"Snow-Blind"
By: The Guest Calypso
Disclaimer: This story, featuring an original storyline, is a fan-fiction set in the Star-Fox universe that belongs to the writer and only the writer. Any likeness to other characters or persons is completely coincidental. Do not post this story on any other site without explicit consent from the writer. This writing is for entertainment purposes only, no monetary gain whatsoever.
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Prologue:
Perma-Frost, a massive research complex turned makeshift home, houses thousands of denizens from the frigid and unforgiving conditions of the planet they research, and call home. The planet Fichina bore witness to one of mortal-kinds worst characteristics thousands of years ago, and thus, the planet became a scientific curiosity; shrouded in a constant winter, the ecosystem nearly dead from lack of vegetation and frigid temperatures, and a near impossible explanation as to why. Little is known about the planets history, most of it was frozen away deep under the surface; what scattered and little information has been found, tells the tale of a premature Armageddon wrought by an unknown enemies' hubris for control and lust for power, taking with it the planets' natural inhabitants and most of its ecosystem.
Many outfits, such as the Cornerian Empire, flocked to the planet in droves, looking to establish a military staging ground and conduct research on the frozen planet.
Decades have passed. Corneria still maintains a number of military bases on its surface, names of prominent persons have graced the planet with their boots, their multi-million dollar facilities and homes dot the more habitable zones all over Fichina's surface and yet, nothing more was ever found. Sponsors pulled the plugs on expositions; with the funds drying up, those same famous creatures went home with empty hands—and emptied pockets. The ones lucky enough to barter passage off left behind their facilities to be reclaimed by unrelenting winds and snow. Other's couldn't afford the luxury of buying their way off the planet; hence starting the single largest and most permanent settlement; lovingly dubbed 'Perma-Frost' by its denizens, in reference to the permanently frozen ground the facility was built and maintained upon.
Life in Perma-Frost was quiet, until a lone figure emerged from the howling grey, and turned life on the facility onto its head. A figure, arriving with no explanation, speaking only seldom, and no known name of, earned a moniker that caused silence to all tongues in hearing distance when ushered.
North, the Tundra Wraith.
Since his subtle and abrupt appearance a year ago, North has become the speculation-machine of all in Perma- Frost, the Lylat System and beyond. Where did he come from? Why is he here? Is he a ghost; representing the original creatures who inhabited this planet eons ago? Is he even real? Because of the nature of his appearance, and his uncooperative attitude to answer any questions, he has also become a very interesting and sought after individual. Yet any who attempt to contact him always turn up empty handed. Or for the folks who didn't wish to communicate, but to take North for their own selfish reasons, had a tendency to disappear into the unforgiving tundra in pursuit, never to be found again. North is tenacious, and well trained, that is now obvious. So now, the newest question that has come to light from such attempts to take him is:
Who is he?
Because of the inundating rumors that swirl about North like a blizzard, and the fact that death seems to follow his every move, everyone has learned to keep a safe distance from him, out of sheer fearful superstition. So it comes with no surprise, that he hasn't been caught even after a year when trouble landed in Perma-Frost. Recent events however, have come to light; someone very important and very powerful has come from afar, flying to this little back-water system and taking an interest in the enigmatic character. For what purpose, remains to be seen. North's tenacity will soon be put to the test as he runs for his life from a persistent enemy; an enemy that wants to take North for their own secret agenda, and succeed where others' have failed, and to prove a point.
That North, the Tundra Wraith can and will bleed.
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Chapter 1:
Today was a particularly dreary day on the snowball; gusts of wind that could reach eighty miles-an-hour tore across the tundra with reckless abandon, blotting out the star with its ferocity and buffeting any poor soul or structure that had the misfortune of being in the vicinity. The one soul that dared to trek in these conditions leaned heavily into the winds, wrapped in a thick but tattered cloak, the beings head tucked down to lower the chance of whiplash from a sudden change in wind direction. Progress was slow, with each fatigued foot fall causing the equally heavily insulated boot to sink further into the icy surface with each labored step. At the same time a boot was relinquished of its icy prison to trundle its owner along, prominent footprints were seemingly buried instantaneously, any sign of a trail or the notion of a body moving through the area disappeared with the furious pace the snow brushed over any sort of cavity.
The soul continued on however, determined to reach a safe haven not far, though seemingly impossible to reach at the same time. Snow crunched under boot, a deafening sound that seemed to over-power the roaring winds that relentlessly battered against the figure. He never faltered, not for a moment even, remaining steady in his careful and constant march forward, timing each step between gusts to make the most of the slow progress.
For the briefest moment he glanced up, a glimpse catching the attention of the sharp eyes shielded behind tinted goggles. It was a miracle coming true in these cold times and desperate times; a little flash of light flitted in and out of sight, signifying a structure, meaning civilization hunkered down for warmth within. The figure lowered his head once again, trudging forward with the slightest hint of determination in his stride. Standing under a grey, unassuming wall of metal the wind's strength was lessened, letting the figure effectively look for a possible opening to the mass of sanctuary, spotting it under the yellow haze of a single bulb, precariously swinging in the wind not far from where he stood. A singular panel stood out against the flat structure of wall, and next to it, a door. The small electrical switch struggled to function in the extreme cold, bleating pathetically when a digit mashed the key for open. Ice crushed under hydraulic pressure as the door hesitantly slid aside, allowing the figure into a rotund processing area; a heavy security door blocked any progress forward. It was here, he shook loose the snow that clung to his garments, while a camera mounted to the low slung ceiling whirred to life as the door slid close again behind him.
A voice crackled over an external mic on the opposite wall.
"Got any guns on yer person?" A gruff voice echoed in the small space. The figure lowered his hood; face still shrouded by a full head protecting mask and goggles, and shook his head at the camera. "Come lookin' for trouble?"
Again, the figure shook his head.
"Then come on in."
A klaxon rang out, and the security door parted, allowing access to the small facility. Inside, the area opened up in a large square commons area, containing evenly spaced benches, brushed stainless steel walls and durable diamond plated flooring, with the odd placement of worn rugs and rubber mats. Information and maps stood on kiosks on two different ends of the sizeable room. Surprisingly, the place was alive with bodies milling about. Creatures of all walks of life shuffled to and fro; disappearing into a doorway or sitting down on benches, talking to each other or smoking a cigarette. Not a single soul paid mind to the extra citizen from the cold, who read the welcome sign hanging above the security door:
Welcome to Le-grange Outpost: Alpha.
Scratched into a battered piece of wood, another home-made sign hung below it, adding:
A.K.A: Perma-Frost. Aloha, welcome to a little slice of paradise!
A quick glance at a directory, and a quick walk through milling denizens later, he entered a small establishment called "St. Bernard's", indicated by a LED sign scrolling above the doorway. The smoky, oppressive atmosphere was thick like molasses, yet the place was sparse of populace. A small bar stood at the far end of the establishment, each of its stools empty. Four separate tables filled the open floor between the doorway and bar, while more benches lined each side, with one or two creatures sitting upon them in the dark, enjoying their loneliness in peace. A short, stocky male covered in disheveled brown fur and sporting a thick off-white thermal shirt stood behind the bar, rearranging spirits on a shelf.
The sound of a stool skidding drew the bartender from his spirits, seeing the hooded fellow quietly slide up to the bar and rested his elbows against the worn surface, before he approached with a short glass and a bottle, but remained silent. The new-comer didn't say a word or raise his gaze, other than holding up two gloved digits for the barkeep. The stocky bartender nodded, poured the stranger a drink and walked away, disappearing into a back room.
The calm, quiet atmosphere was shattered shortly after the figure raised his glass and began to shift his protective mask to allow him a drink. Three heavily armored creatures marched in, idly chatting amongst themselves and selected a table farthest from the cloaked figure, but paid no mind to his presence. Reflexively the figure put his mask, and glass of alcohol, back down, but remained seated and passively listened in as the new members to the bar shifted into their seats.
One of them grumbled, wrestling a helmet off his head, revealing a Canine possessing a short white coat, short muzzle, floppy ears and a shorter Mohawk atop his gaunt head, continued to complain as he scratched a particular spot behind one ear. He spoke low, too low for the hooded figure to hear anything other than a couple words in a broken conversation. "…Better come back...Can't wait till this storm blows over… we find this guy…"
The member next to the talkative one hissed for silence. He cuffed the noticeably younger member on the back of his head. This one had noticeably large, sharp canine teeth as he growled, and an angular face covered in black and brown spotted fur. The white canine mumbled an apology, before the table fell silent. Anxiously, they shifted in their seats.
The barkeep returned from the other room, in his hand was a steaming bowl of soup, and with it he went to the stranger tucked away in the corner. To this, the three uneasy soldiers watched intently as the barkeep placed the soup down, took two white pieces of paper from the stranger's gloved hand without a word and walked towards the occupied table.
The soldiers' eyes stayed on the figure in the corner. They began to whisper amongst themselves, raising a discreet finger to direct someone's attention, or used a subtle nod of their head. They shifted in their seats more.
"Ration stamps are the staple currency 'round here, gents." The barkeep stated, speaking for the first time in twenty minutes. "You don' have any, then you don' get nothin' to eat er' drink, understood?"
The air manage to thicken even more, tension adding to the mix of smoke and sweat lingering in the air, as no-one spoke or acknowledged the barkeep had said anything, or even approached. All eyes remained locked in the corner.
"Hey, you," a burly Lupine with charcoal- fur, the only member of the table sitting with his back to the figure boomed. "With the shady cloak on, in the corner, you got a name?"
The cloaked figure didn't move or say anything. The sound of a pin could be heard dropping.
The barkeep glanced towards the character the Lupine's question directed towards. The corner of his mouth made the slightest agitated twitch, under the thick mustache on his lip. "He's jus' a regular." He interjected, glaring back down at the soldier. "He's not lookin' fer any trouble, got it? Now, you orderin' anythin'—"
"No."
"Then do me a favor- get ta' hell out' ta my bar—"
Everyone at the table abruptly stood, chairs skidded along the tiled floor, while the Lupine roughly shouldered past the bartender, and his two subordinates took places on either side of the much shorter barkeep. They glared down at him, paralyzing him in place while their apparent leader took cautious steps toward the cloaked stranger.
"I asked you a question stranger, or is this little man going to continue defending you?" The leader looked towards the other two, giving them a slight nod. They started cackling, as they shoved the laughably shorter creature around like a furry ball. "Too proud to speak, or too cowardly, I wonder?"
"Easy," the figure growled, noticeably squeezing his shot glass a little harder. "Like the guy said, I'm just a regular, nothing more. Not looking for any trouble."
The Lupine stopped, a couple feet separating him and the stranger. "Well, that's unfortunate." He sneered. "Because you've managed to find trouble- North."
If one watched his reaction closely, North turned to face is aggressor minutely.
"What, surprised I figured it out?" The sneer managed to grow wider on the wolf's face, revealing more teeth. "I had a sneaking suspicion. It was made a little easier by the extra appendage swinging behind you too…"
North clenched his jaw, secretly berating his carelessness to keep the snow-white tail tucked under his cloak. It seemed to twitch in agitation of its own accord.
"Nobody on this frozen rock is as pearly-white as you, North, a real pain when you need to blend in, eh?" His compatriots began to snicker behind their leaders back at North's expense.
"Okay," North breathed, barely keeping frustration out of his words, he began discreetly flexing his fist out of sight. "What do you want?"
A cold metal object pressed into the side of North's head abruptly, followed by an intimidating click of a safety disengaging. "You…Alive, specifically." The Alpha pressed the muzzle a little harder against North's temple. "But it's not a requirement."
At the sign of a firearm in open sight, any patrons that lingered quickly got up and ran for the exit.
Unfazed by the large caliber weapon pressed against his temple, North coolly questioned his aggressor. "What if I refuse to cooperate?"
"The barmaid over there will be cleaning brains off the wall." The wolf growled, his cocky demeanor gone in an instant. "Someone really important wants your hide, badly enough to make you worth double if you're brought back alive. I'm not picky, even dead your reward could set me up for life."
"So what's holding you back?"
The Alpha seemed to ponder on North's question for a moment, before his devilish grin returned in full force and his eyes grew dark. "Good point. Die, you freak-"
With the barrel of the cannon against his temple North had little, if any, chance of dodging the round. Yet in an impossibly quick movement, North slapped the wolf's hand away, still squeezing the magnum. The round meant for North's' head discharged into the wall behind its intended target, in the blink of an eye the wolf's arm, still gripping the cannon, was grabbed by North and pulled forward, pulling the wolf off balance and spilling soup in the process. Before the wolf knew what had happened, North struck against the back of the elbow, forcing it in the opposite direction it bent with a wet crack. The wolf yelped in anguish, but only for a moment, as North then delivered a punishing elbow of his own into the leader's nose. In a sickening crunch, the wolf gurgled once before gravity pulled his corpse onto the ground in a heap.
His subordinates merely blinked, still processing what had transpired as North slipped two sets of silvered Brass-Knuckles on, and took a fighter's stance and faced his aggressors. The farthest one reacted first, stepping back and cursing while reaching for a weapon on his side.
"Shit!"
The one closest to North, the black angular-faced Canine, had trouble pulling his side-arm from its holster as North charged at him. In a feeble attempt to defend himself, the Canine ditched trying to wrestle the pistol free, and instead swung a wide left hook, aiming for North's head. Instead he got a fistful of cloak as North ducked under the slow and sloppy punch. Tucked inside the Canine's defense North brandished his Silvered- Knuckles, and delivered a strong gut check. The air escaped his target in a grunt and hunched over from the blow, in that instant North threw his arm around the Canine's neck and flung himself backwards. Locked in a guillotine and falling fast, the canine had no time to react as he landed head-first onto unforgiving steel grating with a dull thud, and fall still.
It was this time North spotted the third and surviving member brandish his pistol, and fire. Two laser shots whistled past, while two more found their mark in the canine North used for cover. In his panicked state his aim was sloppy, but improving vastly as the shots rang out. Thinking quickly, and spotting the still holstered pistol on the leg of North's cover, he grabbed it, wrestled it in his targets direction and awkwardly fired it upside down with his small, gloved finger. Three squeezes of the trigger, two rounds found their mark, and the third member fell to the ground, his chest cavity smoldering.
With a moment of reprieve North struggled to push the dead weight of his cover off himself. The bulky canine was heavy to move with full armor on, which aided in his demise, but hindered the physically smaller North from escaping.
It seemed luck was not on North's side this day.
Without warning, a fourth member ran in, a powerful laser rifle at the ready at hearing a scuffle. The surprise fourth soldier gawked for a moment at the carnage, before spotting the culprit attempt to wriggle out from under one of his dead comrades.
North heard the boots clamber on the steel flooring, and turned his head in time to meet eye-contact with the rifle wielding soldier. A second later the rounds began to fly.
Thinking fast North heaved the body, still pinning him to the ground over on its side, creating a buffer between himself and certain death. The canine shuddered with each shot as round after round struck North's cover; himself huddled under the bulky frame and prayed none of the rounds made their way through. Agonizing seconds ticked by before the click of a depleted energy cell echoed in the now smoke thick atmosphere. The exact noise North had been anticipating. He wrestled free of his confinement with only a moment's hesitation.
The soldier cursed under his breath, staring at his rifle in bewilderment before remembering to eject the cell and force another one into the receiver to continue the barrage. As he fumbled with a fresh cell, he made the mistake of looking up and seeing the cloaked assassin sprint towards him. Bordering on the line between instinct and frustration, the soldier let the empty rifle swing uselessly on its sling and threw his arms out in front of him, taking reflexive steps back as North jumped at him. As North flew towards his next target, he mashed his thumbs on a hidden button on the close- quarters weapons gripped tightly in his fists. With a reassuring click a pair of razor sharp ceramic blades, one for each brass knuckle, locked into position; ready to inflict lethal stab wounds at the discretion of their owner.
The soldier's face contorted into fear at the sight and realization of his own demise, as North raised his fists above his head in a deadly, flying double-hammer blow. The two fighters clashed in a flurry of noise and grunts, hitting the floor. The blades finding their mark while they scraped against the thick polymer of armor, hesitating only a moment before the sharp edges, assisted by the kinetic force of North's jump, continued to cut through the ballistic protection, through thermal clothing, piercing flesh and finally reaching the vital organs underneath.
The soldiers outstretched arms did little to slow or stop the furry missile; instead they only managed to grasp a handful of cloak atop its head.
With life fading fast the soldier, living only for the moment on adrenaline and shock, never released the fistful of cloth. In a last effort of defiance, he tore at the cloth to reveal his killer. With breath becoming scarcer by the second, the soldier gazed at a snow-white furred fennec; cold, unremorseful, ice-blue eyes bored into the soldiers dulling ones with unrelenting ferocity. Small, white, sharp canines flashed for a moment as North curved his mouth into a deep frown and growled.
The canine coughed and gasped for air, managing to wheeze out his dying question to his reaper.
"W-what… in the dark pits of hell are you?"
As the last vestiges of life faded from the soldier, he finally fell still, his question remaining unanswered.
North wrenched the blades free from his enemy's chest; standing above his fallen foe he finally whispered his answer with little remorse to a corpse.
"Not even I know."
"I know what ya are."
North forgot about the plump little bar owner who ducked under a table at the first sign of confrontation, so when a voice reached his ears he spun around in surprise. It never showed in his expression, even when he looked down the barrel of a Relic shotgun.
"I had a feelin' ya were North, but never had th' proof." The bartender shifted uneasily on his feet, meeting North's cold blue gaze. "Call me a superstitious ole' fart, but I can' let you back in ma' bar, understand?"
To his demand, North remained silent and held his gaze. The lengthy silence became too much for the barkeep, so he continued to explain. "I- I ain't had a problem wit' you North, never have -as far as I'm concerned, you're jus' another poor bastard stuck on this rock wit' the rest of us. But there's truth ta' some of those rumors about ya. I can't have that in my bar. An' I really don' wanna start havin' a problem wit' cha'."
For the better part of a minute North did nothing but listen intently, when it was apparent the barkeep was done speaking and getting more restless with silence, did North finally break eye-contact. North sighed heavily. "I… I understand. I'll leave immediately."
The barkeep physically relaxed, his shoulders finally dropped with the weight of iron. "Thank ya…" He breathed, lowering his relic shotgun slightly. "Best hurry, th' Cornerians are gonna be here an' they ain't gonna be happy."
The barkeep flinched slightly when North crouched down, retrieving the tattered remains of his face protection from the vice grip of his fallen foe. He slipped the tired piece of cloth over his large triangular ears and pulled it down around his neck. He abruptly took off running out the front door. The barkeep however, rushed after North, stopping at the door to his establishment, only to see empty grey hallways in all directions. The wraith had faded.
In actuality, North had jogged around a corner, out of sight from any passerby's and donned his cloak before walking into a group of panicked civilians, becoming one with the crowd. As he blended into the cacophony of bodies, North began to mull over his dead aggressors; it was obvious whichever organization those mercenaries belonged to would find them failing to report in, send out a search party, and begin investigating. North didn't know how he had known this, but he estimated it would take about four hours before someone noticed something was amiss.
With an obvious reason to avoid attracting unnecessary attention for the moment prevalent on his mind, North marched a little faster, with more purpose, as he felt a terrible feeling grow in his gut:
Though it was far from the first time he had defended himself, he thought, and felt, this encounter was different. The lupine leader had mentioned someone; someone who took an obvious interest in North being alive and paid exorbitant amounts for his life. For what reason, North couldn't fathom, and dared not to.
Apparently, being left alone was not on anyone's agenda for North.
With growing curiosity, he decided to hide within Perma- Frost, and wait for more mercenaries. North was looking for answers, and maybe the next batch of gun-toting soldiers-for-hire would have some.
Quick A.N: This little project of mine has seen multiple revisions, re-works, and generally a bunch of re-everything since first being concocted. This third (or fourth?) and final (Maybe) version is set within the Star Fox universe, because I suck at coming up with original content.
That being said, I am excited to start a new adventure in a new universe, and have lofty goals for this. Reading, especially reviews, are greatly appreciated.
Stick around, this adventure train is just beginning!
Guest Calypso