A word from the author....
Hey, everyone; welcome to the sequel of Revolution. Let me get one thing off my chest... that SF:R was all a warm up. As my first literary work longer than five thousand words, it was a platform for me to get comfortable with writing, and still is; I constantly hunt critique and outside opinions on how to improve it, and I give it tune-ups all the time.
This, is going to be my first real story. Like Foxmerc had his Overlord series, I had my Revolution... and now its time for my Mercenary Wars. Perhaps after reading Revolution you have come to expect only the cusp of quality from me; but that's all about to change. To ensure this, I have made a couple of policies I'm going to bound myself by.
-At this point forward, no more mid-chapter authors notes. If I find it absolutely necessary to add an afterword, I will.
-Look over my draft a minimum of twice before releasing it.
-After the prologues are through, I will not release a chapter shorter than eight thousand words... Eight thousand quality words.
Star Fox: Before the Dawn takes place twenty two years after the conclusion of Revolution, therefore approximately forty years after Star Fox 64, not including the following prolouges that will introduce you to several of the major characters. Yes, this is a "children of StarFox" story... while some of you may shun them at first glance, if you liked Revolution, I can guarentee you will like this more. Well, assuming my attempt at writing in first person viewpoint works well enough. If not, I shall simply go back to third person. Worry not.
At several points in this story (one example, in this very chapter) there will be a musical exerpt. For maximum effect, quickly look up the song on Youtube or Frost/Limewire if it's an option to play during the scene... just a reccomendation of course, I would like to think my writing doesn't need music to be enjoyable. xD
As a final note, I make reference to Foxmerc's "Dagger" squad, and in particular their leader, Gage Birse, at several points in this story. He is Foxmerc's creation and he is used with permission. If you aren't familiar with Gage, meaning you haven't read his stories yet. DO IT. IMMEDIATELY. ALL OF THEM.
Without further ado, the beginning of the epic that will probably take me another year to finish.
Star Fox: Before the Dawn
By: Cole Petrik
Chapter One: Marcus McCloud
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Febuary 14th, 38 PLW (Post-lylat war)
0614 Hours, Corneria City time
John Pepper Military Academy, Corneria City
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Narrative: Marcus McCloud
I remember it all like it was yesterday.
I was twenty years old at the time. The only blue furred fox other than my mother in probably all of Lylat. Not a soul dared tease me about it, though. Hell, the girls loved it. I kept my dark blue hair just barely as long as my instructors at the John Pepper Military Academy would let me, the back of it tied up in a rat tail. To keep it out of my eyes -and fool the inspectors- I kept my mop raised with a black bandana. The cool look I had going was wrecked by my training fatigues. All we wore as we ran in the snow out behind the base was a thin long sleeved green T, and much thicker matching cargoes covered in pockets, one of which carrying a persa-com I technically wasn't supposed to have on base.
My dad, despite my protests, bulldozed through technicalities like that. I looked like a total loser when I had the biggest military celebrity ever walk into my drill sergeants office just to tell him he would be damned if his son couldn't carry a cellphone so his mom could call him on a daily basis.
At least I was allowed to keep it on vibrate so my dignity wasn't shattered every time she called me.
It was Valentines day. Like every holiday it was one of the few times even the drill sergeants went easy on us. Sergeant Uziel, the scariest looking bulldog you'll ever see, still woke us up at the crack of dawn to run our morning laps around the on base track, but he gave us mercy, and cut it down to five laps from the normal ten. Some of the guys were bragging about how they would have ran the ten anyway. Me? I learned to take what favours I could get... especially out in that damn cold.
We were all still puffing away after our run, I could have sworn the vapour from my breath froze as I exhaled. There was about a foot of snow on the ground, thankfully the grounds keepers saw fit to clear a path through the track. The only person I could call a friend at that damn Academy, a darker golden furred lion named Zeraph Lionidis, finished after me, and took his blissful moment he had to stand still right beside me.
"You ever wonder why they go easy on us on holidays?"
I swore to myself I would punch him out the next time he said something like that. As though the Sergeant was waiting for an excuse to make someone run the track five more times, he descended on us like a hungry bird of prey. "Private dickhead, what did I just hear you say?"
He tried in vain to save face. "Sorry sir, I didn-"
"Do I look like a "sorry sir" to you, private?" Uziel barked. "Stand up straight when you're talkin' to me, dirt bag!"
Did he deserve it? I didn't really think so, but I wasn't about to risk the wrath of the "Mighty Uziel" as we called him by defending the lion. Zer snapped to attention as straight as a board. "Apologies, sir!"
"Why don't you tell me, boy? Why do you think we go easy on you scum suckers on holidays?"
Typically, Zeraph was at a complete loss for answers. The sergeant was deliberately tapping his foot hard on the ground. "Well? I'm waiting!"
Still no answer. As though marking guilt by association, the beast turned his attention to me. "Well? How about you, McCloud, why do you think we give you cock suckers such an easy time when you least deserve it?"
I reached for straws. "Because it reminds us what we're fighting to protect."
Bingo. Uziel stood back up straight again, and his expression mildly softened out of the "red zone". "Well, no shit. Private Spotlights can think."
I hated it when he called me that, but I was hardly in a position to complain. I think it had something to do with the fact all of the other superior officers handled me like some kind of prodigy child. Sure, I earned some of my recognition, especially on the shooting range, but they were practically laying a red carpet out for me whenever I graced their presence. Sometimes I delve into their minds to see what they really thought of me. Many of them questioned whether the hype around me was justified... but others, the ones who were around when my dad went through the Cornerian Aerospace Academy, spoke genuine words of praise.
It was like they expected me to single handedly win the next war, or something. Out of curiosity, I checked what was on Uziels mind.
"Maybe Spotlights here will take after his dad after all."
Personally I was getting sick of the constant comparisons. While I can't blame them for thinking it, with my abilities, it was as though they were saying it to my face.
The sergeant stepped back and barked at the rest of the marines-in-training. "Alright, dick wads! Hit the mess hall and tank up, we hit the range at oh-seven hundred hours, and not a second later! Move it!"
The range was probably the most relaxing place on the base; second only to the few hours we were given to sleep each night. It was where I shined; it was just me, the Carlson 26L service blaster pistol in my hands, and the targets at the other end of the range. If there was anyone that could impress the hardass Uziel more than me though, it was a guy named Dennis. Dennis Hare. We never really spoke much, 'cause he was from another division, but apparently he was indeed the grandson of the legend Peppy Hare, my own dad's godfather.
Dad would mention it almost every other week. "Hey, you know the grandson of old Peppy goes to the JPA too, eh? You should say hi to him sometime, maybe have him over."
I did half heartedly try to strike up conversation in the mess hall with him once, but he'd always give me the cold shoulder. He was that weird guy that would sit at his own table with a stack of healthy food and scoff it all down in complete silence. I don't know if it was the food, or how zoned out he always was; but I don't think I ever saw him miss. Ever.
Sergeant Uziel would go to each station after everyone had emptied a clip, and either yell at its occupant for being a complete screw up, or simply nod and pass them by. Very rarely did a word of praise emit from his muzzle.
I heard him coming from five booths away. He was giving the poor sap there the full brunt of his opinion. "God damnit, Private, if you shot like that on your finals you would be here for a whole extra year to make up for shit like this. You think Corneria wants a useless sack of shit likeYOU on the front lines?!"
The failing speech. It came about whenever the private in question hit his target with less than seven out of ten shots. I was no such screw up; all of my shots hit the simple cutout, but only two were in the center of mass, and one in the head. No where near my personal record, but excuseable in the freezing cold weather. At least it was enough to avoid Uziel's ranting.
Uziel got to Dennis. I didn't hear him shout, so I figured it was safe to assume he had pulled another perfect run; all center of mass. If not to invite him over for a friendly chat, maybe I should have struck up a conversation on how he shoots so damn well.
"Spotlights!" the sergeant yelled. I groaned.
He took a quick look at the score display console on the right side of my booth. "Holy twinkle toed cock suckers McCloud, what is this goose shit?!"
"Sir? I hit every shot!" I knew not to argue. I did anyway. Oops.
"Hit? You call them hits, Spotlights? Look at this crap! Shoulder hits, arm hits, ab hits. Where are my center of mass shots?!"
I didn't have an answer for him. Curious whether he was pushing me just for the sake of it, I read his mind again. Mom always told me to avoid doing it too often to people you know would hate you for it, but curiosity always got the better of me.
"...I can't be too hard on him, I suppose. It's god damn cold out here...."
The bulldog shook his head, and handed me another energy clip. "Have another round, McCloud, I want to see that score go up or you'll be getting double laps monday morning."
"Yes sir." I slapped the clip in, and took aim. The target at the end of my lane refreshed itself and the Sergeant continued down the aisle. Only two shots in, I heard him bark again.
"Damnit, Private Dickhead! What the hell did I tell you about bringing that rust bucket to my range?!" He was yelling at Zeraph again... and despite the amount of shit Uziel gave him for bringing his grandfathers old Desert Eagle magnum last time, he had it again. I didn't know what he saw in the weapon; it wasn't nearly as accurate as blaster weapons, it was louder, had a god awfully short clip, and made a mess of targets. It was a brutal killers weapon of choice.
But for some reason, he got all of his best scores with it.
I was interupted by my persa-com vibrating in my pocket. I had plans to go home for the weekend -and it was friday, today-, Mom was calling me to make sure I had arranged a ride back home. I looked around to make sure Mighty Uziel wasn't looking, and brought it to my ear.
"Mom, it's not exactly a good time, I'm at the range."
Krystal McCloud would have none of it. "Oh, come now. You know your father outranks that nasty drill sergeant of yours if they'res a problem."
"I would rather he not abuse that position, thank you very much. It's embarassing enough that he plowed through here last year to let me keep my cell."
"Well, it's not like it's hurting anyone. Your father was right to do that!" she paused. "Anyway, you probably know why I called."
"Yeah, I called Aryn and he said he could get me on the way from the University."
"The University? No, dear that's way out of his way."
"He said he was coming by this way anyway to pick up a package."
"Well, if it's really all right. I'll see you tonight, honey. I love you."
"Love you too, mom." I closed the communicator. That was when I felt his breath on my neck.
"Where are my ten shots, McCloud?" I was ready for him to say.
Instead, I didn't even get a growl. Infact, it wasn't even Uziel at all. I didn't recognize the voice at first... "You're McCloud, I take it?"
I spun around, and was dumbstruck. It was Colonel Lionidis, in his full dress uniform. I nodded briskly, and he got right down to business. "Let's take a walk." He started in the direction of the sweet, warm indoors. Further down the range, he beckoned to two more of my fellows. His own son Zeraph, and Dennis. "You two, you're coming too."
"Yes sir!" "Yes, sir."
We walked in silence for three minutes through the hollowed halls of the Academy, our footsteps echoing off the brick hallways. Everyone else was in some class or another so we were left in silence. The Colonel brought us straight to his office.
"Take a seat, kids." he said while proceeding to his own seat behind a shining oak desk, littered with all different sorts of papers and folders. He opened up his laptop as the three of us parked our nervous asses on the three available chairs that paled in comparison to the leather seat the Colonel laid back in.
"Any idea why I brought you here?"
"Not a clue." "No, sir." "No."
His eyes were glued to his laptop, flipping through files. He stuck a cigar in his mouth with his free hand, lighting it in open air. "Hare, were you aware that you shattered the previous marksmanship record for your class? The previous was 96% perfect groupings set by none other than Richard DeLaine. You managed to score 99% with the Helios HR-MAC." Puffs of smoke escaped his lips as he spoke.
"I figured as much, sir, but I never thought any of it."
"Hmmm..." His keyboard hand stopped moving. "This is the kind of shooting we expect from a sniper school graduate. Perfect groupings with all firearms, all of the time."
"Thank you, sir... but..."
"As to why you're here, I'll get to that." He turned his attention to his own son. "Zeraph, you, on the other hand, are a terrible shot. However, your obstacle course times, and your times in the pit, are fantastic. You also rated particularly high in hostage situation simulations and team coordination, even though you were otherwise a complete fuckup when following others' orders, but that can be improved."
"Err, thanks..."
"Marcus." He was flipping through files again. "You're like a flat plate of high standards. Nothing spectacular, but you're not below average in a single field. At least eighties across the board. Your dad would be proud."
I was dumbstruck. What did he want with us? I got my answer.
"I won't dick around the bush, boys. Do you know why I was assigned to this Academy?"
I knew that one. "You were sent here to find recruits for Black Ops training, sir." Then it all clicked.
"Then it shouldn't come as a suprise as to what I'm going to ask you three, should it? You're all top of the line soldiers. I would say I don't believe in the strength of family lines, but all of you are the children of a military success story, and here you are. I got orders from the top of the line to have you guys turned into the next generation of heroes, and you know what that means."
Dennis spoke again. "You want to have us transferred for special ops training?"
The Colonel puffed his cigar. "Spot on. I'm giving you a choice in this, though. Should you accept, you'll be shipped off to Katina come monday straight to Fort Birse and pushed to your limits. You'll be joining an elite few, class sizes rarely more than ten. All expenses paid for."
Was it the chance I was looking for? Not really. Black ops types were the kind that went unnoticed through history, taking on the hardest jobs simply because no one else could, or wanted to. We were to become the lead toe of the Cornerian Senate's boots.
On the other hand, the idea of being a hero was certainly appealing. Wasn't that my goal when I enlisted at the age of eighteen? No, I enlisted because it was my last straw. I originally got out of highschool with a passion for music, me and my twin sister Marie wanted to start a band... heh. Shows how well that went. We got a bit of attention from one radio station we auditioned to, but no luck. She got accepted into the Cornerian University of Aerospace Science for astrophysics. I enlisted into the military.
So, was getting into the black ops program a goal? It wasn't before, but on that day, I made it one.
The Colonel slid three forms across the table with a pen on each. "Sign, and you'll be on a frieghter at 0800 Monday morning to your new school. Make your choice.
All three of us signed without a moments hesitation.
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1824 Hours
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I'm usually a pretty patient guy, but when I was excited to get off that damn base and my ride was twenty four minutes late, and I'm standing out in the freezing cold with naught for protection but my shitty service jacket, it was easy to see why I was a bit antsy. It wasn't even at the peak of the chill yet; the sun was still setting. Once that sucker was down all the way, it was gonna get real cold.
Rather than entertaining the alternate ride plans I had in mind, my prayers were finally answered when Aryn's car pulled up to the curb I was standing at. A damn fine car I might add. One would never guess his family was rich until he either told them, or they saw that fine vehicle he was behind the wheel of. It was a blue sports car, curvy as a magazine cover model from front to back, with a spoiler on the rear that simply screamed "Try to catch me." The passenger door opened upwards in a gull-wing style, beckoning me into the warm.
I roughly landed on the passenger seat, with eyes on the driver. I couldn't help myself. "What took you so long?"
Aryn Greyson was a snow leopard, like his father. He kept his black hair short, and it matched the thin black frame of his glasses, which shined with the light reflected off of the icy snow outside. Keeping in uniform, he was wearing an expensive looking black leather jacket, black jeans, and -you guessed it- black shoes. He looked at me, tipping his glasses down as though to codenscend upon me with his ridiculously high IQ. "A scientist is never late, he arrives precisely when he means to." My door closed on its own, and he got the car moving again. It purred like a kitten as we were brought out onto the highway.
"What about the pilot side of you? Pilots are always late... trust me, I know."
"Oh come now, my piloting is a mere hobby. I am a physicist first and foremost."
"Sure..." I rolled my eyes. I knew that Aryn spent every free moment at the university in the flight simulators.
The feline cracked a smile. "How's the academy?"
I leaned back comfortably, watching the base shrink into the distance in the rear view mirror. I forgot that his car had heaters built into the seat. "Shit, as usual. Cool news is that I might be getting a transfer."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, the Colonel pulled me into his office today and offered me a spot at Fort Birce on Katina. Wanted me to transfer to special ops."
"And...?" He said impatiently.
"I signed up. I'm gonna be on a ship out of here Monday morning."
"Cool."
I scoffed. "That's all you gotta say?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry." it became obvious he was distracted. "Yeah, congratulations! I'm sure you'll fit the... err, part."
I wasn't letting him off that easy. I read his mind like an open book. Who was I not suprised to find? My sister, Marie.
"You have my sister on your mind. Anything you wanna tell me?"
"What do you want to hear?"
"You asked her out, didn't you?"
He almost swerved off the road. "No! Hell no. No, I didn't."
"You be glad that she isn't telepathic like me, or you wouldn't be keeping that crush for secret very long."
"Good for me, then!"
"Yes."
It was an awkward conversation, thankfully the McCloud manor was only a ten minute drive away from the base at Aryn's usually illegal pace. Don't get me wrong, he was a great friend of mine ever since we were kids... just, sometimes, I wish he would keep his thoughts off my sister every time we met. It only started recently – as in the last couple of years- when they started taking classes together in university. I knew they spent a lot of time together; hell, it was probably only a matter of time until he went balls to the wall and finally asked her out.
It was Valentines day, after all.
As the car sped down the highway, city quickly turned to forest, heading towards the coast. We both lived on the same road, only a couple country blocks away from eachother. It was eerie, really, all my life I had been surrounded by people who were in the history books, and all of them knew my dad as a friend. Aryn's dad, Skye, was no exception.
It was already the trailing end of the sunset when we left the base, but by the time we reached my place it was pitch black outside. The view in front of the car was illuminated by the headlights; other than that only the moon, stars, and the windows of the beach front McCloud manor were lit. To my suprise, he turned off the engine when we pulled in in front of the garage.
"Stopping by?" I said casually.
"I figured I would stop in and say hello, rather than hit and run."
His mind betrayed him again. He wanted to see Marie. "Alright." I said, opening the car door. I almost made the mistake of trying to push it outwards before remembering the peculiar design. I pulled it up. Boom, I was plunged into the cold again. Aryn went straight for our door, apparently unphased by the chill.
"Oh yeah. Snow leopard. Right."
I didn't even have to knock, let alone touch the door myself. It flew open for me, and who was waiting for me at the other side with arms outstretched? My twin sister, Marie. She was a chocolate brown furred beauty, her emerald green eyes could light up an audiotorium. She was in her favourite vest: brown, like her fur, with a white wool lining, and a black pair of jeans. My sister or not, I couldn't help but think she was just the picture perfect person you would want to come home to after a long month of military training. Her smile warmed me up like the fireplace I knew would be toasting up the living room.
I don't know if it was some kind of sick prank or what, our names. Marcus and Marie were only two letters apart, making seperating our initials almost impossible in public and high school. It got to the point where we would use gender symbols in our signatures; or any time we would write our names, for that matter.
I would often hear stories about how siblings got into terrible fights and wouldn't talk to eachother for weeks at a time. Me and Marie were the complete opposite; we were as inseperable as any pair of childhood friends. Sometimes I would get asked if she was my girlfriend. "Who is that gorgeous brown furred vixen I keep seeing you with?" I would be asked... Needless to say they would usually be completley flabbergasted by the answer. No girls asked her the same question, apparently; as women had this strange power to tell when they were looking at siblings. Despite the fact my fur was blue and hers not, apparently our green eyes really stand out; and are identical.
Like I mentioned before, we wanted to be musicians once. Marie has the most beautiful voice; and we were both fluent in a variety of instruments, we were practically a two person band. As cheesy as it was, sometimes we would just sit together, grab random instruments and write something on the spot. We were the performing king and queen of high school; blowing away the annual Cabaret.
In my time at the JPA I didn't see her much. I was only off for a weekend once a month that I always spent with the family. Marie was much luckier in that respect, being a student of more normal respects she had every weekend off.
Marie leaped onto me, holding herself up around my neck, my physique I had been building for the two years previous holding her petite frame up easily. I hugged her back. "Marc! I thought you weren't coming at all, I was worried you crashed or something!"
We loosened our grip, and she slid down my front until her feet met the ground again. "I'm fine, no thanks to Aryn's crazy driving." I looked back to the feline, who was just catching up.
I got out of the way of the doorway and let Aryn clumsily stumble upon his mark. Marie waved politely. "Hey Aryn! This is a pleasant suprise, how are you?"
Typically, he was at a total loss for words. "Uhh. Hey, Marie! Nice, err.. nice to see you too! Hey, happy Valentines day!" I had to chuckle.
Marie had a giggle of her own. "Happy Valentine's day to you, too, silly. Here, come inside, it's cold out there!" He complied clumsily. It was comical, really, in front of everyone but Marie he was a composed, confident genius. As soon as he met her? He cracked, collapsing into a snivelling wreck, as though each of his moves were judged by the gods. To him, she basically was a god.
He liked her a lot. I couldn't blame him. I can shamelessly say that if she wasn't my sister, I would have been all over her all through school.
I ventured into the living room, absently casting the crappy service jacket and matching boots to the side. Dad was lazily cradling back and forth in his favourite black leather rocking chair in front of a cozy fire in his house coat. A smile grew across his muzzle as he saw me. "Marcus! Happy Valentines day, buddy! Mom's in the kitchen, making your favourite...."
I was stunned. "Mac 'n' cheese? She never makes it anymore! Why the change of heart?"
"Oh, come now. We had to herald your transfer properly! It's probably the last time you'll get your hands on fat foods like that for the next couple of years, at least."
I was definately suprised that he heard about my decision to ship off to Katina... which made me glad, really; because I didn't really want to have to explain to him that I suddenly decided to ship off planet. One quesiton was bugging me, though. "How'd you know about the transfer?"
"Are you kidding me? You forget that me and Sabre still keep in touch. He called me the moment you signed the contract." As he spoke, my eyes wandered around the room... around home. The walls were all a shiny, darker wood, the roof of the living room extended another floor up to allow for the second floor balcony to have a view over their den and the front door. The warm fire crackled opposite my father, lighting the room – and all the pictures on the walls.
The pictures were practically a perfect documentation of my family's life. There were shots of the old Star Fox team, even when old Peppy was still alive and flying with them. There was a shot with Dad standing beside his old SFX Arwing and his Arwing II, as though comparing the advances in technology over time. Another shot had him and Mom on the bridge of the old Great Fox II before he sold it to the museum... one with Mom holding two babies, me and Marie. The most recent one was taken only four years ago; at one of the big "team reunions" they held every year. Mom and Dad were there, Falco and Katt Lombardi, Slippy and Amanda Toad, Wolf and Dawn O'Donnell – whom, he had heard, were both killed a couple of years ago, to the dismay of his father -, Sabre and Kris Lionidis, Victoria Trace, Drake Tuttle, Miyu Clawford -who he also heard passed away stopping a terrorist attack-, and of course Skye and Janice Greyson, the parents of their guest. All of them were huddled around a picnic table, the gorgeous northern Corneria landscape serving as a backdrop to the celebration.
My lapse was interupted by the smell of my most revered food, and the call of my mother. "Dinner is ready!" The blue furred Krystal McCloud, dressed in black jeans and a purple woolen turtle neck, wandered into the dining room directly adjacent to the living room carrying a large pot of my favourite dish. She gave me a warm smile, greeting me through telepathy like she always did... She would always lecture me on how it was important to exercise my telepathy regularly to make sure it didn't dull. "Welcome home, honey. I made your favourite..."
I returned her smile. "I missed you, mom, I always do." Call us a model family. There wasn't a speck of mistrust or strife between us. Rich, famous, and yet still loving, putting our family bonds before everything. Who could ask for more?
Aryn and Marie beat me to the punch while I was standing in the middle of the living room like a dope. Mom of course, spotted Aryn. "Why hello, Aryn! It's nice to see you again, you never visit any more! Please, grab a seat, you can join us for dinner!"
He shook his head. "I would love to, Mrs. McCloud, but I only stopped in to say hello. I have my own family dinner to be at... but I appreciate the offer."
Mom frowned. "Aww. Well, that's too bad. Give me a ring some time, and we can make it up."
"I'd like that." he said, tipping his glasses back up. "I'd best be off."
Marie gave him another warm smile and a wave. "Bye, Aryn, see you on Monday!"
"Yeah, see you later!" He almost ran into the wall when he turned around, and I chuckled at his antics again.
I snuck into his mind. "You wuss, you were supposed to ask her out!"
"I'll do it when I'm ready, okay?" Before I could argue, he dissapeared out the door. I could of course still talk to him but instead decided to let him have his peace.
Dad got up from his chair, his false leg striking the floor loudly as he made way for the dining room, but he stopped half way there, turning to face me. "You know, you two should play something for us before we eat. Do you two still practice?"
I was forced to shake my head. My music was something I mostly left behind... but the idea of going back to it, just for this time, sounded like as great an idea as any.
"Only if Marie wants to."
I already knew what her answer was. "Go get your keyboard, I have just the song in mind."
When I returned, I snuck into her mind; I knew the song... it was a half-rap song I scribbled down a long time ago... the last song I ever wrote just after we were told we didn't make the cut for that one radio station. We never did perform it.
Marie landed on the couch, and waited for me to start playing. My paws struck the first notes, the same little ostinato that was the underlay of the whole song. Eight bars in, she started the drum beat just by slapping her legs... and then Marie started to sing.
(("Where'd you Go?" by Fort Minor))
Where'd you go?
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've been gone.
I took over with the verse. She said "Some days I feel like shit,
Some days I wanna quit, and just be normal for a bit,"
I don't understand why you have to always be gone,
I get along but the trips always feel so long,
And, I find myself trying to stay by the phone,
'Cause your voice always helps me to not feel so alone,
But I feel like an idiot, workin' my day around the call,
But when I pick up I don't have much to say,
So, I want you to know it's a little fucked up,
That I'm stuck here waitin', at times debatin',
Tellin' you that I've had it with you and your career,
Me and the rest of the family here singing "Where'd you go?"
Her voice was as gentle as a warm spring day. Memories of the hopes we had for our musical career resurfaced.
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've been gone.
Where'd you go?
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've been gone,
Please come back home...
But I'll always remember... You know the place where you used to live?
Used to barbecue up burgers and ribs, I miss you so,
Used to have a little party every Halloween with candy by the pile,
But now, you only stop by every once and a while,
Shit, I find myself just fillin' my time,
With anything to keep the thought of you from my mind,
I'm doin' fine, I plan to keep it that way,
You can call me if you find that you have something to say,
And I'll tell you, I want you to know it's a little fucked up,
That I'm stuck here waitin', at times debatin',
Tellin' you that I've had it with you and your career,
Me and the rest of the family here singing "Where'd you go?"
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've been gone.
Where'd you go?
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've been gone,
Please come back home...
No matter how strongly I wish for that lost time back....
Where'd you go?
I want you to know it's a little fucked up,
That I'm stuck here waitin', no longer debatin',
Tired of sittin' and hatin' and makin' these excuses,
For why you're not around, and feeling so useless,
It seems one thing has been true all along,
You don't really know what you've got 'til it's gone,
I guess I've had it with you and your career,
When you come back I won't be here and you can sing it...
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've been gone.
Where'd you go?
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've been gone,
Please come back home...
It could never be the same way again.
Please come back home.
=-=-=-=
A Year and a Half Later
Saturday, September 6th, 40 PLW
Fort Birse Training Academy, Katina
1620 hours
=-=-=-=
The year and a half since I left my family on Corneria went by like a snap. The moment we arrived at the Fort Birse Academy, everyone else that arrived with us was split up into our training squads and we were thrown head first into our classes. Just when I thought the infantry academy on Corneria was bad, I was introduced to a whole new stage of hell. Up at five every morning for a twenty click run before breakfast, after which we would be shipped off to our specific courses. Some were in the class room for things like combat sign language, situational response protocol, etc. The rest were out in the field; everything from grueling physical training, hours on every length of range imagineable with every weapon type, or even being thrown into the wilderness with minimal supplies and a time limit to reach a very specific point miles away for extraction.
I was the "leader" of training squad three. Rather than mix us up with people we didn't know, like I expected them to, they threw me in with Dennis and Zeraph. Denny, to no suprise, went through the sniper school optional courses and was blowing away everyone in his class. Over that year and half, nothing changed with him. He was still anti-social, a perfect marksman, and enjoyed his pile of veggies at every meal. Zer was multitudes more dynamic. Like his father said, he was taking the time to fix his downfalls and was quickly climbing the marks ladder. Particularly impressive was how he progressed in CQB combat and tech-manipulation. His reaction time was speeding up, and he was becoming steadily more and more reliable as we wrestled through the mountains of matieral we were to master.
Although, despite how well we did, we had our problems. Me and Zer always got along fine as friends, but sometimes one of us would screw up and things would heat up quickly when the blame game started... at least we worked together, though. Dennis was a total lone wolf and almost impossible to nudge our way on team ops. His ideas were right most of the time, but he tended to ignore protocol for things he insisted were more logical. Unfortunately for him, and our team, we're marked on following instructions rather than how smart we were. You could tell he was the descendant of a merc who liked to do things his own way... and I knew that he wished he was the leader, because he certainly tried to be on a regular basis.
Not to mention that it's kinda difficult to hide your opinions from a telepath.
September 6th, the day that Dash Bowman signed the treaty that relinquished his rule over Venom to Cornerian marshal law only months before I was born, was one of our few days off at Fort Birse. How did we use our vacation day? We were abusing the different training facilities. Any other recruit in any other program would use the day to go into the nearby city of Trenton to get drunk onto their asses. The BlackOps trainees? Nope. We spent our day in the Proving Grounds.
Despite the ominous name, the Proving Grounds weren't any kind of perilous natural feature or obstacle course. It was basically an over glorified speed run pit designed for three people; three roles. It was constructed like a warehouse with two levels. The ground floor, split into makeshift hallways by stacked crates making it an intense close quarters engagement zone, was the assault path. The second floor, balonies running along the outer edge occasionally interupted by rooms that extended out of the main room of the warehouse, was the CQB path. The last path wasn't really a path at all, rather it was a third floor balcony running along the entire building, where the marksman was supposed to simply wrack up as many kills as they could while defending their teammates.
There were three objectives the three paths had to strike in concert. The first was to disarm a first set of explosives , a holographic simulation that resetted to imitate a new kind of bomb every time you ran the exercise. No matter what kind of bomb, it would be contained in a digitally locked briefcase that required a code that the CQB path – Zeraph - had to hack from a computer at the first 2nd floor balcony room. The Marksman – Dennis - would then be completely depended on to protect the exposed Assault man – myself - while he defused the bomb. Upon the bomb being secure, they were to proceed to the second objective.
Objective two was a hostage situation at the far end of the warehouse. Hostages were kept by paranoid hostiles on two seperate floors in the same "building". The lower floor and the upper floor had to be breached in perfect unison by the Assault man and the CQB man so that the later-breached group didn't kill their hostages before the appropriate soldier reacted. The Marksman was again, dedicated to guarding their backs, forced to switch to thermal vision as smokescreens are deployed to cover the approach of more simulated hostiles.
After all hostages are confirmed secure, the third objective is to simply escape. The term "simply" of course used very loosely. The CQB man goes downstairs to regroup with the Assault man, and the two fight their way back to the entrance with constant cover from the Marksman yet again from the scaffolding. Simulated enemies are poured into the building during this stage by the truck load. Upon all three operatives reaching the starting point with both objectives completed, the simulation ends, and the simulation program returns their time.
The record was set by Special Forces Detatchment Echo before they were renamed to Dagger... the legendary three man squad of Gage Birse, Richard DeLaine, and Erica Ley. They set the daunting record of only 00:04:25. Us three? The only time we actually finished it, it took us a whole eight minutes and forty seconds. Almost double their record.
That was why we were there. The time we needed to beat to even pass the upcoming exam on this course was six minutes. Our best time had to be submitted by the exam date of September 7th. Tomorrow.
"You know why I think we keep screwing this up?" Zeraph said, reloading his compact CQT80 Vector laser sub machine gun.
"Because it takes you three minutes just to get the damn code from the computer on the first objective?" Dennis groaned, his Helios 3H-MAC sniper rifle already prepared to run it again.
"No," the lion rebuked, "because I don't think we understand eachothers roles."
"Heh." Dennis shook his head. "There's nothing to understand. We know the whole course by heart. We know all of the choke points, hot spots, and the best paths to take. We just need to be quicker, and pay attention to our surroundings."
"Easy for you to say, you're way up in the scaffolding watching as me and Marc get preforated."
I growled at them. "That's enough, you two, we have enough simulated enemies tearing us up without you two going at it." I hoisted up my freshly prepared Tectron P-AR Assault blaster. "Want my opinion? We aren't working as a single unit. Sure, it's three seperate paths, but we need to throw eachother more bones. If either of you see a target of opportunity in my lane, or if Dennis picks up something on thermal vision in Zeraphs lane, whatever- take it out. We need to scratch eachothers backs."
Typically,. Hare rolled his eyes at me. "Do I really need to be cleaning up your messes?"
"Yeah, actually!" I almost yelled. "Maybe you're forgetting, but this is a team op, not just three solo missions on the same clock. Especially in the third objective. Every second you cost one of us becuase we have to stop and take out a target that you felt we should do ourselves, is another second away from that record."
He seemed to understand that time, because he stopped arguing. "Now, if both of you are ready, lets run it again. Keep what I said in mind."
Dennis ran up the stairs outside of the warehouse that would take him to the marksman lane, Zeraph up his own set that would take him to the second floor. Me? I was the point man, I would be going through the front door guns a blazing. The simulation AI, a monotone female voice that really got on my nerves after forty times running the sim, greeted him. "Welcome, training squad three. This is your.... forty second... attempt today at this course. Your best time is... 00:08:41. The record to beat is... 00:04:25... are you prepared to begin your next attempt?"
I shouldered my assault rifle properly. "Yeah."
"The simulation will begin, and your team-mates gates will be unlocked, the moment you cross the starting line. Good luck."
I took a deep breath to prepare, then ran across the line into the warehouse. Right off the bat, two red holographic targets I was expecting appeared before me, coming out from behind a wall of crates. Still on the move, I put a burst into each of their chests. They faded properly. I immediately heard the first shots from my team mates. Two hostiles I saw appear atop the crates I was running between were rapidly dispatched, one after the other, with the loud report of Dennis' rifle. As usual, he didn't miss a shot.
The briefcase containing our first objective was only a hundred meters ahead, and I practically dashed through the course as fast as I could while still being able to aim. The moment my rifle clicked on empty, training kicked in, and a new energy clip was slapped in not a second later.
It couldn't have been a minute before I was at the bomb. Holographic hostiles popped up all around me, but I kept my cool. One burst at a time before their 1.5 second reaction timer went off and "tagged" me, ending the mission. Dennis was giving me fantastic cover, his semi-auto sniper rifle taking down almost half of my targets before me. While he was a big arrogant at times I had to hand it to him... he was a hell of a sniper.
"I'm waiting for that code, Zeraph!" I barked.
"Almost got it..." a pause. My rifle ran on empty when I tried to take down one of the hostiles; it was too late to reload so I whipped out my service blaster and took it down in the nick of time before reloading my rifle. "Almost..."
"You're on the clock, damnit!" I was standing over the briefcase.
"Got it! X-ray Zulu Charlie Hotel Igloo Sierra! Moving to objective two!" I dropped onto my knees, quickly shifting the rotational switches to the appropriate letters... XZCHIS. The briefcase popped open, and I got immediately to work. It was a simple, old style "zap-and-boom" set up, with the detonation timer attached to a power supply and the explosives themselves. Easy fix? Cut the power supply. Making sure I got both wires leading from it at the same time, I hastily pulled my wire cutters off of my belt, and I made the cut. The false detonation timer changed its display to "DIFFUSED" and I was clear to move on.
My mind was back into my surroundings again. With a fresh charge in my rifle I ran on to the hostage objective. Three targets popped up suddenly, one to my side and two to my front. I decided to see if Dennis was going to do as I asked him, and ignored the one to the side. I leaped over the crate in front of me with my rifle in one hand, letting loose and dropping both targets. To my relief, the one I ignored was snapped by Dennis' supreme covering fire. The hand I used to throw me over the crates met my rifle again, the sights meeting my eyes.
I couldn't believe it. We were doing it. We couldn't have been more than a minute and a half in, and the hostage objective was in sight; the far wall of the Warehouse, with a small two story sub-building jutting out of it. It was only a few dozen meters away. Quickly snapping down two targets, I noticed Zeraph careening across the 2nd floor balcony along the left side wall of the building, letting loose unecessarily long bursts on each target that popped up... at least he wasn't stopping for every conflict this time.
It has all become a broken record routine twenty attempts ago, this part of the objective. In fact, it wasn't really hard up until the hostage rescue. Burst to the chest, one after the other, and eventually we were there. The moment I got within five meters of the hostage building, smoke started appearing behind me.
"Zeraph, you ready?"
"Ready and waiting..."
I looked up to the scaffolding and found Dennis flipping down his thermal vision visor. I didn't even need to ask to know he was ready.
"On my mark..." I slapped a fresh clip into my rifle.
"Three..." I slapped one of the breach charges on the door handle.
"Two...." It beeped, signifying that the two second detonation timer had started.
"One..." I pointed my rifle up, ready to swing around the corner guns a blazing.
Boom. The door was blasted right off of it's hinges, and I heard Zeraph's go off at almost the exact same time. I slipped around the corner, eyes down my sights. There was six targets, three seconds to pop them all. Time slowed as my rifle turned its gaze from target to target two or three rounds puncturing it, they winked out one by one.
When my temporary leap in focus faded, the room was cleared. Zeraph ran down the stairs to mee me. "Cleared."
"Good, let's get out of here." I turned around to meet the dense wall of smoke that we were forced to run through. "Now for the hard part." We both replaced our clips, and booked it blindly into the mist. Dennis was firing almost constantly, and was the lone loud sound we could hear aside from the horn that went off after every shot signifying that a target was down. By the time we stumbled to where the bomb was, the mist was thin enough to see again.
That was the real hard part.
Targets started to appear in rapid succession, four or five at a time. I took the left lane, Zeraph took the right, barely having enough time to reload between waves. I was amazed Dennis brought as much ammo as I heard being spent. My heart picked up. We were so close, and we still hadn't heard the tell-tale siren that went off when an operative was "killed." Step after step, burst after burst, we approached our goal.
Then the shit hit the fan. We were only metres from the end of the course, back where we started; both me and Zeraph clicked on empty at the same time. Only one more target popped up; Dennis didn't off it immediately, so he must have clicked out too.
The flicker of hope came when I saw what Zeraph did. My perception of time slowed again as I noticed his bullet pistol, the Desert Eagle, was soaring through the air in my direction. Just in time, I shot my paw out and slid my fingers around its sleek grip, bringing to bear against the last target before we were both tagged. It's sights slipped right into position. I fired, leaping towards the exit.
We both landed across the line. No "mission failed" siren. We did it.
"Congratulations, Squad Three. Course Completion Time: 00:04:36. Top honors score range achieved. Scores submitted to Training Scores Database C."
My feelings were mixed, half glee, half crushing dissapointment for not beating the record. I tossed the pistol back to Zeraph, both of us still lying on the ground. I spotted Dennis running down the stairs. "Well? How did we do?"
Zeraph finally stood. "Only eleven seconds short of the record! We did it! Top honors!"
I shook my head, looking up at the clear blue sky, limbs spread out as if I were going to make a snow angel. "We were so close... We could have made the history books right there."
"Oh, quit your wussing, Marc." Zeraph chuckled. "We cut our time in half. Lieutenant Kang is going to shit bricks when he sees that score."
=-=-=-=
16 hours later
1030 hours Trenton City time
September 7th, 40 ALW
=-=-=-=
While we didn't get a front seat to see Kang's expression when he discovered our scores, we did get a reaction out of him none of the three of us could have expected. We were having a late breakfast in the mess hall, with half an hour left until our first written test. The hall was a huge room, at least three stories tall and with the ground space of a gymnasium. It was lined end to end with restaurant dining tables, except for the service counters at the far end where the minimum-wage lunch ladies dumped whatever we pointed hesitant fingers at onto our paper plates. Me and Zer settled with the shitty bacon and eggs ripoffs that were labeled as the "morning special". Dennis, on the other hand, was digging into his veritable pile of rabbit food he never missed a daily dose of.
Lieutenant Kang, or "Sir Hardass" we liked to call him, was a beast of a Wolf, standing at 6'5, and not a square inch of him housed mercy. That morning though was different; he approached us calmly like brothers in arms rather than the maggots we were otherwise labeled as every morning. We heard rumors that he was relaxed on exam days, but this was altogether different. When he approached me, who was half way through a slice of toast, he spoke as though we were already graduates.
"McCloud? I'm supposed to pass on a message, Colonel Birse wants to see you and your squad in his office." his low rumble betrayed the fact he was doing his best to hide his disdain for the recruits. He had been as shocked as everyone else in the regiment when he heard about how we almost beat Dagger's time in the Proving Grounds.
I swallowed my food quickly rather than have him stand there waiting for an answer. "Uh, thanks, sir. We'll go to him immediately when we're finished."
"Let me rephrase that, kid..." I didn't have to scan his brain to know his patience wore thin. "Colonel Birse wants to see you, now."
I got looks of suprise from both Dennis and Zer, which I returned. "Umm, okay. I guess we can eat later."
Kang kept staring at me.
"...sir."
The wolf spun on his heels, naturally we were to follow. Dennis noticably grumpy about having to abandon his pile of veggies, we picked up Kang's trail. He led us through a series of hallways. I couldn't help but feel the nostalgia; being dragged into a superior's office in almost the exact same manner when Colonel Lionidis offered us the position in Fort Birse's Academy.
Although this time it was definitely more nerve wracking. The guy that wanted to see us was the man we almost broke the record of the day previous; Gage Birse, Cornerian legend. There were only a few missions of his we ever heard about that took place after Dagger was brought out to the public for the sake of morale; and even those were jaw droppers. God knows what Dagger did behind the scenes under his command for all of the years previous. Now, the most presitgeous military Academy in Lylat was named after him.
And he had called us to his office. It was like a celebrity taking notice of your acting ability and offering use of his agent. I tried not to get ahead of myself. While I was fairly sure that we weren't about to get yelled at, considering our performance in the Proving Grounds, it could have been for any number of reasons: like how it took us forty-two tries to attain that score.
When Lieutenant Kang opened the office door and ushered us in, the presence of the man himself was like a breath exhaled from the earth. There he was, the red fox that every trainee aspires to be worthy of, lying back on a black leather officer chair with his paws behind his head and his boots on his desk. We all snapped to attention with salutes that could cut glass, we were stiff as boards. He waved the gesture aside like a bothersome gnat. "At ease." He waved his hand at the chairs in front of his desk. "Take a seat, boys."
He didn't get a second of hesitation from any of us. Three comfy looking leather chairs were lined up on our side of his desk, and we each took a seat. Myself in the middle, with Dennis to my right and Zeraph to my left. We were in silence. Birse took his feet off his desk and sat up, clapping his paws on his thighs as though to snap us out of a stupor. "Well? Aren't you going to say hi?"
Dennis gave him a relaxed "Hi", I could only give him a stumbling "Err.. hello." Zeraph was speechless.
"Look, let's get one thing straight; I ain't this invincible god the brass makes me out to be. Every man that goes through this academy as a graduate comes out the same; with the same training and the same reactions programmed into the back of their minds for the rest of their life. The only things that seperate a Black Ops success story from one that gets whacked on his first mission, is how much he trusts the instincts he leaves here with... not only the ones we teach them, but the instincts that tell them a smart move from a bad one. The instincts that tell you how to come on top of the guys shooting back at you. You three get what I'm saying?"
I wasn't sure why he was telling this, but I nodded. Dennis came right out and said "I do, sir." Zeraph remained as still as a pillar of ice.
An unconvinced look on his face, the Colonel continued. "All three of you are already aware of how many recruits we cut during the class year. Some of these people had even better marks than you. What seperates you from them, though, is not your marksman scores or your time in the pit... what makes the few that graduate here special, is that at some point they've shown that they have the right instincts. The ones that no one can here can teach them."
My heart started to freeze. I was sure, that right there, we were going to be cut from the program. I shifted my gaze to Dennis who seemed to be just as nervous. Snapping my attention back to Birse, I braved a question. "Are we going to be cut?"
"Cut? God no. No. " Gage almost laughed. "You see, sometimes, on my off hours, I like to watch the recruits stumble through the Proving Grounds like a bunch of morons. I watched you three fuck up forty one times yesterday; and I was thinking about sending you packing... but on that forty second attempt..." He took a deep breath. "I saw something. No, it wasn't the time you pulled, or how damn quick Lionidis here pulled the code for the bomb case, or Hare's insane sniping. That little stunt at the end is what really caught my eye."
My confidence was growing. "You mean when Zeraph threw me the pistol?"
"Exactly. You'll find in this career that there's times where whatever gods are up there stick their tongue out at you and leave you up the river without a paddle. I can honestly tell you that every single recruit that I've watched fall in a similar situation -and not even exclusively in that course- would just give up and swear to themselves. They take one look at doom, and their damn brain shuts down. You two? You did... whatever that was, and it worked. That's what seperates a Fort Birse graduate from an every day grunt. The ability to work together to pull off miracles under pressure."
I was sighing in relief at that point. More questions found room in my rapidly deflating brain. "Somehow, sir, I doubt you dragged us to your office on such short notice to give us a pat on the back..."
The Colonel cracked a grin. "No, you're right. I called you here because you're not only going to graduate, but you're going to graduate early."
My jaw must have hit the floor. "What?"
He folded his paws and rested them on the desk. "You see, I just got a call from Supreme General Grey only a couple hours ago. He has something that needs done, and all of our current assets are on call. Brass is all hush-hush about why he wanted me to do this, but he wanted me to pick out my best squad of trainees and have them prepped for deployment for an in-the-dark assignment. You three came to mind immediately. It's your choice, but if you accept, you'll be put on active duty immediately and shipped wherever High Command wants you."
Zeraph was still frozen solid. "You can't be serious..." Dennis, on the other hand, was giving me that "Don't you dare say no." look.
I didn't really think I was as ready as he said I was, but I was willing to take the legendary's Gage Birse's word on it. "Alright. We'll do it."
Zeraph made his first move since we had entered the office, to give me a frosty glare of nervousness and fear. "You sure about this, Ma-"
Birse interupted him. "Good. As of now, you three are all but one member of the new Special Forces Detatchment Sierra. Command thought it would be a good idea to send someone more experienced as your fourth member, and you'll probably be meeting him on the way to your briefing. Go pack up your shit, and be ready for dustoff at twelve hundred hours."
"Understood, sir. We won't let you down."
Oh how wrong I was...
((I hope you all enjoyed that as much I did writing it, it's good to crack into a plot that I'm not just stumbling into, but rather one I planned and am hyped to write. Chapter two, the second of our main characters introductory stories, will come soon.))