-1The surrounding mix of forest and jungle wasn't ideal for detecting anyone sneaking up on you, though perfect for when you were sneaking. Fox smirked a little as he slid from one patch of dense foliage to another quietly, his target not even noticing. He knew he had the advantage here, it could have gone quite wrong at the start for him, but he'd been lucky. He removed his blaster from its' sheath and took careful aim as his target turned away to search a bush opposite him. As it was though, he needed a better angle for a shot, and got to his feet, tilting to one side with the muzzle firmly at her back. And then, the trigger was pulled.
The noises of the various jungle animals and plants were suddenly drowned out by the girl's in-suit klaxon sounding, and a bright red flashing light told Fox he'd won that match. His opponent spun round with a squeal, trying to bring her own weapon to bear, but the controls had been jammed. She was 'dead', Fox had his second point of the day. She scowled, placing her gun in her hip holster but accepted Fox's offered hand graciously.
"Wrong bush," Fox said gleefully, still on somewhat of a smug high after that shot. Fay pushed a blue bang that had fallen into her eyes away and smiled in response, able to take it with good humour.
"I guess we're even then?" she asked, referring to the combat practice they had been doing for the better part of the day on a secluded corner of the Fortunan woodland area. Both had been equipped with modified blasters which only used infra-red beams that connected with a special suit both furs wore to detect when they had received a glancing laser blast, or like Fay had just received, a shot that would have been lethal or crippling had it been a real blaster.
"Yep. D'you want a final round, or happy like it is?" Fox asked, holstering his own weapon and looping his thumbs into loops that also held his suit's belt. He honestly hated these sorts of suits - they were hot, uncomfortable and heavy. He would be glad to be able to take a short rest from being in it should Fay want it. To his relief, she nodded.
"Lets'," she suggested. "We need some dinner anyway," she added as both of them began to walk towards where they had set up base camp. At the mention of the 'd' word, Fox's belly gave a loud rumble, and he was forced to concede that it was a very good idea. Given the position on the planet they had both landed, the planetary time was slightly later than both were used to taking their evening meal - Sol was just about to set in the sky, and already some of the clouds had turned pink and red. That didn't stop Fay though, as soon as they both entered the half-clearing that was their temporary camp, the white canine was already firing up the hot plate and rifling through the various cans of tinned food, picking two and dropping them into a pot of water she'd set to boil.
"So what's the poison tonight?" asked Fox, now thankfully removing the green and brown practice suit, revealing a red T-shirt and a pair of green combat trousers with gold-coloured reactive grav strips. These were a replacement for Velcro, whereby the strips would form their own gravity field based on the mass of an object close by, sticking the object to the side of the trousers. Fay looked up at him and smiled with acceptance at the joke.
"Buru Bird," she explained, tossing one of the empty tins over to the vulpine, who caught it and examined the picture of the medium-sized wild fowl that was often a regular meal in the Lylat System. It wasn't eaten when Falco was around, out of consideration, but it was one of Fox's favourite meals, and he retracted the earlier statement about it being a 'poison'.
"It's just what I'm used to asking the guys," he explained with a tinge of red coming to his cheeks. Fay just shrugged, prodding the boiling tins with a fork so they bobbed and turned around, making sure the meat within would be tossed well and good to eat.
"It's no problem, I'll just eat it all," she said coolly, giving the second tin a nudge closer to her than Fox, and smirked over her shoulder, probably expecting a crestfallen look. What she got instead though, was nearly seventy-five kilograms of russet-gold Fox tackling her away from the food. "Ah!" she squealed as she was knocked down, her arms pinned to the ground by Fox.
"So, do you still feel you can eat it all?" he asked with a leer, grinning right before her eyes. "Or am I going to have to count it all as stuffing?" he added, enhancing his meaning by giving Fay a little lick on the cheek, at which the dog gave a little yip of surprise.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Fox McCloud?" she asked, replying with a lick of her own to Fox's furry cheek. That was enough to get Fox off her, as he got back up to his knees, releasing his crewmate and letting her sit up again, both grinning stupidly at each other and blushing just a little. "Can you watch the food while I get out of this?" she asked, turning away and beginning to fumble with the zipper on the front.
"Sure thing," Fox obliged, picking up the fork and chasing the two cans around the bottom of the bubbling water. After a few seconds, Fay was kneeling next to him, watching his treatment of their evening meal. Like him, she was wearing a pair of combat trousers, pink with yellow grav-strips along the sides. But rather than a T-shirt, she had simply taken a pink bikini top which was distracting for him, though he had to admit it had been a good plan - the atmosphere of the woodland was hot and humid, and his shirt was sticking to his fur with the sweat.
"Here, I'll get them out," Fay offered, taking the fork from Fox's hand and looping the prongs around the ring pulls on the boiled cans. She flipped the first, followed by the second out, Fox caught them both and placed them on the ground quickly, wincing at the heat of the metal on wincing at the hot metal on his bare furred hands - neither had opted to bring gloves along from their ships. Both canines cleared away the cooking equipment as the tins cooled down, and soon they were eagerly sitting opposite each other, spoon and fork in each hand, and a tin with the top peeled back steaming in front of them.
"Not like my mother does, but the smell's as good," Fay commented, inhaling a deep breath of the delicious meat. Fox crooked a small smile at that, though the words were uncomfortably familiar - his own mother's cooking had also been incredible, her pies would send half the cubs in the street running to their house to try and get a bit of the food whenever Vixy called her son in for dinner. Fay seemed to notice the vulpine's crestfallen look and blushed, realised she'd hit a sensitive spot.
"Don't bother yourself with it too much," insisted her captain, waving his fork in dismissal. It stung him, but not too hard that he couldn't explain it to someone he trusted. He would be lying if he said he wasn't a little jealous of Fay for having a pair of alive, good and kind parents - making her the only one on the team - but he wasn't about to be overly reclusive when it came to parentage. His parents did plenty of things that were worth speaking about, and some painful experience had taught him who he could talk to, and Fay fit the criteria fine. The dog didn't reply at first, but that was mostly due to the amount of food in her mouth. She gave a large gulp down, wiped her mouth with her arm and nodded.
"Do you mind if I ask you something about you?" she then asked, leaving her cutlery in her not-finished tin. Fox wondered if the chat he'd had with Miyu last night had been relayed to Fay, but decided that it was a fair thing to consider. Knowing each other well was part of keeping a good team together, and if anything, he'd get the chance to ask a few questions about her.
"Sure thing," McCloud agreed, taking another bite of the quick cooking, but enjoying the taste anyway. He arranged his legs from the cross-legged position to something a bit more comfortable, and rested against a pack on the ground. Fay also did the same, tucking her legs in tightly though and resting her arms around them until she needed another bite.
"Why do you hide away from the spotlight so much when you're on Corneria?" she eventually asked, and Fox blinked. He'd been expecting something along the lines of questions about his family, but it seemed that Fay had kept tabs on him since he had arisen to 'stardom' in Corneria. Maybe earlier - she'd only been two years younger than him at the Academy, and it had seemed several of her friends knew who he was.
"I don't know…" Fox murmured, scratching behind his ear. "I mean, Falco and Peppy relish the attention and publicity; Slippy's just shy generally…"
"You're a little shy too," pointed out Fay, and as if to emphasise that, Fox's ears went a little red.
"Yeah… but only with people I'm unfamiliar with but would like to know better," he admitted. "I can be quite firm and resolute with unknowns I'm not interested in." Fay nodded in time with this, taking a little bite of her Buru Bird and her look told him essentially to 'carry on and answer the question'. After taking another gulp of the food, Fox obliged, choosing his words carefully. "I think when I became a mercenary and went off to fight Andross, I didn't have any real reason except revenge for my father. When I saw what he was doing to the other planets I justified what I was doing as something good for the whole system. That sort of repeated, and eventually I began to believe it a little myself. But I never really wanted so much publicity; I'm not my dad, and I don't want people believing that."
Fay stared for a short moment at Fox, her mind whirling a little. She'd often wondered exactly why Fox had attained such popularity, or how he'd even managed to get it into his head that he could save a system. Somehow, it took the polish off his gleaming appearance, that the 'saving the galaxy' was just a cover-up, but it also seemed to make him a really honest person in her eyes.
"Why do you ask?" Fox then asked, the stunned canine, and it was Fay's turn to blush a little. She gulped a little more of her food down to put off the answer as long as possible, but never got the chance to reply anyway. As soon as she put her can down, a hail of light bolts streaked out of the trees to the left, hailing down on the campsite, and Fox and Fay were only a little too late to get out of the way. Both rolled instinctively into their nearby tents, which became the centre of the shooter's attention as scorch marks began appearing in the upper canvas of both canids' tents. That, however, was short matter to both of them compared to the numerous instances of scorched fur and seared skin that peppered their bodies. Both were doing their best to withstand the pain, but the wincing was straining Fox's face, and tears were accumulating in Fay's eyes as any burnt part that touched anything sent a jolt of pain through her body.
"What happened?" wondered Fox through gritted teeth, reaching to the edge of his tent for where he left his comm.-link, real blaster and medical supplies, only to find that, confusingly, they weren't there. It became apparent when he looked up and around that he wasn't exactly in his own tent - the quickly blackening surfaces of the canvas weren't his trademark green, but pink; and he never, ever folded his clothes like the nicely ordered gear at the foot of a white and blue sleeping bag. However, he caught sight of a green box with a white cross on the top beside the clothes, and near it a communications headset and - of all joys - a standard-issue blaster for his crew; all of which ended up clipped to his belt, placed around his ears or slotted into a holster..
"I hope Fay has better luck in my tent," though Fox, going a little red around the ears as he remembered his slightly disorganised unpacking system, and also the fact that his blaster was kept at the very bottom of his sleeping bag. Noticing that some of the scorch marks in the canvas were falling in and smouldering, he knew he had to get out soon. He had a long knife at his belt, something Falco insisted he take on a jungle trip, and the fox was going to have to thank the avian for the suggestion. Knowing he'd have to pay at some point for the expenses caused to his team-mate's sleeping arrangement, he tugged the knife out of his belt and slashed it through the pink canvas at the edge that faced the jungle growth. He reflected though, as the roof began to catch alight, perhaps he didn't have to say anything to her at all.
"Fay?" he asked in trepidation through the vox, but nothing answered. The golden vulpine slipped through the relatively tangled undergrowth, wincing whenever a vine or thorn hit one of his burns, towards the now smoking form of his once proud green tent. He had holstered Fay's blaster, seeing no reason to really use it at the moment, and simply hacked at any particularly nasty-looking weeds with his machete. Eventually, he slid through to the back of his own tent as it too caught fire, and ran a slice across the back of it. A squeak from inside told him that Fay was indeed in there, and to his relief, alive.
"Fox!" she exclaimed, as she saw who it was, lowering what Fox recognised as his own weapon. Deciding not to ask for the moment how she'd got the weapon out, or more to the point, how she'd located it; he took her outstretched arm and tugged her out of the tent as the top collapsed from the fire. Both mercenaries yelped out loud as the burns on their arms brushed against the fur of the other, and the tug of Fox's brought them both tumbling into the undergrowth, crying out at the painful touches of the vines and creepers that arrayed the jungle. When both had opened their eyes again, their eyes and jaws contracted with the effort of holding back some quite extreme pain, they suddenly realised that Fay was lying on top of Fox, both of them covered by a large fern that they'd obviously fallen through.
"Sorry," they both whispered to each other, and they both blushed for a moment, and began to scramble up, but Fay let herself back down and Fox pulled her closer to him as they heard voices coming from the direction of their ruined campsite. The large fern was probably enough to cover them, but their fur was covered in burns, and encased in dirt and plant bits they'd fallen through, so Fox reasoned they stood a chance at not being discovered unless someone looked carefully. In case that happened, though, they exchanged weapons, and turned the safety switches off.
"Some good shooting there, Sicarus," said a smooth, sickly honey-edged voice, and Fox felt Fay's free hand tighten a little around his wrist. Both canine and fox held their breath as they remembered Cyrene, and had no desire to meet her face-to-face. The sound of crunching, burnt grass echoed through the trees surrounding the clearing and the fern covering them - neither could mistake the double-sound of a pair of high-heels as it made its' way through the remains of their tents.
"Thank you, Miss," replied an odd-sounded voice, the accent of which neither mercenary could identify. Fox would have chanced a peek at this point, but Fay was still lying on top of him, and she couldn't move much for fear of moving the fern that covered them.
"Well, I say good…" the swan female's voice replied lazily. "But I see no scorched fur, no bodies, no bones. Do you really think McCloud and his bitch would just disappear in flames like that?" she asked, and the sound of snapping fingers echoed into the ears of both mercenaries - not that they heeded it. Both were restraining themselves from leaping up and ripping the swan's head off such was Cyrene's choice of language.
"N…no, Captain Swan," replied the voice of the shooter, and there was a horrible silence, where even the forest seemed to hold its' breath in anticipation as Cyrene considered the oddly-voiced shooter. Fox also seemed to notice, as the silence dragged on, that Fay's loose hold around his arm seemed to intensify, and the rest of her body pressed itself closer to him.
"Are you allright?" whispered Fox in as low a voice as he could, nosing underneath one of her large, floppy ears to ask the white canine. Fay nodded slowly above him, but the vulpine could somewhat guess that wasn't entirely the case. A cracking shot that echoed through the clearing confirmed that as despite the burns, Fay squeaked softly and pulled herself closer to Fox. The fox winced at the touches of the sore parts of his fur, but carefully enclosed the arm not holding his pistol around Fay, ignoring the slight heat rising in his cheeks.
There was a long silence after the shot, before the sickly sweet voice of Cyrene Swan reached them again, sounding happier than it had been before. Fox wondered for a moment whether she'd shot the person who'd tried to kill him and Fay, until he heard the odd voice sobbing throughout Cyrene's words.
"Well, Ramón, you're right. They couldn't just vanish into nothing - they vanished into the jungle. And you're going to get them, or the rest of you will end up like your hand," the female avian said smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. "I'll set up a communications jammer, so they can't relay to their ship. I expect their heads within at least a week. No risks of prisoners this time."
"Yes… Ma'am…" whimpered 'Ramón' , obviously not liking the idea at all. Fox pulled Fay in closer to her as steps seemed to come closer to their fern, but they only passed their hiding spot quickly, marching through the jungle accompanied by a few heavier footsteps of the guards. When all the noises but the continued whimpering of the sniper had faded away, the two members of Star Fox released each other, Fay turning around to look towards their campsite with Fox peering over her shoulder when he was up as well, both holding back the instinctive responses to the burns.
Kneeling in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by a group of pirates, was a duck who was clutching the stump of a hand, a rifle lying on the ground beside him as his men, possibly his subordinates, all remained quiet, giving each other worried glances. It was clear that none of them knew exactly what they could do at the moment, except one who took a medical kit out and began wrapping up the mess of his superior's hand.
"That bitch…" whispered Fay as the duck moved a little, and it was clear that the bandages, if at least keeping it together, weren't doing anything to stop the bleeding. The avian's blood had already turned the white bandages a deep crimson, and his medic was stooping to place fresh bandages on.
"Ramón, mate, I should have listened to you," the medic admitted, watching his latest efforts only go slightly pink. "You were right - she's not the sort of person we wanted to work for," the beagle said, helping the duck to his feet. Ramón, however, shook his head, and replied in his odd, half-nasal, half lisping voice..
"No - it was me. I was so sure I could get her into bed, and look what's happened," he admitted, holding his ruined arm up. "I'm sorry, guys," he added, looking around his troops. However, rather than sympathetic looks, all he was getting were stares of resentment. Fox and Fay both drew in a bit of breath, and crouched down amongst the flora as one of the duck's henchmen landed a punch squarely in his stomach, sending the flat-footed avian collapsing backwards, winded. Three other pirates, including the medic, were treated in a similar way, all four ending up clutching their stomachs on the ground, groaning with pain.
"Yeah, I see what's 'appened," spat a newt as he approached the mallard. "An' I see what's goin' to 'appen. You're goin' to tell us all this was a big mistake, an' we should leave 'ere and now, aren't you?" Weakly, the green-headed avian nodded. "Yeah, well guess what, Cruz - some of us think this is the best damn thing you've ever done for us - we knew you wanted out, we didn't. An' we're goin' to get McCloud an' his bitch, an' we'll save Captain Swan the problem of dealin' with you and your mates," he added, and amidst guffaws from the other cronies, he withdrew a pistol, pointing it straight above the duck's beak.
He never got the chance to pull the trigger - before he did, a pair of angry mercenaries, caked with burns, dirt and various bits of moss and plant, burst from the undergrowth, shots lancing from their blasters at the standing pirates, and the fox with a vicious knife held backwards in his right hand. The newt seemed to be especially alert, though, as he slipped out of the firing range immediately, and began launching bolts of light at the mercs as he backed away towards the jungle himself. The more switched on of his cronies were clever enough to run away after their ringleader, but the dimmer were fumbling in their belts for their weapons. Unfortunately, Fay had taken down a fair number with her blaster, as had Fox with his own gun before they had got their own weapons out - and by that time, Fox was on close combat terms with his knife.