No Regrets

Hello everyone, I'm finally back with a one-shot, maybe two shot to try to kill writers block, so please, if this isn't as good as it should be, then there are reasons, I'm not just throwing it all down the drain. So bear with me. if you like it, GOOD, if not, then just tell me, don't flame it, or I will hunt you down. -.-

Fox: hmm, fun. We're experiments again.

Yep.

Wolf: dammit. I hate you, you know that?

Yep. Always have known. On with the show.

The cold metal brushed against his arm, sending a slight chill through his broken Radius. He twitched slightly as he tried to get comfortable and start to set the broken bone. His pained grunts of effort echoed through the small space he was confined to, no other sounds penetrating the loneliness. How long has it been? Weeks? Months? Years? He had lost track of time with the gunmetal gray walls. He wrapped his arm in a makeshift sling out of his ripped shirt. They had taken him by surprise, which was very unusual… he was never caught off guard. He sighed and laid back on the uncomfortable steel slab his captors called a cot. A chill went down his spine again as it touched the cold steel bare, his rough coating of fur inefficient in this situation. He made to check the communicator which was usually on his left wrist, but remembered it was no longer there, it's only current remnants the almost permanently matted down fur from wearing it too long. He heard hollow footsteps from the hallway outside the door, and figured the guards were doing their daily rounds, which meant he would be taken out yet again for their persuasion program. He shuddered slightly at the thought and braced for the worst before it came. Sure enough, two large guards opened the nearly silent door and pulled him off his steel block. Either only muttering a "damn mutt" or "scum", the two guards dragged him to the ungodly persuasion room, its walls painted with its victim's blood… his as well. He quickly braced himself for the blow that he knew was inevitable. The gash across his right cheek told him that the so called 'inquisitor' was wearing his signet ring, it's jeweled face also holding a very small and fine needle, for just such an occasion.

"Well, are you ready to listen to us now, mutt?" that shrill nasally voice spoke, the owner's sneer almost evident even in just so few words; he glared daggers at the inquisitor. His head snapped to the side as another blow struck his face, blood running down the side of his mouth. He purposefully ignored the blood running into his mouth, the taste of iron strong and almost distracting from the current pain. He tried to put himself somewhere else. In the cockpit, fighting his rival, anywhere but here. His body convulsed as a blow struck him in his broken arm. He stared defiantly back at the inquisitor, not showing any signs of acquiescence. He braced himself for another blow; that damn needle on that signet getting ever so persistent. He could feel the filth in the air start to enter his bloodstream through the open sores. He wouldn't let the pain show on his face. "Well, mutt? Are you ready to speak?" that shrill voice asked again; just the sound of it made his ears hurt.

"I hope you die, so that way I can shit on your grave." He spat coldly, quickly struck by a fist, instead of that damned ring. He grinned slightly, as much as the wounds on his cheeks and face would let him. He winced slightly as he felt something other than the signet ring stab into his shoulder, he looked over and saw that the inquisitor had picked one of the guard's knives and stabbed him. He was about to cry out in pain, but that would please the inquisitor too much.

"I hope the master will let me kill you for that. God only knows why he even wants trash like you alive." The inquisitor shrieked; a worse sound than his regular voice, by all means. He felt another knife stab his other shoulder, right into one of his more… sensitive nerves. He bit his tongue to not yelp. "Take him back to his room. I will see to it he gets another treatment in the persuasion later." And with that, he was being dragged off back to that lonely steel prison. He chuckled softly to himself as the guards threw him rather disgracefully onto the steel block. His chuckle quickly evolved to full blown laughter; whether out of hysteria or of a way to erase the pain, he did not know. His cackles of mild hysteria echoed through the 6 foot by 6 foot room. He reached to cover up his new wounds with his tattered shirt and pants, of which he had been completely stripped before. He winced in the dark as he shuffled with wrapping the wounds on his legs that hadn't been there before. He wondered how many times he had actually been hit; he had lost count after the third blow to the face. A sigh escaped his lips as he wrapped the first of many wounds; how much longer will he have until he was dead? He tried not thinking of morbid subjects like that, but from time to time, locked in a small square room with furniture making it smaller, it just couldn't be helped. Another pained sigh escaped, and a soft smile graced his features, one of those rare smiles, a 'you-know-you're-going-to-die-so-get-shit-over-with' kind of smile. His hand touched the hidden hilt of the dagger hidden in his boot. "At least... I might be able to get out of here." He muttered under his panting breath as he finished wrapping his wounds. He closed his eyes, allowing total darkness to replace the partial darkness of the room. His ears caught a conversation beyond the door, between the two guards.

"Is it okay to just leave him for a while? He was one of the master's highest rankings." One had said, his feet shuffling across the floor, apparently a big fellow. "I mean, he could probably kill us with his bare hands if he wished to, according to some of the files we've found on him in the intelligence departments." Guard number one had said; the slightest hint of fear in his voice.

"Do not worry, Matthias, he cannot do anything to us, or he would have already. And besides, his skill is with blasters; something we do not have around here." Guard number two had replied, his voice carefree and quite at-ease, for being a guard. "And if he does escape, we will have him painfully outnumbered."

"But Genbu… He has been known to take out more than 40 guar-" the guard named Matthias started, but the other guard, Genbu, cut him off with a "stop it with the statistics, Matthias." The conversation stopped as the two stopped in front of his door, he slipped on his torn pants and his half of a shirt, slipping into his boots with the dagger in them. This will be his only chance to escape this hellhole, and he will take it whenever he can. He tested his arm, which had already healed back to its normal state. He sighed as he lay motionless in that hellish steel block as the guards hefted him up and dragged him down to the persuasion room. He opened his eyes in the familiar hellish room as he realized that the guards had generously, and quite graciously, threw him into the room bodily. He sniffed indignantly as he dusted himself off, the inquisitor waiting for him with a blow to the face, that damn signet ring scraping across his jaw. He grimaced. "Is that the best you've got, monkey boy?" he grinned, trying to get a reaction from the inquisitor. Today, one bastard in the room was going to die, and he'll be damned it's not him. The ring sliced his cheek open again. One by one the blows kept coming before the inquisitor turned his back on him, and that was the one chance he needed. In all of a second, he reached down, grabbed the leather coated hilt of his dagger and pulled it out of his boot. The next second his hand was covering the inquisitor's mouth, muffling any screams.

"Now you listen here, you damn scumbag, be glad I'm in the mood for mercy." He growled lowly, the dagger's blade dangerously close to the inquisitor's thin neck. "I could have just disemboweled you as soon as those guards were gone, but I don't think you deserve that. No. just a clean, simple, and quick execution is what you deserve, Mister Inquisitor. Bah. You don't even deserve to be called that. You're just a power hungry asshole who needs to make everyone else miserable. Now, you will give me what I want, and I will kill you as quickly as I choose." He said calmly, his voice surprisingly steady for his current composure. He kept looking through possible outcomes, failures more often popping up than successes. He only had one chance at this, and he wouldn't wreck it completely. "Now, give me your security card." He growled, the dagger's sharp blade pressing against the ape's neck, drawing a drop of blood. The ape thrust the card and signet ring out to his captor, mumbling something along the lines of "here, please don't kill me." The captor grinned maniacally and shoved the card into his pocket and the ring onto his finger. "Too bad, looks like I'm not merciful at all today." He cackled, the dagger cutting into flesh and muscle, severing the ape's larynx and voice box, yet still leaving him alive. "And so you can't call the guards on you…" he trailed off, finding a rope and a hook in the ceiling. In a few seconds, the ape was tied up, hand behind his back, and feet tied close together, and hanging upside down from the hook in the ceiling. "Hm. Looks like you'll only have an hour to suffer before you die, maybe I am merciful." He grinned maliciously. The ape only attempted to speak as the blood ran down his cut throat, a disgusting bubbling sound being produced as blood collected in the voice box and bubbled as the ape tried to talk. At this rate, the inquisitor would drown in his own blood slowly. He chuckled evilly as he looked for the nearest exit, grinning like a madman as he found his way out. He approached the metal door, pressing the ring into the oddly ring-shaped indention in the scanner. ACCESS DENIED read on the screen. He growled and presented the I.D with the ring in the scanner, twitching slightly in anticipation of finally escaping this god forsaken hellhole. The doors slid open as the scanner panel on the side of the door flashed green, showing an ACCEPTED in large bold letters, not that He stayed long enough to see anything else. The heavy booted footsteps were oddly quiet in the metal hallways of the base. He sighed heavily as he kept his dagger at the ready, slowly making his way to where he thought the hangar was, only going off of the first trip here. He heard footsteps other than his own and caught his breath, stopping immediately as he saw a guard's shadow start moving in the hallway to the right of the intersection in front of him. His breath hitched in his lungs and his heart nearly stopped right at that moment as the shadow moved closer to him, closer to the intersection point. He had to make his way to the hangar, but first to get his stuff back from them. He let his breath out slowly, quietly, as he saw the shadow disappear completely from view, footsteps stopping as well. He counted to ten, waiting for nothing to start back up before he made his way to the storeroom in the building. He wished his heart would stop beating up his ribcage in an internal anger management class. His hand twitched slightly as he took a deep breath, a slightly familiar scent hitting his nose. What was that fat lard doing here? He sighed heavily and hoped he didn't get caught by him, taking very light steps even in heavy boots, making next to no noise as his feet hit the rigid steel beneath him. It almost felt like a circus act, strange, adrenaline-filled citizen walking the high rope, or something like that. He chuckled in spite of himself, a light and almost unnoticed scoff, but echoing a couple of times in the empty hallways. He froze, not aware that that was his doing. He sighed in relief, thankful that it wasn't a guard behind him. He rolled his eyes as he slowly started back to where he thought was the storeroom. He calmed his breathing as he tiptoed through the gray-washed walls. It was too easy to get lost in this place, and he couldn't afford to do that. His eyes darted back and forth as he made notes of his surroundings. If this place was supposed to be so 'old-school' then why did it feel so modern? Why is it still torturing people anyway? Who was this Master that the inquisitor kept talking about? So many questions darted around in his head, but he shoved them down, more enthralled with the task at hand. He sighed very quietly, stifling a yawn as well, but still moving forward, making an occasional turn here or there, shuffling slowly towards his destination. He could hear the faint beeping of his communicator from what was supposed to be the storeroom and grinned in triumph, sliding the inquisitor's Identification Card through the cardscanner. The door beeped and slid open quietly. He took a few hesitant steps into the store room and froze as alarms started going off farther away, their loud blaring klaxons echoing futilely through the seemingly empty hallways.

"ATTENTION ALL GUARDS. REPEAT:ATTENTION ALL GUARDS. PRISINOR 3451 HAS ESCAPED, BE ON HIGH ALERT. THE INQUISITOR IS DEAD. HAVE NO MERCY." A strange metallic voice erupted from speakers of what seemed to be a PA system. He sighed and got ready. "well, looks like more have to die." He muttered as he picked his stuff up, sliding on the familiar battle armor and his trusty communicator, checking the messages on it first. The first name he saw pop up on the communicator was a very familiar name, he grinned. "looks like I will have to live after all." He chuckled softly, sliding the communicator onto his wrist; the metal device took it's rightful place on his left wrist, right where all of the matted down fur was before. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for what was to come, he took one step out of the doorway before noticing he was cornered by the guards, all wielding knives, swords, or battle axes. He grinned almost insanely as he got into a fighting stance.

"Halt, prisoner." One of the bigger guards, he recognized as the one named Genbu, commanded. "we have specific orders to not let you leave this place alive. If you will surrender peacefully then we will not have to kill you." The guard's deep booming voice rang in the hallway, and his ears.

"Heh, Well, looks like you'll just have to try to kill me then, because I have no intentions of giving up to the likes of you." He smirked, switching his dagger to a reverse grip and rushing to strike the first guard, but was met with a well placed block. He backpedaled away from the large battle axe wielding guard's overhead swing, replying with a slash of his knife at the now seemingly vulnerable guard. The big brute guard bent backwards to dodge the knife that was aimed at his throat, pulling his axe off the ground where it was swung. The guard with the knife went to slash at their target, the dagger blade barely cutting his arm. He watched all three guards intently, waiting for the right moment to counter or dodge, the guard with the longsword came after him with an underhanded swing, which was deflected with his knife. He saw his chance, and in the next second, his knife was planted firmly in the neck of the assailing guard, his blood seeping down his neck from the wound. He picked up the guard's sword and turned to the other two. "Well…Who's next?" he asked confidently, testing the sword carefully in his hands. He barely had time to think as the guard with the knife went to slash at him, feinting carefully. He felt the knife pierce into his arm, yelping in pain but still standing. He took the opening to shove the sword straight into the guard's cold heart. He could hear the muscle tearing around the sword as it made its line drive through the guard's most vital organ. The guard screamed quickly then died in a heap of convulsions. He pulled the knife from his arm and turned to the large guard. "Hm. Just me and you now, bub." He grinned as he went to attack the guard suddenly, but was met with a block from the sturdy battle axe, barely having time to dodge the overhead swing of the axe by the brutish guard. He hopped back away from the reach of the guard. He carefully watched the guard, almost on his toes in anticipation. The guard went to make an overhead swing, which he dodged carefully, quickly plunging the blade into the guard's side, piercing his liver and kidney. The guard yelped but did not go down. He cursed as he was forced to leave the sword in the guard's side. He jumped away from the guard's responding elbow. He dropped the knife that he was holding, still intently watching the last guard. The guard swung again, he dodged. This time he took a hold of the axe in the guard's hands, twisted, and pushed up, dislocating the guard's arm with the grip that he was holding on the axe. He pulled the axe free of the guard's weak arms. He chuckled and brought the axe down onto the guard's shoulder, taking great pleasure in the soft squelches it elicted from the wound it created as he pulled it free, the guard falling backwards in pain. He grinned and walked beside the guard, getting the axe ready and aimed at the neck of the guard. "well, looks like you failed." He smirked, wiping some blood off of his arm. "say hello to death for me. And tell Death that I don't intend to be visiting any time soon." He cackled as he brought the axe down on the guard's neck, severing flesh from flesh. The guard's head rolled down the hallway after it was kicked away. He hefted the axe onto his shoulder and made his way down to where he thought the hangars were. His hand instinctively darted to the blaster holder on his hip but remembered that it wasn't there to begin with, he cursed as he kept trudging towards the hangars. He stopped as guards ran down a hallway a few meters from his current location, getting ready to kill again. He stopped before seeing a red blaster bolt dart across his vision, leaving a red streak in his sight as he tried to figure out the source. These guards didn't have blasters, they had said that themselves. Then who? Who was this newcomer? He didn't have time to think as he heard the sound of three guards hit the ground, their metal armor clanging heavily against the solid metal floors. He got himself ready for what was to come, but nothing could prepare him for that unmistakable burnt orange tint. He found himself at blaster point with nothing but an oversized battle axe, he inched forward, seeing the figure in front of him put his finger on the trigger. He put the metal blade of the axe to guard his face as he inched forward farther, a blaster bolt hitting the heavy steel, heating it and he was sure that there was about a half an inch melted off of the other side. He slowly made his way to the intersection point that the figure was at, lowering the axe from his face. "hey, why are you firing at me?" he asked irritably. He had every right to be angry and aggravated.

"Is that you?" the figure asked, his voice the same too. He thought that he had forgotten all about him. He inspected the burnt orange fur, the same emerald eyes that he had once fallen in love with. "I thought you were dead, which was why I tried locating you. When you didn't answer your communicator, I had thought that… that you… that I had lost my rival." The other person muttered, his blaster taking its place back in the holster at the hip. He blinked as he felt a pair of arms around him, wincing as he noticed that unhealed wound in his arm from the knife. He dropped the heavy axe, embracing the other with just as much relief as he was given.

"I promise I'm not dead." He chuckled softly, just now re-noticing the ring on his finger. He slid the evil thing off and slipped it into his pocket. "but we're not out of this hellhole yet. Do you have an extra blaster?" he asked, hopefully. He blinked as he felt a chunk of metal in his hand.

"yep. Although, it's not near as specialized as your model is. It's a standard issue CB-198, so you'll have to get used to taking more than one shot to kill." The other explained, getting ready to take him back to the hangar. "now, we'll need to be careful, this place is teeming with guards, but they only have melee weapons." The other one started to explain, but was cut off with a soft laugh from him. "what? What's so funny?"

"you're telling me stuff I already know." He chuckled and shook his head, examining the hallway. "Just take me to the hangar, they have my ship." He muttered as he checked over the blaster that he was given. The CB-198, a good model, but it tended to jam up if you pressed the trigger enough. The rule of double tap. He chuckled softly to himself as he steeled himself for the battles to come. The other led him down the hallway, and through the next. The doors kept repeating themselves with their monotony. He growled softly as he shook his head. "Can we hurry up?" he mumbled, impatient and ready to get out of this hell hole. He quickened his pace to keep up with his guide, his footsteps heavy and rushed. He turned as he heard footsteps behind them, they were surrounded, guards on both sides of them. He cursed under his breath as he brought the blaster pistol up to a firing position, aiming at one of the guards and pulling the trigger. The red bolt seared through the air and hit a guard square between the eyes, killing him immediately. He took his second shot, searing the flesh of an arm of another guard. He reached behind him, feeling the small object in his pouch. "get down." He muttered to his ally. He picked the small spherical object out of his pouch and pressed it to the barrel of the blaster, pulling the trigger. The object whirred to live as he held it up on the blaster's barrel. In the next second, multiple blaster bolts shot out from the edge of the spherical object, all in an arc, they hit the guards simultaneously, killing them all. He grinned. "looks like that worked just as I expected." He put the object back into his pouch.

"what the hell was that?" the other asked incredulously. "it doesn't look like anything I've seen before."

"WS-1859. Or as I call it, Widespread." He grinned, starting to make his way back to where the hangar was. He heard the footsteps behind him quicken to catch up. He chuckled as the other bombarded him with questions of how he got that device. His chuckle quickly turned into a deep laugh as he made it to the hangar, presenting the ID of the inquisitor. The doors slid open, revealing that familiar ship coloring. He grinned in triumph as he ran to his ship, the cockpit sliding open automatically as he approached.

"Wolf… I… I want you to join us on the ship." The other said as he hopped into his ship, the familiar blue colored wings clashing against his red colored ship.

"I'll think about it." He replied. Starting up the engines and charging the blasters of the ship. He smirked as he let go of the charge button, the large orb of searing plasma slamming into the door and melting it clear open. He howled in an adrenaline filled rush as he slammed on the thrusters, the moments of the intense G-force impacted onto his body as he screamed out of the hanger being the one things in life he lived for. He laughed exuberantly as he saw the wide open skies, the white clouds, and the desert surroundings of Titania. "so… how long was I in there, pup?" he asked the other via commlink. He wanted to know how long he needed to hate those bastards.

"umm… I want to say about 7 months." The other replied, a soft concern in his voice. He sighed audibly. "and please… consider my offer." He heard before a click signaling the call was ended. He smiled softly to himself as he flew into the skies, happy to be back out in the air. "Fox… I have no regrets of ever meeting you." He smiled to himself.

Epilogue:

It has been a year since the imprisonment, and he couldn't be feeling any better. He opened his eyes and sat up under the covers of the bed he shared with his lover. He looked over to see the burnt orange vulpine sleeping peacefully. He chuckled as he stood up and fixed his fur, getting a quick glass of water from the attached bathroom. He smiled softly and sat at the edge of the bed, downing the cool, pure water. He was happy, it was peaceful, and he had no regrets.