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Chapter 25: Final Masquerade

Part 1: Frontier Psychiatrist

The Great Fox's hangar doors slid open a crack, large enough for Phoenix to slip through. He was immediately hit by a gust of wind, which rustled his hair and clothes. Lylat's sun, though dimmed by red and orange clouds, still blinded him with a brighter light than the Fox's interior provided. Phoenix raised his elbow to cover his eyes, peering out over the landscape.

Phoenix had seen better and worse places than Katina. The majority of the planet was arid, but terraformers were hard at work melting the icecaps at the north and south poles. This process provided water for farmers to irrigate their flora, also forming unnatural streams and wetlands the environment wasn't ready for. Drab colors dominated the scenery: dark brown, nearly black soil made up the ground, while red clouds covered most of the faint green sky. It was hard for Phoenix to comprehend why anyone would want to live there.

Wolf was kind enough to deposit the Great Fox in a barren plot of dirt used for a trailer home. The farmers lived in a government-sponsored commune, sharing tools, equipment, and vehicles stored in nearby farmhouses. Of the three arwings, only Krystal's remained—Slippy and Falco having left with theirs weeks prior. Not that Krystal would be taking her ship for a spin anytime soon.

As Phoenix left the hulking behemoth of a dreadnought, curious families watched him from the trailer park. It wasn't uncommon for them to witness off-worlders in their area, considering their prime location for refugees and criminals looking for a place to settle down. Though Katina was often described as Corneria's front-line base, most of the military outposts were located around the planet's equator, so as not to interfere with terraforming and agricultural efforts. Larger cities were also built nearer the equator. These housed factory workers who operated grain refineries and shipping centers. The farms were located closer to the north and south poles, where the climate was cooler and most of the water was located. These farmlands and undisturbed prairies were the perfect escape for Cornerian refugees, exiled politicians, or retired criminals to get away to. Right under the Cornerians' very noses.

Phoenix strolled off of the dirt park and onto the main road that cut straight through the farmlands. On both sides of the asphalt path were evidence of efforts to tap the planet's resources. The vulpine passed by a variety of crops; multicolored spices, corn, and wheat grew in rows on dry plains, while cane and rice grew in flooded fields. Standing tall amongst the crops were wind turbines, rotating their black blades lazily in the wind. They powered the farmers' equipment, the small communes, and sparse villages across the countryside.

It was quite a walk before Phoenix arrived at one of these villages. It was tucked away in a valley of hills, removed from the public eye. The practical arrangement would have been for Phoenix to live in the village, but the nature of its inhabitants unsettled him, and he preferred staying in the familiar Great Fox.

The settlement was only composed of a few buildings. A large hospital that doubled as a mental asylum was the largest, while private residences and housing for the hospital staff made up the rest. Criminals or Cornerian refugees paid to have their insane relatives or wounded friends treated at the hospital. For some, it was temporary until they were healed enough to leave. For others, the arrangement was permanent.

Phoenix entered the hospital's lobby. A troop of guards stopped him at the entrance, checking his ID before letting him pass. The hospital was affiliated with Sargasso, meaning Wolf had direct control over it. The assortment of valuable patients meant guards were necessary to keep the peace from any agents sent to collect a bounty on the defenseless. Or to prevent the patients from escaping.

The receptionist okayed his visit, sending a guard to escort him. He walked with the bearded dragon soldier to his desired room, and the lizard stationed himself outside to give him privacy. Phoenix paused before the door to room 118. He gripped the doorknob, softly turning it and pushing the door open.

For the most part, it was a bland, white room devoid of even a hint of feeling or emotion. In some cultures, the white color meant sterility and perfection. But in others Phoenix had witnessed, it simply meant death. He had tried to liven the place up during the week he visited. He brought some of the brightest field flowers he could find on Katina. He placed them in beer bottles he found in Krystal's room, filling them with water. He hoped the alcohol wouldn't affect the flowers in any way, but they showed no sign of wilting prematurely.

Krystal lay face-up on a bed against the left wall. Her sleeping form was clearly visible in the harsh fluorescent light—the only source of light since they didn't even give her room with a window. She was dressed in a hospital gown, both arms spread out across the bed, almost as if she were offering herself up to heaven or death. Both of her wrists ended in sewed-up stumps covered in bandages. Wires and tubes extended from the crooks of her elbows, feeding her intravenously with both food and blood. The funny thing about blood and organ donations in the hospital was that they never seemed to have a shortage. Wolf's Sargasso Syndicate regularly donated to the center. After all, they had no need for their corpses.

Phoenix pulled up a cheap metal chair to the bedside, and sat down beside Krystal's sleeping form. She was alive. An electrocardiogram persistently beeped away, indicating her disconcertingly low pulse. The doctors were mostly rude and tight-lipped about her condition. He managed to get out of them that Krystal had experienced extreme psychological shock. After a persistent vegetative state, she slipped into a coma, and wouldn't respond to any outside stimulation. The shock of having her hands blown off, coupled with her deteriorating psychotic state and physical health all contributed to her present condition. He asked the doctors if there was any chance of a recovery, but they just pursed their lips and gave no answer. If her coma resulted in death, Phoenix assumed her blood and organs would simply go to feeding the rest of the living patients.

The tod let out a broken sigh, looking over the vixen's motionless body. And what if she did survive? Would she sleep the rest of her life away in a vegetative state, dreaming through cycles of nightmares, reliving the worst moments of her life? And even if she did wake up... would Krystal want to keep on living? Her eyes would open, and they'd have the same yearning for blood and revenge as they always did. Yet then it would be different. Wolf robbed her of the tools she used to satisfy those desires. She couldn't grip her favorite pistols anymore, couldn't fly her arwing, or even hold a can of beer. Phoenix could take care of her, find work as a farmhand on Katina, but all he would give her was more disappointment.

He stared fearfully at Krystal's closed eyelids, remembering the last look she gave him: betrayal. If she woke up, she'd never forgive him. What kind of a life is that? he asked himself. For either of us? Krystal bound to life by the one person she hated most in the world, always to remind him of his failure. Wolf could have killed her. But he didn't. It took self-restraint like Black Mamba said, but he knew withholding death would mean condemning Krystal to a living hell. He knew living would be torture for Krystal.

A blaster poked into Phoenix's abdomen and stomach, concealed by his shirt and pants. He wondered if there was any other way out for the two of them. The pair seemed to be everyone's target; the common enemy that united the whole of the Lylat System. Pepper and the Cornerians betrayed them. Wolf and the entire criminal syndicate under his command betrayed them. Even their teammates betrayed them, leaving them to the twisted fate they chose. Phoenix considered the possibility of escape. Leaving the Lylat System with Krystal, and settling down somewhere thousands of lightyears away. Just get up and run... and never look back.

But worst of all... he had betrayed Krystal. He was the only one left willing to take care of her and be her hands, yet at the same time, he was the reason she had lost those hands. He felt like both the cure and the sickness. She could never run from him, and he could never run from himself.

Phoenix slipped the gun out, glancing towards the door to make sure it was closed. The blaster shook in his hands as he studied it. Maybe this was the only way out. Wolf knew keeping Krystal alive was better than execution. So why not kill her? It would put an end to her nightmares and misery. If he failed redeeming her, he might as well admit it and abort everything now.

The young vulpine lowered the blaster at Krystal's oblivious form. She deserved death, didn't she? Not only was it best for her, but it's what justice demanded. He couldn't count the number of people she killed, and surely Krystal had lost track herself. Other bounty-hunters, Cornerian soldiers just doing their duty, innocents who happened to be in the way... and friends she was just too paranoid to trust, too quick to sniff out betrayal in. She would've killed him as well, if he hadn't run. But maybe that would have been for the best.

The blaster continued to shake in Phoenix's hands. He gripped it with a second paw to stabilize it, but it only doubled the shaking. His eyes were wide and tear-filled, his teeth ground together as he struggled to make a decision. A voice inside told him she was the cause of all of his pain. She chose a dark path for herself, then dragged others like Phoenix down to combat her loneliness. She made him kill for the first time. She took away his friends and the people he loved. Kitty, Vince, Scarlet, Sheila. Even in the short time he knew them, they had reached out to him and shown him kindness and trust. Yet she took them all away, sometimes manipulating him to pull the trigger. Slowly Krystal chipped away at Phoenix, destroying his morals, his philosophy, and his concept of god, until all of them were gone. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he no longer had anything to guide him. Nothing to base his 'right' and 'wrong' on. No compass to lead him down the path of life. Nothing to tell him what to do or guide his actions. His future was up to him and him alone. The choice was completely and utterly his. And that scared Phoenix.

The vulpine began to sniff as salty droplets rolled down his cheeks. He leaned forward, resting his head on the edge of the bed, blaster still extended towards Krystal. He stared down at the blurry floor between his feet, which soon became wet from his tears.

"Please," he sobbed.

"Please, someone...

"Anyone...

"Any god...

"Any thing...

"Please tell me

"What to do."

He sat like that for some time, frozen by indecision. When a veritable puddle of tears had amassed on the floor, he loosened his grip on the gun. He let the blaster fall onto the sheets, and rose from the chair. Carefully, he raised the delicate IV tubes and slid into the bed next to Krystal. He wrapped his arms around her unconscious body and pressed his muzzle against the side of her face.

Closing his eyes, he whispered, "I'm so sorry, Krystal. I'll find a way. I swear, I'll find a way. I won't fail you ever again."

His eyes still watered as the pillow pressed against his cheek. He slowed his breathing, until it matched the sluggish rise and fall of Krystal's own chest. But the hospital lights were so bright...

"Hey Phoenix. It's me."

…

"You might not know who I am, but I don't blame you."

…

"Even if we've never met, you know more about me than you realize."

…

"I'm... sorry for never talking to you like this. We should have spoken sooner."

…

"But enough about me. Let's talk about Krystal."

Phoenix stared up at the blinding sun, a white circle with pulsating darker blotches swimming around in a frenzy. Grass tickled his appendages and his cheek. The songs of insects and wild birds became audible. At the edges of the sky, tropical leaves and branches swayed. He was in some jungle, but it didn't seem like Fortuna. The flora was... different.

He sat up, scanning the tree line in a circle around him. Suddenly, a patch of bushes broke open, revealing a large rodent scurrying out of the undergrowth. It barreled through the open hollow, running right past him. Yet as soon as he turned to gaze after it, a second creature broke through the thicket of bushes. He turned back and was surprised to see a young girl chasing after the rodent with a golden staff. The blue-furred vixen was only clad in a bronze brassier and white loincloth, which flapped in the breeze. She was much younger than him, looking to be in her preteens. The vixen was dangerously skinny and deprived of nutrition, already struggling to keep up with her prey.

In a flash, she zipped by Phoenix, paying him no attention just as the rodent neglected to. Phoenix turned and followed the small hunter into the jungle, easily keeping pace with them both. The chase eventually came to an end when the rodent slipped into a cave in the side of a cliff. Krystal jumped into the mouth after it, and Phoenix was soon to follow. At the bottom of the steep incline, the junior hunter found the animal trying to limp away. It favored a paw it must have broken from the fall, and now had no hope of escaping Krystal.

The young vixen approached her prey, noticing its broken leg. A look of pity and anguish took hold of her face, and she halted where she stood. Phoenix thought she would have taken a step back, but a growl emanated from the girl's flat stomach. Lifting the gold staff above her head, she whimpered something in a language Phoenix didn't understand. It sounded comforting, like a promise that its death would be swift and painless. She closed her eyes, and brought the head of the staff down on the creature.

The rodent squealed horribly in protest, as the hunter's blow had missed its mark. The vixen forced herself to look at the creature this time, sobbing apology after apology as she bashed the animal's skull in. When her prey moved no more, the vixen was overcome with tears. She sat down beside the rodent, cradling its limp body in her lap. She cried and whispered in its ear, and Phoenix felt his own heart moved by the sight. He wanted to reach out and comfort the girl, but he knew it would be useless. The gesture was late. Many years too late.

Finally recovering somewhat, the girl swung the animal and staff across her back and attempted to scale out of the cave. The rock precipice was steep and unforgiving. The bright green glow from the jungle above taunted her, yet she could not climb higher than a few feet before sliding back down to the cave floor. She was trapped in the pit with the creature she killed.

The sapphire-furred vixen gave up on climbing out. She sat down and lay the animal across a flat stone in front of her, then drew a crude knife to carve it with. Phoenix noticed the trouble and hesitation she had with starting the task. It was clear she had never cleaned an animal before, and from the fear in her eyes, the shaking knife, and quiet sniffles echoing through the cave, Phoenix could tell she didn't want to.

Once again putting aside her reservations, she slit the rodents belly open, crying out when blood and entrails leaked out onto the rock. Phoenix felt more and more pity as the girl struggled to clean the beast, then finally taking her first bite of the crudely-prepared meat.

"It kinda gets you right here, doesn't it?"

Phoenix was startled by the new voice that spoke in the cave. He looked up, but was surprised when he identified its source. His mouth dropped open.

On his left stood a fox wearing a green flight suit and white jacket. A red scarf adorned his neck, and he stood watching the girl with a tear in his eye. When he noticed Phoenix staring at him, he looked up and returned his gaze.

It felt like Phoenix was looking in a mirror.

"Wh-wha?" Phoenix stumbled.

His doppelganger smirked. "No, I'm not some evil clone of yours. I'm Fox. Fox McCloud."

He extended a hand to Phoenix, but the tod didn't take it.

"B-but... you're dead!

Fox let his hand drop to his side. He scratched the back of his head. "Funny thing is, when you die you tend to leave pieces of yourself with the people you're closest to. But I didn't come here to talk about me. I came to talk about Krystal." He looked back down at the blue fox hungrily devouring the red meat.

"Are you... showing this memory to me?"

"In a manner of speaking. You see, I pretty much found Krystal like this. She was a wild thing. Free-spirited. She lived for years alone on this planet, hunting and killing for her food. I guess this is how it all started."

Phoenix followed his gaze to the crying vixen. "Was there ever a time when she was happy?"

"When she was home, with her family—before that was all taken away. Whenever she was by my side—until I disappeared as well. No, I'd say there were only a few brief periods of respite in her life."

"Was Krystal happy when she was with me?" Phoenix asked, hopefully.

Fox's smirk disappeared, still watching the vixen devour her meal. "You did the best you could, Phoenix. But I'm afraid just trying doesn't cut it. You never committed to changing yourself."

"What? And ending up like Krystal? A murderer? If you look at it that way, I've already changed. For the worse. She made me the killer I am now. I... I wish I had held onto my innocence. My morals. I wish I had never taken a life. I wish I hadn't changed."

Fox shook his head and began circling around Krystal. He stopped when the vixen lay between them, facing across her at Phoenix. "Change isn't always bad, Phoenix. Doesn't a part of you want to change Krystal? Put an end to her blood-lust and hate? Return her to the loving creature she used to be?"

"Of course I want that. I'd give anything for it."

"Then how do you expect to change someone else if you can't even change yourself?"

Phoenix opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn't come up with an answer. "What do you... what is that supposed to mean?"

"You want Krystal to change—to become the person you want her to be. You can only achieve that by becoming the person she wants you to be."

"Oh?" Phoenix retorted. "And just who is this person?"

Fox stared blankly at him until Phoenix came up with the answer himself.

"Y... you?"

"Seem kinda full of myself, don't I? But it makes perfect sense. She saw a lot of me in you the first time you both met. That's why she brought you onto the team. That's why she trained you to shoot a gun and fly an arwing. That's why she opened up to you all those lonely nights. She was holding onto this glimmer of hope—however faint—that you could resurrect me. That you could be her new Fox McCloud. Everyone's seen it. Falco, Slippy, Scarlet, Wolf... and I know you don't want to admit it, but you've known it all along, too."

"I don't care! So what if she's attracted to me just because I have an ugly mug like yours!"

Fox shook his head again, a gesture which began to infuriate Phoenix. "That's how you've responded to anyone who confronted you with the truth. Just because you "don't care" doesn't mean the uncomfortable truth will just disappear. Like it or not, you can't define others' realities at will. If you think anyone besides me could save her at this point, you're horribly misguided."

"And what would you suggest I do?" Phoenix asked, staring down his muzzle at the other vulpine.

"Become me."

"You mean lie to myself and Krystal?"

"It's the only way you can save her, and you know it. I was the last chance she had at redemption—of finding love in the Lylat and giving her a reason to live. But now that I'm gone, you're the only one who can give her that."

"So I have to pretend to be you in some ultimate deception? That would deny my own identity! I would lose myself as a person!"

"Sometimes, who you are isn't a good person. Everyone needs to change something about themselves."

"What do you mean I'm not a good person! Don't you understand I'm the shhhawgkk—" Phoenix choked on his own words, unable to continue speaking. Something was crawling its way up his esophagus, pinching and poking the insides of his throat. He fell to his knees at the base of the cliff, coughing and spluttering while grabbing his neck. He opened his mouth to vomit the creature out, but instead of a hundred-legged monster, a pile of feces fell out.

While Phoenix continued choking, Fox took advantage of his silence to speak. "No Phoenix, you are not a good person. Words and good intentions don't change reality. Actions do. No matter how many times you repeat something to yourself, you won't accomplish anything."

"I said," Phoenix wheezed, "I'm the shawhgkgkk—"

Another surge of crap was expulsed from the vulpine's muzzle, piling atop the first heap.

In response to Phoenix's stubbornness, Fox sighed and knelt down beside him. He placed a paw on his back. "You know you can't go on like this forever. Something's got to change, or else the story will end the same way it always does."

"But I'm the shhhkkkah—"

"I hate to be the one to burst your bubble, Phoenix, but you're not."

"I swear to god I'm the ahkguh—!"

"You think changing is bad somehow; that your only choice is to be a sadistic murderer like Krystal, or stubbornly be yourself. Well, there's a false dichotomy if ever I saw one."

"No! I'm the fucking shgahkk—"

"Truth is, you think you're a pretty good guy for going back to the good 'ol Phoenix and not killing incessantly. Yeah, I'll give you credit for that. That's the least you could ask of anyone; don't kill. But that's no reason to stop there. You can't say, "at least I'm not a bad person." 'Cause the reality of it is, you are a pretty horrible excuse for a person. Let's see, where to begin... you're skinny. You don't eat enough."

Phoenix tried to drown out Fox's stabbing words with his mantra—his only defense.

"I'm the... haaaackkk—"

"You're weak. You couldn't lift a girl an inch off the ground, much less protect her."

"I'm the—"

"You're a coward. You can't face any of your fears head-on without bitching about it."

"I'm the—"

"You're a liar; the worst kind. You lie to protect yourself—never to benefit others."

"I'm—"

"You're the great Betrayer. You sold Krystal out to Meinhard and Wolf when she needed to trust you the most. Fuck your intentions; you don't get brownie points for trying."

"I'm the goddamn—"

"And don't get me wrong. I know you struggle with low self-esteem and all that. You drink and smoke and self-harm isn't beyond you, and it's good to think with a positive outlook. But don't let that turn you into an overconfident asshole!"

By this time, Phoenix had vomited up so much fecal matter that the cave was flooded with it, and tiny Krystal was nowhere to be seen. While Phoenix was up to his neck in his own revolting waste, Fox somehow walked on the surface like it was solid. He used his vantage point above the sewage muck to preach down to Phoenix.

"The villain of everyone's own life is themselves. It's not this inescapable cave down which you fell, nor the blue-furred succubus dragging you towards hell. There's no angel or demon riding your shoulders, no god-like crane giving your orders. No centipede will make you die; it's just thee, thyself, and thy. Now REPEAT, AFTER, ME..."

The fox bent down until his head was just a few inches away from Phoenix's, and he grabbed the vulpine by his hair.

"I. Am. Not. The shit."

"Fuck you! Why don't you come down here with me!?" Phoenix screamed at his alter ego, but he was about to drown in the sea of waste.

"Say it! I am not the shit!"

"NO! Go back to Venom where you blubblub—Ack!" Feces began to find their way back into Phoenix's mouth, threatening to fill up his lungs and suffocate him.

"Now! Before you drown yourself, boy!"

Phoenix tilted his head backwards, raising his nose above the brown pit. The crap now rose above his eyes, forcing him to close them tightly. If he didn't do something in the next few half-seconds, he would...