Star Fox Adventures: The Resurrection of Star Wolf

by LylatChronicler

The end of the Lylat Wars has brought about a bleak era, one where after years of solitude, Star Wolf is but a faded legend. None know Wolf by his true name, and his memories and power are both fading. His last hope lies on a desolate planet where a new war, new allies, and possibly a new life await him... (Part III of the O'Donnell Saga).

6. Chapter 6

NOTICE:

Hey, guys, it's me again! Yeah, I know what you're all thinking: "What took so God damn long?"

Heheh, well, that's kind of a funny story…

You see, I just got done with that ludicrous Andross chapter back in January (yeah, you're not the only one who thought it was tedious), when I was starting on my next chapter and started thinking on what the future of the plotline was gonna be like. So I laid out my overall plot in front of me, and well….

It sucked. It was HORRIBLE. I'm not even going to bother showing it to you. So, I scrapped it. I started all over, and I spent the last few months researching and brainstorming to make the story exactly as I promised: full of new characters, development, and relationships that would carry the story along.

So that's why it took so long. Hopefully, I'll be updating more frequently because school's almost over, so expect more chapters in the long run.

Chapter 6: Justified Injustice: The Price of Peace

Unknown Vessel, 5 ALW

"Ow…ouch! GARGH! DAMN IT!"

"Look, Wolf," Leon said for was probably the billionth time. "Squirming around like an insane Z-gull trapped under a net won't make it less painful!"

"AGH! Sorry," grumbled Wolf, wincing. "I don't know what's worse….the fact that I'm this battered up, or the fact that you putting on these bandages feels like I'm being mauled by a Venomian Dragoon with a saw!"

They were sitting near the observatory window in the traveler's quarters aboard a passenger ship. Their previous ship, the one that they had stolen before their trip to Venom, had been boarded by Cornerian Troops. In an attempt to escape attention from the authorities, they snuck on to an escape pod and found transport on Katina. It was a public cruiser, filled with passengers, so they could blend in easy.

So here Wolf was, wincing and shouting as Leon attempted to bandage him up.

But he was doing it roughly and without gentle attention, like he was healing Wolf at the tick of a time bomb.

"Ok, that's the last one!" Leon backed off reproachfully. "Besides, don't diss my healing skills. Shooting fire all over the place like a lunatic might look awesome, but it's not worth two Lylatines if you can't even patch yourself afterwards."

Wolf rubbed at his bandages gingerly, and sat down on his bunk. "When did you of all people get so good at healing? You're Leon Powalski! Your specialty is dismembering people, not putting them back together!"

"True," Leon stretched back into an egg-shaped chair. "But I took an advanced class in Human Anatomy back at the Flight Academy." Snick! He flicked out his switchblade and started shining its lethal edge with a strip of cloth. "I thought it would come in useful later on."

"Human anatomy, huh?" Wolf said, his eyebrows, raised somewhat. "That never seemed like your kind of thing."

"The more you know about the human body, the better you'll be at taking it down. Knowing all the weak spots. Assassin Rule #2….right after 'give enemies the most painful death possible.' And anyway," his tone became irritable. "It's your own fault you're not good at healing. You never did take any of the important classes…all you ever did was brag about how awesome the Team was gonna be-"

"Okay, you've made your point," Wolf snapped. "Jeez….you almost sound like Katt…"

Wolf sat back, his head out in space again.

The academy….I wonder what's become of it now….

He examined his bandaged hands wearily.

And what's become of me…

But I guess Andross did a lot less damage on the outside….

His eyes became pained.

He was still in recovery from the horrible events that had just taken place back on Venom. It wasn't something he could get over quickly…

The things that he had heard down there would haunt him forever. It filled him with a sense of fear and anguish that he never wanted to feel again. He had never felt so…so…

Helpless.

He just stood there, in that dark cave, and listened to Andross manipulate him with self-afflicting truths…about him being nothing but an experiment…the feeling of being trapped without a way out. It was that precise feeling that made him feel helpless.

And on top of everything, Andross had almost broken his resolve. He had made Wolf cross the one boundary he drew when he fought…

His emotions.

I can't let my emotions drive me into letting my enemies finding a weak point... He told himself firmly. If they see me give any additional emotion, they'll be able to predict what I do next…

Just like Andross…

He remembered how corrupt the Lylat Wars had made him. How hungry for revenge he was back then…for battle…

How he almost lost himself…to that thing inside him…

That's how this mess started in the first place…

My arrogance and bloodlust got a hold of me…I almost fell in….

I almost let everything important slip away…

He looked at Leon.

Leon looked up, catching Wolf's expression. "Still thinking about what you heard back there?"

Wolf looked away. "No…that's behind me now. It's nothing."

Leon's eyebrows furrowed concernedly.

Wolf had told him everything. Andross's plans….his schemes….how he had let everything, including the War, fall into place…

Everything about Wolf's past, and how he controlled it…

Well…

Wolf thought about the sapphire in his pocket.

Almost everything…I guess I just don't feel ready mentioning that yet…

Leon broke the tense silence. "Look, Wolf, I can tell you haven't forgotten it. Just let it go…I mean….you can't really believe everything he said…"

Wolf looked at the ground sullenly. "I don't know, Leon….you weren't there. You weren't there in the room when he was describing everything…everything that had happened…." He clenched his fists. "Everything that was going to happen….like he knew it all…"

"I don't believe it," Leon said stubbornly. "And neither should you. I mean….I know Andross was a schemer from the beginning, but he can't have planned every single damn thing that's happened so far. No one can do that, least of all that ape. It's just…" His eyes searched around the room, desperately trying to find the right word. "..just…just not possible! Come on….the Red Baron? The Black Demon? Ricky Bang? Immelmann? Doolittle? He can't have overpowered all of them…they're the most famous pilots in history!"

"But what if it's true?" Wolf asked miserably. "What if….what if he's right? What if everything we know….about those legends, about flying itself….what if it's all just a sham? What if it's….just what he wants?"

"Oh, come on!" Leon said with an eye roll. "Why wouldn't he say something like that? He's just trying to get under your skin. Oldest trick in the book…trying to shake you off balance so that he can ruin your confidence. He tried the same thing with Fox, and you don't see him pouting like he's in a soap opera. The Academy….the Pilots…Flying…it's not in his control. It's a way of fighting that's existed for years…it's what's inside you and me, and it's not something he can touch!"

"I want to believe you, Leon….but…" He looked down in discouragement. "I can't help but feel that it's the truth…maybe I am just his experiment…maybe all those battles….all the things I've done…that have gotten me this far…are nothing but a sad veil over the truth….that the life I knew wasn't real. That I'm…." He looked at his hands. "…nothing." He rubbed the area on his forearm where he had seen the scan.

It wasn't there now. It would only show when exposed to specific heat…the lava of Venom. One more reason not to go back there….

He hadn't shown Leon yet. He didn't want to… He wanted it to vanish, disappear…but the lack of its visibility on Wolf's arm didn't wipe the knowledge of its existence from his mind.

Leon looked at him, the stubborn look in his face fading to a sad understanding look. For a moment, he looked just as melancholy as Wolf.

Then, as if shaking himself out of it, he straightened up.

Thunk!

The stuck his knife into the table next to him and pulled his chair up to Wolf, his eyes shifting into a down-to-business mode.

"Listen, Wolf," Leon said in a determined voice. "Because I won't say this again…there is nothing…nothing inhuman about you. What you do, who you are….who you are to me….it has nothing to do with that disembodied shitpile of an Emperor. I've known you practically my whole life, and I know that you're never a quitter. Nothing gets in your way….not Star Fox, not Andross, nothing in the galaxy. I know what he said down there…and guess what? It doesn't mean shit to me. I know who you are…even if you don't. Remember our first missions back at the academy, how we were on the run from the opposing Team, and you took them all out, nineteen to one?"

Wolf smiled at the memory. Both of them, as cocky teenagers fighting the odds without a care in the world, with nothing to stop them…. "How could I forget? That was our first victory…as a Team."

"Whatever Andross has done to you or taken from you, that doesn't change who you are…you're the best pilot in the galaxy….you know, I know, hell, the whole galaxy knows…and so does Fox. He remembers who you are, every time you throw each other around in your ships and cross each other's hulls with bolt after bolt of laser fire….at that moment, he knows who he's dealing with. And every time I watch you in the cockpit, pounding fighters, blasting incoming missiles right before they reach you…it reminds me why you're the Leader of Star Wolf. Every time I fought next to you, or flew with you on the brink of another battle, I knew by the way you dove into the fray without a second thought, the way you topple ships and send them flying….it's inspiring….legendary…the kind of flying that people will tell the next generation for years to come….you're a true pilot, Wolf. Sure, you can be an ass sometimes," his light blue eyes rolled, and he smiled mischievously. "And you can be quite the hotheaded bastard when you want to be….but you're also tough. Strong…capable….fearless….everything a Leader should be…and no one can take that from you. Andross didn't give you that, Wolf, or any of your traits or emotions. You're the way you are because you choose to be, not because he wants you to be. You weren't made a pilot by Andross….you were born one. And whatever messes we get into, no matter how hard it gets….never forget that. It doesn't matter how hopeless things get, or even if the entire galaxy's against us. What matters…is if you let that change who you are. Never forget who you are, Wolf….and don't ever let anyone try to tell you what you aren't. Because no matter what anyone says, I know that you're the best…and that no matter what happens, I'll always be right next to you, taken all the shots right to you, and will always fight the odds with you. I'll always be a part of your Team….because you're my best friend. Got that?"

All of Wolf's affection and warm friendship for Leon rushed forward. All this time, he'd been thinking about his own selfish moping….and not once had he thought about the person who had stuck with him through everything.

And I almost left it all behind…

Back on Venom…when I went after Fox…

I was so desperate for revenge….I left him behind….I didn't go back for him went he got shot down…

After all he had done for me…

I almost lost him…

Leon held out his hand. The weary, tired look that had washed away all of his style and class as an assassin that he had obtained as Pigma's associate, after all these years, was gone. The familiar spark that Wolf knew as the Great Leon Powalski, Right Wing Man of the Star Wolf Team, was back in his eyes.

Wolf smiled and clasped his hand. "Thanks, Leon. For everything."

At least…

If the galaxy is against me….and all is lost…

No matter what…

Leon's still here for me….

And that's all I really need…

Leon sat back in his chair, his voice returning to its usual sarcastic tone. "Okay, no need to get sentimental. Hearing someone you get all discouraged and whiny is just annoying. Besides, I don't want to have to take down Star Fox all by myself. Sure, the annoying bird's on my list, but the fox is on the top of yours."

Wolf laughed. "Yeah, you got that right. Still….you almost had me there for a second. You seemed mushy enough to pass off for Peppy or someone…. That's why I never let my emotions take control of-"

He stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes wide.

Oh shit….

I completely forgot….how the hell did I forget…?

Leon sat up. "What's wrong?"

"The chip!" Wolf's heart was pounding rapidly. "It's still inside me!"

Leon's eyes darted around in confusion. "Chip? What chip?"

"Andross's chip!" Wolf said, now in a real panic. "The one he used to control me, the one he used to spy on me ever since I went to the academy! He watches our every move, plans our next, makes the path for it…" The color drained from his face. "HE COULD BE WATCHING US RIGHT NOW!"

The horrible closed-in-a-cage feeling overcame Wolf again. It wasn't over…even now, Andross was still a part of him.

I won't let him manipulate my fate anymore…

Not this time…

He looked around desperately. I CAN'T let him!

"Wait," Leon said, attempting to keep his breath steady, but even he was getting a little scared. "Just a second…we destroyed the remote, threw it in the lava….he can't control its functions now, can he? Besides….Andross went down with that mountain….he can't be still alive….can he?" He didn't look so assured.

"I don't know…" Wolf said pacing the room. "It can't be that simple…with Andross, it never is!"

"But if you're right, and Andross is still using that chip….to spy on you, and to spy on us…"

Wolf stopped. "…then we could be going straight into a trap. Our next move, off this ship….out that door….anywhere…he'll know how to catch up to us….he'll always be watching…"

Leon's green scales started to pale. "We have to get that chip out."

"How?" Wolf asked desperately. "Leon, it's inside my body! He said that he hid it somewhere, and no matter what surgery was adopted on it, its cloaking device would disguise it from any modern x-ray!"

Leon got to his feet. "What? But it could be anywhere inside you!"

"I know!" Wolf rummaged his hands all over his stomach rapidly, as if trying feel for a metallic feel or something. Anything. "I don't care where it is or how I get it out! I need this thing out of my body!"

"And how the hell are we supposed to do that?" Leon shouted, both desperate and frustrated at the same time. "We can't just poke holes in you like a Swiss cheese until we find it! There has to be a way to do it!"

"You're the anatomy expert!" Wolf said in an irritated voice.

"I took a class," Leon said through gritted teeth. "That doesn't make me a freaking expert!"

Wolf looked around frantically. "Then do something! I don't know….just…." He doesn't know what it's like to have a chip in his body! He thought. How could he know how creepy this is?

Leon took a deep breath. "Okay….look, this isn't going to get us anywhere." He placed a hand on Wolf's shoulder. "What we really need to do now is to-"

He stopped in mid-sentence. His eyes fell on Wolf's shoulder, some new realization in them.

Wolf looked around awkwardly. "Um…is there something….wrong….?"

SLAM!

Leon threw Wolf against the wall roughly.

"HEY! What the hell are you-?"

Leon pressed ear against Wolf's shoulder.

Wolf looked down, eyebrows raised. "Um…."

"SHH!" Leon hissed. "Just shut up for a second!"

Wolf scowled. It didn't hurt being thrown against the wall, but he did stumble over his tail in the sudden process, which was really irritating (Leon couldn't understand. He didn't even have fur)

Leon placed his index finger on Wolf's shoulder. "Something isn't right…"

Wolf looked at his ruffled-up tail reproachfully. "Really?"

"No, I mean…" Leon placed his index finger on his arm. "When I place my finger hear, all I can feel is your constant bloodstream. But over here…" He placed it back on Wolf's shoulder. "There's something else."

The irritancy went out of Wolf's eyes. "Wait-how can you even feel that?"

Leon held up his three-fingered hand. "Scales, man. Really easy to pick up sensitivity of any kind bouncing off of them. It's pretty easy to feel with all this…." He scowled. "…warm-blood."

Wolf rolled his eyes. "Well, we can't all be as cold-blooded as you are."

"I don't find that amusing…not one bit." Leon went back to Wolf's shoulder. "Anyway, there's something different here….it's not the movement of your cells….or the pulsing of your muscles over your bone marrow….it's more like….whirring."

"Whirring?" Wolf cocked his head.

"Metallic buzzing. Like a machine."

They looked at each other, eyes wide.

"Looks like we found your chip."

Wolf looked down. "It's in my shoulder?"

Leon shrugged. "Well, that's a relief. I guess…"

Wolf looked up. "What do you mean?"

"It could be worse. Andross could have put that chip anywhere in your body, and he put it in your shoulder instead of something like your-"

He froze.

"What's wrong now?" Wolf asked (he had a feeling he didn't want Leon to finish that sentence).

"Shh!" Leon held up his hand. His bright blue eyes darted around for a moment. "You hear that?"

Wolf's ears perked up, but didn't pick anything up.

"Wh-?"

BUZZZ.

All of a sudden, a faint voice-a monotone female voice-echoed in the air….and it was coming from Wolf's shoulder.

"Location of Observation Chip discovered. Subject cannot be allowed to remove chip. Shutting down of subject sequence initiated-"

"WHAT?" Wolf yelled.

"Chip will self-destruct in 59….58….57…"

Wolf and Leon looked at each other, eyes huge, both thinking the same thing.

Wolf looked down, almost laughing at their luck. "Oh no."

Then, all hell broke loose.

"WE HAVE TO GET THIS THING OUT!" Wolf yelled. "SELF-DESTRUCT…WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Leon screamed, his eyes darting around desperately. "ALL MACHINES EXPLODE WHEN THEY SELF-DESTRUCT, THAT'S ABOUT ALL I KNOW!"

"I DON'T WANT TO EXPLODE!" Wolf stated the obvious, but the state of panic they were both locked in seemed to make them both lose grip. "I JUST BROKE OUT OF JAIL! I HAVE MY WHOLE LIFE AHEAD OF ME! I DON'T NEED THIS!"

"Okay! Okay!" Leon said loudly, trying to grasp hold of the situation, but his voice didn't meet the franticness in his eyes. "WE HAVE TO-TO-AGH! I DON'T KNOW…I don't know…I don't know…" He began to mumble to himself desperately.

"50….49….48…."

Wolf ran his hands through his head-fur. "GOD DAMMIT! THIS THING'S ON A FUCKING TIMER! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?

"I DON'T KNOW!" Leon said desperately. "I….I…"

"WAIT!" Wolf's eyes lit up with a desperate hope. "We….we could get it out…you know anatomy….you know surgery, right? CAN YOU GET IT OUT?"

"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO SURGERY ON YOU?" Leon shouted desperately. "I DON'T EVEN HAVE THE TOOLS!"

"YOU HAVE A KNIFE…JUST DO IT!"

Leon folded his arms. "OH YEAH, REAL ORIGINAL…AND WHO'S GONNA PUT YOU ON ANNESTHESIA, EINSTEIN, YOU? YOU WANNA DO A SURGERY WHILE YOU'RE FULLY CONSCIOUS?"

"43…42….41…."

"OH MY GOD….OH MY GOD…." Wolf moaned over and over hopelessly. "LOOK, I DON'T CARE HOW YOU DO IT! JUST GET IT OUT! DO IT WHILE I'M CONSCIOUS, I DON'T CARE!"

"YOU IDIOT! DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'RE SAYING?" Leon tried to scream some sense into him.

"39…38…"

"SHUT UP!" Leon told it. Then his rage died down when he realized he was talking to a machine. "OOOH….NEVER MIND." He looked around desperately, trying to find an alternative. Then, with a painfully resigned look, he rummaged through his coat. "Damn…this is gonna hurt…"

Snick!

He took out his switchblade and plunged it into Wolf's shoulder.

"OOOOOUUUUCHHH!" Wolf howled, the fur on his face and tail bristling.

"Sorry!" Leon said in a pained voice. "Oh damn…this isn't going to work…."

"36….35…34…."

Leon backed up and started to pace madly. He kept on looking painfully at Wolf and then away, as if trying to come to a decision that he knew he'd regret.

Then, as if triggered by some insane thought or emotion…

…Leon pushed him against the wall, balled his fists, and started punching him.

SLAM! WHAP!

Wolf attempted to block the punches in confusion. "GAH! ARGH-what the hell's wrong with you?"

"HOLD STILL!" Leon yelled. He wasn't being merciless at all-he was beating Wolf like a sack of meat. He may have seemed better with a knife, but his punches were extremely hard and painful.

"OW!" Wolf yelled. "WILL YOU-just stop? THIS ISN'T HELPING!"

"32…31…"

"You're right!" Leon stopped punching Wolf automatically, and took off in the opposite direction.

Wolf sat down, rubbing the bruises on his body, both angry and confused.

Leon looked around. "I need something heavier…"

Wolf's ears shot up. "Something-what? What's gotten into y-?"

Leon looked around, and then grabbed a vase filled with orange-flecked lavender colored Eldardian Malaticasia Lilies, dumped the flowers out, and ran back.

Wolf looked up, eyes widening. "What're yo-?"

SMAAASH!

Before he had time to yell (or curse), Leon swung the vase onto Wolf's head, the thick and rigid, rock-like shards ramming into his skull, almost making his body swing backwards in nerve reaction.

An intense anchor of heavy pain began to weigh Wolf's consciousness down. His sight became blurry, and his reflexes became sleepy enough to make his collapsing on the floor seem like nothing.

The last thing he heard before getting lost in the thoughtless waves of unconsciousness was the clattering of shards near his feet, and Leon's voice.

"Sorry about this…but you'll thank me later…."

...

…..

What seems like a short time later for Wolf (but was really about 2 hours later)…

The foggy shapes came into view and lobbed together to form recognizable objects.

Wolf's head felt like a sack of bricks. His shoulder ached with a feeling similar to the aftermath of having a hive of bees sting him repeatedly in the same, swollen spot.

"Ugh…"

Leon, who was sitting on the stool nearby, removing blood-flecked rubber gloves and setting them down on the table near a tray of scissors, Healing Kit, and a blood-stained switch blade.

He looked up in relief. "Good…you're awake…"

"Ahh…" Wolf rubbed his sore head. "What….what happened…?"

"I hit you," Leon said as-a-matter-of-factly. "With a vase. It was the heaviest thing I could find in the room, so I…um, put you to sleep for a while. I only had a matter of seconds to get the chip out."

Wolf jolted forward, the sore, tired feeling shaking off instantly. "The chip! Is it…?" He looked down with a wince at his bandaged up shoulder.

"I got it out….just at the nick of time, too….it was playing that Operation game, only the patient was going to explode. But it was easy to spot once I dug deeper. It shut off automatically when I took it out…it must only be active while it's under your skin."

Wolf looked around. "So….where is it?"

Leon's face hardened. "Gone. I threw it into the garbage chute. It's lost in space now…and good riddance."

Wolf sat back and took a deep breath. "Haaah…thanks…" He glanced at his messily bandaged shoulder. "Did you, uh…patch me up, too?"

Leon smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I ran down to the Passenger Infirmary when I got the chip out. It would've been better if we'd just taken you there, but….well, that would've raised some questions about who you are….and why there's a chip in you."

"So I guess that's four I owe you, now." Wolf sat back guiltily. "Getting me through that crowd of corpses…helping me out of the lava mess….patching me up…and now this….I wish I could make it up…"

"Hey, hey!" Leon threw his hands in the air. "What're you keeping count for? We're a Team! It's part of the allegiance….I'm your Right Wing Man, remember? Besides…I'll save your life a million times to make up getting me out of Pigma's ass."

Wolf smiled. "Yeah…I guess. Five years in prison must be a vacation next to five years trailing after that lard sack."

"And anyway," Leon continued. "I've been in worse situations than this. Like the time…"

He trailed off, as if he had too much about something.

Wolf sat up. "What?"

"Nothing." Leon turned away, but Wolf caught a glint of pain in his eyes before he wiped his expression clean. "Never mind…"

Before Wolf could dwell on this, a sudden booming voice almost made him jump out of his fur.

"Good evening, Passengers, this is your Lead Pilot up in the Command Deck…we're just passing Aquas at the moment, so feel free to check out the view in orbit from our observation deck."

Wolf glanced irritably from the TeleComm. Loudspeaker above the door. "Seriously? The whole point of us having rooms on a passenger ship is to give us privacy!"

Leon rolled his eyes. "Quit complaining, this was the best Transport I could find…"

Wolf didn't remember much about who was driving or who were the other passengers. "Care to enlighten me on the people in command of this ship?"

Leon got up from his chair and stretched, arcing his body in a curved lizard-like way. "Let's go to the Observation Deck and I'll tell you." He walked over to the door and hit the switch.

Sh-thunk!

The slide door opened, and Leon stood near the entrance, out to the ship's hallway.

"Come on! Stretching those wounds will do you good. They'll get used to movement a little easier….besides," His nose wrinkled. "Healing wounds stink up a room really easily… I've already spent five years with one smelly person, I'd prefer not to share a room with one."

Wolf's ears flattened in annoyance. "I don't smell!"

"No, you don't," Leon assured him, but before he turned, Wolf saw his eyes become small and sarcastic like they did when he was laughing quietly about a private joke. "Most of the time."

Wolf rolled his eyes.

Yeah… Things are definitely back to normal again.

It's like I didn't even leave.

Observatory Deck

Wolf and Leon walked over to the platform that looked over the massive window of the ship, gazing into the stars.

The deck was packed with people: dogs, felines, frogs, lizards, leopards, cheetahs, typical species. Some wore old uniforms that looked pretty recent to Wolf, since the only uniforms he was used to were the ones in the Lylat Wars. Others looked like grizzled, retired pilots, conversing with each other.

A few wore the trademark Mystarr Trading scarves around their necks. Space merchants, Wolf thought.

But the majority of the people on deck looked like families: middle-aged parents, hunched elders, young couples, and children of every age, playing and chasing each other, or being scolded by their parents.

Just normal people….

…which is why Wolf felt out of place.

He shuffled uncomfortably. "Um…Do you really think it's a good idea to be up here? You know…among….these people?"

Leon walked around casually. "Relax, Wolf. No one's gonna arrest you."

This both relieved Wolf and filled him with uneasiness. "Why not? Don't they recognize us?"

"No….they've never seen us before….they don't know who we are….or what Star Wolf really looked like. We don't exist, remember?"

Wolf's ears drooped in sad realization. "Oh yeah….right."

He looked down sullenly, remembering what Leon had told him.

"Once the rumor had spread around the Lylat System of you being dead, years of telling and retelling put us outside of Lylat's timeline. In short….you're nothing but a myth, now. We're nothing but tales told to keep young children awake before bed. No one knows about us anymore."

Wolf looked sullenly at a crowd of Cornerian-looking people conversing nearby.

If they knew who I was, they'd all get terrified…

Hell….I'd take that over everyone forgetting about me…

He closed his eyes.

Was he really just a myth, now?

Was Star Wolf really something no one believed in anymore?

I'm not famous….

I'm not even infamous…

I'm nobody….

He sighed.

Leon nudged him. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Wolf looked at him. "It's just….I can't believe it. I broke out of prison, so I could get my honor back, my freedom….but, that also meant getting my notoriety back too….and now this? No one knows who we are? What we were, during the Lylat Wars?"

Leon's eyes became sad. "Maybe it's better that way, Wolf."

Wolf sat up in shock. "Better? What's better? Walking around like strangers, when people should know who we are?"

"It isn't like the old times, Wolf," Leon said gloomily. "The galaxy's changed….along with the people in it….look." He pointed at a nearby family.

Now that Wolf was closer, he noticed some features he hadn't noticed before. Like the fact that the family, consisting of five echidnas, looked extremely miserable. Their clothes looked grubby and outdated, and the children were small, even for children, because of lack of food.

Jesus...That's…

No…

Wolf looked away.

It's none of my business….I shouldn't get involved…

But the more he looked around….the less individual everyone seemed to this family…

Practically everyone was coughing and miserable looking, with ragged clothes and worn-out expressions….

Everyone's like this?

Wolf turned to Leon. "What….happened to them?"

Leon shrugged indifferently. "That's the way people look, these days, Wolf. They're refugees."

"Refugees? But, we aren't in a war…"

"People don't have to be in a war to search for a better life, Wolf," Leon said. "Look around….this is Lylat…and too be honest, these are some of the luckier upper-class people."

Wolf looked at the wretched crowd of people "What's the difference between this and the normal people?"

"They made it on a ship. That's pretty much the only sense of hope they've got left….to pack their things and make a living somewhere else."

"Why don't they just take normal transport?"

"Taxes shook everyone's incomes until there was practically nothing. Transport across the galaxy became expensive….and more of a privilege. That's why these people snuck onto this ship. It's being driven by mercenaries."

Wolf's face lit up with interest. "Mercenaries? Like-"

"No, not criminals like you and me," Leon said regretfully. "Just Cornerians turned outlaws…not professionals from the old days. They're not much, but they're the only people outside the stinking government that are good with a blaster."

"Oh," Wolf sunk back, crestfallen. "So these people…" he glanced around again. "They're travelling….illegally?"

"What choice do they have?" Leon said, like it was completely obvious. "Becoming illegal aliens is better than living like they were before…besides," His eyes flickered with fear. "If the government finds them, then there's gonna be a lot more than stars littering the galaxy."

"But….the government wouldn't punish people like them too harshly…would they?"

"Wolf, remember that battleground in Area 6? That's how the Cornerian Government deals with any criminals. What do you think they do to anyone else who breaks the law?"

Wolf was silent. Leon was right…

He remembered some of the people he saw locked up in Denique Fatum…the innocents, just civilians….normal people, who didn't look like they should be in prison at all….

"I'm sorry about all this, Wolf," Leon lowered his head, as if everything they were talking about was his fault.

"No…there's nothing to regret," Wolf cleared his throat, trying to sound more confident. "This just…puts me a little off track, that's all."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

They turned and walked back towards their quarters.

"So what do you think we should do now?"

"I'm not sure," Wolf's eyebrows furrowed. "We…we're this far out in the galaxy, with it all in front of us, but….I feel more secluded than ever…like I'm in a cage again. I was hoping that we could get lost for while until this all settled, but that won't happen if the situation's the same everywhere. I just wish…." Then he stopped.

Leon cocked his head. "What?"

Wolf looked up, his eyes torn with heated frustration. "I wish there was something we could do! This just isn't right! I mean….how could this even happen? It's not supposed to be this way….there's always a balance of things. Justice and crime are supposed to coexist….neither can exist without the other…and neither side is supposed to be dominant! It's not natural….that's why the galaxy is like...like this!" He kicked his foot at a nearby wall. "I mean, how could it have come to this? Where there's profit and government, there's also supposed to be crime and survival! It doesn't make sense that one force reigns supreme, and it's a government of a power-hungry pricks! Without injustice, there is no justice! That's why things are like this….the flow has stopped….the balance has toppled…." He sighed. "And we can't do anything."

Leon folded his arms. "If only we knew who was behind all this…."

"Do you have any idea who?" Wolf looked at him.

"No….not a clue…" Leon rubbed his three fingers on his forehead. "I mean….Corneria has the power. That much is certain… their government is the one holding the galaxy in its grasp. But…I don't think it's them. Cornerians can be annoying shitbags, but even they're not bad enough to control everything. There has to be some kind of puppet master at hand. Someone holding the strings…."

Wolf stopped. "Wait….earlier, you said that the Cornerian Government gained power by scaring the rest of the planetary governments with a threat…a weapon of some kind. Any idea what that might be?"

"No…" Leon's electric blue eyes traveled around the room in thought. "I'd have heard of something that big… but what could be deadly enough to scare the rest of the galaxy into making Corneria the lead power? It'd have to be something as bad as something Andross could come up with….or worse…"

Wolf sat back. "Well….if there's an enemy out there….who are we not to act?"

Leon looked up. "What?"

Wolf sighed. "I don't know…I mean…just think: if someone really is behind all this, then he could be fought. Someone could stand up to them."

Leon's eyebrows fell. "No, Wolf….I know where you're going with this-"

"Look, I know it sounds nuts, but-think about it: the government can't control everyone, right? There has to be some place in the galaxy where they don't have a lot of power…we could organize….rise against them…crime could return to the galaxy….injustice…freedom…."

"Oh come on, Wolf, that's impossible," Leon said skeptically. "That's treason…rebellion…"

"But when have we been strangers to rebellion, Leon?" Wolf said, eyebrows raised. "Remember what it was like to be enemies of Corneria? Remember defying the law, living by our own rules?"

"Yeah, but…" For a moment, Leon's face lit up hopefully. "No…we can't. There's just….no way. It's just us! Just the two of us! We can't make a difference!"

"I know, but we could spread, couldn't we? We could find people to join our cause! There has to be someone who can help us out…." Wolf was pacing around now, the anticipating excitement filling him up. "We can't be the only ones who want to make to take these people down! The entire galaxy isn't just going to sit around while the government's making everybody's lives hell…just think…we could spread our cause... get people to join us….break the rules, rush against the oppressing…and who knows? Maybe in a few years…with all the crime spreading across the galaxy, the government will have its hands full again! The galaxy will be in balance again! We can change the tide…get things back to normal! We could survive again…be on the top! Be free!"

Leon looked at Wolf sadly. "Look, it sounds great, but….I don't know. It won't be that easy…it never is…" He looked down glumly.

"But we have to at least try!" Wolf insisted.

"Wolf, come on!" Leon stood up, trying to knock some sense into him. "I know it won't be that easy, and you do too! It's not like we have people to ally with, we're all alone! We can't just turn the tide of things with some blaster bolts and Smart Bombs! It would take an army to….no, half the galaxy to make crime return to the galaxy again. There isn't anyone who's gonna help us…. We're on our own! We're the last mercenaries from the old times, Wolf! There isn't anyone out there that's like us….and besides….we're Star Wolf! How many people are going to even be happy to see our faces even if they do recognize us?"

Wolf said nothing.

Leon was right…..he was practical, but he was right.

There was no way…

Wolf looked down sadly. "You're right…it's stupid….it….it would never work."

Leon, realizing how discouraged he'd made Wolf feel, put a hand on his shoulder. "Look, Wolf…I'm sorry to break the facts to you, but…that's just the way things are. I wish it was like in the old days, but…."

"No, you're right… it's just…" Wolf looked back in the direction of the Observatory Deck. "I've been tried and sentenced to death as Corneria's Most Wanted….twice. And even I don't think this is right…"

Leon sighed. "Me neither, Wolf…."

They both walked towards their quarters drearily.

Leon nudged Wolf with a brave attempt for a smile. "Hey, cheer up, Wolf….things will be fine….one way or another. Besides… you could have way worse luck than you have now. You had to have your face reconstructed…. and you're not even grateful that you didn't end up with an ugly mug equivalent to Slippy's ass!"

Wolf laughed, despite his lack of hope. "Haha, yeah, it could be worse."

"Don't worry about how things will turn out…we'll be on Easy Sector in no time, just like you said! You know… nice girls, booze…the works!"

Wolf smiled. "Yeah, we will. If Falco hasn't made them go bad first."

Leon raised his eyebrows. "What, the booze?"

"No, the girls."

They both laughed.

Shh-thunk!

Wolf walked over to his bunk and stretched his arms.

"By the way, Wolf…" Leon set his jacket on a chair. "I've been wondering for a while, now…"

Wolf set his Claw and blaster on the table with the medical tools. "What?"

"Well….you know how your face got reconstructed, right? Well…the thing is…you…you don't look like you've gotten any older."

Wolf turned around "What do you mean?"

"Well, for instance-look at my face. It's been five years-I mean I haven't gotten any wrinkles, or anything, but it shows, right?"

Wolf looked hard at Leon's face. He looked the same…but he still wasn't that teenaged pilot he remembered from the Lylat Wars…he was more of an adult, now… "Yeah…"

"Well, it isn't the same for you…I don't know why, but it looks like you haven't gotten more than two or three years older. How old are you now?"

"Well….it's been five years…so that's….24."

"Yeah, same with me, except you look like you're 21 or something…"

"What? No….that's…" Wolf walked over to the mirror. Then he realized what Leon meant. "Wait….you're right…" He touched his face. "Huh. Must be a side effect of the surgery…"

"What, this?" Leon cocked his head.

"No…I mean….when my face was healed, they put a mask-thing on me….some kind of machinery that acted like a constant set of bandages….and I didn't get it off until I broke out…which was five years later…"

"So you're saying…that this thing they put on you did some kind of damage?"

"I don't think so…" Wolf cocked his head and examined his cheek structure. "I guess…. The healing underneath the mask-thing must've prevented it from changing after all those years…I remember they took it off to do a check once in a while, but that was only annually…only then would my face get exposed to air again….so the lack of exposure after years of being in the mask….it must've knocked a few years off my face…"

"So…" Leon looked to the ceiling, trying to put the pieces together. "No matter how old you get….you're gonna look three years younger?"

They looked at each other.

"I guess that's a good thing." Leon said with a grin. "Now the ladies are gonna be all over you."

"Oh, be quiet," Wolf snapped. "It only matters if I look older than Fox. If I looked younger than him, that would be really weird."

Leon nodded. "Yeah…imagine being stuck as the younger rival of an annoying preachy egomaniac for the rest of your life. That would really suck."

Wolf laughed. "What about you? What if you got stuck looking younger than Falco?"

Leon's eyes became dead serious. "Hey, no matter how old I get, I'll always be more mature than that feathered-ass annoying bird."

Wolf chuckled and emptied the pockets of his overcoat. A plasteel container pouch of his old badges and trinkets, $400 in Lylatines,and a Cornerian CRUNCH bar wrapper fell onto his bunk.

Thunk!

Something small and metallic fell with the pile on the cloth blanket.

What the…

He picked it up. It was a small, rectangular object, made of gleaming silver metal, and a large gap in the center.

Oh yeah…the Cyberscope thing…

I completely forgot about it…

"Hey, Leon…you're the black market expert right?"

"The one and only."

"How's about a look at some merchandise I picked up?" Wolf held up the Scope.

Leon walked over and examined it. "Hmm…. Looks like a pilot's sight enhancer…"

Wolf handed it to him. "Take a closer look."

Leon turned it over in his hands, running his fingers down its steel surface. "Whoa… what is this thing?"

"Cyberscope," Wolf said, putting his hands in his pockets. "Some kind of military research experiment. I found it in a Security Vault back on the prison…."

"Wolf…do you know what this is?" Leon's ecstatic blue eyes were huge. "This is amazing….the cutting-edge design….the advanced structure….I've never seen anything of this depth before….this is way before our time, too….this metallic alloy should be water-proof, fire-proof….practically indestructible…I wonder what these buttons do…?" He fingered the sleek buttons on the side.

Wolf smiled. "Do you think one of its functions is a cup holder?"

Leon looked up, annoyed. "This isn't funny, Wolf… this is something else…if it really is this advanced….I wonder what else it does…too bad it doesn't have a lens…"

He looked around, and walked over to the glass of water. Picking it up, he smashed it against the table. Picking up one of the fatter shards, he layed the scope onto the table.

"Give me some light here, would ya?"

Wolf walked over and flicked on the energy lamp above the table.

"This may be a bit clumsy…" Leon placed the shard very delicately into the Scope's lens fixture. "But it'll give me an idea of what this thing's capable of…"

Click!

The shard fell into place, and Leon held it up. He fingered some of the buttons.

Whrr! Whiiir!

The scope made metallic whirring noises as the side of it sprouted a triangular closure attachment, making it look like a rectangular pentagon. The bottom sprouted out metallic overlays that overlapped each other, and the side-buttons edged out slightly.

Leon looked at Wolf, with a smile that was equivalent to a nine-year-old with a set of matches. "This thing is really cool."

Wolf, interested despite his lack of interest in technology, edged closer. "Try it out!"

Leon held the scope in front of his eye, and tapped the top button experimentally.

Nothing.

Wolf leaned forward. "Anything?"

"No…" Leon spoke with a little bit of disappointment in his voice. "Maybe if I tried the others…"

He tapped and held the other buttons one at a time, but only got the same result.

Leon lowered it. "Huh. I guess it just needs a better lens….one more durable…" He tapped the glass shard out of the fixture.

Wolf shrugged. "Maybe we should take to a tech specialist. If we do run into someone, I'm sure that they could give us the details on it…"

"Yeah…" Leon studied it with interest again, and held it out to Wolf.

Wolf shook his head. "No, you keep it."

Leon looked taken aback. "What?"

"The only reason I took it was because I thought you'd want it for something."

"No, no! Wolf, I can't do that…" Leon looked at the Scope doubtfully. "I mean…you found it…besides, I figure if it's good for anything, it'll benefit you more…you'll find some better uses for it…" He handed it to Wolf. "You take it."

"No, seriously, you should just keep it. You could sell it, or-" Wolf started.

"Nah, man," Leon insisted. "Honestly…that thing's way to advanced and priceless for the black market. You keep it."

Wolf glanced at the Scope, not knowing at all what someone like him could possibly do with machinery of this kind, and pocketed it. "Alright…whatever you say…"

He swept the other objects off his bunk and sat on it.

Leon lied back on the one on the opposite side of the room, and removed his boots. "Well, I don't know about you, but I could use some sleep. Running around with disembodied scientists and zombies has its perks, but it's still tiring."

Wolf, feeling wide awake, stretched his neck. "You sleep…I'll stay up. Tomorrow we need a fresh start. I need to…think about a few things."

Leon didn't need to oblige. He stretched and fell face-forward into his pillow.

Wolf folded his arms behind his head and rested it on a pillow, closing his eyes. He sat listening to the soft hum of the ship engines that gently vibrated the room.

"Hey, Wolf."

His purple eye opened partially. "Mmm?"

"You know what this galaxy really needs?"

Wolf opened his eye all the way with interest. Just moments ago, Leon had been wording out against his idea of change in the galaxy, so this might be worth hearing. "What?"

"Well…" He raised his head. "Remember during the Lylat Wars…how hopeless the rest of the galaxy was? I mean….they'd lost all hope of winning…most didn't think they'd endure the harsh times of the war…and….everyone was certain that the war would tear the galaxy apart, and that death was the only option in those desperate times….well, something made them change their minds. Something filled their hearts with hope again…and they saw victory flash before them…and they didn't feel discouraged anymore…"

Wolf's eyes traveled back to the wall skeptically…

I know exactly what he's talking about…

"Star Fox," He said distastefully. "That's what you're talking about…that's what filled them all up with hope."

"Look, I know how you feel about them…" Leon reasoned. "I hate them too. But like it or not….their presence…changed the galaxy, you know? The Cornerians were more confident that they'd win…and, they were more sure with Star Fox at their side that they'd keep going…they were inspired by them….because they knew how legendary they were, what they stood for….and they sort of acted as their guiding light down the road of victory…and it helped them become stronger…"

Ugh..

"Is this going somewhere, or are you gonna keep praising Star Fox to the point where I start puking?" Wolf asked, a little annoyed at the topic.

"Look, all I'm saying is that that's all it took for the galaxy to get on its feet again. It helped them get through…and that's what I think the galaxy really needs now. Hope. They need something equivalent…no, greater than Star Fox to act as a guide. Someone…someone legendary, and strong, a symbol of freedom…someone that could teach them to hold on in times like this….someone that they could tell stories about for generations. That would really set the stage for change…people would really start believing in change again."

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "Someone like…?"

Leon looked up like it was obvious. "Oh, come on, Wolf! You, of course!"

Wolf stared at him. "Wha—me? I…no, Leon, that's crazy. Of course not me…."

"But you're Star Wolf!" Leon rose, getting all excited. "You're a legend! And no one believes in you anymore, and-"

"Gee, thanks." Wolf scowled and lowered himself back down.

"No, let me finish…I mean, you're you! People used to say all kinds of things about you! That you were Star Fox's equal adversary, the only one capable of fighting Fox McCloud! You're a freaking legend, Wolf! Mercenaries back in the day would give up their ships just to see you! To watch you in action and see if all the things they've heard you do are all true!"

Wolf sat up. "Look, Leon, snap out of it. I'm no hero, and you know it. I could never be…I'm…I'm just not! I'm just-"

"Just a guy who's done it all! Who's fought a T-Rex! Who raided a Cornerian Military fleet in an hour, unscathed! Who led an army into the murkiest storm in Zoness outnumbered, ten to one! Who-"

"Listen!" Wolf said, exasperated. "Yeah, it sounds awesome when you say it like that, absolutely beast! Just one problem…those were mercenaries I inspired, okay? The 302nd told those stories and all that because I was like them…a criminal! But we're the last ones alive, now! And I'll tell you this much…no one is going to believe that we're who we say we are, and if they do, they won't join us! I was the most hated pilot on Corneria, and I doubt that's changed now! And what's more, there's no way I could inspire anyone! I'm not like Fox, Leon…I don't have the guts or the glory, and I've never been credited with anything noble or chivalrous! All I've ever done is fight to survive, never fight someone else's idea of justice! I'm no hero…I never was, and I never will be…there's nothing great about being one, and I wouldn't be able to be one even if I wanted to! So just drop it, alright?"

Leon shrank down sadly. "Oh…okay. Well, I'm just saying….never mind. You're right…"

Wolf realized how discouraging he must have sounded. "Look, it's not that it isn't a good idea, but…I'm me, remember? And anyway, who am I gonna inspire now? I'm in a galaxy full of hopeless people, without a single decent criminal within ten light-years of here. I'm nothing special…I'm not heroic, or awe-inspiring…I'm just…" He glanced at his hand. "…me."

Leon sat up. "That isn't true, Wolf. You're probably the most legendary pilot out there…you're the Leader of Star Wolf. You've done more things than most people come up with in whole fantasies. You're fearless, a born leader…I think a whole army of people would be honored to stand with you if they had the chance."

Wolf smiled. But he knew the last part was too good to be true. "Thanks, Leon. But I wouldn't be half as legendary if I didn't have the galaxy's greatest assassin at my side."

"Yeah, whatever…" Leon looked away to hide the pleasure lighting up his face. "…Just don't lose confidence so often. These little heart-to-hearts feel weird. I'm supposed to come off as cold-blooded to people, not as a freakin' therapist…" He shut his eyes.

Wolf leaned back. "Yeah well…good night…"

He sighed as he looked up against the ceiling, his eyelids slowly beckoning downwards with the seductive lure of slumber.

But the last thoughts on his mind were…

Tch…

Me….a hero…

What a joke…

Command Deck of the Cruiser (the Anatarres)

Even though things were nice and comfortable down in the passenger's quarters, the situation didn't really equal that of the ship's mercenaries, who were piloting and navigating the Anatarres.

"All I'm saying," a young Husky mercenary with a battered pilot's jacket said, looking laid-back in his control chair. "Is that making a few stops isn't the end of the galaxy. I mean…come on….would a side-trip to Papetoon be so much to ask for? We've been wandering around for months!"

"Maybe these trips would seem less boring if you didn't sit on your ass and actually do some work, Bernard," a rugged-looking Rottweiler in an armored flight-suit said in distaste, looking up from his Navigational Monitor Screen.

He glared at him. "Way to be a kill-joy, Ayxal. You're telling me you want to spend another day on this massive floating scrap-pile? I mean, at least they have Casinos down on Papetoon."

Ayxal turned around to face him. "Who are you trying to fool, man? You can't gamble to save yo mamma's life! You just wanna go down there to gawk at the showgirls!"

All the other mercenaries in the room laughed as Bernard's cheek-fur brightened.

"Quiet! All of you!" an older voice barked.

Everyone became silent instantly, as the Captain rose from his chair. He was a muscular, robust Doberman, in his late thirties, with an unshaven five o' clock shadow. His faded and wrinkled Cornerian Officer's uniform was strapped with a belt of plasma bolts for his blaster, and all of the badges had been torn out.

"This isn't some kind of Entertainment Cruiser. This is a serious mission. We're carrying at least fifteen-hundred passengers…all civilians, and its crucial we get them safely to their destination. We're all the hope they've got left, and if a Cornerian ship as much as suspects what we're doing, then it's the end for all of them! That's why we can't waste time thinking about ourselves," he eyed the Husky, Bernard, coldly. "Not if we don't want to be captured by any government officials."

Bernard looked down humbly. "I know….Captain Nelson. I'm sorry."

Nelson sighed wearily. "It's alright…just….plug in the destination into the ship's Navicomputer." He nodded assuringly. "We can relax once we're on course."

Everyone resumed their work on their panels without another word.

They all knew why they were here. Most of them didn't need a second reminder about the harsh times they were in. A lot of the men in the room were once Cornerian pilots or soldiers during the Lylat Wars, but had dropped out of the army and turned to mercenary work in the wake of the cruel and corrupt government. Nelson himself was decommissioned from the Katinese Defense Unit because he had turned from the current duties of the Army: to be cold and heartless.

So as outlaws, they had stolen a military privateering vessel, the Anatarres, and was providing the only escape for desperate refugees: cheap transport to get to a less oppressed planet…illegally, of course. That was all they could do to help this sorry galaxy in the times it was enduring…

Zeep! Zeep!

The Main Terminal flashed as Nelson's gaze shifted from the window display of stars whizzing by as they scoured space.

"What's up, now?" He said in confusion. "We can't be at our destination already…"

Bernard tapped at the touch-keyboard quizzically. "I'm picking up a signal on the radar…looks like another ship."

Nelson nodded. "That should be our contact….look sharp. I already contacted the Captain of that vessel a while ago…he's with us. He said he'd meet us here, with more passengers to board our ship, so expect a boarding shuttle."

Bernard groaned. "Great…as if we didn't have enough people taking up room on the ship already…"

"Well, at least they get to sleep." Ayxal rubbed his eyes drowsily. "We gotta stay up and pilot this thing. And I don't even remember the last time I had a Fortunan Frappachino…"

Fwooosh!

The Aantarres drifted farther, as the glowing sea of star-lit space began to slow down somewhat around them.

"Hey, is that it?"

Everyone's attention turned to the speaker, a Sheepdog, pointing at a white object in the distance.

Nelson squinted at it. "Should be…huh…."

"Something up, Captain?"

He blinked. "No…nothing. Tap into the comm.'s channel and await transmission." But as he turned back to the window, he felt something was wrong.

They grew closer and closer to the Cornerian Frigate in the distance, and the outlines of its large hull and sleek wings began to form.

Wait…

We didn't beam them any kind of message in the last few hours….

And yet they're stationed there….

They're supposed to be, of course….that was the plan…

I don't remember receiving any message of anxiety….we are pretty late….

The Sheepdog looked up from the flickering comm.'s screen. "Sir….we aren't receiving any transmissions."

Nelson glanced at him. "What? But we're practically in front of them…don't they know we're here?"

Ayxal cocked his head. "They should….unless their radar system had malfunctioned somehow…if it did, they'd definitely give us a heads up."

Nelson's gaze returned to the upcoming ship. "Send a reminder transmission via comm."

Bernard's fingers danced rapidly over his glowing touch-screen keyboard, the buttons flashing under his fingertips.

"Wait….there's no frequency."

Nelson whirled around. "What?"

He pointed at the screen. "We're not picking up any frequency on the comm. Network….no transmissions, no energy readings….nothing. It's almost like they aren't even there…"

"That's impossible…" Nelson insisted. "No readings of any kind? Something's wrong here…" He peered harder at the ship.

As they edged closer and closer, Nelson began to see it more clearly. There was something orange on the ship's flank and hulls….

Wait a minute….what's that….?

Then, something flew in front of the window, momentarily distracting him.

Wha-?

It was a small, glowing, ember-orange dot. Soon, it was followed by another, and then a larger group, until it was a colony of little orange specks.

Then Nelson realized what they were:

Sparks…

And they were coming from the ship's direction.

That orange on the opposite ship was fire.

Bernard's eyes widened. "Holy hell….it's on fire! That ship's burning!"

Everyone turned in shocked disbelief to share the Husky's gaze. He was right.

"God….it is burning!"

"But how? Did the engines blow out on them?"

"Wait a minute…are there people still on that thing?"

Nelson's eyes grew huge. The captain said that he was transporting more passengers….

And their ship's burning?

He began to act quickly. "Ayxal!" he turned to the Rottweiler, who snapped to attention. "Send an emergency transmission to that ship requesting status on crew and passengers! The rest of you, prepare the shuttles for boarding and rescue!"

Ayxal hooked on his headset and microphone. "Comm. Signal 31334560: This is the Cornerian Battle Cruiser BV-987, Armada-class Arrantes, requesting contact! Repeat, this is Arrantes, do you copy?"

He listened into the microphone. Then he looked up worriedly. "Sir, we aren't picking up any communication lines at all. What's more…there aren't any life readings."

Everyone rose from their chairs.

Nelson stared at the ship. "No one…..is alive aboard?"

"None, sir." Ayxal looked grave.

Bernard shivered. "So it's like a ghost ship….the entire crew and passengers…annihilated?"

The other mercenaries stared at each other.

"All of them dead…?"

"Impossible….what could have killed an entire ship's passengers and crew?"

"Well, they're dead…that doesn't necessarily mean that they were killed. It could have been…"

"An accident? Not likely…it's on fire. What could possibly have done that? We're in the middle of empty space…"

"That's enough!" Nelson's voice rose in an attempt to take charge, but even he getting nervous. "This isn't the time to…"

WHRRR!

Everyone's attention drew to the window, as they passed the ship's massive form.

With a better view, the damage looked much more distinguishable. It was without a doubt: something had inflicted intentional damage on the ship. The ship itself was practically falling apart, breaking into flaming chunks of debris with floating fragments of charcoal and steel wafting off of it. Valley-sized scorch marks were embedded into the once-sleek hull, along with giant scorched dents. Some portions of the ship, or at least the portions that were still intact, were sizzling with blue electricity, as the back of the ship opened like a gaping mouth, exposing its inner engines surrounding the energy-protected proton core.

Even Ayxal was stunned. "Good….God…" He rose from his chair, followed by everyone else.

Bernard pressed his hands against the window. "Look at the size of those dents….even turbo-laser cannons can't do that kind of damage to a ship of that size….what the hell did this? Cornerian Warbirds?"

"No…" Nelson said, gazing at what was left of the ship. "Something bigger…"

Everyone turned to him, shocked.

He turned to them, a sudden, determined look on his face. "We need to turn this ship around."

A Dachshund rose. "Turn it around? But sir-"

"Listen to me, all of you!" Nelson commanded, sounding both angry and worried. "There's only one explanation for this….that ship didn't run afoul of some galactic mishap. Someone knows we're here…and they knew we would come. That's why they took care of this ship first….it was a trap."

The Sheepdog that had spoken before looked around nervously. "So…where did they go…?"

"My guess…." Nelson's face became grim. "That they're waiting for us….like hungry Bacoon sitting for its prey…..and that's why we have no time to lose. We can't alert any of the passengers about this….the panic would bring this ship down from the inside. What we need to do now is to turn this ship back…we have to protect the passengers at all cost….we can only imagine what the people after us will do to them if they get a hold of them."

"Alright," Ayxal nodded, tapping into the communications. "I'll set the auto-lock on the passenger's quarters. They'll be safer that way….now all we need is-" He stopped. "Wait…." He pressed the headset harder against his ears. "What the-?"

Nelson turned to him. "What's the matter?"

"I'm picking something up….some kind of…gravitational distortion…."

Bernard cocked his head. "Supernova?"

"No….this is different….it's…hard to make out….it's like, riveting and expanding….I've never seen anything like it….it doesn't even have a proper energy source….it doesn't feel natural…"

Nelson's eyes dimmed, and paced back to his command panel. "It's probably nothing more than a neighboring nova signal…"

"I don't think so, Captain….I mean….a supernova, or any kind of astronomical phantasm….it isn't mobile…"

Nelson stopped in his tracks. "What?"

Ayxal looked up, his eyes huge. "This thing is moving. Traveling across star fields at increasing light year speed…"

Nelson's blood turned cold.

A flaming shipwreck…

A trap set up like this…

A gravitational distortion….that was moving rapidly toward them….

There was only one explanation. The only horrible cause for all this….that he had heard about in several haunting stories across the galaxy…and witnessed himself….

He knew exactly who was behind this…his worst fears had been realized.

"Turn this ship around."

Bernard looked up. "Sir?"

"Turn it around now!" Nelson shouted. "QUICKLY! Do it, if you value your lives!"

Bernard fearfully jabbed his fingers at the buttons, trying to get a signal, while everyone else at their station worked frantically, trying to maneuver the ship in time-

!

Everyone's eyes turned to the window, only to be practically blinded by the incoming light.

Before the moment had happened, all the stars began to hum, almost glowing brighter with a hellish glow. And then, almost out of nowhere, melting out of the black of space, came a giant vortex of collapsing energy. A searing bolt of violet light struck the dark pit of space, and the stars themselves almost parted as a dark black-hole-like gap ripped through the energy field, bordered with intense strands of wicked black and purple lightning. The lightning began to twist and coil around the black gap, like giant intergalactic snakes around a massive, black mouth, some jagged strands piercing from the top and bottom like teeth. The hole began to expand, its lighting glowing brighter and crackling even more fiercely.

Then, a huge dark shape seemed to tear straight out of it, sending out a shockwave of impact along with sizzle of more lightning, as if emerging from a galactic maelstrom. As the huge dark shape emerged, it seemed to emit a vibrating and loud noise, like a giant roar or moan, that shook the Anatarres as it proceeded out. And with a giant shudder, the giant tidal wave of hellish energy began to curl up, its giant lightning bolts curling up like giant, long fingers. The middle of the dark pit of endless emptiness began to glow with the same eerie aura that it arrived with, shining and spiraling with its chords of black energy, encasing all light within its grasp, until…

It was gone. There was nothing there, but their own ship, drifting onwards. The stars drifted by as they always did, and the usual silence of space resumed, as if nothing had taken place.

But there was no such reaction aboard the Anatarres.

Everyone began whispering fearful murmurs amongst themselves.

"What the hell was that?"

"No idea…it looked like a hurricane…in space!"

"Naw, man I've seen a freakin' hurricane….it don't look like that!"

"Well, what was it then?"

"It looked like something came out of it…"

"Like a ship, coming out of a Warp Zone? Not likely…it doesn't have that kind of transmission signature…"

"It didn't look like a Gate Transmission either….that thing's green…and it doesn't do all that…energy stuff…"

"Yeah, and did you hear that noise? It was moaning…"

Everyone turned to the Captain, who was still remaining silent.

"Sir?"

Nelson's eyes were still fixed on the spot where the giant vortex had erupted from.

"It isn't over yet."

They all stared at him. "What?"

"Whoever came out of that thing is still here…"

All of the mercenaries looked at each other. "You mean….a ship?"

Nelson's eyes focused on the spot harder. "Yes…we may not see anything now…but that doesn't mean that they're not out here…"

"So…you know who's on it?"

"Let's just hope that I'm wrong…." He turned to them instantly. "We have to get this ship out of here. NOW!"

As everyone scrambled for their controls again, he looked back into the sea of stars.

One thing was certain…

They weren't alone in this desolate area of space anymore.

Passenger Quarters, 300 decks below…

The huge fusion sound made Wolf's eyes shoot open. He sat up in the dark on to of his bed, reaching for the blaster under his pillow, and cocking it.

Click.

He looked outside the window. But there was nothing out of the ordinary…nothing but some stars floating by…

But Wolf was no fool. Months of sleeping aboard gunships and frigates during the Lylat Wars and hearing these kinds of noises only meant one thing: a) That they'd crashed into something big, or b) They had been shot at by something big.

Either way, it didn't sound good.

Pulling on his black overcoat, he walked over and nudged Leon. "Hey!"

Leon muttered something about marijuana and rolled over.

Wolf was starting to get impatient. "Wake up, lazyscales." He snatched his pillow and swatted him with it.

"Oomphfffshrmph!"

A muffled grunt came from under the pillow. Leon looked up, blinking his electric-blue eyes drowsily. "What the hell?" he said in an irritated voice. "You want a pillow-fight at four in the morning?"

Wolf tossed his pillow aside and pointed his blaster at the ceiling. "Look, did you just hear that noise?"

Leon sat up confusedly. "What noise?"

"That exploding sound." Wolf's eye darted outside. "It sounded big…and destructive. Like a supernova."

Leon stifled a yawn. "We're not far enough into space for something like that…it's probably nothing."

"I don't know…I'll just check to see what's going on." Wolf walked over to the door and pressed the switch.

CLUNK.

The door didn't budge.

He pressed the button repeatedly. What?

Tack! Tack!

His finger jabbed impatiently at the switch, but the door wouldn't open.

"The door's locked itself."

Leon sat up. "What?"

"Look!" Wolf pressed the button, and looked at Leon in confusion.

Leon walked over. "Huh…these doors are automatic sliders….they're only supposed to auto-lock when there's an emergency…" He glanced at Wolf uneasily. "It may have something to do with your 'noise'."

Wolf clenched his fist around his blaster.

Something's going on…

Have we been found already...?

For a scary moment, Wolf thought about the possibility of the Cornerian Army finding them all of a sudden, catching him and Leon…

They would be tried…and imprisoned…

In prison…again…

No…

He shook the thought out of his head.

I've put too much blood and sweat escaping one hell-hole…

I'm not gonna do it again!

"Well, it can't be just our door," Leon said, as he fished his switch-blade out of his jacket, which hung on a chair. "These sliders usually lock simultaneously…which means everybody on this ship is locked in…"

SLAM!

Wolf kicked the door so hard that it ripped off of its hinges and clanked with a thud into the hallway.

"Not anymore. Come on!" Wolf cocked his blaster and ran down the hallway.

As they both charged down the hall, Leon shifted his knife under his bottom-hand grip around his blaster. "Where are we going? Escape pods?"

"No. If these are Cornerians, then they'll be able to pick off escape pods and lure them in easily. Besides, once these civilians get out of their rooms, which they will, they'll head for the pods too, all of them….like people heading to the life-boats of a sinking ship."

"So then where do we go?"

Wolf slid to a stop, his back to a cornered wall. "There should be a hangar bay at the bottom of this cruiser…we should be able to find a ship there."

Leon sighed. "We just keep changing ships to fit the occasion, huh? I wish we still had the Wolfens."

Wolf's mind became sad as he remembered his old ship. "Yeah…I could use some time in the cockpit right about now…"

Meanwhile, at the Command Deck…

"All Deck Commanders! Proceed with maneuvering to stern side! Ayxal, plug in emergency transmission to all available frequencies! We're gonna need all the help we can get…Bernard, set the radar to Energy Seeking Mode. If you pick up signs of a ship or any kind of spacecraft, report it immediately!"

Bernard furrowed his eyebrows. "But sir…there's nothing out there…."

Nelson nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes…I know we don't see anything yet, but that doesn't mean that they aren't out th-"

"No, sir, I mean there's nothing showing up."

"What?"

Bernard pointed at his screen. "Nothing, sir. No life-signs or fuel signatures of any kind."

Nelson looked at the Husky with disbelief. "That's impossible…no ship that large could be able to hide under a cloaking device, not with the scans capable on this ship…"

"That's not all sir…" The worried look started to grow in Benard's eyes. "I'm not picking up anything else, either…"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there's nothing being picked up on the radar…no star frequencies, no typical lack of oxygen…not even our ship's sensory signature! It's like…we aren't even in space! Like we aren't even here!"

"It must be malfunctioning…" Nelson reasoned. "The stars and lack of oxygen is easy to see even without a radar…and our signature should show up. Are you sure it's even on radar function?"

Ayxal looked up from his screen. "Bernard isn't the only one who's having weird readings…look at this! No communication signals in any direction!"

HMMMMMM!

Suddenly, the entire deck started to vibrate, as the keyboard panels and screens began to shake under the mercenaries' hands. Everyone shouted startled yells as one by one, all screens, flashing buttons, and indicator lights on every table began to dim and shut off.

"What's happening? Are we losing power?"

"The controls! The shields! Everything's shutting off!"

"Something's making this ship malfunction!"

Nelson grabbed at the comm. "Mayday! Mayday! This is Anatarres, requesting emergency procedure!"

KRRRRRSSSSHHHHZZZZZ!

The lights in the entire deck shut off, and the mercenaries were standing in the dark, looking around in fear.

Nelson dropped the silent comm. "Somebody, get a light!"

There was an echoing bump as Ayxal bumped his head under a table as he reached for the Emergency Supplies.

"Ouch! Gaagh…goddamn it…"

Klikkr!

A clear stream of light glowed from under the table, and Ayxal emerged from under the table, his face glowing from the Illumitorch cylinder's light.

Nelson took the light. "Thanks, Ayxal…alright, men! Remain at your stations this ship is on emergency autopilot, otherwise we wouldn't still be flying….but we've also stopped. I don't know what's caused this power drain, but we need to act quickly. Hopefully, with most of our passengers being asleep, none of them will notice the power shortage. What we need to do now is try to plug at all computers and terminals to make sure we don't miss any opportunities to get the power online."

"Captain," A Retriever spoke up. "Shouldn't we prepare for some kind of emergency? What if that other ship you were talking about earlier is behind this?"

"They most definitely are," Nelson confirmed, with a cold look in his face. "There nearby…somewhere…but with all of our external lights off, we can't see an inch in front of this ship's front. We need to get the power back online…"

"Sir!" A Corgi waved in his direction. "My terminal's working!"

Nelson worked his way past the crowd of mercenaries and sat himself to the terminal, which glowed faintly in the dark.

"Thanks, Colin. Now… I think I can read some kind of signature on this thing…" His fingers dotted the keyboard rapidly. "If I can just…"

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Everyone's attention turned to the ceiling, hushed voices rising with startled murmurs. The entire room vibrated in unison with the rising rumble, as if some fissure buried deep below the ship had come alive and started to shift all of a sudden. There was a lurch, as if a giant finger was tipping the ship, ever so slighty. The mercenaries staggered and tumbled over each other. Then, as everyone regained footing, the rumbling came to an abrupt halt, and the room was stationary again.

"What was that?" a voice called out. "Did we hit something?"

Nelson's ears twitched as he glanced at the dark ceiling. "Wait a minute…I've felt that kind of vibration before…"

Ayxal glanced at him in confusion. "Sir?"

Nelson fixed his intent glare back at the blaring-in-the-darkness screen. "That kinds of tension….the only cause likely enough to cause that must have been some imbalance with gravity…that only happens when a starship comes to close to another starship….they're both carrying an energy shield, so the friction tightens whenever they come within a few kilometers of each other…" His eyes darted to the dark ceiling, which he illuminated with his light-source cylinder. "The ceiling wires and structure is still intact….so it must have had more impact on the outside…on the hull of the ship…"

Then, his eyes lit up. He went back to the terminal screen.

"What I need…is pair of eyes on the hull….hey, Bernard, are the built-in Security Drones on top of the ship still operational?"

Bernard shrugged. "Should be… they're fusing-powered, so they probably didn't black out with the rest of the ship."

"Good…I need a clear view on the top of the ship…"

He tapped more buttons, and the screen started to flicker.

The screen opened up into a dark display, and started to rivet in different directions according to Nelson's directional control on the touch-pad. This showed the view from the center-eye camera feature attached to the Drone. It was like his own personal mini-sub, in outer space.

But the view that the mercenaries got was anything but clear.

The surface of the ship was dark, and lightless, usually twinkling with the lights from the ship's windows or functional lights. But now, it was as dark and eerie as a starless night.

Nelson scanned the area around him. It wouldn't be smart to switch on the Drone's head-light. If there was a ship nearby, the light would serve as a perfect signal to blast them into space-adrift oblivion.

"That's odd…" He looked at the sky in confusion. "It's pitch-black….not a star in sight…"

It's almost like…a shadow passed over our ship….

The other mercenaries, apparently thinking the same thing, shifted uncomfortably.

"Hey…what's that thing?"

Breaking out of a trance of wandering eyes, Nelson's attention drew to where the mercenary next to him was pointing.

At the very far edge of the screen, he could just make out an object which appeared suspended in mid-air, in the dark. But the lack of light made it too vague to identify…

What the…?

Ayxal nodded towards the others assuringly. "Probably some discarded debris from the other shipwreck…nothing to worry about…"

"But objects like that float away eventually…look-" Nelson pointed at the dark object. "That one remains rooted in the same spot…"

Bernard shrugged. "Get a closer look."

Nelson thumbed forward on the Drone's camera control to zoom in on the dark object. But it was still too dark…

He needed some light right about now…

So he turned on the center-camera's headlight.

Flick!

"Aiiiiiigggghhh!"

Somebody made a noise that sounded like a combination of a gasp and a scream, as everybody's heart leapt in horror at what they saw.

It was a skull. Some kind of mammal's skull, grinning hellishly at them with typical Canidae fangs. It was bleached white and shone like an eerie light in the dark atmosphere from the light. It's dark, empty, lifeless eyes seemed to creep into the back of the minds of all who were present.

"Is that…?" Someone breathed in terror.

"There's no way…"

"Look…" Bernard pointed a shaky finger at some dots on the screen. "There are more of them…"

Nelson, amid in his own horror, turned the light around to expose more disembodied skulls, some yellowed or brown, as if they were only days old. They varied in species too. Some had long beaks, while others bore more of a reptilian resemblance. But there's was one thing they had in common….they all dangled horrifically from long, swaying, rusty chains, hooked into the top of each skull's cranium area, giving them the look of gruesome ornaments. The chains extended upwards and creeped into the darkness above, not showing completely where they were hanging from…

Everyone backed up in terror. What new, hell-forsaken danger had they come across?

What kind of sick creature would do something like this to any living thing?

Nelson shown the light around. These things aren't just floating around…

They're attached to something…

Then he shown it upward…

And this time, it was his heart that almost stopped.

Nelson's eyes widened in horrified disbelief. There was no way he could really be seeing this…his blood ran cold in ominous fear…

His hands gripped the controls so hard, that his veins began to line the surface of the back of them.

The only thing that could possibly have doomed…

Of all the things to have happened to them…

Of all the people to have found them…

His worst fears, that lingered like a nightmarish possibility in the back of his mind, had been confirmed.

"Oh my God…"

It turned out that the giant shadow that served as a starless sky, looming over them…

…was a ship.

No….not even that…

….just part of a ship….

The size alone made the strongest mercenaries in the room feel like helpless infants trapped in a fire…

The surface of the giant ship loomed like a huge, awakened beast, stretching for miles in every direction, blocking out any light of hope from the stars. The Great Fox itself would be a mere flea compared to this giant thing. Some of these mercenaries had seen entire cities smaller than this ship.

The ship was huge and black as obsidian, as if it had been forged in a lava-pit that could rival Solar itself. Each rivet and extension of technology was large enough to be a skyscraper, and the black steel surface seemed to engulf the ship below like a giant mouth. Each plate of metal that made up the ship's massive exterior was the size of battleship, and where there wasn't a gleaming window-light that lit up the rest of the ship's seemingly endless surface, there was a line of merciless Ion-Armored Turbolaser Cannons, capable of ripping whole ships apart. But there were so many… they seemed to dot the ship in lined rows. But what made them so terrifying was the fact that they were all shaped like huge spines with laser barrels. And with rows and rows of these jagged cannons, they gave the ship the ominous look of some spiney monster. In the wake of this giant, drifting vessel, the energy seemed to be sucked into its interior, making the atmosphere moan under the tension of this colossal monstrosity.

With the skulls dangling from chains on the bottom of this giant ship, it sent the clear and undeniable message of the height of mercy of the commander of the ship, if it was to chain the heads of his victims to the bottom of his ship.

The huge, valley-sized wings that stood attached to the sides of this dreaded ship were enormous, but their most obvious feature was their obvious burns and dents, not to mention the massive jagged chunks ripped out of them, giving them the Satanistic appearance of huge demonic wings.

But everyone's attention was focused on one terrible feature on this ship:

In the space where the ship's insignia would be, was neither the symbol of the Cornerian Army, or the flag of the now-lost Venomian Fleet. It didn't belong to any military organization, of any planet, of any army, or mercenary guild of any kind. And it definitely wasn't the red, winged fox insignia of Star Fox either.

It was a huge and ominous looking "C", only the concave side of the letter had three pointed spines jutting out of it, like vicious teeth. It was black and lined with gold, and inside the "C"'s gapped front, was a steel cross, embroidered with engravings and trappings, like those seen in a church. Vertically written down the cross was a message or motto of some kind, written in old Cornerian:

Judicium necessaria

Translated, it meant "Judgment is inevitable".

Everyone's terrified gazes were fixed on the insignia, which had undoubtedly confirmed their fates for good.

Bernard whimpered. "Please tell me….that isn't what I think it is…"

"It's over…" Nelson murmured in terror, his eyes fixed on the ship above. "They have found us…"

Meanwhile, back in the Passenger Deck

Wolf felt it too.

That sudden, drawing, cold incense of raw fear, tearing into his awakening instincts was rising.

It started with the echoing noise of the entire ship rumbling, as it creaked and groaned, as if under some kind of grueling pressure from the outside.

Leon looked at the ceiling, a cautious glint in his eyes. "What was that?"

Wolf's tall ears twitched at the recovery of the sound. "I don't know….we might have hit something."

"One more reason to get off this ship," Leon muttered. "Don't get me wrong, the rooms are nice and all, but it's not worth it if the scenery changes into a prison cell…"

Wolf grimaced uncomfortably. "Don't remind me. 5 years are enough for me… let's just keep going."

As they proceeded down the unlit corridor, Wolf was beginning to feel more and more anxious. If Leon was right (and he had an ominous anchoring feeling that he was) and they were the last mercenaries aboard this ship…

…not to mention the entire system…

…escaping wouldn't be easy as it used to be. Escaping the prison was one thing, because he managed to catch the entire island off guard with releasing the other prisoners.

There had to be survivors after that breakout…

No one remembers who I am…but I hope that there was not too much word out about my escape…

His eyes rose from the depths of thought to reality, as he spotted a huddled figure up ahead.

Skkthh!

Wolf's boots scraped against the smooth floor as he came to a halt.

Leon, catching Wolf's drift, stopped quietly, with his knife gripped in preparation for any entertainment.

But it was just cat-a cougar, sitting in a scrunched-up position on the ground, as if he was trying to maintain warmth through a blizzard. His teeth chattered, and his fur was spiked up and paranoid, as all cats do when they're terrified. His eyes were wide with horrified terror, clutching a small Cross on a chain. His glance darted around fearfully, and his whiskers twitched as his mouth whimpered some rushed and barely audible prayer.

Wolf pocketed his blaster. "Hey!"

The cougar fixed fear-struck gaze at Wolf for a moment, and then resumed his blank stare forward, like Wolf's appearance was perfectly normal.

Wolf sighed. Well, it's official…

Nobody remembers me…

That look of fear people get when they see me is gone…

He shuffled his feet. I kind of miss that…

But why is he even out here?

I thought all the passengers went to sleep….and even so…everyone's door got auto-locked….

..so, how'd he get out?

The cougar continued to murmur fearfully. "…and a loud voice from the throne….ring out this is God's dwelling among men….he shall dwell with them and they shall be his people…" The cougar swallowed. He shut his eyes and gripped his cross in fear, his voice shaking. "..and He shall be their God who is always with them."

Wolf glanced around awkwardly. "Um…hello?"

The cougar continued to talk to himself. "No use…no use….he can't hear me…"

Wolf knelt down. "How'd you get here?"

"I don't like flying…" The cougar opened his eyes in timid terror. "I never did…this is my first time…and I still didn't like it….but looking at the stars makes me feel a little better….so I went out to look at the stars, to ease my mind a little before I sleep….but the door to my room was locked from the outside….I couldn't get it open…." His voice began to tremble frantically. "And I began to wander the hallway….praying that the ship didn't go down….like that other one outside…"

"Other ship?" Wolf's attention became clear as he leaned forward. "What other ship?"

"Flames….up in flames…." The cougar shivered. "Blackened and dented….like a rotting corpse…adrift in space…it wasn't an accident…it got attacked….it was boarded….destroyed…blasted…to pieces…"

What ship is he talking about? A Cornerian ship?

"Blasted by what?" Wolf urged an answer out of him.

"They didn't stand a chance…no one stands a chance against…him…."

Wolf and Leon looked at each other, both sharing the same look.

"Andross?"

The cougar shook his head. "He isn't like anything the galaxy has ever seen...he's the reason the galaxy's like this…he made it cold, unbearable…he took over everything, like a massive shadow….he consumed everything…he killed off the mercenaries one by one…."

Wolf's expression froze with realization.

He must mean the one who put the galaxy in its state of misery…

The one who scared all the other planets into obeying Corneria…

The one with the weapon….

The one responsible for all this…

"Who is he?" Wolf said instantly. "Who? Tell me!"

"It wasn't always like this…" The cougar trailed off again, ignoring Wolf. "The galaxy was free once….it was flourishing, in the ashes of the War…things were going to be fine….freedom was going to be restored to Lylat again…but…" He shook in fear. "He came….him, and his armies…"

"Army? Whose army?" Wolf cut in sharply. "The Cornerian Army?"

"The peace, the hope….it all withered and died when he arrived….it burnt up and disintegrated into ash when he arrived in that horrible ship….he….he…"

Wolf shook the cougar by his shoulders. "Who? Tell me, who, God dammit!"

But the cougar stared past him, his eyes wild with insane fear.

Leon frowned. "Wolf…I think this guy's off his rocker…or just retarded...we should leave him alone…before he urinates or something…"

"He's a monster…he's the devil, I tell you….the devil himself, in flesh and blood…he's evil, murderous, cold…he doesn't care for anyone…he doesn't pity any living thing…he consumes all…he takes everything that life feeds on…his blood runs cold….cold as drifting ice from the deepest and darkest shadow of space…wherever he wanders , with his army at command….death is sure to follow. He's callous…heartless….soulless….he has no passion, or guilt for the horrible things he does…."

For a moment, even Wolf was a bit concerned. Just who was this guy?

"What…kind of things?"

"He commits unspeakable sins….he murders, twists, demolishes, obliterates, incinerates, destroys….anything. Everything….everything he sees as a sinner. He rules this galaxy like no other…whatever his will….whatever he wants….he always takes it in the end. He owns everyone's lives…all for the sake of power. He is the horrible shadow that controls the strings of the government….he controls the people that make the decisions….his will is unstoppable…and so is his mighty weapon. No one knows how he found it….or if it was he who forged it…the weapon….the symbol of his power….he burns all life with it and grinds the remains under his foot…there's no way that he's human…there's no way that he's from this world….he sees too much…he knows too much….he can do too much. He travels the galaxy in a massive ship…the biggest in the galaxy…bigger than the Great Fox…bigger than this ship…almost half as big as Corneria City. He destroys all who oppose him…in the most painful way possible….he subjects every victim to an endless array of torture and suffering and despair…and finally ends them." At this, the cougar shuddered. "He can destroy a man without taking a step forward…he's that powerful…and he never takes prisoners…only victims…and whoever he doesn't leave to rot…he hangs their heads from the bottom his ship…nothing….no one….there isn't a thing that exists that can stop him….he enforces the harsh and merciless laws….because…his horrible will means law. And his law….means death."

Wolf didn't know how much more he could hear about this person. "Look…who is the guy you're talking about? What is he?"

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

The cougar gasped and jolted his finger behind Wolf.

Wolf turned his head at the loud, ominous rumbling noise.

What the f-?

Outside the window, both Wolf and Leon were fixing their gaze on the massive shape that slunk over the starry sky like a shadow. As the star bits drifted by the surface of this massive thing…it seemed to send out an impact shockwave….that sounded like the combined pained and tortured moans of a thousand bodies being massacred alive. Both Star Wolf members looked on in shock as they made out the huge rivets and dents of metallic fixtures, the spiny and aligned rows of toothy laser-cannons, the hundreds of illuminating lights that served as observatory windows, and a huge name plastered on the side of the ship in red, which read: the Peacekeeper.

Wolf realized, with astonished and feverishly amazed disbelief, that this gargantuan thing….was a ship.

"No way…" Leon breathed, his eyes wide with incredulity.

"God damn…" Wolf said in a hushed voice. "It can't be….no ship with today's technology can be that size….and look at those guns….I've seen big cruisers with maybe a twenty or so of those…..and those were flagships….this thing is blazing with them…has to be at least half a million….can a ship like this even exist?"

"Well, it's either a big-ass ship," Leon cleared his throat. "Or some kind of spaceborne leviathan….either way, I don't wanna meet who…or what…is on that thing."

"It's him…" The cougar was trembling all over, his insane eyes growing huge with terror. "Him….he's found us! We're all doomed….he'll show no mercy on our souls…he'll kill us all….he'll destroy everything that breathes….he can't be stopped!"

Wolf drew his Claw. "Whoever he is…I'll find out just how terrifying he is…."

The cougar shook his head frantically. "You don't stand a chance against him! He can kill a hundred men without taking a step forward! You'll be dead before you hit the floor….if you're lucky. But if you're not…" His eyes bulged insanely. "…there'll be nothing left to find…"

Wolf sneered. "Tch…typical…a figure surrounded by impossible rumors and horrible stories….just like Andross. Those kind of people don't spread their names with deeds…just power and infamy. They're weaklings underneath….I've seen it all before…"

"Wait a minute…Wolf…." Leon spoke up in an unsteadily concerned voice. "I think we should listen to him…"

Eyebrows furrowed, he turned to him. "What's with you? Just a minute ago you said he was off his rocker!"

"I know…" Leon glanced at the paranoid cougar with somewhat of an amused look. "And I still think he is…but you've been in prison for five years. You've…you haven't really heard about what's going on, or who this guy might be….and I certainly don't know what's been going on lately…I was with Pigma on the far reaches of the Lylat System. But this guy….what if he's as bad as this person says? You don't know what he's capable of…"

Wolf glared at Leon. "What are you saying…?"

"I think…he might outmatch you, Wolf."

Wolf looked at him. "What, you think this guy could beat me? Leon…don't be ridiculous…Andross was one thing…he had Inner Power, of a sort….but this guy's just….a human. He can't be stronger than I am…"

"People can be strong without Inner Power, Wolf," Leon said. "I've seen it before….but anyway…you've always fought people you knew about. Soldiers, mercenaries, bounty hunters, pilots….but we know nothing about this guy….and my instincts are telling me that we shouldn't meet him yet…"

"Follow your instincts," Wolf repeated. Am I really hearing this? "Great. It was bad enough Fox always told me I was weak because I didn't follow all this James McCloud horseshit, and now you're on my case too?"

"Stop acting like an idiot for five minutes and just listen to me, okay!" Leon cut in angrily. "You're rushing to fight this guy. Rushing into battle like a hotheaded rookie is just about the worst mistake you can make on the battlefield. You've done it before. You rushed after Fox on Venom, with absolutely no hope of winning. And look where that got you!"

Wolf was at a loss for words. He hadn't thought about that…

He's right…

That's how this whole mess started…

Me jumping into situations that I knew I couldn't handle…

I let my emotions get the better of me…

And… he clutched his Claw. ..I almost lost Leon...I turned my back on him…

Because I was obsessed….with bloodlust….

…Like him….

"Okay…" Wolf said slowly. "You're right. Besides…." He turned to the cougar. "He mentioned an army…" He grimaced towards his bandages. "I'm not exactly in one-man-takes-down-a-whole-army condition right now."

Leon nodded with a small smile in the corner of his mouth. "You usually are. But now isn't the time…let's just focus on getting to a ship…By now, the other passengers will realize what's going on…and the panic will make it harder to escape…"

"He has sealed us in our own graves….his ship towers over us…like a coffin…"

Both Wolf and Leon glanced at the cougar. "What?"

The cougar's eyes were wide with madness, clutching his cross until his hands started to sweat. "We're all dead….he's taken us…."

Wolf's eyelids fell down in his usual factual, stubborn attitude. "It'll take more than pathetic attempts at stories to shake me. He's probably nothing I haven't fought before….and I'll face whoever he is eventually…"

Leon leaned near Wolf and spoke in the corner of his mouth. "What are we gonna do with this one?"

Wolf stood indifferently and resumed his pace down the hall. "Leave him. If he's smart, he'll make an attempt to escape." He looked at Leon. "But I don't think he's sane enough to realize when danger's approaching. Let's just go."

"You'll never face him alive…" The cougar moaned. "He's Death itself…wrapped in a web of shadows of corruption and deceit…..with empty eyes….like twin black holes….there's no light in them…they can only consume….they're pitiless and life-taking….just like him. And once Death is unleashed…it can't be stopped…"

Wolf paused.

Clrrk-kik!

He cocked his blaster and shifted it to his right hand, his Claw in the other.

"I've cheated Death before…" He continued to walk. "It's a challenge I'm used to…a trick I learned on countless battlegrounds…"

Leon shifted grimly. "Yeah, but it's not the Lylat Wars anymore…and I've got a feeling this guy can catch those kind of 'cheaters'…"

Meanwhile, on the Command Deck…

"Get to all assault stations! Half of you, prepare for escorting of passengers to all escape pods. We need to make sure all civilians are off this ship!"

"Hey, Captain…" Ayxal's eyes were locked on the now-blinking radar screen. "I'm picking up hostile detection on our ship…."

Nelson's eyes darted to the screen. "Where on the ship?"

"Everywhere…..look!" Ayxal pointed at the screen, as several dots appeared on impossible areas all over the cross-section ship display: in the hangars, in the passenger dock, in the engine room…

That can't be right… Nelson pondered in his head. We haven't received any Security Breaches since the power came back on…

But then how are they all over the ship…?

Then he looked up. "They must be using ships with cloaking devices to force their way through all the blast doors and hatches. They're boarding the ship!"

Bernard stood. "Alright! I'll take some men down to the armory and pull out some rifles. We'll rush all the entrances and-"

"No!" Nelson cut in urgently. "What are you crazy? You can't fight these people! None of you can!"

Everyone looked at the Captain in shock. Nelson, the hero of so many battles, in the army and outside the law, who had always seemed so tough and invincible against any threat… was telling them to retreat.

"But…Captain…" Bernard started. "We have to put up a fight of some kind. If we don't-"

"Are you so young and crazy that you're willing to throw your life away?" He grabbed the Husky by the shoulders. "If you value your lives you'll get off this ship before they board it! Don't you understand? Facing them means automatic death! He's on that ship!"

Everyone fell silent. Captain Nelson didn't have to go into detail about who 'he' was. They'd heard enough blood-chilling stories to be knowledgeable…

"Nelson…" Bernard wriggled out of his grasp. "I'm not going to let innocent people die at the hands of that murderer and his cronies…I'm putting up a fight! Even if the rest of you won't…."

Nelson looked at him painfully. "Bernard…"

"Look, Captain…" Ayxal stood and walked between them. "We need to put up with their forces while the passengers are getting away. If we flee with the rest of them…then there's no chance of escaping them."

The Doberman looked here and there, as if contemplating a difficult decision. "Fine, then…if that's the case, go into the armory and retrieve those weapons. If those bastards want a fight, then let's give it to'em!"

Everyone cheered and nodded approvingly, and leapt up from their seats, rushing in all directions.

Nelson's sharp-sprung orders rang above the fray:

"Get all the M-16's,FAL's, and AK blaster rifles and head to every door, exit, escape hatch and hole this ship has. All of you at the Homing Bay, strap into those Turrets and wait for my signal. Harker, round up a hundred of our men and start directing all passengers to all available escape pods. The rest of you, prepare for boarding of the ship!"

Door to the Central Passageway to Ship's Core

Clunk! Clunk!

Mercenaries dashed through the hallway, hauling long, battered blaster rifles and machine guns as they surrounded the door to the ship's entrance.

One gave finger-signals, and the others took a position around the giant steel door, weapons raised and their eyes fixed through the scopes at the door. Men in the back row held plasma grenades, fingering the spring-triggered laser rings at the top of each explosive. Two or three others flicked out Combat and Survival knives, or steel tomahawks.

Now, positioned around all sides of the door, all the mercenaries had to do was hold their breath as they waited for the enemy to make the first daring move….

Their confidence was unshakable at the time. They weren't afraid right now…nothing could scare them…not even the countless stories they'd heard about these people…

BBBBRRRRRRRMMM!

Everyone shifted uneasily as a low rumble echoed across the room. A few breathed heavily, and others cocked their weapons in somewhat cautious anticipation.

Still, there was no fear among them. They remained upright in bold perseverance at the door, weapons locked onto it.

Everyone in the room was thinking the same thing. They ought to be here by now…

BRZZZZZ!

And then, the lights went out. That's when everyone got nervous.

There were a few clunk!s in the room as a few of the mercenaries shuffled uncomfortably. The only light visible in the hallway was the blaring red alarm light above the door, and even that went on and off in an eerie fashion.

They all began to breathe heavily, and the lack of power fueling the ship's air synthesizers caused the room to be cold, and their breath to be white and wispy out of their mouths.

The mercenaries began to shiver, their senses becoming impaired with fear as it seemed to get darker and gloomier in the icy room. Any sudden sound….someone's boot clicking back….steady breathing…or the cock of their guns set them on edge and made their hearts jump.

The one closest to the door gulped, his eyes darting around nervously, the eerie silence making him fearful for sudden movement or actions. The guy behind him clutched his rifle in scared anticipation, a bead of sweat rolling down his face.

CLANK.

Everyone's hearts and minds jumped to attention at the sound of the noise. It sounded like it was coming from the other side of the door…

There were rapid click! sounds as everyone drew their blaster directions to the door, all of them fingering their the triggers for the moment when someone would burst through the door.

But nothing happened. No sound. No action. Nothing.

The gazes of everyone in the room shifted around uneasily. When was the attack going to happen?

CLANK.

The strongest man in the group, a Dane, clenched his blaster rifle's grip. The longer they all waited, the more fearful they became.

But where was that noise coming from?

The Dane listened hard. It was definitely echoing from a neighboring room. From beyond the door they were facing…

No…it sounded much closer…

But how was that possible? There wasn't anyone else in the room but the mercenaries…

CLANK.

That's when the Dane felt the vibration. He gripped his gun and looked around, but there was nothing there…and yet…it seemed so close…

He looked up. "Wh-?"

BAAAM!

Every mercenary in the room whirled around, blasters up, their fingers on the triggers, as the ceiling blasted open with dust and crumpling metal, spitting out cracks and twisted metal pipes and machinery from the drain and electricity outings. A large, dark shape slammed onto the dumbstruck mercenary under it, blurring over his wide-eyed expression of fixed fear and engulfing it, before crashing down and sending a vibrant shockwave of dust-clouds in all directions.

But when they saw the figure, with their own eyes, the last strand of courage that keeps a human being alive went out of their bodies.

The figure was standing in the heap of debris, its arms spread near the waist in the stand-still of rising, was tall and lean, dressed almost completely in black, giving it a shadowy and foreboding demeanor of secrecy and enforce. He was a gray-furred vermin of some kind, with black in the area around his eyes and face, like a natural face-mask. His ears poked out of the black thin-rimmed Fedora clamped on his head, its brim casting a shade of unidentification over his eyes, but his species was clear….

He was a weasel.

A long, sleek-cut black coat hung down almost two his feet, (with a dark tail peaking out the back), unbuttoned to expose the dark, buttoned-up pinstriped suit underneath. His hands were etched in grey gloves, braced near trouser-clamped legs over sleek black leather shoes

Excluding his gray tie, he bore no ornaments or decorations of any kind, save the small silver pendants on his sleeve-cuffs, tie, and high cuffs of his suit, all in the shape of the "C" and cross insignia seen on the Peacekeeper ship outside.

No one in the room had any doubts what this person was. His organization-generic clothes, and insignia all typical features described in every incident they had heard about defined him completely.

He was an Agent. One of his Agents.

The mercenaries gripped their rifles in terror, their eyes wide at the horrible Fury that had been sent to claim their souls. Cornerian Soldiers…Pilots…Venomians…

Anything…but this…

Then one soldier drew his gun. "OPEN FIRE!"

BRATTA-BRATTA!

A rapid stream of laser-blasts shot through the air in the direction of the Agent.

And then…

BAAAM!

BAAAAM!

Giant holes in the ceiling were crashed open as more dark shapes began to fly down from above, each leaving a glowing stream of light from the skylight up in the ceiling. The stood rooted in the spots, the dust caressing off their shoulders, before looking up.

Three more Agents had entered the room, all dressed in the identical black long-coat suit and hat dress as the first. They were also weasels, except unlike the first grey entry, these ranged from white to brown to darker grey.

"They've surrounded us! Kill'em!"
But before the mercenaries could even flinch, the Agents were on them. They moved with such speed and agility, that they were nothing but black blurs gliding across the room. Without even a weapon in their hands, the weasels smashed and paraded their fists and feet into the stomachs and faces of the still dumbstruck mercenaries. Every now and then, a skilled mercenary would counter their attacks with blocks of their rifle butts or knife blades, and attack back with vicious aggression….but every move, every action would be dodged aimlessly by the Agents, either stopping them before they even came in contact with them, or just killing them before they had time to move.

These weren't common soldiers. They were trained killers….assassins, professionals, not taking a single hit…

And they were just the henchmen.

One mercenary tried to fire his rifle straight into one's chest, but the Agent in front slickly moved to the side, just as the blazing barrel moved past him like a dodged trap. Then, he grabbed the mercenary by the face and plunged it into the wall…twice!

CRASH! CRASH!

Every new dent in the wall caused the wall to crack and blood ooze out of the hole made in it. Then the Agent jumped up and flung the brutally-crippled carcass at a neighboring mercenary.

A bold Mastiff charged with a snarl at the leading Agent (the one who had first arrived) with razor-edged Kukri knife, slashing and hacking fearlessly at him. The Agent moved back and ducked several times, quickly maneuvering.

The Mastiff growled in anger and drove his knife. "ARGH! Just die already, you son of a bitch!"

CLING!

The Mastiff's jaw dropped, and everyone else in the room shared the same shocked expression.

The knife quivered in the hand of the Mastiff, except the Agent was holding the blade's tip with only two fingers, just stopping it barely a few centimeters away from his naked eye. The Mastiff's hands shook and shivered, but the Agent's grip on the blade remained iron-willed and unmovable.

Then he spoke, in a low and quietly menacing voice. "Contemptible fool," he hissed in an almost amused tone. "You hopelessly attempt at protecting those illegal miscreants you've snuck on this ship using those pathetically feeble skills of yours…."

The Mastiff roared at the blood-boiling taunts and tried to wriggle his grip out of the pincer-like grasp of the Agent. But the weasel jerked the knife from his hands with catlike reflex and tossed the knife upwards, which shot like a bullet and embedded itself into the ceiling. CLANG!

The Agent swept his hand in front of the mercenary's face in a "halt" gesture.

Krr-SHIIING!

The next action happened so quickly that all who were watching barely had time to process the speed through blinking efforts. All they saw was the wicked glint of gleaming steel and the flutter of the Agent's black coat behind him.

The Mastiff's broadened eyes were fixed on the Agent with perplexed fear, as his mouth began to gush with blood. A two foot-long blade as thick and as sharp as a double-edged rapier was sprouted through his neck, its reddened point protruding from the back of his throat. The blade was coming out of the Agent's sleeve, like a hidden blade, emerging from the inside of his cuffs just below his wrist. The Agent's merciless stare didn't flinch at the blood gushing from the mercenary's mouth, raining down at his feet just inches from his slick black shoes.

"…when you can barely use them to save yourself," He finished. There was a sickening shriing! as the blade retracted from the back of the dog's neck, causing more blood to fly from the withdrawal, and drew like a measuring tape back into the sleeve. Before the body could fall at his feet, the Agent kicked it out of his way and into the wall, where it collapsed in a butchered heap.

Horrified gasps were released from each mercenary's mouth, as they looked from the gruesome body to the Agent himself, every one of them dumbfounded.

They were all thinking the same things: how the hell was this Agent carrying a hidden blade of that size in his sleeve? They had all heard of hidden blades and stuff like that before, but…two feet? And the way he had killed the mercenary…so quickly…so easily….who were these guys?

All of them gripped their weapons in terror and fearfully stepped back. Every fiber and instinct in their bodies was screaming for them to run away….but their feet weren't moving….

The other Agents shifted their stances, as if taking the gruesome kill as a signal to no longer hold back.

Like a horde of death angels, they swept forth and drew closer to their prey.

One Agent, a dark-furred weasel with pale blue eyes leapt at a mercenary, his coat flying behind him. The mercenary, a terrified Akita, raised his blaster rifle in self-defense and fired some desperate shots in an attempt to push him away.

But the Agent jumped into a mid-air somersault, arms spread.

SHA-SHING!

A blade, similar but shorter than the earlier one, drew from his sleeve and he swung it down below him in a rapid slash while in mid-air.

The rifle spilt open from the slice and the plasma core of the barrel was exposed, causing it to explode in the dog's hands. The Akita yelled in sudden pain and clasped his bleeding hand, but made the fatal mistake of looking up.

The Agent, still in the air, flipped over so that his feet faced downward and clicked his boots together.

Ker-SHWANG! Ker-SHWANG!

Two small but lethally sharp dagger-like blades grew from the heels of the Agent's boots, as he plummeted downward, sinking his heels…

SHHFLRRRTH!

…straight through the eye sockets of the mercenary underneath.

The Akita, his face forced in the ceiling's direction, let out a blood-curdling scream of agony that pierced the air with a horrible shriek. Blood flooded over his cheeks like raining crimson tears, quickly turning from stream to waterfall, sending the spray everywhere.

The other mercenaries' eyes widened with horror at this nightmarish image, their hearts throbbing with insane fear and revulsion. Their breathing became heavy as every scream plunged into their minds like knives of emotional hypnosis.

His screams tore from his throat as he staggered and fell about like an intoxicated drunken, but the Agent remained atop of his face with incredible balance. Without a twinge of mercy, he withdrew one foot from the socket and plunged it, doing so with the other until he was literally stomping his heel-blades in and out of the poor dog's flooding eyes, until…

He swept his coat back and stretched his legs into a split-

!

The soldiers swerved their gazes away just in the nick of so that they couldn't catch a glimpse of the grisly scene. But the last hair-raising tortured scream of agony and pain, along with the horribly sickening sound of flesh ripping and blood splattering carved a drilling sense of terror and mind-throbbing fear in them. They all breathed heavily; sweat dripping down their necks, none of them dared to look up to see the result of the horrid kill.

Phwish!

The Agent landed neatly (his heel-blades retracted back into their compartment in his boots) in front of his victim, who was blocked from view by his flapping overcoat. But the dark red blood that trickled near his feet was enough ominous evidence that he had succeeded. He raised his head slowly, his eyes glistening with no bloodlust or mad battle-hunger, but a cold and commanding gleam that swept the room with an icy air of dominance.

The mercenaries stood frozen where their feet met the ground, their breath harsh and fearful and their hearts racing with thunderous and desperate beats. They were still recovering from the mentally-gripping scene they had just witnessed…

That Agent had killed him so effortlessly, and so horribly…and he felt no remorse or shame, as if the agonized scream of the victim was deaf to his ears and left no impact of guilt.

How cold-blooded were these people? How sick were they?

The mercenaries had all seen their share of death. Being decapitated, losing limbs, being shot in the head….that was one thing. That was quick, understandably mild, even. But this….ripping a person alive by their face? Hearing that scream, spilling that much blood, causing as much pain and depriving a living creature of mercy in such a way was…brutal….horrible….

And these were supposed to be the lawful….the judicious…

And the mercenaries were supposed to be the outlaws. But how was this justice?

They didn't need time to debate what was next. The sixth sense of pure panic clashed into them, and they did the only natural thing.

"RETREAT!" The mercenary at the front screamed. He took off in the opposite direction with no intention of waiting for the rest of them to catch up. "COME ON! GET AWAY, OR THEY'LL FREAKING DESTROY US ALL! RUN, YOU IDIOTS, RUN!"

The mercenaries, in a frightened pack, staggered back and sprinted in the opposite direction, some pushing and jutting past their own fellow mercenaries, desperate to evade the presence of their ruthless executioners.

The Lead Agent stepped forward, still control and at ease, regarding the escaping mercenaries as scattering insects.

"You can run from the law…" His callous eyes darted ahead, assessing the weak spots of his enemies. "But you cannot escape the slow and inevitable punishment that awaits on the other side!"

He flipped out a set of small, jagged throwing knives from his slick black gloves. Leaping catlike into the air, he flung them expertly at the running mercenaries.

Fwrreesh!

Shhe-hiiing!

Whheetch!

The small blades whistled and darted through the air like insects, singeing into the dogs' skin from the back at their necks. The jagged edges sliced at them from behind, blood spurting from deep gashes in the nick of their necks, some whizzing by the back off their legs.

Three dogs yelled in pain as they stumbled and fell over, caught off balance with the sudden clash of stinging steel in their arms and necks. While some winced and attempted to pull the deeply-plunged blades out of their skin, others were smart and crawled onward till they were a safe distant to get back up.

While a few of the mercenaries were caught in the midst of their injuries, the Agents sprinted down the hallway, taking advantage of their prey's weakened state. They traveled in a pack, their coats whooshing behind them as their boots went clitter-clatter! across the echoing floor, their arms swept back near their sides.

They didn't give the mercenaries any time to react. One cream-colored weasel charged at a wounded African Hunter dog on the ground. The Hunter dog pulled out his short blaster carbine and sent a volley of defensive yellow shots. Sratttataat!

The Agent nimbly flipped up into the air, the shots barely grazing the dark hem of his cloak-like coat. He threw out his arm, his hand outstretched.

Shwa-Shhhhrssshh!

Instead of a hidden blade appearing out of his sleeve, a huge-linked chain uncoiled like a steel serpent, swerving into a twisted twirl of almost eleven feet. At the end of the long chain was a huge iron cylinder-weight with bristling black spikes jutting out of it. The Agent wielded his flail like a whip, swinging it to and fro near his flanks and over his head.

The other recovered mercenaries did the first smart thing since the Agents had arrived. They rose to their feet and charged at the Agent's unprotected back, closing in to reduce the space for him to move. They pulled out their knives and jabbed for an advantage.

But the Agent was too cunning not to see the trick ahead of time. He flung the chain in the air and flourished the flail around him and behind his back, catching the mercenaries by surprise.

Sprrlthh!

The mercenaries weren't given the time to scream before their deaths were upon them. The brutal spiked weight smashed against their bodies, the spikes slashing open their flesh and crashing through their blood-splattered bones, sending wave after wave of sick dark blood everywhere, soaking their own bodies as well as staining the chain with a new coat of red. As the Agent swung his weapon into the crowd of mercenaries, more and more were impaled and clumped onto the end of the chain, sickly like a group of gutted fish strung up on one hook. Blood showered in all directions, splattering against the walls and dragging across the floor. The mass of gruesomely strung bodies' weight down the end of the chain, and the Agent flipped the chain into the air before pulling it forward and delivering a powerful kick forward.

KER-SPLLRTTCCCHHH!

Crimson rain flew in all directions, splattering and washing over the floor and walls, and even drenching some horrified mercenaries with the dripping innards of their now-ripped-apart associates. They screamed and wriggled under the dragging organs and gaped in horror at the Agent himself, who incredibly was standing in the one clean spot where the blood hadn't reached. His eyes turned to another fallen mercenary that he had somehow missed.

The dog whimpered under his merciless gaze. "Please…no…!"

SPLSRRTH!

He writhed and howled in searing agony, as the Agent flung his spiked weight down on to the mercenary's unprotected chest, slashing and ripping at it like a spiny hammer. Blood gushed and ripped from the giant hole in his stomach, and after beating the weight down viciously, he drove it down and began to drag the wound open. The pain was excruciating: the height the spine-tingling screams rose caused all onlookers to almost weep in fear, unable to tear their reluctant gaze from this horrible death.

Then, the screaming stopped. "P-P…pl…"

The Agent paused, acknowledging the massacred body for a moment.

"Plea…ppl…p-please…" The poor creature was already half-dead, his eyes just barely remaining open, his breathing hoarse and frail. Even in the sight of his own death, the torture he was enduring was too much to bear. "…mercy…." He lifted a feeble, blood-soaked hand, his eyes pleading with a heart-crushing look of desperate sadness.

For a moment, the Agent actually seemed to oblige. He lifted the anchor-like spiked weight from the wound, and bent down to the dog's level.

He held out his hand. A look of weak and pathetic joy sprang into the mercenary's eyes, as he weakly took a hold of it-

Shwa-SHIIIING!

But the dog's plea of humane feelings was answered with a swift act of icy-blooded cold-heartedness. The dog's eyes were huge with petrified fear, as a long, steely blade protruded from his neck from the sleeve, and even worse, near the hand in which the Agent had taken. In the last moments before death, the Agent left him with a painful and merciless notion of soul-crushing unfeeling.

"Law-breaking scum." The Agent spat quietly. "All traitors who walk outside the law set down by the judicious deserve the long and slow death of a traitor, and an eternity of damnation. There is no reason for me to give you anything less…or pity your pathetic carcass."

The Agent ripped his blade from the weakened dog's throat, watching contently as the eyes gave one last saddened look in his eyes disappear and loll back, before his head splattered and tore from the neck and landed with a thick splrntch! in the circle of blood…and was soon joined by the decapitated body.

The mercenaries watching from afar, stared with fixed and wide-eyed horror at the dismembered head of their slaughtered comrade. Their fear-stricken souls screamed in silent plea to turn their gaze away from the nightmarish sight, but the direction of their vision was somehow preventing them from looking anywhere but at the decapitated head, like a parasite of terror gripping their minds and thrusting them down into the bowels of their own horrendous fears.

Their gazes were also on the Agent that stood near the beaten body, his eyes unchanging with their unblinking stare of remorseless coldness. These men…weren't men at all….

They were murderous…unstoppable…

They didn't just kill their enemies. They tore them apart…tortured them…extracted every particle of mercy from their last moments in the world…and finish them off in unspeakably lurid and gruesome deaths. The same inevitable painful death that awaited the mercenaries themselves…

There was no escape…there was no hope of standing alive against cold-blooded Agents like these…

Cla-Clatter!

The mercenaries tossed their useless weapons aside and sprinted away as fast as they could without a second thought. Every one of them was desperate. They had to get away…they at least deserved a better death…not at the hands of these people…

But the Lead Agent had no intention of letting any of them escape with their lives…the notion alone was too merciful.

He drew another throwing knife from the depths of his coat, only this one was double-edged and more fang-like. Without even taking a step, he flung the blade with two fingers, his eye darting to his target…

Whirrarrarra-SHING!

The blade found its mark, sweeping like a wasp and stabbing straight into the back of a trailing mercenary. The unfortunate victim cried aloud with pain that caused him to lose balance and fall to the ground behind the group. The others were already far ahead, and turned around too late to take notice.

The fallen mercenary, a Labrador, desperately attempted to stagger back to his feet. His raised his outstretched hand to his friends ahead.

"…wait…"

The two remaining mercenaries stopped and ran back to help him.

SHWA-SHAAAANG!

Two massive chains snared out of the Lead Agent's sleeves like twin steel snakes, each with a brutal spike-studded hook at the end. He whirled them to the front like a pair of whips, having them soar forward.

Shliirrrrrth!

The Labrador screamed as the hooks dug themselves into his heels. The Agent merciless pulled back on the chains, yanking the Lab back onto the ground and dragging him back in, reeling him closer…

"NO!" One of the two survivors, a horrified Terrier, ran forward to help him.

But the other, a tall Spaniel, stopped him before he could take another step. "Leave him! There's nothing that can be done…"

"I have to do something!" The Terrier looked on at the Lab. "Look!"

The poor Lab clawed at the ground desperately, digging his claws into the floor, but was dragged in none the less by the Agent's cruel grip. He clambered and fought, but as the reddened hooks yanked agonizingly at his feet, he looked up pleadingly at the mercenaries ahead.

"I have to help him!" The Terrier cried. "I'm not going to leave him to die at the hands of that cold-blooded scum!"

"Help him then!" The Spaniel spat contemptuously. "But do it alone. I'm not risking my life to help him."

The Terrier looked at him with horror. "You'd leave him to die? But he's one of our own!"

"He fell behind." The Spaniel stepped away gravely. "If you want to help him and die, go ahead." And without even a second thought of remorse, he took off down the hall and through the door.

The Lab on the ground scratched and gripped the floor, but lines followed his claws like tracks in the ground as he was pulled back.

"HELP ME! PLEASE! DON'T LET THEM KILL ME!" Desperate tears rolled down his cheeks as he was pulled in, like a victim being drawn into quicksand. His shining eyes, filled with anguish and fear, pierced through the Terrier's heart.

The Terrier looked painfully at the Lab, so sure that he could help him. But after his pained gaze fell upon the Lead Agent that was pulling him nearer, his heart felt heavy.

The Agent's stare seemed to almost dare the Terrier to come nearer and aid the Lab, sending the message that he would meet the same fate.

Chest heaving with the impossible decision he would have to make, the Terrier looked tearfully at the poor man.

I don't want to die…but I can't leave knowing that I abandoned him…

What should I do? What should I do…?

"PLEASE!" The Lab sobbed, clutching the ground with the last of his might, reaching out pleadingly for some help, some humanity…

Scared, petrified, and confused, the Terrier didn't know what to do. Finally, as if making a heart-ripping decision, he gave one last tear-struck apologetic look at the Lab, before tearing his gaze away, and leaving.

"NOOOOO!" The crying Lab screamed, his eyes red from the constant tears of horrified disbelief and terror. He dug his hands into the ground until they bled, kicked his stabbed feet around, screaming blood-turning cries of tortured defeat and fearful panic. He knew what was coming….he knew that they would kill him slowly and horribly… "DON'T LEAVE MEEEE! COME BACK! DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE! SOMEBODY, PLEASE! I DON'T WANT TO D-!"

Ker-SCHWAAAANG!

The Lead Agent flipped the chain and pulled his victim towards him, before delivering a vicious kick and sending him up against the wall. Before the Lab's feet could even touch the ground, the Agent's gloved pincer-like hand jabbed forward, clutching him by the throat without a twinge of mercy, holding him against the wall. With his other hand, he pressed a long, hidden blade from his sleeve against the Lab's stomach.

"You snuck illegal immigrants aboard this ship. Tell me where they are hidden," the Agent spat in a vibrant voice that radiated quiet and cool malice with every syllable.

The Lab's eyes were huge with terror, his glistening eyes reflecting the glint of death that harbored within the razor-sharp blade that cradled his stomach. "I-I-I…don't know," His breath flew around rapidly from his throat as it begged for air under the menacingly iron-strong grip of the Agent's grip. "None of us…hic…were…ah-hkk…allowed to…AAAAARRRGHHHH!'

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the piercing scream of agony tearing from his own throat, as the Agent plunged the point of his blade into his stomach, and slowly cutting downwards through his flesh, making a red river appear on his body. He did it slowly….causing as much pain as he could…twirling and moving like a signature in crimson ink…

The Agent reached into the folds of the mercenary's jacket and pulled out a thin, metallic, rectangular Data Displayer. His cold eyes returned to pierce the dying dog's gaze.

"You know…" He spoke quietly in a dangerous tone. "You're very fortunate that I found you first…and my master didn't. He doesn't take too well to liars as I do."

SLLLLSHRIIIIIIINNNNGGGG!

Like water breaking out of a broken glass pitcher, blood escaped like a tide from the mercenary's stomach before a scream could escape from his mouth. His body fell apart in two like sliced meat as torso tore off from his legs and fell into the spreading puddle of blood with a sickening splish!

Kwar-Shiiing!

The Lead Agent's blade disappeared into the depths of his black leather sleeve with a glint of steel, as he rose to his feet and examined the Data Displayer.

"Pursue the others and eliminate them," he said to the other Agents around him, without removing his gaze from the silver device in his hands. "Secure the rest of the area, and deal with any further…..inconveniences."

The other Agents nodded and sprinted down the hall, their coats gliding behind them.

The room looked like someone had dumped bucket-load after bucket-load of dark red paint, and the floors were strewn with either decapitated or dismembered bodies, butchered and cut up, their innards lying near them or still strung from their opened chests. But of course, the remaining Agents themselves remained clean, their stainless black suits and coats untouched by the field of carnage around them. It was their infamous way of killing: Causing chaos and destruction and horror…but maintain a cold sense of clean-cut formality and calmness.

The dark-furred Agent rose from a body he was inspecting. "Mercenary low-lifes…they offer nothing to our mission, and waste our time. This whole deal is a waste of time…"

The Lead Agent looked up warningly from the device. "Scipius…."

"We scour the galaxy for threats and potential enemies…to deal with them and deliver justice," Scipius hissed contemptuously. "And what does our master send us after? Peddling little mercenaries. Are we so far low in our Order that we need to conduct a task equal to that of caring for irresponsible children…"

"Scipius!" The Lead Agent's sharp voice rose only for a moment before returning to its quiet, calm, menacing state. "You dare not speak ill of our master…or to question his divine guidance…"

"I wasn't speaking ill of the master, Curizio. I am loyal to him as I am loyal to God," Scipius bowed his head respectfully. "I only question his motives for which he chooses to act upon."

The Lead Agent, Curizo, returned his gaze to the device. "Faith is a gift you have yet to receive, young Scipius. Our master formed this Order and Agency with one notion in mind…to ensure the peace and security of the Lylat System. When the law is broken, we are beckoned to take charge and enforce it." His eyes wandered to the bloody corpses around the room. "With any means necessary."

"But how does he expect us, his followers, to do as he does when our missions only consist of killing common mercenaries? Why, when there exist so many greater threats-"

"There is no greater threat," Curizio cut in sharply. "To our Order or to the Government. When our master finally spread his influence through the Cornerian Government, one obstacle still stood in the way: the mercenaries and outlaws. They feed on crime and walk outside the law, and are lowlier than even the foulest of insects. They mock our principles and laws by merely existing. They were in the height of glory during the Lylat Wars, and many were in league with Venom. They were everywhere…and needed to be exterminated."

"Yes, yes," Scipius muttered impatiently. "But why must we attack every single mercenary vessel that comes into our scopes with constant effort and forces? They aren't that significant, are they?"

While they were both talking, a severely wounded mercenary on the floor had been quiet enough to move around in his crippled state. He used his hand to crawl across the floor, just slowly enough so that he wouldn't be noticed.

Apparently unaware, the two continued.

"You talk as the Cornerian Senators did when we passed our laws. Their wish was to only capture as many as they could find. But capture isn't enough. They must be eliminated….we must scour the galaxy of their presence. Should we let one escape, they will only rally others. If we were merciful to those we pursue, what reputation would we leave for our Agency? Many would soon believe that we are a minor threat, and would only prompt them to continue. No, Scipius…"

SLRTTTTHSHIIING!

Blood flew in the air as Curizio with blurring speed, extended his hidden blade from his sleeve and stabbed the wounded mercenary through the back.

The mercenary screamed and bawled with pain as he drove the blade through his spine, twisting it and grinding it painfully through.

"…we cannot allow even a single one of these men to escape," Curizio said calmly over the shrieks of the man being slaughtered at his feet. "They are like a pesticide….where one escapes, more will nest with it, and come back to haunt us again." SLRRRTHH! He drew the long blade from the mercenary's carcass and retracted it back into his sleeve. "And an endless path of chaos and insolence begins...such that could lead to a Second Lylat War. The last thing this galaxy needs is a force equivalent to that of Venom. And to prevent one from happening, the galaxy must obey Corneria, and Corneria must obey us. All who do not are traitors to their galaxy…slaves to their own unlawfulness. They come in any form: mercenary, bounty hunter, pilot….man, woman, and child….all forms. It is our duty to prevent even the slightest threat from becoming something that could threaten the peace we've worked half a decade to achieve. And all who threaten the peace…deserve the same, equal death."

He kicked the corpse away and resumed his gaze like nothing happened.

"Fine…" Scipius folded his arms. "But I do not see why we must go in individually. When there's an adequate number of people on board to kill, why deploy Agents when we can take care of this whole thing with such little effort?"

"What do you mean?" Curizio asked, looking up sharply.

"Let's use the weapon! We can signal our master to-"

SLAMM!

Curizio slammed the Agent the wall with blurring speed, his iron-like grip placed on his chest, forcing him against the ship's plating.

"Do not speak of the weapon here!" The gray weasel hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Information about it alone is classified to even the highest of our Order! The next time you mention it out in the open, I'll have the master's permission to cut your vocal organs out, understand?"

Scipius's eyes grew huge for a moment, the Lead Agent's pincer-like hands digging into his body. "No, wait! Reconsider for a moment…I only meant-"

"Do not humor my confidence with uttering about your 'intentions'," Curizio said through clenched teeth. "Be wary, young Scipius. The only reason you aren't dead now is because our Order requires your uses. And pray I do not inform the master of such actions. He does not tolerate recklessness." He released him with a sneer and walked away.

Scipius rubbed his neck angrily. "Is it really that important?"

"It is the only reason our master rose to power," The Lead Agent said as he ran his gloved finger on the side of the silver device. "It was by that that he managed to grip the surrounding planets with enough fear to have them submit to his will. The Cornerian Government required much pushing forward to bend down get pushed forward with the rest of the legal changes. But apart from the knowledge of the weapon's actual existence and what it's capable of doing, its actual classification, design and name remain unknown to all outside our order, and must remain that way. No one must know anymore about it, otherwise too much knowledge could lead to any rebellious fools into thinking they have an advantage over us. Nothing….not even the smallest of threats…must be ignored. That's what the Cornerian President failed to understand…that's what the Government failed to understand…and also what the Star Fox Team didn't understand." He smiled cruelly. "And that is why they are what we've made them to be now….insignificant and cut off from their former glory. Those loathsome merciful fools, wandering in their giant rusting garbage hauler of a Great Fox, are no longer the keepers of the peace. We are. They are where they belong…on permanent patrol, and out of our way. The last thing we need is them to find out about our…methods…" He glanced at the carcass on the floor. "And get in the way of our justified notions. And they, just like anyone else, must not find out about the weapon. I hope for your sake that's clear, Scipius."

"Very well," The younger Agent muttered, seeing that the conversation was stretching longer than he'd like. "Forgive my impudence."

"Besides…" He ran his fingers over the sleek surface of the device and clicked at the center.

Beewwooom!

A holographic layout of the ship's cross-sections blinked above the steel disc in the palm of Curizio's hand, whose cold eyes shimmered at the find. "…we are only dispatched to take care of the mercenaries. That was the original task when our Order was formed, and that's the task we are meant to carry out. But the stowaways…" His smile grew with a malicious expression of callous knowing, as if laughing quietly to a cruel private joke. "…will be dealt with by our other subordinates."

He drew a comm. from his pocket. A voice buzzed from it.

"Sir?"

"Deploy the Liberator Corps to the Passenger Deck on Floor G, and command them to await for further orders. Also, inform the master that all preparations have been made for his arrival."

"Um…will he need an escort of bodyguards for the-?" The voice on the comm. started nervously.

"Bodyguards? For the master?" Curizio repeated in almost an amused tone. "He does not need a slowdown such as last time…we have wasted one too many guards to count who have gotten in his way and…not returned."

"I see…well, then….I'll inform him at once." The voice faded from the comm.'s buzz.

The Lead Agent pocketed his comm., gazing with little interest at the holographic display. "Put your restless thoughts at ease, Scipius….there will be a slaughter, and it will be short and sweet." His murderous stare was still fixed on the device. He ran his finger down the middle. "These fools realized that they had no chance against us from the start…but they still believe with some stupid childish hope in their weak minds that they can still hold out until the stowaways they want to protect get away safely. But they don't know the penalty they face…because they do not know our master. And our master…"

SHING!

A claw tore through the fingertips of the glove, cutting deeply into the mechanism.

"…will be their last dark reminder in this world of what happens when you break the codes of justice, and taint the galaxy's peace with crimes and sins. After all…he does not kill his enemies as mercifully and quickly as we do."

Ker-SHANG!

The Lead Agent's claw sliced through the disc like a guillotine, and mechanism gave out as its steel was split in two, before falling with a broken clatter at his feet.

Meanwhile, on the Ship's Middle Level…

The entire deck was completely crowded.

Men, women, children, families, of every age, and every species were gathered in massive crowd, being herded like cattle. The young ones rubbed their eyes drowsily, as they trudged along near their mothers. The adults had their eyes darting around fearfully, with perfect awareness what was going on outside the ship. The combined whispers and words uttered from the crowd were combined into that muffled and inarticulate noise that groups of people make.

Up ahead of the crowd, blasters gripped nervously and eyes peeled anxiously, were some of the mercenaries sent from the Command deck. They tried to act assured for the sake of the crowd, but each individual knew the slim chances they had of getting out of this alive.

None of them were counting on running into any Agents-If that was the case, they'd already be dead-but they were still keeping an eye out for the Agents' subordinates. They weren't as skilled with merciless killing as Agents, but were just as cold-hearted.

They themselves were a hopeless group of 20 or less, with a young Beagle leading them at the front.

"Group together, please!" The Beagle called, trying to take charge of the situation as authority. "I want all children and infants being supervised at all times. For the time being, I must insist that you all form up so that no one falls behind. Please remain calm….the situation is under control. Just follow us, and you'll be taken to the Escape Pod Bay."

The crowd continued to lumber behind them, not feeling much more comforted about their safety by these words.

He lowered his voice and spoke to other mercenaries, his brown eyes worried. "Is this all of them? You're sure you didn't miss anyone?"

"I scanned the entire floor, Lardon! There's nothing left on the Passenger deck."

The Beagle, Lardon, blew a sigh of relief. "Good…I can't imagine what those scumbags would to anyone left behind."

"I don't know why everyone's screaming about," A Pug mercenary mumbled in a bored voice. "So we ran into some Cornerian Law Enforcement. Big deal."

The Lardon glared at him. "Maybe if you paid more attention to what Captain Nelson says instead of that fat stomach, you'd know how dangerous situation's become."

"Meh, that old timer must have been seeing things, maybe crocked on some Bolse beer-"

"You weren't on the deck when we all saw that rotting corpse of a ship, Zachman!" Lardon barked contemptuously. "You didn't see the skulls hanging on the bottom of their ship either!"

"Okay, okay," Zachman muttered quickly. "But they can't be worse than what we've dealt with before."

"I lost a brother to those murderers, a long time ago," The beagle said bitterly, his eyes drifting to a more painful time. "He had fought through the entire Lylat Wars, and even he was no match for them."

"You lost a brother to the Agents?" The Zachman asked incredulously.

"Not the Agents." He gripped his blaster handle heatedly. "Otherwise my family and I wouldn't have had anything left to bury. He was killed by their soldiers. Gunned down like a dog…"

"Fine," The Zachman started again. "But still, anything's better than dragging this crowd to the escape pod bay. And if those soldiers…if they're as bad as you say…"

"They're worse," Lardon cut in. "Besides, I'd worry less about us mercenaries getting more damage. It's them they want…" He eyed the crowd of civilians worriedly.

A couple of mercenaries at the front lined up near the doorway at the end of the all and kicked open. Popping their heads just through the doorway, their rifles loaded for even the slightest inconvenience, they waved two fingers in the Beagle's direction in an "all-clear" gesture.

Lardon nodded to surrounding mercenaries. They raised their weapons and sprinted forward, the crowd following close behind them.

It's a good thing we haven't run into any trouble yet…

I just wish this crowd could be a little quieter…

Just because they haven't attacked us yet doesn't mean they're not out there…

He swallowed nervously and kept his eyes adjacent to the barrel of his blaster carbine.

Fsh-Click!

Lardon's heart jumped at the small sound and turned on its direction with his blaster, only to find that it was a Daschund mercenary, slipping a blaster clip through the magazine compartment of his pistol.

He cocked it cautiously. "Can't be too prepared with those Agents running around."

"Shhh!" Lardon hissed, his eyes darting from the crowd and back. "Don't be so loud about it, will you? Don't mention it loud enough for the passengers to hear you! The last thing we need is a panic at a time like this…"

"Sorry…" The Daschund mumbled sheepishly.

The other mercenaries exchanged glances. They didn't usually see their Leader this jumpy.

The mercenaries moved swiftly down the hall, and Lardon let out a breath of relief at the sight of the quiet, empty hall in front of them.

We're making progress…

We just need to…

Then up ahead, one of the mercenaries stopped in his tracks. He began to look around…as if he had just discovered something out of place.

"Jeremiah," Lardon called in a low whisper, recognizing these symptoms. "What is it?"

Jeremiah, who was a coonhound, raised one of his fuzzy ears. "I hear somethin'…"

He paced over to the wall, eyes darting left to right, trying to pick up a sound.

"Hear anything unusual?"

Jeremiah squinted. "Yeah…" Then, his expression changed, face drained of the courage he'd had earlier on the start of the mission. "Blaster shots…steel….yells…."

Lardon froze in his tracks. There's a battle going on nearby…

But are we that close…?

"How far away?"

"Close….maybe two or three rooms away…."

Lardon's breathing started to quicken. He knew better than to question the observations of Jeremiah's keen ears. "Are you sure?"

Jeremiah walked over to the wall. Sniffing the air, he turned back to the beagle, his eyes wide. "It's here…..blood…"

All the mercenaries around him paled.

They were close…

Too close…

Lardon whirled around and hissed at the crowd. "Everyone, pick up the pace, quickly! Don't start running or make too much noise, just walk faster!"

The startled crowd held their breath as their feet pitter-pattered down the echoing hallway as quietly as possible. Everyone, even the mercenaries, were losing the ability to conceal their terrified anxiety and fearful paranoia. Anything could go wrong now, and the consequence would be more horrifying than any of them could imagine…

Come on…Come on…

Sweat dripped down Lardon's brow as he frantically moved more quickly.

We're almost there…

We'll be safe if we just reach the end of the hall…

Jeremiah and some of his surrounding allies moved against the wall stealthily, shifting the noise from their feet to bounce against the hollow wall and suppress the sound of their movement…

But it was then the hound heard the noise.

The pitched, barely audible beeping…

…of a detonator.

He didn't even have time to scream. He had just enough time to whirl around, mouth open, but with a throat too parched to yell out a final warning. Lardon saw the whites of his eyes expand with terrified shock before-

SHR-THOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The wall was blasted open with the bomb's exploding impact, casting a heated-yellow aura and sending heaps of smoldering rubble and cracking wall fragment across the once-quiet hall. Jeremiah and the mercenaries at the front were buried under the shocking blast, their arms flying upwards and their screams drowned out by the screeching sound of the explosion.

Dozens of screams broke out in the crowd like set-off dynamite, as panic washed over all the civilians. The families and passengers scrambled back in a chaotic wave of paranoid madness, backing up against the hall's back-entrance.

The mercenaries had no time to react. Lardon regained grip of his blaster, shouting back to the rest of the dogs. "Lock and load! Aim for all hostiles!"

The mercenaries cocked their weapons and threw some aimless blaster fire into the giant smoking hole in the wall.

Out of the smoke billowing from the pressurized entrance through the wall, shadowy figures emerged like out of a deathly fog. The shapes formed out into the figures of tall, menacing soldiers, walking in a stiff manner, their black boots clunking forebodingly into the room. The arousing suspicions in the back of every mercenary's mind were immediately switched to cold, raw fear as the soldier's outline and detail were soon recognized from the ominous stories passed around across the galaxy. Their notorious and horribly well-known black body suits, covered in separated black armor-plates, like leeches infesting a body. The armored chest-plate, shoulder and knee-pads were made of an ebony-colored metal alloy, rumored to be strong enough to endure even the pounding of twenty chain-gun laser blasts. It made these soldiers maintain a grim reputation of being as impenetrable as a Dreadnought cruiser, and almost impossible to kill with the hopeless mercenary weapons that became the downfall of all long-dead bounty hunters and mercenaries that they had wiped out in the past.

Almost everyone shuddered at the sight of the round, demonic gas bombs latched to their belts, which were infamous in countless stories to have robbed several innocent victims of life. In their gauntleted hands, they gripped large, brutal machine guns, more savage and powerful than more common blaster rifles were. They bore huge, carbine-shaped barrels that had huge gaping openings like the jaws of an Aquasinic barracuda. These rifles, aliased "Widow-makers" by rare spectators, could throw off hundreds of blaster-bolts per clip like a shoulder-arm version of a rotary gun. They had become the guillotines of the galaxy, punishing all victims with a death of skin-shredding laser blasts, a punishment reserved as a "quick death", but not very effective for that purpose with all the agony and destruction they caused.

Clamped on each head was a black army helmet with a face-shield visor, similar to the visors on the helmet of a C.W.A.T. member. The visors were made of a yellow-glass laser-proof shield, and each had holographic HUD's and military signals, radars, arrays, and targeting systems flashing from the inside of the visor, with the letters and numbers and cross-scope signals appearing and blinking on the wearer's face.

But the faces behind each fearsome helmet, the actual soldiers, were not the harsh or unpitying face reminiscent of the seemingly faceless masses of the Venomian army. They were Cornerians-dogs, just like the mercenaries who were opposing them. Average men, no different than most seen in the Cornerian Army, even some young soldiers that had just joined. Most didn't have the hardened expressions of the superiors either, just the same sweaty, cautious look that the mercenaries had. They were practically indistinguishable from them, the only acceptation being their mercenary uniforms and military armor.

But the part of the arrivals' appearance that sent a chill down all spectators' spines, was the was the insignia etched into the breast-plate. The style of the depiction was not unlike the illustrious but still heretically ominous as the church scriptures and depictions of the gothic-medieval era. It was of a skull, with a fixed hellish grin of Death, with its empty and almost shadowed eyes seeming to delve right through the doomed souls of every mercenary, as well as a cross. This cross, however, was not the same Catholic one engraved on the Peacekeeper, but rather reminiscent of the Crusader's cross. The bottom vertical part of the cross emerged from the bottom of the skull like a neck, the top protruding from the top of the cranium, and the horizontal portion spreading out of the cheeks, like a blade stabbed through the side of the face, giving an overall appearance of the skull being embedded onto the cross. In its mouth, the skull bore an entwining beautiful yet nightmarish olive branch, only it was dark red and dripping.

Lardon, the mercenaries, and every living, breathing person in the room knew by this symbol exactly who these men were. It was this symbol that followed acted like an infamous protrusion of ominous presence everywhere as they patrolled the galaxy without will and without rest….that had served as the emblem of the force that was drawn over the entire galaxy like the foreboding and looming shadow, gripping it in a cold and ironfisted black coffin of harsh, inexorable justice and despair.

These men were the towering and anonymously feared Liberator Corps. These were the men that stood as the steel-willed pinnacle of the dark and heartless law they were bent to enforce. It was they who had wiped the masses of desperate outlaws and mercenaries that had fought painstakingly and hopelessly to their grim and sorrowful end….

The ones that were the tools used by a faceless and mysterious architect who had shaped the galaxy into the embodiment of oppression and desperation….

The ones who had replaced the Cornerian Army as the dominant military force of the Lylat System, the ones that had carried out all the harsh laws, both just and inhuman (but mostly inhuman), and were everywhere and nowhere at once, just like their masters, and their masters' master…

But Lardon and his allies knew this all too well. They had spent the remaining portion of their lives hearing spine-numbing tales and crowd-silencing encounters about these men….coming in endless swarms like a wave of black insects…eliminating and washing out anyone regardless of them being a man, woman, or child, for even the most mediocre of law-breaking….the theft of a crumb meaning instant sentence for an inevitable punishment…

And the penalties….the penalties…there was probably no one in the galaxy who didn't have their lingering minds haunted about them…

Being stripped and thrown into a bed of coals…

Being lined up against the wall and being fired at until there were more holes than skin…

Being herded up like confused, panicked livestock and being reduced to flesh and rubble by merciless showers of grenades…

And what was worse was that these Liberators…these 'soldier'…followed orders without question…because they knew that question of authority, or any kind of resistance was unspeakable…

It was for this reason that all, even the mercenaries despite their hiding of it, cowered in their skin most of all…

As the Liberators marched forward, their emotionless eyes fixed on the stunned mercenaries, Lardon swallowed fearfully as a drop of sweat crept down his neck and under the collar of his jacket collar.

Damn it...how the hell did they find us so fast…

There's just not enough of us….they'll butcher us like cattle…

He glanced at the trembling civilians behind them, who would normally scream into a panic, but were too terrified to even move. The children cowered timorously behind their equally-scared parents at the site of the towering soldiers approaching.

Lardon's heart quickened. He knew what would become of the passengers if the Liberators captured them…

He swallowed his fear and let his breath out in attempt to build up his courage. He wasn't going to show fear in front of these people…

They'll lose faith in me if I act scared….I'm supposed to protect them…

No…

He cocked his blaster, a newfound sense of perseverance flowing through his veins.

….no…We are supposed to protect them…

He raised his gun and fixed his sights on the soldiers trudging forward. "OPEN FIRE! NO QUARTRER!"

The mercenaries let out a group yell as they charged forward, blasters raised, sending volley after volley of blue blaster shots that darted through the air.

Cher-THOOM-THOOM-THOOM! Cher-THOOM-THOOM!

The Liberators didn't make an effort to charge aggressively. They just continued marching forward, holding their machine guns in front of them.

Mercenaries took marksman positions in the hall, kneeling or standing ground as they delivered well-aimed shots, their eyes dotting from one target to the next. The barrels or their rifles were aligned in a parallel direction, a blast flashing from one of them randomly at a time, like a row of electronic lights with one flashing at a different spot at a different time!

Shu-puaing!

Shra-Puaing!

Lardon took lead of the offensive, charging into the fray and sending streaming blasts in a wave in front of him with his rifle. "FLANK'EM! DON'T HOLD BACK!" His hand gripped the trigger, and blaster bolts flew from his rifle.

BRATTA-BRATTA!

The blue shots kept on ramming endlessly on the chrome black armor of the Liberators. But the shots flew and retracted off uselessly against the breast-plate armor and pads that covered their body. The most that would happen would be that the shots would hammer in a bunch against the surface of the armor, and the soldier would stagger back or be pushed back slightly at the impact of the blast. But they kept ominously marching forward, the shots bouncing off their armor and sending off a pow! in the echoing hallway, taking it in like a casual shower of rain.

Lardon grinded his teeth in frustration. That armor's too thick…

Normal laser blasts won't do anything…

We have to push them back somehow!

He called back to his allies. "Boys! Give'em a handful and push them back!"

The other mercenaries nodded and fell back, crouching. They drew metallic orbs with dormant red sensors. Grabbing the top and twisting it clockwise like a lock on a safe, they armed the grenades and tossed them into the direction of the approaching Corps.

The red sensors on the flying grenades flashed red like newly-opened eyes, and rained down in front of the corps.

GRRR-SHOOOOOM!

The huge orange blast sank into the ground and threw a shockwave into the air, bring down heaps of rubble and dust down on to the once stainless hallway floor. As the wall heaps crackled down and sent cracks down the walls lining the hall, the crowd of civilians behind the mercenaries screamed in a wave and recoiled in terror at the sound of the grenade. They began to fall back, some even running in the opposite direction.

As the dust cleared, Lardon scanned the opposite side of the hall in desperate hope, looking for the damage they'd scored.

Whatever impact he had hoped for had been barely achieved. Three or four liberators were lying in an unconscious heap on the side, their armor charred in filthy rubble black that clashed with their plates' chrome black. But the rest of the group trudged forward effortlessly, completely unscathed by the impact of the grenades.

Lardon cursed under his breath and barked a new order to the others. "Fall back! Concentrate fire on them, but keep in front of the civilians as much as possible!"

But before they could react, the Liberators raised their machine guns. The barrels began to rotate and hum, before-

BRUNNNANNNANNNANNNA!

Huge golden bursts of blast energy spat from the gaping barrels of their rifles, a large rotating kindle of yellow plasma emitting long, devastating beams that sent a thunderous riveting sound across the hall like steel rain hitting a concrete valley. The combined flank of Liberators kept marching forward, holding out their blasters and making a wake of huge aligned auras of blaster bolts so that from the front, they looked like a mobile wildfire. The huge and seemingly endless amounts of firepower from each rifle grazed through the first row of mercenaries and plowed through them, throwing streams of fatal blasts like horizontal rain that smashed into each body and shredding it into smoking, charred holes. The mercenaries struck by this wave of ominously dominant firepower let out piercing cries and pitiful shrieks of final torment as they fell like sweeps of trees under deforestation, collapsing in a heap of battered armor and blood.

As flying blasts began to rip through the walls near the panicking civilians, they all scattered in terrified masses as more and more deafening screams erupted in the air, all of them covering their heads as if to dodge the incoming blaster shots. Families, groups, and just about every other passenger who wanted to escape with their skins on sprang into startled packs in different directions, all flooding the hallway like a pack of scattering rats escaping a sewer tunnel.

Lardon swung his head around just in time to watch groups of frantic people run in the opposite direction.

Crap! What the hell are they doing? They'll be killed if they run off unprotected!

With the blinding blaster beams from both sides flashing and flying, grazing the air all around him, Lardon tried to force his attention on the mercenaries next to him.

"Go after those people and defend them until you reach a safe zone!" He shouted from his bruised throat over the muffled screams and gunshots.

"What, are you INSANE?" A nearby mercenary yelled. "Forget them, we gotta save our own skins-"

"DON'T YOU DARE ABANDON THOSE PEOPLE, YOU COWARD!" He roared. "GO AFTER THEM NOW!" He pushed the mercenary savagely and barked more orders to the men around him. "Half of you go with him. The rest of you stay and help push them back!"

The dogs nodded briefly and sprinted after the crowd at the end of the hall.

The Liberators had now made it all the way to the mercenaries' position, and now were slamming into them with hand-to-hand combat. Some bold mercenaries yelled and ran right into the soldiers, crashing shoulder-first into their cumbersome armored bodies and drawing brass knuckles, knives and hand-batons.

CRRRTCHH!

SLAM!

SCRUNCH!

The Liberators slid on the cold, sleek floor with their feet out, kicking mercenaries off balance and tackling them to the ground. Most were bludgeoning opponents with their unfairly brutal armor-gauntleted fists and knees, while others drew long, wicked combat blades from belts strapped on their arms. A majority of the Liberators were fighting barbarously, kicking soldiers to their ground and hammering them with the butts of their rifles and crushing them under the weight of their armor. The mercenaries were practically defenseless, because all they had was their bare skin and common weapons, and were taking merciless abuse from far superior soldiers.

Lardon gripped his rifle and kept his thumb scrunched around the trigger like it was glued, letting the laser blasts fly out without hesitation. But as he looked around at the area in the Liberators' direction, the more that marched forward with their blazing rifles and how many seemed to leak out of the blasted hole in the wall like an infestation of army ants, the rousing militant heat that had risen in his body was starting to diminish. With guts or without, this battle was becoming hopeless.

There's just no end to them…

We're the only line of defense between them and the civilians…

SHER-PUNG!

A stray yellow blaster bolt hurled through the air like a hornet and blasted the dog next to him full in the face. With rip-throated groan, the soldier fell limp as blood surged from the back of his head.

Lardon snatched glimpses from the dead body and back to the Liberators ahead. One swung his hammer-like rifle handle down on the skull of a wounded mercenary who clutched his face and slumped forward pitilessly.

SHWA-BOOOM!

A sweeping blast of green laser energy shot forward like a well-aimed punch into the mercenary's helmeted face, the impact slamming him back.

Lardon turned at the sound of a Ker-klikk!, to find a determined-looking Husky holding a smoking shotgun. He gave an encouraging nod to him.

"I'll take your six! Concentrate your fire around the fire squad at the front!" Not waiting for a response, the Husky squatted on the ground and pounded more soldiers with his shotgun.

Lardon half-smiled before lifting his rifle resuming his finger to the trigger. BRATTA-BRATTA!

The Liberators closest to him started to keep their distance from Lardon and the Husky's spot, eyeing the shotgun warily.

But just as Lardon's hopes rose that they were beginning to fall back, he noticed one soldier sneaking near the wall, holding something against the wall's surface…

Before he could see it, the soldier took off, tapping a device in his hands.

Lardon didn't even need to see the object he had left behind. His shoulders tensed, and his breathing became suddenly heavy. His mind felt like it was being dropped down some rushing tunnel down his body, and he tried to scream, but he didn't hear himself do it.

"FALL BACK! FALL BA-"

But the mercenaries around him had only enough time to look up to acknowledge their leader from the heat of the battle, before they all heard it: the horribly familiar sound of a detonation charge.

It seemed like Lardon had to kick his feet into the ground to put them into action before they started to move, but even then, it didn't seem like he was running fast enough. The atmosphere seemed to slow him down, like he was running through a room filled with viscous liquid…

KER-SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMM!

The blast shook the entire hallway, wrenching the rigid walls off the sides of the long, narrow structure. An orange fiery explosion spread in the spot before spitting out black, ugly smoke that seemed to devour the area. Less fortunate mercenaries were sucked into the explosion, waving their arms frantically in an attempt to escape.

Lardon was still running, when-

SLAM!

A large, sweaty mass of leather and blood crashed into him from behind, causing Lardon to topple over clumsily, his feet caught in whomever or whatever's lack of balance. He fell back on the floor on his stomach, the hard floor snapping at the back of his head like a disturbed python.

"Hrgfff!"

Lardon felt a wave a sudden shock numbing in the back of his skull. He widened his eyes and sank his head back on the floor to gaze up at the ceiling, but his vision was moving in and out like a camera out of focus. His eyes flickered dimly, and he could see the charred ceiling above him. Feeling his arms and his legs, he wriggled under the cumbersome lump that was on top of him.

Slmpth!

A dog's face dangled over his own, eyes wide open in shock and forehead split open into a dark red gash that dripped down onto Lardon's cheeks.

He recoiled in both anguish and horror as he squirmed under the corpse's weight and shoved him off to the side, where he rolled over in a clatter of meshed battered mercenary uniform. As he hoisted himself back to his feet, his ears were still buzzing groggily from the sound blast of the explosion, only picking up the rattling sound of his own hoarse breathing, and the blood pounding in his eardrums.

Ker-BLAM!

A stray blaster shot near skimmed the air just above Lardon's ears, singing the wall behind him, and causing him t flinch. The sound shook him back into his senses as the fur on his neck and ears bristled in a canine way, and fell behind a heap of gravel that acted like a cover.

He scrambled near the cover and huddled underneath the confinement of the rubble. The laser blasts whizzed and flew around in the air above him, some sounding close by and others sounding far off…they just seemed to come close to him at random. He heard the shots, crashes and groans on the other side of the rubble pile, where the battle was going on.

Lardon sat back against the pile, breathing heavily. He looked around him to see holey bodies of his own men, who had been on guard firing with him only a moment ago. Now, he felt alone and anxious and even scared by himself.

SHWOOM!

"Argh!"

His heart jumped as there was a shot and a groan from behind the wall of rubble, and a body fell over the side next to him with a sickening Clump!

He swallowed hesitantly and grabbed a rifle from a body nearby. He wedged open the ammo slot with sweaty hands and began to shove blaster cartridges into it feverishly.

Shwa-THOOM!

BerrANG!

The shots seemed to come closer.

Sweat dribbled down Lardon's neck, and he wiped the blood from his forehead-the blood that wasn't his. His eyes darted from the rifle he was loading to the scene up front, the back of the battleground, where mercenaries were fleeing and some even shot before him. He could just make out the civilians running off in the distance, and the stress of their safety gripped him again.

He began to pant frantically, with so much going on around him…

The screaming…the shooting…the groaning…the explosions….the bodies falling…the civilians running…

Everything was happening at once all around him, and it made him hot and frustrated, like a child lost in a tight space without a parent. His sweaty hands slipped as he was reloading the rifle as if on auto-pilot, and the cartridges spilled across the floor with a scraping sound. His hands wriggled over and swept them up and he resumed, his head twisting back to see if anyone was there to help him out.

Klatter-klump!

He twitched at the sound of footsteps and looked up.

Lardon's lungs issued out a sigh of relief as the familiar face of one his mercenary allies, a burly Shrauzer.

"Lardon! Christ, I thought you were part of the ash heap, I-" His eyes fell on his forehead. "Damn…did you take a hit?"

Lardon rubbed the blood messily from his forehead. "I'm fine…I just…never mind." He shuddered at the thought of being under the corpse. "How many of ours are left?"

The Shrauzer shook his head gravely. "They've chewed our numbers down to a dozen. They just keep coming, and at this rate…"

"Damn…" Lardon grinded his teeth. He looked over the wall, watching the endless group of soldiers march forward. "We've failed…" His ears lowered miserably in shame.

"Not yet we haven't." The Shrauzer gripped his shoulder with supportively. "Look, Lardon…our main priority is the safety of the civilians. Go after them and get as many off this ship as you can. Me and the rest will-"

Whrsh-SHPLINK!

He froze in midsentence, the surprise still in his eyes as his mouth hung open, gushing with blood, with a blade protruding from his neck. He slumped forward onto the floor.

Lardon only had a moment of horrified silence, before a distant figure came into his field of vision.

The man stuck out completely among the Liberator Corps that surrounded him, probably because he was the only one without armor. He was a tall Russell Terrier in a tightened, yet neat bluish-gray uniform, complete with a crimson sash around his waist with a holster attachment. His shoulder armament were shaped in the pair of little silver wings, except they were flat and patterned like an insect's. His fur was sleeked and combed, as if his spare time consisted generally of keeping his appearance in order. His arm bad had the horridly recognizable "C" insignia similar to the one etched into the hull of the Peacekeeper, but the small silver badge on his uniformed chest mirrored the dreaded skull symbol on the Liberators' armor. His officer's hat was perched firmly on his head, and he wore long, black sleek boots that came up to his knees, and made a scrunch-squeak noise when he walked.

But his face made Lardon's blood boil most of all. His eyes were a viridian shade of green that reminded him of a sickeningly-sweet poison, and his lips curled tartly when he talked. The icy smile on his slick face put it in a seemingly permanent expression of cold smugness, like the mercenaries attacking him were like some kind annoying but amusing pets that were misbehaving, and could use a decent punishment.

The Liberator Officer regarded Lardon's expression before addressing a nearby soldier. "Captain, give the order to our men to resume pursuit of our targets. But first, take care of these mercenary scum. And don't be quick about it….the slower they die, the more they will learn."

"Yes, sir," The Liberator near him murmured in a monotone. He didn't look any older than Lardon, but his expression read that he was uncomfortable, like he really didn't want to be here.

"Actually…" The Officer smiled cruelly. "Keep a few alive…and escort them with you when you reach the passengers, and then kill them. I'd like it so that they get a taste of the deaths that they will receive. The fear will be a good dose for them."

Lardon's jaw dropped in horrified shock. He's going to kill civilians?

The soldier looked at the Officer, almost nervously, almost confused at what he was hearing. "Kill them? But...sir...?"

"Maybe...I didn't make myself clear." The Officer didn't turn to look at him, but the corner of his mouth was upturned in quiet anger.

"But..." The Liberator's look faltered. "They're common passengers...they have children...there has to be a mistake...surely there's some kind of imprisonment we could give...some kind of warning...?"

"Warning?" The Officer said tartly. "Let me see...when our superiors issued the Transportation Act, or maybe when the penalty for all illegal immigration was passed...one should recieve enough warning from that, wouldn't you think?" He curled his gloved hand into a tight, knuckle-cracking fist, and his eyes gleamed mercilessly.

The Liberator looked down humbly.

"They've had their warning, Captain. Anyone, or anything that doesn't heed the law the first time must be made an example of. They're traitors, filth, pestilence, they fall in the league with the Venomians...and for being equally treacherous, they shall be equally dealt with. As will all who defend them." He eyed the Liberator maliciously. "Now deal with them."

The soldier avoided the Officer's cold gaze and marched off, trudging in almost a guilty way.

"I'll be sure to have that boy punished when we get back," The Officer muttered to himself, as if making a mental note. "His thoughts are spreading farther and off task than I prefer to allow."

Then, his gaze returned back to Lardon, and his cold smile returned.

"Oh yes….do forgive me for ignoring you. You must be the leader of this little group aren't you? How quaint…and here I was thinking that I was cutting through worthless scum for nothing…still…I hope you out up a better fight than they did…."

He looked back and Lardon saw a familiar body lying next to the smoking hole in the wall where they had entered…a bruised, bloodily battered corpse, with an expression frozen in fear and final confusion. Jeremiah…right before he was about to deliver the scream that would never leave his mouth…

Lardon bared his teeth and fixed a burning gaze onto the smug Officer, rage building with every breath….

"There were times I didn't expect to be fighting mercenaries again…and yet here I am, fighting the same, filthy, foul, mediocre pestilence. Even after five years, hapless fools like you don't seem to get the message. But you know what the difference is this time? You aren't putting up a fight like the generation before you. Look at you…laying there, amongst the dead, weak and pathetic….at least the ones before you held whatever pitiful unlawful standard…and on top of that, you sneak sniveling little illegal immigrants on your ship and not only assume you won't be caught, but also defend them? You and that ludicrous Captain Nelson are asking to be reduced to ash and blood, just like those passengers."

"AAARGHH!"

With a roar of fury, Lardon grabbed a rocket launcher from a dead mercenary and fired three thoughtless missiles at the Officer.

THWOOOM!

THWOOOM!

THWOOOM!

The Officer, right as the missiles were zooming at him, had just enough time to curl his lip contemptuously, and wrench a surprised Liberator from near him and thrust him in front of himself, using him as a human shield.

FWERAAAAASH!

The explosion blasted a wave of flames past the black-armored Liberator's body, and swept back on the sides, causing surrounding soldiers to back away.

As the flames swept away, Lardon saw the figure in the clearing smoke of the Liberator, dangling a few inches of the ground in the Officer's grip, a smoking dent in the middle of the tough breast-plate on his chest. His eyes lingered and fell into unconsciousness, since although the missile didn't kill him, the impact hook through his armor and paralyzed him instead.

CLUMP!

The Officer flung the body aside like a sack of bricks, standing unimpressed before the smoking crater made by the explosion. Apart from some smolder on his uniform, he was completely unharmed.

Lardon tossed his empty rocket launcher aside and charged angrily at the Officer, drawing his knife from the side compartment on his jacket.

SLAM!

He rammed into the Officer boldly, but the trained Russell Terrier smirked and grabbed a hold of his wrist. Lardon struggled under his grip furiously, but his steely fist seemed impenetrable.

"Typical mercenary filth," The Officer sneered. "Always relying on hot blood and instinct instead of numbers or strategy like a true soldier."

"Don't talk to me about fighting like a soldier, you heartless son of a bitch!" Lardon spat. "I know what kind of coldblooded scum you are…" His eyes gleamed with newfound hatred. "You're the exact kind that murder innocents on the streets like strays….that compile bodies and incinerate them like waste in a landfill! The kind that killed my brother…"

The Officer's eyes glinted with cold pleasure. "So it's revenge you're here for? Well, you'll learn that justice comes before blood relation in this galaxy, even over your pathetic brother. Perhaps you should've taught him a lesson about law and persecution, or killed him yourself."

Lardon yelled in anger and heaved his entire weight on his opponent, but the Officer drew a knife from his own belt and swung the Beagle around by his arm, and slashing out.

Shlrrth!

Lardon wrenched from the Officer's grapple and slid back, biting his teeth at the sting from the knife-wound on his cheek.

The Officer laughed maliciously, his voice sounding like the ripples through water an eel makes when it swims.

"HA! So…the going rate for outlaws these days are common imbeciles like you? It's almost so sad it's hilarious." He ran the dull edge of his blade over his fingers. "I've killed so many mercenaries, but I'm sure even lowly scum like them would be ashamed to know a name like yours stains their profession…"

Lardon clutched his knife. I may be a mercenary, but at least my activities don't involve killing the innocent…

"Speaking of which…what is your name, boy?"

Lardon raised his knife and positioned himself into a fighting stance. "Lardon. Lardon Birmingham."

"Birmingham?" The Officer's smile waded. "I've heard that name…or seen it rather…some record of prisoner count…but that was a different one…that was a Clemens Birmingham…"

"Clemens?" Lardon eyes shone. He gripped his knife tighter. He knows my brother…?

"Oh….now I see…" The colds smile slithered back onto the Officer's lips. "That was your brother? I can see the resemblance…"

Lardon was deadly still. His eyes were wide. How did this man know about his brother? Unless he was the one who…?

His heart raced frantically.

The Officer's look was now more sickeningly triumphant than ever. "What a reunion this is…the first scum I meet that puts up a fight turns out to be Clemens Birmingham's brother…how ironic…" He smiled cunningly.

"What do you know about my brother?" Lardon said quickly.

"Didn't you know? Young Clemens was under my authority when he was captured. Oh yes…I captured him personally. And dealt with him as I saw fit…"

"No…" Lardon shook his head, as if refusing to believe what he was hearing.

"Yes…" The Officer said winningly, knowing he had the advantage in his emotions now. "I remember now…he had robbed a food carrier…and he had been caught. My squad asked for my permission to imprison him. But I knew better…I knew what punishment he needed…" He curled his lips evilly. "Yes…imprisonment wouldn't be enough….one must always learn the lesson the first time. And besides…I would feel cheated if I didn't kill him at least…I wouldn't be doing my duty, or at least any to my own amusement."

"NO!" Lardon yelled and charged again.

He flailed his knife and stabbed in the direction of the Officer's throat, but he dodged expertly and brought the butt of his own onto his back.

CLUNK!

Lardon fell about on the floor, grunting at the blow to his spine. But as soon as his body hit the floor, he rolled to the side and got onto his feet.

"HAAAH!"

He yelled as he jumped back up and swiped upwards with his knife. The Officer scowled and had just enough time to jump back as the blade ripped through the sash on his uniform.

Rrrip!

Lardon's blade was caught in the ripped folds of the sash, the other end still buttoned to the Officer's uniform. The Officer sneered and yanked on the sash, pulling Lardon forward.

KRAK!

He kneed Lardon savagely into the stomach, sending him against the wall behind him on his back. He laughed nastily and drove his knife forward for the finishing blow.

He ducked quickly and brought his blade up to block the incoming stab.

SHIIING!

The blades scraped each other's razor-sharp surfaces before parting with a CLANG!

The two swung their blades at each other ferociously backing up or diving forward at the angle where their knives met.

SWISHAAAANG!

KLIIING!

WH-AKLANG!

As the battle raged on around them, Lardon drove the Officer to the middle of the hall, slashing at him with his knife.

The Officer sneered and swatted Lardon's blade away from his own, putting him open. He swung his knife upward, hooking the attack just enough for Lardon to barely side-step wake of the gleaming steel-

CHLRIIIITHHH!

Blood splattered just in front of Lardon's face before he heard a groan nearby him. He looked next to him to see the Officer's blade protrude from the throat of mercenary that had been killed in his place behind him, all because of the lucky miss.

The Officer glared mercilessly at the mercenary like he was an inconvenient stick of gum on the bottom of his boot, before shoving him off the blade.

Lardon snarled furiously and slammed right into the Officer in a locking shoulder lunge, knocking the blade out of his hand.

He ripped through the air with his blade and twirled his blade into an ice-pick grip, but instead of stabbing downward, he brought the pommel upwards, mashing into the Officer's jaw.

The Officer staggered back with a snarl of pain and surprise, but he was open. Lardon swapped the blade from his right hand to his left and slashed the blade across his uniformed chest.

SWLLLLRTHHH!

Blood flew from the cut on his chest and the Officer fell to the ground in a muffled heap on his stomach. His body went limp, and stopped moving.

Lardon stood over his body for a moment, panting in the heat of the battle's aftermath. Blood trickled from the cut on his cheek and slipped into his lips, giving him a sample of its salty, rustic taste.

He turned and walked away.

Suddenly, a muffled sound of movement echoed behind him.

Before Lardon could turn around the Officer grabbed the knife from him and plunged it into his shoulder with a triumphant yell.

SPLRNTCH!

"Gaaaargh!" Lardon screamed in pain and grasped his shoulder, but the Officer only drove it in deeper.

The Officer had faked his own death. He chuckled wickedly and clutched the driven-in knife with both hands. "You put up quite a fight for a dirty little amateur, boy. But in the end you're just like your brother…. a mediocre, worthless, easily squashed insect. It's even more pitiful that you died exactly as he did…at the hands of justice."

SWISH!

He pushed him onto the ground, where Lardon clutched his impaled shoulder, blood seeping out of it as he paled and winced, his eyes shut and teeth clenched in pain.

The Officer stood victorious over him, his shadow engulfing him dauntingly. "You as a mercenary act as a sickening pustule in the eyes of the law. And as such, you're going to die a traitor's death, along with Nelson, as well as the rest of these illegal wretches and their spawn."

Lardon gasped painfully and looked up, his vision shaking.

A Liberator walked over, rifle in hand.

The Officer sheathed his knife. "Kill this one for me. I don't wish to dirty my uniform with his detestable stench. Report to me with the body when you're done with him."

The Liberator cocked his rifle and raised it.

BLAM!

A blue laser-blast reflected off the Liberator's armor. The soldier looked down in surprise to se Lardon holding smoking blaster he had kept concealed, his other hand on the ground hosting his body up to a level of defense.

The Officer laughed brutally. "You still fight in the face of your own death? You," He addressed the soldier. "Don't use your rifle. Kill him slowly. A defiant lawbreaker of his caliber deserves a painful death, yes?"

The Liberator grinned viciously and dropped his gun, stretching his gauntleted fists.

Lardon hobbled back on his hand pitifully, his other arm shakily holding the blaster up.

Ker-SNAKK!

The Liberator kicked the blaster out of Lardon's hand and pressed his foot down cruelly onto his throat, choking him mercilessly with the bottom sole of his boot.

"Kler-kkaak—chh!" Lardon struggled, garbling some choked out sounds as he tried to wriggle under the foot.

"Yes, that's right, struggle, you rat!" The Officer cackled. "Soon you will be dead, and your head will be hung on the bottom of our ship for the galaxy to see! All will watch you rot and will learn from it the consequence for treachery against the divine laws!"

"Ga—aach! My death-hich-will only bring more-you'll-gasp-be ripped apart-along with your mast-errkkch!" Lardon rasped haggardly.

"HA!" The Officer laughed wildly. "You like your allies believe that someone stronger will always appear in the end. No one can defy us! The galaxy and every man, woman, and child exists to be the subject of our law. Even the great Star Fox Team fell before our will. Who, if not they, has any chances of defeating us?"

!

The Liberator standing over Lardon only had time to look up and notice an angled crack in the center of the ceiling, before it grew with small crunching noises. It was only when it simply blasted apart that he came to his senses and stepped away from under the ceiling barge's wake. Then, the entire ceiling came apart.

Huge clumps of rubble and plastered ship construction smashed apart as the cracks ran down the ceiling and shattered like ice under weight of a massive fist. Dust exploded from the spot on the wall, and light streamed in through the smashed-open hole in the ceiling. Lardon didn't have time to register what was going on when a dark, blurring shape came down like a shadow and soared down through the hole like a wisp of curling smoke. It rained down to the ground before…

SLAAAAAAAMMM!

The shape propelled down onto the floor like missile, the impact of it smashing against the ground sending up a small but spreading shockwave through the battered hall. The Officer recoiled with a hissing curse as dust clouds flooded over in piling masses over him, the soldiers, and Lardon, who had to shield themselves from the waves of smoke. The Beagle felt the dust sting his eyes and the tremendous wind sweep against his skin. He looked away, the crashing sound ringing in his ears like the impact of a meteor smash.

It was only when the dust cleared, when a long, fluttering black wave swirled from over the tops of the dust clouds. Lardon realized that it was the end of a long, whirling black overcoat, attached to the back of an outline of a figure. The new arrival was crouched on one knee in the small crater of cracks and debris that he had created, one fist planted on the ground in the wake of his landing.

The Officer's lip rose over a fang cynically, as if wondering with unimpressed amazement who had turned up now.

Lardon looked deeper through the barrier of dust and saw a lowered face, concealed in the shadows, with closely-cut cheek fur and long, pointed ears. He would have taken him for an Agent, what with his dress and entrance, but this newcomer was different.

Then he saw it. The gleaming, fierce, glaring purple eye snap open.

Lardon's eyes widened. What the hell…?

The figure rose, and the face revealed a tough but roguishly handsome dark face, with a scrapped eyepatch.

The Beagle blinked confusedly. Purple eyes…eye-patch…did he know this description? No…definitely not. That was just a legend. He was no child.

Every other bystander in the room, Liberator and mercenary alike, shared the same stunned and even amazed expression. No one knew on which side this person was on…or if he was a dominant threat or an ally.

Wolf rose from his crouched position, towering over Lardon with his ominous height. He had finally arrived, hearing the sounds of battle on his way to the hangar.

His ears twitched as he looked around the room, inspecting the competitors of this battle.

And nothing impressed him.

"Tch." He switched his long Claw, which gleamed through the swiveling dust mites around him, and heaved his blaster on his shoulder in a bored manner. "I can't even describe how disappointing this is. I hear somebody blasting the living crap out of this place, and both groups look like shit."

He glanced unimpressed at the Liberators.

Seriously…what the hell is this?

One side is just like the other, only dressed better and packing heavier heat…

He looked through the yellow-glass face-shields of the soldiers, and eyed the other side of fighters, glancing at their canine snouts.

But that doesn't change the fact that they're both the same generic Cornerian crap…

"What's this?" The Officer stood up, glaring suspiciously at Wolf. "Who the hell are you?"

Wolf smiled cunningly. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"You're obviously not with us…and you're no passenger….you're illegally armed…" He eyed his blaster with distaste. "Who are you? Are you here to help these pathetic mercenaries?"

"Mercenaries?" Wolf turned and looked around. Then his eyes fell on Lardon.

Lardon clenched his fists, as if prepared for a fight he was suspecting to arouse from him. He still had no idea who Wolf was…

Wolf's eyelid dropped. "You have got to be shitting me. These are the mercenaries aboard this ship? They don't like they'd be separated from the usual Cornerian morons…and they call themselves mercenaries? Jesus…"

He looked at the scattered bodies and charred blaster marks all over the place.

What kind of mercenary group leaves behind this much rubble and trail from just an escort mission? Did the whole 'do the job quickly and easily' trend die, or something?

This looks like a freaking war zone….nothing but bad leadership and pathetic holding off…

He raised an eyebrow skeptically. Even Fox can do a better job than these rookies…

"Well, whatever," He turned with resigned sigh. "Can't expect army jarheads to do a clean mercenary job. Still…walking into the enemy like this? They were asking to be shot…"

Click.

"Excuse me, sir," The Officer said with a curl of his lip, smugly holding up a blaster. "But I am in command here. Normally I only interrogate bystanders…but you seem to be a little bit too involved in this….now I'll ask you again. What is your name and business on this ship?"

"My name and business isn't something I throw around, unlike you and your fat-ass mouth," Wolf retorted coldly. "And don't spew garbage about you being in command, because I know you aren't. You don't look like anything but an Officer of some kind, who likes bigger but dumber subordinates to do your dirty work for you. No…you aren't the leader of that ship outside. You're too small and weak."

"Very bold and very foolish to insult a high-ranking Official in the Liberator Corps, let alone point a blaster at one." The surrounding soldiers eyed him nervously, apparently not sharing his confidence in the wake of Wolf's arrival. The steely glare in Wolf's eye was actually making them wish their Leader would just step down… "I could give my men authority to kill you in an instant. Illegal posession of a blaster has already bought you that. But I'm afraid you aren't the reason I'm here…it is their blood I'm here to claim, not yours." He eyed a fixed, almost greedy look at Lardon. "So step aside, civilian. It would be a shame if I killed you in the process."

Tch…as if he could kill me….

"Sorry to disappoint you...but the only blood that will be spilled in here…" His purple eyes glinted dangerously. "…will be yours if come within a foot of these men."

The Officer stood there, rooted in the spot for a moment. Then he laughed. "Ha! So you are here to protect them…how noble. It seems that I was wrong. People still have a sense of patriotism and righteousness after a-"

"Shut your ass up." Wolf glared at the Officer, cocking his blaster as he avoided the gaze of the mercenaries behind him. "I'm not here to protect these weaklings. I don't give two shits if they live or die. If it were any other day, I'd probably kick their asses myself. But I'm not here for that. I'm here because I make it a point to kill foul arrogant scumbags who pick fights that they can't finish...just like you. Because…" Click! He gripped his blaster, his piercing stare locked onto him. "Whatever I don't kill today, I'll wind up killing more slowly and painfully tomorrow."

The Liberators all exchanged anxious glances with each other. They could tell that he wasn't messing around. The concrete enforcement of his voice was already making them feel like weak little children in their armor.

The Officer said nothing. His expression was difficult to read, but his narrowed eyes gave off that he wasn't used to this kind of resistance. Then, his face etched and an oily smile drew from his lips. "Not bad…not bad at all. You seem strong…yes….and I think I could use someone like you…"

Wolf scowled. What the hell…?

Is he seriously thinking that he can bribe me into his service?

If I refused to join Andross, what the hell makes him think that I'll join HIM?

"You know…I think you could be of great use to the Liberator Corps…someone of your caliber could do quite well in the hands of our government. Who knows…? Maybe I'll forget all about your treacherous behavior…How about we discuss this in a civilized manner? I believe we can come to an agreement…since I believe you know how much value can come out of our service, rather than the aid of mere rebels and civilians that are doomed to die anyway…" He glanced coldly at the mercenaries. "I can put in a good word for you for my master. He values men who know how to play by the winning side."

Wolf hesitated. He let his breath seethe out of him like steam out of a kettle Then he smiled, going with it. "You sound like a man who likes to negotiate…who can listen to a proposition…"

"Yes." The Officer smiling oily, looking triumphant. "I can."

SHWA-THOOM!

The sudden echo caused everyone to look up, as a green blast flew through the air from Wolf's pistol. The Officer's eyes widened for a moment before there was a flash and a bang behind him.

The blast had been purposely shot to just narrowly miss the Officer's cheek, leaving a smoldering mark in the wall behind him, as well as a grazing red burn on his cheek from where the shot had just barely missed, already starting to drip mildly with blood.

Wolf's deceiving smile melted back into its burning glare, his gaze adjacent from the smoking barrel of the blaster he was holding up. "Here's my proposition. How's about you get the fuck out of my way before everyone in this room finds out how many holes I can fit in your face with my blaster before I send your pathetic corpse up your 'master's ass!"

Click! Click! Click!

Every soldier surrounding their superior raised their rifles, all pointing them in Wolf's direction.

The Officer clasped his cheek furiously. "You will regret this foolishness, you impudent scum!" He hissed to the men around him. "Liberators! Kill this upstart and preserve his body. I'd like to see how smug he looks when his head is hanging below the Peacekeeper!"

Before anyone could pull a trigger, Wolf pulled a silver canister from behind his back and flung it at the ceiling.

Clink!

PSSSSSHHHHHHHH!

As soon as the small canister hit the ceiling, puffs of greenish smoke began to curl and wisp down to the ground, covering the Liberators and the entire lower end of the hallway in stun gas.

The Officer's figure started to diminish behind the fogging gas as he clutched his mouth and began to splutter. "Hurgch!-Kill him! –cough-KILL HI-"

His sentence was soon drowned out by his own gagging noises, as his shape disappeared from view beneath the atmosphere of gas.

BRUNNNABRUNNNANNNA!

The golden laser blasts from the Liberators' rotating rifles shot from behind the gas cloud. Wolf stepped aside and dodged the blasts expertly, acknowledging them without interest, before the Liberators disappeared behind the gas as well.

He sneered in the direction of the fog.

Wow…

It's almost like everywhere I go, I end up killing or protecting the same weak Cornerian crap…

He then took notice of Lardon, who was still sitting perplexed behind him.

Wolf swept his coat behind him and walked forward. From Lardon's perspective, he looked tall and demeaning, the flickering hallway lights illuminating the side of his face and exposing the purple eye, while leaving the other side encased in shadow.

Lardon's heart pumped frantically. He reached out slightly for his blaster rifle behind his back…

Click.

"Don't even think about it." Wolf's voice rang from across the hall.

Lardon clenched his teeth angrily and placed both hands on the top of his head.

Wolf lowered his blaster. "Now…first off, who's the leader here, and second, you got any ammo on you?"

Lardon looked up with disbelief at Wolf's casual tone. "Do you have any idea how insane that was?"

Wolf blinked. "What?"

"You just insulted and challenged the entire Liberator Corps! Are you trying to get yourself killed? There's no way in hell you'll-"

"That's a fine way of thanking me for not killing you off, kid," Wolf said. "Much less stick up for you." Fssh! Wolf opened up the reloading compartment of his blaster and tugged out the empty blaster clip. "Are all the mercenaries nowadays as ungrateful as you?"

"Look, you don't understand…there's too much at stake right now…there are civilians on this ship…"

"Civilians?" Wolf eyes lit up alertly, remembering the people he had seen on the Observatory Deck. "Where are they?"

"Seven or eight hundred of them…fleeing to room 311B…that's the Escape Pod Bay…we were the only thing standing between them and the Liberators, and…" He tried to avoid the look of the mercenary corpses around him.

"You ran straight into them….shit…" Wolf cursed.

"Listen….you're strong enough to take on these guys, right?" Lardon asked hopefully. "Look….you gotta get them there safely…if the Liberators catch up to them-"

Wolf clenched his fists. "Listen, kid. I've got enough on my hands already. All I'm here for is to get off this ship in one piece. None of those people are my problem, got it? I didn't ask for any of this, and it's not my business to get involved!"

The light of hope dimmed from Lardon's eyes. He looked down helplessly.

Wolf cursed under his breath and slid his blaster's barrel back into place. Click.

"However…" Wolf talked through gritted teeth. "It also isn't my place to let all this go on and do nothing." He sighed with a reluctant look. "The Escape Pod Bay, was it?"

Lardon looked up. "Yes. But please hurry…there are families…they need to be kept together so that they can all escape safely…"

Wolf glanced at the gas cloud behind them, wondering how long it would last before the soldiers would come through. "Fine. But I know I'm going to regret this."

He stood up and whistled. "Hey, Leon!"

A dark shape swooped from the ceiling from inside the gas cloud and landed near them, almost out of nowhere.

Lardon's jaw dropped.

Wolf rolled his eyes. "Nice entrance. Could you show off anymore?"

Leon scowled. "I'm the one with the flashy entrance? I'm not the one who put the eight-foot deep crater in the floor! At least I don't wreck private property wherever I go. You and Falco seem to have that problem."

Wolf tried not to crack a smile. "Would you just shut up? Jesus… Anyway, looks like we aren't getting off this ship till everyone else does. The last thing we need is a bunch of panicking people cling on to us on our way out. So I need you to escort them to the escape pods safely."

"Yeah, since I'm so good with kids being me and all," His eyes became sarcastic for a second. "What about you?"

His eyes glinted dangerously. "I'll take care of the soldiers."

Lardon shook his head. "You won't be able to take them alone. You'll need help. I can…" He winced mid-sentence and clutched his splattered soldier.

Wolf looked away. "You aren't going to be any use to anybody as long as you're wounded. There's nothing more burdensome than a wounded soldier who's stuck on playing the hero on rotting injury."

"But the soldiers….they're equipped with armor and advanced weapons….there practically invincible!"

"He's not lying Wolf," Leon said. "I came in here undetected and tried killing the bastards myself. My knife couldn't get through one layer of that armor. I struck one soldier five times in the same spot, and he didn't even budge. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to try to cut someone up and they don't even scream? That's bullshit!" He folded his arms and scowled, looking like a pouty little kid. "I feel like a guy with a chain-saw in a steel forest. I can't do shit."

"Relax, you psycho." Wolf pocketed his blaster. "First rule about armor: every kind has a weak spot."

"Even if you could get through that armor, they're still too many of them." Lardon looked uneasily in the gas's direction. "It wouldn't be an even match. Just suicide!"

Wolf smiled. "You know something, kid? That's the first true thing you've said. It isn't an even match….because there's just a squad of these guys. Not an entire army. If that were the case, then it would be a fair match." He flexed his claws. "And even then, I'm not so sure. Leon…get going. And while you're handling anybody's kids, don't sell them anything."

"Fun-sucker," Leon muttered.

Lardon glanced at them confusedly. "Sell them…what?"

"Only the best of the best vending the Lylat System has to offer!" Leon said, getting perked up. He made a gesture for his coat.

"Leon!" Wolf snapped warningly.

"Fine, fine!" Leon snarled, zipping his coat back up. "It's not like they know if it's legal or not. Jeez…"

He drew his switch-blade and sprinted off.

Lardon's brow furrowed, still unsure what had just happened. Then he glanced at Wolf.

"Um…just out of curiosity…who are you, anyway…?"

Wolf turned his back to him. "Like I said before. Not you, or anyone would believe me if I told you."

"All right then. Anyway…I never got to thank you…"

Wolf's ears perked up. Crap…

I see where this is going…

"You saved my life. Mine and the rest of everyone here's lives. That's very courageous for a complete stranger, and well, I can't emphasize how much I appreciate it. I know you must hear it a lot, but…"

Then, he looked up and the warmth that his sentence had been filled with diminished instantly. Wolf was eyeing at him in an intense stare of dangerous purple rile, quietly daring Lardon to continue.

"No," Wolf said coldly. "I don't get that a lot. In fact, I don't get it at all. You know why? Because I don't save people. I either kill them, or keep them alive long enough to serve a purpose for my benefit. Don't get the wrong idea about me, kid… I didn't come here with any intention of protecting you…and on any other occasion, I make it my business to kill every Cornerian that I see. But today, I'll overlook it. But I promise you…" He fingered his blaster dangerously. "I won't do it again."

Lardon cowered under Wolf's singeing stare. "Uh, right. Sorry…"

Wolf regarded the Beagle for a moment. Then he looked up sharply. "You!"

Looking confused for a second, Lardon looked around to see that Wolf was addressing a mercenary behind him, just recovering from unconsciousness.

Wolf barked impatiently. "Make yourself useful and get over here, now! Your Leader's wounded and needs attention! Take him to medical maintenance!"

The Mercenary huddled over with his head lowered. He didn't know who Wolf was, but his commanding voice and forceful tone kept him alert. He dragged Lardon to his feet.

Some other recovered mercenaries were watching nearby, sniggering at their comrade's struggling.

Wolf's gaze quickly found them. "You two! Don't just stand there, help him! Come on, move your asses! NOW!"

The two jumped to attention and rushed over to help their Leader.

Lardon watched in amazement as Wolf started to ram them all with harsh orders, quickly taking authority as if he were in charge.

"You two attend to this one's wounds. And when you're done, head down to the Escape Pod Bay 311B. Don't forget it: 311B. When you arrive, start loading all civilians professionally, and for the love of God, don't leave anyone behind. If you run into any…" He glanced at Lardon. "…Liberators, wasn't it? Then don't engage, just fall back as far as you can and keep the civilians safe. Now get going! Go on, MOVE!"

The other mercenaries nodded hurriedly and took off down the hall.

FSSHHHH!

Wolf's tall ears pricked as he turned at the sound of the wall of gas he had created starting to diminish.

Lardon turned to Wolf urgently. "They're filtering down the gas. They'll be through in a manner of seconds!" He turned to some of his aid. "You three stay and give him some assistance. I only need-"

"Order your men to stay behind," Wolf cut in promptly.

"What?" Lardon protested urgently. "But, you need-"

Click!

Wolf plucked an ammo clip from a dead soldier on the ground next to his feet and stuck it into his blaster. "Tell your men to stay out of this. This batch of stuck-up bastards are mine to kill…and I'd hate to kill some tag-alongs that got in my way unintentionally. If you know what's good for you, you'll get going." He loaded his blaster. "Because I can't promise anyone…or anything in this hall will be in one piece once I'm done with it."

He didn't wait to witness their shocked expressions. Wolf sprinted like a sprung missile into the deteriorating cloud of gas, his cloak-like coat disappearing along with him.

After a few minutes… (Once the gas clears)

The Liberators removed their gas-mask helmet-attachments and raised their rifles eyes darting around for any sign of Wolf.

Finally, stepping out of the deteriorating gas from silhouette to true form, Wolf emerged, fingering his blaster, but without any expression of fear or concern at the mob of surprised Liberators in front of him.

Even though the Liberators weren't used to anyone standing up to them so defiantly, they didn't restrain themselves from snorting stupidly at how vulnerable Wolf looked, with just his unprotected overcoat and inferior pistol.

The ugliest of them stepped forward and pointed a gauntleted, sausage-like finger at him. "Hey, you! You got no more gas to hide your puny little ass behind, ya weak little runt!"

Some of the surrounding soldiers burst into immature sniggers, obviously influenced by their comrade's confident jeering. Wolf stood still, his face unchanged with his relaxed expression.

Obviously not satisfied with Wolf's lack of aggression, the Liberator strutted forward and hauled his rifle on one shoulder. "Listen, runt. I'm in a fairly good mood, so I'll be nice. I'll give you a few seconds to start running and maybe we'll shoot you quickly instead of slowly like we normally do. We're willing to be nice to suicidal people, aren't we, boys?"

The others grinned and nodded idiotically.

Wolf's unimpressed eyes wandered from one soldier to the other, his tail flicking from side to side every other second. Then, he turned his back to them and stretched remotely, holding his blaster in one hand in front of him.

The Liberator pointed his gun at him. "Well, runt? Any last prayers or beg for mercy?"

Click.

Wolf drew back the top of the blaster, and let it slip back into place, his eyes closed. Then he opened them.

"I hope that armor isn't as expensive as it looks…" His eye opened slightly, his voice drawn in a casual but amused tone. "…because it's gonna smell like corpses when all this shit is over."

The Liberators small eyes darted from side to side, as if computing that meant. Then his heavy-set face scrunched up in fury. "FIRE AT HIM! NOW!"

Wolf sneered and reached for the collar of his coat.

The Liberators raised their weapons.

BRUNNNANNNANNANNANNNANAAA!

The amber-colored shots tore through the air as the rapid bursts of energy sent a swiveling hiss of smoke from each barrel of the rifles.

Whooosh!

There was the sound of the leather coat fluttering as a dark shape swooped into the air above them.

The Liberators heaved up their rifles and fired at it relentlessly.

BRUNNANNNANNA!

The golden blasts flew upwards in grouped streams, pounding the airborne shadow with round after round of blaster shots at the object in the air, quite sure that this was an easy victory…

Then, the firing stopped. Silence was restored to the hallway, save for the small Clink-Clink!s of empty blaster cartridges falling to the floor like abandoned bullets.

The Liberators looked up triumphantly only to be rewarded with baffled shock.

Falling through the air slowly, was the fluttering shape of the discarded overcoat, drifting down through the air from the top of the ceiling like a fallen leaf, light streaming through the smoking holes in the coattails caused by the gunshots.

But Wolf wasn't there. He had abandoned his coat, leaving it to take the damage.

The soldiers all looked around confusedly, until...

They all turned their chins farther back, their eyes huge.

Wolf was curled into a mid-air somersault, gliding feet above the ground. Without his black overcoat, he wore a brown leather vest trimmed with red. The flickering electric lights on the wall illuminated him into shadow that dragged over the now shrunken-looking Liberators. His arm crossed over his face while he cocked his blaster, his expression unidentifiable, but his gleaming purple eye still visible.

One by one, each soldier's mouth dropped in slow-motion as Wolf soared above them like a bird of prey. His feet coiled and his body spun in a whirling rotary sweep, till he let himself zoom down with one foot out, finding his mark over the last Liberator at the back of the group.

As Wolf came closer, the trembling mercenary tried to raise his rifle in a feeble attempt to shoot him out of the air.

BRUNNAN-!

KLAK!

Before even a few flashing shots could escape from the blaster's barrel that had slowly started to rotate, Wolf kicked it out of his hand with his boot heel.

SWOOOSH!

Wolf landed in front of him, his feet thudding lightly on the ground. The Liberator foolishly tried to react with a clumsily-aimed punch, but Wolf swung it aside mercilessly and spun back to send a blurring kick into his stomach.

SLAM!

The soldier gagged and stumbled backwards, but recovered quickly enough to draw his knife-

Wolf curled his hardened fist. Tch. Not a chance.

WA-PSSSSSSSHTRRRRCHHHH!

He bared his teeth as he slammed his crushing punch into the Liberator's face, the yellow-glass face-shield cracking from the devastating impact of Wolf's steel-like knuckle before shattering into flying shards that disintegrated in all directions.

The Liberator's face was still swerving backwards from the punch, when he snarled and cursed. "Damn you-!"

CLICK.

The soldier's eyes widened as he stared down the sleek barrel of Wolf's pistol, as he pressed it against his face.

The Liberator growled and made a lurch forward.

SHWA-THOOM-THOOM!

SHWA-THOOM!

The green shots flared like sparks from a fire as Wolf continued to jerk the trigger, the metal on the top of the gun jerking like a serpent, while the blasts barraged the soldiers face again and again. Whatever remains of the top portion of the face-shield was drenched in blood as holes burst into the soldier's face. Finally, Wolf let the smoking body fall over, before…

"HUAH!"

With a battle-born snarl, Wolf kicked the body upwards all the way until his own foot was parallel to the ceiling, sending it flying behind him. As soon as it left his foot, the body shot behind him with a shockwave like a human projectile colliding into the nearest group of Liberators.

KER-WAAAAAAM!

The collision from the body that had traveled at an eye-blurring speed exploded into them, sending a quake of airwaves and shattering the once-quiet atmosphere, the unfortunate soldiers flying in all directions like departing debris.

The airwave spread across the floor, Wolf's foot touching the ground just after it left the room as he landed. He whirled around and raised his smoking blaster at the stunned group of soldiers ahead, his eyes glimmering as if almost daring any of them to counter him.

The Liberators gaped at him for a few minutes. But it was only a matter of minutes before they regained their senses and replaced their fear with heated fury.

"You cocky bastard! SKIN 'IM!"

They latched their rifles on their backs by the straps and drew long combat knives from their thick armored belts and charged.

Wolf smiled through the corner of his mouth, exposing a sharp, gleaming fang.

Tch. They think swinging knives around like drunken retards that they've got better chances of killing me?

Morons….they should've stuck to the guns….

He raised his blaster.

SHWA-THOOM! SHWA-THOOM!

The green blasts flew at them but repelled off their black armor. The Liberators laughed triumphantly and kept running towards him.

Wolf frowned. He took some experimental shots to other typically vulnerable spots. The legs…the neck…the stomach…

SHWA-THOOM!

SHWA-THOOM!

The green shots just bounced harmlessly off the armor. The most the Liberator in front of him did was flinch back a bit, before flashing another ugly grin at Wolf.

"Nice try, tough shot, but that gun ain't gonna do shit!"

He raised his knife and took some waving slashes at him, snarling brutishly.

Wolf scowled and moved effortlessly from side to side, dodging the attacks easily while the soldier swung the blade again and again.

The soldier roared in frustration and swung the pommel towards Wolf's face.

CLAMP!

Wolf caught the blow in mid-swing, holding the butt of the knife with one hand away from his face, glaring defiantly at the soldier.

The Soldier, surprised and aggravated, pressed both hands on the knife, trying to force the pommel against Wolf's face, his grip shaking. But Wolf was blocking the blow with just one powerful hand, his other in his pocket. No matter how much weight the Liberator put with his armor, Wolf's stance remained straight.

"Pitiful wuss," Wolf spat contemptuously. "What coward hides behind bullet-proof armor? To afraid you'll cut yourself during a fight?"

At least when I wore that coat during the Lylat Wars, it only protected my chest.

But these cowardly little weaklings cover themselves head to toe with that armor….they're just making themselves look even weaker…

Huh. He shoved the pommel out of his face with one hand, causing the Liberator to stumble back.

They're not even worth killing….just a damn waste of time…

The Liberator flashed his knife's gleam in Wolf's direction. "You little shit…what the hell do you know about battle? You're just some mercenary scum!"

"I know the difference between fighting like a man and crawling behind a shield like a sniveling bitch," Wolf retorted coolly.

"ARGH!" The Liberator gave an infuriated shout and swung his knife up and down.

SHING!

The blade's point just whistled over the surface of Wolf's jacket, missing the fabric by a few inches.

Wolf spun back and launched a kick in the Liberator's face, sending him flying back and sprawling against the floor.

The Liberator cursed as he sent him a glowering look of fury from behind his cracked face-shield, which was splattered with blood from his cracked nose. He leapt back up and swung his knife at Wolf with full force.

KER-CLANG!

A shower of singeing sparks illuminated Wolf's face as he blocked the scraping blade with his gleaming Claw, before slashing it upwards and knocking the knife out of the soldier's hand.

For a moment the Liberator looked petrified, but soon he confidently balled his gauntleted fists together, obviously counting on his solid armor for an advantage. He took off in Wolf's direction.

"HA!It's all over, you idiot! There's no way in hell that you'll be able to cut me with th-"

SHERRANG-SPLRTTCH!

There was a flash of steel and air-shattering repulse, as he dived forward like a predator and swung the soldier's blow away with a swipe of his fist and plunged his Claw into his stomach. The razor-sharp point broke through the black armor effortlessly, cracking through it as if it were thin and fragile ice, shards of the chest-plate flying apart and blood surging from underneath.

The Liberator stared at Wolf in outraged disbelief, blood drowning his mouth. "Sh…shiih-tt-no…kach…way…!"

"Tch." Wolf locked a glare with the soldier. "You can pack on as much armor as you want. It won't change the fact that you're a weak waste underneath."

SLNNK!

He wrenched his Claw from his stomach, and the soldier fell to the floor with a clump!

The other soldiers stood there gaping at Wolf. They had never seen anyone stand up to them, let alone fight back. But this….this was a whole different story. Without armor, without even a gun Wolf had cleaved through this soldier's armor like he was a stalk of wheat. A chaingun and shuttle turret couldn't penetrate that armor, but his blade could?

Wolf pointed his blood-flecked Claw at the other Liberators.

"Well?" He said in an impatient tone. "What's it gonna be? Are you lot going to make the same mistake he did and spew shit…" He gave a resentful glance at the body. "Or are you gonna do the smart thing and back it up with strength?"

The Liberators stood motionless for a moment. Then one spoke up.

"C'mon, boys! Don't waste your time killing this son of a bitch with knives! Just gun him down!"

They all sheathed their knives and raised their rifles.

Typical. Wolf thought. They're too weak to force me into actual combat, so they pull out the guns like cheap scumbags.

Classic Cornerian crap. The nostalgia's unbelievable…

Wolf charged before any of them could pull their triggers.

He leapt onto a Liberator, who foolishly raised his gun but to dazed with surprise to fire. He brought it up as a shield-

CLANG!

Wolf slammed his Claw against the rifle in mid-air, than swooped back into a back-flip.

KLAAAM!

Wolf let out a snarl as he kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backwards in a trail of smoke and into the wall. CRASH!

Another soldier charged at him with a yell, swinging his rifle as a makeshift club.

Spinning his Claw in his hand that made a glinting effect in the light across its steel surface, Wolf blocked the swing with amazingly quick reflex. Sparks bled from the spot where the steel grazed the surface of the rifle's barrel. Wolf swung the Claw up, knocking the rifle away from his direction and drove the Claw into his neck.

"Hah!" Wolf, with his Claw still embedded in the Liberator's throat, swung the body at the end into a nearby soldier.

SLAM!

There was the sound of armor splitting and bones snapping as Wolf crushed the soldier with the body at the end of his blade like a mace, knocking both into a crumpled heap.

He whirled around and sprinted towards another group of soldiers.

SWA-SHING!

KAAANG!

SHRIIING!

Jet-like blurs of flashing steel tore through the air as Wolf came nearer and closer to the spectator's field of vision like a reappearing demon. Blood streamed out of each soldier's shoulder and chests like crimson geysers, before being kicked or punched out of the way by Wolf's bone-crushing fists.

BRUNNNANNNANNA!

Golden blaster shots ripped past Wolf's body, who nearly dodged them too late to catch a glimpse of a far off Liberator firing his rifle from a safe range.

Wolf growled and jumped upwards near the wall. Feet sprinting over the wall's vertical surface for a fraction of a second, he propelled off the wall like a missile and dove straight for the soldier.

KURRRCHHH!

Wolf plummeted onto him, wrapping his legs around his neck in a scissor-lock, before jumping up.

WHOOOSH!

Wolf somersaulted in the air, the soldier still locked between his legs, before he unhooked his legs and launched the soldier like a human projectile into the nearest cluster of Liberators.

CRAAAASH!

The ground thundered in a gravel-ripping shockwave on the floor, as the soldiers exploded in all directions like shards of glass from a shattered glass.

Wolf landed on the palm of his hand before flipping over, twirling his Claw in his hand and wielding it with the blade running up his forearm.

Pitiful….even Star Fox isn't this weak…

But that's not saying much…

Then his ear twitched as he heard the rattle of footsteps from behind….and the clacking of an ammunition magazine.

He kicked his feet off the ground and leapt backwards in the air.

BRUNNNANNANNA!

The streaming golden shots just grazed the edges of Wolf's boots as he flipped over the Liberator firing under him. He pressed both hands on the pommel of his Claw and plunged it down as he dove downwards.

CLANG!

The Liberator had just enough time to side-step out of the way, and the dagger-like end of the Claw was buried into the ground.

Wolf looked up with an irritated bare of his teeth. The Liberator charged and swung his rifle like a mace.

"Hrrargh!" Wolf growled as he flipped back onto his feet.

CLAK! THWUKK!

Wolf dashed backwards on his feet, blocking the incoming swings and blows with his wrists and the back of his hands like a fist-fighter.

He snarled and leapt and delivered a pulsing kick in the soldier's shoulder. SLAM!

The soldier staggered back at the ferocity of the kick, and Wolf closed in and curled his fists.

SNAKK-RRK!

PLTNCH!

Wolf swung his fists in devastating and blazing punches, one smashing into the yellow glass of the Liberator's face-shield after the other like shots from a shotgun.

Stunned from the ramming punches, the Liberator tried to swing the rifle at Wolf's head.

Wolf dropped to one knee and slid on the ground past him. Whirling his hand into a chop he stood behind him and struck him at the back of his neck.

The soldier yelled in pain and tried to swing his rifle around, but Wolf swatted it away and swung upper-cut kick at his jaw, causing him to stumble back.

He then stepped back and kicked the Claw out of the ground with the toe of his boot. WA-PAANG!

The Claw gleamed in the air for a moment before landing in Wolf's hand. He stabbed it into the Liberator's arm.

The soldier bawled in agony and tried to drive his rifle towards him. Wolf caught the soldier's hand, but his finger was already on the trigger.

BRUNNNANNANNAA!

The yellow shots pounded at the ceiling as Wolf wrestled the Liberator, one hand pushing against the struggling hand that aimlessly waved the rifle and the other holding the claw embedded into his arm.

Wolf spun around him and jerked the stabbed arm behind his back with a CRACK!, and kicked him in the shin, forcing him to bend over. He held up the arm clutching the rifle with his other hand, pointing it at the surrounding soldiers.

Let's see how their armor holds up against their own weapons.

Wolf forced the soldier's arm in the direction of the other Liberators. The soldier was bent over and trying to fight back, but had was clutching the trigger at Wolf's disposal, which Wolf waved around like he was the one holding the rifle.

The surrounding soldiers couldn't believe what they were witnessing. Wolf was using one of their own soldiers like a turret.

BRUNNNANNNANNA!

The blazing yellow energy bursts flashed in front of Wolf as he wielded the rifle-no, the arm of the soldier that was holding the rifle- blasting away at the crowd of soldiers around him, the recoil of the rapid fire shaking the arm. Liberators were blown back horizontal hail fire of laser blasts, their armor shredded into bits and blood exploding from constantly ripping holes stinging their bodies. Wolf didn't give any of them enough time to fire back. In groups they fell like fallen trees, their yells and groans drowned out by the hammering noise of the rifle.

The wave of streaming blaster shots swept through the crowd and putting smoking holes in the walls like from welding nail gun. Some Liberators had dove behind cover, realizing they couldn't stand up to Wolf as long as he had a blazing range. The blasts trailed after them in the cratered ground, making uproots of sparks just inches behind their feet.

BRUNNANNANNA-!

Finally, the humming of the rifle's rotating barrel came to a slow-down, until the echo sounded throughout the hall of its ammo-less final click.

Wolf's eyes darted around expectantly.

They all heard it….now they know I'm out of ammo…

The click of the barrel's empty magazine caused all the Liberators to dash from behind their covers.

"HE'S OPEN! GET HIM!"

Wolf watched as they charged forward, hauling their rifles up…like he knew they would.

He smiled, holding the soldier's body in front of him. They all thought that now, he didn't have a weapon. That this was their chance, that he was vulnerable.

They couldn't have been any more wrong.

Flashing his white fangs daringly, welcoming them to challenge him, grabbed the soldier's body and tossed it in the air like a sack of flour.

"HEAAYAAAAH!"

Wolf's snarl rang across the room as he back-flipped ten feet into the air, a trail of coiling smoke following his feet from the pulsing kick he had delivered against ground. He spun acrobatically into the air and grabbed the mid-air soldier in front of him by the face. He pounded him down straight into the ground with the palm of his hand, slamming him by the face down into a ground-pound.

KERRRRRAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSHHHHH!

A huge shockwave tore through the atmosphere of the room, a devastating airwave cleansing the room with a waft of destruction equivalent to a giant dust tsunami. The Liberators didn't just hear the giant shockwave. They saw it. They saw the stratosphere-shattering repulse distort the air from where Wolf landed and pounded the soldier's body by his face. It split apart like a miniature supernova, uprooting the gravelly ground and ripping it apart from under their feet in a hurl of cracks, dust, and debris. The sound tore through their ears like an atomic explosion and swept them off their feet like trees caught in the wake of a whirling tornado. They hit the walls and slammed against the ground as if they were as light as pebbles, being thrown around effortlessly like they were in a massive blender. A huge dust wave spread across the hall like a sandstorm, moving unstoppably and blinding every soldier.

Finally, the repulsing shockwave died down, and all that was left was a fog of dust that made it visually impossible for the soldiers to see in front of themselves.

And what was worse, Wolf was nowhere to be seen.

The Liberators, trapped in this massive dust fog that was impossible to navigate through, pointed their guns blindly around in the dust.

One soldier, his rifle shaking in his hands, breathed heavily, his terrified eyes darting around at the slightest noise or movement.

"SHOW YOURSELF, YOU COWARD! FIGHT FAIR!" He yelled into the fog around him.

"Fight fair?" a low voice replied.

The Liberator whirled around at the sound of Wolf's voice. But there was nothing there…

"You of all people are telling me to fight fair? Ha…as if you have any knowledge of what a fair fight is."

No one could tell where the voice was coming from, but it seemed to be mobile…moving around the indistinguishable fog, as if he were pacing.

"Tell me…where's the fairness in wearing laser-proof armor, and heaving a powerful gun like that?" Wolf drawled from somewhere in the dust. "And you don't even wield them against a strong opponent. You butcher the weak, like real cowards, because you know they can't stand up against you."

The voice sneered. It sounded too close…

Where was it coming from…?

"Well…you're going to see how it feels to be those people that you kill so effortlessly. You're going to fee their weakness, to feel trapped and helpless just like them…and see how 'strong' you really are…"

The Liberator, trying to locate the direction of Wolf's voice, yelled out into the dust some more. "So you're just going to kill us behind our backs when we can't see, when we can't fight back? Is that it?"

SHING!

There was the unmistakable sound of steel humming, and the Liberator whirled around, blaster raised.

Wolf, or at least a silhouette that resembled him, stood draped in dust and shadow. The only distinguishable things about him was the wicked gleam of his Claw, and glint of piercing purple eye.

"No. I won't stoop down to your pitiful level. I'm not the type that kills people when they don't know I'm there. No…you will know when I kill you, scum. You'll know…just like your victims did."

The Liberator yelled to the top of his lungs. "HE'S OVER HERE! KILL HIM!"

SHWI-SHEEENG!

HUANG!

TERRIIING!

BRUNNNANNANNANAA!

The Liberators fired around blindly in the dust cloud, their yellow bursts of laser energy lighting the field up like flames of a fire caught in a mist of smoke. The laser blasts all burst from different spots in the fog, indicating where a Liberator stood. But the only sign of Wolf was the blurring silver streak of Wolf's Claw. It tore through dust fog so fast that it seemed at one spot and everywhere at once, appearing half across the area for one second and then appearing in the opposite direction in another second. He moved so quickly that the soldiers' eyes could barely follow the movement of the flashing slices until they blurred right in front of their eyes.

Finally, the blurring sliver began to move in a specific direction and one Liberator tried to fire his blaster at it. But only when he raised his blaster did the stream of slashes disappear. The soldier's eyes glanced around, his eyes adjusting back to searching for an object in particular after being visually confounded by the multiple blurs that had blinded him previously.

HUA-SHAAANG!

The Liberator didn't see the strike coming. All he saw was the blinding gleam of silver in front of him and the flash of Wolf's eyes that seemed inches from him.

SHERRRAATCH!

There was a ripping sound and the Liberator fell at his feet.

FWOOSH!

Wolf jumped out of the giant dust cloud and into the vacant area of the hall, making an imprint in the smoke behind him, trailing off of his clothes. He stepped away from the whirling dust cloud and saw his black coat on the ground in front of him.

Fwwiiimph!

Wolf swooped the coat up and in a whirl, he whipped it over his shoulders and slipped his arms into it.

Then, his ears twitched. Someone was walking toward him.

Still keeping his back to the dust cloud, he turned his head slightly to see the Officer from earlier. That insufferable, smug smile was still on his face, and he looked almost completely unharmed, with the exception of the burn Wolf had etched onto his face with his blaster. He twirled his long knife casually, pacing in his long black boots.

"Not bad…not bad at all…" He drawled in a very sleazy tone. "Why, I'd say that that's the most entertainment I've gotten from this mission. You put up quite the show, for a common mercenary."

"You again?" Wolf glanced at him without interest. "You slunk off pretty fast. How's the burn?"

The Officer smiled. "Charming to the last hour. But your showy fighting ends here, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Wolf retorted. "I can't stick around, you know. As much as I love wiping the floor with weak little asses like yours, I'm actually a lot more interested in how many I can kill on my way off this ship."

"I'm afraid your only way off this ship is in a body bag." The Officer smiled cunningly.

He snapped his fingers.

CLICK!

CLICK!

The sound of multiple blaster magazine locks made synonymous clacking noises, as Liberators emerged from the smoke, their rifles all pointed at Wolf. But they weren't a new batch. They were the same ones Wolf had fought inside the dust cloud just a moment ago, only none of them were damaged. In fact, none of them were wounded at all. The only distinguishable thing about them now was that their armor had multiple cuts and tears in them from Wolf's Claw, fragments of mesh and plates hanging loose from holes and gashes made in them. But there was no blood. The strikes had just gone through the thick armor, but hadn't broken through the skin of any of them.

Wolf's eyes darted around the soldiers quickly, examining each of them.

The Officer laughed coldly. "Let me see….outnumbered…failed escape attempt…and failed effort to kill all the soldiers. This is almost exactly like the mercenaries we killed a few years ago. I can't tell you how much I missed cornering an outlaw like a hunted animal. But I must say…it's a lot more exciting this time, since you're putting up more of a fight than anyone else in the past. I saw what you were trying to do…through a veil of dust over the soldiers and kill them from within, right? Very clever. Unfortunately…" He pointed his knife at Wolf. "No matter how much of a fight you put in the end, you never were any match for us."

Wolf didn't answer. He just kept his eyes on the Officer while he talked, already analyzing how to take him down.

"Well, then…" The Officer held his knife up, like the signal for the soldiers to shoot. "I'm afraid the time for negotiation has passed. So, I'll make this simple. You can surrender and die quickly, or you can resist and die slowly. You've got quite a number of options to choose from."

Wolf sneered. "Sorry to disappoint you, but the only people who are about to take it to the ass are you all."

The Officer laughed, and the surrounding Liberators smiled brutishly in shared amusement.

"Look around, you idiot. You're surrounded. You've got no chance of escaping. You're already dead."

"Oh, I'm not going to escape just yet. I've got to send you all to hell first, since you all are right where I want you."

"I'm sorry," The Officer cut in with a sharp laugh. "But that seems to imply that you have the advantage here. You don't seem to realize that you're at the end of the hall."

"Exactly." He drew his blaster. "You think it's a coincidence that we ended up at a dead end? I drew you all here with that dust cloud. Now, there are less chances of me having to widen my range to kill you all…" His eyes gleamed dangerously. "…as well as the chances of any of you escaping."

"You have no chances of killing my troops," The Officer in a callous tone. "You barely cut through their armor. You didn't even strike deep enough to cut their skin!"

"You think I cut them to get through to their skin?"

Suddenly, the Officer's smile faltered slightly.

"I didn't blind them and take a chance to strike at them to pierce their armor to stab through their skin. I made cuts through their armor that would be deep enough to make openings in the armor. In other words…" He cocked his blaster. "I cut them to exposetheir skin…"

The Officer's smile melted completely. A sudden look of outrage gripped him, just realizing the danger they were in. "FIRE, YOU FOOLS! FIRE NOW-!"

But Wolf was too quick. With his back still turned, he held up his blaster with his right hand, over his left shoulder with his head slightly turned in their direction. The loud, thunderous tones of his blaster shots rang across the room.

SHWA-THOOOWAM! SHWA-THOWAM!

SHWA-THOOOWAM! SHWA-THOWAM!

He didn't even give enough time for the Liberators to pull their own triggers. His bullet-fast trigger finger sent endless parades of green laser blasts pounding into the exposing holes he had made in their armor. His eyes darted around, eyeing the places where he had cut them, and with expert marksmanship, shot exactly in the revealing spots in the black plates.

The blasts slammed into each soldier mercilessly, causing blood to explode from the spots as they all were beaten to the floor with the bludgeon of pistol shots. The shots were flying out at such a rapid rate, that the flashing green bursts of light illuminated Wolf's glaring face and reflected in his gleaming eye like a blazing strobe light.

Ker-CLUMP!

Finally, the last body hit the ground. The Officer rose from his cowering position, and looked around. Bodies blown open from the exposure spots surrounded him, all the Liberators lying in laser-blasted heaps. He looked with disbelief in Wolf's direction, who looked demeaning and deadly with his smoking blaster still held over his shoulder, light poking from the holes in his flapping overcoat from when the Liberators had shot it earlier.

Click!

In the dangerous silence, Wolf drew back the top of his blaster barrel and let the steaming ammo clip fall from the bottom of his pistol to his feet with a clatter.

The Officer stared at Wolf with a combined look of rage and fear. For one reason or another, Wolf had shot everyone except for him. He couldn't believe that all the Liberators had died so easily, and at the hands of a common mercenary. No, something was wrong…the other mercenaries he had killed off in the past weren't like him. And what was worse, was that the Officer was alone with him. No reinforcements. No easy way out. Just the two of them.

"It's not possible…" The Officer murmured, his lips barely moving. "It's just not possible. I've squashed so many infamous mercenaries…and…I get beaten…by just one?"

"You didn't." SNAK! He slid a fresh ammo clip into his blaster. "Let me guess. You always had a squad of soldiers doing your dirty work for you, right? Always hiding behind a crowd of your own scum, and watching them kill the helpless from the sidelines."

"SHUT UP!" The Officer roared. "You're just a lowly punk, not even a mercenary! You're just some pathetic civilian who's stepped out of line, just like the rest of the passengers on this ship, just waiting to be executed."

A newfound sense of hatred started to crackle inside Wolf.

So…these new soldiers not only arrest civilians…but kill them too…?

Cowardly bastards…just like Andross and the people of Kew…it's like the same crap on another day…

Murdering people that can't defend themselves because there isn't a fair balance between the weak and the strong in the galaxy…

"So…Corneria has dipped that low, have they?" Wolf said contemptuously. "Killing civilians? Tch. I fought better Cornerians during the war. At least they had a respect for the rules of war…but it seems that even criminals nowadays have a better sense of justice than foul cretins like you."

The Officer snarled and charged at Wolf, who remained rooted at his spot, swing his knife.

CLACK!

There was a break of tension as Wolf caught the Officer around the neck, hoisting him above the ground effortlessly so that he struggled with his feet dangling. The Officer's eyes shone with terror from under Wolf's powerful grip. He dropped the knife as the his neck became compressed by Wolf's fist like it was under the pressure of a metal compactor.

Wolf stared at him with a burning distaste, as if he were looking upon another Venomian. "You think you and your soldiers are so tough, don't you? With your heavy weapons and advanced armor…I know what type of garbage you are. The type that goes around picking at easy prey like civilians because you're too weak to stand up to someone stronger than you. You don't know what real battle is...you're not even soldiers. You're just bullying cowards who don't know what a pain in the ass they are until someone hands it to them."

The Officer began to gasp and splutter. His face began to swell a bright blue until it looked like it was going to burst open.

"Normally…" Wolf growled. "I wouldn't let you live long enough to shoot me from behind…but I've wasted enough time and skill on you weak mutts. And also, I know you have a master…"

The Officer's eyes widened, his muffled struggling becoming a combination of heavy breathing and choking.

"I'm going to let you live, but only so you can scurry back like a rat to your master and give him a warning." Wolf leaned forward, speaking in a seething tone. "Tell him that there's someone stronger than him out here, who's ready to pound his miserable face open. Now get lost, and pray that he finds me before he makes the time to kill you!"

Wolf hurled the Officer out of his grip. The Officer was so terrified that he started sprinting in the opposite direction as soon as he his feet hit the ground, running whimpishly like a dog with its tail between its legs.

When he was out of sight, Wolf smiled to himself.

Hah…that never gets old…

Still…I'd like to go somewhere where I don't have to deal with cowards at Pigma's level…

He was about to turn and head into the opposite direction when he heard a soft noise behind him.

THUNK.

Wolf froze in his tracks. He still wasn't alone yet…

He spun around to see a Liberator, still strangling to stay alive despite his wounds. Realizing that his moment of stealth was now gone, the soldier painfully but quickly pulled out a comm.

Wolf's eyes widened. Oh, shit! His hand flew to his blaster.

"COMMAND! THIS IS AN S.O.S, REQUESTING BACK-UP IN HALL 5, NOW!" The wounded Liberator managed to scream into the comm.

SHWA-THOOM!

A green blast of laser energy smashed against his already bleeding chest, as Wolf managed to sling out his blaster with blurring speed and shoot him straight in the stomach.

But he hadn't been fast enough. The message had already been delivered.

The bloody comm. device slipped from the Liberator's hand as he slumped over. The comm. buzzed like an insect in response, a muffled voice chirping from it.

"Roger that, corporal. Sending troops to reinforce hallway 9. Corporal? Do you copy? Corporal?"

Wolf cursed as he kicked at the Liberator's body in frustration.

God damn it…how the hell did I even miss him?

No…I got him…he just managed to survive somehow…

But he called for back-up…that means more are coming…?

He looked with exhaustion at the bodies scattered around the hallway. It hadn't been hard to take these soldiers out. It was just too time-consuming. He had to get off this ship sooner or later, that was the priority here…and he couldn't fight every last Liberator before he left…

BOOM.

Wolf's raised his blaster quickly at the lumbering sound. For a moment he stood there, pointing his blaster around him, listening…

Nothing happened.

BOOM.

This time, Wolf saw the direction from which the noise had struck. The wall on his left had just start to pulse, as if being forced open by a force on the other side.

Shit! He gritted his teeth. They're already here?

BOOM.

The wall was starting to crack. The soldiers would be inside the room any minute, and judging by how the previous group reacted, they'd pound the place with laser blasts without looking at their target first.

Wolf stood in the spot, his breath becoming quick, thinking frantically about what he was going to do.

There's no way I'm fighting another bunch of these soldiers…I don't have the time…

No…that's not why I'm here…

He clutched his blaster. But I'm the only thing standing in the way between them and Leon and those civilians…I've gotta buy them more time…

Yeah…that's it… He looked hurriedly at the door at the opposite end of the hallway. I've got to draw them away from that direction…

BA-BBBBOOOOOM!

The wall burst open in a destructive pounding of dust and gravel. Yet another smoking hole had been blown through the wall, but this one was bigger, probably to fit a bigger group of people through. Pipes in the wall's construct had been ripped in the explosion, and were now hissing showers of emergency fire extinguishing smoke over the entrance. Black figures were already emerging from the smoke that was billowing through…

Wolf didn't hesitate. He turned and sprinted down the hallway before any of the soldiers could enter through the door. His boots made a clit-clat! noise through the hall as he raced past the scattered debris and bodies, his coat fluttering behind him.

His tall ears picked up the pursuing voices from behind him:

"Hey, who's that over there?"

"He's getting away!"

"It must be one of the mercenaries! Fire on him!"

BRUNNANANNA!

The yellow shots whizzed by Wolf's ears and shoulders as the chasing soldiers fired their rifles at him.

He panted. Perfect. Why do all these morons have to wield the same freaking gun?

Avoiding the fire around him, Wolf dived into a ground-roll onto the smooth hallway floor and dove from one side of the long hallway to the other in a serpentine movement. The shots pelted the ground behind him as he dodged the beams with his tactic.

As the doorway at the end drew nearer, Wolf flipped onto his feet and began to ran as soon as he regained balance. He turned his head and fired some green shots behind him.

SHWA-THOOM! SHWA-THOOM!

The Liberators faltered in their pursuit on reflex and instinct at the shots, before avoiding the shots with their armor.

Wolf swept past the doorway and slid to a stop. In the next room, his eyes fell on the control panel next to the doorway and punched it quickly.

Shh-thunk!

The slide door closed, and Wolf had just enough time to see the pursuing Liberators' look of surprise as the door closed a few feet before they reached it.

Wolf pocketed his blaster hastily and set the control for the door to "Lock."

BOOOM.

Wolf gave an exasperated sigh.

Jesus…they just don't give up…

BOOM.

Wolf looked around. He was alone in the hallway, and he had to block this door somehow to keep the soldiers on the other side pounding against the door without success. He had to prevent them from getting through. The time it would take them to get the door open would be just enough to buy enough time for Leon and the rest.

BOOM.

Wolf looked around desperately. Nothing. There was nothing to block the door with.

Finally, he gave a reluctant look at the door.

Crap…I was hoping I wouldn't have to use it…

I don't know who these people are and I didn't want to draw that kind of attention…

They might identify me by my Inner Power…

He looked around again. He was still alone.

It might be alright…no one's here…

And besides, the only way to block this door for them to work at it long enough is to melt the metal…

…with fire.

BOOM.

Wolf took another cautious look at the door. He pocketed his blaster in a resignedmanner.

I don't have time to sit around…it's the only way…

He took a deep breath. Flexing his muscles in a concentrated way, he fixed his purple eyes on the door.

He drew a foot back, and let his arms drop to his sides, curling them into fists.

Finally, he raised his fists in defensive stance.

"FIRE WOOOLF!"

He waited for the heat to rise in his body. He stood, his arms ready for the familiar flickering purple flames to appear, his breath rising for the moment they would arrive…

Nothing happened.

A blank silence dropped in the room.

What?

Confused, Wolf looked at his hands. Then he looked around him, as if expecting the purple fiery aura he was used to.

But nothing happened. There was no fire. No flames.

Nothing.

What the hell? A pit of confusion and rushing fear clouded his insides. What's going on?

Why isn't it working?

He looked around expectantly. But nothing happened. Was something missing?

He did it again. This time, he didn't say the words, but kept the stance up like he always did.

But still, nothing happened.

Frustrated and perplexed at this sudden catastrophe, the only thing Wolf heard was his heavy breathing.

Something was wrong. His Inner Power wasn't working.

God Dammit! Wolf stamped his foot angrily.

Why now? Hell, why at all?

He looked at his hands, and turning them over in aggravation.

Why is this happening? Is there…something wrong with me…?

Then, it happened.

But it was not the Fire.

"GAAAAAARGHHHHIIIHHH!

A scream of agony tore itself from Wolf's throat, as he was suddenly gripped in a tightening fixture of intense pain. Some giant invisible pair of hands seemed to be choking the air out of his lungs, his breath becoming haggard and rough. Wolf panted with much effort, struggling for even the smallest gasp of air. Sweat began to drip down his neck and brow, and he fell to his knees.

"Haaah….hih…Haah….hih…" Small strands of strangled oxygen escaped his throat.

He didn't even have time to think before he looked up, eyes squinting desperately, but his vision was starting to blare with scattering black spots, until it became hazy and disoriented.

Wolf tried to struggle to his feet, blinking feebly around him like a child caught between consciousness and a coma. But then, another wave of pain smashed into his body.

He fell back as a burning sensation a twisting and throbbing aches flew up his spine. His muscles felt like they were on fire, and his bones were melting under his fur as if they were shrinking under crushing pressure. He let out a ripping scream of anguish and suffering as he writhed and shook in the spot, caught in some nightmarish seizure.

The pain was horrible, unlike the electric chains at the Prison, unlike the shocks from Andross's chips…

Those things at least felt like normal doses of pain, and occurred everywhere.

But this…this was something else. The pain seemed to be trapped and wriggling in his body like a captivated insect, running under his body in stream after stream of endless torture.

Wolf clutched his face with his hands, his screams muffled under his arms. His skin felt like it rigidly tightening onto his face and body, as if it were going to split. His eyes were shut and he was moving automatically…it was like being trapped outside in the zero-gravity emptiness of outer space…

The air seemed to shimmer around him. His vision was flickering like a light show, and he began to see things. But it was all flashing too fast…like a sped-up rerun of clouds moving across the sky...disfigured shapes blazing against his line of vision…filling his eyes, switching it from black and white to just plain black…

"I hope….someday, you'll find it in your conscience to forgive me."

What?

Despite the pain, Wolf opened his eyes weakly. He could have sworn…no, he knew he had heard a voice. But it was distant, like an echo….it wasn't coming from inside the room…

It was more like a voice in his mind, like a thought….and it filled his ears with its ringing tone, like a knell…

Whose voice is that? Who said it?

A face blurred by…a young earnest face, kind and understanding…but the second it had appeared…it vanished…

Wolf squinted. Who….was that?

That voice…whose voice….who is it…?

Who are you…?

He looked around for signs of life, but the more he struggled, the more the pain grew.

"There's no escape for you, now…you've become a faceless animal…"

Another….it resembled the first face, only it was older and sterner….and then it vanished too…

What's happening…?

That voice…it was different from the first one, but he knew it…

He knew the first one to….but where had he heard those voices…?

The flashing shadows began to clog his vision. They began to slow down by seconds, and the indistinguishable shapes formed into faces, but they went by so fast, he couldn't recognize them. Each appeared briefly before fading into darkness…

And each left a familiar but hauntingly vivid echo of their voices…they were familiar, but he didn't know from where…?

Now the faces were moving too quickly for Wolf to recognize them. Their voices seemed to creep in and out of his head, revolving around him like Andross's voiced did in that one room on Venom…

"Just go, get your team together. You can tell me some exciting stories next time we meet."

The pain that was causing Wolf to writhe in the spot made him disoriented enough to fall over, but the voices just kept blaring in his ears, almost taunting him…

Then, he heard another voice.

"You're a true warrior…and I'm completely in your debt…"

He reached out uselessly, trying to make sense out of these rushing faces and whispering voices. He could barely see his own hand in front of him

Who are you…? Tell me…? He begged the faces desperately.

He wanted it to be over…there had to be a way to stop this…

He wanted the faces and the voices to leave him alone…they were too hauntingly familiar…

"The friends you count on so much…they will fail you in the end…"

Despite the pain and rushing, Wolf actually recognized that one as his own voice.

Was he hearing things that he had said in the past…?

But if that were the case, who were these other voices?

FWOOOOM!

Heat flickered in front of Wolf's face, warming him for a moment. He weakly shielded his face with his hands, before opening his eyes slightly. His heart skipped a beat.

A faint purple flame was glowing in front of him. It was his fire…now it had chosen to appear?

Why now? What was going on?

He only managed to raise himself feebly to see the towering purple flames rush towards him like a charging tide. His already shortened breath tightened as he saw them approach, and the he shut his eyes.

FWOOOOOM!

The flames, instead of hitting him, made a funneling, twisting vortex of purple fire, caging him inside a tornado of heat and oxygen. Wolf blinked in the bright haze.

My Inner Power…

It's acting by itself…it's never done this before…

Why is it happening…why now?

FWIIIISH!

The flames sent a wave of heated wind across his body, causing his fur and coat to ruffle in the intense wind. The wall of fire that encased him grew higher, swirling around him faster and faster until it made his weary eyes hurt.

"You've got a long way ahead of you. What's your name, kid?" A rugged voice asked him from somewhere in the back of his mind, but it sounded like it was coming from outside the wall of fire.

He turned his head into the direction where he had heard it. He couldn't see past the fire, but he was certain that there was no one there…

The visions blurred faster. The voices became constant and combined into a muffled echo, and they all began to whisper eerily, all at the same time…spinning around him, like a vortex of audible winds…

"Is it really worth it? To dedicate yourself towards Lylat's scourge….and get away with it?"

Wolf whirled his head around.

Stop…

"We're a Team, Wolf. Don't forget that…"

The voices were echoing from across random places around him. The fire swirling, the voices echoing, the visions blaring past him… it made him feel like he was going crazy.

Stop it, leave me alone…please…

The flames started to rise as the voices grew louder…purple light began to envelop Wolf's vision…

"You know….you're kind of like my personal knight in shining armor…"

He clutched his face with his hands. The voices dug deeper and deeper inside his brain….till they were all rising in sound until they sounded like they were groaning louder and louder…

I want it to end…just leave me alone…

"Soon you'll see the truth of all of this…"

He cowered, confused and afraid of what was happening to him, feeling as helpless as a child lost in a crowd.

Leave me alone…I don't know what's going on…

"You're weak…you're nothing….just my experiment…" That same voice again…the tenacious one…

The flames rose higher…becoming a wave of light inches from his faces…

"You're not a monster…you're my friend, Wolf. I'm sorry I judged you like everyone else." A soft, vivacious voice…

They burned brighter…he fell to his knees, still clutching his face. He shut his eyes tighter, clenched his teeth more, trying to wake himself up from this horrible nightmare…

"It's okay, Boss. You're still the Leader, no matter what."

Leave me alone…just go away…

"YOU MURDERER! How could you kill a child?"

The voices grew louder…the flames swirled faster…

"Look what you've done to me, Fox! I'LL KILL YOU!"

Wolf panted and looked up desperately. His eyes widened.

The flames at the top of the massive wall of fire were now sprouting into long shapes, bristling out of the top like spines. The more he watched, the more they all started to take shape.

Finally, the flames glowed like a giant ember, and they turned into bristling fiery arms, with clawed hands that were outstretched towards him.

Wolf stared at them, fear clouding his eyes as they reached out toward him, moving swiftly, raining down towards him…

His breath quickened as the fiery hands came closer and closer to him…his breath became rapid until it was whistling like wind…his heart was pulsing rapidly…

The horrible combined voices continued to moan in his skull, even with all the rushing things and the hands edging towards him, Wolf still found them to be the most terrifying thing of all…how hauntingly familiar they were…

"For you…Max…"

The flaming hands were almost an inch from his face, parading forward, their clawed fingers reaching out for his soul…the fire around him began close in on his body…

He couldn't breathe…he couldn't think…he was too afraid…he was too afraid…

And that was the second he saw them: an illusion, a hallucination, whatever these images racing past him were, this one he got a full glimpse of.

It was a pair of turquoise blue eyes, shining from behind the wall of flames. They were of the purest blue, almost identical to twin sapphires, filled with warmth, comfort….and sorrow. They were beautiful…familiarly beautiful…

"You're the best pilot I know, Wolf…and a great warrior. I know…you're destined for something greater."

FAROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Then, something strange happened. The color of the towering flame structure, as well as the clawed fiery hands that were reaching out, changed from its familiar purple to orange. A second before the flaming hands reached his face, the eyes vanished. Wolf's eyes grew huge with fear as they dominated his sense of vision, but he heard a crackle of fire behind him. He turned only too late to see another group of flaming hands burst out to grab him.

And the last thing he remembered before he consciousness failed him was a blinding light, the final glimpse of a fiery orange hand reaching out and consuming his vision…

….and his ears filled with the drowning noise of his own scream.

End of Chapter