Prologue: Destiny
Sometimes the world we live in feels like a place of constant struggle. As if, for some ungodly reason, we are meant to rise and fall on the waves and whims of trite emotions and condemning injustices brought on by the auspices of some faint and failing force that has yet to truly show its meaning. Sometimes the struggle is never enough for it. It lives and feeds on the very principle that we, as a society of individuals seeking some unrequited salvation, can never stop ourselves from running each other off the streets with pitchforks and torches (mere tools of insanity and impropriety) while still begetting the true question of our existence—that we live and die for a purpose we don't understand, a purpose only definable by that very essence which we wish so much to hide from.
Yet… it needs more. Always more. It doesn't just want the terror and chaos of millennia of struggle to spill over into the greatest age of our lives, but it wants the complete and utter destruction of all nature to be brought down on the knees of humanity—to make us beg for it, the end.
Sometimes we have no choice but to stand by and watch as the entirety of civilization is roped into such a gruesome chasm of black and burning hellfire as it laughs at our grim attempts to sway the very destiny of our destruction. Our end.
And yet, still sometimes, there are days when you want to take the nearest, bluntest object you can find and cut its cackling head off at the closest, ghastly vertebrae.
Today is one of those days.
As second became minute, minute became hour, and hour became the endless sea of seconds that had beget it, it became apparent to everyone in the room that this was not any ordinary day. No, today would be the day that a decision was made that would decide the very existence…. or extinction, of the Lylatian race—perhaps the entire universe. And nowhere in the room could it be more realized than on the drooping face of the newly promoted General Pepper. Though crass and occasionally inspiring on most days, the rough, tough, and rugged hound dog that stood in the front of the rusting and condemnable room was neither of these things today. He was, in fact, despite every best effort on his part to look as calm and collected as possible, portraying an emotion neither of the men in the room had ever seen from the canine—fear. Complete and utter terror at what the trio had recently discovered.
Tick.
The 20-something esteemed vulpine pilot shrug the palm of his hand from his tensed muzzle, hitting the cold, steel table with a twap. He turned a bloodshot eye to the clock on the wall that stared defiantly back, as if daring him to wage a war on it that neither side could recover from. The young-turned-old pilot switched his attention to the ape scientist on his right as he turned around from washing his hands and threw them carelessly at his face, as if giving a half-assed attempt to drown the wrinkles off of the battlefield that was his aging mug.
Drip.
Tock.
A sigh emerged from the pilot as he considered resting his face on the cold, uncaring table, then simply pushed his chair away with a heave of his arm and a guttural motion of unpleasantness as he took up a new angle tapping his fingers on the hardened, death-chilled device with four legs.
Click-clack-click.
Tick.
Driiiiip.
Tock.
He smirked to himself as the ape doctor pulled his chair out and sat back down, rubbing those large hairy palms over his documents (becoming ever damp from the lack of a sufficient hand-drying). 'Sometimes I feel like he just doesn't-'
"Gentlemen, if you will…" The General began to speak again, for the first time in what seemed like decades. "I'd like to go over the arrangements one more time. I know this isn't easy for either of you…"
'Isn't easy for either of us? He isn't sacrificing anything. The doctor is going into hiding, I am-'
Tick.
'Vixy…..'
Tock.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Driiiiiii-
-ip.
A startle, then black.
The stench of putrid decay and feces lined the walls. It took all his best efforts to ensure that he wouldn't regurgitate his last meal from the monstrosity of it all. Like it would have mattered.
Thick blackness enveloped the air, only scannable by the airy gray that lined the dim cascading dirt-light that was the bulb hanging from the ceiling. Were it possible, he might have seen that the rust covered walls were actually covered in the blood of those that suffered and died in what would become the greatest venture of war in Lylatian history. So acclaimed, the 'Lylat War'. Unfortunately for those poor fellows, and almost everyone in Lylatian Society, it all meant nothing. At least, it meant nothing in terms of the War at hand. Rather, the 'perceived' war at hand.
The fox spat what he assumed was a muzzle-full of day-old blood. He wiped the back of his ragged paw over his still injured face. 'I can't believe that bastard did me up this good. I swear to God when I get my chance I'm gonna kick his ass so hard he-'
Click-clack. Sheeeek.
"Come now James, we don't want you to be late for your" a gruff hand on his arm, and a forceful uplifting as the figure heaved with great effort "…appointment."
The vulpine was helped off the grungy floor, with great effort this took (mind you), and drag/pulled out of the cell by the 'assisting' hand of Dr. Andross. Dr. Andross, esteemed researcher of the Cornerian Army. Dr. Andross, stark-raving madman bent on world destruction. Dr. Andross, Emperor of Venom. Dr. Andross… Savior of Lylat.
"And just why the hell…" A few gasps, as if the ace pilot were actually in need of support, "do you think you have the right to make me look like this?" he said with a growing aggravation in his tone.
The emperor chuckled, a deep growling chuckle, as he nearly choked himself in glee. "My dear boy, you don't think I could just let you waltz in there without a scratch on you and think that old Peppy Hare would truly believe you were to be killed? Come now, James, you know your best friend more than that."
The vulpine pilot spat out another mouthful of saliva and pooled blood, aiming it at the ape's feet in protest. Staring at him with disdain through swollen eyelids he replied, "I… suppose not."
'It doesn't change the fact that I hate lying to him. He's my best friend for God's sake. If I knew I'd have to do this I'd never-'
"James. Don't even think it, boyo. You've given far too much already to let this stop you. Think of what I've had to do to-"
The vulpine quickly cut him off mid-sentence, holding his ground (quite literally) as he growled at the tall, stout doctor. "Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare, Andross. I realize you've caused the deaths of thousands of millions of fellow citizens but you do not get to complain about it to me."
The ape, taken aback, had a look of shock and reproach on his long face. A few moments passed, and then the vulpine turned to begin walking again. "Let's go."
"James, I… "
"Forget it. We have more important things to do."
The scarred pilot walked on down the dingy hallway, unsure of where he was even going, leaving the 'mad scientist' to stare down into the darkness of memory. "… loved her too…."