Pain. Emptiness. Longing. Remorse. All these things tumbled and swirled through Fox's head. Fox was in bed, if the cold, hard bunk could be classified as such. Slowly he dragged himself out of the shadowy depths of sleep and into the cruel harshness of reality. He slowly swung his legs over the side, muttering curses as his head throbbed. He glanced up, his eyes squinting in the harsh artificial light of his little room. Yawning, he slowly stretched his body, working out the kinks and the aches. He stumbled over to the door of his room, and clasped the bars. Glancing at the ceiling of the hall outside, he read the marker painted on the overhanging sign.

It read, "Cell 9."

"Wonderful."

Fox let his arms rest on the cell bars, lost in thought. He struggled to regain his memories, as he shook off the intoxication of his sleep and whatever was in his system the night before. Fox let his mind wander over is life, as he had done so often in the last few years.

It has been 3 years since Fox kicked Krystal off of his team. Fox has spent most of his life since then reflecting on his mistake. His luck ran dry, and his life spiraled out of control. His good friend Slippy was killed in a freak accident while running his arwing through mandatory system checks. No one knew exactly what happened. The arwing exploded, wiping out any trace or any hint as to what went wrong. Secretly, Fox suspected murder, but no lead ever turned up.

Falco had gone his own way, yet again. Falco said it was because he was bored. Fox privately though that Falco simply wanted to settle down with Katt, but Falco insisted that his marriage to Katt was simply a byproduct of him leaving, not the cause. Either way, Falco left, and nothing Fox could do would lure him back.

Fox tried to bring in new faces, new pilots, but none of them panned out remotely as he had hoped. Try as he might, he could find no one even comparable with the piloting skill of Falco, nor the companionship and ability to fix and tinker like Slippy had. And certainly no one to replace to love he possessed for Krystal.

"Krystal..."

Fox let his mind wander back over to the blue vixen that had so captivated his heart.

"Had nothing, dammit, she still does." Fox muttered.

His nightmares were often populated with the day when he had removed her from the team. Her face face of shock and pain was engraved in his mind. Her voice, dripping with the hurt and betrayal she felt would still ring in his ears when he awoke. He couldn't shake his feelings for her, no matter how hard he would try. Fox sighed and rubbed his face.

"You sure screwed yourself there Fox. You probably screwed her life too, just like you screw up everything you touch."

It was then that he decided to disband his team. Not that there was really anything to disband. The only one that remained from his original team was ROB, and quite honestly Fox wasn't too sad to see him go. The cold, emotionless voice had worn down Fox's nerves as he had struggled through his life.

Fox had saved money, yes he had. He should have been able to settle down to at least a comfortable life, but had decided not to. He spent it on drink, drugs, and whatever pleasures he could find. He tried to forget, he tried to drown himself in his excess, but nothing helped. Soon he was just another insignificant blip in the universe, contributing nothing, but taking up a small spot in the world.

Fox ran out of money for his apartment. He ran out of luck with drugs, and had already been busted once for trying to buy cocaine in a sting operation. But that wasn't what got Fox in jail; no, that merely resulted in an uninterested warning.

Fox furrowed his brow, trying to recall what had gotten him in jail. His head throbbed like hell, but he welcomed the pain. It slowly came back to him, like water dripping from a faucet: He'd tried to rob a bank. Emphasis on tried.

"Would have worked too if that little shriveled skunk wasn't packing a blaster and a right hook." He muttered.

And now here he was. 20 years in jail, and no one gave a crap about it. He was another reject, another wasted life. No one seemed to remember what he had done in the past, no one seemed to care. He couldn't bail himself out, and he sure as hell couldn't think of anyone left who would. He'd rot here, and then he'd get out merely to once again live in the gutter until his desperation again drew him into rash actions.

Fox stood there for several hours. He couldn't feel his legs, and he didn't give a damn. His head hurt, but he ignored it. His life gave "screwed up" an entirely new meaning. Nowhere to go, no one to love, no one who cared, no ticket out.

No ticket out yet...

NOTE

'Ello everyone, I'm new here. I'm doing this as a stress relief and a getaway from school. I know it was a very very short first chapter, but it's more of an introduction than anything. A catchup on what's going down in poor Fox's life. I don't spend much time writing, I prefer to simply go over stories in my head, and putting it down in words is tough for me sometimes. My grammar isn't the best, nor is my writing ability. If you have time to leave a review, I'd much appreciate it. I welcome criticism, as long as it's constructive and not just a flame. Of course, if I shouldn't quit my day job I'd like to know that too. ^.^ Thanks for reading!

Also, thank you Bryan for pointing out that I misspelled Slippy's name. Missed it on my proofread.