A/N: Alright, here I go. I'm a long time reader but first time writer and this is in fact my first ever Fanfiction. English is not my first language, that being said to be honest I wouldn't do better in my first language. I tried to proof read this chapter as good as possible but I still might have overlooked some mistakes.

Constructive criticism is appreciated, but please be gentle as I am feeling self-conscious and exposed. This is nothing like drawing, me figures.

That being said, I always tend to think up ideas, original and fan stuff for existing fandoms, right before I fall asleep and this one is one of the few I had from start to finish. The idea itself is swimming around in my brain for some years now but I never dared to write it down. After finally making up my mind I decided to at least try to do a decent job about it. I'll never learn without practice.

A few words about the story. I played the N64 game and Adventures with only a few minutes into Commando. For the sake of my sanity and my head canon I disregard most stuff after Adventures (even though I am not sure the story will be completely not compliant with the canon after Adventures) but still that needs to be said. Also, thanks to the fact that most of the canon of SF can be a bit open for interpretation, I went ahead and gathered some information from the SF Wikia site and mixed in my own interpretations.

Be warned, this FanFiction WILL contain a lot of violence and gore as well as sensitive themes like child abuse, non-con (of a minor also) and well violence. I will keep the sensitive stuff strictly as non-graphic as possible without loosing the meaning. But should you have a problem with it better not read this. This will be friendship and hurt/comfort as far as the eye can see as well as character study for me. Mostly the characters from the games, with the exception of a minor supporting character of my own. She will only appear in one or two chapters though.

Without further ado, on with the story.

The first thing coming back to him were the sounds, his large orange ears slowly moving to pinpoint their location. A hollow, echo-y sound, like hitting a huge empty metal barrel, with... a rhythm? Footsteps, his sluggish brain provided after a while.

The next thing he noticed was the fact, that he was moving, but it did not appear that he did the moving himself. His legs seemed unresponsive, leaden even. His arms when he tried to move them, felt stuck. A painful strain ran from his neck to his shoulders, like one gets after being cramped in an uncomfortable position for too long. It took him what felt like forever to realize he was being dragged, head hanging low and shoulders drawn up.

The last thing coming to him was the fact that everything was still dark. Again, it took him several moments to realize why that was, but opening his eyes even to mere slits let the low pounding headache in his skull explode with a ferocity that made him groan in pain.

The movement stopped and he could here muffled voices (if they where muffled because the owners of said voices spoke through a cotton ball or if that was just the repercussion of whatever had rendered him unconscious in the first place, he couldn't tell). He could hear metal clinking on metal, a squeaking sound like old rusty hinges and more muffled voices. The next moment he felt sudden movement again and his head exploded in pain when he was being thrown and landed hard on the floor without any means of breaking his fall, due to lack of acceptable reaction time from his sluggish brain.

Through the fog of agony, slowly dulling to a low ache, he could here the metallic squeak again and a voice saying 'Have fun with your cellmate!' followed by some affirmative giggles.

Before he could even begin to comprehend what this meant, the hollow footsteps had faded and another, heavier metal door had been shut.

In this following silence he now lay beginning to take stock of his situation.

He lay on his stomach where he had been thrown. For one, he had a pounding headache. Two, he noticed after trying to grab his head in pain and wiggling his hands a bit, he was chained. Three, from the sounds of it, he was in a cell or closed-of room. And last, he still had not opened his eyes.

So, after the first try to open them ended in a well of agony, he had to convince himself to try again.

Ever so slowly he first opened one, then the other eye. He was peering into what looked like half cell, half cave, and thankfully he was turned away from the light in the hall and stared into almost utter darkness. It sure made his headache more tolerable, even though it gave him a queasy feeling in his stomach.

Seeing as he would not figure out the answers to his most important questions lounging around on his stomach on the floor (Where am I? Why am I here?), he decided it was high time to get into a more upright position.

Slowly he came to his knees and stayed there for a moment when his stomach started to churn, paws clutching his midsection, tail moving uncomfortably. He closed his eyes and swallowed. After the danger of spilling his last meal (When had that been?) was averted, he carefully took a look around and noticed a dark shadow standing in the far left corner. Was that the cellmate they had been talking about? How could he have been missing it?

As if on cue the shadow moved gingerly toward him, each step accompanied by a series of metallic clinks.

The shadow figure moved cautiously to his left, like a predator stalking its prey and stepped out of the darkness into the semi-light the long cell had to offer.

When realization hit him who it was, all pain seemed forgotten. A veil of anger covered all coherent thought that had just started to return as the kneeling vulpine launched himself with an angry snarl at the shadow figure, pushing them full force against the metal bars and strangle them with the chain connecting his wrists.

"O'Donnell! What the hell did you do to me? What do you want?"

Fox had the grey wolf pinned against the cell bars, staring into his eyes and daring him to answer.

Feeling righteously angry at his nemesis, he was close to just starting to beat him into an inch of his life when the canine started to hoarsely laugh. It was a guttural sound, being more of a growl then a laugh, but Fox got the intention.

"What's so funny? Answer me!" His impatience grew with the recurring ache in his brain.

"You." Was the short and to the point answer that followed.

"Do you really think I would let myself get stuck in here with you, trussed up like a Christmas turkey? What reason would I have?" A derisive snort followed that statement.

He had a point, Fox mulled, but he still did not like this one bit.

"Why would whoever took me, kidnap you too? We have nothing in common, not even enemies. So that only leaves you trying to trick me into trusting you."

"And why would I do that?"

"You could want...make me do..." Fox trailed of since he couldn't come up with a good reason. He blamed his headache for it. The lupine had another point and that irked him more than anything else.

"Then what are you doing here?" Still not releasing his nemesis from his grip, he eyed him suspiciously.

"Same as you..." came the husky voice, "...waiting."

Hearing he gravelly voice seemed to hit a spot within Fox that made him release the wolf. He turned half around staring into space but not seeing anything. His mind was racing, a kind of strange panic starting to rear. This place gave him the creeps!

A suppressed cough from his right broke the spell. He blinked and turned back to Wolf, who had not moved from his spot against the bars, but instead was slumped slightly forward breathing raspy.

For the first time Fox took a good look at him. Taking in the disheveled look and the chains. The chains...how did I miss them? It wasn't surprising to be chained or cuffed when one is being kidnapped in his experience. He himself was chained at the wrists, two tight metal clasps encircling his wrists, with a chain in-between. He was still off rather well, being cuffed in front and the chain being surprisingly long, so it hardly impacted with most things he did.

But for O'Donnell it looked quiet different. He wore metal clasps around his wrists, just like himself, and the chain wasn't shorter than his own from what he could tell, but his chain went through a metal ring on a heavy leather belt he wore on his hips. Looking down Fox noticed that his ankles were chained in a similar fashion, with a chain between them as well as a longer chain connecting each ankle with the belt. It was very close to a straitjacket, but even more sinister looking.

What topped it all of was a heavy collar the lupine was wearing around his neck. It was tight enough to chafe and was adorned by three horizontal metal rings on the front.

What could he possibly have done to excuse the use of such heavy restrains? It was laughable. Why would anyone feel the need to chain up a prisoner this heavily INSIDE a prison cell? Even in the dim lights of the cell he could see how badly O'Donnel looked. It even gave him a slight guilty twinge in his guts before he remembered WHY the grey lupine was his nemesis.

Father...

Fox looked down, not willing to take in more of Wolf's look, and started to wonder out loud, "What should I do?"

"Stay alive..." metal chains clinked together as Wolf turned around starting to walk to the back of the cell, "...and do not give in."

Fox looked up , staring at O'Donnell's retreating back, caught by surprise by his words and their seriousness and not knowing what they could mean.

tbc