Minutes to Midnight

Chapter 1: Regret

A/N: This story originally started out as a one-shot for Emile the Watcher's and K.S. Reynard's Holiday Contest, but now that the contest is over, I am able to do a lot more with the story. I'll add a third viewpoint from Slippy's perspective, as well as filling in the gaps of Fox and Katt's stories, and explaining the science behind everything. Also, I'm pulling a Peter Jackson and splitting up the story into five chapters.

Fox McCloud slid to a stop next to an open doorway, breathing heavily from both physical exertion and adrenaline. Trying to silence his ragged breathing, he regulated his air intake to the bare minimum he needed and ignored his lungs telling him to breathe. He had just entered a seemingly abandoned warehouse in Syvarris city, Corneria, a few thousand miles east of Corneria City itself. The cold air of winter drifted in through a broken window on his left, causing his breath to turn to fog. A streetlamp outside illuminated a constellation of snow lazily drifting through the window, also casting a shadow behind Fox's crouched figure.

This isn't right, his consciousness nagged him, like a small child weakly but persistently tugging his mother's skirt. This is wrong. Looking all around him, the single fact that stood out to him was that he was completely alone. No Falco, no Slippy, no Krystal.

No team. No friends.

Alone.

This feeling of lonesomeness was one that he would have to conquer if he was to ever move on with his life. Fox no longer worked in a team. He worked by himself as a private operative. Despite every time he tried to convince himself that a private operative was no different than a mercenary team, he still could not get over this one fact. Three years on his own could never make him forget the fifteen years he spent with his friends. The wounds of the past were healed on the surface, but under his skin, they still ached.

It had started eight years ago, with a rock-slide that started an avalanche. One thing after another, and Fox could not believe the sudden turn in his life. Everything was going surprisingly well. After the Anglar blitz, the team had reformed; everyone returned from their scattered paths. Falco quit wandering around, Slippy put aside his work with his father and Space Dynamics, and Krystal had completely abandoned Starwolf. Though the last traces of Andross had been wiped away from the Lylat System forever, business had not slowed for the team. There were always the ruffians and ne'er-do-wells that needed cleaning up. Crime proceeded as normal, and justice proceeded as normal. And an ample amount of cash proceeded as normal into Star Fox's bank account. And to make the final piece of Fox's dream come true, Krystal had married him. They had even had a... a...

But everything had been perfect.

Except that they had everything to lose.

After six years of success, they once again found themselves running out of jobs. Determined not to make the same mistakes as before and let the team fall apart again, Fox did everything in his power to keep them together. When no more honest work came, he began accepting more unreputable jobs, of the kind that were not completely... legal. For a time, the strategy worked. Falco got his fill of excitement, Slippy received the income to keep their equipment in working order, and Krystal was able to be near the one she loved.

It was that last mission, three years ago, that caused everything to fall apart. It went completely wrong. Fox began to feel the tears welling up in his eyes. Why had he brought him along? That one mistake had cost Fox everything. With their... with him gone, Krystal had left Fox. She would never forgive him. It was all his fault. And then, Fox became irritable, prey to extreme mood swings that drove even his two best friends away.

And now all that he had left was empty spaces.

Drying his eyes, he looked all around him, but he couldn't find anyone. His team should have been beside him. He reached down to nervously twist the gold ring that he had sworn to wear every moment of his life, a habit he had picked up, but his finger was bare. The ring was gone, tossed away years ago. His mind struggled to uncover any memories of his lost... son... but he couldn't find them. They had been erased, drowned, removed. And when he tried to feel anything for his vanished friends, he found only gaps in his heart. Nothing was left, only emptiness.

Because he had thrown it all away.

But now it was time to focus. The past was dead. He was in the present, and the present was all that existed. And presently, he had a mission.

Holding his breath completely now, Fox uneasily poked his head through the doorway and peered into the room. Five figures were seated around a cheap table, a single candle barely illuminating them. One was leaning over the table with his paws outstretched to absorb any heat he could from the miniscule flame. Another sipped from a small, thin bottle that sparkled green in the light of the candle. They talked in gruff, quiet voices that Fox couldn't make out. Though they seemed like normal citizens, Fox could tell from the black silhouettes of their weapons five animals were much more than that; they were his contacts.

Ducking back through the doorway, Fox let out his breath. It was time to report to his employer, a wealthy owl descended from a long line of bankers that stretched back to God knows when. It was not until that job three years ago that Fox found out who really controlled the world, and he didn't like it. But he was forced to live with it. Fox fiddled with his wrist comm for a moment before opening a communications line. The lofty yet calculated voice of his employer soon answered him. "Eldar Mothchild speaking. I assume you have found them?"

"Yes," Fox sighed, "I'm at the meeting point. But why all the secrecy? They clearly have the credits with them, so I could just pick up the case now."

Mothchild hesitated a moment. "I... had to tell you something... before you reached them."

Genuine confusion tinged Fox's voice. "What?"

A few seconds of silence passed, in which Fox guessed his employer was struggling with his answer.

"You must kill them. All."

Fox gasped, thoughts racing in his head. He started sweating so that his head was damp and his hands felt clammy holding the wrist comm. "That... that wasn't in the contract."

"It is now," came the impartial answer. "I see no compelling reasons for paying every one of them. This way I only have one to reward; you." As Fox was unresponsive, Mothchild continued, "You mustn't hesitate now. Failure will result in the immediate termination of our contract. Your reputation as a private operative is at stake here. You're an exceptional agent, McCloud. No one wants to see your career ruined by mere ethical concerns."

Again, Fox didn't answer. The conflicting feelings and voices in his mind had frozen him completely.

Mothchild's unforgiving voice would not let him think for a moment. "Well, McCloud, I can't wait forever. I need an answer now. Will you comply?"

Finally, Fox gritted his teeth and answered, "Alright. I'll do it."

Fox could clearly picture a satisfied grin twisting the owl's beak as Mothchild continued. "I knew you would get over it. Killing in cold blood is much more different than killing in war, I understand. But morals are only for the proletariat... right, Fox? This is an important step in your transcendence to the elite. Your friends, Lombardi and the rest of them, came over soon enough, though most of them did end up in..."

Fox was no longer paying attention to Mothchild's little monologue. He slowly lowered his wrist comm and turned it off, gut churning at what he was about to do. Mothchild was right. Fox had never killed anyone without provocation. In the past, his targets had always been enemy soldiers or criminals hiding from justice. Now there were no valid reasons for killing them. Not to mention the fact that he didn't have a glass windshield and hundreds of feet of open air separating him from his enemies. Now they were right in front of him. He would see them die.

Once again, his breathing became ragged and uncontrolled. He stood up and drew his blaster, also making sure his knife was within easy reach in case close combat became necessary... and it would. Pressing himself against the side of the doorway, he listened for a few more seconds to his unsuspecting victims' conversation, raising his blaster to the side of his head. He felt his mind giving over to its animal instincts, the feral kind meant for survival. His heart beat raced to speeds he had only felt in battle, flying his arwing with his teammates alongside him.

The empty spaces hurt.

Closing his eyes, he let a flood of memories assault his mind, of colors and feelings and voices, and he channeled them into his veins. His eyes snapped open and he spun around the corner into the room, his adrenaline exploding in pent up energy.

Stepping out of a corner coffee shop, Katt Monroe zipped up her leather jacket and shoved her paws into her pockets, protecting herself from the biting cold. The shop was an expensive one, not one she could fit into her unpredictable budget, but she thought Heck with it, it's New Year's, I might as well treat myself once.

Turning down the left street, she melded right into the perpetual river of civilians that flowed through Corneria City, fading into the rest of the thousands of animals going about their daily lives. On a personal level, each animal was unique. As a whole, they were all the same.

Head down, watching the shimmering wet pavement slip by beneath her feet, she began the modest trek back to her apartment, which was located only a few blocks to the west of where she was now. The sun was slipping below the horizon, drowning in the vast expanse of rolling mountains that skirted the west side of Corneria City. The black silhouettes of the skyscrapers stabbed at the sky, fading away from orange to shadow. To Katt, it seemed like the light was finally giving into the darkness. Turning her attention back to her feet, hiding her face from the rest of the uncaring world, she watched the pavement slide by like black sludge, typical of the modern city –

Katt shook her head to reorient herself.. Drowning sun? Stabbing skyscrapers? Man, was she in a dark mood. But who could blame her? She had fallen prey to a series of unfortunate events to rival the longest domino line in the Zoness Book of Universal Records. After the team fell apart, one by one, she tried to get back together with Falco. She offered him his spot back on the Hot Rodders, and he accepted... on one condition; that they find a better name. He always felt "The Hot Rodders" was too unoriginal and retro. Changing the name was easy enough. But sooner or later, a gang is bound to get busted. The Hot Rodders fell apart, just as Star Fox fell apart. And when the time came for everyone to run, Katt left Falco behind holding the evidence, and ran to Kit Kool, the leader of the group.

She laughed at herself. Obviously, everyone could actually blame her. It was all her fault. She had made so many mistakes. How could Falco forgive her? There was no chance of that, now that he was stuck in prison for the best years of his life. Yes, she had sold him out to lighten her own sentence, another mistake. Biting her lip, Katt did her best to shove the thoughts out of her mind. It was New Year's. Nothing was going to get her down. With that attitude, she hopefully strode down the sidewalk towards her empty apartment. The sun was finding refuge in the hills, not drowning in them. The skyscrapers were holding up the sky, not stabbing it. And the black pavement was whizzing by beneath her feet like an inky sky full of sparkling stars...

There, that's much better, she thought as she smiled, once again.

...And Katt Monroe was the most mess-up girl on the street.

Slippy tapped his foot anxiously as he waited for the work tram to pull into the station. It wasn't normal for him to be this nervous; it was the same station he waited at every morning. It wasn't that all the employees were called to run a night shift out of the blue that made him anxious, either. Looking down the side of the crowded station that stretched almost as far as the eye could see, Slippy squinted his eyes for any sign of the oncoming train. When a small light flickered down the line, it only took a quick glance above him at the arrival and departure board to confirm his shuttle had arrived.

As the platform shook and the hanging lights swung back and forth, the light grew in the distance, until a long train shuttle zoomed past, slowing down from speeds well above a hundred mph. The train brought with it a blast of cold wind from the night air outside the station, causing Slippy to clutch his small duffel bag closer to his chest and grab a hold of his panama hat to keep it from being blown away. The train had barely slowed down before the doors had opened and passengers began boarding and leaving the train. As Slippy stood still in a moment of indecision, animals brushed past him to pour into the rapidly crowding metro car. Why had he stopped? Why did he hesitate? Slippy waited a few seconds before taking a deep breath and reluctantly stepped onto the crowded metro shuttle. He had no reason to be troubled; it was the same train he took every day to work.

The cold night draft vanished behind the rapidly closing doors, giving way to the warm air sinking in through the ceiling mounted vents. Letting out a deep breath, he latched onto a vertical pole covered in finger prints from past workers. Glancing at his hand, he noticed his padded knuckles had turned white clutching the pole. There had to be a way to relax, somehow. Turning to look out the window and watch the urban scenery whiz by, he caught sight of the spectacled bear he greeted every day looking at him above a newspaper. Slippy's heart started pumping faster as he struggled to greet him. "Uh, h-h-hi... hi there."

The bear raised an eyebrow, obviously aware that something was troubling the amphibian. "Good afternoon, Slippy. Though I'm sure we would all rather be spending New Year's Eve at home with our families."

Slippy nodded agreeingly. "Y-y-yes, I'm sure we w-would all rather be at home right now. S-strange, how they call us back to work on a holiday." And with that, Slippy turned away to focus on anything else, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bear staring at him curiously.

Taking several long, calming breaths, he slowly relaxed his grip on the pole and the rest of his countenance. He had to keep calm. There was nothing to worry about. It was the same station he stopped at every day, the same train he took to work every day, and the same person he courteously greeted every day. What had gotten into him?

It was a rhetorical question, and Slippy knew the answer. Looking down at the duffel case he was worriedly swinging back and forth, he reminded himself of the one thing that was not the same about today; he was carrying illegal files discovered in the remains of Andross's laboratory. Files his employers had trusted him to look over and return immediately. Files he had copied to pour over on his own time.

He had violated their confidence.

In all of the long years he spent outside of the Star Fox team, doing the pen-pushing work of the average citizen, not once had he cheated or lied to his company in any way. He was the perfect example of the ideal worker. Honest. Loyal. Hard-working. He had even made "technician of the month" several times, more than anyone else in his firm.

Any normal person would be completely fine with stealing a few files now and then, but not Slippy. Slippy was falling to pieces.