Chapter 3: The Summoning

Part 3: The Invitation

Phoenix soon learned that the 'Yellow Jack Bar' was hidden on the outskirts of the Meteo asteroid field. Of course he knew all of the rumors that floated around alongside the chunks of ice and rock; Meteo was said to be the home of countless criminals and government enemies of all kinds, whether it be common thieves, pirates, bounty hunters, or even remnants of Andross's forces that remained in hiding since the Lylat Wars. The outer rim of the field was home to shady repair shops, weapon and vehicle suppliers, and bars that couldn't care less about who their customers were. Deeper into the field could be found the Sargasso Space Zone, which hid vast assortments of criminals, assassins, or mercenaries down on their luck from the eyes of the law. The cesspool of a haven was virtually untouched by the Cornerian government; it was too difficult to safely maneuver a fleet large into the field on account of the millions of debris floating lazily in orbit. Any attempt by a large force would end up dashed against the sides of the asteroids. It had taken the brilliant mind of Andross to lead a fleet capable of an invasion through Meteo. However, his attention was directed towards Corneria, so the criminal underworld merely scattered to other regions of the asteroid field, and gathered together once he left.

It was not long after they entered the belt that Phoenix spotted the bar; it was built into the side of a sizable asteroid, complete with an air-dome and docking bay. As they entered the hangar, Phoenix couldn't help but gaze wide-eyed at the assortment of banged-up and ancient looking fighters and transport ships that lined the inside of the bay; most of them were covered in blackened trails from laser hits, dusted with sand and grit from excursions on desert planets, or scratched up from centuries of wear. A good number of the ships also had nick-names, logos, or signature phrases painted on their sides.

Jumping down off the control panel, Krystal walked past Phoenix and grabbed him by the ear. "Quit gawking," she groaned, "Everyone will think you've never been outside a church before. Don't ruin our image, will ya?"

"Ow! The ear, the ear!" Phoenix cried frantically as he was forced to follow Krystal outside the bridge, head first.

"Hey, Falco, look at this!" Krystal joked.

As Phoenix held the door to the barroom open for her, she strode triumphantly through and spread her arms wide in mock-amazement. "This 'chivalry' thing even opens doors for you! It's like magic!"

"I don't see what's so great about it," Falco mumbled as he stepped in after her.

"You could learn a thing or two from it, ya know?" Krystal said as she slapped him a little too hard on the back. "Maybe for the next time we run into Katt."

After he let Slippy through, Phoenix let the door swing shut behind him and looked around the bar. It truly was the most horrendous, sickeningly filthy sight he had ever laid eyes upon, a sight he believed was virtually non-existent in the Lylat System anymore, a sight he had only seen in old westerns and crime shows that hearkened back to a dying era. The Yellow Jack bore all the hallmarks of a classic shoot-em-up barroom; a pool table took up the center of the room, occupied by a gang of gnarly-looking mutts from the four corners of Lylat who no one in their right mind would ever entrust a cue-stick to, much less a gun or a spaceship. The game was surrounded by a number of circular tables, most of which hosted some sort of gambling event; cards flew, dice spun, and poker chips plinked against each other. The walls of the bar were lined with shaded booths lit with dim lights, the majority of which were occupied by employers, assassins, or lovers looking for a more private place to sit. The bar counter itself was placed along the wall closest to the doorway. Behind it was a massive shelf filled with more forms of alcohol than Phoenix thought existed. So dazzling was the assortment that it threw specks of colored light around the entire room, as if it was some profane stained-glass window.

Krystal immediately ambled over to the bar while Falco sought out a quiet corner to light a smoke in, and Slippy searched the booths to find their employer. Finally catching sight of their hirer, he strode off to meet him, but then noticed that Phoenix was awkwardly following behind. Turning around, he said something that Phoenix couldn't hear over the sound of the noisy barroom, so he had Phoenix lean down closer so he could shout in his ear.

"I'm going to collect the bounty from our employer, but you shouldn't come. Nothing personal. It's just... bad for business. Hey, look, why don't you join Krystal at the bar?"

Phoenix cringed. "You sure that's a good idea?" he shouted over the noise of the room.

"Sure, she won't mind. Just... if she drinks too much, I wouldn't hang around."

"Don't hang around?"

"As in, run. Just keep track of how many glasses she takes, and you'll be fine."

The amphibian patted him on the shoulder, then walked away towards their employer's booth carrying the briefcase Falco had attained from Phoenix's now deceased chemistry teacher.

Turning around to face the bar, Phoenix gulped, took a deep breath, exhaled, and set out nervously to join Krystal. Slipping into the cushioned stool next to her, he asked, "Uh, mind if I sit here?"

"About time you did," the blue-colored vixen muttered, already draining a glass. "You ever had beer before, kid? Or are you still under the drinking age?"

"Well, no, I'm only nineteen," Phoenix admitted, dejectedly. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "But I've tried some at home. I haven't really gotten used to the taste yet. I don't get why people like the stuff, actually."

Krystal chuckled, and the bartender slid her another glass of beer, which she promptly took a swig of. "That's how a lot of kids feel, lion-heart. The way I see it, it's sort of an acquired taste you have to develop. Granted, it's an easy one to acquire, but still, you can't just jump from your mama's milk to alcohol. No, you have to drink water, juice, soda, Tabasco sauce, and then beer. You get it, right? The drinks get more and more bitter." Pausing, she lifted her glass up and spilled it's contents down her throat, while Phoenix awkwardly watched. Then, trading her second glass for a third, she continued with her little spiel. "You have to get used to something progressively, like cooking a frog in a pot." After quickly glancing back at Slippy across the room, she amended her statement "Er, uh, lobster. The same goes for spicy foods sour candy. I'm sure there's some sort of science behind it." Krystal drowned herself out once again with her third glass while Phoenix watched, getting a bit nervous.

"Yeah, there is a scientific term for it. It's called alcoholism."

Finishing off the last drop, Krystal slammed her mug down on the table, causing Phoenix to jump in fear. Sliding her mug away, she gestured for yet another one. "Ha haa, and you've got a little thing called smart-assalism, don't you?"

Phoenix cursed himself inwardly for being too brave. To tell the truth, he was extremely nervous around killers, females, and killer females, but his mouth wouldn't shut up when the icy cold sinking feeling in his stomach told him to, and the fact that Krystal was already raising the forth glass to her lips wasn't exactly putting his fears to rest. Perhaps now was the time to run, before Krystal got too intoxicated and tried to murder him... or worse.

"Hey, look, uh... I think Slippy's nearly done with your employer... boss... dude, so I'm gonna see how he's doing. I can tell you want to be left – "

But before he could finish, Krystal's eyes narrowed at something over Phoenix's shoulder.

"Well look who we have here," she muttered.

Slowly turning around, Phoenix noticed a chameleon and a jet black panther standing in the doorway. The chameleon's cold, steely eyes flitted around the room, identifying potential threats to be wary of, while the panther's jumped from potential woman to victimize to potential woman to also victimize. Finally, their three gazes (the chameleon's eyes counted as two, as they never quite looked in the same direction) simultaneously landed on Krystal, who coincidentally met both of their requirements.

Rapidly turning back around, Phoenix lowered his head and whispered, "You know those guys?"

Krystal nodded. "Yeah, they're a part of Star Wolf. You've probably heard of them, the most famous bounty hunters in Sargasso. Not as good as us, mind you, but more famous. The lizard's Leon Powalski; he specializes in hit jobs. The cat's Panther. He specializes in pedophilia, and maybe a little piloting and marksmanship on the side."

"It's a specialty?" Phoenix mouthed in surprise.

Krystal hurriedly shushed him as the two bounty hunters came up behind them.

"Well, if it isn't the venomous vixen again," purred the black cat. "It could only be fate that has brought us together at such a lowly meeting place of villainy and scum."

"Screw off, puss-in-boots. Save the flattery for when you take your mom to prom night."

"Testy, as always," cackled the lizard. "Are you still angry about us beating you to that last bounty?"

"Hey! Don't go shooting your mouth off about that again! The Hunting Party has always beaten you in the past, and you know it!"

Panther's ears perked up. "Oh? What's this? Do I hear the fiery little fox wanting to prove her gender's superiority over that of the male race?"

"I could beat you freaks any day! It's the rest of the team that always slows me down!"

"I think she wants a challenge," Panther continued with a smooth voice. "What shall it be this time, my loyal compatriot?"

"How about a little knife throwing?" Leon said, spreading out an assortment of knives like a deck of cards that must have been concealed up his sleeve.

"Sure, why not?" Krystal said, hopping down from her bar stool. By now, the groups surrounding the tables closest to the bar had turned their attention to the three bounty hunters, expecting an entertaining show.

"First, the rules," Leon began. "Each of us will throw five knives at another person on our team; if they land more than an inch away, the other team wins. If you hit your teammate... well, they might die. Maybe."

"Next, we need a bet, something to rrrraise the stakes." Panther said, rolling his r's extravagantly.

"Like what?" Krystal growled, suspicious.

"Well, if I win," Panther whispered as he leaned in closer to Krystal, who defensively blew a breath full of bear into his face, "I get to spend a romantic night with – "

"No."

"A romantic evening with – "

"No."

"A romantic dinner with – "

"No."

Leon rolled his eyes, which actually was what they normally did. "Look, it's no fun if you don't risk anything besides your honor. Now, what will it be?"

Krystal crossed her arms and sulked for a minute, before replying, "Fine. The loser has to have a romantic dinner with Panther. That means, if I win..."

"I'll have to go out with Panther, is that it?"

"Yes."

"You wouldn't dare!" Panther hissed.

"If you want that evening with Krystal, you better agree to it."

"Alright. Fine. It's a deal."

"Oh, and I'll be representing Star Wolf in this little game of ours."

"What!" Panther cried. "Why would I entrust this to you?!"

"Because I'm the best at knife-throwing, you idiot. Don't you trust me not to hit you?"

"Alright, bueno. Then I guess you'll be using that repulsive frog on your team, Krystal?"

"Actually," the vixen said, turning to Phoenix, who was trying his best to go unnoticed, "I'll be throwing knives at this kid."

"Ah! So you finally got a fourth member on your team again! Though I doubt he'll ever rep – "

"No, he's not really part of the team. Just a little hostage I picked up on our latest mission. He's growing on me, enough to not want him hurt, if that's what you're worried about."

Leon spun Phoenix's bar stool around so that he was forced to stare into the chameleon's face. "Hm... he'll do. Come on, Panther, random fox kid; up against the wall."

The bar patrons closest to the indicated wall grabbed their tables and scooted their chairs out of the way, making a long, clear aisle for Krystal and Leon to throw their knives down.

This is insane, was all Phoenix could think as Krystal dragged him over and placed him against the wall.

"Straighten up," she whispered in his ear, breath warm from the amount of alcohol she had consumed. "Stay perfectly still, and there'll be a 99% chance I won't hit you."

Gulping, Phoenix stood ram-rod straight against the wall like a mummy going to die a second time. He couldn't believe it. An intoxicated female bounty hunter is going to throw knives at me. Knives. At me.

Shit!

THUNK! The fourth knife landed mere centimeters from Phoenix's muzzle, and he swore it took a few whiskers with it. Exhaling deeply, he reached up and wiped the sweat from his brow. Only one more. The little game they were playing was beginning to get on his nerves. He was beginning to feel so sick from anxiety that he thought he might throw up before it ended. But it was for Krystal now. He couldn't imagine her going on a date with someone, anyway.

It was Leon's turn to throw. The chameleon held the knife by the blade as delicately as if he were holding a feather. Drawing the knife back, he quickly snapped his arm forwards, sending the knife spinning through the air until it lodged into the wall, a hair-breadth away from Panther's neck. The black cat didn't even flinch or bat an eye; he just grinned, devilishly.

"Last round, Krystal," Panther shouted across the room. "Why don't you give in already? Deep down inside, you know you really want – "

But Krystal, with lightning-quick speed, grabbed her last knife and flung it as hard as she could at Phoenix, who let out a cry of surprise as it sank into the wall, close enough so that it brushed against his shoulder.

All eyes in the bar were on Leon now. Spreading out his legs and clasping the knife between his hands as if he were imitating a karate pose, the chameleon slowly exhaled all of his breath and closed his eyes, seeking absolute peace. When the bar fell completely silent, Leon opened his eyes again, crossed them in a crazy manner, and uttered a guttural, undulating cry. Breaking his stance, he propelled himself in the air, spun around three times like a cyclone before he landed, and swung the knife in a wide arc at Panther.

The knife plunged into the feline's right shoulder, immediately drawing blood and eliciting a loud cry of pain. Leaving his position in front of the wall, he hopped around the room cursing bitterly in Spanish. Finally breaking from his fit he shouted in English, "DAMN YOU, LEON! YOU HIT ME ON PURPOSE, DIDN'T YOU! DIDN'T YOU!"

"It was the only reason I agreed to the challenge," the lizard admitted, collecting the knives he had lent Krystal. "It's not often I have an excuse to stick you with knives."

"But now our honor is ruined forever! We have to go on a date! A date! How will we ever face Wolf after this!"

"Maybe we'll invite him and another woman and make it a double. Look, whatever the price, it was worth sticking a knife into you. You will never know how long I've waited to do that."

As the bar's patrons split up into their usual groups again, Phoenix felt his stomach broiling up inside of him, a mix of fiery hot acid and icy cold chills. The stress of the competition had been too much for him. Running to the men's room, he flung the door open and rushed over to the sink as rapidly as possible. Bending over the filthy porcelain basin, he began to throw up what little he had had for lunch that day.

Well, at least it's over, he thought to himself as he watched the contents of his stomach poor down the drain.

The door opened behind him, and he heard footsteps slowly approach the sink next to his. Continuing to vomit, Phoenix didn't bother looking up, instead assuming it was either Falco, Slippy, or some other frequenter of the bar.

Once his stomach subsided, he turned on the sink and rinsed his mouth out with water until the acidic taste of his stomach fluids was nearly gone. Looking in the mirror, he met the blank stare of a heavy-set panda who stood behind his shoulder.

Still gasping for breath, Phoenix splashed his face with some water.

"That was a pretty brave act you did there, son," the panda said in a hoarse voice.

"Brave," Phoenix scoffed, wiping his face off with his hands, "One fear was just greater than the other, and that's all there was to it."

Phoenix turned to exit the bathroom, but he suddenly found the panda blocking his path.

"I'm scarred too, you know," the panda added. "Scarred of blood, scarred of pain... but there must be a way to face my fears." The bear's voice was shaking now, and his beady black eyes glowed with a violent light, a light of desperation. By the way he smelled and looked, Phoenix guessed he hadn't showered or slept in weeks.

"Look, sir, I would appreciate it if you would – "

"I have been facing my fears," the panda continued, unabated. Reaching into his coat pockets, he slowly pulled out a revolver and a sharpened blade, holding one in each hand. "The only way to conquer you fear is to expose yourself to more of it, to force yourself to live with it."

Phoenix didn't know how to react. His eyes widened and he backed up against the sink, but the psychotic bear followed him, lowering his gun to Phoenix's chest.

"For example, if you're afraid of heights, what do you do?" the panda asked, raising his knife to Phoenix's neck.

Phoenix was leaning backwards over the sink as far as he could, eyes wide as he stared into his assailant's face.

When the fox gave him no answer, the psycho continued. "He goes to lots of high places, right?" The panda's voice became ragged and interrupted by heavy breathing that made Phoenix's fur stand on end. "And if you're afraid of the dark, you sleep with the night light off. If you're claustrophobic, you ride a lot of elevators and buy little smart cars. So, if you're scarred of blood..." He trailed off, gently sliding his knife across Phoenix's exposed neck, catching the reflection of the overhead lights on the surface of the blade.

"You know... I've had this fear for a long time. I couldn't stomach even the slightest hint of red. But I couldn't take the fear any longer, so I decided to face it." His assailant's ramblings began to increase in speed as he became more exited. "I started out slow, just cutting myself a little here and there. Then I began killing house pets and wild animals; I even stole into morgues at night. Then, I began to prepare my meat myself, or even just eat it raw." Using the sharp blade now, he slowly slid it across Phoenix's skin, drawing a slight trickle of blood. "Eventually, I killed my first person. A poor delivery boy who stopped by my house... I don't think anyone missed him." Then, leaning in closer, he whispered in Phoenix's ear, "He was delicious..."

Unable to control himself any longer, Phoenix brought his knee up into the panda's gut and swatted the gun out of his hand, but not before he had reflexively discharged a shot. The psycho stumbled backwards, desperately sucking in air while Phoenix dove towards the gun. It had slid across the teal green restroom tiles to come to rest against the far wall. Grabbing the gun and sitting on the floor, Phoenix spun around to face the assailant, staring down the barrel at the panda's crazed face. The gun was shaking in his hands, a fact that did not escape his attacker. Slowly, but confidently, the panda approached him again, knife dangling restlessly at his side.

"S-stop!" Phoenix ordered with a trembling voice, "Or I'll shoot!"

The panda merely laughed at the threat and continued towards Phoenix, forcing the vulpine to scoot back into one of the stalls to maintain the distance between them. When his back pressed up against the toilet, he added, "Don't come any closer! I mean it!"

The panda paused in front of the door, looming over him and casting an even darker shadow into the bathroom stall. "We know you can't do that... then you'd become more like me. No one wants to be like me... why is that?"

Raising the knife again, he slowly leaned in over Phoenix, his tall form towering over him. "If you're lucky, I'll feed you a rib or two before you lose consciousness..."

Involuntarily, Phoenix let his tired arms drop to the floor, the gun clattering across the filthy tiles. He couldn't bring himself to shoot the animal, he couldn't kill no matter what, not even to save himself.

The panda's smiling head was inches from his own when the gunshot rang out.

A geyser of red blood sprayed into the air behind the bear's head, and his enormous body slumped forwards over Phoenix. His face landed on the rim of the toilet bowl, revealing the small, red hole at the back of his head, and causing Phoenix to scream from a mix of surprise and horror. He looked up to find Krystal sitting on the sink counter-top, her leg swinging back and forth like a cat's tail, and her gun trailing smoke.

"Krystal!" Phoenix exclaimed, his voice cracking. He did his best to crawl out from underneath the panda's limp form, scooting as far away as he could in the limited stall space.

"Bastard had it coming," Krystal said as she slipped off the counter top. Joining him in the stall, she set her boot against the back of the panda's head, forced it into the filthy bowl, and flushed the toilet. Looking up at her, Phoenix read an expression of hatred and disgust in her face, as if she were killing Andross herself. Once the toilet quieted down and began to refill with water, she turned her attention to Phoenix.

"Why didn't you shoot?" She growled, sliding her weapon back into its holster. "You had a gun right there in your hands, yet you didn't shoot!"

Phoenix cowered even further into the stall as possible under Krystal's fierce gaze. "I... I just couldn't do it! When I think of that police officer you killed, and the blood, and the look in his dying eyes, I... I – "

"Look, Phoenix," Krystal said, spitting into the toilet seat, "In this world, it's either kill or be killed, and if you won't...then someone else will have to. You had every legal, instinctive reason to shoot him, and you just let him come at you! Why didn't you just pull the trigger!"

"It's not that easy!" Phoenix defended himself. "I've never had to shoot someone before! Much less hold a gun in my hands! When was the first time you killed someone, huh? How old were you? Nineteen? Barely out of high school?"

Krystal's mouth remained closed, and the fiery glow in her eyes seemed to subside. Sighing, she leaned back against the opposite wall of the stall and slid down to the floor across from Phoenix, the panda's limp body awkwardly between them. She stared at the ground for a few seconds in silence, then took a cigarette from her pocket, placed it between her lips, and lit it with a lighter. Taking a single puff, she took it out and held it towards Phoenix.

"Come on, take it." All of the anger had suddenly gone out of her voice, replaced by a mellow sort of depression. Perhaps it was just the whimsy of the alcohol, or perhaps it was just Krystal's character, but the change in attitude seemed rather sudden to Phoenix.

"Please, don't tell me you've never smoked before..."

"No, I've smoked a few cigars, at least whenever I can get my hands on one." He accepted the cigarette, and took a small draw from it. After a few seconds, he began to feel the calming affects of the drug, and his heart rate and stomach began to subside.

"Look, I'm... I'm sorry about this," Krystal said, gesturing to the panda's body that lay with its head still in the toilet. "You shouldn't have had to see it. You and the rest of the privileged back on Corneria think that bounty hunting's all fun and games. It's like a western, or some cheesy action comedy flick to you guys. But it's not. You were bound to see something like this sooner or later. Too bad it had to be sooner."

Phoenix remained silent, not meeting Krystal's eyes.

"At the same time, though, it's not as screwed up as the crap you just saw. I really enjoy it. The guns, the exhilaration, the thrill, the guns, the last minute plans and ditch efforts, the guns... even just flying for thousands of miles out in the middle of nowhere is worth it. You never have to worry about the law, paying taxes, or worrying about saving face at school or work. You can do whatever the hell you want to, and no one will bat an eye."

Accepting her cigarette back from Phoenix, she drew a breath and continued. "They say – back when Corneria was just a country – that it was founded upon the concept of freedom. Pure freedom. Yeah, you had the right to protect your home and yourself from the government, the right to say anything you want, and the right to believe anything you want. But out here, out in the open space, that's where you can find real freedom, not the type that the government sells you. You can truly go it alone and have it the way you want."

"Well... I wouldn't really mind that," Phoenix whispered. "I do feel like I'm trapped in a box at school, like my whole life is planned out for me, basically. A life out here would be tempting, to say the least."

"My point is... I wanted you to enjoy your time with us, out here without any laws. But you had to go through this. I... I want to make it up to you."

Phoenix's ears perked up out of curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Let's make a deal. You come along with the Hunting Party on our next mission, and see what we do for a living. If you like it, maybe you could stay on the team for a little while. If you don't, we'll just let you off at Corneria and forget that we ever met."

"So... you're actually inviting me to join the team? Why?"

Krystal shrugged. "I hate seeing a kid like you disillusioned so quickly. So, what do you say, are you in?"

Phoenix slowly let out his breath. Was this really happening? He was sitting in a filthy, bathroom stall in a bar for bounty hunters in an asteroid field, thousands of miles away from Corneria, with a blue-furred killer vixen and the dead body of a cannibalistic panda bear lying between them with a bullet hole in the back of his head and his face submerged in a toilet.

"Hell yeah. I'm in."