When the Tigers Broke Free
Corneria 2144:
"You'll be back, right dad?"
"Of course Fox. I promise you that nothing will keep me from coming back to you."
"But what if-"
"Fox, don't I always keep my promises?"
"Yeah…I just want to make sure."
"Don't worry kiddo. I have Pigma and Peppy to watch my back. I'll be alright. Keep the place intact while I'm gone. I'll be wanting it still standing when I come back."
….. But you never did…
It was on a Thursday that Fox had gotten up rather early. The sun had yet to rise and illuminate the mirrored surfaces of the windowed skyscrapers of the city like so many pillars of light. He was only just sitting down at his breakfast table when he heard a knock on the door.
"Who the hell is awake now besides me?" he mused to himself.
Fox walked to the door and turned the handle. The heavy old oak door swung slowly inward. A light fall breeze swept into the house and chilled the young vulpine. The weather was hardly what caused him to feel cold though as he saw what had waited for him in the doorway. A young canine in military khakis was standing before him at attention. There were only a few reasons the military would be coming to his house.
"Oh, uhm. Hello young man. Uhm, is your ah, mother at home?" he asked, clearly nervous about something. Fox felt his ears droop.
"No." he replied flatly.
"Well, do you know when she'll be back?"
"She's dead." explained Fox, unable to look the soldier in the eye. The dog's eyes widened at this.
"I'm sorry." He paused for a moment and all that could be heard was the faint rustling of leaves on the wind. "Well then, I guess this is for you."
He then held out his hand gesturing for Fox to take what he had. Fox slowly reached out to the offered paw only to drop the object when he fully saw what he was holding. A gold leaf scroll with the Cornerian seal now lay on the ground between the two animals. The dog looked to the boy in front of him, then bent to the scroll and retrieved it. He placed it in Fox's paws and then put his hand on his shoulder.
"Once again, I'm sorry." His voice was now strained. "Truly I am." With that, he saluted Fox once, then turned on his heel and marched away. He had to march fast to keep his mind off of the boy he was walking away from and the life he would now have to lead.
Fox fell back into his house. His house now. No one else alive could own it. He threw the scroll down onto the table and ran downstairs to the basement where his room was. The door flew open as he kicked it in. He took a moment to close it though, although no one would be there to intrude on him anyway, but he wanted to do everything he could to shut the world out. The young man collapsed onto his bed with his face buried in the pillow. He made no noises. It was as if he didn't want to alert anyone to his presence. He was afraid. He kept his feelings inside.
It's weak to feel bad. Don't let it hurt you. This sucks, but you can deal with it. You can. He would have. Dad could have. He was strong. Was. Oh God…
At the realization that his father could now only be mentioned in past tense, Fox lost control. He didn't care if it was weak. He pressed his head further into his pillow and screamed in pain. It was a long, tortured, agonized scream that showed his loss. He had no one. He was alone. The scream wasn't enough. He needed to do something. He needed to let it out.
The dresser was the first victim. He took hold of the top and threw it down. The glass top shattered across the floor, sending shards in every direction. Fox's feet were bare, but he ignored the pain that he received as the glass stabbed into the soles of his feet, almost in retribution for his violent outburst. He wasn't done though. He continued to scream as he grabbed hold of anything he could and threw it or snapped it. None of it mattered anyway. It was all just stuff. Keeping it wouldn't bring him back. He kicked the door so hard it fell off of its hinges. His light was gone after a vicious toss off a paper weight towards his lamp. Both broke on impact, sending more glass pieces across the room. He was on a rampage of self destruction and the only one who could help him was gone from this world.
"You promised damn you!" he shouted at the ceiling. It sounded childish to make such an accusation, and it only enraged him further. He was weak. He was angry. He was alone.
He fell to the floor, cutting himself on the glass further. His fists clenched hard enough that his claws drew blood, coating his palms. He ran his hands down his face, staining the white streak on his face a dark red. It became streaked red as it mixed with the tears that poured down his face. Now he just rested on the floor, whimpering quietly in a pile of debris covered in his own blood and tears.
He might have lain there forever had he not remembered the scroll on the table in his kitchen. He hadn't even read it yet. Did he want to? Doing so would only tell him what he already knew. It wouldn't help him at all to read text explaining to him that James McCloud was gone forever. It would mention some bullshit about how he sacrificed himself for a greater good, but Fox didn't care about that. He didn't care if there was a greater good. The universe could wither away for all he cared at this point. His father wouldn't be back. That was all he wanted. How could some scroll give him that?
Yet he found himself rising to his lacerated feet. He still didn't bother to worry about the pain. It was irrelevant at this point to him. He slowly limped towards the stairs, no sound escaping him as he forced his injured body forward. Had his father been home, the sounds of the news would be echoing through the house, accompanied by the sizzling of a pan cooking breakfast. Now the house was as quiet as any mausoleum. The silence was almost tangible.
Fox went through the door at the top of the basement stairs that lead to the kitchen. He glanced towards the scroll sitting on the table where he left it. He drew a chair up and set himself down. The note however, he left untouched. His eyes never left it, nor did his lids ever block it from his sight. It was as if the thing would go away and turn this whole ordeal into a dream. Or maybe it would attack him if he let it out of his sight.
Finally he sighed and closed his eyes. He needed to see what was inside of this scroll. It would only solidify the fact that his father was dead in his mind, but it was also something he knew he had to do. He reached for the piece of gold leaf paper. The seal was easy to break with a light snick of his claws. The print before him was small, but legible.
"James McCloud lost his life on Monday, October 27th, 2144, at approximately 4:37 Cornerian Standard time on the planet Venom. The Royal Fusiliers Company C at the frontlines was holding a bridgehead called Anzio when they requested to be withdrawn. Their superior officers denied them permission to retreat, but asked Team Star Fox to assist the company for as long as they could. As James McCloud's team arrived, two battalions of Tiger class tanks engaged the Fusiliers. Star Fox began to open fire on the tanks below and held of the assault even while the Company was battered with heavy fire. The entire Company was destroyed however by the repeated mortar fire of the tanks. As the battle turned against them, Pigma Dengar, member of Star Fox, turned his fire upon his teammates. Peppy Hare was able to narrowly escape to deliver this report, but James McCloud was shot down. His Arwing plummeted fifteen hundred feet to the ground, and no ejection chute was spotted. The mission was not a failure however as Star Fox did buy enough time for reinforcements to arrive and drive back the offensive. On behalf of the Cornerian Military I extend my sincerest sympathies.
General Pepper
General Pepper"
Fox set the note down. The tears did not come anymore. He felt pain, but it was now focused. He knew what he had to do. Pigma still lived, and Andross, the mad leader of the Venomian armies, was the only one who could have enough coin to persuade the swine to give up his lucrative position.
He looked outside to see that the sun had risen. The light it brought reflected off of the coat of frost that had formed on the ground overnight. Soon, the morning heat would melt it, and the chill would be gone from the day.
His father had committed himself to restoring peace to the system. It wasn't done yet, and so Fox only had one choice.
Star Fox had to be reformed.
It was just before dawn, one miserable morning in Black '44
When the forward commander was told to sit tight
When he asked that his men be withdrawn.
And the Generals gave thanks,
As the other ranks
Held back the enemy
Tanks for awhile.
And the Anzio bridgehead
Was held for the price
Of a few hundred ordinary lives.
And kind old King George
Sent Mother a note,
When he heard
That Father was gone.
It was, I recall,
Form of a scroll
With gold leaf and all.
And I found it one day,
In a drawer of old photographs,
Hidden away.
And my eyes still grow damp,
To remember his Majesty
Signed with his own rubber stamp.
It was dark all around,
There was frost in the ground,
When the Tigers broke free.
And no one survived
From the Royal Fusiliers
Company C.
They were all left behind,
Most of them dead,
The rest of them dying.
And that's how the High Command
Took my Daddy
From me.
A/N: So this was my interpretation of how Fox reacted to news of his father's death. It was also a really good chance to use a song that fit well with the scenario. I really hope I painted a vivid image of Fox's pain and his determination after overcoming his sorrow.
The other thing I have to say is, sorry about the long hiatus. I've been in NY a lot lately, and I just got back from a camp as well. Now, to top things off, I'm moving pretty soon, so my computer will be inaccessible for a little while. I may be able to find some way to do things for brief moments afterwards, but the long dry spell is still going to stay. Don't worry. In the next few days I'll be releasing more, but after that, you'll have to wait a bit longer. Again.
-800M23