"Well, I promised myself that I wouldn't do this, but I got annoyed at my lack of updates and progress. Besides, I've been kicking ideas around for this story for months. It's time to let them out.
"What I'm about to do here may shock and appall some people. Please respect the rating, and understand that things are not quite what they seem. And now I'm rambling.
"To make mattes short, Star Fox is in no way near my possession. Now, then. Let it…Begin!
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His breath came evenly, footfalls almost completely silent in the empty corridors. Though he'd followed the maze of hallways for the past five minutes, he knew the way as though it was his own home. He didn't bother taking the time to check his map—the data was already memorized.
His ear caught a slight whirring noise. A camera. Good, he was close to the central office. Though his eyes were being aided by night-vision goggles, the dark of the passageways still closed in on him, making his other senses hyper-alert. The spy—for he was such—paused at the corner. The camera was a standard swivel-mount, made to keep your average soldier away from the door in the wee hours of the morning.
He was no ordinary soldier.
And he would not fail. Not tonight of all nights. Not this mission out of every mission he'd ever taken.
He ripped the goggles off just as the light from the camera reached the corner he was hiding behind. Good thing, too, else he'd be blind. For all of Corneria's technology, they still hadn't eliminated the polarization weakness from the blasted things.
The next step was to blow the bulb allowing the camera to see. That was easy enough. As the camera panned away, the spy leaned around the corner and stared at the light.
The effect was immediate. In a sudden flash, the light bulb burst. He was dazzled momentarily, but he charged forward anyway. With the lights out, the camera wouldn't pick up even a single piece of fur. And he had mastered running silently years ago.
Slipping the goggles back on, the hall came back into view. The keypad on the door was dark—all the better to deter snooping guards or nighttime raiders. But he knew the code by heart already. The guys at the hacking office got those numbers in five minutes flat.
4-9-0-1-2. The door slid open noiselessly and he stepped inside. Once the portal closed, he used the goggles to find the light switch. There, on the south wall. The spy took off his eyewear and closed his green orbs. With a slight hum, the light panels came on, illuminating the main computer for the base.
It would all go smoothly from here.
Plugging in the nondescript mobile storage drive, the agent turned the computer's main monitor on. Locked? No problem. It took all of thirty-two seconds to bypass such basic Cornerian Army security. If they tried it once, they tried it a thousand times, after all.
A few button-taps and a quick confirmation, the data he was looking for was being copied onto the MSD. There would be no trace of the data cloning on this computer. His thick black gloves hid his fingerprints. And there were so many furry people on the base that nobody would think twice about a shed hair or two. All according to plan.
With the most dangerous part of the mission over, the man sat in a chair and gained his breath. He didn't do this sort of thing for the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of evading an opponent, or the money. No, this was pure justice. This data—seventy-eight percent copied now—would reveal those plans and put his faction on top of their enemies.
Ninety percent. Alright, may as well be home free.
The door slid open. The spy tumbled out of the chair when he felt the hallway's breeze on his head. Whipping around, he found himself staring at a Doberman dressed in janitor's garb.
The Doberman stared at him. He stared at the dog, terror gnawing at his mind. Damn it! I was careless!
The janitor reached for his radio. Crap.
This wouldn't do. If the employee radioed in his position, the plan would be ruined. But he couldn't just kill the guy—the smell of blood would set off alarms nearly as fast. Only one recourse.
Extending an outstretched hand, it looked like the spy wanted a truce. This caught the Doberman by surprise, and he halted his hand inches from the communicator.
The computer beeped, signaling the completion of the file copy. The spy clenched his fist.
The janitor was suddenly beset by hot flashes. This was strange, considering the cleaner was male. The warmth just kept coming, though. It stopped coming in waves and ended up as a single torrent. Before passing out, the Doberman muttered one word, the word that chilled the agent to the bone. He knew this mission would have heavy impacts very soon.
"C-clive…?"
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"We bring you breaking news from the Cornerian Capital Courthouse. The verdict is in on Mr. Clive Macolm, tried for treason against the Free Lylat Republic and aggravated assault on a military employee."
Two Lylatians, both vulpine, sat together on the couch in front of the television. One of them was male. His fur was mostly a light rust color, with white going down his front and in a strip on the top of his head. He wore baggy green pants with a matching shirt, which was covered by an unzipped silver jacket. Around his neck as a red bandanna. This was Fox McCloud, leader of the mercenary unit Star Fox.
The other person on the couch was, oddly, blue where Fox was orange. Her body was covered by a pink form-fitting suit. White gloves and boots completed the ensemble rather simply. Her name was Krystal, the telepathic vixen from another star system. She had joined Star Fox about three years ago, before being pushed away by the man she was sitting next to.
Recently, though, Fox and Krystal had reconciled a good amount of their differences at the victory party signaling the defeat of the Anglar Empire, a common enemy. Though their relationship was much better than it had been all of ten days ago, there were still some stresses. This strain, though, was momentarily forgotten as they watched the newscast on the story that had gripped the system.
It was only a week since Star Fox, reunited as a force after years apart, defeated the Anglar Emperor and the Lylat Republic declared victory over the invading fish-people. Driven back to their home planet of Venom—now a clean planet under the watchful eye of one Dash Bowman—they had left behind several wakes of destruction and death from their surprise assault on the star system. Now it fell to the media to find someone or something to distract the public from the horrors of the recent war.
Cue the Clive Macolm case. A witness had come forth the day after victory was declared, making accusations toward a low-level mechanic from a Katina base. This particular person had a clean record; he had first come into the military after the Aparoid War and had been doing unremarkable, if efficient work for the past two years. Now, a witness claimed to have seen the man, a twenty-year-old vulpine, raiding the base's computer of some files.
The defendant had denied the allegations fervently, but it was clear that he was hiding something from his nervous manner. Further evidence came in the form of a broken light bulb from the camera outside of the base's control room—a bulb that the mechanic had replaced only days earlier. The circumstances looked grim for the young man.
"The Judge has declared that the defendant is guilty of both charges and shall be sentenced to exile in the Fichina snow wastes."
"Exile again? Jeez, you'd think they'd learn after Andross."
"Now Fox, this just means that the government has a respect for life and fair chance."
"How is this fair? He's going to be sent into a planet-sized freezer."
"They gave Andross supplies, right? They'll probably give this man some, too. That way, he can at least try to find his way back to civilization."
"For what, to be shunned? Besides, this guy's just a mechanic, not some super-bright evil scientist. He probably won't even know which way is north!"
"True…So tell me Fox, which way is north, anyway?"
Fox fell silent and pondered the question. Meanwhile, the reporter continued the story.
"Here comes the defendant now. He's got a mask on his head to protect his face from pictures, but we'll see if we can get a few words from Mr. Macolm. Excuse me, sir!" The reporter pushed her way through the crowd, leaving the cameraperson to follow while clumsily holding the camera. "Sir! Sir! How do you feel about the ruling?"
The convict was silent for a moment, but responded. By the way his voice shook, you could tell that he was disturbed by the events. "Th…this shouldn't have happened…but it has. There will be difficulties ahead, so we must all be prepared" With that, Clive Macolm turned toward the awaiting police van and allowed his guards to push him inside. The door was quickly shut and the can screamed off in the direction of the police station.
The reporter turned to the camera-holder, who could be heard panting slightly. "There you have it. The case has been settled. Another swift and righteous justice has been delivered to a dangerous, if cryptic criminal. Back to you in the studio."
The camera zoomed out and shared a screen with the newscaster in the studio. The anchor on the set thanked the street correspondent before continuing the news. "In another late-breaking story, another electronics store was broken into and cleaned out today. The police are baffled, as it seems that the culprits—for there must be more than one—were able to gain access through the front door without—"
Fox shut off the television. He was still stumped on the riddle Krystal had given him, but wasn't willing to give up yet.
Falco took this time to enter. The bird was the only feathered member of the team, and a very independent and arrogant pilot. But since Star Fox had friends, work, and now money, he couldn't say no to returning to the team. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn't feel complete without two foxes and a toad by his side.
That didn't mean he couldn't jibe them, though.
"Hey, lovemammals. I heard you two in Fox's room last night. Kept me up for about an hour before you two finally calmed down. You mind not making so much noise tonight?"
Fox spluttered while Krystal put on a sour face. Falco Lombardi knew that the two hadn't shared a room ever, let alone shared a bed for any length of time. But the avian still got a kick out of seeing the reactions that his friends and coworkers put on when he said something like that.
"Ah, whatever. I'll leave you two alone so you can make out or something." With that, Falco made for the lift, likely heading for the kitchen. The door had closed before Fox could finally spit out his rebuke.
"I-it's not like that!"
"Easy there, Fox. Give it a rest. You know he's just playing. Still, I think I'll go give him a piece of my mind." Krystal made for the elevator, tail swishing in slight annoyance.
As the lift arrived, the vixen turned back to Fox. "By the way, we're in space. There is no 'north' here." As Krystal entered the elevator and closed the door, Fox groaned. Planting a hand on his head, the mercenary leader berated himself for missing such an easy question for a career space-farer.
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The elevator door opened to the kitchen, where Krystal found Slippy writing on cards of some sort. The toad looked up and greeted his squad-mate before turning back to the counter.
"Hello Slippy. Did you see where Falco went?"
Slippy looked up again. "Yeah, he came through here and grabbed a bag of his favorite chips before going on to the bridge. He was laughing like an idiot again. Why, did he make fun of you and Fox again?"
"Yes, he did. Thanks."
"Hey, Krys?"
"What's up?"
Slippy shuffled his feet for a moment before responding. "W-well, as you know, Amanda and I are gonna have our wedding in about a week. She wanted to know if you'd…you'd like to be a bridesmaid? And if so, what are your measurements?" The flustered amphibian blurted the last sentence out so fast and nervously that Krystal had to smile. She could feel his embarrassment at having to ask, even indirectly, how fat she was.
"It's alright, Slippy." The toad let out a sigh of relief. "I'd love to be a bridesmaid at a Cornerian wedding. Now, about those measurements—"
ROB 64, the android operations chief of the Great Fox mothership cut in at that moment.
"All personnel report to the bridge. General Hare has contacted us."
"I'll tell you later, Slip. For now, let's not keep the General waiting."
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"Greetings, Star Fox." General Peppy Hare, leader of the Cornerian armed forces, looked splendid in his scarlet-and-gold military uniform. The graying hairs and large moustache gave him the look of a wise, concerned grandfather. Peppy had been the sole surviving member of the first team Star Fox—composed of Fox's father, Hare, and the traitorous Pigma Dengar—and had served on the current team until being called into Generalship. He had been a pivotal player in the Anglar War, joining Fox, Falco, and Slippy on Venom for the final assault.
"Same to you, General."
"Now, Fox. I've told you before that you all don't have to call me that. Anyway, I have an important mission for the team. It's good to see everyone together again, by the way.
"Now, this assignment is strictly confidential. I'm sending a friend over to give you the details, but this is to be done in the utmost secrecy. Nobody must know that you're under our contract, nor should they be given reason to suspect as such."
"If this is so tight-lipped, why give it to us?"
"Quit complainin', Fox! The big man himself is givin' us some work. It'll be a nice break from the break we got after we kicked the Anglars' tails."
Peppy chuckled. "Falco, I admire your spirit. I always have. But…" The aging hare leaned in closer. "I don't know if I should tell you this over the communication waves. Listen and listen good. This mission is only one I can entrust to the people who I have the most faith in. The mission you four and the agent I'm sending to meet you are going on will not be on the public record for some time, if ever. I can only trust you, my family of pilots outside of the military, to do this without breaking code. It's a bit outside of the MO, but this job is much more than the average soldier can handle."
"What are you talking about, Peppy?"
"Slip, everyone, you'll all find out soon enough. I've already dispatched the man you will be working with for this assignment. He will arrive in a modified Cornerian fighter. You'll hear from him soon, but don't try to contact him yourselves. I can't really tell you any more information, but Krystal will be able to let you know when he's going to arrive."
"Will do, Peppy. I think I already feel him on his way. You said it's one man?"
"Yes. He won't be easy to spot, but he's capable of docking properly. He should reach you in the next half hour."
"Alright, Pep. We'll take the job. Thanks you for your complete confidence."
"Fox, if I had never had complete confidence, I would have done everything in my power to stop you from going after Andross." Peppy gave the team a salute. "General Peppy Hare, out." The comm screen turned to the Cornerian military logo, signaling that the transmission had been cut.
"Fox, this man that Peppy has sent…I don't think I've felt him before."
"What do you mean?"
"The last time we were on the base, after the Anglar attack, everyone in the Cornerian Army was there to cheer us on. I may have missed him in the throng, but I don't believe that this person, whoever he is, was there that day."
"You're worryin' too much, Krystal. He may have had a cold or been in the hospital or somthin'. Or he may have just shipped in from another army base." Falco's reasoning seemed to lighten up Krystal's mood.
"You're right. And by the way…"
"What? Why you lookin' at me like that?"
Krystal stomped straight up to the avian. "Keep your perverted comments to yourself!"
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True to General Peppy's word, the Cornerian fighter broadcasted a landing request about twenty-five minutes after Krystal had confronted Falco. The team gathered on the landing deck to meet their new associate.
They didn't see the fighter at first. They only became aware of the craft when it entered the hangar; it was completely covered in black paint. The engine's exhaust was minimized to look like another star in space. Each member of Star Fox wondered what kind of agent this person was; certainly a spy of some sort. Was their mission an espionage assignment?
The fighter extended its landing gear and settled down near Slippy's Bullfrog starship. As the hatch opened, Fox, Krystal, Falco, and Slippy formed a half-circle around its starboard side.
The hatch opened, revealing a set of black fox ears sticking up over a Cornerian Army helmet. The head covering was painted camouflage, with the visor being a translucent green. The figure removed the helmet and jumped to the deck as the canopy closed.
The man was young; at least, younger than any of Star Fox's current members. He seemed to be about twenty. The man was of vulpine descent, covered by an orange-red coat not too dissimilar from General Hare's uniform. His chin and neck were white; a typical pattern for a red fox.
His clothes were less typical. Where one might have expected a uniform of sorts, this man wore a plain red T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His arms and shoulders were covered by a heavy, dull-yellow coat that was held closed only by two clasps at his neck. Possibly the most striking thing, though, was the sword hanging at his left hip. It was possible that the blade was only for show, but the faint scent of blood was barely detectable through the thick smell of polish.
The man came forth, green eyes burning with distrust.
Fox held out a hand. "Hello there, sir. Welcome to the Great Fox. I'm Fox—"
"Fox McCloud, leader of the Star Fox mercenary team." The man spoke in a clipped, cold tone. "You are the credited savior of Lylat on four separate occasions and a mass-murderer, known for skilled, brutal flying. You also don't know how to hold a team together."
Krystal spoke up. "Sir, that's hardly fair—"
The man turned on her. "Krystal; last name unknown or nonexistent. You come from another section of the galaxy, far away from the Lylat System. Newest member of Star Fox and the telepathic survivor of your race. When pushed away by Fox after the Aparoid War, you ran to Panther Caroso, becoming a known cohort of Star Wolf while taking up a career in military piloting. Your last physical examination showed that you have had sex with Caroso on at least one occasion." The Star Fox pilots all inhaled as one, each for their own reasons. It took a moment, but tears started coursing down Krystal's face.
When Slippy opened his mouth to object, the agent turned to him. "Slippy Toad. Son of Research Director Beltino Toad. Mechanic of Star Fox, best friend of Fox McCloud, and a notoriously bad pilot. You and your father constructed an unlicensed submersible capable of firing a nearly infinite amount of energy torpedoes. If it hadn't been destroyed with the original Great Fox, it could have been captured and used by terrorists to besiege any planet with an ocean."
The man turned from a stunned Slippy to Falco before anyone could react. "Falco Lombardi. Ace pilot of Star Fox. You reveal little about your history, but you've been linked to multiple delinquencies. As a former member of the now-disbanded Space Hot Rodders, you have a connection with gang members. You seem to hold a sort of crush on Katt Monroe, but are too childish or foolish to recognize on it."
The man pushed past Fox and made for the elevator. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be finding my own way to the guest rooms. We'll meet on the bridge at eight o'clock sharp tomorrow morning, Cornerian time. There, I will brief you on your upcoming mission."
The lift doors opened, allowing the young agent entrance. As the doors close, the only sounds were the cooling engines of his fighter and the sobs of a distraught and embarrassed woman.
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"Well, I just killed the story, now didn't I? I introduce two of the pivotal players of this fic, and neither of them is fit in their proper role. Hell, you all don't even know the rude agent's name yet.
"Well, for those who are curious, he's on my profile. As are the other two main OCs for this story. If you want spoilers, then feel free to check them out. Some of you may already know two of them, but they're not portrayed as their true selves quite yet.
"I probably sound like an idiot. I've got the first part of the next chapter forming, so I may be able to get it out soon. Don't count on it, but it's possible.
"Until then, feel free to be angry at these new people. It won't do you much good, but hey, why not?
"I think my meds have worn off for the night. I'm feeling rather mellow…not your problem. Ciao chow, all, and remember: this is far from over."