Longitude

by Nicholas Tanski

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Haven't written here in quite some time, for which I must apologize. Here's another little one-shot for you. Enjoy.

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This was it - game time. It was now or never. Everyone was counting on him. He was the lone solider in this battle that held in suspension the lives of millions. If he didn't do this, he would never see his friends again. He would never see anyone again. The world as he and everyone else knew it would end. Completely, totally, without a trace just end. The world would be consumed by evil and, although he would be dead and gone, the rest of the world would have to suffer at the hands of his mistakes. They would damn him with all of their strength as they were forced into a world of unforeseen terror.

No. No, it wouldn't happen like that. He wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't even let those thoughts dampen his mind again. Never. He would never let that happen. He would not let people suffer in his name. Not ever.

"Code 38 – left corridor."

He snapped his head in the direction pointed out by the voice that static clung to over his radio. Code 38 – hostile and armed opposing force. In layman's terms, it means "you're fucked". And the voice wasn't kidding. 10 soldiers, all armed, all looking out of their minds with thoughts of vengeance for their fallen soldiers. That surprised Fox – it sure did look convincing. One of his ground-teammates took 5 or 6 pot shots in their general direction and three went down instantly. Red fluid sprayed from holes in their legs and chests. They hit the ground with faux grunts of pain. Fox stopped dead in his tracks and aimed his rifle. As he was doing this, the teammate beside him went down - shot to the chest. Three blasts fired from Fox's rifle. Three opposing soldiers went down. What, you think Fox would miss? Pshaw. Only four left.

Another went down, fallen by a bullet from who knows whom. The other three began a slow retreat backwards. Another down. Then the other. The last one began a retreat that was a bit hastier. No problem, though – one more blast from Fox's rifle took care of it.

"All clear?" Fox called out over the com to his teammates.

"Affirmative, sir." Someone replied

"Sir, 2 o'clock!"

Fox looked up just in time to see the gun fire. 3 shots directly to the head. He was dead. Gone. Completely dead, never to return.

"Shit." Fox swore under his breath

"Ah, damn it. Stop training exercise!" A voice called out.

"Fox, what was that?"

Fox knew the voice – General Pepper's junior, Major General Monroe. He was even stricter than Pepper.

"I died." Fox replied simply.

"I realize that. Why?"

"Probably the bullet entering my head, but it could have been anything."

Monroe feigned laughter.

"Ha…ha…Fox, that's the fourth time today that you've died in this one exercise. This is what you're going to be facing a lot from now on. You need to get used to it, or you'll be putting yourself and many others at risk."

Fox rolled his eyes, as he always did when MG Monroe went on like this.

"I know, I know…"

"Fox, you're our best fighter. If you don't get this, you're putting a lot of people at risk."

"I know – let's just try it again then."

"After a break – you look like you're really starting to sweat."

Fox's look lightened.

"Thanks….Theodor…" Fox added with a grin.

Monroe sneered at him. Lord knows how much he hated being called that.

"Dismissed…Mr. McCloud…"

With his grin intact, Fox exited the large warehouse-like training simulation area. He could hear the other soldiers inside beginning to leave for their break. He could swear one of them was complaining about how much red dye he's had to have sprayed on him. Fox sighed as the large, metal door closed with a huge clanging sound. You couldn't do anything quietly in this place. He started heading down the maze of corridors – he knew where he needed to go.

It was clearly a slow time in the cafeteria when he got there. He didn't know when lunch was, but it certainly wasn't now. Quickly scanning the large room, he spotted what he was looking for.

"Hey" Fox called out to the bird sitting at one of the round tables to the far right.

Falco nodded at him, as an acknowledgement of his appearance. Fox headed for the table. As he got closer, he started looking around a little more. Falco noticed.

"They're not here – they're still in the simulator."

"Oh." Fox said as he sat down on the plastic chair. "Still?"

"Yeah, probably for another half-an-hour yet."

Fox shook his head. Damn. They were serious about this training thing. Instead of their usual technique (i.e. flying), a new and most likely very lengthily mission was going to have to be fought with urban tactics. A lot of the head forces behind the Venomian force, after being chased by the Cornerian Army and Starfox, flooded to a sanctuary on Macbeth with thousand upon thousands of Venomian units guarding it. Starfox (with some help) would have to infiltrate said safe-haven and deal with the war-lords. That meant no more Arwings, and a lot more ground weapons. Starfox wasn't entirely new to this, but he far less training in it comparative to flight, so General Pepper ordered a few weeks of mandatory simulations and training to get them on their feet in that area.

Mandatory is the key word. The training was brutal; hours and hours of it a day. They had little time on their hands so, if they couldn't do it after 50 tries, 51 it was. However many it would take with very little time for breaks. It was hell.

"God, this is worse than at the Academy"

Falco scoffed.

"You're telling me. And I think it's safe to say that, until this whole thing is done, that Monroe guy will not be very popular around here."

"Yeah" Fox said, laughing. "At least he lets us break more often than not."

Falco shrugged in response.

"Did you get through?"

"Nah, I'm just on break. I've died in this place so many times, you'd think I'd get something from my life insurance."

Falco laughed a little.

"Yeah, they're gonna run out of red dye."

"Those guys are good."

"What guys?"

"The opposing soldiers in the sim."

"You mean strategy-wise?"

"Well, yeah, but I was talking about their acting. I could swear they're the real thing when I'm fighting them."

"Yeah, I guess they are. Speaking of which, I have to get back to the grind. See you later."

"See ya, Falco."

Fox watched as Falco left. He should head back as well. Monroe always bitched when he came back a little late. Well, maybe not; he needed a break. He felt like a child being woken up for school, begging for just one more minute of rest. The more amount of time he could squeeze out of this "break" the better. The chair squeaked as he got up and began walking towards the left corridor. At the end of the long hallway was a set of brown double-doors with a complicated-looking lock system on it. A single quiet buzz sounded as Fox neared them, but a quick swipe of his I.D. card resulted with the familiar clicking sound. Fox pushed the door open and was greeted with a blast of bitterly cold air. That was okay; he wasn't planning on staying long. As the doors behind him loudly closed, Fox looked out over the area. Being an army training simulator/recruitment center, there was very little around it. It was a mile or two away from Center City which, itself, was just a 30 minute drive from Corneria City. Fox let out a puff of visible carbon-dioxide as he sighed. What was it about this time of the year that made him reflect so much? It was October; could it be the holidays? It was a big part of his childhood, after all. Maybe. Was it the cold? Fox kind of found the cold stimulating. More of a reason to keep active and do what you're doing and keep warm. That could be it, as well. Well, maybe it wasn't any one thing in particular. Maybe it was a "perfect storm" kind of thing; a group of many reasons coming together. Who knows?

Fox was just thinking a lot. Thinking about everything. He found himself in trances more and more often, just thinking through a variety of different things. He would think of one thing, then a different thing, then a different one, and so on until he couldn't remember what he thinking of first. Is that even a problem? Thinking? Well, not thinking – it was thinking too much. Yeah, I guess that could be a problem…too much. Too much of anything is still "too much". Can't be good.

…wait…see?! This is how it happens! What was he thinking of first? …he couldn't remember!

"Damn it."

Wait – did he just say that out loud? Fox almost put his hand to his mouth in surprise. He was really getting aggravated. He has been through so much that he just has so much to think about. It's like his brain is just always on full-speed and can't just be in "neutral" for a minute. It always has things to contemplate and mull over. Fox continued gazing out at the bare landscape around him. About an inch of snow had fallen the previous day as they were on their way back from doing a more realistic outdoor simulated mission. It was all still on the ground and crunched whenever Fox changed his footing. The morning sun tried hard, but did nothing to change the freezing temperature.

Fox looked back, towards the building. There was a digital display to the right of the gigantic doors that was currently displaying schedule information. It showed the entire list of times and then faded each one in and out individually. Fox watched as "Check-In Time: 0800 hrs." faded in and then, slowly, back out. He continued staring at the screen as two more did the same. Then, when Fox was absent-mindedly expecting a fourth to appear, something else came up. It was text; centered, black text.

"Let the past pass; the present is now."

Fox blinked at his reality being disrupted. Just as he got a real look at it and actually registered what it said, it slowly began to fade out. Fox was speechless. He couldn't believe it. Everything he needed and it had to be told to him by somebody typing up a display for an army recruitment base.

Fox repeated the words in his head, mouthing them as well. Yeah. The past is gone. There isn't a single thing you can do to change it, and yet…it was what Fox was obsessing over for such a long time. All of this time, he had been forgoing the present just because he was worried about the things that had already happened. Why? Why worry over something that can't be changed in the slightest? Why not focus on what you're doing now, so you won't be doing the same exact thing in the future? Why let something that's done and gone bother you so much?

Fox saw a puff of white float past time quickly and it took him almost a half a minute to realize that he had sighed. He must have done it unintentionally. Like, as if his brain itself had done it. Fox did feel kind of relieved now, though. It was like a huge weight was lifted off of him and he could breathe again. Maybe he should focus more on the present. Speaking of which, it's been a while – Monroe is probably already mad at him.

Before he left, he waited for the message to come back again, just to implant the philosophy into his mind. He waited until the rest of the times went by and then "Check-In Time: 0800 hrs." came up again. After two others passed, Fox leaned in to make sure he didn't misread it the first time. What came up shocked him. No meaningful message, no helpful little saying…just:

"Break: 1200 hrs."

Fox had a confused look plastered on his face. Maybe it was the next one.

"Training Sim 3: 1300 hrs."

It wasn't the next one. Or the one after that, either. Fox looked away from it; maybe the sun was playing with his eyes. After another pass, Fox still had that confused look plastered on his face. It was half way through the third pass and Fox realized that it wasn't coming up again. Well, that was interesting. Maybe Fox hadn't seen it at all; maybe he just imagined it. Maybe his brain gave him just what he needed. Or, maybe it was his…no, no – it wasn't that. Fox had to stop lying to himself. The doors creaked open again. Falco poked his head out into the brisk air.

"Fox!"

Fox spun quickly, almost losing his balance.

"I was told to get your ass in here."

"Oh…yeah…"

Catching the door that Falco swung open for him, he was still wondering. On the brighter side, Fox took out almost every target that day. Even Monroe was surprised at how good he suddenly was. As if something had changed within him. As Fox changed into more casual clothes at the end of the day, his mind couldn't help but to wander back to that morning. That message. It must only come up every now and then.

Yeah. Yeah, that had to be it.

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Hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave your thoughts, good or bad, in the comments.

Thanks for reading.