Star Fox Redux

by Wolfe DJT

The Lylat system; once a society of peace and prosperity, now a battleground of chaos and war. With the Cornerian Army pushed back to their last line, the Star Fox Team answer Corneria's call to battle, and set off to combat the enemy, striking back at every stronghold across the Lylat system. A retooling of Star Fox 64.

11. Chapter 10- Venom, Recovering an Asset

Star Fox Redux: The Lylat Wars

Chapter 10: Venom, Recovering an Asset

The skies over Venom loomed as an Androssian shuttle shot along the horizon towards Andross' fortress, as acidic rain fell from the clouds. Aboard the shuttle, a small crack team of recovery commandos- "Recovery Team Echo"- transported an injured comrade back to headquarters. The commandos were under a strict deadline; their cargo was Andrew Monkeyvitch, nephew to Lord Andross, who had been abandoned on Fichina about three days prior by the mercenary Star Wolf Team. Andrew's condition was seen as near-fatal…

Three days ago…

The dogfight between Star Fox and Star Wolf had ended. Silence had fallen over the valley at the site of the Cornerian Army outpost. The Star Fox Team had managed to recover their Arwing fighters, re-grouped and left aboard their mothership Great Fox. Amongst the incoming blizzard, however, the fires of the outpost overshadowed another burning wreck; the Venomian Wolfen fighter pilot, Andrew Monkeyvitch. The snow monkey had been shot down by the enemy and left for dead by his comrades, the mercenary Star Wolf Team. Emerging from the crash of his Wolfen fighter, Andrew suffered a severe concussion and distortion; he could barely recognise where he was, how he got there, or why he was there in the first place. His attire- a blood red jumpsuit with a golden collar, black boots and a bright blue scarf- was burnt and torn from a violent occurrence. Heat bore on his back as he stumbled around a seated source of light. His vision blurred, his legs unstable, his body freezing. He tripped over his own feet as they were quickly buried by the snow and he collapsed face first, hitting his face hard and knocking himself out.

Andrew dreamed of a summer's day as a coronation took place; his red uniform had morphed to that of a General's, and his chest was adorned with medals and epaulettes hung from his shoulders. He marched forward towards a newly crowned emperor, who proudly recognised him as "nephew". Andrew turned to face the thousands within the cheering crowds, raising a hand to wave; the cheering roared louder, the people jumped in triumph and Andrew was happy. But then swift clouds blotted out the sun, and shadowy creatures screeched through the skies, casting fireballs into the crowds and immolating the populace. Andrew's face of pride turned to horror, as his emperor disappeared from sight into the chaos, the screams of the people who praised him echoed through his mind. The scene atop a large hill soon crumbled away, as Andrew tumbled into an abyss of screams, swirling vortexes and a damning laugh. As he fell, all Andrew could do was scream for his idol:

"UNCLE ANDROSS… … …"

Andrew awoke- hours, possibly days- later, the snow having gently rested over him like a blanket. But this blanket was a frozen snapback to reality, and the snow monkey- his usually red skin now the same colour as his white fur- desperately dug to the surface, clawing at the thick snow with his bare hands. His gloves were soon soaked, and his hands soon began to freeze, but Andrew knew he could not stop. He had to be free. Snow poured down onto him as he tunnelled up to escape, gently settling on his uniform and face, further soaking him and making his movements harder. He was concussed, freezing and fatigued from lack of proper sleep, food and water. After what felt like an hour shovelling snow through his hands, Andrew slowly began to see light, or a lighter picture than his darkness under the snow. He soon broke the surface and pulled himself from a frozen grave, only to find himself again lost in a sea of white blankness. The blizzard was at its peak, the harsh winds and snow shards cutting through his skin like needles. Andrew desperately hugged himself to keep the heat in, but it was too much; the howling winds cut through him, and his soaked uniform did nothing to bare the elements. What was worse, the heat source he had at his back so long ago- as he was now able to realise- was the flaming wreck of his Wolfen fighter, and it had since gone out, likely doused by the snowstorm. His teeth clattered together as he stumbled through the snow, hopelessly trying to cling to his own body heat as he slumped- inch by inch- towards his Wolfen, the blizzard seemingly becoming stronger and stronger the closer he came. In truth, his body was shutting down; he was out of energy, and out of time. If he couldn't get somewhere warm, Andrew very much believed he would die on this tundra-like planet.

Andrew slogged through the freezing sheets of storm, slumping to one knee as he gasped for breath (the biting frost gradually stealing it from him), before standing again and shuffling further towards his hope-spot in the cockpit of his fighter. To seal himself off from the frozen storms, to remove his soaked clothing, to sit and wait whilst his uncle's forces came for him. But then, he wondered; how long had he been here? How long had it been since the Venomian Army pulled out of Fichina? How long had it been since-

"Star Wolf…"

That was all he could muster to wheeze between breaths as the realisation hit him. Star Wolf lead pilot- Wolf O'Donnell- had attacked him before he could take his fight to Star Fox, crippling his ship and by association his skills. He was left open to an attack, which Star Fox seized and struck, downing the Star Wolf rookie and sending him out of the battle. The crash must have knocked him out and caused his severe migraine. Andrew soon made it to his fighter, but collapsed before he could jump inside. The snowstorm howled and warped around him, cutting through his uniform with sharp hail shards and penetrating him down to the bone. He gasped for air as he laid a hand on the body of the downed Wolfen fighter, but he could catch none. His attempts to hoist himself onto the fighter were in vain, and he slumped down to the ground, exhausted and near-frozen. Between each gasp of air was a shivering quiver, as Andrew had come to expect the worst: he had been abandoned on Fichina, and left to die forgotten, simply a footnote in the rise of his beloved uncle's new world order. The snow monkey almost passed out again- his eyes drooping as he drew in his thin breaths- but he was more determined; his eyes shot open, his arms wrenched onto the Wolfen, and he dragged himself upon the fighter. It took all his strength and damn-near killed him, but Andrew as finally able to crawl into his cockpit, seal it off from the cold harshness of this tundra-like world and removed most of his clothing, leaving him in just a pair of black undershorts. He was still freezing, and the cockpit wasn't that much warmer than outside, but the blizzard could not reach him in here, so he waited until he was properly rested before moving forward. No doubt he would be starving, dehydrated and likely still freezing cold, Andrew had to rest and closed his eyes, his body curled up tight to lock in his own heat…

Back aboard Recovery Team Echo's shuttle, Andrew was laid in a bed-bracket, strapped down so he didn't roll out as the shuttle curved and dipped and dove around the asteroids of the Lylat system or even the lay of the land on planet Venom. As the pilot took one corner a little too late, he barely avoided a cliff-edge, missing the wing of the shuttle by a hair. The leader of the recovery team was not impressed.

"Watch where you're going, lieutenant. You almost got us killed back there." The leader barked as they passed the near-fatal collision, smacking his pilot around the ear.

"Apologies, captain. It won't happen again."

The captain then left the pilot to his duty and returned to the main body of the shuttle to check on Andrew, who still tossed and turned, still freezing from his time on Fichina…

Andrew awoke some time later, his temperature still below freezing, but otherwise recovered somewhat. His stomach growled and his mouth was dry, but his migraine had ceased somewhat, allowing to focus better on his survival. He rummaged around in his cockpit, looking to find his long-range transmitter so he could call in for help. He doubted if Wolf had reported him missing in action, and believed that the Venomian Army thought him dead. Andrew finally located it after about half an hour searching; the long-range transmitter was a small black box-looking object with a microphone and audio receiver built onto the front. Andrew took the microphone- a thin detachable stick- and tuned in a dial on the side of the radio to the Venomian frequency. He huffed and puffed as he got his breath, and in as clear a voice as he could produce, Andrew proclaimed:

"Mayday, Mayday! This is Andrew Monkeyvitch of the Androssian Empire, nephew to Lord Andross and esteemed pilot… I have been downed on Fichina, and am in need of evacuation… If anyone can hear me, please hurry! I don't think I have much time left… I have no rations, no water and no winterised clothing for dealing with the blizzards on this blasted world! ... Please hurry!"

He couldn't rest the transmitter carefully as it took him all his energy to send out his message as clearly as possible. He collapsed and dropped the transmitter under his seat, his arms flopped down beside him and he sprawled out in the cockpit. He continued to huff and huff as he watched the ever-strengthening snowstorm outside, the shards of ice and hail tinkering off the cockpit glass and lightly scratching it. The glass wasn't likely to break, but the Fichinian storms were known for their savagery. Andrew once again entered a slumber, his eyes slowly clamping shut as he sunk down into his seat.

He entered another dream; he stood at the helm of a Venomian cruiser as it cut through the skies of Corneria, a locust-like swarm of Venomian fighters slipping down to attack the Cornerian settlements. He stood tall and proud in a General's uniform similar to the one from the coronation, as he bore a devilish grin whilst Venomian fighters laid siege to the Cornerian countryside. Pillars of fire burned into the skies, the screams of terrified civilians echoed throughout the streets, and Andrew watched on in sinister delight and stood proud upon the decking of the cruiser he commanded, the hot wind billowing through his overcoat and gently brushing through his fur. His dark smile never once failed him, even as Cornerian fighters bombed around his head; as fighters- both enemy and ally alike- exploded around him yet failed to knock his stance loose; as some fighters zoomed passed him barely inches from him, and he stood as proud and tall as when this dream began. And that smile… still with him even as the day slowly shifted to night, the hot air turning to a cold chill. The bright burning glow was turned to a dark smoking blackness, and suddenly Andrew's smile faded from his face. His stance loosened, and soon the fighters that almost smashed into him were now able to buffet him off-balance. The howls of the G-Diffusers as they went passed startled and confused him until one such fighter crashed onto the cruiser decking. The cockpit imploded and cast into the air as a shadowy figure emerged; a bull-sized, lion-fearing mass of horror. Andrew pulled a blaster rifle on the creature as it limped towards him; slowly at first, as if injured from the sudden crash. As Andrew continued to fire endless laser shots at it, however, the limping thing came closer at a faster rate with every strike. Andrew continued to move steadily back whilst he shot the creature to no avail. Meanwhile, the creature's movements returned to something more akin to a normal walking pace; the sluggish limp had evolved into a standard slow walk. The slow walk soon became a faster-paced walk, until the creature was fully lunging after Andrew. The shadow now expanded in size, the black mist quickly enveloping the area and not long after that, the entire sky above. Andrew's face had retorted into a look of fear and horror; he had nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide, and no way of fighting back. The titan-sized eclipsing shadow stretched down with long gangly arm and seized Andrew by the throat, pulling him into the sky amidst a black fog. The arm raised the monkey to a silhouette of a face which contorted over and over before forming a solid state of a mean-pointed muzzle with fiery eyes that burned through the mist and into Andrew's soul. The snow monkey cried and shrieked in terror as the muzzle opened and growled a series of words in a voice that took the breath from Andrew:

"You're nothin' more than dead weight, Monkeyvitch. You're only kept around cos your uncle feels sorry for you. Once he's got what he wants outta ya, he'll snuff you out… and toss ya to the wolves."

The shadowy lupine then tossed Andrew aside with a thunderous laugh, the black fog loosening its grip on the helpless monkey as he tossed through the skies toward the ground, flying besides fighters and cruisers alike, screaming in fear as he came closer to smashing the ground, inch by inch, mile by mile. As he was about to splat against the cold dead countryside of planet Corneria below him, however, he slammed harmlessly onto a hard surface. When he opened his eyes and looked around, there was… nothing. No burning fields. No battlefields above. No rainstorms of downed fighters or battlecruisers. Simply a blank void-like canvas stretched before him, the light of which he could barely see. There was just nothing. Off in the distance, a hushed voice whispered something; Andrew stumbled around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from, and listening closer to hear what was said. It wasn't long until he was able to narrow down the source, and ran in that direction, the voice becoming louder and louder with each step forward. Andrew panted violently as he continued to run towards the voice, which was now clearly audible, but still faint enough that Andrew couldn't make out the words just yet. With each presumed mile, the voice grew until Andrew could hear it clearly. The words made him stop dead in his tracks and call back out to the voice to speak. The voice responded in kind:

"Wake up…"

"Who are you? Show yourself!"

"Wake up…"

"What is it? Come out! I know you are there!"

"Wake up…"

"WHO ARE YOU?!"

"Wake-"

"-Up, Andrew." The recovery team captain bellowed to the awoken monkey, whose eyes ripped open to show bloodshot sclera and weary lids. "You're awake. Good. Do you know how long you've been on Fichina for, Andrew Monkeyvitch?"

Andrew could barely focus on what was being said to him, let alone respond coherently. He mumbled a series of words, such as "Lord Andross… Uncle… Wolf… Stars…" and "Help…" before slipping out of consciousness again.

"Let's move, Recovery Echo. Lord Andross wants this fool saved, and we shall deliver. Kong, get over here and get this dead weight out of this cockpit."

A larger simian- more of a gorilla than a monkey- stomped over to the cockpit as the captain- an ape of sorts- stepped aside, allowing the gorilla 'Kong' to clamber onto the Wolfen and effortless pull the slumbering Andrew from the fighter. Kong then crossed the field towards the recovery team's shuttle. The snowstorms had died down now, but as the team's planetary specialist pointed out, another one was due in shortly. The captain- Cornelius Sun- rallied a retreat and immediate evacuation back to Venom.

"What about the Wolfen fighter, captain?" the shuttle pilot queried.

"It'll have to stay, Lieutenant. We need to get out of here before Andross' nephew loses what's left of his sanity…"

And with that, Recovery Team Echo boarded their shuttle just before the next blizzard set in and blasted off Fichina in a hurry, barely managing to dodge the storm…

Three days later…

Recovery Team Echo finally began their approach to Andross' fortress, the acidic seas boiling and brewing between the desolate lands beneath them. Captain Sun stood in the cockpit behind the pilot- Lieutenant Spider Monkey- who charged towards the expansive Venomian castle at full speed. The barren plains of Venom leading up to Andross' fortress were lifeless and devoid of landmasses for Monkey to almost collide with. It was only a few minutes before the shuttle began to lower at one of the fortress landing pads. The jets blasted against the metal pads, bursting out at all angles as the shuttle carefully dropped down. Within seconds, the jets slowly died as the boarding ramp slammed open, with Sun directing Kong out onto the pad with a stretcher in tow, leading the gorilla bruiser towards an interior chamber. Monkey stayed with the ship, whilst Sun and Kong disappeared into the Venomian castle.

Sun and Kong charged through the hallways of the dark castle, bending and jerking down new corridors towards the castle infirmary close to the centre of the fortress, the unconscious Andrew asleep upon a stretcher. As they burst in, the stark contrast struck the pair and blinded them; gone were the dark hallowing halls of the castle, and in they stepped towards a room clad in bright blue and white, the deep foreboding Venomian architecture replaced with simple comforting Cornerian design. Sun and Kong wheeled the stretcher over to a bed behind a sheet and swiftly yet calmly swapped Andrew to the bed, awaiting for the doctor help settle the poor monkey into his recovery. Doctors and nurses in the employ of the Venomian Army flooded the infirmary, quickly flushing the two commandos out. Sun and Kong then rested outside for hours in the dark gloomy corridors as the echoes of the castle seemingly bounced from wall to wall, ringing in their ears and cutting them through.

The hours drained by, the anxiety and insecurity of what was happening weighed down on them. Andrew may have been a fool hated by most of the Venomian Army (with many believing that even his own uncle Andross loathed having him around), but to see him in such a state troubled everyone. Sun contemplated just why he saved Andrew and why he took such great care; could he truly not see another person suffer so much, or was the truth a little more self-concerning? Did he want to see Andrew recover, or did he just want to escape Andross' wrath? The captain shook his head and huffed, conflicted in his thoughts. Kong sat in silence, his thoughts completely unfocused on the situation. He was just doing what he was told to do, and he didn't think of much else.

The hours continued on before the echoes of heaving breaths rung down the corridors. Before long, a huge hulking figure of white, red and gold appeared as if to have spawned from the shadows themselves and stood before Sun and Kong. Sun couldn't see the figure clearly at first, but sprung to attention (awakening a sleeping Kong as he did so) and stood firm. He was in the presence of Lord Andross.

"Lord Andross, sir. Andrew has been recovered from Fichina and the medical staff are seeing to his condition." Sun proclaimed, a still rather tired Kong slowly slipping down to sleep again before jolting back up.

Andross slumped over and looked Sun straight in the visor. Lucky the visor was a solid state, Sun thought. He didn't want to think of the idea of an angry cosmic being like Andross staring directly into his eyes. The would-be emperor soon crossed a large grin on his face, and boomed, "You are the commando responsible for the recovery of my… nephew from Fichina, correct?"

"Affirmative, my lord. Captain Cornelius Sun of Recovery Team Echo. This is Kong, my heavy. Our pilot awaits at our shuttle."

Andross' grin slowly faded as he glanced towards the infirmary. "Is he still alive?"

Sun looked back to the light coming from within. "He was when the doctors took over."

Andross grew silent before returning his gaze to Sun and Kong. "Could you ask for Star Wolf to see me in the infirmary, Captain Sun?"

"Affirmative, my lord." Sun began to walk away with Kong in tow before stopping to query, "Do you wish for the entire team, or merely its captain, Lord Andross?"

Andross had swooped over to the infirmary and was about to open the doors before he growled in a sinister gravel, "Just bring them to me…"

Sun and Kong once again patrolled through the gothic-like corridors of Andross' castle, weaving and bending through the intertwined halls like a snake hunting in the long grass. Despite the seemingly maze-like complex, Sun and Kong quickly and easily reached the barracks in the southern quadrant of fortress. And it was a short time before they found the three remaining pilots of Star Wolf, hiding out in a darkened canteen. Sun and Kong passed by various other monkeys, apes and lizards under the Venomian Army as they marched towards the dank corner where Star Wolf sat in predatory silence. All three pilots- Wolf, Leon and Pigma- simply watched as the Echo commandos approached, their evil-like eyes glaring at the simians who would dare head in their direction, even dare to speak with them. Alas, these were no lesser peons of Andross' empire.

Sun raised a hand to Kong, stopping the hulking and slumped gorilla in his tracks, whilst the commando captain stepped forward, leaving the hustle and bustle of the barracks and dropping into a small game of poker between the mercs. The canteen stunk of whiskey, tobacco and a stale potato crisp smell. At the centre, the game's first three cards; a nine of clubs, king of spades and jack of hearts. Pigma groaned aloud and folded, Leon met the current bet with fifty Venomian coin chips, whilst Wolf raised to a hundred.

The dealer placed the next card down, but Sun broke into the game: "Lord Andross requests your attendance. He waits for you in the infirmary."

Wolf howled, "Ah, dammit. I was sure I had a winnin' hand there." He threw his cards face up; the ten and queen of spades to match the newly-paced jack.

"I should have known." Leon hissed, throwing down his cards too. "You have been cheating, captain." Leon too had a queen of spades, as well as the queen of hearts.

"Didn't call a bluff, Leon. I might've gotten away with it."

"W-Wait a minute…" Pigma stammered, facing his cards down. This drew Wolf's ire, but the swine ignored his shouting. "A-Andross wants to see… all of us?"

"Just get over to the infirmary, on the double. I'm sure Lord Andross will deal with you there." Sun turned to walk away, but felt something pull on his arm. He looked back to see a grey furred sleeve tugging against him.

Wolf stood from the table and his frame became lit under the stronger light. His top was now wrapped around his waist, a black T-shirt with a tribal wolf design- in pure white- was emblazoned across his chest, and his arms were exposed to reveal the lupine's savage bulk. A dead cigar hung from his muzzle, the ash dropping to the floor as he moved and stopped.

"You're part of the team who brought Andross' idiot nephew back, right?" Wolf growled, his dead cigar falling clumsily from his mouth as he spoke. It hit the floor and scattered harmless dust on the tiles.

With cautious eyes, Sun looked back and quizzed, "Why do you wish to know?"

"I've heard about you, Cornelius Sun. You fought during the insurgency way back when. You would've stood against someone like Andross back then. Why fight for him now?"

Sun fully turned back to face the lupine mercenary. Wolf towered over the average-height simian, but Sun was not intimidated. "I could ask the same of you. People change, O'Donnell. As I'm sure you are aware."

"Just answer the question, smartass."

"The Ten Years of Recovery was far too peaceful for my liking, and there's no loyalty to be found in mercenary work. You're the perfect example of a warrior's spirit who's forgotten what loyalty means." Wolf sized up a fist and struck Sun across the chops. He simply growled in anger as the ape briefly lost his balance only to quickly recover. Sun stood firm and concluded, "A true soldier wouldn't strike his allies to silence their thoughts. He'd take their feedback on-board and work towards betterment. You're only working for Lord Andross for the money."

"Yeah, and what the hell makes you any better? When this is all said and done, you're getting a fat stack of cash just like the rest of us."

"Because I will work towards seeing a new age come to the Lylat system. That is my payment. Once you've got your reward, you'll simply move on to the next fool offering you, as you say, 'a fat stack of cash'. You hold no honour or loyalty to a cause, O'Donnell." Sun shook himself free from Wolf and stormed off.

Wolf snarled and spat on the floor. He turned back, grabbed his glass from the table and snapped, "High-and-mighty asshole." He knocked back the glass of whiskey, and groaned, "Come on, boys. Let's go see what Andross wants now…"

The three mercenaries- stinking of whiskey and tobacco- marched through the barracks into the winding corridors of the castle. Wolf led from the front, whilst Leon and Pigma followed him. Like him, Wolf's fellow pilots had dressed down following the mission on Fichina and debrief with Andross. Leon was now dressed in a sleek black undersuit lacking shoes (he claimed too much clothing restricted his breathing) whilst Pigma donned a white vest- stained with crisp flavouring and stale ashes- and cargo trousers with black boots. They wandered around before coming across the infirmary, where a doctor waited outside for them.

The doctor wretched from their stink, but nonetheless composed himself to commune with the hirelings. He pointed at Leon and Pigma and pronounced, "You two stay out here. Lord Andross only wishes to speak with O'Donnell for now."

Leon slumped against the wall, whilst Pigma nervously twitched as he sat down. Wolf rolled his eyes and groaned, "Pulled us all away from a game of poker just to speak to me? I'm flattered."

The doctor snarled at him, "Don't fool yourself, O'Donnell. Lord Andross is deeply troubled by your unruly behaviour."

As Wolf brushed passed and opened the door, he mumbled, "Don't get your panties in a twist, doc. Andross' beef isn't your concern." Wolf stepped through and slowly crossed the infirmary hall, each footstep echoing throughout the silent ward. As he passed each exposed bed, Wolf noticed each and every injured Venomian soldier waylaid in battle. Then he came to the last bed on the ward, covered by a curtain. Wolf pulled back the sheet and stepped within, as if he entered another reality. The bright lights in the rest of the ward vanished, only a single light emitted a chilling glow upon the bed. Andrew was still delirious from his time on Fichina, but the colour of his skin had returned to him, albeit not in full. His beloved uncle- a mass of organic mass and synthetic hardware- towered over the bed, holding the snow monkey by the hand.

"You are in good hands now, Andrew. The infirmary staff will see to your quick recovery." The mad tyrant proclaimed, an odd otherworldly tone to his voice.

From weak eyes, Andrew meekly moaned, "Thank you, uncle… you saved me… I knew you would…"

"Rest now, nephew. I have need of you, when you recover." Andross' sinister golden eyes glared as Wolf came into peripheral sight, staring harshly at the lupine mercenary when he halted on the other side of Andrew's bed.

Wolf looked down at his wounded 'comrade' and with a cocky smirk he boasted, "Looks like the idiot's gonna pull through, huh?"

Andross' tense stare erupted into a demonic roar as he seemingly phased straight through the bed, seized Wolf by the throat and slammed the mercenary against the wall. Andrew had seemingly slipped into unconsciousness again and was sleeping, remaining undisturbed by what was happening mere metres from his bed. The tyrant grinded Wolf up the wall higher than he should have been capable of, as the room continued to darken despite the lighting of the infirmary. It was like they had properly stepped into a different room, possibly even a different world.

Andross drew his face- snarling and spitting- directly into Wolf's muzzle. "You should consider yourself very fortunate, Wolf O'Donnell. Andrew was barely a few hours away from certain death, and his death would have been on your hands."

Wolf clawed at Andross' strangely enlarged hand as he squeezed his neck tighter and tighter. Despite this situation, Wolf remained relatively calm; he didn't kick at Andross or even attempt to shout for help. He merely attempted to loosen the mad mogul's grip whilst wheezing out a short response, "W-Well… He ain't dead… A-A-"

"Be silent, O'Donnell." Andross growled beneath a hushed breath. The light in the infirmary seemingly began to return as Andross slowly lowered Wolf back down to the floor, Andrew still sleeping away as if nothing had even happened. Andross' subtle enlargement eased, before he slumped back down to Andrew's side to watch over him. "Despite your insolence, you have proven useful time and time again over these last five years. Impressive work for a man in your line of work."

Wolf crossed his arms in a huff and scoffed, "I don't get paid until you sit your ass on Corneria. And with Star Fox runnin' around, it doesn't look like that's gonna happen."

"And in the possibility that Star Fox and the Cornerian Army breach the garrison above this planet, I have you and your fellows to defend the palace. And if you take them seriously this time, then they shall be crushed thoroughly."

Wolf slowly bore a grin. "It's not a case of possibilities with Star Fox. The kid leading those has-beens is an old friend of mine; we go a little ways back."

"The son of James McCloud." Andross growled with his sinister tone. Wolf's lone eye bulged in shock. "I know your history with the McCloud clan, and if I didn't know any better, I would believe that you allowed McCloud the Second to survive Fichina, on purpose."

Ah, screw it. "Guilty as charged." Wolf sneered, his grin still in place.

Andross' face went completely flat and uninterested. "Just make sure they are disposed of, IF they reach Venom. I don't want a repeat of what happened the last time we held the Star Fox Team within our grasp."

Wolf's gaze dropped to the floor. It had been five years since the old Star Fox Team had been captured by Andross' first foundation, back when the team consisted of three pilots: Peppy Hare (who managed to escape), Pigma Dengar (who had been secretly on Andross' pay-check for a few years prior), and their leader, James F. McCloud, who perished on that faithful day. Remembering that day reminded Wolf of his fight with James' son Fox on Fichina, and how something in him felt… off, since the encounter roughly three days prior. Wolf then realised something else; the hollow feeling after he beat Fox… it was similar to the one he felt when James died. Despite their differences, Wolf and James held a long-rooted and powerful respect for each other's skills as a pilot and soldier-for-hire. When James was killed, Wolf felt a small part of him (a really small part, he would constantly tell himself) die with the vulpine. The lupine shook his head and stormed out of Andrew's bed, leaving Andross behind.

Before he left earshot, Wolf stopped and barked out, "Do you wanna talk to my guys or…?"

"No… I have no need to speak with them…"

"Good…"

Wolf continued on, the light flooding his frame a distorting his shadow as passed from one glow to the next. He stepped out into the darkness, rallied Leon and Pigma and returned to the barracks as quickly as possible. It was almost night by now, and most of the Venomian soldiers had retired to their bunks by now. Star Wolf saw themselves as no exception, the addition of whiskey warming them up and lightening their heads. They each stripped off their clothes down to some sleeping clothes; Pigma slung his manky vest on the floor beside his bunk, his fat pink slab of a stomach sloshing with whiskey, as he slammed down on his bunk, the mattress sagging through, almost touching the ground. Leon slipped off his undersuit and even removed his underwear- a form-fitting pair of purple trunks- before gliding into his bunk, his unmentionables baring in the cold air of the barracks. Wolf took off his shirt and boots and loosened his sleeves at his waist before climbing the frame of his bunk and thumping down heavily in the bunk. He undid the latch on his eyepatch and slipped the accessory over a pillar on the bunk. He slumped down on his back and heaved, rubbing his lost eye in solemnness. Something was keeping him from sleeping, which his bunkmate called out to him on.

"Can't sleep, captain?" Leon's hushed assassin tones echoed up.

Wolf heaved again, dropping his arm off the side of the bunk. "Leon… do you think I'm an asshole?"

"Why do you ask?"

"We kicked Star Fox's asses back on Fichina. I even kicked the shit of McCloud, I beat him. I've been wantin' to do that for almost twenty damn years. Now I've finally done it… and I just feel like an asshole."

"Your vendetta against Star Fox was with the father, wasn't it? Perhaps your dissatisfaction with defeating Star Fox comes from your inner bitterness towards the older McCloud. Your rivalry was much more personal than against his son after all."

Wolf pondered this for a moment, before scoffing, "Yeah right. Just forget I said anything." Wolf rolled onto one side and snarled as he tossed the words around his head.

Leon- wide-eyed beneath Wolf- merely calmly sighed, "Let those words sit with you, captain. Perhaps you can come to some kind of conclusion with them."

Wolf barked out, "Since when did a cold-blooded assassin know so much about this therapy bullshit?"

"I've spent over thirty years as an assassin, Wolf. For over thirty years, I have looked upon my actions and asked whether I am a sinner or merely a man doing whatever it takes to survive with the only skills he knows."

"I thought you said you were born forty-three years ago."

"As I said, the only skills I know."

Wolf grew silent and rolled onto his other side before settling on his back again. Something still played heavily on his mind, something he was seemingly no closer to solving…