What Ever Happened?
I want to be forgotten, and I don't want to be reminded.
Fox was staring at a yellow box of cheese with nutritional values, ingredients, and small disclaimers written over it, but at some point he stopped reading it all and trailed into other thoughts. He jolted to reality when someone brushed by him, mumbling apologies and trying to reach for what Fox was standing in front of.
"Oh, sorry," Fox said, putting the box of cheese in his basket. He glanced down at his list, seeing "Broccoli/Carrots" scrawled on the paper. He thought getting what he needed haphazardly would help get his mind off things; instead, it just made him bored.
The aisle of vegetables got closer in sight, and funnily, even at a very busy time for NeoGeoMart, there was only one person hunched over the row. He approached it, but a group of kids ran around the corner and bumped into him, making him fall over.
"Damn it…" he muttered. He stood up and turned around, but the kids bolted away laughing. He walked to the vegetable aisle and tore out two green bags from the container on the side.
"Cussing by children? Classy, huh."
Fox's ears twitched. "Err, heh well I wasn't trying to…"
Noticing gray fur, Fox turned at his speaker, who smirked when he made eye-contact.
Wolf wasn't the person he wanted to see right now.
He must have done something to make that apparent, because Wolf's smirk grew into a full-blown grin on his muzzle, and he started to laugh.
Fox cursed. "Ugh, why are you here?"
"Same reason why you're here, McCloud," Wolf said, looking as if he was trying to hold back his laughter. Fox sighed and picked up a couple stalks of broccoli before Wolf went on. "What? God forbid I want to eat."
"I just wouldn't think…" Fox looked for the words, "…I don't know, you'd ever be in a public grocery store."
"There are private ones now?" Wolf chuckled again. "Right now, I gotta live a life just like everyone else."
Now that he thought of it, he hadn't ever seen Wolf in normal clothes. Other than yesterday and a couple times during the Aparoid Invasion, he hadn't seen Wolf in-person at all. Seeing the person he's been in numerous dogfights with, now in jeans and a black polo, would have made him laugh any other day.
Wolf tied a bag of vegetables and tossed them in his cart, which Fox noticed was nearly full. "We were just kicked out of Sargasso a few days ago," Wolf continued. "I need to eat something, and fast-food's not cuttin' it."
"Hmm."
"That all you know how to say?"
"Well you see, I don't really want to talk to you right now."
Wolf smirked again. "Aww, morning sickness?"
"Shut up."
"Moody much? You tried to talk to me yesterday."
Fox shrugged, struggling to tie a bag. He tossed it in his cart and looked back up; Wolf pushed his cart forward and back again, absent-mindedly. "Must be nice," he mumbled. "Being rich, having everyone in the army kissing your ass—"
"If you're implying my life is awesome, you're sadly mistaken," Fox said.
Wolf stared at him for a few seconds. "How can it not be? Everybody loves you, you can have any job you want, do anything illegal and not get in trouble. You've got so much to abuse and your life's horrible? Please."
Fox gritted his teeth and almost wanted to hit Wolf for how much about his life he didn't understand. "It just is, okay?" he said. "And I'm pretty pissed right now—why am I talking to you anyway?"
"Why are you?" Wolf smirked again.
"I could be gone by now."
"You could."
"So I'm leaving," Fox said, walking away.
"That's great. But, you came here for a reason, right?"
Fox turned around, seeing a half filled bag of broccoli he left on the counter. The lupine laughed and walked away, leaving Fox cursing to himself.
"You'll be there, right?"
"Yeah yeah, one sec."
Fox's eyes gazed over the newspaper. The words were covered in pages of bad journalism, but they caught his eye.
Two found dead in empty Zonessian warehouse. Cause of death undetermined.
"Fox."
"Hold on, Slippy."
Fox sat up from his bed, trying to get in a more comfortable position.
"Yesterday, in a room of an empty warehouse in Encinitas, Zoness, two bodies were found, deceased. They were both male otters, appearing to be in their mid-30s. However, not only is there no identification found in any Lylatian database for these two, as the IDs on their persons were fake, but there is no apparent cause of death. No injuries, no diseases, no organ failures—their brains just seemed to shut off.
"The warehouse in which they were found was a deserted Aerial-Tactical supply building. The company left the building two Zonessian years ago to relocate in Cruz Bay—"
"Fooooox…"
"Alright. I'm coming, okay?"
Fox put the newspaper on the desk near his bed, leaving it open to that page. He rolled out of his bed, patting away strands of fur from his shirt with his free hand. "When does it start, again?" he asked into the comm.
"7:15, kinda. Well like, the ceremony starts at 7:15, but being, you know, Star Fox, we should be there earlier. I'd say about an hour."
Fox walked into his bathroom and started the sink, grabbing his toothbrush. "You'd better be walking out your door if you want to make it there on time," Slippy said. "At least dressed."
He looked at his reflection in the mirror, and two lazy green eyes looked back at him. Still in a T-shirt and jeans. "Relax Slip," he said. "I'm nearly ready."
He looked past the table, at the rest of the congregation. Past one of the corners, he could see the kitchen. The scent of dinner was still inviting him. There was some sort of soft orchestral music playing through the speakers, but it was hard to hear over the murmurs of nearly a hundred people talking. Whoever decorated the room for the evening seemed to have wasted a lot of credits.
People were chatting to each other, sitting at tables and standing in small groups around the room. Ambassadors and military leaders from different planets were conversing, sipping on wine. Everyone was dressed formally, in a similar looking tuxedo like the one he was wearing, or some intricate dress, but it seemed like they were a bunch of children. A bunch of teenagers, trapped in formal outfits, gossiping around the school cafeteria.
He felt like this wasn't as much as a waste of taxpayer's money to celebrate Star Fox's success as it was a waste of taxpayer's money to talk to each other.
As if on cue, a brown-furred hare he somewhat recognized walked towards him and stretched out his hand. "You're team Star Fox, I presume?" It was more of a statement than a question.
Fox nodded, shaking his hand. The hare went on shaking the hands of the rest of the team sitting at the table, grinning and saying their names as he did so. "Falco…Krystal…Slippy…and ah, General Peppy!"
Peppy smiled and stood up. "Bernhard! Nice to see you again."
"How are you taking your new position as General?"
"It's still odd hearing it before my name."
They made more small-talk, Fox assumed. Other people like him had talked with them throughout the night, with the inner edges of their tuxedos cluttered with military badges. Fox took a sip of whatever he was drinking—the name was too long to remember—and drifted back off to daydreaming.
"Fox, you remember Bernhard," Peppy said, grabbing his attention. "The Katinian Minister of Defense."
"Yeah." Fox smiled did a quick nod of his head. It seemed almost mechanical, now.
Bernhard nodded to him and dragged an empty chair from a different table to theirs, squeezing himself between Peppy and Falco. "It's great to meet all of you, in person I mean. I'd go on about how grateful I am for your help in the Aparoid invasion, but I'm sure you've heard it a hundred times by now, right?"
Everyone else at the table smiled, but Fox just took another sip of his alcohol. The hare went on. "I'd love to chat, but we have some pressing matters in Katina. You see, there's quite the looming threat of a pirate attack on one of our supply ships."
"I thought Husky Squad was taking care of that," Fox said.
"They were, but left after the problem diminished. Now, there's frequent reports of unauthorized crafts in Katinian airspace. We sent a few military squads through there, and found nothing."
Fox didn't say anything, but he apparently looked confused enough. "The problem is," Bernhard began, "that they're practically invisible when there's any sign of military action, but when they leave, there's dozens of reports of strange spacecrafts floating above our major ports."
Fox nodded. The hare moved his eyes around the room, looking at people. "I want you to help us spring a trap," he said in a hushed voice. "We can't discuss much about it now, but if you consider it and contact me, I'll go in the details."
"Ah," Fox said, "we'll think about it."
"I know you're all tired, just having saved the Lylat System and all," Bernhard made an irritating laugh when he said this, "but it'd help us out a lot. I hope you talk to you later!"
Bernhard walked from the table, leaving his chair pushed out.
"Not interested," Falco stated, slumping back in his chair. Fox turned to Slippy, who just shrugged his shoulders, and Krystal, who was just looking at the space in front of her.
"You guys should take the offer," Peppy said, looking at the rest of the team. "At least, it would make you all a little less stressed."
Fox sighed. "You said it yourself yesterday; we don't have a mother ship, and doing a mission like this without one is just dangerous."
"True." Peppy sighed. "But still, that's something you can negotiate with Bernhard. See how big this project is and if he's willing to loan you a carrier."
Fox shrugged. The table was silent again, and he listened to the drone of outside conversation. "Really, I just wish you guys would talk more," Peppy said. "What's the deal? It's so eerie when you're all silent."
"Well, I've always hated these things," Falco said. "Much better stuff I could be doing than wasting my time here.."
Peppy gave Fox a questioning look, and Fox wasn't really sure how to respond to it. He'd always been wondering why he was more moody than usual. Blaming his stress on the Aparoid invasion was easy, but war wasn't anything he hasn't dealt with before and he's always handled it much better than—
"Well, I'm leaving." Peppy got up, patting down his suit. "I plan on actually talking with people."
A few seconds later, he was gone into the crowd of chatter. Fox stared back down at the table, taking occasional sips of his drink. Seconds, maybe minutes passed, until he got a sharp nudge from his side.
Fox glanced to his right, seeing Krystal get up and walk away. She turned around back at him, which was more than enough invitation to get up and follow her. Fox pushed his way through groups of people, following Krystal across the room.
She got to a stairwell and hopped down it, nearly running. He followed her, waiting for her to say something. They went down to the lobby of the building. The receptionist waved at him, and he gave a weak wave back, following Krystal to a lounge area in the corner of the room. She sat in one of the couches, and Fox sat down in one opposite of her.
Her body seemed to tense a bit. "Fox," she said, looking towards the ground.
She looked back at him, making eye-contact. "What's wrong?"
The answer was natural for him now. "Nothing."
"Really, Fox?"
"Yes, really, nothing."
"Because," Krystal adjusted her posture on the couch, crossing her arms. "You've been shutting yourself off for the past weeks since the invasion. There has to be something."
"Well, there isn't," Fox said. "I'm fine."
"You've been so…hostile recently, and I just want to help you."
She seemed oddly calm about this, Fox realized. "Weren't you yelling at me two days ago about this?" he said, forcing a chuckle. "Pick a mood."
He meant that to come off light-hearted, but Krystal's eyes were still locked on him. "I don't think it's all that funny, Fox," she said, her voice still low. "You won't open up to anyone—me. I'm just…I don't know, I just want you to be okay…"
"…Krystal, I—"
"What's wrong?"
Déjà-vu.
"Nothing's wrong," he said.
"Really?"
He felt the fur on the back of his head bristle. "Damn it, stop asking me this."
"Stop avoiding the question then." Her voice got a bit louder. Fox glanced back at the receptionist, oblivious to his discomfort.
"I really don't know. I'm just stressed out, I suppose."
She looked down and scratched her paw. "Why don't we just talk? It doesn't even have to be about this, because I'm unsure what this is…but let's just talk about something."
"Talk about what, Krystal?" The entire conversation was annoying him for some reason. "I'm just stressed out, and I have every reason to be. You're yelling, crying, or whatever the hell you've been doing the past weeks for no reason. I'm fine."
Krystal blinked. "No reason—Fox, you're so oblivious to everything. You're closed up, and I just want to talk, and I don't know why you don't want to."
"Because there's nothing to talk about."
Krystal didn't say anything for a long while. Fox averted his eyes from her; he saw three people walking out the front door, smiling and immersed in conversation, and he tried to pick out some of their words—
"This isn't going to work."
Fox's ears twitched. "What?"
"I thought this would happen before I even talked to you, but…" She seemed to be talking to herself. "It's okay, it's just not going to work."
"…what?"
"You refuse to talk with me—"
"Because there's nothing to t—"
"So I'm just…" Krystal looked away and opened her mouth a few times, but no words came out. "You aren't the same Fox I liked before the invasion. I don't know what made you so upset, but I hope for your benefit you find out and get better, because I'm done trying to read you."
Fox felt his heart skip beats. "Krystal, what are you…"
She stood up and turned. "I don't want to have to say it," she muttered, walking away.
Fox bit his lower lip. "Wait—"
She walked away, going into an elevator. She stood and faced the opposite wall, but Fox saw her punching buttons before the doors closed.
Fox leaned back in the couch, not having fully absorbed what just happened. He closed his eyes, running through all of the events in an outline in his head. The months leading up to the invasion, the invasion itself, the weeks afterwards…
It was all clear; whatever relationship he had with Krystal was ended. So why did he not seem to care, and why—was he really so apathetic? He didn't know which question worried him more.
He caught the eye of the receptionist, who must have noticed the entire thing. She kept glancing back at him, and he prayed she wouldn't approach him about the situation. He heard her voice, and he got up to leave, but she was just greeting some men in suits who walked in. What was this building for, anyway?
Footsteps were approaching him. Fox groaned; he really didn't want to deal with the receptionist. However, the person who approached him was a dark-furred canine, sporting a gray suit and an interesting cube design on his tie.
"Fox McCloud, I hope?" His voice had some sort of a slight accent.
Fox nodded, shaking the man's hand. He put his briefcase on the table and sat in the couch across from him. "You're just the person I was looking for," the man said.
Despite his seemingly young age, the man was intimidating. Fox assumed it was a business thing—he read somewhere about vertical lines on suits commanding respect, or something. Whatever it was, it was working.
"Ah, pardon for not introducing myself." He smiled and gestured to his chest. "Ricky Von Spitze."
"You know me, obviously," Fox said, shaking Ricky's outstretched hand. "So what did you want?"
Ricky's slight smile vanished. He looked directly at Fox, not moving. "The situation is crucial. I want to hire team Star Fox."
Straight to the point, huh. "For what?"
"Is the rest of the team here, with you?" Ricky seemed bent on not getting a refusal from him. Fox almost nodded yes, but caught himself. He didn't want another confrontation with Krystal tonight.
"No, I'll tell them. What is it?"
Ricky's voice dropped lower. "We've been having issues with pirates in Katinian ports."
"Oh, that? Secretary of Defense Bernhard already asked—"
"Don't accept whatever he offers." Ricky's stare was nerve-racking. "He doesn't understand the severity of the situation."
"And who are you to be saying this?"
"Ah, pardon again," Ricky said, leaning back into the couch. He chuckled and got his wallet out of his pocket, taking out his business card from it and handing it to Fox. "I'm head of research teams for Space Dynamics. As of now, we deal with cutting costs on standard non-military space transport, increasing efficiency ratings across the board for standard fighter jets, as well as developing blueprints and testing prototypes of custom fighter aircrafts."
Fox looked at his business card. Just like the real Ricky, the Ricky on the card had a confident smile.
Space Dynamics
Ricky Von Spitze
Director of Research and Development
CM: 909-2846-6427
FX: 909-2846-6427
1288 Meridian Road
Corneria City, Corneria 89118
When he put it down, Ricky spoke again. "In fact, one of our teams developed the model Arwing you fly now. We learned how to implement four G-diffusers, and we also designed the wings to be considerably more flexible. It was actually the first project I led."
Ricky grinned, obviously proud of himself. "Err…how old are you?" Fox asked.
"Twenty-six next week."
Fox's eyes widened. "Impressive."
"Thanks," Ricky said, pulling a folder out of his briefcase. "But back to business, Bernhard really doesn't know what he's dealing with. He's underestimating the organization of the pirates. He's not even sure what they're after."
"How are you sure?"
"Come on, he's going to be kicked out of office next year, I bet. Remember the Third Wharf scandal? And he always disregards obvious information."
"Such as…?"
"He thinks those pirates are just going to raid any ship they can for profit." Ricky looked around the room and leaned in closer. "They're after Space Dynamics transport vessels, I'm certain."
Ricky went on. "We've been doing research on Katina. It's kinda classified, but err…we've been excavating certain rare ores for testing. Somewhere there must have been a leak of information, because now any time a Space Dynamics vessel exits or enters a Katinian port, the pirates pop up, waiting."
Fox scratched his head, waiting for Ricky to keep talking, but he never did. "What makes you think there was a leak?" Fox asked. "Far as I'm concerned, this is just a coincidence."
Ricky laughed. "Well, with rival companies like AeroSpace and A-Tac barking up our tails, it's very plausible. Actually, I have no doubts. And even if it's not from them, any ordinary pirate could cash in by raiding what we've, err…"
"Still—"
"I wish I could tell you," Ricky muttered, his voice frighteningly low, "but what we've potentially found is too big to be a coincidence."
Fox was sure that the man wasn't telling the whole truth, but clients never disclosed much information on the requests. There was nowhere else to go with the conversation. "How much are you paying?"
"Glad you asked. Twenty-thousand credits each, plus potential repair costs."
"Only—"
"And…" Ricky raised a finger. "I'll work to cut off some of the debts from the Great Fox. Not making any promises, but it should be down at least half. That is, of course, if you succeed."
Fox stared at Ricky's smug-looking grin. "What do you mean about the Great Fox…?"
"I'm one of the higher-ups of Space Dynamics, Fox. If you succeed with this, and our preliminary research is correct, we could net our company…" He shifted in his seat, looking away from Fox and speaking hushed again. "I'm talking too much, but billions of credits would be an understatement."
Fox blinked. "Hard to believe, I know," Ricky said. "But the debts of the Great Fox would easily be looked over."
"If you're getting that much money, isn't twenty-thousand credits per a bit cheap?"
"This is coming out of my pocket. Companies can't hire mercenary teams—well I guess they could, but there's a ton of backlash. I'm doing this under my name, not Space Dynamics." He paused. "Besides, it's just a simple brushing off of pirates. For any other team, twenty-thousand untaxed credits would be quite a lot. And don't forget; I'm potentially saving your team millions with the Great Fox."
Fox leaned back in the couch, attempting to process what this man was saying. It was a lot of information to take in at once. He was still trying to get over the Aparoid Invasion, and what had just happened a few minutes ago, but something in him pushed to say yes.
"Well? Will you accept?"
"…Yeah."
Ricky's face beamed up. "That's great!" he said. He took papers out of his folder and handed Fox a pen. "Put these numbers in your comm, and write the rest of the team's numbers in there, please. Top one's my number."
Standard procedure.
"You'll be working with teams Star Wolf and AstralBlue."
Fox's ears twitched. "Err, what?"
Ricky stood up and grabbed his briefcase, still smiling. "Report at Space Dynamics Airlot tomorrow morning, probably around 9:30. I'll message each of you with specifics later. We don't have any time to waste, I'll brief you all there. Get your teammates."
"Okay, but—"
"Thanks for your services," the canine said, walking towards the exit and waving his arm. "Space Dynamics appreciates it. We're going to make huge advancements because of you."
The door closed, and Fox felt chills run through his body.
Damn it…
Most clients did this—purposely leaving out information to hire mercenary teams. Skewing the stories until they accepted, then giving the rest of the briefing right before the mission was common, which often led to most mercenaries biting off more than they could chew.
But Ricky was cunning, offering him a mission during his worst possible life circumstances. It was an offer he couldn't refuse though; saying no would mean the potential loss of billions of credits.
Every time he thought of calling him back and denying, the number sank in more and more.
Fox sighed, clutching the arms of the couch. He'd have to brief the team and tell them they were reporting tomorrow for a mission with their rivals, and whoever AstralBlue was. …And the team includes her, too.
He realized that he'd accidentally ripped the couch—small puffs of cotton escaped where his nails tore through the leather. The celebration probably wasn't over, but he got up and walked out the door anyway, fumbling for his car keys in his pocket.
He wasn't tired, but he just wanted to clear his mind and relax.