Disclaimer: I own the many OCs, but Crash Bandicoot is the property of Universal Interactive.
Crashing Down
"Neither of us could move. I heard someone crying."
"She was only eight years old."
"And then you were in the light and it blinded you."
"And the needles. And the vortex."
"And it hurt."
"So badly."
At almost the same instant, their heads jarred to the side, afraid to let such painful images in any more. They sat, silently, panting. This was their ritual, done most nights for nearly seven years. They would sit together, their arms around each other, and think of how they had escaped, successful failures, from a world of pain they had once been destined to be part of. It was the only way they could cope.
Coco felt Crash's head move next to hers. He sat up.
"I'm gonna go to bed," he told her. He rarely spoke, and some people even thought him to be incapable of it, but when he spoke, it was like a quiet angel speaking next to you. "I'm gonna need all the rest I can get for tomorrow. Night sis."
He left, unusually slowly and quietly. Tonight, Coco remembered sadly, was to be his last night in the little wooden hut they called home. His jet-board, his jetpack, all his clothes and everything else he owned was already packed away ready to be moved to his new home. The one he moved into in two weeks time, when he returned to N. Sanity Island. From tomorrow, it was just the girls.
"Do you think he knows?" Coco asked.
"I very much doubt it," replied the cool deep voice. He had entered only a few moments ago, before Crash had left. He never interrupted their private thoughts, and he always entered without a shadow of a disturbance, but Coco always knew when he was there.
"Do you think I should tell him?"
"I can't tell you what's best, Coco," Aku Aku answered. "It's up to you to decide when the time is right for the truth."
She sat in silence, deep in thought.
"Oh, I'm just getting a drink," laughed another voice. Coco's ears perked up. "Damn these hot Christmases. You know in Britain they have it in the middle of winter."
Crash's soft "Wow" could barely be heard.
"I've got no doubt that she knows," said Coco, but Aku Aku had gone. She hadn't heard him leave.
The door opened and in came Crimson, the little-known little sister, the underfed eight-year-old that Coco had cuddled in her cage, now fifteen and the pride and joy of everyone who knew her.
"Are you okay?" Crimson asked.
Coco jerked out of her thoughts. "Yeah," she replied. "I'm fine. I'm just going to bed now. We'll need to be up early for the wedding."
"Laura, my best friend, you're looking lovely!" Bash Cranberry's eyes were darting up and down as he said this. Laura's chest was much reduced, but she still kept it in full view. "Tell me again why you had surgery."
"There's nothing to it, Bash," laughed Laura. "I just really wanted to be a driver, but the safety harnesses wouldn't fit around me."
Laura Landers was the bride's best friend, but had turned down the opportunity to be a bridesmaid, and wasn't telling why. "I just don't want to" was her most common answer. Coco and Crimson had instead been offered the honour.
"Hey," Coco whispered, getting between them. "Tawna's getting a bit… you know, about the final preparations, so we're going into the back to play video games till the vicar gets here. You coming?"
"You're on," said her manic and eccentric cousin, who had still decided to combine his bursting scarlet baseball cap with his new best man's suit, and he and Laura followed Coco into the little vestry, which the vicar and choir used to relax in, helpfully kitted out with PlayStation 2 and Multi Tap.
"Yo," said Crimson, tossing them each a controller from the old moth-eaten sofa she was sitting on in her long lilac dress. Crimson had wanted her and Coco to wear red dresses, and Coco had wanted blue, but the two had eventually compromised on lilac.
"There's something about the juvenility in it, isn't there," mused Coco through the loading screen. "Something about sneaking away from your brother's wedding preparations to play N.K.R.F. 4."
During the time that followed- no one was quite sure how long it was, there occurred two uncompetited victories, three thumps, twelve nudges, five kicks, fifteen instances of laughing-in-the-face, a burp and one case of blindhanding, during which both karts crashed because Bash had forgotten that he needed both hands on the controller.
"Aww, guys, what you doing?" No one could resist Crash when he sounded so let down, especially not now, with his hair spiked more elegantly than usual, and dressed in his new white suit. A pang of guilt instantly went through everyone's stomachs for neglecting the preparations of his wedding. Quietly, but still very much excited, they left the vestry-cum-games room and went down to the nave, where the bride, Tawna Chiba, still dressed in a camisole and shorts, was still giving orders. Tawna wasn't a gentle creature like her fiancé, although, when in deep danger, she was not capable of doing the kind of damage Crash could do. She was tall, standing at five foot eleven, sunshine blonde, knockers like grapefruits (and very large ones at that), undoubtedly attractive and quite butch. Not butch as in bodybuilder-butch, but muscular and strong enough to lift her soon-to-be husband over her head. Although to be fair, he could quite easily do the same to her. Her brother Kal, who was a year older than Coco, was standing next to her looking slightly but noticeably overwhelmed. Coco felt another pang of guilt go through her.
"Come on Tawna," called Crimson. "Let's go put your dress on. Crash, Bash and Laura'll take over here."
"My dress! Oh dammit, yeah," cried Tawna, running down to Crimson, and following her to the bridal changing room.
"Sorry about that," said Coco sheepishly to Kal.
"No probs," replied Kal. They kissed each other quickly, and Coco went to go down to Tawna's changing room. Before she moved though, she felt something thin and flat being pushed into her hand. It was a pamphlet entitled "Good Wedding Guide". Coco met eyes with Crash, and at the exact same moment they both burst into wild laughter.
Her sides aching, Coco left the nave and went to help Tawna with her dress.
That familiar organ sound, the tune that everyone knows, floated down the aisle to where Tawna was standing and filled her with nervous delight and anticipation. She took a deep breath and began to walk down the aisle to the sanctuary, where Crash was standing, looking every bit as nervous as she was, with Bash on his right and the vicar on his left.
Everyone's eyes and attention was focused on Tawna. It was only Coco who realised what was going on before the blow struck. Overtaken at once by powerful maternal and sisterly instincts, she spun round and jumped to one side, bracing herself and taking several hunks of rock square in the face, shielded only by her own arm. She received a gash on her left arm and a bloody nose, and was winded for her trouble, but she had been successful, and Crimson was unharmed.
Tawna, however, was far from it. She had taken a large amount of broken building to the head, and was lying unconscious and bloody on her side in the middle of the aisle. Crash, unharmed because he was too far from the blast, at once ran to her and knelt by her, his white suit indifferently stained scarlet. But it was no use; there was no rousing her.
"Crash." Coco spoke in barely more than a whisper, but caught his attention immediately. She beckoned him out and left, her long skirt clutched in her pallid left hand. He followed her. She indicated him to go round the right of the building, while she quickly but quietly crept around the left. Reaching the back of the church, they barely had time to see the small figure climbing in through the door of the hovering helicopter and flying away. They watched, studying.
"Let's go," said Coco, and they ran together back into the church.
They didn't get chance to talk until much later. Tawna had survived the trip to hospital, but she was in a bad state and had to have emergency surgery and be put on life support. No one quite understood exactly what was wrong, as, not being medical professionals, they couldn't tell, and the doctors and nurses were so busy with the casualties that no one wanted to ask them.
Thanks to Coco, Crimson only received minor bruising. Bash and Laura were both uninjured, but Kal had broken his right arm. Coco had needed a blood transfusion, and her left arm was now wrapped in bandages. Crash had nothing physically wrong with him, but the doctors suspected he was suffering from psychological trauma. The vicar, along with the majority of the wedding guests had made it out okay, but there were many injured.
"The logo on that helicopter…" mused Crash.
"It was the Defence logo," claimed Coco, somewhat weakly, having barely recovered from her transfusion. "The bombing was government-funded."
"Why would the government bomb a church full of people?" asked Kal.
"Well, they don't really see us as people…" was the only answer Coco could give. Needless to say she, like everyone else, had trouble believing that this was the only reason they had been targeted.
A sudden though struck Bash. This did not happen often, but when it did you could often count on them to be good ideas. If not that, they were at least entertaining to listen to. "Which way did the helicopter go?"
Coco thought for a moment. "West-south-west," she estimated. Her eyes widened. "In the direction of the islands!"
"Could they be using Cortex's old lab?" suggested Kal.
"But everything in there is destroyed," argued Bash. "We know it is. We did it."
"It must be replaceable," said Coco. "Hell knows they have the money for it. Even Cortex's own technology can be copied once you've studied the wrecks"
They were silent. It was Crimson, who had so far not said a word, who moved the conversation to action. "So what should we do?"
"First thing, I suppose, would be to check out Cortex's island," said Coco. There was a general murmur of agreement. Crash got up, nervously. "Don't," said Coco suddenly. "Stay here. She needs you more than we do now." Crash smiled, the first time since the incident. He was truly grateful.
"We'll go," volunteered Laura. "Me and Bash. We're not injured and we're probably not needed here, so…"
"And remember that shelter under the temple?" said Bash. "Well, Coco, you're injured pretty bad, and Crimson, you're the youngest here, and Kal's injured too. I think you should stay in there, just in case anything happens."
Coco agreed with Bash's idea, but Crimson was indignant about being pushed into a shelter when there was possible need of action, and only agreed to go when Coco told her that the shelter was full of surveillance and protection technology, and whoever was in there held a lot if power. Kal also agreed that it was a good idea, but he decided to stay with his sister, whether this was foolhardy or not.
If there was some secret operation taking place on Cortex's island, taking public transport over there would be a risky business, and a reputable boat hire company would wonder why more people had left on a boat than had come back, and so it was decided that the safest and easiest way to get back to the islands was to hire a boat from the shadiest looking dealer they could find. This was Al Sharknest, who was average height but very lanky, wore thick glasses and had a rather large head. All in all, Coco thought, he looked like one of Cortex's drones. But a drone showing initiative was a sure sign that Cortex was not involved, as well as an almost cert that the proprietor would not care if half the passengers had disappeared from a boat tour.
Within half an hour the unreliable little motorboat had taken them close enough to Cortex's island to see the tower that the blimp had once been attached to. There were indeed two helicopters, both wearing the logo of the Australian Defence Bureau, landed on the top. There were lights on inside the castle.
As Bash and Laura hid in the undergrowth near the beach with Tawna's video camera, bought especially for filming her wedding, trained on Cortex Castle, Coco led Crimson through the jungle to the shelter. She led her inland, under huge trees, through thick bushes and past strange creatures carved in stone. The further they went, the more nervous Crimson became, but Coco seemed to know where she was going. Eventually they came to a large dark cavern, one of the many entrances to the massive underground temple that ran beneath the whole island. That place was loaded with traps and mutated monsters. Surely they weren't going through there.
Of course not. Coco, having studied the ground just outside the entrance for a while, picked out one particular rock embedded in the earth, dug her fingers around it and pulled. Crimson expected her to have a hell of a time with it, but the rock came up quite easily, and to Crimson's surprise it was flat underneath. Concealed beneath it was a small dark tunnel with a ladder going down.
"I'll go first," said Coco. "I know where the lights are."
Crimson couldn't help feeling nervous as Coco left her alone to descend the tunnel into the earth, but her fears were lifted when warm yellow light suddenly appeared beneath, so that she could see the rocky texture of the floor in there, and heard Coco's voice yelling "Come on down!"
Crimson hastily descended, twice slipping and missing a rung. "Alright?" checked her sister, standing at the bottom ready to catch her if she fell.
The rocky floor was met with great appreciation, and seeing that Coco had kicked off her high-heeled lilac shoes, Crimson did likewise. The ground was warm to the touch.
The walls of the shelter were metallic and faded down under the rock floor. "It's reinforced steel," explained Coco. "It's steel underneath too, but we didn't like the feel of it so we just dug under the rock. This shelter's pretty much bomb-proof."
Crimson saw a wall of monitors to her right. On them she could see the rock that served as an entrance to the shelter, the entrance to the temple and several paths that led to and from the shelter. They were colour screens, and Crimson could see the animals in the jungle. No one could take this shelter by surprise.
"There's enough food in here to last eight people six months," said Coco. "Even though we never planned to have eight people in it. The ground around it can be electrified to stop enemies getting too close, and there are stun guns and gas releasers outside."
Crimson looked more around the room. "So how come I was never told about it?" she asked.
"We hoped we'd never use it," answered Coco. "We planned to tell you about it, but we assumed after how it's been lately that we'd never need to, so it must have slipped everyone's mind." She thought for a moment. "I don't think Kal knew either," she said.
Crimson looked again at the reinforced panic room around her. "What do we do now?"
"We sit tight," answered Coco, "and wait for trouble."
Dr. Niamh Cortex was everything her father wanted, and, though he would never admit this fact, everything he wanted to be (except female of course, because in the modern world such things are, or at least should be, irrelevant). First and foremost, she was a woman of immense intelligence. She had been to university only briefly, having already learned everything she needed to know for her chosen career from her father, and in his, her and most other people's opinions, was all the better for it. She was also very tall, over six feet, and the imposingness she had inherited from her father combined with her mother's height genes made her a much more frightening character to meet in a dark alley. She had dark eyes a head full of long, thick, straight raven hair, which she grew into a fringe at the front to cover the large grey "N" tattooed on her forehead. Her forehead was another of the few things, besides her height, that Niamh was glad she had inherited from her mother. Her father's diminutive height included an unusually large proportion of forehead, but hers, fortunately, was average sized. Both she and her young brother, most unfortunately, had not been so lucky in their complexions. Both had inherited their father's jaundiced-looking skin tone, and both avoided flesh-baring summer clothes in public out of embarrassment of this.
As her father walked into the laboratory, Dr. Niamh was staring intently into a monitor, the compound she was working on lying abandoned on the bench.
"What is it?" Dr. Neo Cortex asked his daughter.
"Two of your mutated bandicoots," Niamh answered. "There, in the undergrowth."
"Crash Bandicoot?" Cortex asked.
"I don't know," said Niamh. "I don't recognise the female, but from your description, the male could be Crash Bandicoot."
Cortex peered. "No," he said. "That is not Crash Bandicoot." He looked closer. "That is a later experiment, related somehow, to Crash Bandicoot. Yes, I remember. A naturally docile creature that only became dangerous to protect his hat."
"You're kidding," said Niamh, smiling in spite of herself. "Anyway this is bad news. The mutants must have survived the bomb."
"It may not be as bad as you think, my dear," smiled Cortex. "The absence of Crash Bandicoot and his sister Coco leads me to believe that they at least were killed. With them gone, we lose a powerful adversary."
Niamh seemed satisfied with her father's explanations. "I will return to work," she said, and went back to the bench where the volatile compound waited for her. Cortex couldn't help feeling pride surge within him to watch his daughter easily handling chemicals, her hair braided to her head and her white lab coat covering the dark clothes beneath, her goggled gaze so intent on her work.
He left the lab. Crash Bandicoot's probable demise pleased him. This would make his plan all the easier. He could take the country from within, and once he had done that, he could take the world.
And it would be so much easier too, to get revenge on Her.
Bash and Laura returned home briefly once they had seen all they could of the island. They brought with them more comfortable clothes, with extra outfits from Bash's wardrobe, or rather his bedroom floor, for Crash and Kal. These were stuffed into an old backpack of Bash's, conveniently stashed in the front porch from the last time he had used it. It still had his sports kit in it. They returned to the mainland in the boat, and Al Sharknest either didn't notice or didn't care that only two of the party of four had returned. They ran back to the hospital on foot, Laura carrying her shoes in her hand, their wedding clothes covered in sweat and dirt.
After the nurses refused to let them in without changing into their clean clothes and taking their soiled finery to be cleaned, Bash and Laura returned to the ward feeling much better. They entered to the excited questions of Crash and Kal, all of which basically came down to "what did you see?"
"The Australian Defence Bureau are indeed using Cortex Castle as a base," confirmed Laura. "They travel by helicopters similar to the one that dropped the bomb and the labs have either been repaired or are in the process. They got there without us noticing before by an underwater tunnel that you can only see when you're quite close to it."
"Do you know what they're doing?" asked Kal.
"We couldn't tell," answered Bash. "But if they're using Cortex's labs then they could be creating a new generation of Cortex Commandos-"
"What for?"
"I dunno, wars and stuff. They could throw them in when it's too dangerous for regular soldiers. Or they could be taking advantage of the vantage point at the top of that tower. You can see for miles inland up there. They could use cameras and telescopes and stuff to see what anyone's doing."
"But if it's the government," brought up Crash, "then we should be safe really. I mean, they wouldn't let Cortex work with them, would they after what he's done?"
"Technically they're not the government," said Laura, "but they work in the same way. They try to protect the nation and stuff, so I think you're right about Cortex. But they bombed our church. So it might not be Cortex, but someone means something."
"Dad!" called Dr. Niamh Cortex from the audiovisual security centre. "I've been watching the tapes of the jungle for the past few hours, and there were two other bandicoots running somewhere around the same time the other two were hiding on the beach. I think one of them is Coco Bandicoot, but I don't recognise the other."
Her father studied the paused image on the screen. "That is indeed Coco Bandicoot, alive and well," he spat. "And the other is the younger sister, who has been no trouble to us so far due to her age at our last campaign. It seems at least one of the pesky failures has survived the bomb. We can only hope the other is dead."
"But she's not so well, Dad," pointed out Niamh. "Her arm is in a sling. The bandage looks to quite red. She must have been bleeding badly at some point. I don't think she'll give us much trouble. In fact, they seem to me to be hiding rather than attacking."
"I see your point, daughter," said Cortex. "I doubt the bandicoots would want to involve the younger one in anything perilous. I have heard from my sources rumours of a secret bunker somewhere on Temple Island. Did you see where they went?"
"No," said Niamh. "They went out of the field of our surveillance."
"Or did they?" smiled her father. He pointed at five static monitors on the wall. "The electromagnetic pulse will lead us right to them."
It was mid-afternoon, but they day had been long and exhausting, and Crimson was glad to lie down and go to sleep. Coco looked every bit as tired as Crimson, but wouldn't sleep. She seemed preoccupied, as though she knew something was going to happen. She wouldn't tell Crimson. Perhaps she didn't really believe it. Or maybe she would tell Crimson if Crimson asked. But Crimson didn't ask, because she knew Coco did not want to tell.
Were we really playing a video game this morning…?
Gunshots.
And a cry.
Coco.
Yelling.
Not crying.
Calling.
"Crimson! Wake up!"
Crimson awoke to two shadowed faces obscured by thick glasses. One attempted to pin down her arms. The other held something that glimmered. She kicked and pushed with all her might, and managed, though not trouble-free, to free herself from the camp bed she was lying on. Momentarily she saw Coco across the room, skirt of her dress bunched up in one hand, the other hand defending herself, kicking with each leg in turn in true Hong Kong style, keeping three identical men away from her. Crimson tried to escape her pursuers, elbowing and tripping over her dress, and managed to put half the width of the room between them. In the little time this gave her, she grabbed her skirt in her left hand as Coco had done and attempted to knock off blows in the style of her sister, getting a kick in when she could. But Crimson was not as enthusiastic about martial arts films as her sister, and found that she needed both arms free to balance herself when she kicked, and could barely get her legs up past her waist, and most disturbingly of all, it seemed to be chance that kept that damn huge hypodermic needle out of her skin. She wished she were still wearing the high-heeled shoes she had been given to go with her bridesmaid's dress.
With desperation coming closer, she let all sense flood out of her and lashed out, teeth here, nails there, elbows in stomachs and feet in shins, with the odd headbutt when the blows got too close. Just as she was beginning to feel tiredness seeping into her muscles, a blow with a hard steel pipe put an end to any threat from one of her assailants, and a second later the other one, and a third who had ran away from Coco, were down on the ground beside him.
Crimson turned to her sister panting, with grateful eyes. Coco was also panting, and flushed under her fur.
When she was finally able to speak, Coco said; "They know where we are. We need to leave."
"How could they have found us?" Crimson gasped.
"I don't know," said Coco. Coco turned and crossed the room to a cupboard. "We won't get anywhere in these dresses," she said. "They're a nuisance. We kept some clothes in here for, you know, comfort reasons."
She opened the cupboard, and Crimson saw a big grin spread across her face, the first she had seen since playing N.K.R.F. 4 that morning. "Look at this," she said. "My old blue dungas with the broken strap. I put them in here so I wouldn't have to get rid of them after I outgrew them." She paused. "This is a problem."
Crimson looked in the cupboard. The clothes in there would not have fitted her when she was twelve. She hadn't worn them since she was ten. Coco's clothes, too, may have fitted her fifteen-year-old self, but would not fit her now that she was twenty. There were clothes in there for Crash and Tawna too, which probably would still fit them.
"You'll have to wear some of mine," said Coco. "I'll wear Tawna's."
They began searching through the cupboard, and Coco selected a pinkish t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts, which were quite baggy on her and required a belt, if not too long, as Tawna was much bigger than her in certain proportions. She pulled on a pair of her own hardly-worn trainers, which had been a size too big and a little uncomfortable when she got them, which was probably why they were down here, as Crimson would probably want the smaller pink trainers.
"Hey, Co, look at this," called Crimson, and what Coco saw when she turned made her grin all across her face again. Crimson was wearing the dungarees with the broken strap. Crimson had inherited the same short gene as Crash, so the dungarees were not a perfect fit. Crimson's long legs were just the right length for the trousers, but the top stuck out a little in front of her, and rather than leaving the ununfastenable strap hanging down by her side as Coco had done when she was small enough to wear them, Crimson had pulled it up over her shoulder to rectify the problem.
"You look gorgeous Crims," giggled Coco. "Very good fashion sense."
"Co?" asked Crimson. "Was I good back earlier?"
"From a martial arts sensei point of view you were terrible," laughed Coco, "but as your aim was to break as many teeth as possible, you were brilliant."
Crimson grinned. "Where do we go now?" she asked.
"I think we should try to get to Cortex Castle," said Coco. "See what's going on there." She silently climbed the ladder to the surface. "There's a Defence Bureau jeep out here that those guys must have come in. If we can hide in the boot, we can sleep through the journey back to the castle and no one will know were there."
It was twilight now, the real dark just beginning to show itself. At Crimson's idea, the bandicoots ran blindly into the jungle for about a hundred metres or so, before quietly returning and hiding in the boot. It was a while before the lab drones returned, but they fell for Crimson's trick of making them think that the women had ran for their lives, and they started the car and began to drive. Moments later, Crimson was asleep.
"Excuse me, if I come through, let me just have a look at her."
The bandicoots moved aside so that the doctor, a middle-sized, middle-aged man could look at Tawna and the various monitors she was hooked up to. "Let me see, yes, Miss Chiba has made an astonishing recovery. I think it will be safe to take her off life support." He turned to his colleague. "Would you agree, Dr. Microne?"
The other doctor, who was slightly younger, less smiley and female, looked Tawna over herself. "Yes, I think she will perfectly able to sustain her own life."
Carefully, the first doctor bent down to the plug attaching Tawna to the life support system and removed it. The sound of some quiet machine ceased, and Tawna seemed to breathe differently, and her look became more the look of someone who is peacefully sleeping. Tears began to well up in Crash's eyes. A few fell onto Tawna's chest as he bent down and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He couldn't be sure, but even so he always insisted that he had felt her respond.
He got up, and saw that there were tears in the eyes of Bash and Laura as well, and Kal's face was already drenched from weeping. As soon as Crash moved Kal dived on his sister quicker than Crash had, just gently enough to avoid hurting her. There was no movement on Tawna's face, but it could somehow be seen in her that she knew they were there.
"I'm gonna check the shelter," said Bash in a ridiculously high pitch, reaching for a big black walkie-talkie. He tuned it to the shelter's frequency and spoke: "Hello shelter, come in please… Hello, Coco and Crimson, do you copy…? Ladies? Ladies, you there…?" He turned to the others. "I think they've gone."
"Where could they be?" asked Kal, panic in his voice.
"If we assume the worst they're dead," said Laura. "If we assume the second-worst they're captured. The best we can hope for is that they've been driven out to the jungle, or maybe the temple."
Crash swallowed. "I'll go and check it out."
"Are you sure?" asked Laura. "I mean, your fiancée's just been taken off life support-"
"I'll go," said Crash. "You and Bash deserve a rest. Kal can stay with Tawna."
"If you're sure man," said Bash, clapping his hand on his cousin's shoulder.
Crash nodded, and walked to the door. And as he looked back at the frail, peaceful figure of his soon-to-be wife in the bare white bed, he thought he caught her stirring.
Coco was awoken by a jolt that sent her crashing into the back wall of the boot of the jeep. She felt Crimson hit the back of her, looked around and saw Crimson also opening her eyes and grimacing. Crimson opened her mouth, and Coco immediately raised one finger to her own mouth and whispered "Shhh."
The doors slammed. The drones walked from the car to somewhere else. There was silence.
Looking at Coco for validation, Crimson spoke. "Should we get out yet?"
"Not yet," whispered Coco. "They might come back. Or some might still be here."
For a painful hour, which seemed endlessly longer, the women lay silently in the claustrophobic darkness, listening for sound but hearing nothing except the ringing in their own ears.
Finally, Coco broke the oppressive silence. "I think it may be safe to get out now."
She eased open the boot of the car an inch, peered out, and then quietly opened it all the way. She pushed herself out and listened, followed closely by Crimson.
Coco led Crimson to a door. It opened as they came to it, and Coco refused to pass through without inspecting the area closely for security cameras. When they were sure it was safe, they passed through. All the time however, they were unaware that a diminutive, yellow-skinned figure had his eyes fixed on them.
Once again Niamh Cortex was glued to the monitor screens. There were bandicoots in the Castle. The same two she had spotted hiding out in the jungle. How could they have gotten in? How could they have stayed alive?
You couldn't trust the drones for anything. Niamh would have to deal with the bandicoots herself. Of course her father would love to have the honour, but this was a stressful time for him; he was feeling it much more than she was. She didn't want put him through any more. And besides, he was in a meeting with Darlington.
It was up to Niamh to take out the enemies of the Castle. She would pursue them ruthlessly.
Before heading to the secret shelter to see what may have befallen Coco and Crimson, Crash headed up to a dark coastal bar to see an old acquaintance. He thought he would need information, and he didn't know who could give it to him, but he did know one man who might be able to fill in some blanks.
"Crash Bandicoot!" cried Brio, dropping a cocktail on the floor as Crash stepped into the dank of the bar. He was surprised that Brio could see in here. "What are you doing in here? Ar-are you here for me? What do you- I mean, what can I get you?"
"I need infos," said Crash.
Brio nervously picked a few bottles. "Have one on the house. Non-alcoholic."
Crash allowed Brio to make up a cocktail. "Do you know what Cortex is up to?"
"No more than anyone else," said Brio. "What do you know?"
"Defence helicopters at Cortex Castle. Dropped bombs on a used church."
"Defence. That'll be Gin's contacts. Must be painful for Cortex, having some of those around."
A group of drunken louts called across the pub. "Top up the lager Nitsy!"
"Please ignore that," said Brio, all traces of his stammer and nervous disposition gone in an instant. He left Crash to get the glasses. Who, Crash thought, is downing lager in a dingy pub at eight o' clock in the morning?
"What do you mean," Crash asked when Brio returned, "'it must be painful'?"
"Oh, it's an affair, it's always an affair," said Brio, going back to the lager louts' table with four pints.
Crash sipped his cocktail. It was nice. Had wumpa juice in it.
"Just tell me if we should be concerned."
"Oh, you should be concerned," warned Brio. "More concerned than you've ever been about Cortex. He is a genius. His ideas just aren't always practical. If Defence are involved he's had a practical idea. It wouldn't surprise me if his daughter had something to do with it." Brio leaned in closer, as though sharing a very dangerous secret. "Be very careful." Again, there was no nervousness in his voice.
Crash finished his cocktail. "Thanks," he said, and left.
The light burned his eyes as he stepped into the real world again. Now he knew a little more about Cortex, he knew he had to get to his sisters as quickly as possible.
Noxious Gin felt low. But that was why he had this room, so he could meditate and feel better. Find Nirvana. Or at least stop himself putting a shotgun in his mouth.
In… out… in… out…
He had a headache. A migraine. He tried to meditate, but his breathing seemed to fall into a rhythm with the throbbing in his head, and that just made it feel worse.
In… out… in… out…
How could he just sit here with what was going on? Cortex was in mental agony, possibly worse than his own, and Niamh and Neil couldn't really be peachy with the situation.
And the rest of the world. Gin knew he had attempted many times before to aid in the coming of this event, but it had been different then. Every other time there had been a slim to nonexistent chance of success. What Brio had once said to him in some half-remembered time was true; Neo Cortex was a natural failure. But Niamh Cortex was different. She came up with ideas that worked; she had followed Brio's designs. With her in the lead, the world belonged to the Cortexes. And even though he would get his share of the rewards, Gin wasn't so sure he really wanted that.
It had been him that made it all happen. Cortex had asked for contacts at the Australian Defence Bureau. Gin hadn't wanted to give them to him, but how could he refuse Cortex? When that name came up, Cortex's mind had been clouded over with thoughts of revenge. But again, how could Gin refuse anything Cortex asked of him?
Everything Cortex ever wanted to do, whether Gin agreed with it or not, he had gone along with. Not out of admiration, loyalty or friendship, but out of debt. He owed Cortex his life.
Not many people knew that during the creation of the Cortex Commandoes there had been another project underway. Only a few people knew that in the next room, months after his own massive funeral, months after his beloved wife and children had given up hope, moved on and forgotten him, there was a man on the operating table, barely but just alive, with a live missile embedded in his skull.
Darlington surveyed the test results in front of him. They were good. Cortex had excelled herself. Weapons for controlled explosions, assassination, mass destruction, all here, all tested, all ready for use. Darlington hadn't mentioned anything yet, but he planned, once this was all over with, to give Cortex a grant and a job with the Defence Bureau. It would be perfect repayment for all her hard work and research, and just the career he could tell she wanted.
Neo Cortex was stuck in the middle of two opinions. He knew that the Defence Bureau wanted his daughter, not him. He knew she wanted this career, and he was pleased she had been given the opportunity.
But he was insulted. This man, this beast of a man, was offering a beginner's job to his daughter of all people. After what he had done. Neo hated the man. He was only useful for using. And that, in Neo Cortex's opinion, was all he was good for.
But it doesn't really matter either way, Cortex thought through the images in his head. He would die soon.
From what Coco could remember of Cortex Castle, the best place to find information would be Cortex's studio, where he kept his drawing boards, notice boards, blueprints, diagrams, plans and whatever else evil geniuses use to harness their evil genius. Unfortunately, since the last time either of them had been to Cortex Castle was shortly after Cortex had evacuated it and they had broken in to unleash a mad destruction frenzy, neither was particularly sure where it was.
Coco, sure that she was going the right way, had gone down one corridor, and was so absorbed in her mission that she forgot to check that Crimson was following. Crimson, equally sure that the studio was down a different corridor, had taken the one she preferred. How they could have been separated so easily is unthinkable, but all that can ever be known is that it happened.
It was minutes, innumerable, critical minutes, before Crimson realised she was alone. She had been following signs; objects and scenes she seemed to recognise. Coco must have been following different signs. She would have to go back and find her.
Which way had she come? She had turned left at the wall with the blue and red lights on it, and before that she had passed the triple locked door, and before that…
Here was Coco now. Crimson heard her walking down the corridor just around the corner. She must have realised Crimson was going a different way and come to find her. Crimson jogged down the corridor to the corner Coco was coming around, flushing warm with relief.
"Co-" she said, but the face she met was not Coco's. This face was at her level, while Coco was much taller than her. This face was male, and hairless and yellow, and framed by a somewhat girlish hairstyle, which was chin-length and black, with a side parting on the right that came down in a fringe that covered the left eye.
Crimson decided her best bet was to be threatening.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
"Neil," said the boy.
"And what are you doing here, Neil," she ordered.
He shrugged. "Following you."
"Why?"
He shrugged again, but this time followed it with nothing. He turned to go.
"You're not going anywhere," said Crimson.
"Why not," Neil challenged.
"'Cause how do I know you're not going to tell the Doctor where I am?"
"How do you know you haven't been caught on every security cam you've passed since you got here?"
Crimson looked around, and realised there was a security camera on the wall almost directly above her, and she must have been seen by it several times during her conversation with Neil.
Neil opened his mouth, but hesitated, as though speech was painful to him. "I know which way your sister went," he said finally.
Even though Neil was strange, and most definitely a Cortex, Crimson decided that she could probably do just as bad, or perhaps even worse, than to follow him. He started off down a corridor, the one Crimson thought she had come from, and she went after him. He kept a way ahead of her, looking back every few metres to check she was still following him, never fixing his eyes on her for long, and never making eye contact.
"She went this way," he said at last, pointing down a corridor.
"Which way then?" asked Crimson.
"Left, I think," said Neil.
"Are you sure?" Crimson asked.
"Well, no," said Neil.
Crimson groaned, and angry, exasperated groan.
"I got you this far, didn't I?" burst out Neil. Crimson looked at him. His eyes were on the floor, and a pink tinge had invaded his jaundiced cheeks, along with an involuntary nervous smile.
"Can't we see her on the security monitors?" asked Crimson.
"No," said Neil. "Niamh'll be in there."
"Niamh?" asked Crimson.
"My sister," said Neil. "She's a killer."
Crimson groaned again. "So which way do you think she went after that?"
Crash, like the others before him, had discovered Al Sharknest. Unlike them, however, Crash had no one to bring the boat back. He hoped Al Sharknest wouldn't mind too much.
For reasons of secrecy, Crash took the little boat out to Temple Island, and docked it on the far side, close to N. Sanity Island. He walked along the coast until he reached the closest point to Cortex's island, the place where it would be easiest and safest to start swimming.
It was not an easy experience, as Crash had only learned to swim a few months ago, and his stroke was weak and his breathing erratic. He went off-course a few times, and when he finally reached his destination at the base of the castle he had to stop and rest, guilt plaguing him as he did so.
Once recovered, he had to find a way in. His previous route had taken had taken him through sewage works, battlements, gene splicing factories and warehouses as well as through half the castle, but he didn't have the time for that now. There must be a faster way in that's not being watched.
But where is it?
Once upon a time there lived a happy, wealthy young man, rising through the ranks of the Australian Defence Bureau. He had a career that he loved, a job he excelled in, a big house, a nice car, use of the company helicopter and a beautiful, intelligent, perfect lover.
That was his only problem. His lover.
There was nothing wrong with her herself, God forbid, but the circumstances. The circumstances were all wrong.
"I hate it so much," Vincent Darlington had once said to Nancy. "It's so wrong that I should see the love of my life every day and have to call her Mrs Cortex."
"Hey!" came a slimy, oily, pitch-perfect voice from the doorway. "Where's my brave baby?"
Pinstripe Potoroo, a slimy, oily character if ever there was one, stood in the door, hair greased, suit immaculate, tommy gun in hand.
"They let you bring that in here?" cried Laura, with reference to the latter item.
"Of course they did," said Pinstripe, eyes gleaming.
"Why are you here, Pinstripe?" said Kal, voice full of menace.
"Why do you think I'm here bambino?" answered Pinstripe, crossing the room to the bed where Tawna lay unconscious. "I'm here to see my doll."
He reached out to stroke her hair, and as he did so she moved away.
"Pinstripe?" she breathed. It was the first anyone had heard her say, the first definite sign of consciousness since the incident occurred. Everyone crowded round her, Pinstripe on one side with Kal and Laura behind him, Bash on the other, to hear what she might say.
"Y'see," said Pinstripe, smiling slyly, "she's all over me. I woke her-"
"Make him go," said Tawna. She spoke so suddenly that the others were shocked, and she began to writhe, as though having a nightmare, eyes wide open, as she clasped her hand around Bash's arm. "Make him go, Crash, please, make him go, Crash, make him go…"
"It's okay," soothed Bash. "I'll make him go, Tawn."
Bash stood up to the sleazy gangster across from him, only the bed between them stopping him from grabbing him. Pinstripe sneered. Bash was unfazed.
"Listen, Potoroo," he spat. "This is not some cheap slut for you to be taking advantage of. This is Mrs Tawna Bandicoot. She is my friend, she is my friend's sister, and she is my cousin's wife. She wants you out. You will get out."
Pinstripe stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
"Get out," said Bash.
Pinstripe stood motionless for a few more seconds. Then, scowling he turned on his heels and left, banging on the door with his gun.
Tawna turned over and sighed. No one could tell whether she was unconscious now or just asleep, but either way, she was at peace again.
As Crash sat thinking, he stared out to sea. And as he stared, he noticed a strange dark line connecting Cortex's island with Temple Island. Laura's words came flooding back to him.
…an underwater tunnel that you can only see when you're quite close to it…
Spurred on by his discovery, Crash clambered around the coastline until he found another tunnel that went off in the direction of the mainland. It looked like it hadn't been used for a while, but was still, as far as Crash could see, perfectly operational. In fact, it seemed to have been recently repaired. There were bricks and tar and metal and things lying around everywhere.
He followed the tunnel back into the island. As he suspected the entrance to the castle via the tunnel was unguarded and had no working surveillance measures. But it was locked tight. Crash examined the door. Crowbaring it wouldn't help, and the lock was mechanical so small pieces of wood or credit cards wouldn't work either. He needed to use technological expertise; the kind of thing Coco was good at.
Of course, the only thing Coco wasn't good at was playing Mozart's Fifth Symphony on commercially purchased wind chimes, but this is a relatively useless skill to have unless you plan on making a career out of it.
So what would Coco do if she was here? She'd get out her laptop, hack into security and override the lock. But Crash didn't have a laptop and didn't know how to hack into security, so that was that plan down the drain.
He knew what he had to do, and he knew that if he couldn't do it Coco's way, he'd have to do it his way.
Niamh Cortex needed to speed up her mission. One of those damn dirty bandicoots had her brother. They were just around this corner. There they were.
Niamh raised and aimed.
"Get the hell away from him now."
Her voice was calm, composed and strong. It struck fear both into the bandicoot and her brother. Both stared with eyes like saucers into her gun barrel.
"Nia, don't!" cried Neil. Niamh didn't even move. "Ni she didn't mean anything!" Niamh kept the gun trained on the bandicoot. "Nia please she isn't harming anything! Nia! Nia please!"
By now Neil was in hysterics. The bandicoot was still standing in shock. Niamh prepared to fire.
"You dare to try and I will chew your trigger finger off."
The other bandicoot, the one called Coco Bandicoot, had appeared from a corridor on the side. She could have been a match for Niamh. Here was someone at Niamh's size, with a face as set and a body as deadly as Niamh's. Someone who could take her down and fight her.
But she could not intimidate her.
Niamh, imperturbable, simply stood still as before, gun trained on Crimson. Almost as though daring Coco to intervene.
"Put the gun down," said Coco. No response. "Put it down and I'll let you go."
Coco took one step. One step was all it took.
Blood blew from Crimson's forehead so fast Coco didn't have time to register the bang. At the same instant Neil was flying. Flying enraged at his sister and knocking her to the ground. Not even realising what she was doing, Coco found herself at Crimson's side. Checking for life. Finding it. Sitting her up against the wall. Needing a tourniquet. Where was a tourniquet? Her belt! Her belt would work as a tourniquet. Can't put it around her neck. Can't tighten it enough. Have to put it around her face. Tighten it. Tighten it till the blood stops.
But it was too late.
Seeing the pale skin, and touching it and feeling the cold, looking into those lifeless eyes that she had seen so full of joy, Coco felt sick. Not caring who heard her, who came running, she screamed.
Crash could get in, he suddenly realised, if he could find something hot enough to melt the lock.
He remembered shortly after he had freed everyone, when Coco had only just learned to read, and she was telling him something she had read about the ancient Greeks. Using a hollow tree trunk, coals, tar, sulphur and bellows, they had created a flamethrower.
Here was a reinforced steel tube for scaffolding, here a vat of liquid tar, here was a big tub of sulphur, the presence of which Crash couldn't quite explain, and here was a cement mixer that blew out quite a bit of wind. But what about coals?
He found a few packets of cigarettes left behind by the drones repairing the tunnel, and a cheap lighter that still had quite a lot of fuel in it. That would do.
He set the tube up on a few piles of bricks and aimed it at the lock. He set the cement miser up behind it, so that the back was facing his machine. He put some tar and sulphur in a strong metal bucket, attached it to the front, lit the cigarettes and threw them in. As the tar and sulphur started to burn, he ran to the back of his machine and started up the cement mixer. Air blew through the tube, sending a massive flame shooting out the other end, straight at the lock.
Knowing it might take a while to melt away a reinforced lock, Crash sat down to wait.
Cortex had been thinking morbid thoughts. He had thought about Darlington. He had thought about the fire axe. He had thought about cutting up Darlington bit by bit while he was still alive, the fourth finger of the left hand first. And Nancy? He wasn't sure what would happen to Nancy.
The only problem was, the fire axe was not in its case.
"Dad!" called Niamh.
"Ah, Niamh," he replied. "Have you seen the…"
He stopped when he saw Niamh. Her lip was bleeding and she had a black eye.
"One of the bandicoots is dead," said Niamh. "The young one. I shot her."
Her father gave no response. Her face dropped in irritation, and then in confusion. But Cortex was not watching her face. He was looking over her shoulder, at Coco Bandicoot, running frenzied with the fire axe.
He watched the blood splatter on her front. He saw the look on her face as it hit her. Orgasmic.
Neo stepped back in terror, sick in his stomach. For a second, the headless body of his own daughter stood over him. Then it crumpled, and landed bleeding at his feet.
Cortex could only stand there, gasping, tears in his eyes.
He looked up at the gore-covered bandicoot. She threw back her head and laughed.
Crash came back to his senses. The fuel for his flamethrower was just about out. He turned off the cement mixer.
Taking a metal pole, he approached the door and prodded it. He learned that his device had melted not only the lock, but the hinges as well.
He looked inside and was filled with shock and abhorrence at what he saw.
Coco ran faster than she had ever run in her life. There were drones after her, many of them. They were going to kill her.
In one hand she held a six-inch nail. She didn't even remember picking it up. In the other, she still clasped the long dead hair of Niamh Cortex.
She could sense a drone gaining on her. In a second, he would have her. In mindless fury, she spun around, hit him with the head of Niamh Cortex, and plunged in the nail. The drone dropped to the ground, a six-inch nail attaching Niamh's head to his own, and penetrating his skull.
Coco could see a dead end before her. She was doomed, but at least she would go down fighting.
But suddenly there was light. She ran out over the broken door, landing in the arms of her brother.
"Coco?" asked Crash.
"We gotta go!" she begged.
"Where's-?"
"Crash we gotta go."
Crash could see the meaning in her eyes, and the marauding drones behind her. He pulled her into the pod in the tunnel, closed the door and launched. There was not a second pod. They were safe.
Crash looked at his sister's face, stained with blood and tears.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Coco's lip quivered, and her eyes welled up again with tears.
"Crimmie's dead!" she wept.
The revelation knocked the breath out of Crash.
"What?" he choked.
"Crimmie's dead!" Coco repeated. "Niamh- Niamh Cortex got Crimmie!" She looked away, pain in her face. "That's why I killed her."
Crash sat down next to her. He put his arms around her shoulders. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
Finally she spoke again. "Crash, there's something else I need to tell you."
"Tell me anything," he said.
She took a deep breath in. "I'm not your sister Crash," she said. "I- I saw Crimson in Cortex's lab, when I was thirteen and she was only eight. They starved us all and it was terrible but… it was just more terrible for her, because she was so young. I saw a way through into her cage, and I went in and gave her some of my food. A drone saw us and assumed we were sisters. When we were freed, everyone still assumed we were sisters. There was no doubt that Crimson was your sister, so… you just thought I was too." She began to cry again. "And we knew all this time and we never told you."
He held her, in his quiet, as he always did at night when they talked, as she cried into him. "You're my sister," he said, "and that's all there is to it."
When the pod reached the shore, Crash took Coco straight back to the hospital. They waited while his clothes were sent to be cleaned, and hers to be burned. They were checked over, allowed to shower, and then given clean white bathrobes.
"You ruined my shorts!" was Bash's first reaction. Laura, cynical as ever, replied with "Bash, those things were ruined the moment they saw your house."
Hearts were filled with joy as Kal told everyone excitedly about how Tawna had spoken earlier, and with sorrow as Coco told them of Crimson's death. Neither Crash nor Coco mentioned that Coco was not related to Crash and Crimson. It didn't matter any more.
Later on Tawna woke up and spoke to everyone. She said she didn't remember Pinstripe's visit, just a painful sensation of needing Crash, but not quite being on the same plane as him.
It was a solemn occasion, and no one was quite sure whether they were happy or sad.
"Is the vicar still here?" Tawna asked after a while.
"I'll go check," said Bash, leaving to find a nurse.
"Why do you want to know?" asked Laura.
Tawna sighed sadly. "I wanted my two beautiful sister-in-laws to be bridesmaids at my wedding," she said. "Now there's only one. If I can't have the wedding I dreamed of, I want to get married now, straight away."
Bash returned later with the vicar.
Vows were said with full ceremony, with three guests present in scrubs, three in old plain clothes, the bridesmaid and groom in borrowed bathrobes, the bride in a hospital gown.
They kissed to applause in the sanctuary of ward forty-nine, ready now to begin their life together.