AUTHOR'S NOTE(S):
Okay, I'll just preface this right off the bat to make it clear: this story is really, really stupid. Let me explain...
Earlier in 2016, Sheppard Studios hosted a contest for humorous oneshots, and before I started working on the story that I eventually entered (it did win 2nd, so it may have been a good idea), I started putting this abomination together before I cancelled it due to it being so unspeakably dumb that it was an insult to my own intelligence.
However, seeing that it was getting close to Halloween, I figured I could repurpose it for the holiday and put it out there. Anyone who likes the kind of inanity in this story should probably check out my story Sierra Foxtrot, which contains content similar to this, albeit not quite as idiotic.
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The rain beat against the four Arwings' canopies as they sped over the vast Zoness ocean, en route to their target – a clandestine volcanic island that General Pepper claimed had been giving off some 'strange' energy signatures. The two patrols sent to investigate said signatures had disappeared without a trace; and not wanting to risk any more of his own men, he assigned the task to Fox, who accepted on behalf of his team with some hesitation.
In the distance, the central volcanic peak that marked the center of the suspicious island came into view. Through the driving rain and the mist that enveloped the ocean, it vaguely resembled a haunted warship poking through the ocean waves. Although none of Star Fox's four pilots said anything, an air of fearful trepidation hung over each of them. That is, until Slippy noticed a previously opened bag of cheese puffs to his right and dropped several of the yellow-orange snacks into his mouth.
Slippy's cheesy crunching filled Fox, Falco, and Krystal's headsets with disgusting clarity that allowed them to hear the slimy smacking noises that went along with each crunch.
With a deadpan voice, Fox asked, "Slippy, are you seriously eating cheese puffs in your Arwing again?"
"Myep," Slippy mumbled, his mouth full of yellow crumbs. You gwot a pwobwem wiff vhat?
"Yes, I do," Fox replied, exasperation in his voice. "Two scout groups have already disappeared in this area. This is serious business, Slippy. Now, team – before we get any closer to the island, do any of you have any problems with your Arwings?"
"Yeah," Falco grumbled, "My G-diffuser's acting funny again."
Fox sighed. "Well, tell it that it needs to shape up and start acting serious."
"Very funny, Fox. You know, you don't have to be such a tight-ass about this. All we've got to do is fly over the island a few times; and if we see anything, we'll land and check it out on foot. Seems simple enough."
Krystal's voice came over the team's headsets. "I'm afraid it's not going to be that easy. I'm sensing faint thought patterns from that island. I have a bad feeling about this."
Slippy finished munching his cheese puffs and asked, "What kind of thwooot patterns are they?"
Krystal let out an indignant gasp and retorted, "Hey! Stop making fun of my accent!"
"Your occent?" Slippy chuckled.
"Seriously, Slippy – stop it," Krystal demanded. "And for the record, I can't tell what kind of thought patterns are coming from that island; but they feel like…"
"Like what, Krystal?" asked Fox.
"I don't know. I can't pick up anything that makes sense – it's all garbled. The only thing I'm hearing that sounds like anything is 'brains.'"
"Yep. We're dealing with zombies here," Slippy declared. "Lucky for us, I'm the resident zombie expert. I even have a badge to prove it. Don't worry, gang – I've got this."
Fox cut him off. "Slippy, shut up. Zombies aren't real. They only exist on TV so that people can fantasize about the end of the world without having to pin the blame on other people groups. There's got to be a real explanation for this."
"I still say zombies," Slippy mumbled.
As the team drew closer to the island, its natural formations and geography came more clearly into view. Lush jungles covered the ground. Wherever trees were absent, swamplands stood out. A snaking river split the island in two, and the only way across it seemed to be a rickety rope bridge. On the side of the central volcano – complete with smoke rising from the top, Fox spotted a tiny opening and a barely distinguishable dirt pathway leading up to it. In addition, four gray buildings stood near the base of the volcano. From their appearances, they seemed to have been built within the last year.
"There's definitely something down there," said Fox. "Let me contact General Pepper and find out what he wants us to…"
Suddenly, all of the electronics in all four Arwings failed in unison. Their engines fizzled out, their avionics systems went blank, and all control vanished. With no power, the fighters dove towards the ground, racing towards the forlorn island at a breakneck speed. None of them heard each other's screams, but all four members of Star Fox could feel the panic of their fellow teammates. As the tree canopy grew large in his sights, Slippy closed his eyes and waited for the end.
+ 0 +
Slippy's eyes wavered, trapped between the darkness of unconsciousness and the grim light of the rainy Zoness day. The driving rain pelted against the reinforced glass surface nearby. At that moment, he remembered what had happened and snapped his eyes open. He found himself wedged into his Arwing's cockpit on the forest floor with massive trees surrounding him in every direction. The glass in his canopy bore a spiderweb crack, which only began to describe the damage to his Arwing in general. As before the crash, none of his electronics activated when he reached for them. Fortuitously, his fighter had landed right side up, because otherwise, he could have easily been killed in the crash.
The realization dawned on him that he was alone. He looked around at the forest through the water beads on his canopy and saw nothing indicating the presence of his teammates. He took a deep breath. Then, he pulled the manual release lever for his canopy and clambered out of the Arwing. He swung his stubby legs over the frame where the glass had released, but his feet slipped on the side of the craft. He plummeted all of six feet to the ground, landing with the sickening crunch of broken bones.
Fortunately, the broken bones did not belong to him – rather, they belonged to a large constrictor snake that had the misfortune of being in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time. Slippy's overweight figure crashed down butt-first onto the reptile's long body, snapping innumerable bones and paralyzing it. For a second, Slippy thanked his lucky stars that there had been a cushion for his landing before he realized what he was sitting on. With a shriek, he leaped up, banging his head on his Arwing's smashed aileron.
His head spun for a moment, then normality returned; and along with it, the grim reminder that he was on his own in zombie-infested, hostile territory. At least, he wanted to believe that he was in zombie-infested territory. Looking over the wreckage of his Arwing, he realized that he would have to find another way off the island. He pried open the small cargo hold on the side of the nose cone and pulled out its contents – a black ballistic handgun with three fifteen round magazines, a water canteen, a small backpack, and a bag of cheese puffs.
He scanned the area, then shoved the handgun and its holster onto his belt, with the backpack and its contents finding a spot on his back. Then, the volcano at the center of the island emitted a deep, throaty rumble that shook the ground and the trees nearby. When the sound of the rain had reclaimed its spot as the loudest thing in the area, a high-pitched squeal filled the air.
"Testes, testes! 1,2!" a shrill, grating voice shouted, the sound coming from a distant set of high-powered speakers that created an annoying echo throughout the forest. "A-ha! Welcome to my island, Slippeh! Oh, don't be surprised that I know your name. After all, if I'm intelligent enough to lure you to my impenetrable fortress and get my dirty little fingers on your precious teammates, I'm more than smart enough to know who you are! Or, I could have just read the Arwingpedia page, but I digress. B…b…but anyway, I bet you're wondering what I'm doing with your friends now that I have them in my grasp. They're definitely not locked away inside my volcanic stronghold in the 'special detainment area.' No sir…definitely not there. Oh – I've gotten sidetracked once again. Silly me. You know, I'd love to explain what I'm going to do to your teammates, but that would spoil the surprise. Hmm…you know what? I'll make you a deal – I'll tell you all about it if you can survive the Forest of the Flying Dead, filled with a thousand little surprises that'll brighten your day even more! Now, good luck! Toodle doo!"
The obnoxious voice cut out with another ear-splitting round of feedback, then the speakers went silent.
Slippy shook his head. "I guess that explains what happened to the others. At least I know where they are now. I just have to get to that volcano. But what did that guy mean by 'Forest of the Flying Dead?'
As if on cue, an ominous humming filled the air, rising above the sound of the falling rain. In the distance, a swarm of large bees lazily buzzed towards him. The sound of their wings, however, bore little resemblance to that of traditional bees. No – not at all. In this case, it sounded more like 'brrrrrraaaainnnnzzzzzz.'
He saw the angry insects bearing down on him, dodging the raindrops with freakish precision. His eyes widened. He looked down and saw the paralyzed python at his feet. He had an idea. He reached down. He started too many sentences with 'he.' He grabbed the python by the tail and lashed it upwards, twirling it around like a whip. When the snake whistled in the wind, he unleashed it and threw it towards the swarm. The large serpent tore through the bees, splattering a third of their ranks.
Slippy's eyes widened again. He had only managed to anger the zombees even more. Setting aside their attempts to dodge the rain, the bees picked up speed and roared towards him.
He took off running into the nearby forest, racing between the trees in hopes that the giant bees would somehow be unable to follow him. A glance over his shoulder confirmed his fears. The insects continued to bear down on him. He doubled back and headed north, towards the central volcano. He recalled seeing the river that split the island in half and wondered how he would be able to cross it without being swarmed by the zombees.
Suddenly, he had a brain wave, as the Brits call it. As the sound of 'brrrrrraaaainnnnzzzzzz' grew louder in his ears, he pulled his backpack over his shoulders and unzipped it. His fingers rifled through the pack until they found the bag of cheese puffs stored within.
"Everybody loves cheese puffs – even Krystal," he thought.
The bees continued to pick up speed.
Slippy opened the bag.
The bees grew closer.
Slippy dug his right hand into the bag, grasping a handful of cheese puffs. Then, he tossed them over his shoulder at the zombees, not looking back to see if it had any effect. To his amazement, the bees swarmed around the discarded snacks, hovering over them and collecting the golden cheese as if it had been honey from the gods.
Panting from exertion, Slippy broke through the trees and found himself standing on the bank of the river that split the island in half. Ahead of him lay a rickety rope bridge, precariously held together with two thick strands of rope that looked both rotten and corroded from years of abuse – even though the other buildings on the island looked far newer than that. Interesting…
On cue, the distant speakers squealed again, this time more loudly than before.
"Oh! I see that you have pacified my zombees. Most impressive, I do say. Buuuut, I'm afraid that you'll come no further. You see, that rope bridge in front of you has a strict weight limit of 'less than you weigh, fatty!' I dare you to step on that thing. Do it! Oh – I bet that you think that since you're a frog, it's no big deal if you fall in the water, right? Well, I've got news for you! That river ends in a two hundred foot waterfall! Good luck surviving that, Slippeh!"
Slippy's eyes wandered to a set of smooth stones that stuck out from the surface of the raging river, conveniently arranged in a straight line with only two feet between each of the rocks. While the annoying voice continued to rant, he hopped across the stones and set foot on the other side of the river.
"Hahaha! You'll never approach me! Why, I'm…WHAT?! Dammit! Ooh – you're going to regret that, because now I'ms abouts to gets seriouss. Watch…your…back…Slippeh…"
Having crossed over the river, Slippy saw the massive central volcano reaching into the skies in the distance. Over a half mile separated him from the mountain where his teammates were being held; but before he could reach it, he knew that he would have to pass through the quadrant of buildings in front of it. The concrete structures acted as a makeshift camp, with a narrow dirt road running between the two buildings on the right and the two on the left. Searchlights stood on both sides of the path, and in the distance, Slippy saw the fuzzy, faint outlines of armed guards.
The trees began to grow more and more sparse as he neared the camp. Then, the speakers blared once again. This time, the volume level seared Slippy's ears, forcing him to cover them.
"Say, I made a promise, didn't I? Well, since you thwarted my zombees and crossed my insurmountable rope bridge – well actually, you cheated, but I don't judge – I think you've earned the right to know what I'm going to do with your teammates. For starters, the bird – I think I'll pluck out his feathers one by one and use them to stuff my handspun silk pillowcases. For the lovely Krystal, I shall dress her up in revealing outfits and force her to pose in compromising positions. Then, I'll click off a few pictures and upload them to my DeviantArt page! HAHAHA! What do you think of that, Slippeh? Oh – I almost forgot about you. Let me see…I'm simply going to kill you since no one likes you and because you don't seem to be good for anything other than letting your guard down. Oh, and putting up those stupid shield meters for enemy bosses when it would be just as easy to shoot their obvious weak points until they blow up!"
Slippy gritted his gums – as if that was technically possible – as the speakers powered off. His eyes followed the dirt path at his feet, all the way up to the four-building compound. Thanks to the ever-present commentator and his military grade speakers, Slippy knew that every guard in the area would be looking for him. In fact, he felt surprised that none of them seemed to be hunting him down at the moment.
He examined the area around the compound. Thick trees shrouded the sides – too thickly for him to have a prayer at passing through them. He considered the possibility of flanking the forested area itself, but the more he looked at his situation, the more he realized that passing through the compound was his only option.
His eyes scoured the area for anything that could be used as cover or as a diversion until he saw it—a soggy cardboard box with the top peeling off. Nevertheless, it looked intact enough for use. Looking ahead at the compound, he darted across the dirt road and grabbed the box. The side displayed the logo of a child's red wagon. Why that was on this island, he had no idea; but at any rate, he saw a minuscule window of opportunity for slipping—hehe, get it? Because his name's Slippy? Yeah, that was dumb—past the guards.
He crouched, then pulled the box over himself and began his slow journey towards the compound. Never before had two hundred yards never seemed so long. He figured that by the time he would reach the compound—let alone sneak past the guards—Falco would be bald and Krystal would be wearing a transparent fishnet tank top. Actually, he rather liked the idea of that.
For a moment, Slippy wondered what had become of Fox. The ever-annoying owner of the island's ludicrous speakers had yet to state what he planned to do with the vulpine, although Slippy had a feeling that his fate would be worse than Krystal's if he failed to rescue him in time.
Only able to see out of his cardboard box through the tiny hole intended for use as a grip point, he stumbled along the muddy road. Then suddenly, he hit something.
"GWAAA!" he shouted, attempting to stand up but bringing his box with him. Unable to see anything, he wobbled around, reaching for the sides of his box in a pathetic attempt at removing it from his upper body. As he flailed, he accidentally stepped over his own legs and fell on his side with the box still over his head. A small puddle of mud splattered up as he fell onto the dirt road.
At that moment, feminine laughter broke out nearby.
Furious and ready to strike, Slippy yanked the box off of himself and stood up, only to find himself face to face with a pearl white feline with light purple fur accents that failed to look even remotely natural. The woman wore a rain-soaked gray uniform identifying her as a member of one of the Zoness-based teams that had been sent to the island before Star Fox had. However, the cat's uniform hugged the contours of her body far more closely than it had any right to. In fact, Slippy wondered how she had managed to put it on in the first place, or rather, how the Zoness military ever allowed her to have it.
Probably fanservice. Yeah, definitely fanservice.
Undeterred by her appearance, Slippy looked towards the four-building compound and asked the woman, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
"My name's Bianca," the feline replied, giving her soaked, violet-dyed hair a quick toss. "You must be 'Slippeh.'"
"Yeah, well, close enough," Slippy grumbled.
The volcano in the center of the island let out another deep rumble that shook the island to its core, although the resulting tremor did no damage. Bianca looked up into the rainy sky, then explained, "The rest of the team I was part of is dead. I've got to get off this island, but the boss's skeleton guards are too much for me to take care of by myself. Can you help me?"
Slippy placed his hands on his hips. "I might be able to help, but my first priority is to rescue the rest of my team from whoever owns this place."
Bianca's face drained of color, even though it was white to begin with. I'm not really sure how that works in a furry story, but it's a standard literary description trope, so whatever. "It's not worth it," she insisted with a shake of her head, "They're probably dead already. Emperor Kalamalazuma is a cutthroat bastard."
Suddenly, the island's speakers erupted into ear-searing sound once again. "A fact that I take great pleasure in! I'm sure you'll find out what I mean soon, Slippeh!"
"Kalamalazuma? What kind of stupid name is that?" Slippy asked Bianca.
"I don't know," Bianca whined, "I just need to get out of here. Please—anything you can do to help would make me so happy."
Slippy looked off to the side and placed a finger on his lips. "Hmm…I'll tell you what—if you help me free my teammates, I'll do everything I can to get you off this island. Deal?"
"Deal, but I telling you—they're dead already," Bianca answered. "I think know where to find a back entrance to Kalamalazuma's lair. I saw it and was about to go in earlier, but then the skeleton guards saw me and I had to run for my life. If you can help me take care of them, we might be able to get in."
"Okay," said Slippy. "What's the plan?"
"How about you distract the guards while I run past them? Then, I'll hit them from behind."
Slippy frowned. "Uh huh. So I'll be your meat shield, huh? Nice."
"Do you have a better idea?" Bianca retorted.
"Well, no…"
"Good, then. It's settled. Let's move!"
Before Slippy could protest, Bianca jogged towards the four-building complex. Between the buildings, four skeletons marched in symmetrical lines that looked pre-programmed. Two of them carried baseball bats as their weapons, while the other two held rusty swords that, while dull, still looked like something that Slippy did not want to be speared with. Even when Bianca stepped to within a hundred yards of the complex, none of the skeletons reacted to her.
Slippy sprinted to catch up with Bianca and came to a stop beside her. "Um…why aren't they attacking us? We're right here."
"I don't know," Bianca answered. "But when they do attack, they're almost unstoppable."
"Oh, great. That gives me so much confidence," Slippy remarked.
Taking a quick breath, Bianca sprinted towards the closest building—a square, concrete shack to the right of the main dirt road. "Protect me, Slippeh!"
"No, wait! Stop!"
The instant Bianca neared the first building, all four skeletons locked onto her and raced towards her with bats and swords raised high. Inexplicably, each of them screamed out a battle cry despite being, well, you know, skeletons.
Slippy shook his head in disbelief. Nevertheless, he had his end of the deal to hold up. He pulled his pistol out of its holster on his waist and took aim at one of the bat-wielding skeletons. A shot rang out from the gun, and a single bullet sped towards the skeleton. The bullet screamed through its cranium, emerging on the other side with almost as much momentum as it had before. The first skeleton's head blew apart, and the rest of its body fell to the ground in a pile of bones. The bullet, unimpeded by the headshot, crashed into one of the sword skeletons' sternums and shattered it. The undead mass of bones split in half, only for both its legs and torso to sprint and crawl towards Slippy.
"AAA!" Slippy screamed, suddenly losing all composure and running towards one of the concrete shelters to the left. The noise attracted the attention of the other two skeletons and diverted them away from Bianca. The courageous heroine that she was, the feline took the opportunity to run for her life between the four buildings.
The two remaining skeletons gave chase, bones clicking and splatting against the muddy ground. Cursing his stubby legs, Slippy ran for dear life. Up ahead, he saw the volcano looming large above him. A steep, grassy slope led up to it. Bianca raced up the slope, then turned to the left towards a narrow path leading downhill towards the nearby beach.
"Come on! This way!"
"That doesn't look like the way into the volcan…"
Slippy lost the ability to finish his sentence when out of nowhere, a red wagon piloted by another skeleton barreled down the grassy hill towards him, literally flying over the bumps on the slope. He figured that the red missile had to be traveling at least thirty miles an hour. He had no time to leap for cover. But he did have time to jump. Two feet of air was all that his short frame could provide him with.
It was not enough to avoid the incoming skeleton wagon.
The wagon screamed between Slippy's legs, but the skeleton's skull slammed into Slippy's nether region. Strangely—or not strangely at all—it had little effect on him. Landing on his feet with a splash on the saturated grass, he pursued Bianca.
Then, he looked down.
The skeleton's severed head sat between his hands, glaring at his face with hollow, nonexistent eyes.
"AAAAAAAAAA!"
He hurled the skull over his shoulder like it was a nuclear hot potato. Then, he looked over his shoulder to make sure he had properly disposed of it. Just before it left his vision, the skull righted itself on the ground and stared at him once again.
"Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit."
Limbs flailing, he barreled down the narrow trail in pursuit of Bianca until the path ended in a beach interspersed with black rocks. Bianca stood on the beach next to a rickety wood canoe lay that lay just out of reach of the tide. When Slippy moved towards her, the feline shoved the boat into the waves and climbed into it.
"What are you doing?" Slippy shouted.
"Can't you see? We have to get out of here! It's the only way!" Bianca replied from the boat.
Slippy took a look towards the all-seeing volcano, then responded, "You said you'd help me save my friends! You tricked me!"
"I'm doing you a favor! Come on! Get in! Those skeletons will be on the beach any second now!"
The amphibian paused for thought. Then, he hardened his expression and declared, "No—my friends need me."
Looking back at him as if he had broken her heart, Bianca screamed, "Forget your friends! They're already dead! This is the only way out of here!"
Slippy crossed his arms. "Nope. Good luck out there, traitor."
Bianca shook her head before she turned the canoe around and started paddling out to sea. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath.
From the beach, Slippy kept his arms crossed and watched as Bianca's canoe floated farther and farther from the shoreline until over a hundred feet separated it from him. Then, a colossal shark leaped out of the water to the right of the canoe, its mouth agape with rows of razor sharp teeth. The gargantuan fish arced over the top of the boat before splashing into the water on the other side with hardly a ripple. When Slippy looked at the canoe again, he saw no trace of Bianca.
Then, the island's ear-rending speakers screeched to life again. This time, due to Slippy's proximity to the volcano, he felt his head throbbing in pain as the sound waves scorched his eardrums. "HAHAHA! What a buffoon! She should have known that there is no escape from the great Emperor Kalamalazuma and his unassailable island fortress! What do you think of that, Slippeh?"
"I think you need to turn your speakers down!" Slippy yelled.
"What was that? Up, you say? Okay, then." The speaker operator reached for volume knob and cranked it to the right—so far to the right, in fact, that every breath he took echoed through his microphone and blasted the airwaves outside with a wall of feedback.
Cringing, Slippy covered his ears. This had to end.
He looked up the hill where he had come from and saw a small, black hole in the side of the volcano. It looked just large enough to be an entrance. He stopped for a moment to ponder his options, but the screaming feedback playing through the speakers ended the pondering in the blink of an eye. Yelling at the top of his lungs, he sped up the hill towards the entrance. As he retraced the narrow uphill trail, the two skeletons that had been chasing him appeared in his path.
As if he did not even notice them, Slippy barreled through the tiny gap between them. The skeletons swung their weapons at him, but instead of hitting him, they hit each other. Both skeletons crumbled into bone piles, unable to pursue the panicking frog any longer.
Slippy charged up the grassy hill towards the distant entrance with boots sloshing water in all directions. After a minute, he reached the top of the hill and stopped short of the black hole in the side of the volcano. The entrance looked just barely tall enough for a normal person to fit through.
He crept inside, ready for anything because he figured that just about anything that might have been considered remotely conceivable would be lying in wait for him.
To be continued...