The will to live is both the strongest and most irrational emotion that any living being is capable of manifesting, in some cases even stronger than the body's own ability to sustain life. Even when presented with the most overwhelming adversity one could imagine, one that would result in certain death, the body's will to live still couldn't be completely snuffed out. It can manifest hope out of nothing, possibilities where none were before simply because accepting death as an option is inconceivable to it. For most this didn't amount to much, life was a given and they'd go through it never encountering something that would dare contest that. But… In particular lines of work… Learning to harness this bond was mandatory for survival. The more you strained and tested it, the more you learned the true extent of your limits. Here, akin to a flower growing between the lines in the pavement in a bustling metropolis, a more material life sprang to be in a place it had no business being. This was one such individual who'd tested it a lot.
An unhealthy flurry of coughs laced with spatterings of blood signified his awakening as, against all odds, Wolf O'Donnell's consciousness sparked back into existence in his lifeless body. While they never properly conveyed the amount of pain and suffering he had to go through to get there, there were truths to be found in the campfire tales told of him being unkillable. Though, sometimes he wished that weren't the case. Having just finished crawling out of hell being thrust into a new one wasn't exactly ideal and immediately as the grey dog awoke his senses were overwhelmed with a mix of pain and confusion. He lunged forwards in his chair repeatedly as the uncontrollable coughing fit tried to force its way out between dry, smoky breaths. Whatever he'd gone through already, there was clearly much further left to go.
It didn't help with Wolf's confusion when he realized he couldn't see either. His single-eyed vision was blurry; surrounded by hazy, suffocating air that stank of sulfur and assaulted by flashing red emergency lights. A deafening ring in his ears drowned out almost everything, everything except the broken alarm useless blaring at him over and over again. Something had to stop. In the midst of his coughing fit he flailed an arm towards the source of the sound and ended up putting his fist through some electronics which, brutish as it may be, at least worked to silence it. Eventually his lungs decided that he'd had enough and allowed him to catch as good of a breath as was possible considering the circumstances, letting him fall back against the headrest and finally start to take in his surroundings. Wolf's shell-shocked memory failed him as he tried to quickly compartmentalize what was going on, in spite of being in the familiar seat of his Wolfen's cockpit everything seemed foreign. He had no idea how he got here nor how long he'd been here for; the only things that were obvious were the sharp, gunshot-like pain in his chest and the fact that something had gone critically awry.
The buttons and toggles adorning the control panel in front of the pilot's seat were smeared with still-wet blood, that's not to mention the ones directly in the middle that were just completely obliterated. Their plastic keycaps were smashed into pieces and a few chunks of white/grey fur were stuck to them. Considering the throbbing in his skull and onset confusion, Wolf was able to put one and one together to conclude that those buttons were probably destroyed by his head. A quick touch of a finger to his forehead was rewarded with a nerve-shattering sting, all but confirming his assessment. "…Shit…" He rasped out as he looked at his finger pad, now decorated with his own blood. An accident of this severity probably could have been avoided if he were following protocol but Wolf was far too stubborn to ever wear his seatbelt. Or wear any safety gear for that matter.
Using the same finger as before he traced the pattern of blood that was traveling down through his fur, just by feel alone he could tell this was bad. The left side of his muzzle was matted and damp all the way through, the sickening warmth the accompanied it was uncomfortable to say the least. It went through his neckfur and was starting to stain the pilot's uniform next, he could feel his shirt sticking to his chest. It felt like so much had come out that it was a wonder he'd even woken up at all. But Wolf's resolve was too strong to let something like this get the better of him, it didn't scare him so much as it did annoy. Being thick-headed came with its benefits sometimes.
The stubborn canine did his best to gather his nerve. This looked dire from every angle but he wasn't one to give up easily, if there was even a sliver of hope somewhere he'd pry it open into a doorway. So, trying to think through the pain for now, he began to plot how he was going to make sure this metal prison didn't become his coffin. Death might be an inevitability but at the very least he knew he wasn't going to let that happen trapped here like a pathetic runt. Looking past the overstimulation he mentally compiled what he saw to be facts. One; he was injured, possibly in more ways than one, and losing a lot of blood on top of that. Two; he was in his own cockpit. And three; the canopy glass overhead was unusually blacked out, likely with something weighing it down from the outside. But maybe it would still…
Wolf started frantically wiping the blood off of the control panel so that he could read the labels again, most of it just ended up smearing around. Either way, he kept up until he found the seldom-used button that read "emergency cockpit ejection", crossed his fingers and then jammed his thumb into it. Maybe, just this once, life would cut him some slack and this would work like it was supposed to… And to his surprise that wish appeared to be granted. A hissing noise rushed from the lid's seal as the depressurization began; suddenly everything was looking a bit clearer as the smoke-filled air that he'd been breathing was rushed out of the ship and replaced by fresher air from the outside. After the first step was finished it was time for the hydraulics to kick into gear and from the sound of things they really didn't want to. Strained to their max they squealed loudly as they tried their hardest to pull the canopy up with whatever was adding resistance from above. Wolf watched from his chair, clutching at the pain that seemed to be all over his body as the rumbling glass started to move in front of him. A gap in the seal formed and very gradually creeped wider, allowing a much-needed ray of daylight to break through for one teasing moment.
But as was life for a Star Wolf member, nothing was ever quite as easy as it should be. After just two inches or so of clearance had grown the hydraulic system screeched to a sudden halt and lingered there for what seemed like ages. Wolf looked on in anticipation, rooting it on in his mind. He needed this to work, because if it didn't… There was a train of thought there but without warning it was interrupted with a loud, explosive 'bang'. The hydraulics gave up and slammed shut all over again with a force strong enough to shake loose some whatever was on top. All around the ship the sounds of stone and rubble plinking off of metal rained down.
"GodDAMNIT." Wolf burst out with a punch to the flight stick. He hadn't realized how dry and raspy his throat was until just now too, a mix of dehydration and smoke inhalation had left his mouth a wreck. But not one to leave things up to fate, the tired canine immediately stood to the task of taking things into his own hands. He leaned upright in his seat and put both paws on the inside of the cockpit lid, testing its resistance with a few gentle pushes. Maybe this would work. Well, it had to. The cockpit was the only way out after all. Wolf moved to rise from his chair intent on applying a bit of extra force, but the second his core muscles tensed to help him stand the piercing pain he'd been debilitated by moments before came rocketing back through him, sending him tumbling back down on his tail. An uncharacteristic whimper snuck out from between his lips, almost like a higher power was reminding the hurt captain to stay humble. Everybody has their limits.
But in the face of his own mortality, there wasn't a chance that Wolf was about to let something as trivial as pain hold him back. So he gritted through it and took a mental step back to recompile his thoughts, intent on concluding all of the different ways this could end. It's not like there were that many; escape by his own volition, which was looking less and less likely by the second – be discovered and rescued by a third party, which was also pretty unlikely – or… Bleed out slowly like a stuck pig, trapped in his own pen. While his ego was normally too big to resort to asking others for this kind of help, it was the only of the three that he wasn't trying yet. If there was ever time for a distress signal it was probably now.
Turning his head to look at it, the single-screened communicator facing the pilot's seat had a large spiderweb-shaped crack on the surface now that wasn't there before. This didn't look very promising. But you could never know until you tried, so Wolf tapped the power button with his index-claw anyways. To no surprise it didn't turn on, no response from the tuning dials either. Not even empty static. Even more disappointingly the handheld communicator kept in his pocket didn't fare much better; in fact when he reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve it, it came out in multiple pieces. At least there was somewhat of a golden lining here – Wolf could at least find a bit of reprieve in the knowledge that he wasn't going to die looking like a coward, in the midst of begging somebody else for help. Leave that to the filthy Cornerian curs.
Hopes dashed but spirit still alive, Wolf started rummaging around the pilot compartment desperate to unearth something that might buy his way out. There were some emergency supplies kept in the storage area behind the cockpit chair but it'd been a while since he'd properly had it indexed so his memory of its contents was hindered. That was a decision he was regretting now. One way or another there had to be something useful; maybe a blasting cap to blow the lid open, or even just a simply goddamn crowbar. With his limited stock those desires would prove unfulfilled, but there were some things of value still. Emergency food/water rations, his weaponry, flares and a medical kit. He took the kit into his lap and for the first time since this whole ordeal started, felt some degree of relief.
It wasn't much to look at, but medical supplies owned by an elite mercenary like Wolf O'Donnell were substantially different than a Cornerian military counterpart's. The outside was mostly the same, just a red pouch that unzipped to reveal a few large pockets full of sorted goods. Almost everything was going to be useful here and the captain thumbed through it like a kid at a candy store. The first to go down was the baggie full of painkillers, prescription and otherwise, swallowed dry like it were a dog's second-nature. Next came a thick roll of bandage tape and gauze and last… Last was the thing he'd almost forgotten about owning entirely. A special package he'd picked up many years ago which had just sat here on the off-chance that it might be needed one day. Well, that day was today. Wolf took it into his paw, an unlabeled white autoinjector syringe with a capped needle, and set it aside for now. That could be for later, the torrent of blood from his head gash would need tending to first.
Bandage tape in maw and gauze in hand the determined canine reached up to his fresh wound and felt around at its size with a finger-pad. Maybe it was for the best that he couldn't see the thing because from touch alone it was definitely more grievous than initially thought. From what he could tell it was right in the middle of his forehead and about the size of his full index finger, angled downwards enough to travel from above his right eyebrow to below the left, hence why the blood was coating the left side of his face. No way something like this was going to heal naturally, stitches would be mandatory but lacking the skill to do that with no vision on it, taping it up would have to do until he found some Venomians again. Or a mirror if he were feeling tough enough.
Wolf licked the fresh blood off of his finger before using both paws to pack the wound with gauze, pressing it in place as he started to wrap the bandage around his head. The patch-up job was anchored in place using his ear, alternating between wrapping above and below it. There wasn't enough time to properly sterilize or use antiseptic either, but the problem of potential infection would be for tomorrow's Wolf. Today's had to do whatever it took to escape. What remained of the roll was cut with a sharp claw and tossed back into the bag.
At least the easy part was done now, he was still bleeding but hopefully the gauze would cause it to clot up soon. Wolf grimaced as he turned his attention back towards the autoinjector he'd put aside moments before. There was the hard part. He took it into his palm and turned it over a couple times, looking it over as best he could in this miserable red lighting to see if there were any obvious cracks in the glass. It looked safe enough, outside of the possibility that it had expired while sitting under this seat for the last few years. But there was no way to tell and in the midst of his fight-or-flight response, he didn't really care anymore either. The cockpit was gradually filling back up with smoke and the claustrophobia was beginning to sink in, he'd be dead one way or another. Internally counting to three to prepare himself, Wolf bit the cap off at the third count and jabbed the needle end straight into his thigh muscle.
Using epinephrine in this kind of emergency was never something a Cornerian would do, not only was it unreliable but in most cases, it was fatal too. But nonetheless the few success stories that came from its use kept it alive as a seldom-discussed trick among mercenaries in the underbelly of the Venomian piloting scene. The claim was that it could take you beyond the body's natural limits for physical punishment, give the user an extra 'boost' that would allow them to ignore whatever pain they felt and keep going even when they shouldn't. Its use wasn't widespread because outside of fringe situations, most times it would give a vulnerable heart immediate cardiac arrest instead. Wolf had never personally recommended it to anybody, nor had he even talked about it with his crew, believing that it was pointless. But this situation was dire enough that even the incredibly stupid idea of injecting an old bootlegged syringe full of a high dose of chemicals seemed like a good one.
To Wolf's surprise it did its job too, well… The first part of it at least. As soon as it was nestled firmly into his dense thigh muscle the plunger pushed downwards, forcing the serum out of the barrel and into his mangled body. To say it was immensely painful was an understatement, his maw was agape as he panted out his suffering and stared down at it. Having such a large quantity of something sent straight into the muscle tissue like that was intense and almost immediate was the worry that something had gone wrong. But… As he watched and waited, toes curled in his boots in pain, eventually that subsided. It subsided and was replaced by a warm tingle, one that was almost more concerning than the last phase was. But it didn't stop there. Slowly the sensation rooted into him and started to grow upwards through his leg, creeping into the other parts of his body. Now the heat was getting uncomfortable.
Wolf could feel his heart beat climbing as his pulse sped up, some kind of power was definitely brewing and despite having initiated it he wasn't quite so sure if it was welcome or not. It crawled up his spine and reached out to the tips of each nerve ending, causing them to buzz with a numbing sensation that was similar to the one felt when a limb falls asleep. Except this was all over. Legs, arms, torso, neck… The more it spread the more intense it felt, like a hive of angry hornets multiplying underneath his fur.
"What the hell have I done…" The canine muttered to himself as he looked down at his trembling paws, whatever injuries he'd sustained were obviously still there but this new feeling, neither pain nor pleasure, was drowning out everything else. He could no longer feel them. All he could feel was this rush and admittedly, once you got used to it, it was exhilarating. A rush like the one you'd experience during a fight or after outfoxing one of the best pilots in the galaxy. Wolf's chest heaved as his body demanded more oxygen to supply all of this energy but the smoke-contaminated air around him had less to offer. Whatever he had to do, it was imperative to do it now.
His first test of this new sensation went well as he ripped the injector out of his thigh and felt nothing for it, that was a good starting point to gauge how well this might go. Pushing the boundaries again he looked up to the cockpit glass, it wasn't tall enough to fully stand in here so he gingerly lifted himself from his seat as much as the head clearance would allow for. To his surprise, in spite of the severity of his injuries, he was capable of standing. It was impossible to tell if it was due to his toughness or just sheer luck, but it was starting to look like he might end up being one of the few who'd used this stuff and lived to tell about it. If he got out that is.
Wolf mashed his upper-back against the cracking glass and pushed his palms up above his head for some extra leverage. Spilling over with renewed vigor, the canid's blood-stained teeth glistened red as he gritted and, with a slowly escalating growl, began to tense up. Using every working muscle in his body he forced himself into the canopy, growing to a point where he was using as much strength as could be mustered in his current state. Ears folded back and tail tucked, almost as a defiance against the natural order of things, he made the cockpit start to budge. The rocks and dirt that were suffocating the lid started to crumble off to the sides all over again, clinking off of the Wolfen's armor as they rained down. Those sounds intermingled with straining metal and cracking glass, filling the tiny space like an earthquake as everything hoisted up on the captain's remarkably robust shoulders.
Remarkable as it was though there was no way this could be kept up forever, Wolf could feel the limits of his body rapidly approaching as his strength drained, but he couldn't stop now. There was a sliver of space forming, a doorway to the outside world taunting him and motivating him to take this further and further… Finally, when he reached the point where his body was only moments from failing him the desperate dog threw out a final Hail Mary. This actualized as an ear-piercing bark and a strong heave that utilized whatever energy he had left in him, knocking Wolf back down into his chair as a result.
This didn't result in the lid snapping open like he may have wanted, but what he got still might've been enough. His display of strength displaced a huge amount of rubble off of the lid which decimated its weight, as a result the hydraulics miraculously were able to catch again and took over from there. Laboriously, the piston extended outwards and while it complained with a loud screech the entire time it was made to work, the job slowly but eventually got done. The canopy was pulled into its full upright position at a 45-degree angle; letting in a rush of clean, fresh air. It was nothing short of a goddamn miracle.
As soon as it was open a tired grey wolf climbed up and collapsed over the side of the cockpit, half of his body still inside as his torso flopped out onto the metal. His cheek pressed against the cold, dirty paneling with his tongue out – panting and rendered completely limp. Even with that extra adrenaline flooding through his nervous system it wasn't enough to get the job done, he counted what few blessings he had that the ship's hydraulics were built as well as they were. The damage he might've done to himself by pressing his injuries this far could still prove to be fatal, well… A lot of things could still prove to be fatal. But the warm beam of orange-yellow daylight gracing his fur and the wind tickling his nose reminded Wolf was this was all for. If he was going to die, it would be on his own terms.
Knowing that the rest he enjoyed now was well-deserved, he was able to take a moment to observe his surroundings as best he could from where he lay. Wolf's single red eye was dilated and unsteady but he could still roughly make out where he'd ended up. From looks alone it appeared that his Wolfen had crash landed in the middle of a wide abandoned street; the nose of the ship was almost entirely embedded in the concrete and there was a large gash leading up to where it currently lay – stone and rubble tossed all over. Judging by the way it still covered the rest of the ship it looks like the cockpit lid was entombed in the kicked-up chunks of concrete and a shower of dirt. Say what you will about the Wolfen but a lot of other fighters would have just exploded on impact. It couldn't be argued that it was a hearty, well-made vessel at its very core. Wolf spent the next few minutes enjoying the fruit of his labor until he once again felt recuperated and was able to take to his feet, climbing the rest out the way out to mount the bow of his destroyed pride.
There didn't seem to be life for miles as everything around was completely abandoned, torn asunder by war or whatever else had ravaged this area. Like in any other city buildings and parking lots lined the sides of the road but here they were all uninhabitable; either reduced to rubble, boarded up or both. Old abandoned vehicles littered the street with blown out windows, glass carpeting the floor. Wolf sighed, this kind of stuff wasn't an uncommon sight on a planet sandwiched between Venom and Corneria, all things considered they were the real victims of this seemingly never-ending conflict. Conflict was even raging on still; miles and miles overhead, so far into the stratosphere that they could no longer be seen, the sounds of a distant dogfight still rang out. Engine screeches, flashes of light and accompanying explosions polluted the sky.
With the most immediate obstacle to his survival overcome Wolf's memory finally started to come back to him, the sensory overload and urgency of survival holding it at bay before. Pivotal moments that came to slowly like a slideshow of his failures, both in the fight and of his responsibilities to his team.
"…That fox." Wolf growled as he stared off into the distance, curling his fingers into fists. "That crafty goddamn bastard of a fox had his way with me AGAIN." He punctuated his sentence by punting a dirt clump as hard as he could with his steel-toed boot. This whole situation was entirely avoidable too, that was the worst part - it was just a job and not even one he accepted out of necessity. The warchest of money he'd been paid during his involvement of the Lylat Wars was enough to fund the team's continued existence for the rest of their lives three times over. He accepted it because he was bored.
After the death of Andross and with him, Wolf's loyalty to the Venomian army, he didn't hold any stake in this conflict anymore. He was free to pursue any path he wanted to go down but, seeing now that he was acting like an ignorant pup, he refused to just relax for a bit and kept taking government contracts. Not only were they the most interesting but they also paid the best, which was definitely a motivating factor even despite the aforementioned warchest. The market was flooded so there were plenty to choose from and most of the times he picked well for Star Wolf's size and skill, to this point they hadn't suffered any losses and got a full payout every time. This one in particular was just another bodyguard assignment, those tended to be pretty quiet so a surprise visit from the Star Fox kids wasn't anything they were prepared for. Getting jumped by fighters as advanced as the Arwings were was basically a death sentence.
Regardless, the fact that he was breathing at all was a victory in Wolf's eye. Some called him lucky to survive his last few encounters with Star Fox but he knew that luck had nothing to do with it. Real men make their own luck; he'd done it countless times before and that's precisely what he had to do now. He was free now but that wasn't enough, never satisfied with what he had he extended the goal out to finding find Leon and Panther. After all, his own survival was worthless if they didn't survive as well… But that was easier said than done. Any and all methods of long-distance communications that he had were shot, the only option would be to abandon all of the technological crutches and go back to the basics. The old-fashioned way of tracking.
Chest heaving, Wolf swore under each breath as he scanned the abandoned city's cloudy orange skyline, looking for any clue as to where his teammates might've fallen. There wasn't much to go off of and with the speed/altitudes that they were fighting it, it wasn't unreasonable to think that they could be many, many miles away. But there was one thing to go off of, it wasn't exactly reliable but it was more than nothing. There were some pillars of smoke climbing above the buildings in the horizon, serving as a beacon indicating that something may have crash-landed here earlier. While it could realistically be anybody that was in their dogfight, he prayed that two of them belonged to Wolfens. Lord knows that an old dog like Wolf could never catch a break, but maybe just this once karma would lay off with the punishment.
Before starting off on his journey he crawled back into the cockpit and took with him whatever he could find that might offer some help. His signature firearm and knife were the first and most obvious picks, slotting his blaster into its hip-holster and the knife into its sheath on his lower back. Wolf had never been a man who placed huge importance on emergency supplies so the rest of what he was able to scrounge together was unimpressive. The recently-used medical kit, a few dry food rations, a bottle of water (promptly opened and halfway chugged) and then a tightly folded space blanket. All together it didn't amount to much but it was still better than nothing. He tucked it all into a bag that was then slung over his shoulder as he dismounted the Wolfen, both boots slamming firmly onto the concrete.
"Hey-… Hey! Captain! We've got a live one, right over here!"
And just like that, within seconds of finding his footing karma came knocking all over again, apparently intent on not letting Wolf leave this hell in one piece. The grey-muzzled captain froze up as the voice rang out from behind him, causing his ears to tweak in its direction. Nothing could just go the way he wanted it to, could it?
"Hey don't move! Drop that gun on the floor and put your hands in the air, asshole!"
The sound of a rifle's bolt being charged put emphasis on this command. Knowing it wasn't smart to argue with somebody who may or may not have a gun pointed straight into your back and also may or may not have a friend nearby, Wolf sighed out a stressed breath and reluctantly did as he was told. He looped a finger through his handgun's trigger guard and slowly dragged it out of its holster, plopping it down on the road with a clatter as soon as it was free. It didn't look like they saw his knife though, tucked away under his jacket as it was. His arms were still shaking and numbed from the influx of adrenaline coursing through his veins but he raised them in the air regardless, careful not to show off his waistband.
"Alright, now turn around. But do it slowly! I don't wanna see any sudden movements."
Once more he did as he was told. Wolf was resilient but he wasn't stupid, there wasn't any other choice but to play their game right now. Turning around to face his captors, as soon as they saw who they were in the presence of the closest one lowered his gun, expression changing from domineering to awe-struck.
"Holy shit, is that Wolf O'Donnell?" He exclaimed, squinting to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. The pair were obviously Cornerian, their kind refused to hide it. Helmets, vests and weapons were steel-silver and green, emblazoned all over with the symbol of their allegiance. The fact that they were completely clean and put-together nicely gave away that they weren't survivors like he was, they were a clean-up squad. Probably sent to make sure any surviving pilots were brought back to Corneria to pay for their crimes.
"Oh my god I think it is." The second replied, equally astounded. Unsurprisingly they were both mutts of some kind, one taller with a snout like a Doberman and the other some kind of middling mixed-breed. Purebreds were getting rarer and rarer these days. "I don't believe it. Wolf O'Donnell. Standing right here in front of me. In the flesh." A snide smile formed on his maw as he lowered his rifle as well, looking at the state Wolf was in it wasn't unreasonable to assume that he wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight. "All that blood belongs to you, don't it? God you're a mess, legendary face like that and I still almost couldn't recognize it. You look like you're barely standing." His own childish mocking made him snicker. Wolf looked down at himself for the first time since getting out into the daylight, with his heart racing as it was he'd almost forgotten how bad of a shape he was in. His pilot's outfit was normally a smooth, flat black with metal studs and reddish-purple highlights adorning various places, right now though it was looking more reddish than it was purple. The front of his shirt and jacket were stained almost all the way down to his belt with sticky red blood. The smoke seemed to have seeped in too, any bright highlights that used to be were now caked in a layer of smoggy filth, muting any striking appearance they may have had. And that was only on the outside, lord knows how severe his internal injuries were.
"Please, you have to help me…" With the raspiest voice he could muster the captain made a plead for his life, tail tucking between his thighs and ears drooped. "You have to… I- I can't die here…" It was remarkably pathetic for a man of his stature, the Cornerians seemed to like that.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Stand still and get your hands behind your back scumbag." The larger Doberman-looking canine commanded, snapping a pair of handcuffs off of his belt loop. Wolf promptly complied, obediently crossing his paws behind him. The pair stepped forwards with the arresting officer crossing behind to start to restrain him, his partner on the other hand couldn't resist the temptation of shoving a bit of dirt in the legendary pilot's nose. He stepped right up into Wolf's face, a big devilish grin plastered across his maw.
"You're not lookin' so tough anymore now, are you big guy? Beggin' us for help like that…" He snickered, sizing his captive up and down. His breath smelled bad but not in any specific way. "There's rumors out there that you're invincible you know, the people talk you up somethin' fierce - make you sound like a real scary guy. I should've known that legends don't exist outside of storybooks, deep down you're just another pathetic coward like the rest of the filth from Venom." Feeling like he'd made his point, the dog hocked up and spat on Wolf's spiked boot. "Untouchable my ass. You stink like shit."
That was enough, the man had clearly dropped his guard by getting this close to him and they were both going to regret it. Wolf didn't have to place nice anymore, they closed the gap for him.
Moments before the cuffs would have been slapped onto his wrists Wolf wrenched his arm free from the other's grip and went to unsheathe his hidden knife. To his surprise, his fingers simply brushed past where the hilt should have been. The sheath itself was there, but what it should have contained was not. His racing heart skipped a beat, it was definitely there just a few seconds ago – he could distinctly remember feeling the weight and size of it under his belt. But now it wasn't… And unfortunately he didn't have any time to dwell on it. He had to think on his toes if he wanted to get out of their custody but to his advantage, the ability to think on his toes was one of Wolf's strongest assets.
With no reservations and as much strength as he could muster Wolf plowed his kneepad into the gut of the Cornerian dog who stood before him, the unpredicted stun to his diaphragm causing him to double over and hobble backwards with a labored wheeze. Pushing his advantage on this one before his partner could intervene, Wolf lunged forwards with redoubled vigor and raked a spiteful hand full of claws up across the right-side of his face. His strike was wide, slashing him open from his collarbone, across his muzzle and all the way up to his forehead. Blood streaked across the floor and his helmet was sent flying away, the mutt himself knocked onto his back. The previously cocky pup was quickly brought down to reality, his words reduced down to a scream as he squirmed and clutched his face. His rifle had fallen out of his grip, skidding across the concrete away from them.
Clearly underprepared for this kind of opposition the arresting soldier fumbled with his holster in a panicked state as he watched his partner collapse, he'd slung his rifle around his back to apply the handcuffs so now the handgun would have been a faster draw. That is, if he could figure out the retention locks with his grip trembling like this… Not an easy feat when surprised and under duress. It took a couple extra seconds longer than usual but eventually he got it free; hands on the grip, safety disengaged and raised it up to aim. But by this point he was too late, Wolf was three steps ahead. His buddy's rifle was already trained on him and without hesitation the grizzled Star Wolf captain let out a five-shot volley, mercilessly pelting the Cornerian Doberman with plasma-charged rounds in both the chest and face. Just like that, without so much as a whimper the dog sunk down to the concrete.
Panting profusely, Wolf's vision darted all over to check for any kind of backup that might've heard their altercation. If these two were able to sneak up on him it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that there were more to the posse… But after the dust settled to naught but silence, he realized he was in the clear. At least for right now. It wasn't really his style so Wolf hucked the brightly colored Cornerian rifle off to the side as he walked up to the first mutt that was dropped by his left-hook. By now he'd quieted down quite a bit but was still writhing and whimpering into his palms.
"This… This was the biggest mistake you could've made…" The Cornerian piped up as he was walked up on, each word laced with pain. Wolf just stared down on him, looming ominously over his prey. "If you just came with us, you would've lived… Now… Now you're FUCKED." He barked out. Being honest with himself Wolf couldn't argue with that logic, harsh as his words were he was probably right. The epi shot had kept his body moving in the short term but after that wore off he had no idea how he might end up, but the future wasn't exactly looking bright at this rate. The one thing he did know, though, was that his team was out there somewhere and he wouldn't rest until he knew they were safe. The Cornerian opened his mouth again to say something but ate a punt straight to his jaw instead, rending him unconscious in one quick motion. It was better off this way.
"…Filthy animal." Wolf muttered, wiping his boot off on the man's jacket before turning away. Tired, injured and sore the greymuzzle sighed out his frustration as he switched his attention back towards the soldier that he'd riddled with plasma - there must have been some handywork going on behind his back, that knife went somewhere after all. He squatted down over his corpse and started to pat him down. There it was, it seems when Wolf was getting lectured this one took his knife away and tucked it into his waistband. He took it back and re-sheathed it, but that wasn't all. With a bit more digging around it seems that karma did have a little bit of empathy.
Wolf uncovered and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the man's pocket. Miraculously, not only were they the brand that he preferred but most were still smokable too. He stole the Cornerian's lighter next and lit one up in his muzzle, taking in a deep, much-needed drag of the sweet fumes and holding it in to let the nicotine tingle at his lungs. Amidst all of the pain and suffering surrounding him, it was nice to just enjoy a moment of much-needed reprieve. He made sure to collect his blaster from its place on the ground and re-holstered that as well, but before moving on one last thing caught his eye… A communicator. It was strapped to the Doberman's shoulder and still looked like it was in pristine condition, luckily none of the bullets had hit it. Wolf got the received unhooked and looked it over.
The private frequency that Star Wolf used had a long, complicated address but the number of times he'd entered it, it was burned into Wolf's memory. He dialed it in one digit at a time, following that with the team's encryption key when prompted to do so. It took some time to tune but as soon as it did… Nothing but static. He didn't really know what he expected but it was worth a shot. Regardless, it was possible that somebody was still listening.
"Leon, Panther… I pray that you're out there somewhere and can hear my voice. If you can, please… Do your best to stay close to your ships so I can find you, but you need to hide. You're in danger. They came for me. They came for me and I stopped them, so it's safe to say they're coming for you too - but so am I. Stay safe. Stay safe and I'll see you soon."