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Chapter Text

2 ALW; The GREAT FOX, SOMEWHERE IN THE LYLAT SYSTEM --

Someone had hidden the cork opener.  Peppy wasn’t sure which of the rascals it was but it was certainly someone with a penchant for being a nuisance.  His first guess was Falco. Historically, it was always Falco. Every time he was looking for someone, the absent-minded lad would have stored it in the weirdest place.  Never where he had found it of course-- Peppy assumed that made too much sense for the avian.  

It occurred to him shortly after that Falco didn’t drink.  Well, not regularly , at least.  The avian was known to have a beer every so often but the way he looked at the old hare’s alcohol collection, one would’ve thought he had seen a ghost.  Peppy did not pay too much mind to it. They all had their demons after all… Some took the form of bottles. Some took the form of ashes and dust. Inadequacy.  A mountain of failures that went on and on…

He was rambling in his head, not focusing.  He chided himself silently for that.  

“Bahhh!” Peppy scowled as he rummaged about the drawer.  The pizza cutter was accounted for. All five of their spatulas were there.  The big spoons for cooking were there… But the cork opener? Nope. The one thing he was looking for.

He knew he was way too mad for what the mildly annoying situation called for.  But gosh darn it… Peppy just wanted one thing and as usual, it was right outside his grasp. With one of his tired sighs, the rabbit set the bottle of wine down onto the counter.  He massaged his nose, careful to move around his spectacles so as to not smudge them.  

“I’ll teach these boys someday,” grumbled Peppy as he reached down to where the baking sheets were. 

He opened it up… and there it was.  The cork opener. He wanted to scream out of frustration but he couldn’t.  He had found what he was looking for, after all… even if it was in the most infuriating place. Peppy found the sharper bits of his frustration quickly fade as he popped the cork off of the bottle.  The scent of the red wine drifted upwards towards his nostrils-- a pleasantly bitter smell he knew and loved. It took him back to days long ago, walking Corneria’s vineyards with the woman who would become his wife.  Marveling at the way the sun had made her mint fur glisten. Listening to her laughter like bells on a Sunday morning. The bliss in her eyes had made his heart soar. Distant crashing of waves made everything about then feel like a dream.  Those had been the days… Days that seemed so purel and weightless. Days that… were gone. Days he wished he could claw his way back to.  

Peppy forgoed a typical wine glass, opting for a mug that was twice the size of what he was sure was socially acceptable.  He did not care. The Great Fox had never held anything fancy in its existence. Just their old dinged up cups and mugs… and probably way too many pizza boxes.  

He checked his phone, scrolling over to the texting app.  Lucy had seen his message but hadn’t replied. Figures, he mused darkly to himself.  The girl had never been good at opening up about her feelings. Peppy felt like he could’ve pried all he wanted to.  She would have just smiled at him. She would have just nodded. And he would have hated himself even more when he had come across her sniffling in a room alone.  Everyone dealt with loss in different ways of course. And everyone dealt with the aftermath differently too…

Peppy took a swig of wine, the dark cherry red color staining the fur of his upper lip.  Three years to the day since Vivian had passed. He had told himself he would text Lucy to make sure she was okay.  It was all he could do-- that’s what he told himself, at least. No matter if he ran to Fichina right that second, it would do little to soothe the ache they both felt… he told himself that, at least.  It made him feel better.

He took another drink.

Everyone had always told him that life never went as planned.  There were always things that happened that interfered with what everyone had envisioned for their future.  First, it had been the war. A civil war between two factions of Cornerian citizens and the outcome had been bloody.  Peppy had been to too many funerals. And he had cried too many tears. And then, Vixy. A senseless death that had shaken him to his core.  And then, James. A death that Peppy would never forgive himself for. And not too long after that… Vivian. The wife he had left planetside to go pursue his dreams.   What had those dreams amounted to in the end? James had been the one with the dream to see every star in the sky… And he was dead. And now the Great Fox was falling to ruin. Jobs were getting scarcer and scarcer... Peppy asked himself what he had been looking for when he had left Corneria City that day to join Star Fox.  Had he bought into James’s dreams? Had he seen the light in that fox’s eyes and had fallen for an ideal future that could never be realized?  

Peppy took another drink.

This wasn’t what he wanted.  This was never what he wanted.  

His phone buzzed and he looked down to see Lucy with her honey-sweet words.

“I love you too, Daddy.”  Heart emojis. He told himself she wasn’t mad.  He told himself that today was just an emotional day-- all of these thoughts didn’t mean anything.  That she didn’t resent him for leaving her to care for Vivian in her twilight hours. It made him feel better.  Just like the wine.  

Peppy emptied the mug.  He turned away from the counter to walk, feeling the world sway around him.  His hand snapped to the nearby handle of the fridge. Watery eyes studied the kitchen exit for a few moments.  He tried to take another step but his socks couldn’t latch onto the tile floor. He slid to the ground with a small sob.  A sob that was followed by another. The hare brought his knees up and he hugged himself, leaning his face into his kneecaps.  

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he whispered to the phone.  And then, to the stained metallic ceiling of the Great Fox, he whispered, “I’m sorry, love.”  He hadn’t been there. And what had it amounted to? Sometimes, he really did wonder...

Chapter Text

5 ALW; NORTH OREDO BAY, CERINIA -- 

They walked the rugged Cerinian shore, the sand beneath their feet ebony and vaguely damp from the aftermath of the lethal storm.  The ocean had calmed now, leaving a disquiet that sent a shiver down her spine. It was hard to think that just hours ago, this land had been bathed in darkness-- both from the seas and the skies both.  A tsunami had struck, crashing through a seaside village and obliterating any who had not been fortunate to seek higher ground in time.  

This was not an accident.  This was what happened when the balance of power shifted-- when the elements were not aligned.  This was an unnatural occurrence and she could taste the lingering effects of water magic in the air.  The vixen stepped around part of a small wooden boat that had been splintered by the rocks and gales both.  

“It’s so hard to think that water could do this,” Krystal said, looking over her shoulder to her mentor.  “Water is a bringer of life. And yet… I’ve never seen this level of destruction.”

“Just as water can bring life, it can take it away.  The calm pool and the raging ocean are but two sides of the same coin,” Randorn replied.  “Just as fire can destroy, it can also be the lively warmth that banishes winter’s cold. Nothing is ever simple in this world.”

The vixen stared out at the ocean, watching the stormy gray waters recede and surge forth.  Each wave was topped with white foam. She could see rubble adrift in the water. No doubt there were bodies there too.  The vixen felt nauseated at the thought and averted her gaze from the wreckage. Barely anything still stood of the village.  The only sound in the silence was the gentle roar of the waves yards away.  

“It’s just as the elders said.  There’s someone messing with Cerinia’s elemental balance,” Randorn said after a few long moments.  “Only someone practiced in the magic arts could do this. We had best return to deliver our report.”

“Shouldn’t we search for survivors?” Krystal asked, ears perked with alarm.

The brown wolf looked at her sadly, then turned away. 

“You know it as well as I do.  Search for any thoughts or emotions here, Krystal.  You will find none. There’s no one left.”

9 ALW; EARTHWALKER TEMPLE, SAURIA --

They ran in tandem down the ruined hall of the EarthWalker ziggurat.  Fox outpaced her just a hair, his blaster held in both hands. Crackling over the communications channel let them know that they would lose signal if they kept to their current path.  Krystal tapped a button to reload her connection to the channel but it did nothing to help with the buzz of static. A few steps later and she turned it off. The noise was distracting her far more than it was helping.

“Tricky!” Krystal screamed down the hall, desperately feeling out for the EarthWalker king as she turned the corner.  She couldn’t sense him. She couldn’t sense anyone but Fox’s own festering fears as they ran.

Three aparoid grunts stood in the halls, clicking as they turned to greet them with their sharpened feelers.  Fox was first to open fire and Krystal quickly followed. The aparoids were reduced to scrapmetal after a few seconds and Fox turned to her.  His uncertainty was clearly written across his face but she could sense it. It dug deep into her heart like barbs and hurt. Spirits, did it hurt… She could feel his memories of the EarthWalker threatening to bubble over and overwhelm his mind.  

“Can you sense him?” the vulpine asked between pants.

“No,” Krystal shook her head. 

Memories filled her vision.  She saw Fox fending off blue-scaled SharpClaw in the snow as Tricky hid behind his leg.  She saw Fox freeing him from a cage in a lava-filled mine. She saw Fox hugging him just before he left Sauria.  His anguish was unbearable and she withdrew her telepathy. The vixen rubbed her forehead, feeling the humidity cling to her azure fur.  

“It’s possible they fled before the invasion got here,” Fox said.  Krystal knew he wasn’t just trying to reassure her. 

“We’ve got to keep going.  The main chamber’s walls could be thick enough to block out my telepathy,” Krystal replied. 

Fox nodded and they were off again.  The ziggurat had been carved similarly to the rest of the EarthWalker structures-- layered with nearly identical levels cut in a square-like pattern.  The same sun and moon patterns flashed by as they ran. It felt like they were getting no where until light broke through the ceiling and the two foxes soon found themselves nearing the top of the ziggurat.  

Above, a battle raged on.  Slippy and Falco were fending off the aparoids as best as they could but even at a glance, the vixen could tell they were sorely outnumbered.  If they did not act fast to repel the aparoids, the entire planet could be lost. With her heart racing, Krystal ran for the door into the central chamber.  She grabbed near the bottom of the sun emblem, trying to force it open. It would not budge. Fox ran to help her and together, they were able to force it upright.

Inside was a grim sight.  EarthWalker corpses lay scattered about, their blood staining the white stone floor.  Aparoids were crawling everywhere. Small orblike sacs were clustered in the corners of the grand room.  An aparoid was digging into the flesh of one of the EarthWalkers, clearly trying to merge with the lifeless body.  The vixen felt a gasp fall from her lips. Fox was deadly silent next to her but she could taste his horror like a numbing freeze of ice.

When the nearest aparoid soldier took note of them, Fox leapt into action.  He hurled a grenade inside and opened fire. Krystal found herself following suit-- firing into the room as the aparoids made their charges towards them.  As their lasers blazed through the violet metal that made up their insectoid bodies, the vixen felt a rush of hatred that blinded her. She bared her teeth in a snarl as she fired into the nearest soldier.  

It took her a moment to realize that the searing rage was not just her own.

Fox lunged forward at the soldier, rolling another grenade under the creature’s feet.  It exploded, its body shooting towards the ceiling before crashing back down. He pivoted on his right foot then spun around to blast through the nearest cluster of aparoid larva.  After the last soldier had fallen, Fox continued to fire until the eggs had become nothing but smoldering ash. He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring down at the destroyed aparoids with such intense loathing that the vixen flinched for a moment.   

Krystal ran to the nearest EarthWalker body, putting a hand on his flank and feeling for any sign of life.  There was none. Tears flaking her lashes, she looked at the others-- the ones with the torn throats, the lifeless eyes, the blood that pooled in impossible amounts around them.  There was nothing. It had been a complete bloodbath-- one that had likely happened just moments before. Too late, the vixen cursed quietly. They had been too late.  

“Damn it all,” Fox seethed.  He turned and punched the nearest wall with such ferocity and suddenness that Krystal jumped.  

“Is… is he…?” Krystal managed to ask, looking at Fox as he hung his head.

“No,” Fox said after a moment. “Tricky’s not here.”

She breathed a shuddering sigh of relief, wiping her tears away as discreetly as she could.  Though she had not personally known any of these EarthWalkers, she felt their lingering fear taint the air.  Their regrets twisted her emotions into knots and she tried her best to detach from the situation. But spirits was it hard.  It was so, so hard… She forced herself not to cry. She pleaded with herself to stay alert. They were still in the middle of a battlefield.

“Krystal, we need to go.  There’s no one left,” Fox said to her.  “The others are gonna need our help soon.  The skies will be overrun.”

“Y-yes…” the vixen replied with a nod.

They departed the room with the massacre in silence.  Silence that felt all too familiar in a situation that just felt more and more terrifying.  The vixen stared ahead, that numbness never quite going away even as they departed the ziggurat.  She readied her blaster as soon as the waning sunlight came into view, but her breaths were shaky.

“What is it?” He asked her.

“I just… I’ve never seen you like that before,” Krystal said quietly.

“Like what?” Fox asked with concern.

“So angry,” the vixen answered breathlessly, her words trembling.

“I…” His tipped ears went back for a moment.  “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“It’s fine,” she answered, steeling her words. “Even the most gentle person can get angry sometimes.”

Like water, she realized.  Fox was like water. His tide pulled people in.  His resolve, his current, moved his team forward.  He could be as calm as a serene pool. Or as wrathful as a tidal wave.  

She continued, shaking herself back into focus. “And that… that was awful.  But he could still be out there. We just need to keep trying.”

“We’ll find him,” Fox said confidently.  He gently touched her shoulder for a moment.  Then, they were off once more-- plunging through the humid jungle with the sounds of war all around them.  

Chapter Text

7 ALW; SARGASSO SPACE STATION, METEO BELT 

2am was heralded by the chiming of the clock striking the hour.  Caiman looked up at the digital clock for a moment, his hand enveloped a white rag that was wiping out residual water droplets from a glass that had gone through the wash.  He liked keeping his hands busy. He liked what he did. It was rowdy, but in a good way. It was loud, but the voices were almost always merry. Sure, the ruffians had their occasional bar brawls, but it was nothing Panther, Wolf, and Leon couldn’t break up… or finish, if they felt so inclined.  

“Last call!” hollered the reptile over the sound of chatter.  

There were a few complaints, of course.  There were complaints every night. But with their meager staff, it was hard to keep the bar running all night long.  Wolf only had commanded extended hours for special occasions until they had enough barkeeps to maintain the steady flow of orders.  But no one came to Sargasso to make drinks. They came here to find a place away from the Cornerians-- a place that accepted their unconventional lifestyles… a place that looked the other way when it came to their past.  There were bandits here, sure. And pirates. And murderers. But there were refugees. People that couldn’t go back. People that had no place in Corneria’s high society…

Caiman knew.  He was one of them.  A Venomian that had lived his life in the skeletal remains of what the Cornerians had left behind.  His family had moved into a ruined Cornerian colony when he had been a child. When he had been seven years old, his father had taught him how to shoot a gun.  At ten, he had killed his first person-- a raider that had come to pillage some of their food supplies. Caiman had fired once. Just once. And then the raider had been no more.  He told himself it had been just like target practice. That… made it feel less like claiming a life, something he later came to realize that he did not like doing.

It was this disdain for killing that had led Caiman to become Sargasso’s primary barkeep.  After the Venomians had dispersed with Andross’s defeat, he had found Wolf years later and had hung up his blaster.  There was no need to fight for survival anymore. He was an essential part of the Sargasso culture. He let the alcohol flow and they repaid him twice over in whatever he wanted.

“Do ya really gotta close down?” a nearby armadillo whined.  He was partially leaned over the bar, a glass of whiskey wrapped in his claws.

“ ‘Fraid so.  Lord O’Donnell’s orders,” Caiman replied with a toothy grin. “Unless ya wanna help with cleaning up all the dishes and moppin’.  I already released the rest of my staff. They’re opening tomorrow.”

“Fuck that,” the armadillo sputtered and went back to leaning over the bar with a broody expression.

Last call came and went.  It was not for another hour that the bar started to see its numbers thin.  Caiman busied himself with his closing duties. He cleaned up the glasses and began to wipe down the counter.  Crumbs and droplets were smeared away. He disinfected the lovely woodwork with a small spray bottle and kept up his relaxed yet productive pace.  All the way up until the bar was empty save for the last few patrons.

“Hey there,” came an unfamiliar voice and the Venomian glanced up to see its origin.

Caiman had never met the guy before.  He was a ring-tailed lemur, the black fur of his chin pointed in a small goatee.  His large yellow eyes glittered with a sort of mischievousness that Caiman instinctively did not like.  But he was a kind soul-- as kind as anyone within the rugged halls of Sargasso could be. He didn’t want to turn anyone away, even if it was beyond closing hours.

“What can I do ya for?” Caiman asked the lemur.

“Name’s Rodney.  Rodney Donovan,” the lemur said, helping himself to the nearest bar stool.  The way he moved was energetic and something about his manner of speech reminded Caiman of a merchant.  “I’m new here.”

“Welcome,” Caiman replied.  He gave a small smile. The poor guy was new and probably hadn’t gotten the memo that the bar was closing down.  Nervous, he scrubbed the countertop harder. He tried to figure out how to politely inform him but during his frantic contemplation, he lost his chance.  

“I’m not really a ruffian,” Rodney said and Caiman’s scaley brow furrowed at this.  What did that even mean? The lemur’s mouth pulled up into a smirk. “I’m a historian.”

“A historian?” Caiman asked, looking up from where he was cleaning.  That was… odd to say the least. Historians didn’t typically come to Sargasso.  People that weren’t rough around the edges usually didn’t come to Sargasso. “Weird place for someone like you to be.”

“I guess you could say that,” the lemur said.  He swung his feet back and forth in a manner Caiman thought was rather childish. “You see, I’m working on my magnum opus .  It’s a film.  A film about the Lylat Wars.”

Caiman felt the first flicker of uncertainty in his chest.  Sure, this lemur was odd… but now it was bordering something beyond just odd.  The lizard studied his cunning golden eyes for a moment. 

“Really?” Caiman asked.  “Sounds…” Awful. It sounded awful.  “... interesting.”

“I’m hoping to interview some of the people that were on the front lines.  From both sides. You see, we both know the Cornerians like to tout that the Venomians were evil and all of that.  But I want the truth. I want the nitty gritty details,” Rodney said with a smile that Caiman was certain was supposed to be charming but all he saw was a knowing sneer.  

The lizard turned away to put away the spray bottle, feeling his heart pounding against his chest.  His thoughts were abuzz with memories he would have rather forgotten. He had been part of the Venomian defense in the waning hours of the war.  Andross had wanted them to guard the entrance to his main headquarters. They had been personally assigned after their flight records had been assessed.  Caiman felt a lump in his throat. No matter what they had thought, no matter all of their feats, it had not been enough to stop the inevitable. It had not been enough to stop their fears from becoming reality.

“Who… do you work for?” Caiman asked quietly.  He rose up, still turning his back to Rodney. He looked at the glasses he had already polished, picking one up to polish it all over again-- just to give his shaking hands something to do.

“The Macbethian Institute of History,” the lemur replied. “We’re invested in preserving the actual facts about history-- not the nonsense the Cornerians propagate.  You’ll help, won’t you? Mr. Caiman Tegu?”

“I…” Caiman fumbled. 

Area 6 defense.  Corneria had gotten intel that Area 6 covered the direct route to Andross’s lair.  When the squadron that covered that airspace had drank together that night before, they had all talked about how they were willing to die for the cause.  They were willing to die for a better future, one where they could live without fear and without being under the boot of someone who didn’t care about their wellbeing.  They had toasted Andross’s name. They had cheered and danced together. And when the morning came? They had strapped their gear on. They had manned their ships. And they had fought tooth and nail against the onslaught led by Fox McCloud.

Caiman still heard their screams echoing within his mind.  Screams of his superiors. Of his fellow squadmates. He still remembered all of their names.  He remembered the eardrum-shattering noise his ship had made when it had been blasted to pieces.  He hit the escape pod and prayed to every god in the universe that it worked. It did. It did somehow… even though so many others didn’t.  

“I want to do a segment on the massacre at Area 6,” Rodney continued as though nothing was wrong.  As if talking about all of those lives lost was no big deal. “You’d do an interview, of course. Right?  I mean, you may have lost the war, but this way, you can at least strike back in another way.”

The glass fell from his hand.  The lizard gave a small gasp as he looked at the glistening shards gathered at his feet below.  Some rested on the toe of his shoe. Caiman’s dark eyes traveled to his hand and he touched the top of his snout for a moment.  Each breath came with difficulty. He felt like he was in that escape pod all over again. Its walls had been unbearably close. And with time?  They had just felt like they were closing in on him. Crushing his shoulders as his pod burned through the atmosphere.  

“Um… hello?” Rodney asked.  “Are you listening?”

“Get out.”

The words tore from his mouth, filled with a seething rage that Caiman had thought he had put behind him.  The lizard looked back over his shoulder at the lemur. Tears burned in his eyes. 

“Excuse me?” Rodney asked, taken aback.

“Get out.  We’re closed,” Caiman said angrily.  He grabbed the nearest glass from the shelf and held it up as if to chuck it at the lemur.  No matter how hard he fought back the tears, they came. 

“What?  Don’t you want to help out?  Isn’t… isn’t this important to you?” Rodney asked, seeming to be positively flabbergasted.

“No.  I don’t care about that anymore!” Caiman yelled.  He threw the glass and it missed Rodney by a mile, but the sound of it shattering seemed to spook the lemur.

“W-was it something I said?” Rodney squeaked.

The door slid open behind him and Panther Caroso’s muscled frame took up the bulk of the doorway.  Sharp golden eyes took in the scene at once and the feline pounced upon the lemur without a shred of mercy.  His massive paw slammed the historian into the nearest wall, his fingers wrapped around the squirming Rodney’s neck.  

“W-wait!” Rodney yelped. “I… I…!”

“What’s going on here?” Panther asked, looking directly at Caiman.  His tail twitched back and forth.

“He… he needs to go,” Caiman said to Panther. “Please… please make him go.”

Panther looked back at Rodney, his fangs bared in a scowl.  He dragged the kicking and screaming lemur out of the door, letting it slam shut behind him.  The ensuing silence felt heavy-- too heavy for the lizard to bear. He sank to the ground behind the bar, huddled up.  Glass still sat all around him but he could not find it in himself to care.  

The door slid back open and after a few hurried footsteps, Panther was soon next to the weeping lizard, kneeling down next to him.  The feline put a single hand on the lizard’s shoulder to try to comfort him.  

“He’s gone,” Panther reassured him.

“Did you… kill…?” Caiman whispered.

“I put him in an escape pod and shot him towards Fichina,” Panther replied. 

“Fichina… that’s too far away for…” Caiman sniffled.

“I know,” Panther smiled savagely.  “The Cornerians can pick him up and deal with his shit.  Are you all right?”

“Y-yeah…” Caiman said quietly.  He picked himself up and Panther’s ears went back.  The lizard began towards the broom closet, opening it up and grabbing the broom within.  He had made a mess after all, and it would not have been nice to leave it for the opening crew.

“No.  I will clean it up.  You should return to your quarters and get some rest,” Panther replied, shaking his head.  

“A-are you sure?” Caiman said in surprise.

Panther took the broom from the lizard’s hands and nodded.   “Go. And rest. I will tell Wolf to make sure that lemur stays blacklisted.”

“T-thank you,” Caiman replied gratefully.  

He left the bar quietly as Panther began to sweep the glass up.  As he walked the dull gray metal corridors of Sargasso, he thought to himself about that future Andross had promised them.  Perhaps they had never gotten that golden future, but the sanctuary Star Wolf had created was not bad. There were unsaid rules here.  Rules to look out for each other in a world that was sometimes so cruel that it didn’t make any sense. Rules that did not make sense to anyone beyond their fold.

Caiman hugged himself as he rode the elevator to his apartment, taking in a few deep breaths.  That incident had brought back bad memories… but he knew that he would be okay. He had been okay before and he would be okay again.

Chapter Text

7 ALW; PALACE DE BENNU, FORTUNA-- 

All of her life, she had been told that she was the embodiment of the Goddess.  She would act with poise and grace in every moment of her life. When she came of age, she would wed a man of grand noble birth.  Through him, she would continue her clan’s divine regime over their dominion. As her mother had done. As her grandmother had done.  As every woman in her lineage up until her-- Ava’liah sol Bennu.  

She was of the lineage of phoenixes-- that was what her mother had told her long ago, when she was but a hatchling.  Their supposed immortal blood hadn’t stopped her father from dying when she was barely old enough to remember him. Or her brothers and sisters from perishing from disease.  Or her mother, eventually, from dying of health complications. If life had taught her anything, it was to get all of your emotions and desires out before your loved ones had to put your cold corpse into the ground.  Better to live life with no regrets, right?

Perhaps that was why she had been given “the Firebrand Empress” as a moniker.  

When her mother had passed, Ava’liah had been content with the idea of never marrying.  She had spent a few years in the throne, learning to become savage when she needed to be and learning when to temper her fiery personality when the time called for it.  She had fun being the leader of her kingdom, which sat in an area of Fortuna untainted by Cornerian control. If she could have done so, she would have frozen time-- lavishing in her palace, plucking cherries from bowls held by her attendants, and ordering about her guards to squash any invaders that dared defy their divine borders.

Perhaps that was why when Andrew Oikonny had come to her seeking an alliance to combat the encroaching Cornerian threat, she had been… taken off guard.  She had wanted to maintain the status quo. But Andrew changed everything.

Ava’liah was of course a creature of extremes.  Despite this, not one of her attendants had thought she would have proposed a union of marriage to Andrew.  It took her council by surprise. They had hoped Andrew would have said no.

But when he said yes?  The Fortunan courts went berserk.  They told her she could not marry an outsider.  She told her that her lineage had to stay pure .  They told her so many things… and she had the loud enough dissenters locked into the jail until they sang her tune. 

That sunny day, her attendants had dressed her in red silken robes.  A headdress of gold and thick red plumage adorned her head. A golden necklace and bangles adorned her body.  Her sandals were threaded up to her knees. She walked with the grace her mother had taught her. Her sapphire eyes burned with her father’s warrior spirit.  The accents of red in her snowy white plumage matched the tone of her outfit and she was living for it. Let the naysayers speak up in the presence of a goddess.

Andrew waited for her at the bottom of the stairs.  He was in a nice light blue jacket with a white dress shirt underneath-- a modest but nice enough display of Cornerian fashion.  She knew the people that hated her decision would riot at this but she did not care-- there was more room in the prison for them to sit and think about what they had done.  He looked up at her and Goddess preserve, the way his golden eyes shone just about melted her heart. The simian gaped at her for a moment, as if seeing her for the first time in his life.  She cherished the way his fangs poked out when he looked surprised.

Her left hand glided over the rail as she descended the stairs, her dress trailing after her.  She smiled-- she knew she looked good and she knew he was positively stunned.  

“I… uh… hm,” Andrew awkwardly fumbled and Ava’liah gave a small laugh.  He was delightful when he did not know what to say.

“I know.  I look beautiful,” Ava teased him.  

Andrew scratched the back of his neck, clearly flustered.  The pink of his face seemed positively aglow in embarrassment.  She laughed again, wrapping her arm around his. They began down the hall, stepping from the shelter of the palace interior.  There was a delightful blue-glass ceiling that hung over an outdoor corridor. The stone path was lined with pillars, each one decorated with vines and an array of flowers.

After a few steps down the path, Ava guided Andrew from the shade of the stone and glass canopy.  They stepped, together, into the light of the sun. She marveled for a few moments at the way her fiance’s amber eyes seemed to shine in the light.  He caught her look and smiled-- bashful once more. She wondered if he would ever grow out of that.

The morning air felt like a dream.  She always found the gardens to be breathtaking, despite spending all of her years within the palace walls.  Clusters of trees and flowers made up the heart of the palace. A grand statue of the Monarch Dodora sat in the midst of it all, presiding over a crystalline fountain with gemstones littering its bottom.  The light of the sun reflected off of their surfaces, giving a rainbow hue to the pool’s depths.  

“This base of yours that is under construction to the north,” Ava said to him as they walked the gardens. “You have not had any issues with the local fauna, have you?”

“Not particularly,” Andrew said.  He seemed more at ease when talking about business and so she would indulge him.  “I’m just hoping we’re able to establish everything before the Cornerians figure out what we’re doing.”

“Venom and Fortuna rising together.  My council thinks this is insanity incarnate.  But they forget the horrors the Cornerians have wrought upon our land,” Ava said.

She broke away from him for a moment.  Each of her steps was light as a feather, like a swaying, gorgeous dance.  She wandered over to a nearby tree, cradling one of the violet blossoms in her palm.  When Ava plucked it, she did so with precision and presented it to her husband-to-be with a smile.  The simian looked taken aback and she tucked it behind one of his pointed ears.

“My mother was a strong advocate against the Cornerians, you know.  She did everything in her power to make sure our people stayed free.  Not so different from your uncle, in that regard,” Ava’liah said to Andrew.  

“She… sounds like she was a great person,” Andrew replied.  He gingerly touched the flower tucked behind his ear, making sure it was secure.  “What made you want to accept my alliance offer? I know when my uncle came here… he… he didn’t exactly ask permission to build a base before…”

“Worried that we Fortunans still hold a grudge over that?” Ava asked, raising her brow. “While it’s true that Venom coming to Fortuna did result in our planet becoming a battlefield… that wasn’t your choice.” 

Overhead, a few patrol cruisers flashed by.  Ava glanced up at them. Ever since those dark days, her clan had made sure to keep their borders and cities well-guarded.  One never knew when war would come knocking on their doorstep once more. And the show of power certainly did not hurt in the slightest.  

“These are tumultuous times we live in.  We cannot afford to cling to every grudge or we’ll be left in a world surrounded by enemies,” Ava continued, returning to him. “I chose to ally with Venom because I can see no good future in Corneria doing whatever it pleases.  I wish for Fortuna to be left well enough alone but that… can never happen in this world. So I chose to embrace the future.”

Without realizing it, she had drawn close to him.  Her arms wrapped around him and Andrew reciprocated the motion, pulling her closer.  She smiled-- he was getting better at this, less awkward than the day she had proposed to him.  They hugged each other. She felt his warmth, her fingers trailing through the thick white fur of his nape.  He pressed his cheek into her forehead.

“And I got you in the process, didn’t I?” she whispered.  “So it cannot have been that bad of a decision.”

“Your council doesn’t seem to agree,” Andrew replied.

“They can bugger off,” Ava smiled and the two shared a small laugh.

“Do you think… we can win?” Andrew asked quietly when their laughter had subsided.  “No one has won against the Cornerians…”

“I don’t think we can win,” Ava replied.  “I know we can.  And when we do, Fortuna and Venom will be free.  And we can spend all of our days here. I can have the servants feed us cherries as we watch those TV shows you love so much.”

“A-anime?” Andrew asked, eyes widening.  He chuckled. “You know, not many people would think that’s very Emperor-like…”

“Oh, who cares,” Ava waved his concern off.  “I am only sad I had not seen some of those shows sooner.  I must admit… I am a bit eager to see the next episode of Birdboy Bebop.”

“You… like that one, huh?” Andrew smiled. “I used to have a poster of the main character in my room when I worked on the Star Wolf team.”

“Oh really?” Ava laughed. “You don’t talk about your Star Wolf days much.  I’d like to hear more. Perhaps with some tea?”  

“Sure,” Andrew said, a distant but warm look in his amber eyes.  There was a flicker of a smile on his lips. “I guess I have a few good stories from those days."

Chapter Text

11 ALW; THORNBITE OUTPOST, KEW -- 

She was a diamond in the rough and she knew it.  This world Krystal had found herself in was barbaric and nightmarish.  She stood out from the others and the vixen could not exactly say if it was in a good or bad way.  When she walked Thornbite Outpost, she could tell that there were eyes following her. Was it her azure fur? Was it the way she carried herself?  Was it her Star Wolf uniform, perhaps? Did they know who she was? … Did they know her secret?

Kew was a lawless land.  Perhaps that was why Star Wolf visited it so often for supplies and for work.  Its forests, filled with briars and flora the size of grown men, were hostile and maze-like that it was no wonder bodies were found every so often.  Usually they died of starvation. There was no real Cornerian rule here-- not anymore, at least. Kew’s close enough proximity to Venom had made it a haven for Lylat Wars refugees-- the refugees that hadn’t gone with Andrew and his rebellion or Wolf and his promise of a sanctuary for the downtrodden outcasts of society.  They lived in small colonies and they fought over their land. Anarchy wasn’t quite the correct word to describe it. But it felt close enough to it.  

Krystal walked through the outpost’s gates, not really caring to look back over her shoulder at the ramshackle town some of the Venomians had built.  Panther had gone to bed after drinking a few too many beers. Wolf was catching up with some outlaw buddies of his. Leon was spirits-know-where but she bet he was doing something productive.  

The forests didn’t scare her-- it never had.  There was an allure about it that drew her in that particular night.  A glittering blue fog had rolled in around the outpost, sweeping about the base of the tree trunks like a floating river.  Glowing mushrooms ate at the sides of trees, making the pitch black of night seem a little less scary. There was something mystical about this place that reminded her of home-- of Cerinia.  Maybe that was what compelled her to go exploring in the dead of night.

She walked until the outpost behind her was obscured by the darkness of night and the thin trees both.  The isolation made her breathe easy. She let her shoulders relax. Krystal felt like she had to keep up appearances with the others-- maybe it was because she had been told by Peppy to spy on Star Wolf.  She had been playing the role for awhile now… so long that it sometimes felt a little too natural but not long enough to forget what this all was-- a big sham.  A big sham that she… felt guilty about. Felt stifled by, at times. Sometimes, she wished she could just leave her communicator with Peppy turned off forever.  Sometimes, she wished she didn’t have to report in.  

Sometimes?  She wished the sham was real.  And sometimes? She realized she could make it real if she wanted to.  

“And where do you think you’re going?” a voice came from behind.  “Not running away to report our whereabouts to the Cornerians, are you?”

The vixen turned around.  It was very rare for anyone to sneak up on her.  She realized his thoughts had been quiet if he had been able to come this close to her without her detecting him.  For a moment, Krystal admired his ability to keep his emotions under such tight control. But then she recognized the danger in that.  And the implications of his words.

“Still don’t trust me?” the vixen asked with a raised brow.  She told herself to play it off. Leon was the most paranoid out of the group so this sort of interaction was within his nature.  “I’ve been on the team for a month. If I was going to betray you, wouldn’t I have already done it?”

“That remains to be seen,” Leon answered. “But typically innocent people don’t go wandering off in the night.”

“I’m not running,” Krystal pointed out.  “I just wanted to go for a walk is all.”

Leon did not look convinced.  He folded his arms over his thin chest.  She took note of the dagger strapped to his forearm, concealed underneath the sleeve of his uniform jacket.  Had he come here armed in case they ran into trouble? Or was there a more sinister motive?

“This planet reminds me of Cerinia,” Krystal said to him, taking her gaze off of him for a moment.  “There’s an ancient wonder here. I’ve… missed it.”

The reptile’s expression softened ever so slightly.  He glanced up at the glow of mushrooms decorating the trees.  Their glow was so bright that even in the night, Krystal did not feel like she needed a torch or to even draw her staff to provide more light.  

“Panther does not talk often about Cerinia.  I imagine there are still… wounds,” Leon said after a pause in their conversation.  “But from what he told me, it was truly a beautiful place. A pity what became of it.”

“I wish I could go back sometimes,” Krystal said. “Do you feel the same about Venom?  I… know it’s still there, but… surely you must miss it too?”

“I do and I do not,” Leon replied.  “Life in poverty is not glamorous. I do care for my family, though.  Even if perhaps they are upset that I chose to leave Venom for good.”

She could sense emotions rising up past that callous barrier he had created.  There were bits of regret. Bits, perhaps, that the lizard did not want to admit.  His steadfast loyalty to Wolf may have granted him wings out of a rough lifestyle… but perhaps it had taken away more than Leon wanted to say.  Krystal doubted, though, that he would have done things differently. She knew him better than that.

“Panther… really likes you,” Leon stated, carnelian eyes narrowed to slits. “I only followed you to make sure you were not doing something that would hurt him.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Krystal said, the lie flowing through her like water.  Fluid. Seamless. She had gotten so used to lying that it felt as natural as breathing. She was not sure that was a good thing.  “Panther… he came into my life at an odd time. But I’m grateful to him. He really helped me out.”

When she spoke of Panther, it made her feel guilty.  She never lied when she spoke about him. Every soft moment they shared, she knew those moments were real… even if her reasoning for being on the team was fabricated.

“I understand that your departure from Star Fox was not… a mutual agreement,” Leon replied.  “At first, I thought you joining the team was odd to put it mildly. Did Fox not indoctrinate you into thinking we were heartless ruffians without a shred of loyalty between us?”

The vixen felt her heart sink, remembering her last conversation with Fox.  It had been a gradual build, like a tea kettle threatening to boil over. The vulpine’s personality had shifted after the aparoid invasion.  Their arguments had gotten more frequent. Krystal’s longing to find more of her people had gotten stronger. Fox had wanted her to focus on the missions.  She couldn’t, though. She couldn’t focus. And his temper had begun to flare up to new heights.

“If Wolf had kicked you from the team… what would you have done?” Krystal asked Leon and she saw surprise cross his features.  “Sometimes, you think you’re a good person. And then you realize that you’re angry. And sometimes, being angry… makes you realize that you were perhaps not as good of a person as you thought you were.  At first, I joined this team because of Panther but I will admit. I wanted to hurt Fox. I wanted him to feel the loneliness, the shock that I had felt when he had dismissed me.”

“If he had done that… I am not sure what I would have done,” Leon admitted quietly. “Star Wolf has been my life for so long now.  Perhaps I understand your plight a little better now.”

“I appreciate that you came to check on me for Panther’s sake,” Krystal said with a small smile. “I won’t lie.  I do love him. I want him to be happy. He deserves that much.” She paused, then added. “Walk with me?”

Leon looked apprehensive but nodded.  The two began to walk in the dark forest, keeping a moderate pace.  The lizard looked to her, studying her face carefully. Their conversation turned to silence as they wandered, curving around the outskirts of the outpost and keeping to the trees.  Small glowing wisp-like spores fell from the treetops and Krystal caught one in her palm and held it up for Leon to see. The lizard observed it carefully before giving it a nod of approval.  Krystal let the spore fly away.

They continued for some time, the quiet interrupted by occasional chatter.  She could tell he was analyzing her even without using her powers. The more they walked and talked, the more she could feel him relax.  Krystal supposed she ought to have been happy. But her heart panged with guilt one more time and she tried to distract herself by just keeping her eyes forward.

When the outpost gates came into view once more, Leon stopped.  He turned and looked at her carefully. His scrutinizing gaze made her feel mildly uncomfortable.  The vixen carefully distracted herself by adjusting some of the fringe of her bangs. 

“What you said earlier was wrong,” Leon stated with such brutal honesty that Krystal flitted her ears back in surprise. “Being angry… is normal.  It doesn’t make you evil.”

“I…” the vixen began. “I suppose there’s truth to that.”

“Remember that,” Leon replied and walked towards the gates.  

Krystal stared after him, wondering if somehow he had been able to read her thoughts.  After a minute of careful consideration, she concluded he had not. Yet there was something about him that made her feel as though she could see through him.  Maybe it was the way he looked at her. Maybe it was his precise choice of words when he spoke to her. Regardless, it… unnerved her. And somehow? It was relieving.  It felt like she had gone her whole life wearing mask after mask. Sometimes, having someone seeing you for what you were was comforting.  

It certainly made her feel less crazy, at least.

And perhaps it was the final straw.  The final instance that made her realize she needed this.  A new start. A new team. She needed to turn off her communications with Peppy.  She needed that breath of fresh air.  

“Are you coming?” Leon asked.

“Yes.  Yes, I’m coming,” Krystal replied and hurried inside after him.

Chapter Text

0 ALW -- SOMEWHERE IN THE DESERT, TITANIA --

Everyone had a dream.  Everyone but Slippy Toad.

When Slippy had been in the first grade, he had been given the task of presenting to the rest of the class what he wanted to be when he grew up.  A lot of the other kids wanted to be doctors, firefighters, or policemen. Lucy wanted to be a fighter pilot like her father. Bill wanted to be a space explorer.  But Slippy? Slippy didn’t know. He had never really known where his path would lead. So he had presented that he was not sure what he wanted to be in front of his class.  And his teacher had given him a big fat “F” over it. Even much later, Slippy would never understand why it was not okay to not have a plan at such a young age… but he tried to not let it discourage him.  Much, at least.

When he turned ten years old, it became obvious he was proficient with computers, robotics, mechanic work, and had a pretty good grasp on engineering -- even more so than his other siblings.  Beltino took Slippy to his office as much as he could, marveling at the lad’s childish wonder as he looked over blueprints for the upcoming Space Dynamics projects. 

And then Fox came into Slippy’s life.  They were fast friends, of course. Fox and his father had recently moved from Papetoon to Corneria because of better job prospects.  And Beltino already knew James. Same with Peppy.  

Fox, Lucy, Bill, and Slippy were an inseparable group.  But as they grew older, Slippy began to realize that each of them was walking down their own path.  He supposed such a thing was natural. People had their callings… sometimes those callings took them into different directions.  Lucy had a knack for astrophysics. Bill’s parents had basically forced him down the path to being in the military. Fox was going to be an ace cadet for the Cornerian Defense Force… and then he was going to be the next James McCloud of the Star Fox team.

Slippy interned at Space Dynamics for a summer-- the summer before the Lylat Wars broke out.  His knack for building things made him think maybe he’d find clarity there. But all he found were people telling him what to build and how to build it.  The lack of innovation stifled his enjoyment. So he stayed in the military academy, something he had just kind of done because everyone else had done it.  

And after the death of James McCloud, when Fox had told Slippy of his dream to see through what his father had begun, Slippy began to wonder what his own wants and desires were.  Did he really want to join a mercenary group? Did he want to drop out of the academy all together and join his father at Space Dynamics? Or did he want to do something else? Something… that he just hadn’t figured out yet?

Fast forward a few years and Slippy didn’t feel any closer to his answers.  What he did feel closer to was death’s doorstep.

He opened his eyes and the blinding light of Lylat filled his vision.  How a single star could be so bright he was sure was in a textbook or an encyclopedia.  He was sure he knew the answer, but his head hurt too much for thinking.  

“Ugh,” he groaned, rubbing his head.  He looked down, surprised to find blood.  What had happened? He tried to remember…. But everything felt so hazy.

Slippy began to get his bearings.  He was in his Arwing’s cockpit. Outside of him, he saw nothing but the yellow of desert sands.  They gathered together in dunes that felt as tall as mountains, slowly moved by wind. There was something partially obscuring his view from his front windshield but he could not figure out what it was.  It seemed like a branch? But what was a tree doing out here in the desert?  

“Oh yeah.  Spyborg,” Slippy said after a moment, blinking away some of the haze.  He leaned forward, accidentally pressing forward on the Arwing’s controls.  Thankfully the engines were dead-- the Arwing stayed in place.  

The thing his ship had crashed into seemed… organic.  And that did not inspire confidence. The toad narrowed his eyes for a moment.  Whatever it was had a solid grasp on his ship’s nose… but luckily, it seemed within range of his blasters.  He tried to turn on the engine. It sputtered. A small diagnostics report told him that both of his wings were lost and there was damage to the hull’s integrity.  A fall from Sector X would do that, though, and Slippy tried the engine again before swapping to the emergency engine. He aimed for the protruding branch that had clamped over his Arwing’s nose… and he fired.

Everything moved and in a way he did not like.  He screamed a high-pitched note, grabbing back onto the controls as if gripping them tightly would somehow save his life.  The moving eventually stopped and the toad breathlessly looked at the branch. There were some searing marks on it… but it didn’t seem like wood.  He gulped, finger over the button to fire.  

When he fired again, the moving came but more aggressive.  It confirmed his suspicions and he screamed again. This wasn’t a random desert tree.  This was a claw. A claw that belonged to a monster.  

“Oh no!  Oh no, oh no, oh no!” Slippy yelped, thrusting forward on the Arwing controls and trying to kick forth the accelerate.  It sputtered… and then died out. Panicked, he looked around. There was something shifting underneath his ship-- he could feel it.  

The thrashing flung him forward and his head hit the dashboard.  He gasped, blinding tears of pain in his eyes. Was this how he would meet his end?  Strapped down in his chair, his body probably soon lost to the desert sands? Would anyone know where to even look for him?  Would he die before he even figured out what he wanted to do with himself? Would he die before he realized what his own dreams even were?

Dreams.  That word again.  Everyone had their dreams.  Slippy felt like he had gone his whole life looking for his own.  But they were never there. When he closed his eyes? He saw his team.  He saw Fox, smiling that dashing smile. He saw Falco, leaning cockily against the doorframe with his arms folded-- a cheeky smirk on his beak.  He saw Peppy with his kind old eyes that had known too much heartache…

He saw Lucy.  She was already done with her Master’s degree and was working on a Ph.D in astrophysics now.  She had already built the prototype for her own ship. He saw Bill-- strong and calm Bill, who was getting awarded a medal of honor for his service.  They all were pursuing their interests… why did it feel like his whole life was chasing after Fox’s?

“AHHHHH!” he screamed, clinging onto the arm rests of his chair.

His entire life flashed by his eyes.  A life that was full of… laughter. Of joy.  Of friends. Slippy stopped screaming. Huh. He had never really thought about it that way.  Sure. It did seem like everyone was moving in their own direction. And sure, it seemed like sometimes he was just chasing after them.  But maybe? Maybe they were his dream. His friends. Those good times.  

When the war had come, he had been terrified.  There had not been a full-scale war in decades.  He was scared of how this would change everyone. Maybe he had the right to be scared.  James’s death changed Fox. Falco came into the group. They were waging war in their own way against the Venomians.  A war that didn’t need the General’s permission. Fox had always told them, when the time was right, they would strike Andross.  And so as the war waged, they… they lived. They took their missions where they could.  

He gasped softly, realization dawning on him.

Maybe his dream had been in front of him all this time.  All those laughs and good times. Hugging each other. Crying with each other.  Fighting alongside each other. Maybe he didn’t need to have something decided on.  Maybe he just needed his friends. Maybe his dream was a simple night with pizza, video games, and the people he cared about the most...

“Oh the heck with it!” Slippy yelled, grabbing a hold of the aiming interface.  He pointed the Arwing’s left gun at the claw that had a hold of his ship. “STOP THAT RIGHT NOOOOOOW!”

He charged up a shot and fired.  The limb flailed for a moment then stopped.  Everything stopped. Slippy paused. Had that… worked?  Outside, the Titanian desert was as still as death. The toad’s hands were wrapped around the control stick of his Arwing-- fingers locked in place out of sheer fear.  He realized for a moment that he was holding his breath. Slippy let himself exhale, letting his shoulders sag as he did so. Was it safe?  

Three dots on the horizon caught his attention.  Leaning forward in his seat, he squinted to try to get a better look at what was coming towards him.  Gleefully, he realized it was two Arwings and the Landmaster-- his friends! The toad let out a cheer.  Saved! He was saved!  

As he rocked back into his seat, he bumped into his controls.  The engines suddenly revved but the ship didn’t move. The Arwing fired off a blast into the sand.  Slippy paused, fearfully looking out the windshield. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no...

The Arwing began to move but not of its own will.  The creature that had his ship in its grasp churned in the sands below.  The Arwing jolted forward and then flung backwards-- like a radical rocking horse with poor Slippy trapped inside.  He gave a yelp, grabbing onto the controls. Not again!  

“Slippy!” Fox’s voice broke over the intercom suddenly.

“AHHHHH DO SOMETHING!” Slippy screamed over the intercom. “HEEEEELP!”

“Hang on, Slip!  We’ll get you out of there!” Fox yelled.

When the monster had been felled and Slippy freed from its claws, the team reconvened at the Great Fox.  Slippy ran up to Fox immediately, throwing his arms around his friend in the biggest hug he had ever given.  Fox laughed, hugging him back.  

“I was scared,” Fox admitted, tears glistening over his eyes. “But I’m glad you’re safe, pal.”

“I’m glad you were able to find me!” Slippy said with a smile. “I thought I was a goner for sure.”

“We wouldn’t dream of lettin’ that happen,” Fox replied and the two wandered off to get a well-deserved dinner.

Chapter Text

9 ALW; GALACTIC CORNERIAN BANK SATELLITE STATION M5, NEAR ZONESS --

The first punch landed on Panther’s chin and he could taste his own blood immediately.  Spitting thick droplets out, the feline looked up at the two thugs that had bound him to the chair.  A defiant smile crossed his bloody muzzle, his rounded ears back against his head. Though the ropes they had used to tie his hands behind his back cut through his ebony fur and nipped at his skin, he maintained his calm confident demeanor.  He hated the feeling of being bound like this-- it brought back too many bad memories.  

The two interrogators were brutish security guards hired by the Galactic Cornerian Bank.  They were donned in their blue and black uniforms. At their hips were small blasters and rods that unfurled into proper bats-- used for beating thieves senseless.  Thieves like Panther Caroso.  

“I got someone from the CDF on their way right now to arrest you,” the first interrogator, a spotted dog, sneered down at Panther.  

“And before you think we’re dumb and think you’re just a petty thief… think again!” the other guard, a floppy-eared red setter, declared.  “We know exactly who you are, Panther Caroso… er… or is it Caruso…. Anyways… we know who you are! And most importantly…”

The setter pulled a small metallic device from his pocket.  He set it on the table in front of Panther and it projected a small hologram of his own mugshot along with his criminal record.  The feline could not suppress a truly delighted smirk.  

“We know you’re with Star Wolf and he probably doesn’t wanna leave any loose ends to muck up his plans,” the setter said haughtily. 

“What were you doing raiding this station?  What were you looking for?” the spotted dog asked Panther, already balling up another fist.  

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Panther remarked and braced himself for the hit that came a few quick moments later. This one landed nearly where the first did and that made it sting a little bit more.

“Does it matter what they were looking for?” the setter asked his companion warily. “We got Panther Caroso right here! Star Wolf is gonna come back for him and when they do, we can nab ‘em too!  And then we’ll be off this hunk of scrap metal. We won’t have to work for this crappy bank anymore.”

“I mean, I guess you’re right,” the spotted dog shrugged then ungracefully scratched his rump. “I just like punching people.”

The wail of an alarm alerted both dogs and they turned to look at the door behind them.  Red emergency lights were flashing in the outside corridor. At once, they drew their blasters and began towards the door.  

“Stay there, cat.  You’re gonna be our ticket outta here,” the setter said over his shoulder as they departed the room.  

Panther waited a moment before he wriggled his arms out from around the back of the chair.  He was bound by his wrists but he could tell they had done a poor job of it. They were not standard military-- they were just poor sods that had been hired to beat up people that had tried to steal from the bank.  He almost felt sorry for them. They had no idea what they were about to walk into.

He lifted his arms, his double-jointed shoulders and elbows twisting around.  He moved his arms up and over his head, bringing them down into his lap. Wolf had selected him for this mission specifically because of him being double-jointed.  It trivialized his part in the mission and would make escape that much easier.

“Amateurs,” rumbled the feline with a pleased laugh as he looked down at his bound hands.

With a fang, he picked apart the clumsy knot they had tied him with and quickly freed himself of his bonds.  Why they had elected to tie him with rope instead of cuff him properly, he did not understand-- they seemed like they shared a single collective braincell, so maybe that was it.  Not that it would have mattered much… Panther was certain he would have been able to fulfill his part of the mission cuffed or not.  

He tapped the communication device on his left forearm and Wolf’s disgruntled image appeared a second later.

“Hello, Boss,” Panther said with a cheeky grin, his face still bloodstained.

“You’ve looked better,” Wolf commented. “What’s your status?”

“I’m in,” Panther replied with the roll of his shoulders.  “Two security guards went to investigate the alarm. They left me alone in here.”

“Clearly they’re the cream of the crop,” Wolf retorted. “Leon will take care of them.  I’m sending the blueprints through the comm channel. I’ll help guide you if you get lost.  Remember-- don’t get spotted near the room or they’ll suspect it’s been tampered with. And we don’t want that.”

“Right, right,” Panther replied.  He walked towards a nearby countertop, where they had placed his blaster and a few other pieces of gear-- a few barrier shields and some small-radius flash grenades.  “By the way, they want you to come. They say they’re going to catch you and turn you into the CDF so they can get rewarded.”

“Is that right?” Wolf asked with a quirked brow.  “Well, I suppose everyone has their dreams. When you’re done, go down the left hall.  Leon should have made a large enough distraction to clear the guards out.”

Panther departed the room with his blaster in hand.  He switched it to stun mode. This mission was not about leaving a trail of bodies behind-- it was about stealth.  And though Leon was the master in that department, Panther knew he was adequate enough for the mission. 

The red flashing lights overhead cast an eerie ambiance and the screaming of the sirens all around made his fur rise.  He moved at a slow jog, keeping the blueprints pulled up on his communications device. Wolf had been kind enough to pinpoint the computer room, signifying its location with a red dot.  As the feline moved, he slightly turned the blueprints so that he could see the station from a side glance. It looked like the computer room was a floor above the one he was on. 

“Elevator comin’ up to your left,” Wolf said, as if reading his mind.

Panther hit the button on the elevator, blaster still in hand.  He pressed himself into the outcrop near the elevator doors as to try to conceal himself from anyone coming down the hall.  Between the pulsing wails of the sirens, there was mostly silence. He could hear occasionally the sound of footsteps but they seemed to be retreating from him.  

The beep of the elevator doors startled him.  He pointed his blaster at the metal doors as they opened, relieved to see no one inside.  Panther stepped in and punched the correct button. The doors closed and he was left with his thoughts for a few moments.  

Usually hitting banks was a little too high profile for Star Wolf.  Despite the team being notorious in the Lylat Wars, they had largely begun to keep to themselves.  Certain zones in Meteo had become safe havens for pirates. The asteroids made it difficult for the Cornerians to navigate-- they would have rather just picked off what ruffians they found rather than dive deep into the thick of the meteor fields.  

But the Galactic Cornerian Bank was said to be moving a massive amount of funds from Corneria to Zoness sometime within the next few weeks.  Usually, Wolf hungered for something a bit less materialistic. But even space pirates needed money every now and then. Money to keep the booze flowing back home.  Money to keep getting fuel cells for their ships. Money to get food. Panther understood the necessity of their mission. He understood what it meant to fail.  

“The guards told me they had someone from the CDF on their way,” Panther said to Wolf. 

“I’m sitting outside the station.  Whoever they send won’t make it there,” Wolf replied.

“I thought we weren’t leaving a trail of bodies?” Panther asked coyly.

“Eh.  One won’t raise too much alarm.  Besides, they’ll just think we’re here to get you.  They won’t know what you’ve done. Not until it’s too late,” Wolf answered.

“Heartless,” Panther smirked.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened.  Panther stood with his blaster at the ready, pausing for a moment to make sure no one was trying to get the jump on him.  He proceeded out the doors after a small pause. These halls were quieter than the ones below. He could still hear the sirens blaring but they were muffled here.  Thankfully, there were no guards or personnel on this floor-- or at least what he could see. He glanced at the dot on his map and moved towards it.  

A blank door at the far end of the hall lay the computer room.  He opened the door, glancing at the security camera nearby. Those would be trivialized in a moment.  Panther walked to the large computer screen sitting at the far end of the room and sat down in front of it.  The chair he sat in was one with wheels so he rolled over to where the computer tower was. He popped open the top panel and fished a tiny device out.  It was a metallic rectangle with two wires attached to either side.

Panther glanced at the device then looked down at the mess of cables and wires inside.

“I was never good at this sort of thing,” Panther admitted as he began to delicately place the device within the computer.

“A good time for you to expand your horizons, Panther,” Wolf said snidely.

“You know, this would be much simpler if you were here to do this,” the feline said with his ears back.  He had plugged in half of the device’s wires already. “My paws are too big for this kind of intricate work.”

“I can’t do everything on this team,” Wolf remarked back.

“Next time, you can have your face pummelled in and I will sit comfy in my Wolfen,” Panther smirked and finished the job.  He slid the panel back on top of the tower then stood up. “It’s done. Our CDF friend?” 

“Nothing yet.  Must be taking their time to get here.  Typical Cornerians,” Wolf said.

“And Leon?”

“He’s on Level 1.  Causing some chaos.”

“I’ll join him then.”

Down the elevator and to level 1, Panther found himself immediately greeted with darkness.  The artificial lights had been knocked out. The occasional emergency light had kicked in, illuminating the hallways eerily.  The sirens kept their obnoxious screams. Panther walked carefully in the shadows, knowing that his fur did much to help him blend in.  He walked with his blaster in hand.  

Even with the ghastly silent between the siren’s wails, he did not hear anyone coming.  He did not even know someone was behind him until he was suddenly on the ground. His blaster fell from his paw.  Panther hit the ground face first, bracing himself with his forearms. 

“Ugh,” the feline groaned.

“Oh, what’s this?” a voice sneered from behind.

“Ugh…” Panther rolled over, coming face-to-face with the red setter from before. 

“And where do ya think you’re going?” the setter sneered.  “Don’t you know you’re my ticket outta here?”

He raised his blaster to bash over Panther’s head.  Panther reached for his own gun but it was just a little too far away.  The setter began to swing down but his eyes suddenly bulged out in fear.  He crumpled to the ground moments later, his gun clanging to the floor. Leon stood behind him, holding his rifle up over his head with his two thin arms.  He lowered it and quickly moved to Panther’s side, offering a hand. Panther clasped it and Leon helped him to his feet.

“My hero,” Panther smiled at Leon sweetly and the lizard rolled his eyes.

“Please don’t,” the Venomian scowled.

“What’s going on?” Wolf’s voice alerted them both.  

Leon tapped into his communication device, then said, “I’ve rendezvoused with Panther.  We’re on our way out now.”

“Hurry up.  I think the CDF sent more than one bogey and I don’t wanna deal with it,” Wolf commanded.

“Roger that,” Leon replied and the two slipped their way down the dark hall towards the hangar.

Chapter Text

3 ALW; KATINA CITY, KATINA

When he had gotten the call that his father had been picked up by the cops on Katina, Falco had been content to just let them do away with the old codger.  Throw his tail into the darkest, dankest jail cell.  Falco didn’t care—he’d written his old man off years ago, when he had run out on his own family.  Falco had been young then… but old enough to know that his father wasn’t a nice man and old enough to be happy to be spared another night of drunken tirades.

Peppy had convinced him to at least fly by to see his old man after all of the long years.  Falco had adamantly said no.  It was the temptation of some form of closure, however, that had gotten the avian to change his mind.  With the hare in tow, he departed for Katina City – knowing that if this was for better or worse, it was likely for worse.

When Falco and Peppy arrived at the police station, Falco immediately felt his heart rate surge.  He shoved his hands into his pockets to make it less obvious that he was twitchy.  Peppy had trailed along after him during their walk but upon seeing the avian’s aversion to talking to the lady at the counter inside, the hare took it upon himself to sidle up front.  Falco watched him do it, quietly thankful. 

“We’re here to see Antonio Lombardi,” Peppy said to the lady, a gum-chewing poodle with bows in her hair.

“One visitor at a time,” the poodle said then tapped a button on the counter.  She leaned in towards a small mic that had been fastened to the desk. “Guard to front.  Got someone here for the drunk bird.”

“Thank you,” Peppy said with a polite smile then looked to Falco.

Peppy clasped a hand to the side of the avian’s upper arm, patting him reassuringly.  But there was a hardness about the hare’s eyes.  Falco knew there were words that were likely dancing on the tip of Peppy’s tongue.  But he didn’t say them.  Falco nodded.  Sometimes, there were quiet understandings between the two.

The guard came and took Falco into the back.  Being a delinquent before, jails naturally felt unnerving to him.  He was not used to being on this side of the visitations. 

The room that the guard took him into was divided by a large wall.  A glass window sat in the middle of the wall.  A chair sat in front of a counter jutting out from the wall, just beneath the window.  There was a phone.  Falco sat himself into the chair and looked up as soon as the door on the other side of the window opened.

Antonio Lombardi had changed in all the worst ways and Falco had not known such a thing was possible.  His father’s dark navy plumage looked ratty, each feather broken up and messy.  His green eyes were bloodshot, his sclera yellowed.  His thin body was somehow even thinner.  His hooked beak had a small chip in it, as though he had been punched hard in the mouth.  Antonio looked up, surprise crossing his face.  Falco knew the old drunk had not expected to see him of all people.

The clumsy bird plopped down in front of him.  Falco picked up the phone on his end.  With uncertainty, Antonio picked up the phone on his end.

“Heya Pops,” Falco said with as warmth as the coldest Fichinan night.

“Shit… which one are you…?” Antonio squinted. “Niccolo?  Francesco…?”

Falco rolled his eyes.  He knew he should not have been surprised.  He knew.

“Falco…” Antonio said, his own eyes lighting up. “Heh.  I remember now.  Falco.  You’re Gianna’s.”           

“Glad we’re on the same page now,” Falco snipped back.  “It’s been awhile, old man.  They gave me a call that you were in here.  Wanted me to talk to you.  I guess you’re involved in some bad stuff now, huh.”  It was phrased like it wasn’t a question—because it wasn’t.  Falco knew his old man was up to no good.  He always had been.

“Guess you could say that,” Antonio said, staring at his son evenly.  “What, did they call you over to get me to squawk?”

“They’re offering you a deal, old man.  You’d better accept it,” Falco replied. “Or you’re not gonna leave prison for a long, long time.  Not that anyone would care.”

“Such the sympathetic son,” Antonio rolled his eyes.  “Gangs don’t like squawkers, Falco.  I think… you’d know that above anyone else.  Or so I hear.”

The way his poisonous green eyes narrowed made Falco want to reach through the glass and throttle him.  But the avian maintained his cool—albeit thinly.  He stared at Antonio with a set of frigid blue eyes.  And then he leaned in so that the feathers on his forehead nearly touched the glass.

“Listen.  They called me to get you to talk.  They thought it’d be a touching father and son sort of moment.  But I’m only here for one thing.  And that’s to look you in the eye and tell you how much of a fucking asswipe you are,” Falco said in a low voice. “You left your wife and a nest full of kids in the Cornerian slums.  And you didn’t look back once.  From what it sounds like?  You started a new life out here on Katina with some lady who didn’t even know you were still married.  And I hope it pays off good for you.  Because you’re not getting a shred of help from me.  Not after what you did.”

Falco rose up, his hands balling into fists.  He leaned against the counter, pressing into the glass as he glared his father down.

“If I could,” the avian whispered. “I’d tell them to let me in with you and turn off the cameras.  Five minutes.  That’s all I’d need.  You don’t know what you did to us when you left.  You’ll never understand it.  Because you don’t care.  You don’t care about anyone but yourself.  I don’t even know why you’re acting like you’re not gonna take the deal because we both know you’ve already committed to it.  It saves your ass a few years in prison.  Suuuure, you’ll have hitmen on you.  But you’ve already run out on one life before.  You can do it again, right?”

Silence.  Falco knew there were guards likely listening in on the call.  He could not find it in himself to care.  He stared down at his old man, into those venomous, bloodshot eyes.  He saw there was fear in them.  Fear at being exposed, perhaps?  Falco believed so.  He would have bet a month’s earnings on it.

“Guess the apple doesn’t fall so far from the tree,” Antonio said after a moment with a delighted smirk.  Falco wish he could have punched it clean off of his beak.

With hatred boiling in his chest, Falco replied, “Enjoy your nights in jail, old man.  And make sure to tell the guards to take me off your file as a contact.”

He hung up the phone, got up, and walked away.  Falco walked past the guard that was supposed to escort him back, ignoring his exclamations that the avian needed to wait.  He walked through the doors back into the front of the police station, where Peppy was waiting.  Falco gave the hare a long look, feeling waves of emotion rock over him like an ocean.  He betrayed not a speck of it—not overtly, at least. 

“Thanks,” he said to the lady at the front and walked out the door with Peppy.

“Falco…” Peppy said once they had rounded the corner. 

The avian stopped in his tracks.  He took in a moment to breathe, to brace for the onslaught of Peppy wisdom that was surely about to hit.  Falco turned to face Peppy, his eyes suddenly snapping wide as he realized the hare was moving towards him with arms outstretched.  Peppy hugged him, pulling the avian close.  Falco could not bring himself to make eye contact with hare.  There were emotions surging within that felt so powerful that he thought he would combust on the spot. 

Peppy opened his mouth to talk but even he seemed to not be able to find the words.  And so they stood in silence for a few long moments.  Sometimes, words weren’t necessary.

“Let’s head back to the Great Fox,” Peppy said after a moment, smiling up at Falco.  He clapped him on the back gently and the two made their way back to their Arwings.

Chapter Text

9 ALW; ANGLAR THRONE ROOM, VENOM 

For as long as he could remember, life had been a dark flow full of strange twisted concepts.  He existed only in the labyrinth of his own mind for a time that felt like an eternity.  It was not a bad existence, but it did not satisfy.  Always, he felt like he was on the cusp of breaking something– an unseen wall that trapped him.  He learned to scream in his mind, pounding his fins against the walls that had encased him for all of his meager life.  In the years before, he remembered voices.  They were muted, water-logged.  Distant… but comforting.  And then the voices had disappeared.  And that had left him to wander the recesses of his own mind.  It was a meaningless confinement…

And then, he opened his eyes.  And he saw the light.  

Years later, the Anglar Emperor was not sure how it had happened.  One day, he felt the wall break.  He felt his eyelids open.  And he saw he was within a strange place.  It was dark beyond the glow of the water in his tube.  There were flickering, damaged lights beyond the glass he rested his fins upon.  He tried to reach beyond the tubes… and found soon enough that the glass was another burden.  But he was smarter now.  He could see now.  

A few punches and the glass shattered, causing him to spill out of the test tube.  He blinked, sputtering.  And then he turned his pupilless eyes to the other tubes around him.  They were there by the hundreds.  Each one occupied with a poor fool not unlike himself.  He crawled towards the closest one, pulling his weak and unaccustomed body up to look at it.  

The creature slept just like him– stout and angular at the head.  Its eyes were closed.  Its large mouth was bent in a permanent frown.  It was naked, its scaled body dark blue and turquoise.  Its body was covered in fins.  

The Anglar Emperor reached back with a fist once more.  And he punched the glass.  It did not break at first.  He kept punching until it did, his fin bloodied by the time he was done.  The other came floundering out, its eyes snapping open with surprise.  The Emperor looked down at him and then croaked out words in a language he was not sure how he knew.

“Come.  The others.”

Each tube was shattered and from it, a loyal citizen was born into the cruel world.  And though they could each survive the land, they quickly found the ocean they were seemingly meant to thrive in– an ocean… he almost seemed to remember from a life before the dark.  And they, the ones who had awoken, began their empire.  His empire.  Because he was the one who had opened his eyes first.  He was the one who had seen the light.

Years later, however, they would find that the surface was taken over once more by the remnants of their creator– that faceless entity the Emperor had heard when he still wandered the dark abyss of his own consciousness.  The Emperor thought for a moment to ally with these remnants… and then he chose not to.  To do so would be to forsake his own sovereignty, and who wanted that?  He was content with his oceanic kingdom and the way it was.  

But things changed– as they always do.  And the day it all changed had begun quite ordinarily.

The Emperor sat upon his throne.  His body had changed with the years.  The ones he had freed had declared him a sovereign and so he was given the best food.  His stomach had turned plump, his fins comparatively becoming quite short.  He lounged, slumped over with a cup of wine in hand.  

It was a quiet day on Venom.  Data charts from his experts showed that they had nearly conquered all of Venom’s oceans.  Next would be the rivers.  And then perhaps they would consider moving onto the land.  But there were troublesome locals there.  The lizards would likely not react kindly to them encroaching upon their territory.  Not to mention the other abominations that dwelled in the dark, toxic jungles…

The doors flung open with a loud wham and he nearly spilled his wine.  Looking up at who had intruded upon his throne room, the Emperor was surprised to see Zazan, one of his decorated generals.  

“My liege,” Zazan said breathlessly. “We’ve just received a report.  The landwalkers have been defeated.  More forces came from the skies.  They have wiped out the ones that resemble our creator.”

The Emperor’s scaley brow furrowed.  What could this mean? 

“Where did these forces come from?” the Emperor asked.

“The heavens,” Zazan shook his head. “We don’t know.  They are bearing a strange symbol.  A symbol that our scouts have seen in the ruins during their trips to the land.”

Zazan pulled forth a small projector from his belt, holding it upright.  It displayed a hologram– a symbol that looked like a sphere with a ring and two leafy branches around it, decorated with crimson stars in its middle.

“We believe these creatures have invaded before.  They may do a full sweep of the planet…” Zazan said.  “I fear our military may not be ready yet to combat them.”

Troubling news indeed.  The Emperor tugged at his blubbery lower lip with thought.  Their creator had imparted certain knowledge to his subjects before his disappearance.  Schematics on how to build structures and ships.  How to speak, read, and write.  How to form societies… how to fight.  And most importantly?  How to plan.  

There were things the Emperor just knew how to do sometimes… and he questioned where it came from.  But he knew that the answer to those questions…. Was lost somewhere in the past.  

“We have cloaking devices set up throughout our kingdom.  We must ensure that they are up at all times.  They have not failed us yet.  Keep all scouting missions to a minimum.  We will seal the kingdom so that none may leave and give away our location to these outsiders.  I would hate it if we were discovered before it’s too late,” the Anglar Emperor said to Zazan. 

“Will… will this delay anything?” Zazan asked.

“No.  In a few years, once we have finished testing the prototypes, we will leave this planet just as we have planned,” the Emperor shook his massive head.  He cracked a sharp, toothy smile, the glowing orb attached to his antenna turning a malicious sickly green. “Can you feel it, Zazan?  The protocol left in our very flesh and blood?”

Zazan paused but nodded.  “Yes, my lord.  I can feel it.  The need to conquer.  The need to carry out…”

“Our creator is dead and gone,” the Anglar Emperor said haughtily, his fanged smile widening. “Let the blood be spilled by those insignificant bugs be for the glory of our work.  The glory of the Anglar Empire.”

“Under your command, we will rise above and lay claim to the Lylat System,” Zazan said with a passionate salute.  “For we are the ones who saw the light.  And you were the one who let us see.”

Chapter Text

10 ALW, SARGASSO SPACE STATION, METEO

It had been a year since they had nearly escaped the destruction of the Aparoid Homeworld with their lives.  Sargasso was thriving once more, as if all of their lives being in mortal peril from an alien invasion had never happened.  They had even seen an increase in members after the destruction of Andrew’s rebellion on Fortuna.  Leon and Wolf had tried to reach out to the simian to see if he was fine.  They had received no word back and Leon knew Wolf was getting antsy about it.  Leon had scoured the TV channels and news reports daily for any update.  But it seemed that as soon as the aparoid invasion had begun, Andrew’s rebellion had pretty much gone forgotten.  Leon only hoped if the young emperor had died, he had died quickly.  

The Venomian sat in the lounge on the highest floor of Sargasso’s living quarters– where Star Wolf stayed during their downtime or while their mothership was being repaired.  He had turned off the TV for now, savoring the quiet of the lounge.  A mug of tea sat nearby, steam still billowing from it and the bag still draped within.  Leon had taken to tea over the past few years.  It reminded him of a warm concoction his mother would brew when they were ill and needed strength.  

As Leon leaned back on the couch, the door opened.  The Venomian cracked an eye open at Panther as he walked in.  There was something thrown over his back.  Leon’s other eye opened and he apprehensively glared at the feline.  Panther pulled the object around his muscled torso and Leon quickly realized it was a stringed instrument of sorts.  The lizard ran his hand down his face in aggravation.  Couldn’t even get a bit of quiet for a few minutes… just a few minutes…

“Hello, Leon,” Panther grinned.  “You look positively radiant today.”

“Stop,” Leon grumbled. “What is that in your hands?”

“An old thing I never thought I would see again,” Panther said, sitting down in a chair across the room.  

The instrument was wooden with small blue and white triangle designs around it.  It reminded him of the white tattoos on Panther’s body.  Leon’s gaze narrowed for a moment, then he leaned back, resting his head against the cushion.

“Do your worst,” the lizard sighed, not wanting to get up.

Panther began to pluck at the strings.  They were a soft trickle of sounds, not unpleasant to listen to.  Leon closed his eyes.  It was a soft but medium-tempo tune.  Somehow, it reminded the lizard of the feeling of the warmth of sand beneath him.  It reminded him of a clear sky… a day without fear.  A day without killing.

He had not expected Panther’s voice but when the lyrics began, Leon found that he was pleasantly surprised.  The feline sang in a language that Leon was not familiar with.  The sound of Panther’s rich, bass voice and the gentle melody was soothing.  What the words meant, Leon could not say.  It sounded as tender as a love song and as passionate as a dirge.  

Yet eventually, the song came to an end.  Panther’s vocals ended and he strummed along for a few more minutes until the last note sang out.  He lowered the instrument, wistfully glancing out the window to the asteroid field outside.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” Leon remarked quietly.

“My mother taught me,” Panther replied. “Singing was a big part of our culture.  She would wake me every morning with a song.  And still rubbing my eyes from slumber, I would sing along.”

“That sounds… nice,” Leon commented.  “What was that song about?”

“It was about two lovers… as most songs are,” Panther replied.

“Not on Venom,” Leon remarked and Panther quirked a brow at him.  The lizard glanced up and said, “Not much room for love when you’re fighting for your life constantly.  My mother had a great song about a giant monster that ate an entire city.  It ends with the monster choking on a bone and dying.”

“Sounds… wonderful,” Panther retorted with a smirk as he plucked a few calm notes. “Sometimes I think to myself ‘Maybe Venom is not that bad’ and then I hear your stories of it and I second guess that thought.”

“It is a land of exiled prisoners sent to die and locals that only have survived through killing,” Leon replied. “It is… awful.”

“And yet, Andross was able to make it not so,” Panther said, looking at the lizard.  “Why is that?”

“Andross had something about him that not many people do.  It was… a level of charisma beyond belief,” Leon answered. “His promises of a better life.  I do believe he could have fulfilled them all.”

“And then Star Fox came,” Panther said.  “Sometimes, it makes them seem a little less like heroes when you think of the progress they halted on Venom.”

“Such is the way of life, Panther,” Leon replied. “Wars are won or lost and the losers don’t get to decide what happens after.”

“Do you regret helping them with the aparoids?” Panther asked. 

“No,” Leon said at once. “That was a matter of… extinction.  To a level that no one could even comprehend.”

“I would like to hear the song about the monster eating the city,” Panther said, looking to the lizard with a smug grin.  “The more I contemplate it, the more I want to hear it.”

“You’ll have to remain disappointed,” Leon retorted.

“Perhaps then… if we are to ever stop by Venom, you could introduce me to your mother,” Panther suggested.

“I would be introducing you to a grave,” Leon said coolly and Panther fell quiet for a moment.

“Something we share in common,” lamented the feline quietly.  

Silence fell upon the two, interrupted only by Panther picking up another melody once more.  This one was noticeably more sad and melancholy.  He did not sing this time but Leon knew he did not need to in order to get the song’s meaning across.  They sat together as Panther played.  Outside, the stars glittered and gleamed.  The world seemed peaceful for once.  But if Leon knew anything, there was always trouble coming.  

Chapter Text

11 ALW; THE NIGHTHOWL, NEAR SECTOR X        

            Nights away from Sargasso were spent more often than not on Star Wolf’s long-range carrier vessel, aptly named the Nighthowl.  After nearly dying to save the Lylat System from the aparoid scourge and their bounty not even being reduced in the slightest, Wolf had decided that they would not be staying at any hotels in case someone saw them and tipped off the Cornerians.

            Not that it mattered on that particular night.  Star Wolf had been dispatched by a mysterious client to the ruins of an old Venomian base near Sector X.  They were to delve into the base and salvage whatever they could off of the computer systems still there-- if they were even functional.  It seemed like a simple enough job, with the only drag being the long journey to the location in question.

            Krystal stood in the bridge, donned in a fur-lined jacket and pants tucked into her boots.  Arms crossed over her chest, she looked out the spanning windows overhead at the stars just beyond the glass.  All of the other crew had gone to bed, leaving the navigation on auto and under the supervision of an android.  Krystal let it do its job, keeping silently to herself as the Nighthowl drifted further towards the chaotic green and blue nebula in the distance.  They would be at their destination soon and the vixen knew she needed to rest but for some reason, she just couldn’t sleep.  Too many thoughts had come to stay for the night and she found herself distracted and at a loss.

            She watched space instead, wrapped up in a quiet frustrated storm that circulated within her mind.  She didn’t even notice that she wasn’t alone.

            The scent of a cigarette caught her nose and Krystal turned to see Wolf standing in the darkness.  A soft glow emanated from his cigarette, which he cradled between two fingers gingerly.  He said nothing to her as he stepped up so that they were shoulder-to-shoulder.  Wolf inhaled and exhaled out a trail of smoke, tapping the cigarette twice. 

            “Looks pretty, doesn’t it?” Wolf asked her, his sole eye staring out at Sector X.  “Almost makes you forget it’s home to ruins and decades-old corpses.”

            “Charming,” Krystal remarked quietly. “I’ve heard tales of this place.  Is it true a weapon backfired and caused all of the destruction?”

            “Yeah,” Wolf replied. “I wasn’t there for it, but I hear it was a sight to see.  Lots of people died.  The weapon went nuts and killed everyone it could get its hands on.”

            “Andross’s creation?” Krystal asked.

            Wolf took another long drag from his cigarette, his response flanked by wisps of smoke.

            “Yep.”

            “For a man with such genius, you’d think he’d have programmed it better,” Krystal said coolly, looking from the nebula to her boss.

            “My dad was a deadbeat but he had a nice little sayin’.  ‘Genius is just one step away from madness’,” the edges of Wolf’s muzzle turned into a small smirk. “There was a rumor Andross did it on purpose, anyways.  Dunno who started the gossip but there were a lot of notable scientists there that didn’t see eye-to-eye with the dead emperor.”

            “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” the vixen commented. “He was an awful man.”

            “He was,” Wolf nodded in agreement.  “Anyways, I don’t wanna talk about that guy.  What’re you doing outta bed this late and with such a serious expression?”

            Krystal felt her fur prickle as his eye fell back upon her in scrutiny.  She slid her hands into the warmth of her armpits and glanced down at her feet.

            “I was just thinking of dyeing my hair.”

            Wolf erupted into laughter, so fast that he had to catch his cigarette.  He coughed a few times, wiping at his muzzle with the back of his sleeve.  It was stained with drops of saliva when he lowered his arm.  He tried to compose himself but she could tell he was struggling to. 

            “Really?  That’s why you’re scowling so hard?” He asked her, voice still fringed with a chuckle.

            “Y-yes!” Krystal replied, ears back. “I mean, what sort of answer were you expecting?!”

            “Somethin’ a little more broody.  Usually people don’t sit and look at the stars unless they’ve really got something on their mind,” Wolf shrugged. “What color are you thinking?”

            “Purple,” Krystal said, holding up her arm and inspecting it. “I know a lot of Lylatians dye their fur bright colors.  I guess I was born a bit... erm… gifted in that regard.  So I was just thinking of changing it up a little.  Starting with the hair.  Gotta start small.”

            “Go for it, if you want,” Wolf shrugged again. “I think it’d suite you.”

            “Thanks!” Krystal smiled at him.  “Do… do you think Panther would hate it?”

            “If he does, I’ll kick his ass,” Wolf said smugly.

            Krystal’s ears went back but she chortled. “Awful, the lot of you.  I… appreciate it, though, Wolf.”

            “Anytime, sweetheart,” Wolf smirked, sliding the cigarette back into his mouth.

            “Why are you awake?” Krystal asked.

            “Insomnia,” Wolf said carelessly as he wandered over towards one of the crew’s stations.  He glanced at the monitor displaying their arrival time and sighed.  “Kinda wanted to fly for a bit but gotta save fuel.  Never know when we’ll be able to land next after this mission.  Miss civilian life yet?”

            Krystal paused for thought, rubbing her chin.  She supposed there were aspects that she did miss—being able to freely walk the streets of most cities was nice.  Star Wolf was notorious enough so that they had to be careful wherever they docked.  One tip off to the Cornerians and they would be on the run with the threat of imprisonment breathing down their necks.  It was a harder life than the one she had gotten used to on the Great Fox but it was filled with a sort of thrill she had never experienced before.

            “Sometimes,” the vixen admitted, her teal gaze moving back to the stars overhead. “But… it’s gone now.  No sense in dwelling on it.”

            Along with everything else she had lost and tried not to think about.  It seemed like no matter what she did, everything slipped through her fingers.  She wondered when she would lose Star Wolf too.  That was a thought that glistened her eyes with the faintest traces of tears.

            “Y’know,” Wolf said, glancing back at her. “It’s fine to miss things.  It’s fine to want things, too.  Hell.  It’s fine to even be pissed about how things happened.”

            “What’s this?  A life lesson with Wolf O’Donnell?” Krystal asked with the quirk of a brow.  She strained to keep her voice steady.

            “I’m just sayin’ it ‘cause I feel like you need to hear it,” Wolf shrugged. “And I bet Fox never said that to you.”

            She felt Fox’s name run through her like ice water.  Her body tensed up and she could feel her breath caught in her throat.  Krystal hated thinking about him.  She hated knowing he was somewhere out there, likely having moved on and replaced her.  There were rumors that the team had disbanded formally but she wasn’t sure she believed that.  After all, hadn’t those same rumors circulated before she had come into the picture? 

            Wolf’s remorsefully stared at her.  He shook his head then exhaled out more smoke.  His boots sounded loud with each step, but she knew it was because of the quiet all around them.  With his free hand, he clasped her shoulder, turning his head slightly to side-eye her.

            “It’ll be okay someday,” he said to her quietly and then began back towards the door leading out of the bridge.

            She let the comment wash over her like water, fighting to keep it out of the cold armor she had learned to build around herself throughout the years of abandonment and loss.  The vixen steeled herself, clenching her jaw and watching Wolf’s retreating form.  Part of her wanted to spit venom at him, to snap at him and tell him he didn’t know what he was talking about.  But there was another part of her that quelled that tempest rage… the part of her that knew better. 

            “Off to bed so soon?” Krystal asked, abruptly changing the subject because she knew it would go nowhere good otherwise.

            “Nah, I’m gonna go make sure the Wolfens have all been tuned,” Wolf said over his shoulder.

            “But… you did that earlier,” the vixen pointed out and the canine stopped in the doorway.

            “Yeah but I feel better when my hands are moving and when my brain is focused,” Wolf replied.

            “Then… why not fly for a while?  We can turn off the bots and swap it to manual.  I’ll be your co-pilot,” Krystal suggested and Wolf turned around.

            “Sure,” Wolf replied, walking back to her. “Just don’t fall asleep on me.”

            “I’ll do my best,” Krystal smiled and the two settled down in a couple of chairs sitting next to each other. 

Chapter Text

2 BLW; INVERNESS CITY, MACBETH

            It was just supposed to be another normal day but Falco supposed no day was really normal in the Hot Rodders.  He had been lounging in a local pub with a plate full of fries when he had caught Katt’s devious smirk.  She always smirked when she had one of her terrible ideas and even though Falco had told her they were just going to be stopping by Macbeth to fuel up and rest from their planet-hopping excursions, he just knew she was going to get them wrapped up into some sort of trouble. 

            “No,” Falco said the moment Katt approached him, a glass of lemonade in her hand.

            She sat next to him, propping up one of her legs onto his.  The glass danced between her palms, her smirk widening like a fault within hard stone.  She rested her chin on her hand, looking at him with those delicate, sweet blue eyes that knew no sense of boundary or half-measures.

            “I didn’t even ask yet,” pouted the feline playfully.  She glanced down at the plate of fries Falco had in front of him, plucking a particularly salty one from the basket, and sticking it in her mouth.  As she suckled the salt grains off of it, she stared evenly at the avian.

            “Besides, this time, I think you’ll like it.”

            “Oh yeah?” Falco asked, clearly not impressed.

            “There’s some… questionable people outside.  I think they’re making an underhanded business deal.  Anyways, one of them has a fancy ride.  Whatd’ya say we… take it for a spin?” Katt winked at him.

            “That’s how you get shot, Katt,” Falco shook his head. “No.”

            “But… I already have the keys?” Katt asked, holding up a small keyring with two keys.  It was looped around her finger, dangling with a small clink as the metal bumped into each other.

            “You’re joking,” Falco said sourly but then asked more curiously, “How fancy of a ride are we talkin’?”

            “Sleek as any hoity-toity Cornerian bike and at least five times cooler."

            “Bike…” Falco took one fry and dunked it into ketchup. “That’s tempting.  Where’re the others at?”

            “Who needs ‘em?” Katt winked. “It can be just you and me this time, Falco.”

            Her hands moved over, clasping over his.  Her smile was three-parts devil and one-part starstruck.  Falco sighed, closing his eyes and then dunking more fries into the ketchup.  He shoved them all into his beak and chewed pensively.  Falco knew if he looked at her, he would cave all the more easily.  She begged and pleaded like an expert, worming her way through his defenses.

            “Well.  Help me finish these fries and I’ll think about it,” the avian relented, as he always did when Katt begged. 

            “Yessssss!” the feline said happily, her tipped tail flicking back and forth with anticipation.

            When they had downed the fries, Falco let Katt lead him out the door to whatever dark doom she had planned for them both.  He tried to tell himself this wasn’t going to go horribly wrong—knowing he was most certainly telling himself that because he wanted to believe it.  Katt had the biggest penchant for trouble among their gang and while most leaders would’ve kicked a troublemaker like her to the curb, Falco was too soft-hearted.  And, not to mention, she had been the one to introduce him to this life.

            As soon as they cleared the glass doors of the pub, Falco saw their target.  Down the perfectly paved street was a hoverbike, sitting beneath one of the city’s neon blue streetlights.  It was not the rickety model he was used to piloting—not some heap of scrap welded together poorly.  It was built for speed and leisure both, colored a sleek black that matched the dismal backdrop of Macbeth, with lights that glimmered an iridescent cyan along the sides.  There were thin jagged silver lines decorating it as well, outlining where certain bits of metal had been made to fit together. 

            It was a one-seater but if Falco knew anything, you could cram up to two people safely on most bikes.  Three unsafely… and if you were desperate.  He glanced over at Katt, unable to wipe the smug smile from his beak.

            “Gimme the keys,” he said and Katt giggled before dropping them into his hand. 

            He strolled up to it calmly.  Having stolen a million times by now, he knew the key to getting a head start was to act natural, like everything was going according to plan.  When he had made it within touching range, he tried his best not to act terribly enamored by it.  Although it was obvious that a man of his stature would have done some shady business to own such a bike, he did not look anyone in the eye that might have been questioning him.  Instead, he swung his leg over the seat and settled, sliding the keys in.  He turned his wrist and the bike’s engines hummed to life.  Katt immediately ran by his side, hopping on behind him.  Falco could hear her giggles.

            “Wait!” a voice hissed and Falco looked over his shoulder to see two people coming out of a nearby store.

            The first was a tall gray wolf, donned in a black overcoat with a faded red shirt underneath.  He had an eyepatch over his left eye and a scowl on his muzzle. The second was a lizard in a black sleeveless shirt, his orange eyes narrowed angrily at the two of them.  The wolf grabbed his gun but before he could pull it out, Falco hit the accelerate and the two thieves rocketed away.

            Katt wrapped her arms tightly around Falco’s torso as they ducked into the casual flow of Macbethian traffic.  Cars and other bikes honked loudly at them as Falco bobbed and weaved between vehicles, glancing occasionally in the rearview mirror.  He smiled at first, certain they had just effectively plucked candy from a baby.  And then he saw the wolf and lizard gaining on them, jointly riding a second bike of the same model and color.

            “Oh.  There’s another one,” Falco said, voice shrill with worry.  He threw the bike into a faster setting as he frantically looked for a good opportunity to turn off the road they were on.  Maybe if they took a few sharp turns, they could lose their pursuers?

            “No fun without a chase, I guess!” Katt exclaimed gleefully, as if this was all a game.

            Falco wished he could share her enthusiasm

            The other speeder, piloted by the wolf, was gaining on them and Falco knew it.  He glanced up in time to see the car next to them slow down and the avian thrusted the bike forward, pulling into the right lane.  At the crossroads ahead, the light was red but Falco knew that normal street rules didn’t matter when you were in the middle of grand theft auto.  He turned sharply down the perpendicular street at the intersection, feeling Katt’s grip around him tighten.

            At the end of the street were a series of metallic barriers and a sign cautioning that there was construction ahead.  Immediately the avian’s heart leapt in fear but soon after, he spied a narrow opening down the street and to the left—an alleyway!  If he could make it to the furthest lane, he could go down it, maybe fast enough for their pursuers to lose sight of them.  It was a gamble but he knew they had to risk it.

            “Hold on!” He yelled to Katt as he dodged behind a truck then immediately cut in front of another bike.

            Though there were shouts coming from the angry rider behind them, Falco put his focus heavily on his goal.  The alley was on the far side of the street, past the traffic going the other way.  He adjusted his grip slightly, watching the incoming flow of traffic anxiously.  He would have to time this perfectly or risk being made into roadkill. 

            Their chance came when a bus passed by, with a lengthy gap between its tail lights and the car behind it. Falco instinctively hit the accelerate again.  He swerved out in front of the car, its desperate honks deafening.  He drove the bike into the alleyway at breakneck speed… only to slam the breaks when he realized it was a deadend.

            “Not good!” the avian squawked as the nose of the bike came within a foot of the wall blocking it off. 

            “Falco!” Katt tugged on his jacket and he looked behind them in time to see the wolf and lizard enter the alleyway.

            The lizard leapt off the bike at once, pulling a blaster from his belt in one motion and aiming it directly at Falco.

            “Get off my bike,” hissed the lizard, walking forward cautiously.  His friend angled his own bike so that it blocked off their escape and then swung his leg over to hop down from it, all the while drawing his own gun.

            Falco was a creature of pride and ego.  Ever since Katt had pulled him out of the Corneria City slums, he had spent years building street cred and a reputation for their gang.  And yet even he knew when he was beat.  A scowl etched firmly on his beak, he tossed his feline companion a cold, sapphire glare.  Though he knew she wasn’t the only person to blame, he shoved most of the responsibility on her.  Even if it wasn’t entirely fair.

            “Okay… okay…” Falco said, holding his hands up.  “C’mon, Katt.”

            Both the avian and the feline dismounted the bike. 

            “The keys,” the lizard hissed and Falco apprehensively held them out.  Angrily, the reptile snatched the keys away from him, still training his gun on Falco’s chest.  Falco had no doubt that if he made one wrong move, the lizard would fire. 

            “You two have some serious balls pullin’ a stunt like that,” the wolf remarked. “I’m almost impressed.”

            Falco had seen his fair share of bandits, space pirates, and thugs over the years.  He knew immediately as the two drew closer that there was something different about these two.  Maybe Katt had mistaken them for local druglords but just the way they carried themselves spoke a different story.  The avian’s eyes narrowed.  When the lizard moved, he made no sound.  The wolf held his gun lazily from a glance but the more Falco inspected, the more he realized the canine was at the ready to open fire in a moment’s notice.

            “Shall I shoot them, Boss?” the lizard asked. “A blood price may sate my stinging pride.”

            “No.  I don’t wanna answer to eh… any higher powers about makin’ a scene here,” the wolf replied. “Besides, I think our pals here have learned their lesson.”

            “We have,” Katt said with earnesty only fueled by having a gun pointed at her.

            “Good lass,” the wolf replied with a smirk. “Now… mess with us again and I’ll leave your corpses here for the dogs to find.  Clear?”

            “Clear as crystal,” Katt nodded.

            “Let’s go, Leon,” the wolf said and the lizard grabbed his bike’s handles, pulling himself on it.  Cheekily, the wolf added. “And make sure you don’t let some Macbethian street rat pickpocket you again.”

            “Yes, sir,” Leon said sourly and before Falco knew it, the two had left on their bikes, leaving Katt and Falco along in the dark alley.

            With a sigh, Katt let her shoulders sag.  She blew a tuft of her creamy white hair from her eyes and then glanced at Falco with a small, guilty smile.  The avian side-eyed her, shook his head, and began to walk away. 

            “Whaaaaat?  Hey, I’m not the one who put us in a dead end!” Katt exclaimed with a pout.

            “Never again.  I’m never listening to you again,” Falco said begrudgingly. “Call Kool to pick us up.  I’m not walking back to the ship.”

            “Okay, okay,” Katt sighed. “I’m sorry, Falco.”

            “Yeah, yeah,” Falco said and plopped down, leaning his back against the wall.

            He thought of the lizard and the wolf again, playing their appearances over in his mind.  They were… a curious pair.  He supposed he could thank his lucky stars they had wanted to not make a scene by brutally murdering two petty thieves in the back Macbethian alleyways.  Whoever they were, he sincerely hoped he didn’t run into them again. 

Chapter Text

11 ALW; KATINA CITY CDF BASE, KATINA CITY

            One, two, three… One, two, three…!

            Miyu struck the punching bag in rhythmic repetition, her arms covered in armguards that extended down to her elbows.  She turned on the next set, lashing out with a foot and kicking the faded red bag directly in its center.  She stood there for a moment, balanced, her large ears back and her chest heaving with exertion.  Momentarily, her dark sapphire eyes flicked to the clock, which marked an exact hour since she had entered the gym.  A small fanged smile crossed the feline’s mouth and she sent a second kick into the bag before backing off with a tiny, sporty hop. 

            She wandered over to the blue bench where she had left all of her belongings and grabbed her water bottle.  Squeezing some of the iced water into her mouth, Miyu glanced over at the doors as they swung open.  A group of dogs walked in—all Cornerian born, she would have guessed.  Their workout clothes were designer-brand with material that made for easy breathing and minimizing sweat stains.  She didn’t recognize any of them.  Maybe they were new?

            “Ugh.  Can you believe we got stuck in Katina City?” one of them, an overly muscled shepherd was saying to the others. “Talk about the lamest place in the Lylat System.  Is there even anything to do here?”

            “There’s big mushrooms,” one of his companions pointed out.

            “Too bad you can’t eat ‘em,” the first dog remarked with a snicker.  “Oh, check it.  It’s our friend from before.”

            Miyu’s spotted fur bristled and her gaze followed the canine’s, towards a thin looking cadet working on his chin ups.  He was a lop-eared bunny with soft white fur, physically cut for no more than maybe sprinting away from bullies in a school yard.  He had large glasses that rested atop his short snout and a look of pure horror as the gang of dogs started to approach.

            “Heya Buck,” the first dog said, wandering up to where the bunny was struggling to pull himself up.  If Miyu didn’t know any better, she would have guessed he was now invigorated with a sense of fear that made him want to go anywhere but on the ground.  Unfortunately, the dog seemed to understand this too.

            “You havin’ some problems there, Bucko?  Need a hand?” the dog asked.

            “N-n-no!  I’m o…. o… okay, Axe,” Buck yelped, his legs flailing about in a panic as Axe sized him up.  “R-r-really!  I’m fine!”

            “Well, of course you’re fine.  You aren’t feeling the burn yet ‘cause you’re doing it all wrong,” Axe grinned sinisterly.  He reached up and grabbed Buck’s ankle. “Here, pull up.  I’ll help.”

            “Axe…” Buck whined.

            Miyu sat down her water bottle, eye glued to the scene.  Buck struggled to lift his chin over the bar but she soon realized Axe was not even pulling down on him.  Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, ears turning back.  What was the scheme here?

            “Almost there, buddy, I believe in you,” Axe snickered and his companions goaded him on with smirks and cackles.

            When Buck did manage to get his chin over the bar, she saw Axe’s smile widen.  Her heart leapt in fearful realization but before she could react.  Axe jerked the bunny down, causing his chin to slam into the bar.  Buck fell backwards, onto the mat with eyes shut in pain.  He grabbed his jaw, cradling it with both of his hands.  Axe and his friends howled with laughter.

            Rage boiled in her chest as she walked over towards the bunny on his back and the dogs circled around him with their jeers and sneers.  She made sure her claws were out when she grabbed Axe by the shoulder, spinning him around so he faced her.  Axe’s eyes snapped wide in surprise, having clearly not expected to be challenged.

            “What’s the big idea, huh?” the lynx hissed in his face.  Despite being shorter than the shepherd by several inches, her plain red tank top and black shorts made it evident that she was muscled and much less easy prey than the lapine on the ground. 

            “Who’re you?” Axe asked with a scoff as soon as he regained his composure.

            “Help him up and get him to the med bay,” Miyu snapped, ignoring his question. “You could’ve broken his jaw.”

            “ ‘Mmmfine,” Buck mumbled sorely from the ground, his beady eyes shining with agonized tears.  His hands still gingerly rubbed his jaw.

            “He’s fine, see?” Axe sneered, gesturing to the bunny. “Besides, that’s only a taste of what the military’s like.  A softie like him won’t cut it for more than five minutes on a battlefield.  He’s a waste of military resources.”

            “Your opinion doesn’t matter.  If he made it through the screening, then he’s already proven himself,” Miyu snapped back. 

            “Who’re you?” Axe repeated, his muscled chest puffing out.  “And what sorta right do you have to order me around, huh?”

            Just as it had all the times before, something snapped within her.  His haughtiness.  Buck’s defenseless moans on the groan as he clutched his snout.  The circle of dogs behind Axe, snickering and muttering about themselves.  Miyu had lived with a raging fire that had burned within her heart since the day the aparoids had come to Corneria.  Since the day her squadron had been nearly wiped out.  Since the day the skies over Lylat’s paradise had run dark with the enemies.

            It was a fire that was sated only by blood.

            The feline’s ears went back.  Her hand formed a fist, seething wrath burning within her irises like twin blue flames.  She struck with such ferocity and speed that there was no way Axe would have seen it coming.  His feet left the ground when her punch made contact with the left corner of his jaw.  The shepherd’s head snapped to the side, his eyes bulging in horror.  He stumbled one step to the side—just enough to close the gap between his face and Miyu’s second, powerful swing.

            He reeled from this one and fell back onto his butt.  His entourage gasped.  Miyu looked down at him mercilessly, her knuckles vaguely stinging from each blow.  In the heat of the moment, she felt nothing but the anger inside of her, the anger that wanted to grab that punk dog by his collar and slam him into the ground. 

            And then the door opened.

            “Lynx!” came a familiar shout and Miyu’s rage dissipated at once.

            Ears pinned back, she looked towards the three officers running in.  The one in the front was Bill Grey, her direct superior.  His sunglasses were in positioned atop his forehead, bouncing with each step.  He had a panicked expression, his brown eyes dragging from the downed Axe to Buck and then to Miyu, whose fists were still curled.

            “Lynx, stand down,” Bill said at once and then looked to one of the other soldiers. “Get that cadet to the med bay.  Alfirk, are you okay?”

            “Yeah,” Axe said weakly, sitting up.  His murderous glare pierced through Miyu. “You damn bitch.  I’ll see you thrown in jail for that.”

            “Alfirk, you are to stand down immediately,” Bill snapped then looked at Miyu, “My office, Lynx.  Now.”

            Even a firebrand like Miyu knew when she was out of her element.  As she had so many times before under Bill’s stern glare, she held up her hands and walked away from the downed Axe Alfirk.  She glanced guiltily at her superior but that did not change the frown on his muzzle.  He led her out of the room and soon the two were down the hallway, around the corner, and seated in Bill Grey’s office. 

            Bill sat on his side of the desk, hands clasped together and elbows resting on his desk.  His office was small, cramped, and not very pleasant to sit in but she had been in here enough times to know how to make herself comfortable.  The feline waited for the reprimand to come, quietly tucking her hands into her lap.

            There was no yelling, though.  There never was.  Bill was many things but he was not a drill sergeant.  Just a tired dog with more talent in his pinky toe than most pilots had in their entire body.

            “That’s the second time this month,” Bill sighed at her.

            “I know,” Miyu said, her ears back. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

            “You’ve really done it this time, Lynx,” Bill shook his head. “That’s the Commander of the CDF’s son, y’know.  Axe Alfirk.  Son of Robert Alfirk.  You’ll be lucky if you only get a slap on the wrist like last time.” 

            The canine rubbed his snort snout, closing his eyes and sighing again.  She felt sorry for him and did feel remorse about what she had done… but she knew she didn’t regret it enough to want a do-over.  She didn’t regret it enough to wish she had never done it. 

            “Whatever they decide to do to me, I’ll have earned it,” Miyu said firmly. “And I’d do it over again.  What that guy did to that cadet wasn’t right.”

            “That may be and maybe that’ll get you a lighter punishment.  But I can’t help but wonder, Miyu… Why’d you join the Cornerian Defense Force?” Bill asked her. “It seems like you’re allergic to listening.”

            The feline folded her arms, but couldn’t meet the bulldog’s gaze.  Her sapphire eyes stared evenly ahead of her, mouth drawn into a taut frown. 

            “I just wanted to make a difference is all.  Even if it’s just one person.”

            Even though she could not bring herself to look at Bill, she noted his slight nod. 

            “Sometimes, I wonder if you’re cut out for this.  I won’t lie, Lynx.  Fistfighting nearly everyone in the base who looks at you the wrong way isn’t gonna get you promoted any time soon,” Bill said. “But that sort of spark and spunk… there may yet be a place for you out there.”

            “Are you… dismissing me?” Miyu’s ears went up in surprise, her eyes widening.

            “No.  As much as you’re a pain and cause me to fill out a lot of paperwork, I’d rather keep you around.  But it doesn’t seem to me like you’re happy,” Bill shook his head. “The CDF lifestyle is restrictive.  They don’t want you to think around here.  They want you to obey.  So maybe if you’ve spent all this time here… maybe it’s time for you to look at what may suit ya better.”

            The canine turned around and grabbed a piece of paper off a nearby filing cabinet.  He blew some dust off of it, then slid it in front of her.  Miyu realized quickly by the seal at the top of the paper that this was not an official document from the CDF… or from Corneria, for that matter. 

            It was the seal of the Star Fox team.  Miyu’s eyes scanned over the top.  It was an application.  An application to join the Star Fox team.  Slowly her gaze moved from the paper to Bill, jaw hanging in sheer surprise.

            “I know.  You put in some serious hours and effort when the aparoids came.  And when the Anglars came, too,” Bill said. “And we’re thankful for it.  I know it… wasn’t easy.  But maybe this…?”

            “You… you want me to apply?” Miyu stammered.

            “I’m giving you this application ‘cause I know Fox.  He’s looking for recruits.  They got a hefty paycheck after the Anglar stuff went down.  They’re wanting to hire someone and flesh the team out more,” Bill said. “He gave me some applications if I saw anyone that might fit the bill.  I know the General probably wouldn’t want me to, but… I’ll be honest?  With your battle history?  You’re perfect for this team.  And I think you’ll be happier.”

            Miyu picked up the application reverently in both hands.  All of the tiny text going over what she needed to fill out was so clustered together that it made her vision go cross-eyed.  She shook herself vigorously, large ears twitching.  She held the application close to her chest, taking in a deep breath.  Was this the right call?  Was she really happy in the CDF?

            “Keep this to yourself,” Bill added. “I don’t want people to think I’m favoring you.  Which I’m not.  I’m assigning you to cleaning duty for the bathrooms.  That’s until Command comes back with your official punishment.”

            “C-cleaning duty?!  Toilets!?” Miyu stammered then glanced back down at the far more appealing application.

            “Well.  You can’t go around punching people,” Bill retorted. “Anyways, think on it.  But not too long because he’s drowning in applications.  He’ll close down submissions soon.”

            “I… I understand,” Miyu nodded.

            There were a lot of thoughts swarming about her mind as she left her captain’s office.  Thoughts that swarmed her throughout the day without an ounce of mercy.  Even after she had scrubbed every toilet on every floor and after the clock had struck midnight.  Everyone else in the base was asleep by the time 1 a.m. rolled around but Miyu Lynx found herself staring out into the Katinan sky with thoughts of a new life ahead of her. 

Chapter Text

1 ALW; CORNERIA CITY, CORNERIA --

                General Pepper was not a man that liked surprises.  In fact, the hound would venture to say he hated surprises.  Especially when they came in the form of finding out one of his most loyal advisors had been hiding something from him.  Although “something” was putting the matter lightly, to be frank.  Because “something” would imply something… insignificant.  A surprise birthday party.  A tiny lie to protect a friend’s feelings.  A small fib to get out of work.

            In this case, “something” meant a planet.  A dwarf planet, mind you, but an entire planet nonetheless. 

            The Lylat System was a fairly civilized place, all things considered.  Although some of the planets sported biomes that ill-suited various Lylatians, most planets had colonies in some form or another.  All of the planets had been accounted for, were put into their records, were kept track of.  So imagine General Pepper’s surprise when one of the Cornerian Army patrols reported back that they had detected weird energy readings from what says in their archives is a vast empty space.  Imagine General Pepper’s surprise, if you will, when he sent an investigative team out to find out what is causing the readings… and wordlessly, they messaged him a picture of a rocky, brown planet with the unmistakable mug of Grippy Toad terraformed onto its surface.

            General Pepper had shattered his favorite mug that day.  He slammed his fist and mug both onto the flat of his desk’s surface.  The handle came off.  Black coffee spilled everywhere, nearly ruining his keyboard and a stack full of documents.  But the old hound dog didn’t care much about those things.  He cared far more about the blatant betrayal of trust.

            “I want that toad in my office.  In cuffs, if need be,” the hound said brusquely to Sergeant Vega, who had been spearheading the investigation. When Vega had hung up, the General had immediately phoned in Space Dynamics—the direct line to Beltino Toad, to be precise.

            “Good morning, Beltino,” the General said in the call, staring directly into the toad’s eyes as if there was not a veritable ocean that put Aquas to shame dribbling all over his desk. “How are you today?”

            The words were polite.  The strained tone was not.  Beltino was an awkward, dorky man, but he was far from stupid.  The bumbling toad adjusted his spectacles, staring at the General as if a scrutinizing look would adequately measure the level of the hound’s rage. 

            “A-ah, um!  H-hello there, General!  My, what an expected call!” Beltino said with a blend of uncertainty and forced jovialness. “What can I um… What can I do for you?”

            “Oh, I was hoping you’d answer a question for me, Beltino,” General Pepper responded with a level, but tense, voice. “If you have a minute?”

            “Of course!” Beltino replied.

            “Good, good… Can you tell me about this?” General Pepper asked him, clicking on the chatbox and forwarding him the image that Vega had sent him.  Grippy’s face etched into the planet’s surface ignited a spark of rage in the General’s chest but he quelled it swiftly. “I would be curious to hear your explanation for such an interesting environmental phenomenon.”

            Beltino’s blue eyes snapped wide in shock, his mouth agape in horror.  Flabbergasted, he glanced about the room, so swiftly that his glasses nearly fell off of his face.

            “O-oh… oh dear…” Beltino fumbled. “What an… what an odd… ahem!  An odd… development…”

            “Beltino,” General Pepper leaned in. “Did you know about this?”

            “N-no,” Beltino lied.  Blatantly.  Sweat drenched his face, dripping down his temples like waterfalls.  The hound was not convinced.

            “Beltino,” General Pepper began. “The truth, please.”

            Beltino cracked instantly.  On the spot.  The General watched the Director of Space Dynamics wither into a sweaty heap in his chair, hiding his face behind his hands.  He could tell the man was shaking fearfully.  And as he should be.  Though there was no rule dictating that hiding an entire planet was illegal, the General was quite certain that it fell somewhere in the category of tax evasion to utilize all of that land and not pay a dime over it.  That was, of course, assuming Grippy had the authority to even claim the planet as his… not the General doubted that was the toad’s intentions.  After all.  His face on was on the thing.

            “Oh… oh all right!” Beltino wailed. “I knew about it, okay!  I knew what he was doing, I just… I just…”

            “Didn’t report it?” General Pepper asked with a quirked brow, looking very unimpressed.

            “Yes!” Beltino cried out. “I told him he had to tell you.  I swear I did!  Especially if he was… was establishing a base there… Oh, please don’t send him to prison, General, I beg you!  He was just being defensive, got spooked after that Pigma guy tried to wreck his bases.”

            “I see,” General Pepper replied in a low voice, rubbing his chin. “Well.  I’ll have to speak with your brother about this horrible decision on his part.  But I am a man who can respect trying to protect what is yours.  Maybe we can make an arrangement.”

            “Y-yes…” Beltino said sorrowfully.

            “And maybe I can ignore the fact that you covered for him if… hm.  Those prototype blueprints I ordered.  When were they supposed to come in?”

            “Two weeks from—”

            “Tomorrow?  I think that’s correct.  Yes.  Tomorrow.  On my desk.”

            General Pepper’s glare bore holes through the toad.  He knew he had won.  What was Beltino going to do?  Refuse?  Spend a few nights in jail for it?  They were friends and comrades, but General Pepper suffered no slights. 

            “Y-yes, General,” Beltino said. “I’ll… I’ll get right to that!  Right away, sir!”

            “Good,” the hound replied, delighted. “See that you do.”

            It took Cornerian officials about five hours to locate and apprehend Grippy Toad.  General Pepper was made aware of the toad’s arrival just a few minutes prior to his door opening.  It gave him enough time to practice his glares in the reflection of his computer screen.  He straightened his outfit as soon as the police arrived with the orange toad between two of their strongest officers.  Chief of police Samantha Lane took up the front of the small entourage, her hands going to her hips as soon as she stopped in front of the General’s desk.

            “I got the toad, just as you ordered,” the stoic police chief remarked, glancing back at the shivering Grippy Toad.

            “H-hey there, G-General Pepper… Well…. Golly… this is um… this is something!” Grippy squeaked.  He held up his hands, which were bound in a set of metallic cuffs. 

            “Hello Grippy,” General Pepper said in his measured, enraged tones.  He had been practicing that, too, for extra intimidation purposes.  He glanced across the desk from Chief Lane to Grippy.  “I apologize for the interruption to your day.  However, we’ve received some incredibly troubling news regarding Corneria Precious Metals.”

            General Pepper typed into his computer, pulling up a program to run a hologram of the picture Sergeant Vega had sent him.  Within the matter of a few seconds, the picture of the planet Grippy had terraformed his face into appeared.  The General zoomed in for good measure, staring at the toad as he wilted nearly to the ground.

            “I…I don’t know… what you mean!” Grippy squeaked.  “W-what’s this… about?”

            “Grippy,” General Pepper said tiredly, ignoring the toad’s whimpering act of innocence. “Do you care to explain this?”

            “Explain w-w-w-what?” Grippy yelped.

            “Grippy.  Why is it we found an entire CPM operation on this thus-far unrecorded planet?” the General asked.

            “W-what?!  H-h-how crazy!” Grippy said in feigned shock.  “I-I-I didn’t know a-a-a-about this!”

            “Grippy,” General Pepper began again, voice lowering. “It has your face on its side.”

            “I…” the toad floundered.

            “If there’s no explanation for this, I can only assume this must be some elaborate prank by hmm… maybe one of Andross’s bolder former generals?  There are still Venomian forces out there, you know, despite their leader’s death,” General Pepper said thoughtfully as he scratched beneath his chin. “If that’s the case, we can only assume this planet is tainted by the Androssians.  Might be best to have one of the nearby stations send missiles its way.  You know.  Just in case it’s an enemy base.  We can’t suffer to let there be any insurrection.”

            “D-don’t you touch my Grippia!” Grippy wailed.

            Grippia.  He even had the audacity to name it after himself.  The General scowled at him.

            “All right, all right, fine!  I hid a planet from everyone.  I made sure it was off the records.  I made sure no one knew about it!  I just wanted a place to store all my minerals—during the Lylat Wars, you just never knew what was safe anymore!  I mean, you saw what happened to Macbeth!  All those poor miners got enslaved… and all those minerals got taken!  Well, I didn’t want that to happen here so I… I built a secret base!” Grippy confessed.

            “I see,” the General said, clearly unimpressed.  “And you say you found it during the Lylat Wars?”

            “Yes!” Grippy exclaimed.

            “I see.  So you’ve been filing taxes all wrong for the last… four years?” the hound quirked a brow.

            Grippy’s face went white as a ghost.

            “U-uh… um…”

            “A very grave issue indeed.  Perhaps one that could be resolved if you handed the planet over,” General Pepper replied thoughtfully. “Your base can stay, of course.  I wouldn’t dream of hampering your business, as it provides well enough for the Cornerian people.  But hm.  Your base isn’t covering the entire planet, no?  Perhaps there would be enough room for a CDF satellite?”

            “I… ahem… erm… y-yes, I do… I do believe so!” Grippy exclaimed.

            “Good to know,” the General smiled with savage benevolence. “Then I’ll start sending people over to begin building.  I’ve instructed my assistant to fetch me the papers that will formally declare Grippia as part of the Cornerian conglomerate.  I’ll need you to sign off on those before I can guarantee there will not be a cell for you in the city jail.  There is one available, right, Chief Lane?”

            The collie looked unimpressed by the matters unfolding in front of her.  She crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged. “Yep.  I can think of a few.”

            “Good,” the hound said, looking to Grippy, who was still quivering in his boots.  “It’s a deal, then?”

            “Y-yes!” the toad chimed.

            General Pepper stood up from his desk and wandered over to the frightened president of Corneria Precious Metals, reaching out with an amiable enough hand.  Grippy took it uncertainly.  The General clasped their handshake with his other hand, smiling at the toad in a way that let him know this was his one and only warning. 

            “Then it’s settled,” the hound said politely with a small tail wag. “Good.  I’m sure we’ll be conducting quite a bit of business now that my forces will be neighbors to your base.  I look forward to it.”

            “S-so do I,” Grippy fumbled and though the General knew the toad was lying, he felt too smug to care

Chapter Text

9 ALW; THE REVENANT, SOMEWHERE IN THE LYLAT SYSTEM --

            The glass of the Revenant, their mothership, was cold to the touch, the warmth of the grey tabby’s breath fogging the window just in front of his nose.  He rapped a claw against it to hear the unpleasant noise it made—a light thump and then a high-pitched screech when he dragged his hand down.  How many days had it been since they had last landed somewhere?  Lloyd was not sure—it felt like every day had turned into the same thing lately.  Practice flights on the simulator, doing chores around the Revenant, then maybe jam to some music and game… it was a simple, fun life but damn it, he was bored.  And it did not help in the slightest that his father seemed to enjoy teasing him by flaunting the fact that he was looking for one more capable pilot to fill his newly-made mercenary squadron.

            First it was “you’re too young”.  Then he turned sixteen and he pointed out that he was legally able to get his pilot’s license on the Outreach planets.  Then it was “you’re too inexperienced”—a notion disproven when Lloyd smashed even his father’s rankings on the simulator.  Then it was “I’m not sure you’re up for the responsibility” which was obliterated when Lloyd had started getting up early to help with ship maintenance and had started pushing himself to do even more around the Revenant.

            And then the real problem was brought up.

            “If you have an episode mid-flight, you could get yourself killed.”

            Lloyd had always known that was the argument he was battling against.  But he tried to pretend it did not exist.  Because really, he had no counter for that.  All he could do was grit his teeth and try not to yell about how that didn’t seem fair.  And then his father would send him on another fetch task across the ship—something to keep him busy enough for a while.

            Today was one of those days.  Lloyd was supposed to be running maintenance on their newest addition to the team—an AI robot programmed to help with translation, ship diagnostics, and other menial tasks.  But unlike the other days where this happened, he could not find it in himself to finish his work.  So instead, he stood near one of the Revenant’s large glass windows and pressed his forehead into it, glaring out at the darkness of space with a scowl on his face. 

            Ever since he had been a young kitten, his father had kept him shackled to their headquarters—wherever that had been, often stored out of sight except for the occasional passenger they would take on.  At first, Lloyd had understood it was for his own safety to stay hidden.  But then he started to realize it was less about the dangers of the world and more about… well… him.

            Lloyd could not remember when the episodes had started.  According to his father, he had always had them—strange, pained headaches matched with what he had at first believed to be hallucinations.  Every time he would see a vision, he would walk away knowing things without any rhyme or reason.  Later, he had begun to suspect that they were in fact real somehow.  His father had confirmed the theory later on and Lloyd had been given strict orders to tell no one.  Apparently this was a rare thing—something Lloyd should probably have considered to be a gift but he could not.  Not when it prevented him from being able to leave. 

            “That hardly looks like tuning the robot,” came Cedric’s deep, gravelly voice from behind.  Face still pressed against the window, Lloyd turned his head just enough to side-eye the puma.  His father’s manservant snorted in mild amusement. “Nor does that appear to be anything… productive.”

            “Who cares?” Lloyd said dryly.

            “Your father might,” Cedric remarked.

            “Let ‘em be salty, I don’t care,” Lloyd retorted.

            The puma shook his head with a sigh, crossing his arms over his burly chest. “You have already invoked his ire once, young Master Lloyd, I cannot fathom how this behavior will benefit you.”

            “I’m just tired of being stuck on this ship,” Lloyd said. “And I thought Dad was gonna let me fly one of the starfighters.  Nope.  He says I’m stuck on Revenant duty ‘til the stuff with my headaches goes away.  Annnnnd we’re headed to Zoness.  Can you believe it?  Zoness.  And I’m probably gonna be stuck here.”

            “You know he is not sending his crew to Zoness for leisure,” Cedric pointed out. “Every person will be there for business only.”

            “Yeah, yeah,” Lloyd grumbled. “I just wish I could get to go planetside.  I hear it’s really cool there.  Cities on the ocean.  Crystal clear water.  Big whales the size of Cornerian flagships!  And volcanoes, Cedric.  Mountains that spit fire!”

            Cedric paused with thought.

            “Hear me out, young Master,” the puma began, his tail twitching. “See to that robot and I will speak to your father on letting you out on… excursions.  Monitored, of course.  By yours truly.”

            Lloyd’s tufted ears stuck up with alarm.  “You’d do that for me?”

            “Of course.  It does not benefit you to stay cooped up like this,” Cedric replied with the dip of his head. “There is… much of this world to see.  And you would do well to learn as much as you can during this time of travel.”

            The tabby’s heart leapt with joy, a smile brimming across his features.  Although his father was a stern man, he knew if anyone could bend his opinion on something, it was Cedric.  The two had been inseparable for ages—since they were young, Lloyd thought.  With hope brimming in his eyes, the young tabby began to set about his task.  He wandered a few steps away from the window then glanced back at the puma curiously.

            “Hey Cedric?  Do you think Dad will ever have us settle down somewhere?” the tabby asked.  “I was thinkin’, maybe we could go to Animus sometime.  I know Dad—”

            “No,” Cedric cut him off.  “We will not be going there.”

            The abruptness was striking to Lloyd but he knew better than to comment.  When it came to his father’s homeland, the stories told were vague and sparse.  Lloyd Darkmoon was young but he was starting to grow older and wiser.  And something in the pit of his stomach was telling him that there was more to Animus than what he had been told as a child.  The tabby gave a lazy shrug and Cedric watched him go with a pair of piercing amber eyes.

            “Lloyd.  Another thing,” Cedric said when the young feline was midway down the corridor.  “Your father only wishes to protect you.  You… understand this, right?”

            “I know,” Lloyd sighed, looking up forlornly at the ceiling. “But he worries too much.”

            “He could not stand to lose you,” Cedric replied. “You’re… important.”  A small pause and then he added. “To him, I mean.”

            “I know,” Lloyd repeated, a bit more strained this time.
            “You are young,” Cedric added, as if that somehow made anything better.  “You will understand with time.”

            When Lloyd left Cedric, he did so with the usual broodiness of a budding teenager, his hands shoved into his pockets.  Yet despite his sour mood, he felt it lighten considerably when he made it to the team’s workshop.  When the lift doors opened and Lloyd saw their robot already sitting on the table ready to be tuned, he sighed out the rest of his negative mood and greeted the AI with a wave.  Their robot was W1GH7 (Wight, for simplicity’s sake)—it stood for Warrior One… something, something, Seven.  Honestly, Lloyd couldn’t remember and he had thrown away the manual ages ago.  He just knew how to do the standard upgrading stuff so the feline set about his work.  

            “What’s up, Wight?” Lloyd asked the robot, who turned its square head towards him, beeping joyfully.

            “The ceiling,” the robot answered dutifully and the feline nodded.  Well, he was not wrong.

            “Cool.  I’m gonna give you some program upgrades and tune your joints so you stop having those problems going up the stairs.”

            “Affirmative, Master Darkmoon.”

            The feline opened Wight’s control panel and plugged him into a nearby slot that was connected to one of the Revenant’s computers.  Lloyd slid into the rolling chair dramatically then began running program upgrades on the robot.  As the program was loading, the feline studied Wight carefully, a growing devious glint in his mismatched eyes.

            “Hey, you think Dad will get mad if I install some mods on you?” Lloyd asked.

            “Scenario accepted.  Running probability… running probability… Likelihood of Silas Darkmoon anger is 98%,” Wight responded. 

            “Yeah but,” Lloyd began, “I saw this cool program where I can make you learn dances.”

            Wight stared at him passively and the tabby sighed, throwing his hands up in a shrug.

            “I guess as long as Dad doesn’t find out until after Cedric gets me permission to leave the ship, it can’t hurt… right?”

            Famous last words.

Chapter Text

10 ALW; THE SARGASSO SPACE STATION, METEO BELT --

            The way Sargasso had morphed over the years was like a butterfly.  Once, it had been a pile of scrap metal they had somehow managed to get floating through space.  Then Wolf had bolstered its defenses, making it into a proper hideout for deplorables such as themselves.  Wolf had told Leon from the start that Sargasso was a long-term project; one that he was never sure he would finish.  But from what Leon could see, their home had little more to upgrade.  It sufficed perfectly for its purpose and that was all that Leon really cared about.  As long as Wolf was there to lead them, he cared for little else.

            A mission had taken Leon across the Lylat System to Kew and back—not an easy trip and definitely not a short one, particularly for just the one mercenary.  Unfortunately, Wolf had been diagnosed with a cold and was bedridden with more than a few complaints and Panther had… decided, for some reason, he absolutely had to go to Corneria.  Leon was not entirely sure why that was the case but he told Panther to do his best to be careful and left the ebony cat to his own devices.

            When Leon returned, he had thought nothing was out of the ordinary upon docking his Wolfen.  Sargasso’s lower levels looked the same as they always had—drab and bland, built for function and not beauty.  It was when he ascended via lift that he began to realize something was… different.

            The jazz music was his first clue.  It played a typical elevator song that did not fit Sargasso’s usual fare but Leon was not a man that really cared much about that.  His orange eyes drifted upward at the overhead speakers, nose wrinkling as he took in the jazzy tune.  Mentally, he commented that it was odd but… not unwelcome.  Just odd.

            And then the doors opened.

            There was nothing that could have prepared Leon for what he was about to witness.

            The first floor of Sargasso had been nearly entirely renovated, sporting a lounge-like appearance with several key points of interest.  All of the extra crates and storage had been cleared out.  There were a group of luxurious couches set up around what appeared to be a great hearth—or, rather, an artificial heart simulating the effects of a fire.  A crimson carpet had been placed under the couches, which were adorned with velvet pillows, each gaudily equipped with golden tassels.  Off across the walkway was an area where an android was playing music—classical piano, so peaceful that it felt criminal in a place like this.  A food area had been added—a small one, mostly vending machines.  A glance at one of the branching hallways and Leon saw that there was a sign now displaying what could be located where.  Numbly, the reptile wandered towards it, his heart pounding.

            It sounded silly but Leon feared that he had landed at the wrong space station.

            But those fears were soon assuaged as the central lift doors opened and he saw a few familiar faces stroll out.  Wolf was not among them, of course.  Leon bet he was still in his quarters, suffering from his cold.  Panther walked among the ruffians—the only others Leon could name being Algy and Caiman.  The Venomian stared at them as they laughed merrily.  As if nothing was different.  As if… as if everything were normal.

            “Panther,” Leon Powalski realized as some part of his brain clicked, understanding what must have happened while he was gone.  Of course with Wolf sick and Leon gone, Panther had the run of Sargasso.  And his trip to Corneria… had it been for… all of this?

            When Panther spotted his perturbed wingmate, he waved at him, waltzing over in formal wear that made him look ready for a cocktail party.  Leon blinked at him, still processing what he was seeing. Panther flashed the Venomian a starry smile, clapping him on the back in an amiable way.  Algy and Caiman took one look at Leon’s expression and made themselves scarce.  Good, Leon mused darkly.  At least someone knew how to read the room.

            “Leon!  I am so happy you are back!” Panther beamed. “Was your trip to Kew successful?”

            Nothing about the new look?  Nothing about… anything?  Leon stared at Panther and then wandered over to one of the couches.  He plucked a pillow out from under a bandit sitting next to it, holding it up for Panther to observe between his thumb and forefinger.

            “What is this?” Leon asked.

            “A pillow, Leon,” Panther said obliviously and the Venomian hissed slightly.

            “You are toying with me,” Leon responded icily. “I mean what is this doing here?”

            “Oh.  I bought it,” Panther replied proudly.

            “B-bought…?” Leon blinked. “You bought… all of this?” He scanned the first floor, realizing this was likely not everything that had changed. 

            “Well, yes,” Panther answered as though it were obvious. “I commissioned some interior designers and a few contractors and we spruced the station up a bit.  What do you think?”

            “Panther.  This is a hive of bandits, space pirates, and thugs,” Leon said, shaking the velvet pillow at his face. The tassels jostled for extra effect. “And you bought this?”

            Panther stared at him, very clearly not understanding where the reptile was going with this.

            “Panther,” Leon tried again, lowering the pillow. “This is not a high end Cornerian club.  This is an outlaw hideout.”

            “I don’t get it,” Panther admitted.

            “What do you not get!?” Leon exclaimed.

            “Why does it need to be ugly?” Panther asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “We may be outlaws, Leon, but for spirits’ sake, we can afford some class.”

            Leon inhaled sharply.

            “My worries are not about the aesthetic, Panther,” the reptile began, though quietly admitted he could scarcely think of anything more atrocious than tasseled pillows. “How much did you spend on this?”

            The feline’s smile faltered.

            “Don’t worry about the expenses, Leon, I have it under control.”

            That was exactly what Leon did not want to hear.

            “So what happens when the Cornerians decide they do not like us camping out on their doorstep?” Leon asked. “What about our funds for weaponry?  Ship repairs?  The practicality of this is… Well, there is none.”

            “Look, Leon,” Panther said, putting an arm around the reptile’s shoulders. “I think you need to step back and look at the bigger picture here.”

            “The bigger picture?  What is possibly more important than ensuring our own safety?” Leon scowled.

            “Look at the people here,” Panther said, gesturing with his other hand to some of the passerbys.  Two of them were ex-Venomian military but the third was a dog, clearly roughed up around the edges with a limp in his gait.  All three of them were chatting merrily.  Leon studied the dog’s face and realized he had not seen him before.

            “As time wears on, we take in more people each day.  Bandits, thugs, outlaws—just as you said.  But also more.  Outcasts.  People that society doesn’t want so we take them and give them a place to stay.  Wolf said, as long as people prove to be useful, they can stay, right?” Panther asked him.

            “What’s your point?” Leon side-eyed the feline.

            “These people have gone their whole lives without having things.  Nice things.  So I thought… maybe a bit of decorations here and there… some finery to make this place feel less like a floating chunk of scrapmetal…” Panther began.

            “Admirable,” Leon scowled, removing the cat’s arm from his shoulder. “But Wolf will not be pleased by this.”

            “Oh, he already knows,” Panther said. “Of course, I did commission everything before asking.  He was still sick back then.  But he came around to it.  Eventually.”

            Leon sighed, massaging his snout with a hand.  He set the pillow back down on the couch, remarking to Panther, “I assume you’ve done up more than just this floor?”

            “Yes,” Panther beamed. “It’s all much nicer.  You should see Caiman’s bar now.  It’s…” The feline did a chef’s kiss to emphasize his thoughts on it and Leon sighed again.  At the reptile’s disgruntled look, Panther threw out a casual, “Oh, and I got you and Wolf suits.”

            “Suits,” Leon repeated incredulously.

            “As in…” Panther gestured to his own formal attire and Leon’s carnelian eyes widened.  A smirk played on the feline’s lips. “Surely you wouldn’t want me to return them and miss seeing Wolf in one…?”

            “Stop it,” Leon snapped at him, growing warm under his collar. “If Wolf is fine with this, then I am.  I just know our finances will run tight if we spend too frivolously.  I would advise you to consult the team’s treasurer—me-- before making any more purchases.”

            “Understood,” Panther said with a chuckle and Leon began walking towards the central lift, still feeling a bit warm.  “Where are you going, Leon?”

            “To see Wolf,” the reptile said quickly and the feline’s smile widened.  “And not for that reason, you…” The rest of the Venomian’s sentence devolved into a series of embarrassed grumbles. 

            Panther was left laughing after Leon, who quickly disappeared into the central lift, taking it directly to the team’s quarters.  The lift doors did little to blot out the sound of the piano for some time and Leon listened to it.  As annoyed as he was about Panther going on a massive shopping spree, he did admit there was a quaint pleasantness to the sound of the piano being played.  And the more he thought about it on his ride up, the more he started to enjoy the idea of making Sargasso less of a grim and cold place and more of a…

            A home?

            Leon exhaled sharply.

            What a sentimental thought.

Chapter Text

9 ALW, Krazoa Palace, Sauria --

            It was not often that the tribes of Sauria put aside their differences long enough to hold a moot.  But if the times had told King Tricky anything, it was that enough devastation had come to their planet over the last few years that they could no longer afford to hold grudges.  Times were changing; ever since General Scales’s failed conquest, their small planet had been seeing more traffic from outsiders.  Some of these outsiders had been friendly-- such as the Cornerians.  Others, less so-- like those robotic abominations that had ravaged their temples just weeks prior.  

            The old history-speakers could not say when the last moot had been held.  Occasionally the royal tribes would treatise with each other but never under the brand of a true moot, involving the heads of every of the civilized tribes.  Calling one now felt daunting; the history-speakers would speak of this likely for generations to follow.  History was watching-- history that had passed and history that had yet to pass.  What a weight it was…

            Given that the moot was to involve many parties, they had opted for neutral grounds to host their meeting.  Krazoa Palace sat atop a rocky crest of a mountain on a southern peninsula, and though the journey was long for many, not a single person disputed the location.  The sacredness of the earth there meant any who acted out of violence would be stricken down-- if not by the others of the meeting then by the Krazoa themselves.  It was that reassurance that made him not worried when it came to security.

            But when it came to the moot itself, Tricky found himself nervous.  He was a newly-crowned monarch; his father had taken a near-mortal blow defending Walled City from the aparoids and when he had abdicated to focus on recovery, his queen had stepped down with him, opting instead to elevate her son to the throne.  Tricky wanted to say he felt ready for such a responsibility… but despite his usual cheeky grin, he felt anxious.  Being crowned king was everything he could have hoped for as a child but now that it was here, it was a lot to process.

            Not that he would let them know he was feeling the pressure.  He could not—Sauria had just seen its most devastating attack in recorded history and there were people looking to him for support.  He had to be strong like Fox had taught him.

            The moot would be his first test.  The aparoids had left much devastation in their wake and though the Cornerians promised to come help, they would be delayed.  As he understood it, their planet also suffered heavy losses. Sauria would have to pick itself up on its own for now, despite the destruction and the recent release of the RedEye—an unfortunate side effect during the attack on Walled City.  The EarthWalkers had treated to a sacred temple in their name, but the fact that their city was once again overrun was disheartening to say the least.  Tricky hoped the RedEye were dumb enough to stick around the outskirts of their old prison.  If they left, he shuddered to think what they could do.

            Krazoa Palace cut a dreary figure in the overcast morning.  There was no rain today but the scent of it danced across the air.  The slope leading to the ancient bastion’s entrance stretched before the king and his entourage.  As he ascended it, Tricky felt a heaviness about his chest be replaced with relief.  For all the destruction around their planet, at least Krazoa Palace had remained untouched.  Small blessings, he supposed. Though he did wonder what that really meant.  Had the Krazoa somehow dissuaded the aparoids from attacking here?  Was that why they had been so absent elsewhere during the invasion?  Tricky had questions for the ancient spirits to say the least but the way he wanted to word them was nothing less than treasonous.  Maybe he would try interrogating them later but not in front of his subjects.  Not where doubting ears could hear.

            “My king,” greeted two guards at either sides of the door leading into the palace proper.  They bowed and Tricky passed them by before the weight of that could really hit him.  Maybe he felt so odd about it because he had envisioned this happening in such a different way.  Oh well—no time to dwell further on it.

            “The CloudRunners just arrived,” added one of the guards and Tricky felt his anxiety triple. 

            “Okay,” the king replied, wincing, then realizing that did not sound very regal. “I mean!  Uhhh… u-understood.”  Another wince.  That sounded too submissive for a king.  He had to add something to make it sound like he was in charge. “Uhhh…Very good work!  By the… by the way…” It came out feeble.  If he had a hand, he would have facepalmed.  Instead, he cringed and continued along.

            Ancient walls comprised of Krazoa Palace’s interior, riddled with statues of the deified spirits looking down upon the EarthWalkers.  Their visages were stoic.  Once, Tricky recalled his mother saying they looked that way because they were the embodiment of serenity and wisdom.  But now that he looked at those faces, he saw a callousness about them.  The king looked away from them, fighting a war of emotions.  Indoctrination made it hard to look at the spirits with hate.  But he could not help but wonder why their alleged protectors seemed so feeble of late.

            Passing by a myriad of stained glass and statues, Tricky and his entourage soon found themselves at a set of stairs leading upwards to the palace’s roof.  It was here that the moot would be held, in the light of the sun, where the Krazoa could sit judgment if they so desired.  When they climbed the final set of stairs and the greyed skies became visible, Tricky saw that his group was the last to have arrived.  The others had already gathered and all eyes turned upon the new king when he emerged onto the roof.

            “Typical that the EarthWalkers would see fit to make us wait,” tutted a snide voice.  Tricky turned his head to see that it’s source was the Queen CloudRunner.  She had swapped her sapphire blue robes for a blazing crimson, matching the fire in her tone. “I am only remiss to see that it is not King Albada that joins us.  Was the EarthWalker Army not strong enough to drive off the invasion?”

            Not everyone can fly away from trouble, you know, the king thought venomously.  Though his insult went unsaid, he scowled pointedly at the Queen CloudRunner.

            “My father was injured during the attack.  I am the Earthwalker King now,” Tricky said, unable to resist throwing a haughty tone at his coy rival. “Sorry if I kept anyone waiting.  Are we all here?”

            “The HighTops chose to not send a representative,” a nearby BoneHead spoke up. “They are the same tribe but do not remain a collective.”

            Tricky could not say he was surprised; the HighTops had never been an organized, formal tribe.  They moved where the wind took them.  Every other tribe seemed to have some representation.  He saw Garunda Te standing with his daughter and a guardsman at his flank.  Their party was squeezed between a group of ThornTails and the LightFoot—four of which were carrying their leader on a palanquin. They seemed to be struggling to maintain their posture but their chieftain did not seem to notice—instead, he continued munching loudly on some fruit.  Two ShadowHunters stood slightly away from the rest of the group, decorated in jewelry that Tricky was certain was made of bones.  Keeping an eye on them were a couple of BoneHeads and CloudRunner guards.  Beyond that, everyone else were in clusters—PlateBacks, RockTails, SpikeHands, and more, all crowded together with eager eyes on their EarthWalker King.

            “Other than that, yes, everyone is accounted for,” the BoneHead continued. “As one of the neutral tribes with members designated to serve both of the monarchies, we BoneHeads have taken the mantle of mediator during this moot.  It has been ten generations since a moot has been called and though we of the BoneHead remember it well, we are here to remind all that in order to speak your piece, you must have this rod.”

            The mediator held up the rod in question—a metal and stone scepter that was no doubt crafted by the Krazoa long ago.  It bore intricate designs along its shaft that Tricky theorized could not have been made by any dinosaur tribe.

            “Today we will be discussing restoration efforts,” the BoneHead continued. “We will also be discussing the release of the RedEye tribe from Walled City.  As I understand, this happened during the great invasion and was an unavoidable consequence of—”

            “And what’s this?” hissed a voice from behind the king.  His head turned in time to see a series of silhouettes emerge from the interior of the palace.  As soon as he realized what they were, he felt his blood turn to ice.

            SharpClaw.

            The one in the front walked with a predator’s tension in her limbs, fangs bared in an enraged sneer.  Ebony armor had been fitted over her blue-scaled torso, emblazoned with the sigil of their notorious tribe on the breastplate.  One of her hands carried a spear made of metal, its blade long and forked at the top like a set of twin fangs.  Tricky stomach churned in unease.

            “I don’t recall the SharpClaw ever being counted among the civilized tribes,” snorted the CloudRunner Queen. 

            The blue-scaled SharpClaw sneered at the winged monarch. “You may have denied us membership into your little… coalition, but if we were not fit to be here, would the Krazoa have let us within the palace?”

            Tricky had more than one rebuttal to that but he did admit that the SharpClaw had a point.  Even if the Krazoa had been absent guardians as of late, they would have surely removed the SharpClaw if they were proper intruders.  Especially after the last time the rowdy tribe had showed their ugly mugs on such sacred grounds. 

            “The Krazoa may not have struck you down but that does not mean we have to tolerate your presence here,” the CloudRunner Queen snapped.

            “You do not,” the armor-clad SharpClaw sneered.  “But without our help, how do you plan to corral the wayward RedEye?”

            That question drove a point into the gathering’s weakness.  Of course they had no idea how to combat the new threat.  The RedEye were massive and they had experienced generations of abuse at their hands—rightfully so, from Tricky’s perspective.  If left unchecked, the beasts would roam and devour everything in sight.  Their generational wrath would be a calamity upon the others.

            “What’s your name?” Tricky asked, looking at the leading SharpClaw with suspicion evident across his features.

            It was hard to look at her and not think of what had happened years ago.  The way her people had brutalized his own made his flesh crawl in memory.  No doubt she was old enough to have partaken in Scales’s campaign for power.  But even a young leader such as him could see that she had a different air about her.  There was something keener about her eyes—and that was something he was not sure if he should fear or be impressed by.

            “I am Night,” the SharpClaw said. “Leader of the SharpClaw tribe.”

            “No doubt one of Scales’s favored cronies,” the Queen CloudRunner spat.

            “Scales and his followers were… purged from our ranks,” Night replied. “Unlike our predecessor, I carry no will for conquest.  What we crave is simply a place among the other tribes.  One that has been denied to us in the past.”

            The BoneHead mediator held up his hand.

            “Denied for good reason—the SharpClaw have yet to prove themselves better than base predators,” the mediator said with a scrutinizing glare.

            “That proof comes on this day,” Night replied. “I gift to the coalition the ability to use our Galleon.  It was outfitted to combat even the mightiest foe and carries equipment that could come in handy against the RedEye threat.”

            Murmurs broke out within the crowd.  An alliance with the SharpClaw?  After everything they had done?  Tricky could not fathom it and yet he feared he had to.  Sauria was in disarray after the invasion.  And they were still hurting from Scales’s attempt to take over as well.

            “Joining forces with the SharpClaw?  Pah,” Garunda Te scowled.  “I have not forgotten how you treated my people at the DarkIce Mines.”

            “A clear and transparent trap,” the Queen CloudRunner said with a ‘tsk’.

            “My lady, I mean no offense but if the SharpClaw wished to use the Galleon against the CloudRunners, we would have already done so,” Night said coolly then looked to King Tricky. “I know the CloudRunner forces are all but depleted and the EarthWalkers no different.  You have no choice.”

            “A miracle the invaders from the sky did not kill you all…” the Queen CloudRunner grumbled at the azure-scaled SharpClaw. “And most auspicious for you.”

            Night’s eyes narrowed at this but she made no comment in reply.

            “We cannot be considering this,” griped a ThornTail representative from the crowd. “They subjugated our Hollow!  They snuffed out our sacred beacons.”

            “They enslaved my people!” Belina Te chimed in.

            “General Scales was responsible for the death of our King!” a CloudRunner guard added angrily.

            “And yet…” Tricky said, voice quiet and sour. “She has a point.”

            His statement filled their place of meeting with lethal silence.

            “Our armies were basically wiped out in the invasion.  We can’t catch the RedEye by ourselves.  And our friends from Corneria are busy with their own problems.  We can’t rely on Fox to come save us every time,” Tricky spoke up, regret deep in his voice. “I don’t like it.  But I’m willing to accept it.”

            “If your father could hear you right now—” Garunda Te began in his thunderous tone.

            “He’d say the same thing,” Tricky retorted, stomping a foot. “We have to look forward.  If this is how we get the RedEye back into Walled City, then that’s just what we’re gonna have to do!”

            He looked at Night carefully.

            “The EarthWalker accept!  I declare this as King!”

            “You know not what you are talking about!” the Queen CloudRunner snapped at Tricky.

            “When the RedEye come to your fortress, feel free to disagree with me,” Tricky shot back. “I’m tired of seeing my tribe hurting.”

            “If the King EarthWalker say all is fine, then I too will say all is fine with dis…” spoke up an accented voice from the back.  The Chief LightFoot held up his hand, covering his mouth with the other to stifle a yawn. “I see we also forget the rules of moot.  Ah well.  LightFoot tribe is wanting to stop the fighting.  We are tired and there is much to be done.”

            “The ThornTail will agree if the King EarthWalker agrees,” a ThornTail spoke up.

            “The RockTails as well,” said a representative of that tribe. “The EarthWalkers have not led us astray yet!”

            “Here, here!” a SpikeHand agreed.

            “The SnowHorn will not condone this,” Garunda Te grumbled.  “Not without a test.  I propose we use the escaped RedEye as a trial for the SharpClaw.  If they prove willing to work with us, then they are accepted.  And not a moment sooner!”

            “Agreed,” the Queen CloudRunner said. “As loathe as I am to admit it… She is right about our forces.”

             “Oh for the days in which the Rod of Speaking was honored,” remarked the mediator, scowling at the crowd.  “Fine, then.  Any objections to the honorable Garunda Te’s proposal?”

            “Nope,” Tricky said at once—a sentiment echoed throughout the crowd.

            “Then it is decided!” the BoneHead declared, gently thwacking the rod’s crest onto the ground. “The SharpClaw will aid us in recapturing the RedEye.  And if we are successful, they will become members of our alliance and swear off their hostile ways.”

            “Thank you.  I swear you will not regret this,” Night said with the dip of her head.

            There was a weight about that moment that hit him.  Looking at the unease in the crowd and the burning fire in Night’s eyes, Tricky felt his stomach churn with boiling uncertainty.  Was this a mistake, he wondered out of fear.  Or would this be their salvation in the end?  He side-eyed the others, watching the way they looked at him.  There was hope in some of them.  Trepidation in others.  Was this the weight of kinghood?  Funny, as a child, he had thought it would be easier.  And now he stood there wondering if he had taken them down a path that would doom them all.

Chapter Text

9 ALW; The Great Fox, Somewhere in the Lylat System --

            There was almost no such thing as a quiet night on the Great Fox but that particular night was the rare exception.  Fox had gone to bed early, troubled from lack of sleep the night before, and Krystal was very much aware that Slippy was having a game night with Lucy.  Some form of fantasy adventure, she presumed, from the occasional word she would pick up from his room down the metal corridor. 

            Late nights were Krystal’s favorite—they always had been, ever since she was a kit.  Her home had been near a mountain range, frosted and cold in all parts of the year.  Every so often, her father would take her and her sisters up the mountainside trail, worn steps that had seen countless travelers over eons.  They would look at the stars until the chill became too much even for their thick fur.  And then they would descend.  The stars had seemed brighter on Cerinia than they did while roaming about the Lylat System in the Great Fox.  But she still kept her habits of staying up too late and being wistful and pensive.

            The Star Fox team had just ventured from Sauria a few days prior.  No mission, just a pleasant stop-in to see Tricky and properly show the other team some of the more beautiful sights on the planet.  She had been grateful to return to the Outreach Ring, the feeling of magic everywhere familiar to her and Sauria’s potent energies no exception.  After gathering some gems to help power her staff, Krystal had harvested some leaves off the Dumbledang trees and had decided to try to steep them in water and brew tea.  She had decided to try making the tea tonight and soon enough, a warm cup sat in her hands.  Coupled with the warmth of her overly large, pink sweater, she felt snug and comfy.

            A single sip and she mused over the taste of her improvised tea.  Not bad but a pinch of honey helped a ton.  There was an earthy taste to it that reminded her of herbs that her mother had grown in the garden.  Krystal sipped it again and nodded in approval.

            She sensed him before he entered the kitchen.  The vixen’s vivid teal eyes flashed in Falco’s direction, palms still warmed by the cup nestled in between her hands.  It was not late in the night but she had expected Falco to have been done with socializing for the day.  The avian certainly looked ready for sleep, donned in a black tank top and loose grey sweatpants.  He walked in, stretched and the vixen’s keen ears heard the distinct crack of his spine.  Falco sighed out some relief then glanced her direction, a sly smirk forming on his face.

            “Tea, huh?” he asked her.

            “From the Dumbledang trees.  Would you like a cup?” Krystal asked.

            “Nah, I’ll pass.  I’m not so sure I trust eating anything from that planet,” Falco retorted.

            Krystal giggled at him. “And why’s that?”

            “Look, I don’t know, something about that place is a little out there even for me.  Their money is literally bugs, Krystal,” Falco replied then wandered over to the fridge.  He pulled out a jug of chocolate milk and poured himself a glass. “Though I guess visiting was pretty fun.  I gotta say, we should take more team vacations more often.  It’s been too long since we got to kick back and chill.”

            “I agree,” Krystal nodded.  “It seems like we have just been busier and busier each week.  Getting to relax was quite welcome.  I know Fox could use a break.”

            “Yeah,” Falco agreed. “For someone who’s so happy-go-lucky most of the time, he really knows how to stress.  You shoulda seen him a few years ago.  I caught him snoozin’ as he was trying to figure out our bills.”

            “Sounds like Fox,” Krystal replied with a small smirk.

            “You and him are pretty close these days,” Falco remarked and Krystal felt her cheeks warm considerable under her azure fur.  The avian took a drink, side-eyeing the vixen keenly.  She was transparent and they both knew it.  Falco smiled, a small bittersweet chuckle on his breath.  “I could see it all over his face when you came on board the Great Fox for the first time.  Smitten as hell with that doofy look on his face.”

            It was spoken in a way that made Krystal feel as though there was a personal flair to that statement.  She paused, looking down into the dark depths of her tea for a moment.  Emotions frothed around Falco like churning, sea foam waters.  She blotted it out.  It was better this way.  It was more appropriate this way.

            “He did seem quite taken with me at first,” Krystal admitted. “I wish I had been less… abrasive towards him at the start of things.  But I suppose it all turned out well enough in the end.”

            “Nah, maybe he needed it.  The guy could use a reality check every now and then,” Falco replied.  “You know, I wasn’t gonna offer this ‘cause I don’t like to put my beak where it doesn’t belong but… if you ever need any advice for dealin’ with him, I’m your bird.”

            “Noted and appreciated, Falco,” Krystal said.  “I’m sure you’re a trove of wisdom.”

            “I might know a thing or two about Fox McCloud,” Falco remarked.

            “Only a thing or two?” Krystal teased and the avian smirked at her.

            “Look when it comes to Fox, he’s somehow the simplest guy and the most complex,” Falco said. “But maybe we’re all a little bit like that around here.  Just remember.  If he gets to a point where he keeps trying to push you away, pull harder.  I made that mistake once.  Almost cost me my spot on the team, I think.”

            “Falco, he’d never kick you permanently.  I don’t think he’d do that to any of us,” Krystal snorted and sipped her tea thoughtfully. “Not unless something drastic happened.”

            “Did I ever tell you about the time he and I fought?  Honest-to-stars fought?” Falco asked.

            “No…” Krystal said, lowering her mug in intrigue.

            “Well, it was just a misunderstanding in the end.  But yeah, it happened.  We fought in our Arwings over Titania.  And… stuff happened.  That’s how I left in the first place,” Falco replied.  “Glad to be back though.  Was kinda lonely going solo.  But maybe I needed the quiet to clear my head.”

            “You showed up right on time,” Krystal remarked with a sly smile. “From what I hear, at least.”

            “Ha!  Imagine my surprise when I saw Andross,” Falco said. “Dude just wouldn’t stay dead, I guess.  But that’s all in the past now.  I did mean what I said earlier, Krys.  About if you ever needed advice.”

            “I know you did,” Krystal nodded.  “And… no.  I didn’t go poking around your head.  I could just tell.”

            “Well, good,” Falco replied. “I’d hate for someone else to make the same mistakes I did.  Once upon a time.”

            A small bit of wistfulness fled his voice, spilling into the air.  She drank her tea some more then set the mug aside.  Her teal eyes watched him, measuring his expression as he finished his chocolate milk and put the glass into the sink.  He paused for a moment, reflective, then seemed to discard the thought quickly, carrying on towards the door.

            “I do appreciate it, Falco.  Really,” Krystal said to his retreating figure.

            “You’ll appreciate it more when he pisses you off and you gotta vent to someone,” Falco said over his shoulder, winking at her.

            She laughed. “You’ll be the first I turn to.  Promise.”

            “You know, I’m glad you joined the team,” Falco remarked as he stepped into the hall. “I was worried about how the team dynamic would shift but… Turns out I didn’t need to worry at all.  You’re a good fit, Krys.”  A tiny hesitation and he added. “For Fox and for the team.”

            Curiosity bade her reach out to his thoughts with a tentative invisible hand.  She did not read them, granting him that privacy.  But she neared them close enough to feel their emotions and how they radiated from him.  She had feared her joining the team as an intrusion.  Falco and Fox had clearly been close before she had been in the picture.  And though Falco’s words were lovely, she feared they had been said hollowly. 

            But there was a warmth from his thoughts that pressed through to her mind.  Warm as the sun in summer, emanating with the purity of a bell’s ring and earnest joy.  He was being genuine.  Her chest swelled with happiness, parts of his emotions lingering in her heart and mind.  His footsteps receded into the Great Fox and Krystal felt her shoulders lax with a contented sigh.  Having a home, having a family was something she had never thought possible.  Not after Cerinia.  But now that it was here, in her grasp, she knew she could never let it go.  The vixen returned to her tea, finishing it off with a few more sips.  The mug clanked softly against the counter when she set it back down.  Krystal smiled.  If this was all a dream, she never wanted to wake up.

Chapter Text

1 ALW; the Nighthowl, The Outreach Ring --

            The Nighthowl cut a path through the depths of the Lylat System’s fringes like a shark through the azure of the ocean.  There was something about the dead silence that made Andrew realize the vastness of the universe as he stared out the window.  Distant stars glinted at him and the gaps between them felt larger than what he was used to, as if the pitch black of space itself was gradually consuming all it could.  Andrew’s hands hung in the pockets of his jacket, a hoodie that was just a bit too big for his lanky body.  It was cold in the Nighthowl but mostly because running the heater was costly.  Wolf did not like spending resources they did not have to.  It was hard getting work after the Lylat Wars.  Everyone knew them as the team that got their tails handed to them by Fox McCloud.  It wasn’t inaccurate, either. 

            But Star Wolf’s tarnished reputation was not why Andrew felt particularly off that day.  It had been a steady build over the course of the last week, like a snowball gradually being pushed across a field.  Andrew could not at first put his finger on it until he checked the date and realized that it had been a year since his uncle’s death.  A year since their flight from Venom and everything that had transpired after.  It left him with an unusual melancholy.  On a normal day, he would have ignored such feelings by engrossing himself in a video game but that didn’t seem particularly appealing to him either.  He did not understand why.  And so he stalked the corridors of the Nighthowl until he had come across the hall with the windows facing out into open space. 

            “Why so blue?” a nasally voice inquired, the question echoed by an awful slurping noise.  Andrew took a gander back over his shoulder at where Pigma was leaned against the wall.  Between his hands rested a juice pouch and he was sucking away it.  The noise indicated it was clearly empty but the swine kept trying anyways.  Andrew scrunched up his nose and looked back outside, at space.

            “Nothing,” Andrew replied and the pig kept on his racket until the simian’s final nerve was grinded into dust.  He turned and shot a glare at the swine.  “Can’t you do that someplace else!?  Geesh!”

            “Why ya broodin’?” Pigma asked with a cheeky grin, lowering the juice pouch from his mouth.

            “Dunno,” Andrew answered.  It was a lie and Pigma’s prying gaze called him on it.  Andrew scowled and crossed his arms.  “Look, I guess I just thought things would be different by now.”

            “Different how?” Pigma asked, opening his mouth to suck on the straw once more before remembering the pouch was empty.  He tossed it over his shoulder at a trash can nearby.  It dinged off the rim and landed on the ground.  Pigma did not bother to pick it back up.

            “It’s been a year since…” Andrew began.  “Well, everything.  I thought we’d have a better plan by now.”

            “What’s a better plan than trying to get money?” Pigma asked.

            “Is this all that life’s gonna be?” Andrew asked.  “Jumping from place to place with the CA on our tails half the time?  Never able to stay put for more than a few days?”

            “Yup.”

            “Gahhhh!” Andrew snarled, fist hitting the nearby wall.  “I hate it!”

            “Then leave,” Pigma said innocuously and the simian looked at him aghast.  “I mean, what’s stoppin’ ya?”

            “I don’t…” Andrew turned away from him.  “I don’t know.  Maybe I’m scared.”

            “Change is scary,” Pigma nodded sagely, wandering over to the lanky ape and clapping him amiably on the back.  “Don’t worry though.  It doesn’t get any easier.”

            “How the hell is that supposed to make me feel better!?” Andrew sputtered.

            “It’s comfortin’!” Pigma insisted.  “Knowin’ that it’s all big and bad and scary to dip ya wittle toesies outside of what’s comfy.  And I don’t mean fer you, I mean fer everyone.”

            Andrew’s lip curled in disdain and the swine carried on.

            “Look.  Everyone’s got choices in their lives.  Yours… happens to be a bit on the wild side.  What, wantin’ to resurrect your old uncle’s empire and all that shit,” Pigma said.  “I assume that’s what this is about.”

            “Yeah,” Andrew sighed.

            “Heh, look… ya can either do it or don’t,” Pigma shrugged.  “Sometimes giving the status quo a little shake is what’s needed.  Take it from me.  Stagnancy is a killer.”

            “What would you do?” Andrew asked Pigma.

            “Whatever I wanted,” Pigma said, sticking his pinkie finger into one of his flappy ears as if to clean it out.  “But inna practical sense.”

            “Practical sense?” Andrew asked.

            “Yeh,” Pigma replied.  “Look, the world is an entropic mess but that don’t mean the entropy don’t got rules.”

            “That doesn’t even make sense,” Andrew huffed.

            “Heh, okay, okay, lemme frame it like this,” Pigma said, pulling a glob of earwax from his ear and flicking it to the ground.  “If ya were gonna leave right now, what would ya do?  Where would ya go?”

            “I…” Andrew began then swallowed, realizing the swine had a point.  Where would he go?  Back to Venom?  That place was totaled at this point.  No one would be left if they had a brain between their ears.  Returning to Corneria was nothing short of a death sentence either.  Other than that, Andrew had no clue where he could go.

            “See?” Pigma grinned.  “Look.  Leavin’ now?  Ya’d get yerself killed, no doubt about it.  Barely any credits to yer name and still wet behind the ears.  Ain’t no way someone like that is gonna carry on Andross’s legacy.  But a few years learning yer way around the Lylat System?  Without ol’ Uncle Andross to make sure you’re not flyin’ too close to Solar or however the sayin’ goes?  That’s what’ll make ya into someone that can maybe give the finger to ol’ General Pepper.”

            Andrew’s face fell.  That could take years, he told himself, vexed at the notion of wasting so much time.  But… would it be a waste?  Would it really be a waste if he was learning?

            “Remember,” Pigma added, leaning in with a wink.  “Andross put ya on this team fer a reason.  And between you an’ me, I think it was so ya’d learn something.  Just bide your time.  Take in what ya can.  And when the time is ripe to go, then let yer little birdie wings flippity-flap out the nest.  Hopefully ya don’t splat on the ground.”

            It felt wrong to continue letting time pass but Andrew supposed that was the only option he had.  With a heavy sigh, the simian glanced Pigma over, taking in his toothy grin and the gleam about his pale eyes.  It was hard to take the swine seriously after all the years he had known him.  But every so often, Pigma’s usual sleaze was interrupted by a fleck of intelligence.  This was one of those rare moments.  It reminded Andrew of the conniving rat his wingmate was. 

            “ ‘Stagnancy’s a killer’, huh?” Andrew remarked.  “Is that why you betrayed James McCloud?”

            The swine’s smile faltered for a split second.  Just long enough for Andrew to notice it.  He clapped the simian on the back again, a haggard cough-laugh in his throat.  And then he said, “Nah, nah… that’s a long story.  And I wouldn’t wanna burden yer already troubled mind with it.  Just know that… well, the papers always paint heroes into better people than they were and villains into worse people than they are.”

            There was a deviousness about his tone that made Andrew’s fur prickle but the simian said nothing as Pigma began to toddle away.  The swine said one final thing over his shoulder.

            “Just remember, kiddo.  Remember that anything ya live through is a life lesson.”

            Andrew watched him depart down the hall towards the lounge, listening to his footsteps until they faded.  His gaze returned to the window outside, feeling perhaps marginally better than he had before.

Chapter Text

Haha, calm down, Lucy… you got this.

That was what she told herself when she looked in the mirror.  Dressed in a deep azure suit jacket with a white undershirt on and a pencil skirt, she did not recognize herself.  This did not feel like Lucille Hare from Corneria City, genius whizz kid and captain of the robotics team in college.  This felt like… a stranger.  Her vibrant pink eyes traced the reflection of her visage.  She drank in the way life had aged her.  And defiantly, she lifted her chin, stiffening her jaw as if she could glare her way through her uncertainties.  With the sag of her shoulders, she realized it had not helped.  She felt like a faker in those fancy clothes.  Like she did not deserve to be there.

Move to Fichina, they said.  It’ll be fun, they said.

‘They’ had been nobody.  Just some thoughts in her head telling her to do what she always did best.  And that was run.  If her problems were across the Lylat System, they could not affect her.  That was what she thought when she had decided to become a college professor.  South Borealis University had an opening for an astrophysicist teacher.  The cold clime did not appeal to her.  The distance from Corneria did.  It made her forget about how lonely one could feel in the most populated city in the galaxy.

She adjusted her collar, ignoring the brewing fear in her eyes and watching it swell like a tsunami.  Hard choices were easy to make when one was angry or upset.  At least, they had always been easy for her.  But Lucy Hare had always followed her instincts.  That was… the only advice she thought her father had ever given her.  It was the only piece of advice from him she could remember, at the least.

Lucy wanted to laugh.

It was like he was dead but he wasn’t.  Her old pops was busy surfing the stars like they were an ocean.  Who knew where he was at that present moment?  Probably off saving another planet with Fox, Slippy, and that bird guy Fox had decided to take instead of her.  Just thinking of them stung her heart still.  She told herself to get over it.  It had been years since the Lylat Wars.  Fox told her not to come with him.  And so she had forged her own path.  And that led… here.  To Borealis, on the cold, merciless planet of Fichina.

Being an astrophysicist isn’t as glamorous as a modern day hero, but someone has to teach the next generation, I suppose.

She tore herself away from the mirror and looked at the clock.  It was about time to leave so she stepped out of the bathroom.  Her briefcase was grabbed near the door—prepacked from the day before.  Lucy had always been the type to prepare well in advance.  She slipped on her coat, fished her keys out from her pocket, then left her apartment.

Her heels clicked on the tile as she walked down the hall towards the elevator.  First day at the new job and she felt herself surrounded by nostalgia.  Not fear of mucking up her first lesson.  Nostalgia.  And that bothered her.  She hated how her mind seemed to always drag her back to the things she hated.  But Lucy told herself that it would all change soon.  She would have too many papers to grade to dwell upon how she felt like she was living a life that did not feel like it belonged to her.  Busyness combated idle, sad minds.

She made it to the elevator and her phone buzzed on the ride down.  Lucy pulled it out and saw a single unread text message.  It was from her father and she winced slightly, lamenting over the ill timing.  She did not hate him.  But sometimes, things were strained.  When her mother had first fallen sick, he had decided to chase after James McCloud and his grandiose plans of being the best mercenary there was.  Lucy supposed, in his own way, that was her dad’s way of running.  Maybe she was more like him than she thought…

A few buttons later and the text was opened.

PH: Hey, hon!  Good luck on your first day!  I know you’ll do great!

She was surprised he remembered what today was.  After all, wasn’t he so focused on his career as a pilot?  Lucy went to reply but the elevator dinged and she quickly stepped out and into the lobby of her apartment complex.  She walked towards the door, briefcase in one hand, phone in the other.  When she made it to her car in the parking lot, she texted him back.

LH: Thanks, Daddy!  Hope you’re doing good. 

The heart emoji was added for effect.  She sighed, a lightness in her chest that he had remembered.  But a sadness soon overtook it as she looked overhead.

Fichinan cities were often built under domes, which protected the people from the planet’s wild, cold temperatures.  The cities themselves were heated via a system that ran underground.  It made it easier for people to emigrate to the ice planet, especially reptiles and amphibians, who were not warm-blooded.

But still, the sight of a dome overhead was alien to her, reminding her how far from home she was.  It was daunting and as much of a spitfire as Lucille Hare was… she felt fear in that moment.  Yet she did not let it consume her, letting it pierce into her heart for a few long seconds before resolving to dust off her car and hit the road.  It was a short commute to the college campus but she did not want to run late on her first day.  First impressions were everything and she knew that she had to give it her all.  The new job… the new home… it was all scary.  But she reminded herself of what she left behind and she was grateful that she had given herself the opportunity to move on.

Fox having chosen someone else to be a part of his team hurt.  Feeling left behind still… hurt.  But she refused to let that bring her down.  She was Lucille Hare, damn it, and she would forge onward.  This was but the first step.

She slid into the driver’s seat of her car and caught a sight of herself in the rearview mirror.  There was an adamant glint in her eyes and she nodded, expelling a long exhale through her nostrils.

All right, Lucy!  You got this!