Infiltrated, a star fox fanfic

The blast rang through the entire hangar as the staircase shook

The blast rang through the entire hangar as the staircase shook. A golden-orange vulpine looked around frantically, nearly losing his balance on the unstable structure from the explosion. He glanced at the massive hangar, housing the most top-secret aircraft that Cornerian Research and Development had in production. Bizarre and sleek-looking fighters lined up in rows cluttered the hangar, a metallic sheen from the walls, floors, and high ceiling reflecting brilliantly against the new prototypes. Fluorescent lights shone brightly down from the top of the hanger, illuminating the vulpine's surroundings enough to give him ease of visibility without blinding him from the light's reflection off the aircrafts.

Donned in his formal combat flight suit, the vulpine crouched low against the staircase, located in the southwest corner of the hangar leading up to the first floor of the research base. The vulpine, his dark green suit flexing with every move of his body, looked behind him at his avian teammate. Ensuring that the avian was still safe behind him, the vulpine continued his slow ascent up the stairs. He knew that another team of mercenaries were waiting for the pair, ready to barrage them with laserfire and casually resume infiltrating the information the base held. Only the fox's suit, lined with red shoulder armor, black and red combat boots, gray flight vest and gloves, and his own military training would be able to provide protection against his enemies.

Knowing that the same military training was responsible for getting the pair to this point in their mission, the fox didn't allow himself to speed up their slow, steady, and incredibly cautious pace. Even the slightest detection of their presence would yield an abrupt assault upon them, and he well realized that an unexpected attack like that would not only destroy any hopes of an accomplished mission but almost guarantee their death. The explosion heard earlier only proved his worries that the mercenary team was many in number, and were advancing quickly through the ranks of the heavily protected corridors on the first floor.

This is what the guards get for leaving this place in charge of electronic security.

Wishing he could strangle the ignorance of the Research and Development department's security measures, the fox pressed on as he quietly took one footpaw-step after another up the metal staircase. His avian teammate followed closely behind, the both of them crouching low so as not to be easily spotted by the cameras vigilantly scanning the hangar. Having taken note of the cameras' sequences, the fox was confident that they would be safe from discovery. Echoes rang above the pair as the enemy mercenaries continued their mysterious destruction of the research base. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes like hours, and hours like an eternity as the two climbed the scaffolding known as the staircase.

They eventually reached the top of staircase, and were roughly one hundred feet above the gigantic hangar. The fox blinked, and quickly looked around the hangar, almost gawking in awe at the incredible size of everything around him. He refocused on the mission at hand, and once again glanced behind him to check on his teammate. Moving mere micrometers at a time, the fox lifted his eyes up enough to scan for any signs of the enemy. Spotting nothing, he motioned to his teammate as the pair darted upright and scanned the first floor for mercenaries, expecting to be shot at immediately. A creepy emptiness ensued as absolutely nothing was seen on the first floor, besides the endless line of computers and electronics along the walls. Tile flooring clicked lightly underneath their military boots, presenting the only audible noise besides their steady breathing and adrenaline-pumped heartbeats. The blue-feathered avian, garbed in his usual red flight suit lined with gray trim, looked straight into the eyes of his vulpine leader and motioned for him to move into the hall. Giving one last check-over to the strangely deserted computer monitoring station, the mercenaries took a left turn and slowly entered the hall.

A quiet beep sounded behind the pair just as they had left the computer station. The vulpine's ears perked backwards as he froze in place, a new adrenaline rush surging through his body. Slowly, the vulpine turned and peered back into the room, noticing a red light flashing on one of the computers. His avian partner spotted the light as well, his keen falcon eyes never missing a single movement or tiny flash of light. The pair re-entered the electronic-filled room, humming once again filling their ears. As he cautiously approached the computer, the fox signaled to the falcon to keep watch. Focusing on the myriad of oddly-numbered and strangely placed controls of the computer, the vulpine attempted to dissect the particular function of the device and discover what exactly the flashing light indicated. Although he did have a substantial amount of knowledge in computers, his main expertise was not in research technology but rather navigational technology. He reached up to scratch his white-tufted head with a gloved handpaw, trying to figure out how exactly this particular machine operated.

Quickly glancing to ensure that his avian teammate was safe, he returned his attention to the computer in front of him. Standing in the center of the room, the computer he was working on was clearly one of the main computers. Other stations surrounded the walls behind the vulpine, various controls indicating that they served specific research-related functions. The room reminded him of a hologram broadcasting station, with a wide range of controls emitting the media waves throughout the Lylat System to its numerous planets and reaching hologram projectors to display images to billions of furs. Yet the vulpine knew quite well that this room was not a broadcasting station; it was a room that conducted top-secret research projects to test highly confidential experiments for the advancement of Corneria's military.

Considering the "confidentiality" of all this, one would tend to think they'd put more security on a place like this. Oh no, we don't do that…the fox mused, an irritated expression crossing over his face and wrinkling his white-furred muzzle. Annoyance and frustration followed, as he again set his focus to the computer that was so obviously trying to point out an error or alert. The monitor he stared at yielded nothing more to his bright, vigilant green eyes than a simple text scrolling, "Alert on second floor," over and over. Suddenly, the vulpine caught sight of a blue head bouncing about, and he turned to see his teammate trying to grab his attention. The bird gave a look that blatantly stated, "You stupid moron," before pointing to a large monitor directly behind the vulpine. The fox delivered a confused glance in return, and turned to face the direction his partner had indicated. Rolling his eyes in realization of the simplicity of the issue, he approached the large monitor that displayed the second floor.

He studied the image of what the red alert had been working to tell him. He carefully watched a live video feed of the entire second floor, supplied by the same type of security cameras he had disabled on the bottom floor of the hangar. Coming to the conclusion that the alert meant unauthorized, but somehow not intrusive, activity on the floor, he watched as multiple enemy mercenaries paced about, exploring the strikingly empty floor. The confused vulpine couldn't understand why the second floor was so utterly and totally deserted; absolutely nothing was present, besides the same generic metallic flooring, walling, and fluorescent lighting. Once again, the vulpine noticed the avian behind him growing impatient and trying to gain his attention. The blue-feathered bird, having seen enough of the activity on the bare second floor, motioned for his leader to resume their trek down the hall. Leaving behind the broadcasting-like computer station behind for, hopefully, a final time, the fox silently strode back to the falcon's side as they embarked into the hall.

The image of the black-garbed mercenaries stood within the vulpine's mind. Neither allegiance to political purpose nor species were revealed on the second floor, so he still did not have a complete idea of what he and his teammate were up against. Shoving such thoughts out of his mind, he pressed on through the metallic walls lighted by dim fluorescent bulbs placed haphazardly along the corridor. He spotted a series of stairs to their right as they continued forth, and slightly changed their direction to head for them. Although still extremely bewildered by the mere notion of a completely barren floor in a research center, the fox used the facts to his advantage. Rapidly thinking combat strategies through his calculating mercenary-oriented mind, he concluded that the best tactic would be to creep up the stairs and open fire with a machine gun upon the unknowing mercenaries. Even so, the expert mercenary did not know if reinforcements were somewhere else in the building; he would cross that bridge if he had to later.

Sweep and kill, he repeated to himself. Sweep and kill.

The pair repeated a similar stair-climbing tactic as before. This time, however, the vulpine sensed something horribly different, as if the two teammates were entering combat with a flawed plan. Realizing such a feeling hit the fox like a ton of bricks, yet it only lasted a few seconds before he forcefully shoved the ideas out of his mind. They were both highly skilled and well-equipped mercenaries, and had a high percentage of success. Unfortunately, the vulpine's military-trained brain could not completely shun the strange feeling, and so he settled for simply another level of cautiousness.

This is ridiculous. It's not like the plan is really that bad. It's only been done a thousand times, and a thousand times again.

The feeling changed slightly within the fox as they continued their slow and steady ascent. Perhaps it wasn't the feeling of a bad plan, but more of a bad omen, that some sort of unfortunate event would catastrophically change everything. Again, his militaristic brain instructed him to remain logical and methodical, and that such feelings would only ensure their death rather than prevent it.

Oh joy, the top of the stairs.

Synonymously taking a deep breath and glancing at each other's eyes, the pair were ready to set their plan in motion. The fox bolted upright, and began to shoot furiously at the mercenaries patrolling the floor, streams of deadly energy-packed bullets flying straight into their bodies. Surprised at the attack, the disorganized enemy attempted a pathetic counterstrike, but failed miserably. The totally deserted floor provided no protection for them, and so the advantage held by the fox defeated them. The vulpine paused for a few moments, checking every enemy he shot to ensure their death, and preparing for any and all reinforcements to arrive. Perfectly safe, the fox smiled and sighed, a sense of accomplishment coursing through his body to alleviate some of the adrenaline build-up.

"You forgot me."

The vulpine's body nearly turned inside out as every organ performed a sickening somersault as he spun to point his gun at the enemy who spoke and fired a perfectly aimed shot right between the enemy's eyes. A bizarre smile was plastered on the enemy's face as it slumped to the floor with a soft thud. The enemy's voice echoed through the silence of the empty floor, grating into the fox's ears with a frequency that could raise the dead. The vulpine gaped at the enemy, recovering his strength from the surprise, before another feeling ripped at his body.

Wait a minute…

All traces of blood left his face as he realized it.

Oh no, hell no!

He sprinted back toward the stairs and skidded to a stop, his eyes rapidly scanning for his target. It was lying unceremoniously in a twisted position as if attempting to mock its victim as much as possible. A tangle of blue blood-coated feathers rested upon the cruel metal of the stairs, streams of the red-colored liquid flowing out of the falcon's chest.