Prologue
There's a planet on the far reaches of the Lylat System, one far from the Federation and her protection, where the only aspirations are making it to see another day. It's the common bond that unites the denizens of this lawless land, good enough for them, but not for Falco Lombardi, a pilot with clipped wings and nowhere to go.
Falco stumbled into the bar for his weekly ritual of post-loss hard liquor. There was a limp in his step and a fresh black eye. The bartender, ROB 64, glared at him, his stoic robotic demeanor now replaced with judgment.
"Lost again, didn't you? Then you got all sore about it. I really don't know why I keep letting you in here. You haven't won a race in years, and your tab just keeps getting bigger"
"Fuck you, tin can. I bring good business" was the best a woozy Falco could muster.
"Yeah, from the people betting against you. Here's your usual, birdbrain". ROB slid over a glass and threw a towel towards the bloodied patron.
"You want me to earn my keep? I'll sing. Tell you how all this shit happened."
Falco downed his drink, wiped some of the blood and dirt off his face, and stood up determined to speak. Meanwhile the other bar patrons, or what few there were, turned curious eavesdropping ears towards him.
Star Fox V: The Phantom Fox