AUTHOR'S NOTE: We're gonna switch things up right now. This story fits in with the whole prequel idea, however, since the main character is Peppy, not Fox or Wolf, I decided to plop it right in the middle. However, this story takes place after all of the other ones, so it's going to create some foreshadowing and suspense for you to wonder about until it gets answered later. So, without further adieu, lets finally find out how Peppy escaped from Venom all those years ago.
-A Hero Died For Me-
I don't know anything.
I don't know anything at all.
I swear to God.
Just please don't take me back there.
Please don't hurt me anymore.
It had become almost a mantra for Peppy Hare. It felt like he'd been saying it for so long that he could barely remember how to say anything else.
His home planet of Corneria, his wife Vivian, his daughter Lucy, it all seemed so far in the past as to be irrelevant. The four blackened walls of ferroconcrete, the black tile floors and the solid durasteel containment door had become his new home.
Slouched against the hard, abrasive walls, his sleeveless red and black flight suit just barely clinging to his emaciated form, Peppy could barely move. If he moved, he would just start hurting again. It even hurt to breathe but it wasn't as if he could really do anything to solve that, the cuts and bruises on his chest and back aching and stinging with every movement of his diaphragm.
In the corner of the cell, drying and beginning to truly stink was the regurgitated remains of whatever it was that the guards had tried to feed him last night. He hadn't made it to the durasteel toilet after eating it before it came back up. Peppy had probably lost thirty pounds, down to an almost skeletal body shape, his long, grey ears drooping limply downwards.
As he looked into the shadows of his cell, for some reason he remembered Pigma.
It had been Peppy's idea to find another team member. For Team StarFox to be effective, it needed more manpower than just James and himself. Unlike the two of them, Pigma Dengar wasn't an ex-member of the Cornerian military. Instead, Pigma had been a top-tier racer in the G-Zero Grand Prix, known for his somewhat brutal racetrack tactics in his race for the prize money. He'd made a cunning teammate, despite being somewhat abrasive. Peppy had always seen Pigma as the most focused, rational member of Team StarFox, with his eyes always on the objective, always on the prize. James had been a little wary of Pigma because of this, but Peppy thought it was just a realistic attitude that made him a valuable asset to the team.
Guess I was wrong there, Peppy thought with a tiny, grim smile that stung his face.
How long had Pigma been betraying them? Had he always been a turncoat, or was it just some spur of the moment thing? Had Pigma just been flying over Venom, providing James and Peppy cover, and saw just what Andross might be able to give him, deciding to act right there?
It hadn't been clear when the apes were torturing him a week ago.
Pigma had just waddled into the room in the middle of it all, stuffing himself with a box of chocolates. Peppy had thought he was hallucinating, that maybe the apes had drugged him with something. But then, on Pigma's command, they stopped, and he sauntered forward, his rolls of fat moving up and down like waves on a beach.
"Wassup, Peppy?" Pigma had snorted, "You don't look so good, hehehe…"
An odd mix of despair, rage and disappointment replaced Peppy's confusion.
"Yeah, so, maybe yuh realized this, but, uh…" Pigma droned, "It was me. I sold you and James out. I'd say it's a good move on my part, playing for the winning team and all…Hell, they're even setting me up with my own elite flying team up here. But yeah…sorry you had to be the bargaining chip and all, it's just that I couldn't show up for my first day on the job empty handed, ya know? But don't worry, we're gonna take good care of you and James, all right? Hehehehehe…"
He then just began laughing that squealing, snorting laugh of his, that pig-snout contracting in and out as he crammed another chocolate into his jaws. Then he had the apes start all over again ("From the top," he said) and walked out, still giggling to himself.
It was so pointless to be mad about it now. It hardly mattered. Regardless of whether Pigma was Andross' adopted son or in the next cell, they were going to kill Peppy.
James might even already be dead.
He'd been in the next cell, and they'd been able to communicate occasionally through a tiny crack in the wall between the two cells. Peppy's whispered calls to his old friend had gone unanswered for the past two days; he'd heard rumors that the guards outside had muttered to themselves that James had asked to be tortured more, in order to spare Peppy.
Peppy prayed it wasn't true, he prayed that James was alive.
He didn't want to die alone.
Peppy closed his eyes.
Goodbye, Vivian, Peppy thought, I had hoped we could dance until we grew old together. Looks like the best I can do is save you a dance on the other side.
Goodbye, Lucy. The thing I'll regret the most is not being able to see you grow up.
Peppy opened his eyes slowly, finding his vision blurry with moisture as a single tear rolled down his nose.
He hadn't said goodbye until now. He supposed it was only proper.
Peppy looked over to the dim, barely visible hole against the wall. Little more than a large crack where the wall met the floor, it was the only way that James could ever hear him if he was in his cell.
Peppy decided to try one last time.
"James," Peppy murmured, "James. Are you there?"
There was nothing.
"James," Peppy hissed urgently.
Again, only silence.
Gritting his teeth together with determination, Peppy pushed himself up and forward, feeling the dull, crushing ache in his shoulder from where the apes had hit him with a length of durasteel piping the other day. He got down on all fours, hissing as he put pressure on the kneecap that they had inserted a glass tube into, only to shatter it under his skin with a brutal kick. The apes had removed the glass so he wouldn't get infected, but they'd sutured his wounds the way one would sew up a busted hem.
Bastards.
With a series of grunts and moans of pain, Peppy dragged himself across the ferroconcrete until he was practically kissing the wall, his nose perpendicular to the hole.
"James!" Peppy barked hoarsely.
There was no reply, and just as Peppy was about to give up he looked into the hole carefully and realized there was something blocking it. His grey-furred brow wrinkled in confusion, and he extended his left hand into the hole, feeling a soft, small wad of something soft and dry.
His eyebrows rose quizzically, and Peppy withdrew the wad, coming back with a handful of two different piles of toilet paper. One, on top, was strangely wrinkled, and even though it was folded over, Peppy could tell there was writing on it. On the bottom, the toilet paper was wrapped around something hard and angular.
Sitting up with a moan of pain, his bare palms against the ice-cold ferroconcrete, Peppy picked up the first wad of toilet paper, and slowly, but carefully, unwrapped it.
The wad fell open to reveal a message, written on toilet paper with a piece of dull graphite. Peppy had only seen it a few times, but he knew that the handwriting on the toilet paper had to be James'. Peppy breathed in and prepared himself for what he almost already knew for sure and read:
Dear Friend,
If you're reading this, I'm probably already dead. I'm sorry to be saying goodbye like this, Peppy, but if you knew my plan, you probably would've tried to talk me out of it. I've worked my hardest and built up all of my strength to make them concentrate on me, rather than you, in the hopes that one of us could maybe make it out of this hellhole, somehow. I think I've finally gotten them to do it. They've been putting me through all sorts of shit, longer than they used to, more frequent than they used to, and, since I haven't heard anything besides my screams for the past few days, I'm guessing that they've left you alone. I barely have the strength to write you this letter; I don't think I'm going to make it past tomorrow. Word has it that Andross is coming down to personally finish me off. I always was one to go out with style, wasn't I?
At this point, Peppy stopped reading, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth together. He clenched his empty fist so hard that his fingernails dug into his palms, and he could feel the onrush of tears coming out of his eyes.
"James…" Peppy sniffed, "Why, James, you stupid, stupid bastard…?"
Peppy just lay there breathing out hard, a ball in his throat, but he wiped his eyes and continued reading.
When you get back to Corneria, tell Fox how much I loved him. I've included something in the little goodie bag I've made you that I want you to give to Fox. Teach him what I would teach him. Make sure he's ready. You and I both know that these bastards are going to enslave far more than just Venom if they're not stopped.
I want you to know that I'm happy to have died if it means you get to live. I'm sorry I couldn't give you more than a day or two, but that's all I have to give. Well, that, and a small present that I've made especially for you. It's not much, but it should get the job done when it comes to having the element of surprise. Just remember what they taught us at boot camp. Give them hell, Peppy.
For the both of us.
If only one of us got a chance to make it out of here, I wanted it to be you, Peppy. If only because I know you'd do the same for me. Think about Vivian. Think about Lucy. They need you. As much as I love him, as much as I know I'm going to wish I'd had a chance to say goodbye, I know that Fox doesn't really need me anymore. And I'm happy for that. It makes my decision an easy one. You have your wife. Go home to her, Peppy.
I'm going to go home to mine.
-James
The letter ended abruptly, without warning, and Peppy found himself paralyzed. After a moment, he sniffed, dropped the letter and began to quietly sob, banging his fist quietly into the ferroconcrete wall. He lay there and cried for probably half an hour at the loss of James, the cold ferroconcrete providing him no condolence in his grief. When Peppy finally got a hold of himself, he ran an aching hand over both of his eyes and sat up with a look of solemn, tired misery.
It was just like James to go out that way.
He was always there to be the best friend that Peppy ever had.
He was always doing the hardest job.
He was always taking on the burden.
He was always doing…the right thing.
Peppy felt like a coward. He felt weak and inadequate, undeserving of the sacrifice that his best friend had made for him. Here he was, ready to resign himself to death, and James had already done just that, so that Peppy wouldn't have to. What made James deserve to die that Peppy would live? If anyone deserved to live, it was James.
He was the hero.
Peppy was just the best friend.
But maybe that's what makes him the hero, Peppy thought, the fact that he would do that for you.
Peppy looked up, his face still wet with tears but his eyes beginning to burn with determination.
James gave Peppy the chance to live. To escape, and to take the fight back to Andross and every single one of these monkey motherfuckers.
Peppy wasn't about to waste it.
As he sat up and put the second wad of toilet paper in his lap, the aches and pains from his days of abuse seemed to be somehow dulled, less significant. He unwrapped it, finding a small vaguely rectangular piece of silver metal. On it was an olive wreath, encircling a letter C with a pair of wings stretching out from either side.
It was James' aviator badge from the Cornerian Army, his 'wings'. Peppy would make sure it got back to Fox if it killed him.
As Peppy put the badge in his pocket, he saw, left in the wad, a wedge-shaped shard of shiny, black glass, wrapped tightly around the wide end with a piece of ripped white cloth.
Peppy smiled softly and with some degree of sadness as he realized what it was.
It was a rather large, sharp piece of glass from a lens of James' trademark sunglasses. By wrapping it in a piece of his white StarFox pilot's jacket, James had fashioned a prison shank for Peppy to use to make his escape.
Peppy held up the small, improvised weapon.
Looking at his reflection in the glass, Peppy imagined, for the briefest of moments, that James was looking out at him from behind the lenses one last time, nodding at him to do what needed to be done.
"Thank you," Peppy whispered.
They didn't come to torture him that night. It was almost anticlimactic, expecting the door to open and for that sadistic, sneering ape guard that liked to kick him and drag him by his ears to the torture chamber to come in, only to stab him right in the neck as he smiled and reached for his ears one last time. Instead, there was merely the squeaking of the food slot as the guards opened it up and plopped his dinner into the cell.
A glop of white, gritty mush, Peppy regardless ate it and forced himself to keep it down, knowing that he would need all of the strength that he could muster. For the rest of the night, he could taste the feeling of warm saliva in the back of his throat and the heat of bile rising up to his tonsils, but Peppy forced himself not to vomit. Eventually, his stomach settled, and he managed to drift off to sleep on the black tile floor, sleeping sounder than he ever had in the cell.
Peppy awoke to the sound of their boots. He could tell it was them. That way that they marched confidently, intimidating in the way that they practically advertised their approach. They were coming for him.
He sprung up and slouched against the wall of the cell as he always did, palming the shank in his right hand and half-closing his eyes as if he was drowsy or tired. He prepared to put on the best performance of his life as the footsteps got louder and louder, closer and closer. He thought of a plan. He knew there were two guards that would come for him. Peppy's favorite guard, the ear-puller, would come in to get Peppy out of the cell, then the other would help ear-puller take him to the torture room. Other than them, there was perhaps one guard in this small cellblock, but more than likely he'd be one of the two sent to fetch him. Peppy's real worry was the numerous security holocams that were in the hallway, which would no doubt alert the other guards and the base at large. He'd probably have to play that part by ear, and try to find a blaster as quick as possible.
He could hear the footsteps stop and the lock snap, and an imposing ape in a maroon military uniform with black boots and a black helmet strode in. On the forehead of the black helmet was the upside down 'A' insignia of the Venomian Empire of Andross.
On the wrinkled simian muzzle of the ape was a sadistic sneer.
"Rise and shine, bunny rabbit. You're overdue," the guard rumbled in a thick, exotic accent.
Peppy contorted his face with a look of terror and pleaded, "Please, please don't take me back there! I don't want to go! Please! I've got a family! I just wanna go home!"
"This is your home, bunny rabbit," the guard growled, "It's your morgue. You're already dead. We're just here to embalm you and bury you."
As the guard laughed, Peppy shifted his weight and moved very slowly into a crouching position.
"I swear to God," Peppy moaned, "I'll do anything. Just don't take me back there."
"How 'bout you bend over and let me fuck you in the ass, bunny rabbit, then I'll see what I can do," the guard laughed.
Peppy almost blew it trying to hide his look of disgust.
"Johner, what the fuck do you think you're doing in there?" the other guard shouted, not looking through the crack of the open cell door.
"Just some supplemental interrogation tactics, Rob," Johner said, "Don't look; I'll be out soon."
"Don't worry, man. I won't," Rob shuddered.
"So…" Johner growled to him, unfastening his belt, "Are you ready for me to stick it in, bunny rabbit?"
That was Peppy's cue.
Sliding the shank forward, into his fingers with his thumb, Peppy leapt up off of the ground, stabbing the guard in his larynx with a quick, sharp jab.
The glass shard stuck into the guard's neck beautifully, creating a wonderful, soft thump sound as it sliced through the cartilage of the guard's voice box.
The guard's eyes swelled in shock with the speed of it all, and Peppy withdrew the shank, grabbing an extendable baton out of the guard's belt and kicking him to the floor.
The guard fell to the ground with blood the same color as his uniform gushing out of his hairy neck, and he thrashed around in shock attempting to scream, but only producing the quietest of hoarse breathing sounds due to the essentially comprehensive damage to his vocal cords.
"It sounds a little rough in there, Johner, try to be a little more gentle," Rob sniggered from outside the door.
Calmly swinging the cell door open and peeking out, Peppy spied the guard leaning against the doorframe, looking off into the distance.
"Sure thing," Peppy responded, swiping outward with the shank.
Rob looked over to Peppy, a look of utter confusion and surprise in his eyes as Peppy cut the ape's Adam's apple in half like a piece of canned fruit. His carotid artery completely severed, Rob fell to the floor as dark torrents of blood began to squirt from his slashed neck, painting the grey ferroconcrete walls with a streak of deep red.
Quickly re-entering the cell to find Johner composing himself, despite the blood oozing from his torn larynx, Peppy extended the prison baton and promptly swung the weighted end into Johner's face, connecting with a satisfying crack and sending Johner's head whip lashing backwards. More than a few teeth were split out as thick ropes of blood poured out of Johner's mouth.
"That was for James," Peppy snarled.
Looking for another target on his favorite prison guard, Peppy spied in between Johner's legs and gripped the shank hard, kneeling down and punching upwards, driving the improvised blade into Johner's balls.
A slight, high squeal was all that Johner's compromised larynx could muster.
"That was for me," Peppy explained sadistically.
Finding it more appropriate to let Johner live than to kill him, Peppy began to exit the cell.
Just before he left, Peppy looked back at Johner's flailing, agonizing form, adding, "And don't call me 'bunny rabbit'."
With that, Peppy slammed the cell door shut and pressed the button on the doorframe labeled 'LOCK'.
The durasteel deadbolt snapped into place with a cold, hard click.
Peppy breathed hard, then looked down the cold, stone hallway. About five feet away was the door to the next cell.
It would've been wonderful to open the door and find James waiting for him on the other side, but Peppy knew it was futile.
Instead, he looked further down the hall, where a thick, round holocam was mounted against the wall, close to the ceiling.
Staring at him with its dark eye, Peppy had no idea how long he'd been under surveillance.
Having no idea how much longer he had before more guards came, Peppy sprinted over Rob's body, holding the baton high over his head before swinging it forcefully at the holocam, which burst off of its mounting in a shower of sparks.
Almost immediately after, there was a repetitive wail as the warning alarm sounded.
Not allowing himself to get stressed, Peppy sprinted down the stone hallway, looking for a place to hide.
He soon came to a T-junction, his long ears perking up as he heard the sounds of footsteps and the roars of alarmed people from the corridor to his right. Peppy went left, spying a small storeroom at the end of the hall.
The tiny room was little more than a closet, with no door to speak of. There was, however, a corner in the shadows right next to the doorway that Peppy ducked into just as he heard the approach of several soldiers. He swept his ears down and pinned them against the wall with his head, trying to make himself small as possible.
"This way!" a soldier yelled, running amongst a group of others as they tore down the T-junction, back towards Peppy's cell.
A few moments passed, then another, smaller group approached.
"Where'd you think he went?" a deep, phlegmy voice said.
Peppy's blood boiled and he gripped the baton tighter.
It was Pigma.
"He can't have gone far," a dull, almost whiny voice enunciated.
This one was unfamiliar to him, and Peppy stayed cautious, unmoving and hidden.
"Where's Wolf? Wasn't he just behind us?" a rather high, manic voice inquired to the other two.
"He'll catch up," Pigma said with a vocal shrug, "You guys go that way, I'll check over here real quick and meet you guys."
"Let's go, Andrew," the high-voiced speaker said.
Two of the figures walked on.
At that moment, a series of heavy, shuffling footsteps approached Peppy's position, and he thoroughly tensed up, gripping the shank with one hand and the baton in the other.
A shadow darkened the doorway of the storeroom. Peppy held his breath and stayed absolutely still as Pigma's fat head poked through the doorway.
His porcine snout flexing, Pigma's beady eyes shifted from side to side, lazily scanning the storeroom.
Being just below him, just out of his field of view, Pigma didn't see Peppy. As the pig's body inched further into the storeroom, Peppy saw the blaster pistol in Pigma's hand.
It would be so easy to get revenge right now.
After all that he'd done, Pigma more than deserved it, and Peppy could use the gun.
But at the same time, Peppy couldn't forget the armed guards and the other two accomplices that expected Pigma to return in a matter of moments.
There was acid in Peppy's muscles, and he bit his lip as he silently fought the urge to stab into Pigma's neck, or maybe gouge out his eyes, or do something other than just sit there and watch him clumsily investigate. But he stayed unmoving, unbreathing, until Pigma shrugged and left.
With a relieved, almost ashamed sigh, Peppy gathered himself up and peeked around the edge of the doorway, seeing the hallway empty and quiet aside from the still-ringing alarm.
He quickly moved on, carefully darting past the hallway that Pigma and the guards had journeyed down, and continuing through the base. Peppy had no idea where he was going, nor did he really have any cohesive plan on how to escape. He supposed he would just have to improvise some more.
Passing another hallway full of prison cells, Peppy came across a stairwell and journeyed upwards one floor, finding the alarms to get much quieter after scaling one level. Exiting the ferroconcrete staircase, Peppy found himself in a large, broad hallway with several doorways leading to rooms along the corridor. Bright, yellow glow panels in the ceiling told Peppy that he was no longer in the detention level. In the quietness, he could hear the voices and movements of several people in the various rooms, which meant that it was only a matter of time before one of them came out.
His head darting from side to side, Peppy chose the closest room that sounded quiet, a small office across the hall, and quietly scampered into the room.
The office was rather sparse, consisting of a small desk with a plasma computer mounted on top, with a somewhat cheap-looking chair.
As Peppy moved forward, searching for something else he could use as a weapon, he heard a distinctive click behind him.
Gripping the baton hard, Peppy whirled around and found himself staring down the barrel of a Cygnet Model 1811 Disruptor pistol.
"Howdy," a rough, deep voice drawled.
Peppy saw on the other side of the Cygnet a tall, scruffy wolf in a black and white flight suit, a red scarf and a brown duster. The wolf's lavender right eye was hard and narrow, and looked out at Peppy with a level of sadistic intensity. A black eye patch covered the spot where his left eye used to be.
Almost forgetting the disruptor, Peppy was struck by how young the wolf was. It was then that he remembered James mentioning something about a one-eyed wolf during their first few days of confinement, and how he must've been as young as Fox.
Peppy had to agree.
"It's a little early for you ta' be outta time out, don't ya' think?" the wolf smirked, keeping the disruptor level with Peppy's face, which was almost six inches above the wolf's eyes.
Peppy examined the disruptor for a moment, noting the presence of the large, rotating gas chamber in front of the trigger. That little modification probably gave the pistol enough power to vaporize Peppy where he stood.
After a moment's silence of waiting for the wolf to fry him, Peppy inquired calmly, "Are you going to kill me?"
"Naw, I don't think so," the wolf smiled.
Almost irritated, Peppy quietly demanded, "What do you want?"
"I wanna go starfighter-to-starfighter with James McCloud," the wolf smirked.
"James McCloud is dead," Peppy snapped fearlessly.
"I know," the wolf retorted with an annoyed roll of his eye, "I had ta' watch."
Peppy glared at the wolf with a look of confusion and disgust.
"Word has it James McCloud had a rug-rat of his own," the wolf sighed, "They say he's pretty damn talented. Almost as good as his daddy,"
"What's this got to do with anything?" Peppy interrogated.
"Ya' know, I could blast you ta' bits right now, if I wanted to," the wolf snarled, "So hows 'bout you gimme a little patience?"
Peppy stayed silent, looking into that hard lavender eye, not into the barrel of the disruptor pistol.
"You're tha' last member a' Team StarFox," the wolf growled, "An' they say that kid a' his is good. Since I couldn't fight tha' fox himself all proper, I want ya' ta' make sure McCloud Junior is every bit as good as his daddy was. 'Cause ya' got ta' know that Andross is gonna be comin' for tha' rest a' Lylat, which means that I'm gonna be comin' for it. And I don't want it ta' be some kinda' cakewalk. When we meet up again, I want you ta' make sure he brings it, 'cause I'm gonna bring it hard. Ya' understand?"
Peppy was confounded, his jaw dropping just a bit.
"You're letting me go?" Peppy inquired somewhat incredulously.
The wolf chuckled.
"Hell no, old man," the wolf scoffed, "I'm givin' you a five minute head start."
With that, the wolf lowered the disruptor and stepped aside, beckoning towards the door.
"If you get ta' tha' ventilation ducts, work your way west. You'll reach tha' turbo-lifts. Ride 'em two levels up, an' you'll find yourself at tha' hangar they're keepin' your ship at," the wolf explained.
Peppy stared at the young, scruffy wolf in disbelief.
"Better hurry up an' hop away, bunny rabbit," the wolf grinned, "Tha' clock's a-tickin'."
Slowly, Peppy made his way past the wolf, leaving the office and sprinting quietly down the hall.
Out of his sight, the wolf holstered his disruptor and sighed in disillusionment.
Peppy barreled down the hallway, running past various open doorways, searching for a ventilation grate that he might be able to break into.
Whipping around a corner, Peppy ran right into a pair of armed guards, a crow and an ape, and all three of them froze in surprise.
The guards were the first to react, reaching for their blaster pistols and screaming, "Hands in the air, fucker! Drop the weapons!"
Peppy was moving forward before their hands had reached their holsters, leaping over to the guards and swinging the weighted end of his baton into the crow's beak.
With a crunch of bone and a squirt of blood, the crow squawked in pain and fell to the side, against the ape. The ape guard stumbled and moved forward, right into Peppy's soaring paw.
Peppy felt a sting in his knuckles as he drove his fist into the ape's jaw, knocking the guard backwards and tripping him over the collapsed form of his companion.
Peppy bolted, too scared of attracting the attentions of other armed guards to grab either one of their side arms.
"HELP!!" the ape shouted, struggling to get up, "Somebody stop him!"
Peppy heard the hissing snap of a blaster firing, instinctively ducking as a red laser beam shot over his head and impacted the corridor wall, exploding in a shower of sparks.
A number of screams and shouts of alarm could be heard from the depths of the corridor as another blaster bolt whizzed by Peppy's face.
It wouldn't be long before a lot more guards showed up.
Peppy shot behind another corner, mainly for cover, and almost missed the large ventilation grate up against the wall.
Frantically, Peppy slammed the baton into the grating, bending the metal inwards but not breaking it open.
Peppy smashed the baton into the grate again, still doing little more than further deform it.
"Come on, you bitch!" Peppy snapped, cocking the baton over his shoulder and bringing it against the grate once again with a yell.
The grate snapped apart with a metallic shriek.
Peppy could hear footsteps swiftly approaching.
He grabbed a hold of the torn grate and pulled, stretching the thin metal more, tearing it open further. With a final tug, the grate came free, and Peppy stumbled backwards slightly, as the jagged piece of metal grate in his hands sliced into his palm and drew blood.
Disregarding the red liquid oozing from his right paw, soaking the grey fur red and warming it up in a sickening fashion, Peppy kicked open the rest of the grate and dived forward into the dark space, crawling into the shadows until he felt his feet slide into the ventilation duct.
The blood was dripping from his palm, leaving a trail of red that stained his chest and legs as he crawled further, blindly, into the blackness.
Taking the first corner that he felt out, Peppy almost got stuck as he dragged himself fully out of sight, just as the running footsteps reached the grate.
"Shit, he's in the vents!" one of them exclaimed, "Sound the alarm!"
A pair of blaster shots echoed deafeningly in the ducts as the guards vainly fired in an attempt to stop Peppy's progress. Peppy smiled to himself as he shuffled his way into the dark.
He owed that scary little wolf one.
Unable to orient himself west, Peppy just continued forwards, letting his intuition tell him which way to go when he felt out a turn.
A checkerboard of light appeared up ahead, and Peppy could hear the muffled sounds of far-off voices.
He tried to make himself as quiet as possible as he continued, dragging himself through the tight enclosed durasteel tunnel.
Peppy was glad that he wasn't claustrophobic.
As he passed the ventilation grate, he heard a pair of guards arguing outside, seeing two pairs of booted feet framed in the grate.
"Flush him out, then!" one guard snapped, "Pump the vents full of CN-20; just nerve gas the shit outta him!"
"It's central air, dumbass," the other guard retorted, "Gas the vents and you'll gas the whole base!"
"Issue rebreathers to everyone. Or seal off the floors that we know he hasn't gotten to yet," the guard shrugged verbally.
"Hell-o! It's nerve gas! You'd need a full HEV suit to be alright," the other guard struck down.
"Well, we could go in there after him," the guard suggested.
"Oh yeah, that's a great idea," the other guard mocked, "Crawling around inside a system of dark, confined vents, looking for a prisoner armed with a knife. And let's not even think about what would happen if one of us got stuck."
"Well how the hell he'd get in there, anyway?" the guard demanded.
"He opened a grate and crawled in," the other guard said slowly, "What's the big mystery?"
"I know how, smartass; what I mean is how was he able to?" the guard growled, "Every ventilation grate in this place is big enough for someone to just open up and crawl into. What kind of moron designs a military base with vents big enough to fit a person? Sounds like a pretty big loophole in security if you ask me."
With that, the guard kicked the grate lightly, and Peppy froze, scared that he'd been spotted.
"Don't ask me, I didn't design it!" the other guard snapped.
Peppy moved on, allowing himself an inaudible chuckle of amusement as he crawled back into the darkness.
He spent what felt like twenty more minutes slithering through the ducts, groping blindly through the darkness and the dust and the labyrinth turns. He began to think that he might not ever get out, simply trapped forever in this duct system on Venom. His hand was still wet with blood, though the bleeding had slowed a bit.
As he continued on, Peppy heard a distinct mechanical rumble that lightly shook the grates.
Fearing that they had done something to kill him while he was in the vents, Peppy froze up.
Then the rumbling continued with nothing happening, and curious, Peppy crawled ahead, where the dimmest of lights could be seen in the distance.
Working his way down to the grate at the end of the duct, Peppy looked out into a dark, cylindrical shaft, empty and vacant aside from the rumbling that issued from it.
A dark shape whooshed past the grate and stopped about a yard below, confirming Peppy's hopes: somehow, he'd found the turbolifts.
Quickly, he gripped the baton in his bloody right hand and jabbed forward into the grate, hearing the metal screech and deform in response. He smashed it again, and this time the grate fell outward, dropping out of the wall of the shaft and onto the top of the turbolift car.
Peppy slithered forwards and grabbed both sides of the open passage, already hearing the turbolift powering up to move on.
With a mighty heave, he pulled himself forward, his one hand almost slipping from the blood soaking it, pulling himself out into the shaft up to his waist.
Just as he began to push himself out further, gravity went to work on Peppy and he fell fully out of the ventilation ducts, landing in a heap on top of the turbolift car.
His side aching, Peppy gritted his teeth in anxiety as a voice from below said, "Did you hear something?"
"Don't pull that shit on me, you're not getting out of this that easily," another voice said, "Lemme see the pictures."
Peppy let out a relieved sigh as the turbolift hummed to life and began to ascend. He picked himself up and tried to find a hatch to enter the interior of the turbolift car.
"It's my girlfriend," the voice whined.
"And you lost the bet," the other voice shrugged, "Which means I get to take a look at those pictures of your girlfriend's big, plastic boobs."
"They are not that bad," the voice argued.
Peppy found the hatch, seeing that it could be opened from the inside and would need to be pried open.
He readied his shank, pressing it into the crack between the hatch and the rest of the turbolift.
"I'm not saying they're bad," the other voice remarked, "I'm saying they're fake."
"They are not!" the voice protested.
Peppy began to pry the hatch, feeling it nudge and give way almost instantly just as the glass blade of the shank cracked. He opened it slowly, and said a silent thank-you to whoever made the hinges of the hatch so quiet.
In the turbolift car were a pair of guards in maroon uniforms and black helmets. One of them had a pair of curling ram's horns protruding from the helmet, the other had a naked rat's tail coming out of the seat of it's pants.
The baton gripped firm in his hands, Peppy decided to target the ram first.
"No offense, Mort, but I've seen mouse-girls before. All of them have mosquito-bite tits," the ram explained, "Saying that your girlfriend's tits are natural is kind of like me trying to pass my horns off as a new hair style. It's a ball-faced lie and everyone knows it."
"Shut up," said Mort, "Sheila does not have implants."
"Oh, is that what she told you?" the ram scoffed.
Mort never had a chance to answer, as Peppy dropped from the hatch into the turbolift, halfway falling on top of the ram, halfway shoving him into the wall of the elevator.
Mort the rat was too stunned to do anything but drop his jaw as Peppy yanked the blaster pistol out of the ram's holster.
As soon as the blaster was in Peppy's hand, however, both of them proceeded to go nuts.
"What the fuck?!" the ram screamed, struggling to bring himself to his feet as Mort gasped and fumbled to draw his own blaster.
Not even taking time to breathe, Peppy put the blaster right up to Mort's chest and fired at point blank range.
The blaster pistol barked and shot a red bolt of energy that blew a hole right through the rat's chest and scorched the wall of the turbolift car behind him.
"MORT!" the ram shouted, struggling to get up, but Peppy grabbed him by one of his horns and pressed the end of the blaster pistol to the back of the ram's neck.
"Shut up," Peppy snapped, pressing the EMERGENCY STOP button on the turbolift, feeling the car jerk for a moment as it braked to a standstill.
Mort's corpse slid down the wall until it slouched on the floor, a smoking, black hole poking through its maroon uniform.
The ram breathed hard, nervous and scared as Peppy dug the barrel of the blaster into the ram's flesh.
"Woah, don't kill me, man," the ram pleaded.
"You would kill me," Peppy snarled, "Your friends downstairs were going to kill me. Your boss wants to kill me. Just what is it that makes you so undeserving now that the tables have turned?"
"Please, please God, don't kill me!" the ram sobbed.
"Beg to me!!" Peppy barked, "God doesn't live on this planet."
"Alright…" the ram cried, "Please, please…."
"Where are they keeping the Arwings they captured?" Peppy demanded.
"The what?" the ram murmured.
"The Arwings!!" Peppy roared, "The ships they captured! WHERE! ARE! THEY?!"
The ram yelped in panic as Peppy raised his hoarse voice.
"Level 3," the ram choked out, "Please don't kill me."
"I heard you the first time," Peppy snapped.
The turbolift had risen to level 7 by that time, stopped between level 7 and 8 by the emergency stop. Peppy disengaged the stop button and pressed the button for level 3.
The turbolift began to descend.
"If I don't kill you, are you going to stay here and keep out of my way?" Peppy demanded.
"Yes!" the ram cried.
"I don't believe you," Peppy snarled.
"I swear," the ram exhaled nervously, "I swear you'll never see me again."
The turbolift reached Level 3, the doors opening to reveal a hallway with durasteel-plated walls.
Peppy quickly backed away and collapsed the baton, stuffing it into the pocket of his flight suit, then grabbed Mort's blaster up from the floor of the turbolift car.
As he stepped out of the turbolift, one blaster in each hand, Peppy aimed at the ram's foot and fired off a shot.
The blaster gave off a pop and sent a bolt of energy searing through the ram's boot.
The ram began to scream loudly and curse as the turbolift doors shut.
"Compromise," Peppy whispered.
He took off down the hallway, keeping his blasters low to minimize his profile. He didn't bother to shoot any of the holocams he passed, it would just trigger another alarm. That wolf had given him a five-minute head start, long since expired, and had likely told the guards where Peppy would be. As he continued down the hall, he could indeed hear the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Don't let him make it to the hangar!" someone shouted from down the hall.
Peppy could hear them coming up to meet him, probably just around the corner.
"He's coming up here right now!" a guard shouted.
Peppy stopped, pausing against the corner in the hallway.
He could hear them, just around the bend, readying their weapons. There were a lot of them. More than likely, they were all issued blaster rifles, instead of just pistols.
For a moment, Peppy regretted not bringing the ram guard along. He could've used him as a shield.
Peppy growled and gritted his teeth.
He didn't come this far just to die now. And if he was meant to die here, he might as well do it in style.
Gripping the handles of the two blasters in his hands, Peppy breathed in, then out.
Then he leapt around the corner, pointing each blaster forward.
Peppy spotted a group of twelve guards, all armed with DC-2 blaster rifles, and none of them were expecting him to come around the corner guns blazing.
Peppy had already pulled the triggers and fired a blaster bolt into the chests of two of the guards before the others even knew he was there.
A cry of alarm rose up from the guards, who fell back, readying their rifles and aiming wildly, firing out of blind fear. Peppy fired two more shots into the group, and two more guards dropped dead.
It was then that Peppy bolted back around the corner as dozens of green blaster bolts began to rain out down the hallway, peppering the ferroconcrete floor just as Peppy took cover.
"Fuck! He's packing!" one of the guards roared in alarm.
Only eight more, Peppy thought to himself, you can do this.
Peppy ducked down, knowing they'd be aiming for someone standing upright, and swung his arm around the corner, firing a shot at another guard, hitting the ape in the stomach and sending him falling to the ground in a fit of screams.
Peppy pulled his arm back just as the soldiers began to yell in alarm and fire repeatedly at the section of the hallway that Peppy once occupied.
"We need backup!" one guard screamed.
"Rush him!" another yelled.
"No way!" was the response.
Peppy smiled.
"I'll do it!" another snapped, and Peppy heard a series of quick running footsteps.
Peppy leapt up and retreated a few meters down the hall, moving to the other side of the corridor and leveling both of his blasters at the corner.
Just as another ape rounded the corner, aiming his rifle at the space that Peppy used to be, Peppy fired both blasters, shooting a pair of red blaster bolts into the ape soldier's chest. The ape flew backwards in a puff of smoke, and the other guards began to curse and yell in surprise.
Six down. Just take out the other half, Peppy thought to himself as the soldiers frantically shot at the end of the hallway in hopes of establishing covering fire.
He withdrew the baton from his pocket, extending it once again with a flick of his wrist.
Peppy then threw the baton down the hall, watching as it hit the wall around the corner and create a loud, attention-getting bang!
The soldiers yelled in alarm, firing wildly at the baton, the high tension of the situation making them sloppy. Peppy leaned around the corner in the confusion and fired off one, two, then three shots, each one hitting a soldier in his upper chest.
"Shit!" one of the three remaining soldiers yelled, firing at the corner with the other two.
Peppy had already taken cover.
"Run for it!" another soldier screamed.
The firing stopped for a moment, and Peppy flew out from behind the corner, opening fire on a pair of guards.
The two soldiers dropped like stones, whilst a third was in the process of running for his life. Peppy shot him in the back without a moments pause, and he went down with a scream.
One of the soldiers, the one that Peppy had shot in the stomach was still alive, rolling around on the floor in agony, barking for help.
Peppy shot the guard in the face and silenced his cries.
He stood there, for a moment, looking at the twelve dead bodies surrounding him. Peppy closed his eyes soundlessly, breathed in and out.
This was war. It had to be done.
Peppy then shoved one of the blaster pistols into his pocket, tossing the other one to the floor, and picked up one of the rifles that used to belong to the guards.
It felt heavy in his hands, a long and slender weapon of death that fit comfortably into his paws.
Holding the front end of the rifle up with his other hand, Peppy charged forward, past the dead bodies of the guards.
As he ran down the hallway, he almost missed the two large doors labeled with the words 'LEVEL 3 RESEARCH HANGAR'.
Peppy pressed the button on the side of the door, and heard a hydraulic whine as the doors began to slide open.
From down the hall, shouts and heavy steps began to approach. This time, there were a lot more soldiers coming.
He had to hurry.
Peppy slid himself in between the doors just as they parted enough to allow him passage, finding himself inside a cavernous hangar bay with bright display lights beaming down from the ceiling.
The first thing that Peppy noticed was the group of soldiers inside the hangar, who saw him and opened fire.
With an animal yell, Peppy took off, holding down the trigger of the blaster rifle and feeling it kick as it unleashed a hail of green blaster bolts, on full automatic fire.
Peppy strafed the group of guards, circling around them from afar in order to concentrate fire on them and avoid their shots. Dozens of green blaster bolts whizzed by his face and body, heating up the air as the guards began to drop with pathetic screams.
Time seemed to slow for Peppy, and he saw the blaster bolt lance toward him and graze his shoulder, burning a patch of his fur and flesh.
Another blaster shot skimmed his kneecap, and Peppy fell with a cry of pain.
He still didn't take his finger off the trigger, firing and continuing to take down more soldiers, despite his own prostrate position.
Another laser beam shot into his side, leaving a scorching scar across Peppy's right hip.
Peppy bellowed through the pain, spraying the last guard with blaster fire until he fell to the floor in a puff of acrid smoke.
Breathing hard, in pain from the burns all over his body, Peppy felt his body beg for him to surrender.
He was tired.
He was starving.
He was injured more than he'd ever been in his life.
But he'd gotten much too far to give up now.
Gnashing his teeth together, Peppy stabbed the butt of the rifle into the ground, using it as a crutch to help him to his feet.
He looked over, past the dead bodies of the soldiers, and saw his salvation:
Sitting on the floor of the hangar, lethal and blade like with their silver frames, like a pair of giant needles with wings swept so far back one would wonder how they could possibly fly, was a pair of prototype Space Dynamics R-16 Arwing star fighters.
Hearing the approach of the large group of soldiers from the hallways outside the hangar, Peppy hurriedly hobbled over to one of them, leaning against one of the thin blue gravity diffusers before climbing onto the side with a grunt of pain.
Detecting his presence, the instrument console lit up and the canopy opened wide.
Ditching the blaster rifle, Peppy dove into the cockpit, wincing with pain as he fidgeted around to get into the seat.
"Come on, come on, come on," Peppy whispered, hearing the approach of the soldiers.
'WELCOME, PEPPY HARE', the computer view screen said to him.
Peppy nodded, glad that the fighter hadn't been tampered with enough to not recognize him, and pressed the red 'ENGINE START' button.
Almost instantly, the two g-diffusers whined to life, rumbling and lifting the fighter into the air a bit.
Peppy looked to the other end of the hangar as he closed the canopy with the press of a button, seeing the large durasteel door over the hangar opening. It would be relatively simple to blast it open with the Arwing's laser cannons. First, however, Peppy wanted to exact some payback.
He hovered the Arwing over the hangar floor, pointing the laser cannons on the wings towards the doorway from the hangar to the hallways.
Not a moment later, a massive group of Venomian soldiers, possibly a whole platoon, began to flood in through the doorway, stopping and aiming their rifles at the Arwing as soon as they entered.
The blaster bolts looked pathetic from the Arwing's cockpit, being absorbed harmlessly by the fighter's deflector shields.
"Not today, boys," Peppy huffed, pressing his thumb to the firing button.
With a shrieking bark, a pair of blue laser blasts erupted from the cannons on the fighter's wings, impacting the floor of the hangar right under the soldiers and causing a massive explosion, throwing many of the Venomians high into the air like rag dolls.
The few surviving soldiers began to frantically run back through the doorway, and Peppy gave off a triumphant laugh as he fired once more for good measure, sending another pair of blue laser shots into the doorway, producing a massive explosion that melted and deformed the metal of the surrounding area.
Pulling back gently on the control stick, Peppy rotated the Arwing until it faced the large door blocking the hangar, targeting the heavy durasteel.
Tapping the firing button multiple times, Peppy watched as several laser blasts lanced from the cannons and impacted the door, shattering it like glass in a glorious explosion of sparks.
The hole blown in the door was just about big enough to fly the Arwing through.
Peppy carefully guided the Arwing through the hole, hearing the wings scrape against the metal ever so slightly near the end, and then found himself hovering outside on the rocky, toxic wastelands of Venom.
The sky was the color of fire, and the rocks the color of sludge, not a single living thing in sight. Dominating the landscape, however, were huge towering monolithic columns of black and brownish-green stone, emblazoned with the face of an ape staring out stoically at whoever would look.
The numerous effigies of Andross made Peppy sick to his stomach.
This is what killed James.
This is what all of Lylat would look like if Andross wasn't stopped.
Peppy shook his head, realizing that he wasn't out of trouble yet. Andross could still scramble swarms of fighters to intercept Peppy.
Knowing how difficult it would be to fly the ship without a headset, Peppy programmed the control panels to simplify themselves as much as possible, in order to concentrate simply on flying.
Peppy didn't know what he'd do if he ended up in a dogfight trying to escape. He could only pray it would be easy from now on.
He powered up the engines and shoved the throttle slowly forward, feeling the engine scream to life and soar gracefully and swiftly into the air.
As the poisonous lands of Venom began to get farther and farther away, Peppy dialed in the order to the main computer to open up a comm. channel with the Great Fox, praying that ROB had somehow been able to keep the ship close all this time.
"Come in, Great Fox, this is Peppy, do you copy?" Peppy called out.
There was no answer.
Peppy began to breathe harder. He prayed that, after all this, his escape hadn't been for nothing. There was no way he could make it back to Corneria without the Great Fox's warp engines.
"Great Fox, this is Peppy, do you copy?" Peppy said desperately.
Nothing but silence in response.
It was just like last time.
Had both James and ROB left him, providing only their hopes that Peppy could make it where they couldn't? How much more had Peppy lost?
"ROB, please!" Peppy cried out, on the verge of tears.
"This is Team StarFox mother ship Great Fox, responding," ROB-64's synthesized voice sounded over the comm.
"ROB!!" Peppy shouted with joy, "It's great to hear your voice! Where are you?"
"I have stationed the Great Fox outside of Venom's defense network for the past twelve days," ROB answered, "I have awaited for one of you to establish contact since then. What are your orders?"
Peppy was almost overcome with relief.
He'd made it.
He'd escaped.
"Bring the Great Fox to the other side of Venom. I'll meet you there; we need to get the hell out of here," Peppy instructed.
"What is the status of James and Pigma?" ROB inquired.
Peppy cringed with sorrow and breathed out.
"Mission is aborted," Peppy said quietly, "Pigma has gone rogue. James is dead."
"I offer my... condolences," ROB said, as warmly as an android could, "Great Fox will meet you at the established rendezvous point. Great Fox out."
With that, the comm. cut off, leaving Peppy alone once again as he began to exit the atmosphere of Venom. As the dusty, toxic clouds cleared, Peppy saw the black, starry familiar expanse of space. It was the first time he'd seen the stars in what felt like a lifetime.
And for some reason, they had never felt so lonely.
SOME FURTHER NOTES:
-For those of you that thought that Wolf's blaster sounded kind of weird-looking, it's because I wanted to hype up that whole 'space cowboy' thing I've got going with Wolf. So his early blaster looks kind of like a six-shooter, with a revolving gas chamber.
-Also, the Arwings sound a little odd-looking because they're prototype Arwings. They were supposed to sound like the ones from the original Star Fox SNES game. That's why it's an R-16 Arwing instead of an R-64 like in "A Great Day To Die". I thought it fit the whole 'past' motif.
-Normally, I would've included a horribly detailed, painful torture scene documenting James' death, but I realized that I already gave you that in "A Great Day To Die"! Sure, it was a hallucination, but that's how I saw James' final moments no matter what. Plus, the story was from Peppy's point of view, so it would've been kind of out of place.
Hope you guys are enjoying this. Reviewing me helps me write faster, so keep it up. And Kadhil, thanks for coming along for this story, too.