Author's Note: Just to disclaim, this is the second attempt at the gift fic.

Let's see here… I think I got the date right… Here it goes… HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FOXPILOT! Yeah, I know. Just roll with it for a sec here.

Another fanfic already? Mhm, but it's completely different from the first one. Enjoy~

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Empire State of Mind

Act I

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Falco burst through the glass doors of the local Cornerian bar, Pub 64, with a proud smirk on his face. His friend, Fox, took his time walking in seconds after, scanning the room of local regulars; his boots clicked along the metal floor.

"Falco, you sure this is a good idea?"

"Don't worry 'bout it, Foxy. What Peppy doesn't know won't hurt'em."

See, they had just arrived here after an excruciatingly exhausting journey of one yard to the Corneria Headquarters, where General Pepper congratulated them for another successful campaign. Then he went off into some soulful, reminiscent junk about those good 'ol days of when the original Star Fox team served the galaxy with James McCloud as their leader. If only Pepper realised that it was the last thing Fox needed: to be reminded that his parents were dead, and how he was labelled as someone in need of mental care due to seeing ghosts of his father guiding him (via some deus ex machina that seemed to save him from total mass destruction. Every. Single. Time.).

So here they were, hoping to get away from all that for a day. The pub was all Falco's idea, since Fox was nice enough to let him take command for today before all superiority returned back to him, meaning he could boss the crap outta everyone again. Yay!

Fox crossed his arms. "I get the party idea, but renting an entire bar? I seriously doubt you can pull the blame on Slip for this one this time."

Falco clasped a blue wing on his shoulders. "Dat's 'cause we don't need to worry 'bout blamin' anybody. 'Dis is all off of Pepper's tab." Between his fingers was a chunky, top-curved box with a slot in the bottom.

Fox's eyes went wide. "Is that his cartridge?"

"Yup. Took it when he wasn't lookin', and I have 'dis too." He held up grey, triple-handle controller with colourful buttons and an analog stick in the centre.

"You even stole his controller? Are you crazy? Why'd you steal those from him?"

"Don't worry 'bout it, McCloud. It's not stealin'; it's borrowin'. What he doesn't know won't hurt'em. Do ya even know what you can do with 'dis?" He fanned the objects in front of Fox's face. "Things. Many, many things."

"I don't know about this…"

"Loosin' up, why don'cha? Besides, think of it as a birthday gift from meh, birthday boy."

"My birthday was last month…"

"Meanin' I'm 11 months early! Don't say I never gotcha anythin'. We'll be havin' a great time today! Let's get ta work, shall we?" He pulled Fox along to the side, avoiding as much eye contact with the shady foxes in the corner as possible. "So d'first thing we gotta do is get 'dis cartridge into some grey boxy thing."

Fox glanced to his right, seeing a grey box and a couple jugs of beer sitting next to the bar counter. "What does it look like?"

"A grey box with one slot for d'cartridge, four plug-in slots for the controller thingies. Tell meh if ya find it."

He decided to stay silent as Falco scanned the pub. Fox watched as his feathers moved throughout the room, checking under every nook and cranny. The bird lifted up every jug (even while people were drinking them), ducked under every table and chair, and even took off the fedoras of waiting cats, mutts, and whoever else's orders haven't arrived.

After such a frivolous attempt in finding the box, Falco came back and plopped his head onto the table next to Fox.

"I found the box by the countertop," Fox said.

Falco glanced up, seeing the object sitting within eyeshot. His eyes widened.

"I found the box by the countertop! You can stop lookin' now." He flashed a cheeky grin. "We make a good team, don't we?"

Fox rolled his eyes as he watched Falco hook everything up onto the box. Strange devices, really.

"Hook 'dis here, stuff 'dis there, and there ya go." Falco stepped back and marvelled at his handiwork. He held onto the controller, and grinned back at Fox. "See, nu'in to it—"

The bar door burst open, leaving dust and mist to trail in the way all classic western movies start. The clink of boots got louder as a group of four entered the pub with an air of menace, and roses.

A wolf in a trench coat stood by the door, scanning the room with his one good eye, other covered by an eyepatch. Huh. Cowboy pirate detective. What a tale those two never expected to tell.

A few goons—a lizard, pig, and ape—walked into the room, armed with blasters while threatening people with "Stay down." and "You're next, pal." The regulars froze in their places, watching as barrels get trained to their heads, never realising they had the advantage with 50 of them (who were armed as well) versus those three.

"Can't let you do that, Star Fox," the wolf said. Huh. Cowboy pirate detective with a British accent. That was new.

"Star Wolf." The two had a stare down. "What do you want, Wolf?" Fox growled through his teeth. Seeing how the situation seemed under control (or at least as far as leaving Fox as a distraction went), Falco continued tampering with the box, pulling out an instructional manual that sat from under it.

"I demand a rematch," Wolf snarled. "Right here, right now."

"This'll be quick, then."

Fox stepped forward, grabbing his blaster— he stopped. His limbs wouldn't move, still in the air. His feet soon froze as well.

"Got it!" Falco cried. "Press A to fire, then use d'analog stick to move…"

Fox's arms jerked as he leaped into the air. "Falco, what the hell is going on?" He started firing his blaster, which was horribly misaimed. Lasers bounced off ceiling lights. Light bulbs got shattered. Men were screaming like little girls (because you know, screaming made action scenes feel complete).

"Press L to tilt left, R to tilt right…"

Fox stumbled over to Wolf's direction in a slithering motion, causing the rest of the Star Wolf crew to surround him with their blasters aimed straight ahead.

"Press Z to do a barrel roll. Huh."

They all fired at the fox when he jumped up and spun in the air. Lasers deflected off of his shoes, bouncing back. One, two, and three goons were down, and out for the count. The crowd roared like thunder as Fox dropped to the ground with perfect finesse. Wolf stared in disbelief.

Cowboy pirate detective with a British accent and sport fans. Huh.

Falco tampered on. "B button to drop…bombs? What bombs?" His blue finger tapped the button. In response, Fox pulled out a small grenade from his pocket.

His eyes widened. Nonononononono! Then he chucked it at Wolf, who ran out of the way as quickly as he could. The lizard stood up with a hand clutching his head. Three, two, one, and the grenade exploded. Tables flew, one hitting the lizard goon's neck and sending him plowing out the door. The shock from the blast sent the entire group flying out the pub, a huge hole where they shot through. Fox and Falco were left staring at the leftover broken wall.

Those men were guys who have survived explosions that could've otherwise obliterated their cockpits and kill the living hell out of everybody. They were freakin' Jesus Christs, for gosh sake, and yet they were half-dead from this alone.

"Uh, well, looks like we took care of dat, huh?" Falco let out a shaky chuckle, matting the blue feathers that ruffled from the blast. He pressed the power button on the box and Fox felt his muscles release. Then the fox stomped over and swiped the controller from Falco's hands.

"Never. Again."

Falco flung his hands in the air. "No harm, no foul."

"You blew up the place! You call that no foul?"

"Technically, you blew up d'place—" Fox threw the controller at Falco's face before he could say anymore. Then he stomped away to the bar and called the bartender over for a beer.

Falco rubbed his beak as he picked up the controller. "Uptight little prick…" he grumbled. He glanced around the place. All the regulars returned to drinking and chatting. The party hadn't started, so he had time to pull a few extra strings.

He walked up to a spotted leopard in a red dress shirt, who was chugging down a bottle of rum. Then Falco whispered in his ear.

"Call up d'rest of d'guys for meh, will ya?"

Tune4Toons: And that is part one of this epically little saga of pub adventures. Yup. You heard me right. Part one? Where's two? I would have just combined it, but I stalled instead~ So this'll be a two-shot. Hope you're liking it so far, F-p! Credit goes to you for the inspiration. And to you readers, I hope you liked it too.

Special thanks to Loke Groundrunner for being beta! Feedback and criticism are still always appreciated.

Stay tuned for part two, coming soon to a computer screen near you.