A/N: I'm sorry.
VVV
A story named after a song. Well quelle fucking surprise
…Wait, it's not a Rise Against song? Hell must be freezing over…
VVV
Way beyond the reach of any planetary gravitational pull, the unconventionally large dreadnaught flagship belonging to the Star Fox team coasted through the expanse of space. Their destination? Nobody knew. Just aimless flying, apparently. It was weird not being charged with a mission, but at least they enjoyed the downtime where they didn't have to worry about paying off a loan or purchasing new equipment. They didn't even have to worry about training, for the most part; as they knew that a mission right here and now would be far-fetched considering the state of the system. I'll do you all a favor and terminate my tendency for long-winded exposition dumps here.
The hub for the remaining members of Star Fox no longer was the bridge of the Great Fox, but was now the break room which had been reconstructed to include more space and facilities. Yet, only one member resided in the room at the current moment. In one corner of the room, the Cerinian vixen Krystal laid prone on one of the three couches surrounding a low glass table and a wall-mounted TV with a bowl of popcorn laying within arm's reach on the ground next to her. Lazily, she let her arm flop off of the upholstery and into the awaiting bowl below, then would retract her paw with a scoop of the spoils as if it was on an automated loop.
As unproductive as a fanfiction author attempting to sift the internet for inspiration for this god-forsaken contest, the blue vixen flipped the channel on the TV by driving her hind paw into the remote sitting on the couch, a click resounding every time her foot-claw slapped the button. At first, it was a gentle, hypnotic motion when she couldn't decide on what she wanted to watch, but after a while and countless amounts of leg lifting, she finally came to a stop on an older channel—evident with the black and white color picture. Two canines in almost identical suits stood on a stage, with one of them holding a baseball bat in his paws. A chorus of cheers from the audience watching simmered down just as Krystal let her leg take a rest from flipping channels.
"Now, Harvey, are you gonna be the manager of this baseball team?" the one with the bat questioned, apparently already slightly flustered and short-tempered from the events prior to the vixen finding the channel.
"Of course," replied the other canine.
"Do you know your players' names?"
"I sure do."
"Then go ahead and tell me," the canine with the bat demanded politely.
"All right, who's on first, what's on second, I don't know is on third, and—"
"You ain't said nothin' to me yet; go ahead and tell me," the bat wielding canine interrupted.
A small pause followed, with Harvey smiling and outstretching his arms in a questioning manner. "I'm tellin' ya, Vick."
"Tellin' me what?" Vick grunted. "I don't know nothin'."
"Who's on first, what's on second, I don't know is on third," Harvey repeated with more inflection.
"Do you know the guys' names on your baseball team?" asked Vick once more, seemingly ignoring the other canine.
"Yes."
"Then tell me; who's on first?"
"Yes," Harvey nodded.
"I mean the guy's name," Vick corrected.
"Who."
"The guy playing first."
"Who."
"The guy playing first base."
"Who."
"The guy on first base."
A pause followed, with Harvey giving a curious look to the other canine. "Who is on first."
"Why're ya asking me for? I don't know!" Vick angrily snapped.
"Now, wait a minute, I—"
"All I'm asking is who's on first?" Vick interrupted rudely.
"That's his name," answered Harvey.
"Then go ahead and tell me."
"Who."
"The guy on first."
"That's it."
Vick paused and looked disgruntled at the floor, letting the tip of his bat hit the hardwood stage. Krystal, meanwhile, had started giggling at the TV and the hilarity ensuing on-screen.
"That's his name," Harvey repeated with a smirk.
"Well you ain't said nothin'," Vick complained.
"I did," reassured Harvey.
"You know the guy's name playing first?"
"Sure."
"Then tell me."
"Who."
Vick visibly sighed, licking his lips in a frustrated manner as he looked at the ceiling in disbelief. Wiping his muzzle as he turned to the other canine, he repeated, "The guy playing first base!"
"Who is on first, Vick," Harvey answered.
"What're ya asking me for?!" Vick shouted in a whiny voice, stamping his foot and the bat on the stage.
"Now, don't get excited," Harvey said in a level voice, resting a paw on Vick's shoulder to calm him down.
"I'm asking you a simple question," Vick exasperatedly retorted. "What's the guy's name on first base?"
"Oh, no; what is on second base," corrected Harvey.
"I'm not asking you who's on second," Vick informed him.
"Who's on first."
"One base at a time!" Vick yipped loudly, slamming the bat against the ground once more. At this point, Krystal's laughter had degraded into a lighthearted, loud giggle; her tail flicking in apparent content and mirth.
"Hey, don't mix up my players," Harvey warned.
"I'm not," Vick argued, his anger becoming more and more apparent. "Now what's the guy's name on first base?"
"No, what is on second."
"I'm not asking you who's on second," Vick repeated once more.
"Who's on first."
"I don't know," Vick huffed dejectedly, looking down at the floor.
"He's on third, we're not talking about him yet," Harvey abruptly concluded, causing Vick's eyes to shoot wide open and a frown to appear on his muzzle. After another brief pause, he turned to the other canine and grabbed his suit jacket, visibly irritated.
"Whoa… whoa whoa whoa, how did I get on third base?"
"You mentioned his name," Harvey answered, prying the bat wielding canine's paw off of his suit.
"I mentioned his name?" Vick echoed with skepticism.
"Yes."
"I don't know anybody's name on the team!" Vick snapped. "How can I mention the guy's name?"
"You did; you just mentioned him," Harvey repeated once again.
Vick shook his head. "All right, what's the third baseman's name?"
"What's the second baseman's name." Harvey quickly corrected.
"Who's on second?"
"Who's on first."
"I don't know."
"He's on third."
"See what I mean?!" Vick growled loudly, smacking the floor with his bat again. Krystal immediately burst into howling, mirthful laughter, forcing herself to sit up to avoid choking on her breath. Completely irritated, the canine with the bat continued, "I didn't even mention the guy's name on third base!"
"Yes, you did, Vick," Harvey argued calmly.
"Then who's playing third base?"
"No, who's on first base."
"I'm not askin' ya what's on first!"
"What's on second."
"Who's on second?"
"Who's on first."
"I don't know— he's third base," Vick quickly corrected himself, biting on one of his fingers as he started to pace. Luckily he paused, allowing Krystal to get an uncontrollable bout of laughter out of her system before the canine with the bat sighed, "I still don't know anyone on the baseball team."
"You do, you just mentioned their names," Harvey assured to attempt to regain a foothold on the conversation.
Vick just shook his head. "You got an outfielder?"
"Would be a fine team without an outfielder, no?" Harvey chuckled to bring some mirth into the scene.
"The left fielder's name," Vick inquired.
"Why."
Vick sighed and looked off to the side, making a weird, irritated, and tired whiny sound in the back of his throat. "I just thought I'd ask ya," said the canine, shrugging his shoulders.
"I just thought I'd tell ya," Harvey responded surely.
"Well, go ahead," Vick said, disinterestedly examining the baseball bat in his paws. "Tell me."
Harvey looked at him curiously. "Tell you what?"
"The left fielder's name," Vick repeated.
"Why."
Vick just stared at the other canine as if he was stupid, a glare forming on his face. "Because I wanna know! Because!" he yipped shortly.
"Oh, he's centerfield," Harvey replied with a suppressed shit-eating smile.
"Who's playing centerfield?" Vick quickly questioned.
"No, who's on first."
"What's on first?"
"What's on second."
"I don't know— third base," Vick sighed tiredly, starting to lose his patience. Rubbing at his cheeks to let himself calm down a bit, he finally asked, "Look, I'm gonna ask you again: what's the first baseman's name?"
"No, no, what's the second baseman's name."
"I'm gonna stop you right there," Vick interrupted. "I asked you, what's the first baseman's name?"
"No, what's the second baseman's name," echoed Harvey.
"I don't even get past the first base," Vick grumbled bitterly. "All right… who's on second?"
"Who's on first."
"What base do you want to talk about?!" snapped Vick, jabbing his bat against the ground again.
"You can talk about any base you want," Harvey attempted to reassure, keeping his voice level, unlike the other canine.
"Okay," Vick started slow. "Who's on first?"
"Right."
"Okay," Vick unconsciously uttered, then suddenly yelped and grabbed at his head with his free paw, using what little restraint he had to keep from hitting the other canine with his bat. Once more, Krystal detonated with mirthful giggling.
Flipping the conversation, Vick calmed himself down and said, "Okay, so you've got a first baseman. When you pay off the first baseman every month, who gets the money?"
"Every credit of it."
Vick froze in his place, glaring at the other canine with visible frustration.
"Every credit of it," repeated Harvey emphatically with a smile.
"Who gets it?"
"He does."
Again, Vick looked like he was going to snap, looking towards the not-pictured audience.
"Sometimes his wife comes down to get it," Harvey added.
"Who's wife?" asked Vick.
"Yes."
Vick just looked down and scratched his ear.
"Why not, Vick?" asked Harvey. "He's earned it."
"Who did?"
"Yes."
Vick shook his head again, repositioning the bat in his paws. "Look, do you get a receipt from the guy when you pay him off?"
"Sure."
"How's he sign his name?"
"Who."
"The guy you give the money to."
"Who."
"The guy you give the money to."
Harvey looked at him questioningly again. "That's how he signs it."
"That's how who signs it?"
"Yes."
Vick let his muzzle hang for a second or two before he shouted, "You gotta get a receipt from the guy!"
"I do."
"Okay, when you go to the first baseman, and you say, "Here's your money; sign the receipt," how does he sign his name?"
"Who."
"The guy you give the money to."
"That's how he signs it."
"That's how who signs it?"
"Yes."
"Sure," Vick nodded, then about had another nervous breakdown at the recognition of what just slipped through his teeth. Clenching his free paw, the canine put a bit of distance between himself and the other canine to cool off.
"Okay," sighed Vick. "I'm gonna ask you again; what's the guy's name you give the money to?"
"Now wait a minute," interrupted Harvey. "What signs his own."
"Who signs his own?
"No, who signs his."
In a fit of frustration, Vick casted his bat aside, letting it clatter on the stage. "I mean, what's the guy's name on first that you—"
"Hold on, what is on second."
"I'm not asking you who's on second!"
"Who's on first."
"I don't know— third base!"
The blue vixen imploded with laughter, so much so that she inadvertently rolled off of the couch and landed onto her bowl, launching a mushroom cloud of popcorn into the air.
Fox could hear her laughing boisterously from his quarters on the opposite side of the hall. God he loved her laugh. No matter what the situation was, her laugh would always bring a bit of mirth into the scene. Hell, he himself could be terminally ill and only have a few hours to live, and her laugh could still get him to smile and think nothing could be better. However, the nagging mentality in the back of his mind told him to enjoy it while he could, because he couldn't shake the fact that it might be the last time he hears it.
Fox had been debating for well over a month whether to keep Krystal on the team or not. She wasn't a bad pilot, per say, nor had she ever screwed up anything during missions. In actuality, she was an absolute gem to have around. Yet, that seemed to be the whole problem. He had grown so attached to her that he couldn't help but worry about her well-being whenever they were out in the field. Seeing her get hurt would hurt him more than her herself, which is why he wanted to keep her out of danger. Which is why he needed her to hang up her wings, no matter how much she fought against it.
He figured this was as good a time to drop the bombshell of a command as ever, seeing as how her howling laughter only exponentiated in volume the more time that passed. Maybe she was in a good mood today and wouldn't cry as much at the revelation, but he also thought that it might worsen the reaction going from sheer polar opposites in emotions in no time flat. That volatility was indeed a hindrance, but he'll be damned if he didn't get it out now while he still had the chance to potentially sweeten the deal, so to speak.
Tentatively, Fox crept out of his quarters and inched closer to the break room's door. Swallowing his anxiety, he slipped inside, only to get welcomed by the downright hilarious sight of Krystal lying in a puddle of popcorn with the bowl on top of her head, curled up in the fetal position while consumed with uncontrollable laugher. All of his tension vanished at the sight, seeing her so childlike and happy. As he approached her, he couldn't help but fall victim to her contagious laughter.
"Fox!" the vixen managed to choke out, desperately clawing for the remote still lying on the couch. "Turn it off! I can't breathe!"
Fox obliged in the midst of his own mirthful chuckling, shutting down the TV to allow her to recover. Almost a half-minute later, she finally calmed herself down enough to sit up, the silver popcorn bowl still resting overtop her head like an older-style military helmet.
"Goodness, Krystal, I didn't think you'd stop laughing," Fox chuckled happily. "You gonna live?"
"Yeah," she answered in giggling wakes of her former outburst. "I'll be okay."
Her skimpy, relaxed outfit that would be more suitable for a beachside day off rather than a day sitting around in the interior of the dreadnaught laid slightly crooked over her shoulders and almost completely covered in crumbs of popcorn, as was her azure fur and what he could see of her midnight blue hair poking out of the bowl. She just looked so damn cute, even when messy and covered in buttery crumbs.
Fox's tail violently wagged behind him as he started to help her pick some of the crumbs out of her fur. "You've got popcorn all over you."
"Ah-hah, Fox; that tickles," she giggled, trying with all of her lackluster might to keep Fox's needy paws away from her. That in turn started a bit of a reserved wrestling match with Fox desperately attempting to pick the crumbs off of her while she continuously pushed him back. More giggling ensued from the both of them, but it abruptly stopped when Krystal got a bit too rambunctious and slammed her bowled head into the side of Fox's face. Krystal gasped immediately when the metallic clanged as if someone had taken a hammer to it. Both foxes froze up in stunned silence as Fox rubbed at the lingering pain while the reverberating clang dissipated.
The vulpine looked back at her, seeing the bowl slightly askew on her head as the left side slid below her jawline. Seeing the priceless expression on her face as if she had accidentally kicked him where the sun rarely ever shines was enough to send Fox back into a laughing fit, Krystal joining in when her own shock subsided. The next time she attempted to ram into him on purpose, but Fox nimbly dodged her despite having tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. In one fluid motion, he scooped the bowl off of her head as she blindly charged by like a bull, spun the bowl around, and then gently tapped her head with the metallic material, sending another faint, resounding hum to course through the room.
"Oh gosh, you're a mess," the vulpine choked through laughter, seeing the erratic, butter and crumb laced head of hair she sported. Unconsciously blushing purple, she swiped the bowl back and stuck it over her head in an attempt to hide her messy hair.
Fox couldn't help but chuckle again. "Ready for battle, soldier?"
All she did in reply was giggle lightheartedly, throwing herself backwards onto the couch.
Fox felt a bitter taste on his tongue when he realize the horrible irony of his last remark. Krystal noticed the sudden damper on his mood and was quick to question.
"Foxie, what's wrong?"
The vulpine felt his heart warm up for two reasons. One, that adorable pet name the vixen had given to him sounded so heavenly slipping through her lips, especially in the concerned tone she had said it in. Secondly, he was reminded of the promise that she made to not use her telepathy at his expense unless he had explicitly defined any reason against it. That way they could talk as two close friends would normally do without it being deterred by subconscious thoughts that could unintentionally ruin it all. Krystal also wanted to see how she could nurture a friendship without having a telepathic advantage, although she did blur the lines a few times, but luckily Fox never figured it out. Yes, this is my excuse so that I can draw this story out, what about it? Fight me!
She knew that he had something on his mind, but using her telepathy to her advantage would spoil the moment, so she let him speak on his own accord, as much as it looked like it was paining him to do so. Once Fox regained his serious demeanor, he slipped up alongside the vixen and sat down on the open cushion next to her.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," he said softly.
"Sure, what's up?"
Fox saw the innocence in her sparkling teal eyes, and it hurt seeing them with what he needed to get off his chest. Much to his own reluctance, he had to force his eyes off of her before the ability to speak took an unexpected vacation. Yet, even that wasn't enough to help him. The words were leaving his brain just fine, but most of them stopped off for way too many beers and died of alcohol poisoning on the way down to his mouth.
"Listen," he finally managed to spit out, gently taking Krystal's paws in his own. "There's no easy way to say this… but…"
Krystal's eyes suddenly lit up without him even say anything, so his first presumption was that she had broken their promise. Yet, when words flew from her lips in a giddy, enthusiastic voice, he knew that his mind was still preserved.
"Are you asking me to marry you?" she abruptly questioned, leaping up from the couch with enough velocity to send the metallic bowl sliding off of her head and clattering to the floor. "Oh my gods and goddesses, I thought this day would never happen! Yes! I will!"
"Wait, no; that's not what I was gonna say," Fox interrupted, color flooding his cheeks. God, the embarrassment essentially consumed the blue vixen from head to toe. Just as fast as her excitement exploded out of her like a detonating bomb, all traces of her mirth and happiness got swept away by the aftershock. She sank back down onto the couch, uncharacteristically refusing to reestablish her eye contact out of sheer shame.
"I'm sorry," she squeaked out so pitifully, comparable to a little kitten forced to speak.
"It's okay," Fox awkwardly answered. 'Hey, least I got something to look forward to in a few years…'
Well that was sure a roadblock in progress. Back to square one for Fox. All of his confidence was hindered in the same way that a brick wall hinders a car. Jeez, now he was about to let her down twice in the span of a few minutes? What a dick!
"Here, uh…" Fox again felt his words become an alcoholic lard. "What I wanted to tell you was that…"
She looked up at him, pure curiosity claiming her gaze. That innocent stare… dammit, he couldn't do that to her. Not now. Not when she just got her hopes inadvertently crushed. …Now what? He had her entrancing attention on a silver platter; he couldn't bail on her with one of his dumb excuses like he was about to vomit or shit himself again. Yes, again. As if it actually happened before, but that's up to your imagination to decipher.
Internally pleading for the Author God to get him out of his situation, the great, infallible, and always consistent author would give him the gift of uncanny improvisational skills that stretched the boundaries between belief and disbelief… after he'd stop procrastinating by watching stupid YouTube videos when he should be working on his projects. Actually, all of that is a lie… but Fox did manage to think of something off the top of his head to not leave her hanging.
"Well, I've got to reenter Corneria to refuel the ship and get supplies, so do you want to take a personal day off with me while we're in town? I heard Silverstar Beach is really nice at this time of the year."
Within his mind, Fox gave a heart-felt high-five to the author for that sudden burst of inspiration.
Again, Krystal's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Oh, really?! You're serious?!"
"Why not?" Fox smirked. "It's not like we're doing anything up here aside from burning through money. Might as well take a day or two to ourselves for once."
Krystal squealed with the intensity, volume, and sound of a bus's brake lines, yet less irritating on the ear drums, because everybody should know that those little shits are annoying as fuck. She then shamelessly slung her arms around the vulpine's neck, tightly squeezing with enough force to break tree branches, and launched a flurry of kisses all over his forehead, muzzle, and cheeks.
"Thank you so much!" she said giddily, just bursting with overwhelming excitement while Fox just sat there in a love-induced trance, maw slightly agape as the pink heart-shaped bubble rose over his head. "I wanna go see if my old swimsuits still fit me. Let me know when we get in range; I love watching reentry."
After Fox nodded, in the back of his mind he was really hoping that she would offer to have him watch her try on her outfits, but as the door to the break room resealed with the vixen on the other side, his hopes were quickly crushed.
"Great, now what?" he muttered to himself bitterly, looking over his shoulder. "You got me into this mess, now how am I gonna get out?"
Luckily, Fox was gifted yet another needed intervention from the author. As if the author didn't want to slave over his computer and type out an ungodly lengthy exchange of pointless and unimportant events spanning the entire two days it would take the Great Fox to travel through space and arrive on Corneria, Fox blinked exactly four times—don't ask why four—and found himself standing in rays of sun when his eyes reopened.
A large strip of silky sand intervened between a cement and asphalt plaza almost completely filled with people, and an unending expanse of rippling seawater stretching well beyond the horizon greeted his eyes. With the sun looming overhead in a cloudless, blue sky, Fox quickly came to realize that he was standing at the foot of Silverstar Beach, the place he promised to take Krystal to. Instead of smiling at the divine-like weather and picturesque view before him, he again looked over his shoulder and growled.
"Thanks, now I have no time to think about what I need to say to her."
But the truth was: he didn't need much time. After all, he had that god-like gift of unbelievable improvisational skills, so thinking of something on the spot shouldn't be much of an issue.
"Hey, genius. You still haven't given me that yet, remember? You're still on your ass watching stupid videos."
…Touché.
Fox ignored the author and decided to press forward, as he just managed to catch a streak of azure blue flash across his eyes. He found Krystal lying prone on a beach towel right smack dab in the middle of the beach, far enough away from the water but easily secluded from the swarm of other people. When Fox stepped into the sand, he realized that his attire had completely changed from a "few seconds" prior, evident with how he no longer wore his flight suit and instead had on a pair of forest green swim trunks; nothing more. He also noticed how the sand flowed through his toes and around his feet, a luxury he hadn't felt in the longest time. Now, I know that Miyamoto confirmed the robotic prosthetic theory a while back, but this is my fanfiction, and I can give them real legs if I goddamn feel like it.
Krystal noticed him coming and stood up, facing him with her paws on her hips. Now, pardon the author for going off on a fan-girlish, excessively descriptive tangent here, but what Krystal wore, in combination with her figure, could flip even the most devout and heavily-set straight women lesbian in no time flat. She redefined the word skimpy, wearing a scarlet red bikini set that hugged her assets and showed off as much fur as socially acceptable, borderline stretching the definition of moral and decent. And she knew that she was blurring the line between acceptable and explicit too, evident with that smug, seductive looking smile and her provocative pose. Hey, just be glad she's not butt naked on the beach, m'kay? I could've made it a nude beach, you know. But then I'd have to raise the rating from T to M because we all know what would happen if they were on a nude beach. If you don't; congrats, you still have your innocence—now get off the internet now, before you lose it.
Fox just stared at her while she swayed her hips and tail seductively, her cheesy smile adding to the beauty before him. Of course, with such a provocative image in front of him, Fox was nothing short of guaranteed to have some sort of reaction to it, and indeed he did. A comedic spray of blood squirted from his vulpine nose as if someone had accidentally left the faucet on, while his eyes widened and blanched completely.
Recovering from his inadvertent anime detonation, Fox managed to say, "Well, your suit still fits you…" Oh Lord above did he want to add 'and damn well might I add' at the end of that, but Krystal probably guessed that he'd do that already. Giggling, Krystal pivoted her body so that another provocative and fantasy-inducing image flashed across his mind. Gradually, his pants were becoming uncomfortable to stand in. Damn I'm stretching this T rating, aren't I?
Krystal made a glance downward and bushed purple. "I can say the same to you," she giggled sheepishly, biting her lip. "A bit too well," she murmured loud enough for Fox to hear, referencing… well, I think you guys know what. I'm not raising the rating.
"Kinda hard not to when you're wearing that," Fox admitted, gesturing his eyes to… damn this train-wreck of an exchange, just… just fast forward a bit to skip this. Please, just skip ahead.
…
The duo now suddenly found themselves sitting crossed-legged on the beach towel, overlooked by a setting sun and its brightly warm colors that turned the seawater a sickly gray. Fox realized that the abrupt scene change had completely omitted the scene of his quick little dip in the water, so he just now found out that he saw sopping wet, as was Krystal. Now, I could say that she didn't get in the water and was still wet regardless, but… oh my fucking god can I just stop now?
Both Fox and Krystal's ears perked up when they heard the distant sound of a forehead hitting a keyb0on[6ohe5
"What was that?" Krystal asked.
"I think we just lost the proofreader," remarked Fox, looking up at the sky.
"Well, what does that mean?" the vixen asked again.
"No proofreader means we might make silly speeling mistakes that wont be corrected," Fox awnserd her.
"Oh borther," Kyrstal moaned tyredly. "You know, itd be worse if evrething was like thsi," she added. "Like, id bet that hsi computre fixes things without him knowng."
Fox chukled. "Hes porbobaly trying to mispel words now. Ether that, or hes atcually dependant on a proopher."
"Thatd be funny," Krystal started giggling. "Im just imagening you saying does words like their speeled."
…Stop, just stop. Why did I agree to do this?
As the sun crept lower and lower towards the horizon, Fox finally found the courage to speak to her properly. He gently tapped on her shoulder, to which she was startled by the sudden touch and lashed out with sharp claws, slicing right through his neck—
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This is a public service announcement. A TORNADO WARNING has been issued for the following counties: St. Joseph, Berrien, Cass, Elkhart, Starke, Marshall— —High winds exceeding eighty miles per hour are anticipated, as well as baseball sized hail and torrential rainfall. Please seek shelter in a viable storm shelter immediately.
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*static*
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We will now return to your regularly scheduled programming.
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"—And then I was like, I don't even like metalcore, why the hell do you keep sending me these songs?" Fox joked, fighting through laughter. Something in the back of his mind told him that his story was not being told right due to potential heat exhaustion from the sweltering heat of the sun straight above (because the rest of that previous train-wreck didn't happen… or at least I'd like to forget it happened), but be fought through it… barely… "So I humored him and took a listen to one. He said it was this one guy's voice, but it sounded exactly like a woman's. I don't know if I was high or just really tired, but I sat there for, like, five minutes, just contemplating my life choices because I didn't know if, after all this time, this guy was lying about his gender or not."
Krystal was just giggling along to his story that only, like, two people in the entire world will understand.
"But it turns out that the songs are pretty good, if I'm honest," Fox admitted. "Shout-out to K.S. for his awesome songs."
"Shouldn't he be writing his stories rather than making music?" Krystal inquired.
"My guess is that he just does whatever the hell he wants, and won't let anyone tell him different."
Fox almost swore he heard a vague voice from another dimension saying 'damn straight', but just thought is sounded like the waves and ignored it.
Putting the cringe-worthy small talk behind him, Fox faced Krystal and gently laid a paw on her shoulder. "There's something I really need to tell you."
"Oh, okay," Krystal smiled innocently. "What's wrong?"
Fox fought an internal battle with himself that he seemed to be losing, but just like the American Revolution, he put up a final stand and won the battle, giving him a jump-start to his eventual request that he all but anticipated that it would go in his favor.
Instead of vomiting verbose prose depicting every single emotion running through Fox's head that would probably take this story beyond the contest's word limit all by itself, he stated as stoically as he could, "Krys, I don't want you to fly anymore."
Krystal, obviously, was shocked at the sudden request. In a hushed voice that fought to be heard over the waves and the incessant squawking of seagulls, she said, "What?"
"I'm sorry, but I'm kicking you off the team," Fox finished, feeling the jagged dagger being twisted right where it hurt the most.
"Why?" she whispered hoarsely, almost on the verge of tears.
"Because it's way too dangerous for you," Fox explained as plainly, yet as consolingly as he could physically manage. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you were killed in the cockpit. I don't want you to fight anymore so that you don't get hurt, or worse. I'm doing this for you."
"Ohhh," Krystal sighed breathily, the realization abruptly striking her. Her expression suddenly flipped from shock to content as she said, "Okay. I understand. Thanks for looking out for me."
"Krys, please don't be mad at me," Fox blurted out. "I was only looking out— wait, what?"
Krystal grinned with the intensity of a predator but with the genuineness of a nurse. "I said I understand," she said in a lighthearted, calm voice, completely throwing Fox's train of thought off the side of a mountainside railway where it tumbled down the incline over and over and over again.
Again, a stupefied Fox only managed to say, "What?" as if he had suddenly lost the ability to form basic sentences.
His dumbfounded expression made Krystal giggle. "Fox, I'm not mad. It's really sweet that you care for me that much, and I understand why you'd be worried about my safety. I'm gonna miss flying, yeah, but it's not the end of the world for me."
Fox blinked, hoping that the scene would change before his eyes again, but the author was too busy trying to finish his schoolwork projects that he procrastinated on to change the scene, let alone allow him to form a more educated sentence. "You… you're not mad at me?"
"Why would I be mad at you?" the vixen smiled, looking as though the world couldn't be better in her mind.
"Well, er…" Fox unconsciously scratched the back of his neck. "I… well… kinda expected you to… overreact about it, and not understand so quickly."
Krystal giggled once again. "Fox, I'm not stupid," she said with slightly sarcastic tone. "I totally get why you want me off. You're trying to keep me safe, because you care about me. I really admire your honor, by the way. It must've been really hard for you to get that off your chest."
"Yeah…" Fox said, still in what seemed to be either a drunken stupor or a drug-induced high. "Well… this is weird now."
"Why's it weird?" Krystal asked.
"I was expecting you to go off the deep end when I kicked you off," Fox admitted, feeling totally embarrassed in assuming her feelings. "That would have started a dramatic journey that probably would've taken a lot longer than the word limit for this story. We're only at six thousand now."
"So, you thought trying to calm me down if I did overreact about this thing would take longer than fifteen thousand words?" Krystal inquired, subtly keeping a smirk creasing her face.
"Kinda…" Fox answered, ears pinned against his skull.
"Well, you're not wrong," Krystal couldn't help but laugh, giving fox a playful nudge. "There are entire stories that are centered on me and you acting like little kids."
Fox looked up at her curiously. "You mean to tell me that there are stupid-long stories with the main plot being me and you fighting over me kicking you off the team?"
"You'd be surprised," she nodded. "There's even a game that has me join Star Wolf because I was apparently too upset to understand why you did it."
"Wow," the vulpine sighed. "Why do people think that's a good idea?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Krystal shrugged her shoulders, gradually leaning into Fox the more she spoke. "Maybe because stories or games that have drama are more marketable and appealing."
"Still doesn't give them a right to abandon common sense," he mumbled bitterly, snaking his arms around Krystal's belly as he pulled her into his lap.
"Tell me about it," she giggled back, purring at the sensation of his muzzle resting on top of her head.
"I'm glad you didn't overreact though," Fox smiled. "I don't like drama."
"Same," breathed Krystal. "Especially when it makes no sense whatsoever." She turned to an invisible screen and glared at it, growling, "I'm looking at you Shep."
"Jeez, Krystal, don't make him upset," Fox said, attempting to calm her down. "Remember the last time he wrote something when he was upset?"
Krystal nodded knowingly while the author just cringed.
In order to inflate the word-count, Fox found himself thinking about random, minute details that in no way, shape, or form could be relevant to him at the current moment, or just served no purpose to the overall plot. For instance, Fox started thinking about what he and the vixen in his lap would do for dinner, but that was to occur long after the author's name would get signed at the bottom of the page. He then began to wonder what would happen after they left Corneria, which, again, would not be depicted in this installment.
Yet, instead, the author decided to come up with something much more fun than unfunny, uninteresting mental dialogue. As the two vulpines sat on their towel with their tails intertwined, Fox felt something brush his leg. He turned to look at what might've caused his fur to ruffle, and saw a white volleyball spin in the sand for a second or two before sliding to a stop just within his arm's reach. Curiously, he looked up and over to where he presumed the ball originated from, then instantly smiled.
"Oh! Hi Fox!" a fennec vixen shouted, waving her arms. What made Fox smile wasn't the fact that he saw one of his best female friends Fara at the same beach as he was, but was more enthralled with her attire. She wore an outfit similar to Krystal's, only hers was a lime green color. Her bushy tail wagged happily as she ran towards him, sand flinging behind her in her wake.
"Fara!" Krystal yipped happily. "What are you doing here?"
"Truthfully, I don't know," Fara giggled. "I was a last minute addition. I don't have a backstory that explains why I'm here. I'm just here for fun, I guess."
"Volleyball fun, I see," Fox remarked, unabashedly eying her snug swimsuit. "Why? Just so the readers can ogle the pretty girls of the archive like you and Kryssy wearing those cute bikinis?"
"Not exactly," Fara giggled, a devilish smirk creeping up onto her face. She pointed her thumb behind her shoulder and said, "Well, not just me and Krys. There are a lot more pretty girls here. See?"
Fox tilted his body to look back at what Fara was referring to, and immediately felt that urge to spray blood from his nose again.
All standing within the white perimeter of a volleyball area, a group of three incredibly attractive females from all over the archive smiled at the duo sitting on the towel. On one side, A scarlet red vixen with straight, pure black hair and blue eyes stood in an incredibly provocative pose, wearing a tight, black bikini that matched her hair and the fur on her arms and legs. Her partner in the volleyball game was a relatively tall light copper husky, sporting an eruption of cinnamon colored hair that appeared to double her volume, and a pale violet bikini much like Fara's and Krystal's. Their opponents were Fara, obviously, and a silver vixen with vibrant red-orange eyes wearing a pink swimsuit like the others'. All three of them waved as Fox looked, and giggled in unison when Fox didn't look away.
"We need another player to balance the teams, since I'm gonna take a quick break," Fara said, nudging Krystal. "You can be on Arcene's team. You and her against Scarlet and Sheila. Sound good?"
"I don't think I have much of a choice," Krystal giggled lightheartedly, jumping out of Fox's lap and following the fennec down to the sandy court. As she lined up with Arcene, Scarlet served the ball and began the match. Fox watched on with eager eyes, mindlessly staring at the eye candy before him and letting all sorts of thought-provoking fantasies flash through his mind. The only thing he wanted for his early birthday was for one of the girls to have a wardrobe malfunction, which didn't seem too far-fetched considering their tight clothing.
Fox suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder to break him out of his trance. Weirdly enough, it was Wolf, and he gave the vulpine a goofy looking smirk as he sat down in the sand next to him.
"Deux ex O'Donnell is here to save this story," Wolf boasted, a glass beer bottle appearing out of the sky and landing perfectly in his open hand. "Want one?"
"Thanks, but I don't drink," Fox answered him, paying more attention to the volleyball games.
Wolf smiled in a condescending manner, reflecting that in his tone as he said, "That is so cute."
Fox just shook his head. "You know what I fund funny?"
"Sure isn't this story," Wolf muttered, but immediately forced a smile and said, "What?"
"Neither one of us are fighting each other right now."
Wolf glanced up at the cloudless sky for a few minutes, seemingly pondering the actual intent of the question, before responding, "Right… your point?"
"Meh, it's nothing," Fox shrugged his shoulders. "I already told Krystal I don't like drama, so I guess this works."
"But I can still make fun of you, right?" Wolf asked shamelessly, yet with the eagerness and anticipation of a five-year-old pup waiting to open his Christmas presents.
"Even if I say no, you'll still do it anyway," Fox remarked.
"Damn straight," Wolf blurted out, followed by a barking laugh as he popped the cap off of his bottle. After downing quite a substantial amount of the bottle on his first drink, Wolf asked, "So, what drama did you escape from now?"
"Ah, I just asked her to hang up her wings," Fox explained with a grin. "She took it really well, thankfully. Didn't overreact and try to kill me or anything."
"Bummer," Wolf unconsciously commented, to which Fox gave him a rough nudge that felt more like a martial artist's forearm rather than a love-tap. Ew, remind me not to say that term during a Fox and Wolf exchange.
"I never asked why you were here," Fox commented after a prolonged silence.
Wolf pointed at the volleyball game going on. "One, I wouldn't pass up seeing the best-looking females on the archive wearing the most provocative clothing and playing the most provocative game. Two, I wouldn't be caught dead not seeing Miss Spitzie in that."
Fox snickered. "They all look nice."
"Pfft, nice," Wolf scoffed. "They look damn beautiful, thank you. Jeez, Fox, your future wife is over there and you're just gonna say she's nice?"
"Technically," Fox raised up an index digit. "Five of my future wives are over there, but I agree, they're all fine as—"
"Wait, five?" Wolf looked at Fox questioningly. "Krystal is obviously the power-couple pairing; I can see you and Fara; Scarlet… isn't that incest though? Arcene is just one of those characters that only a few people will understand, and I honestly don't see anything there. But Sheila? The hell?"
"Pardon me for barging in, but Scarlet gets more and more removed the more stories that she's in," Fox corrected. "Plus it's almost universally accepted that Scarlet and I are the new power-couple anyway."
"That doesn't answer my question."
Fox pointed at the silver vixen. "And Arcy is like that adorable pet that can't be left alone because she's very needy. She's not excessively clingy, but she's like a Krystal, in a way, only she's not the butt end of some really explicit artwork."
Wolf couldn't help but snicker quietly. "Butt end."
"Literally the butt end!" Fox added with his own smile. "Yes, literally the damn rear end of artwork."
"She probably likes most of it," Wolf mumbled. "But, anyway, my question was—"
"Krystal is amazing and all, but she's been passed around more than Scarlet has, and that's saying something."
Wolf nodded knowingly, yet impatiently interjected, "But my question about Sheila?"
"Hey, don't spoil other stories," Fox warned sternly, causing Wolf's ears to fall flat. "But she's yours for now."
"You won't want her when I'm done," Wolf commented in a snarky tone, raising his eyebrows for good measure.
"Ew," Fox hacked, looking over at the game once again.
"So what is it with you getting the harem all the time anyway?" Wolf abruptly asked, turning a particularly disapproving stare at him. "The only story that I've seen in quite a long time that has me with someone other than you…" he took a moment to shudder at what slipped through his teeth before continuing, "Is the ones with Sheila. You, however, have had as many relationships as a country singer in half the time. What's the deal with that?"
Fox shrugged. "Maybe it has something to do with your behavior. Have you ever seen yourself lately?"
"Hey, I used to be quite the charmer years back," Wolf said, backing up his claim with a toothy smile that Fox could've sworn he saw a ray of sunlight glint off of his canine teeth.
Fox couldn't help but chuckle at his corny comment. "If that's the case, then only Lucifer had a bigger fall from grace than you."
"And you're saying Scarlet's been passed around?" Wolf was quick to counter. "I'd bet her relationships have actually been steady and not full of juvenile drama, unlike yours."
Fox instantly barked out a loud, sarcastic laugh that about drew the attention of everyone within fifty feet of himself. "You wish I was worse."
Noticing that the heat was starting to get a bit nuclear between himself and the irritable lupine, Fox quickly flipped his disposition and said, "Well, at least you and Sheila are a damn good couple. Well, she's a damn good match for you, at least. People still haven't universally accepted a true pair for me yet, but I'd bet they can get behind you and everyone's favorite ditzy husky."
"You'd be surprised," Wolf remarked. "Sometimes she can be childish—like you—but other times she's the best person in the world."
"Aww, look who's going soft," sneered Fox with a smug, shit-eating grin.
"I will end you if you say anything like that again," Wolf grunted gruffly, turning his gaze back to the girls' game.
"Are we really gonna start?" Fox asked with half a bit of sarcasm and a bit of playfulness smashed in there as well. "'Cause I'll start if you wanna start."
Wolf dismissively waved his hand at him. "Shh, I'm watching the pretty girls."
At that exact moment, Scarlet got way too intense in her game and attempted to spike the ball, only for it to catch a metaphorical divine wind that sent it careening straight for Wolf's face. Even with a split-second warning, Wolf didn't have enough time to react and felt the full force of the volleyball smash into his face. The impact left him on his back and unconscious, while Fox caught the ball after it had sailed up into the air after smashing Wolf's face. Fox laughed and threw the ball back to them, unknowing if hit had traces of Wolf's blood on it or not.
Fox sat back down next to the unconscious lupine and ran a hand through his unkempt mohawk. "I think we should end this on a high note," he laughed, pulling Wolf's beer out of his hand and taking a quick sip of it. He made a strange face at the bottle before wedging it back into Wolf's grasp. "Meh, too dry… Kinda like the humor in this story, am I right lads?"
Satisfied, Fox turned back to watch the girls play their volleyball game, while the author breathed a sigh of relief at finishing before consequently letting his face hit the keyb-t[7po;k8