The bar was dark and seedy. There are millions of them across the galaxy, all much the same.

At a table in the back, drinking a glass of whiskey, he sat and waited. One purple eye gleamed in the shadows, taking in the clientele. This was a certain type of bar, and the other patrons were his kind. Silent. Scary. Waiting for the names to be posted.

Which gave Wolf all the more reason to wonder about the weird asshole in armour.

He was at a booth in middle of the bar, feet on the table and hands behind his head. No drink. He hadn't even taken off his helmet. His armour looked advanced, but whatever tactical advantage he gained from the dark grey colour – bordering on black – must have been ruined by the bright orange streaks he'd painted into it. He was using some kind of communication device; at least, Wolf hoped he was. He was ruining the dank atmosphere of the bar with his loud yammering; he could at least have the decency to aim the conversation at another person rather than empty air.

"Relax, Locus. He told us to be there by the end of the month, and at the end of the month, I'll be there. But if I can turn a profit on the way... Yeah. That's great, buddy. You can do as much prep work as you like, by yourself." He laughed. "I don't need it. You can't improve perfection."

No, he was definitely talking to someone. During the rare – merciful – gaps in his speech, Wolf could make out the deep rumble of the voice on the other end of the line. This idiot had his comm link turned up unnecessarily loudly – but Wolf's hearing had always been good.

His ear pricked at a different sound – a beep from his coat pocket. Finally.

Bounties.

Wolf took out his personal communicator and scrolled through the images, briskly scanning the screen. He perked up – very slightly – when his eye landed on a familiar face. One of the bounties posted was for Fox McCloud, leader of the StarFox team and Wolf's constant rival.

It was worth a lot of money.

Wolf chuckled. "Well, now... must be my lucky day. Dunno what you did, kid, but I guess I can ask when I find you." He tapped Fox's face, laying a claim to the bounty, but it was just a formality. Their rivalry was infamous. No-one would be stupid enough to get in his way.

Wolf finished his drink. He was done waiting, and he wasn't going to waste any more time within earshot of that obnoxious loudmouth. Said obnoxious loudmouth was showing no signs of shutting up.

"You really do sound like my grandma sometimes, you know that? If she ever gargled a bucket of gravel, that is... Oh, hey, drinks are on me once I get there. Just picked up a bounty. Yeah, yeah, I'll be quick. Y'know how you're always giving me shit about wearing orange, Mr Stealth Expert? Well this guy is orange. These animal people are wild. Pun intended."

Wolf froze halfway through the motion of straightening out his coat. He pulled out his communicator and checked Fox's bounty.

Two claimants.

He let out a slow breath as he slid the device back into his pocket. He had to deal with this.

It wouldn't take long.

Wasting no time, he strode over to the armoured mercenary, his face hard. His quarry noticed him quickly. It was generally hard to ignore Wolf. The eyepatch alone made him stand out.

"...Hold on, Locus. I'll call you back. My ship is about to be boarded by some kind of old-timey pirate." He tapped a finger to the side of his helmet, then leaned forward. No doubt he was smiling under the visor. "Ahoy, matey. Something I can help you with?"

"I'll cut to the chase," said Wolf, his usual drawl clipped short. "I overhead what you said. Pick someone else. That kid's mine."

"I don't see your name on him, pal," said the mercenary breezily. "Of course, that picture only showed his face. Maybe you wrote it somewhere else – should I check his underwear?"

Wolf's eye narrowed.

The mercenary watched him for a few seconds, expectant. Then he shrugged. "Jeez. I expected more of a reaction. Silence can be real incriminating, y'know."

"I'm about two seconds away from shooting you in the face," said Wolf.

"Ah. Cool. Well, it sure is nice of you to loudly declare your intentions before you–" The man cut himself off as Wolf reached for the blaster on his belt. "Whoa whoa whoa! Hold your horses! Fuck, I sure hope that's not, like, a racial slur or something..."

Wolf stopped, but his hand didn't leave his gun. "You're making it real hard to not kill you, you know that?"

The merc sighed, exaggerating the bodily motion to make it clearer through his armour. "Okay. Let's... slow down a little, big guy. Sorry for running my mouth. We got off on the wrong foot. How's about we put away the threats and the knuckle-cracks, huh? We can discuss this like two members of civilised, space-faring species." He offered a hand. "Name's Felix, by the way."

Wolf warily shook it with his free hand. "Wolf."

"Haha, yeah. I can see that. Your name, though?" Wolf just glared at him, and Felix leaned back. "Christ. Really? What was wrong with your parents?"

"What was that you were saying about the wrong foot?" growled Wolf.

"Right, right – sorry!" He laughed. "I admit I can be a bit of a clutz, socially. Say, you want a drink?"

"I was on my way out."

Felix held up a hand, standing. "No, I insist. It's on me." He moved slowly toward the bar, turning his back to Wolf. "What's your order?"

Wolf hesitated for a moment, wary – but it was hard to turn down a free drink. "Whiskey. Top shelf, if you're paying."

Felix laughed as he subtly reached for a holster on his leg. "Fair enough! That's what I get for offering." He gave a little wave to the bartender with his other hand. "Hey, pal. Could I get a shot of your best whiskey, aaaaand –" without warning he spun on his heel and threw the knife.

It was a fast motion, well-oiled with practice. The blade cut through the air at high speed. Felix had killed plenty of people like this before.

But none were fighter pilots.

Wolf's hand was on his reflector before he was even sure what was happening, and his thumb depressed the button with time to spare. Red energy flared around him, and suddenly the knife was flying right back the way it had came.

Felix had a second to react, a second he almost wasted trying to catch his knife. Instead he managed to duck to the side. The blade sliced past him and embedded itself firmly in the bartender's face.

As it happened, the bartender was a robot. But it was an elderly, somewhat rusted robot, and the days when it could weather high-speed impacts to its cranium were sadly long past. It stood for a moment, sparking, before slowly tipping backwards and clattering into a heap.

Even in bars such as this, killing the bartender was generally considered to be something of a faux pas. The other patrons quietly downed their drinks and shuffled out of their shadowy corners, leaving Wolf to glare at Felix with cold, precise fury. The fight would be over soon, one way or another. The trick was coming back to loot the bodies, rather than ending up as one yourself.

Wolf broke the silence first, his eye drilling into Felix's helmet. "Guess we were never gonna settle this by talking, huh?"

Felix shrugged, a grand, expansive gesture. "Then let's skip ahead to how guys like us really get things done, shall we?"

"Yeah. Let's."

For a few seconds, they stared each other down; Wolf poised and ready, Felix's posture oddly relaxed.

At the same instant, they went for their guns.

Wolf got his blaster out first, firing a salvo of blood-red bolts. Felix dodged to the side, twisting his shoulder out of the way as he drew his assault rifle. Wolf's blaster was heavy duty, easily enough to punch through Felix's armour, but the projectiles were a lot slower than good old-fashioned lead.

Which was the exact reason Felix didn't open fire.

Instead, he extended his other arm and activated his own protective gadget. The device at his elbow projected a sheet of hard light, covering him as he moved backwards. Wolf's shots impacted against the shield, red against blue.

Felix reached the bar and, in a quick motion, slid over the surface and ducked into cover. He wriggled his knife out of the bartender's head and sheathed it. "Waste knife want not," he murmured to himself.

Wolf kept his eye on the bar, growling impatiently. This was already a waste of his time; if Felix ran and hid, it could take all day. The sooner this moron died, the better. "Shoulda guessed you were a coward!" he called. "The loud ones always are."

Felix's fist tensed, but he forced himself to ignore the taunt. He had to confirm his suspicions first. He raised his gun over the bar, firing blindly at Wolf. Sure enough, Wolf activated his reflector again, and the bullets bounced right back, exploding the bottles on the shelf.

Felix huffed out a sigh. He'd rather kill him at close range anyway, but first he had to figure out how.

Wolf glared at the shattered bottles, their contents bleeding down the wall. "And now, on top of everything else, you've wasted good whiskey."

"C'mon, that's your concern?" replied Felix, breezily reloading his gun. "I'd be more worried about safety. After all, it's all fun and games until someone loses an eye."

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Wolf, keeping his blaster pointed squarely at the bar. "Real easy to make jabs at someone's appearance." He broke into a grin. "Easier for some more than others, though. Maybe there's a reason you keep your helmet on, huh...?"

Felix drew a knife, the motion sharp and short. "Don't even try, fuzzball. I'm easily the most handsome guy who'll ever stab you."

"Doubt it," said Wolf simply.

Felix sprang up, throwing the knife. Wolf activated his reflector and the knife flew back, but Felix was already clear of the bar. Holding his shield up at an angle, he ran to the side while simultaneously firing at Wolf.

Wolf kept his reflector on, deflecting the entire clip. Felix slid behind a booth and began to reload as quickly as he could. Wolf growled to himself. He knew full well that Felix was trying to wear down his reflector's power reserves.

He wouldn't get the chance.

Deactivating his shield, Wolf ran forward and jumped onto a table. The higher ground gave him a shot at Felix, and Wolf fired at Felix's gun. The bolt connected, knocking the rifle out of Felix's hands – and blasting it into two fragments for good measure.

"Fuck!" Felix ducked down closer to the floor, barely managing to stay out of Wolf's line of sight. "That shit's expensive, you asshole!"

"Shoulda left when you had the chance," called Wolf, checking his blaster. "Money's the least of your worries now." He jumped off the table and began to close in on Felix, aim steady.

Felix carefully drew two more knives. He called out, purposefully making his voice wobble. "C-c'mon, dude! Let's just forget about this, huh? Y-you want cash, I got cash! I –"

"I'm done listenin' to you," snapped Wolf. He rounded the corner –

and Felix sprang up.

Close range was his speciality.

A blade in each hand, he became a flurry of movement, slashing at Wolf's face. Wolf yelled and backed up, his guard weakening, and Felix wasted no time. Spotting the accursed reflector on Wolf's belt, he went low and slammed the right knife into it, pulling back with enough force to rip it off. He grabbed Wolf's blaster with the same hand and flung it, knife and reflector far across the room. With his left knife he went in for a few slashes on Wolf's torso, but his vest was thick and protective. Snarling, Felix tossed the blade from his left hand to his right and, with a vicious motion, stabbed it into a seam on Wolf's side.

The knife stuck through.

Wolf let out a low, pained grunt, almost a whine. Felix kicked him in the stomach and watched him fall back.

"Haha!" yelled Felix. "Lights out, doggo. You shoulda left me in peace. Told you I'd stab you."

Wolf looked down at the knife sticking out of his torso. "Yeah," he said.

Felix stiffened. "W-what?"

Wolf flicked a finger against the handle. It didn't wobble. "Yup," he declared. "You stabbed me. That's in there pretty good."

Felix stared. "You aren't... you..."

Wolf shrugged calmly. "I've had worse."

"You're not even going to take it out?!"

Wolf twisted his shoulders a little, testing his mobility. "Nah. It's fine where it is." He looked up to Felix. "If you want this thing back, you're gonna have to come over here and take it."

Felix's hands balled into fists, his arms shaking. "Christ, what is under that fur? Titanium?! Fucking die already!"

He drew his last two knives and charged. Wolf stared him down, ignoring the cuts on his face.

When Felix drew close and went in for a slash, Wolf side-stepped him and grabbed his arm. He twisted the merc's wrist, hard enough to force him to drop the knife. Wolf kicked it for good measure, the weapon sliding across the floor.

Felix snarled and whirled around, his other knife at the ready. He brought it down from above, aiming for Wolf's eye. Wolf grabbed his arm with both hands, cancelling his momentum.

Felix kicked out, hitting the knife in Wolf's side. To his disappointment (and confused fury), instead of screaming in agony, Wolf merely grunted. Felix searched for another way to break the stalemate – and realized one with a quiet laugh. He brought up his elbow and suddenly activated his light shield, which materialised at speed and hit Wolf in the face.

Wolf flew back, landing on the floor by the other knife. "What the heck...?!"

Felix was prepared for the fatal strike – but stopped short. "Hold up. You are a grown-ass wolf man and you just, without a trace of irony, used the word 'heck'. What the shit?"

Wolf's instinct was to ignore him and keep fighting – until he realised that Felix didn't seem to share that instinct. Instead, he looked up calmly. "So?"

"'So'?!" Felix gestured wildly, his knife glinting. "That's fucking ridiculous! You kill people for a living, right? You're a fucking murderer, for Christ's sake. Oh, but god-fucking-forbid you ever move past 'heck'. Swearing's a sin, and your mom raised you right!"

"Seems like she did a better job than yours," said Wolf placidly. He was focused.

Felix wasn't. "Are we seriously making Your Momma cracks now? Really?" Felix threw his eyes up to heaven, and Wolf took the chance to quickly snatch the knife next to him. "Christ. You're genuinely some kind of child, aren't you? Your species just matures really fast. I have been fighting a little kid this whole time." He shook his head, and Wolf took the chance to adjust his grip and ready his aim. "Y'know, I've done some fucking deplorable things in my life, but that shit was all on purpose. It doesn't feel great knowing a motherfucking toddler has been –" and Wolf flung the knife at his elbow.

Felix fell back, pain flaring through his arm – and his light shield projector sending out a flurry of sickly sparks. "Augh! Son of a bitch!"

He grabbed the knife and yanked it loose, but the damage was already done – and Wolf was already back on his feet. He didn't charge at him. He closed in slowly. Unblinking.

Felix considered himself to be, by and large, without fear. War had hardened him into a killing machine; when the war ended, he voluntarily became a mercenary, for god's sake. And yet a stupid, caveman part of his brain couldn't help but see a bloodied, furious wolf bear down on him and react with fear.

He flung his last two knives at Wolf, but he dodged both by just leaning to the side. He kept walking as the knives bounced uselessly against the wall behind him.

Felix began to back up. "Alright, alright. I think, to be entirely fair, I can admit that I was a little – wait wait no!" Wolf leapt forward suddenly, grabbing Felix by the throat and slamming him against the bar.

Felix thrashed, but Wolf's grip was too strong, and his body was at too awkward an angle. "Fucking fuck shit no no fuck shit no c'mon –"

Wolf's gaze was icy. Almost serene. "I believe the word you're looking for... is 'heck'."

Felix laughed bitterly. "What are you gonna do, strangle me through my armour? You're unarmed."

"Not quite," said Wolf calmly. Keeping one hand on Felix's neck, he brought the other to the knife stuck in his side.

Felix stared. "Dude, please, no, I'm begging you –" Wolf wriggled the knife loose and, with a low grunt, pulled it out. Felix choked. "Oh, god, that is disgusting!"

Wolf took a second to examine the blade, coated red with his own blood. "Trust me, pal," he said. "It's about to get worse."

He brought the knife down and Felix threw his hand up, grabbing his wrist and straining to keep the blade away from his visor. They struggled in stony silence, the only sound in the bar their strained breathing.

Felix's other arm flailed around, desperately trying to find a weapon. This hand closed around the corner of the bar's the cash register. Sucking in a breath, he pulled hard and dislodged it, bringing it down on Wolf's head.

Wolf grunted as the register slammed against him. He fell back, stunned. Felix let the register fall to the floor. He wanted to press the advantage, but he needed to catch his breath. For a moment, the two mercs did nothing – Felix leaning against the bar, Wolf half-slouched on the floor.

Then Felix looked down and said "Holy shit."

The cash register had cracked open and spilled its contents onto the floor. It was a huge pile of money – not just in volume, but in diversity too. Mostly units, but there was also gold pieces, five different kinds of credits, dollars, darseks, gil, woolongs, some Simoleons, even a few Rupees awkwardly wedged in among the paper and plastics.

Wolf sat up, rubbing his head. "Huh," he said. "Wouldya look at that."

Felix snorted. "If I'd known there was this much money in this shithole, I'd never have bothered with the bounty."

"Hmm."

Wolf reached a hand out toward the pile, and Felix growled like a wild animal. "Hey! Abapbap. No touch."

"Calm down, you moron," muttered Wolf. "I'm counting it."

"Well, count in your fucking head."

Wolf's eye narrowed. "This... is way too much for a bar like this to have. Especially in the register. This place wouldn't see enough business to sustain this."

Felix's head tilted, looking over the money for himself. "Hey, yeah. You're..." He stiffened. "Oh shit. This bar... shit, it's a front for something, isn't it? Someone like –"

Suddenly the door flew open. A crowd of men pushed through, all wearing long coats of dark red leather. Wolf recognized several as patrons of the bar.

"That's them, captain!"

"Yeah! They're the ones who're wreckin' the bar!"

"They killed the robot, captain!"

"They killed the damn robot!"

One man stood at the front – obviously the leader. A cyborg with blue skin. He took in Wolf and Felix calmly.

"Well, well, well," he drawled slowly. "You boys are in a whole mess a' trouble."

Wolf and Felix shared a look.

The bar was dark and seedy, one of millions. It wasn't the same bar, but it may as well have been.

In a table at the back, a communication device beeped. Its owner checked it quickly; this is what he had been waiting for. Bounties.

Two entries immediately stood out, posted near the top. One for Wolf O'Donnell, leader of team StarWolf; another for Isaac "Felix" Gates, infamous mercenary.

Both were worth a lot of money.

Together, it was a cold fortune.

Rocket gave a low whistle. "Man. Wonder what these two numbskulls did."

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"You said it, buddy."