X
Mission No. 41
Corneria
Capital City Air Force Base
The Proving Grounds
X
Fara soared over the countryside on the far outskirts of Corneria City. She passed over rolling hills, patchwork quilts of plains, and ridges of lush green mountains. Carrying her high above the land was a newer test version of the Arwing: the A-23. It was the latest in a long series of prototypes, each slightly improved over the last till the one she was flying now significantly-outclassed the models Star Fox currently owned. They were always intended for mass production, but perfecting the revolutionary G-diffuser required years of testing to reach that point.
The Arwing was the love child of both Arspace Dynamics and Phoenix Corp, precipitating their eventual merger. Early on pilot James McCloud – an up-and-coming mercenary at the time – struck a deal with them. He needed new fighter craft, and he needed them cheap; something that could give him an edge over the competition. They'd give his team three of the prototypes free of charge, and in exchange he'd both promote and extensively fly the ships for testing purposes. Even after James' death they continued the tradition with his son, Fox, after he rescued both Fara and her father.
The Arwing turned out to be more than a success – beyond what either company could have dreamed. During the Lylat War, photos and videos of team Star Fox's daring escapades flooded the system. Investors saw the great craftsmanship and ingenuity that went into the vehicle, and Arspace even incorporated the ship into their logo.
Now Fara flew the crowning achievement of the Arwing project – what was likely to be the final version used in mass production. Soon, every fleet in the Cornerian military would be outfitted with a squad of the advanced fighters, and little could stand in their way. That was, as long as their contract with Corneria held.
At first she cruised low to the ground, watching as trees, boulders, and rows of crops zoomed past underneath her. Then she ascended to 30,000 ft, bringing the A-23 above the clouds. As a test pilot she had many obligations to fill, and usually wasn't allowed to fly however she wanted. So she followed the test plan, taking the ship through a series of maneuvers. She took mental note of how the Arwing performed during each one, while the flight data recorder logged the ship's vitals simultaneously.
She switched back-and-forth between the ship's different flight modes; closing the wings so it could fly at fast cruising speeds, then opening them to allow for tighter maneuvers in all-range mode. They'd cut the time it took to switch between the two down to just a few seconds, allowing for near-instantaneous transitions.
Settling in all-range mode, she performed a sequence of difficult maneuvers at high speeds. She executed rolls, spins, loops, and spirals, then tested how fast she could accelerate and brake. In any other fighter craft, the pilot would've blacked out after the first few exercises – but not the Arwing, which was all thanks to the G-diffuser lessening the amount of inertia on the occupant. Even with the complex maneuvers and tricks, it was the smoothest ride Fara had ever felt. The A-23 truly was a wonder of a beast.
Though most considered test flying work, Fara enjoyed it. To her it was a release from the weight of her other duties. Her father intended her to inherit his company someday. Fara wanted no part in it, but, seeing as Edison had no other heir, he had no choice. So he took it upon himself to slowly bring her into the fold of Phoenix Corp, hiring a private tutor to instruct her in business management. Fara hated learning about such matters; she preferred test flying, or even simply being in the air. The family business had so many headaches and stresses associated with it that Fara didn't feel eager to get involved.
Test flying allowed her to escape from all that. Here she could forget about the worries of the company and her tedious lessons. She flew so high she couldn't see the ground; the troubles of the world fading far below her. There was nothing but a sea of blue sky to get lost in, and a veil of sparkling white clouds to mask over the bustling city full of millions of individual worries on the horizon. Up here it was just herself and the ship, which bent to her control. It was only for a short moment, but she lived for such moments.
In these times, peace and tranquility were hard to come by.
X
Around noon Fara landed the A-23 in the Capital City Air Force Base without a hitch; there were only a few times in her career as a test pilot when she was in any real danger, and today was no exception to the norm. She jotted down her notes, reported to her overseer, and transferred the logs from the FDR to the base's systems. From there she mingled with some of the other pilots she'd gotten to know before receiving a message from her father saying he'd arrived.
Outside the front gate she found one of her family's sleek black hovercars waiting. Ewen Drexel, her father's personal assistant, stood waiting by the rear passenger door. The zone-tailed hawk stepped aside and opened the door for her, allowing her in. Fara immediately crashed on the cool leather seats, sighing. Though she enjoyed test flying, it was still hard work, and it felt good to be able to unwind in private.
Her father smiled in the seat beside her. "Enjoy flying again?" he asked.
"Oh, yes! It was wonderful today!" she eagerly responded. "The latest version of the Arwing handles like a dream! You wouldn't believe how far it's come."
"Good! It's nice to hear we've made so much progress."
"I think this is it; the final iteration before production. I wouldn't be surprised if it saw official military use by next month!"
Ewen laughed. "Well I'm glad you're finally taking interest in company business," he joked.
Fara grinned at first, then frowned. To hide her expression she turned away to look out the window. His comment served as a grim reminder of her duties.
Edison cleared his throat. When she looked back at him she was surprised to see his face had sombered as well.
"Listen, Fara, I've been giving your involvement in the company some more thought. I'm…not sure if you're ready for such things quite yet. I've also been having some second thoughts about our merger with Space Dynamics. You see, recently-"
At that moment a soldier stepped from inside the main office and cupped his hands to his mouth, shouting something inaudible to them. Ewen, who had just rounded the outside of the car to the driver's side, tapped a knuckle on Edison's window. Confused, her father stopped what he was saying and rolled it down. Being a tall avian, Ewen had to duck low to poke his head in.
"A soldier is calling you, sir. He says General Weber the base commander has something important to see you about."
Edison raised his eyebrows. "Weber? I hadn't scheduled an appointment…It must be about the A-23, then."
Ewen opened the door for him, and Edison scooted out. "Sorry dear," he said to Fara, "this sounds important. I'll be out as soon as I can."
Fara made to open her door as well. "Oh, I might as well come with you-"
"The messenger said it wouldn't take long," the secretary told her.
As Ewen sat in the driver's seat, Edison rounded the car and walked through the front gate. Fara watched as the small figure of her father disappeared inside the main office. Both the fennec and hawk waited for some time in the car, observing the soldiers and work crews milling about the base in boredom.
As the minutes dragged on, Fara grew impatient. She pressed down on the door handle. "Ugh, I'm going to see what's taking so long."
"I'm sure Mr. Phoenix is nearly-"
A blinding orange fireball erupted from the main office, shattering windows, collapsing walls, and knocking soldiers to their feet. A deafening bang assaulted Fara's sensitive ears and set off a cacophony of car alarms in the adjacent parking lot. The burst of fire bloomed into a mushroom cloud of black smoke, towering above the base and the mountains on the horizon. Glass lay strewn in the street, windows and doorways were covered in soot, and a rain of concrete, steel, and mortar fell in chunks around them.
Fara's heart nearly stopped. For a minute she merely gaped in horror at the aftermath of the explosion. Smoke continued to belch out of the broken windows and caved-in roof, while flames licked from gaping holes.
It wasn't until the base's emergency alarms kicked in that Fara had the life-shattering realization:
Her father was in there.
X
Falco awoke to sirens that morning.
The alarms rose above the city, echoing between the dilapidated buildings till they finally breached the window to Katt's room. They climbed and fell in pitch like long, drawn out waves washing over the avian's ears, worse than any alarm clock he'd ever heard.
He groaned, struggling to lift himself out of bed. The only other times he remembered the Bureau using District 13's alarm system was back when he was a child; the floating city sometimes passed through typhoons, and all citizens were advised to stay inside and move to higher floors. That couldn't be the case now, could it? Last he checked there weren't any storms on the forecast…
Falco felt a shifting behind him and turned to see Katt waking. She sat up and clutched the covers to her chest, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Sirens," the avian said dumbly.
"No shit," she returned, blinking.
"Those usually mean storms, right? Like, really bad storms?"
"They used to…"
Katt slipped out of bed, her pink fur mussed and ruffled. She yanked the sheet out from underneath the blankets and held it to her front, approaching the window to look out. It was pathetically-small and high-up, almost prison-like, and smeared with dirt on the outside. She had to stand on tiptoes to properly see the alley and adjacent street outside.
"Sky seems uncharacteristically clear this morning," she observed. "But storms aren't all they use the sirens for now. You weren't here, but during the war they used them to warn of Venomian air-raids, encouraging people to shelter in the sewers."
Turning, the feline crawled back in bed with him, snuggling her pillow. "It's probably just a test…"
Falco felt tempted to return under the covers with her, but something didn't feel right.
"It's not a test," he stated. "If it was, the Bureau would have warned everyone."
Leaping to his feet, he began dressing. He looked at himself in Katt's mirror, scowling at the bandages that still covered him. It had been a few days since the clash with Grimmer, and, while their new nurse tended to him well, he had a long road of recovery ahead of him. He still ached from when Scrimmer dragged him around the city, and his wounds felt sore. Any area not covered by white bandages showed scars and stitches, having only recently heeled. What hid below the dressings was much worse.
Sensing Falco's worry, Katt got up again. "You think it might be something else?" she asked, starting to dress as well.
"I dunno, but I have one of those feelings…"
X
Once presentable, the two rushed through the small kitchen and into the shop. They met several of the others, all of whom had recently woke up as well. They arrived in various states of dress, yawning and blinking through blurry eyes. There were familiar faces like Mouser, Bowser, Kitt, and Pukes – who had stayed up all night – with the addition of several new hired guns. With the amount of money Corruption was bringing in, they were able to afford many new members. While still less than Grimmer's forces, their number was more than enough to repel him in a siege on the garage if need be, and more seemed to join each day.
"What's up, Boss?" Mouser coughed in a raspy voice. "I haven't heard dese sirens since the final Venomian raid!"
"Maybe it's pirates!" Kitt exclaimed, perhaps too exuberantly.
Falco could only shrug. "Beats me, but something's definitely up."
Just then, a Bureau squad car drove by outside, an officer on a loudspeaker giving very 'official-sounding' commands, though they couldn't quite make them out. Rather than stopping, it drove right past the garage and vanished, the motor and sound of the officer's voice once again drowned out by the sirens.
A thud sounded on a raised car overhead, followed by Shani nimbly landing beside Falco, absorbing her fall with a crouch. Straightening back up she jokingly saluted him – she'd been on lookout duty that morning, sitting atop the roof.
"Bureau officers are patrolling the streets, giving those same warnings. They claim they found an unexploded Venomian bomb they gotta diffuse. They're evacuating everyone from the North End – including us."
Bruiser – Katt's robotic helper – suddenly buzzed. "Evacuation orders have been received. Please exit the shop in a calm and orderly fashion. I will lock down the garage and stay behind. As a machine, my life is expendable-"
"Come, we must hide Pukes' lab before we are leaving!" Bowser said, heading towards the back.
But Falco held up a wing. "Hold it!" he shouted.
Everyone who had gone to run off turned to look at him again, surprised.
"There is no bomb," he declared. "It's a ruse. The Bureau just wants to get us away from the garage so they don't have to rout us out of our fortress."
"You think it's a trick?" Katt asked.
"Exactly. They know a siege would be violent and costly, but even if we don't take the bait, I have a feeling they want to deal with us today regardless. Getting the civilians out ensures no one gets caught in the crossfire – or, more importantly, that there aren't any witnesses. I have a feeling we're getting popular around here after supplying Corruption and challenging Grimmer. Corruption must have made it all the way downtown, and we've been causing too much commotion in our turf war. They can't ignore us anymore."
"Then you think they're coming for us today?" Shani asked excitedly.
"Most likely. Ain't no way in hell we're leaving the garage this morning. So instead, we bunker down. We got the numbers, we got the proper defenses. This garage is our impenetrable fortress."
"Besides when they rammed a truck through the front door?" Pukes pointed out sleepily.
"-Besides when they rammed a truck through the front door," Falco admitted. "Still, it's our best shot at survival, and we're not about to give up our operations in the North End. So for now, we stay – and fight."
The Free Birds cheered, pumping their fists and waving their weapons in the air. Falco started giving instructions, overseeing the defense preparations as the rest of the Free Birds dug their heels in. They took up positions on the roof, in back alleys, and behind doors. Even inside the garage, they arranged the cars like defensive walls to create cover in front of the back rooms.
Atop the roof, crouched behind the shop's giant neon lettering, Falco and several others watched the evacuation below. It was still in the wee hours of the morning, with the sky only recently lighting from a deep blue to a soft cyan. The street lights switched off, and underneath them marched long lines of residents. They left their homes locked or carefully boarded up, carrying their belongings in suitcases or bags over their shoulders. It reminded Falco of similar evacuations he'd seen during wartime, having traveled to several populated planets. At least the evacuation was only temporary.
But some stayed behind, bomb or no bomb. They remained hunkered down in their houses and apartments, peeking through curtains or between the wooden slats that boarded up their windows. Either they feared looters might rob their homes during the evacuation, or, like the Free Birds, they knew something else was up…
After half an hour, the last of the refugees vacated the North End. The streets were left empty in the dim light, only occupied by early morning mists rising off the dirty asphalt. Not a noise could be heard, barring those damn sirens, of course.
"Psst, over there," Katt pointed, hunkering beside Falco.
He followed her finger, spotting a lone figure walking towards the garage. He approached it head-on, in the middle of the street – after all, there weren't any cars, nor pedestrians to witness him. He wore a dark hoodie and gas mask to filter out the air, disguising his appearance and species; but even from this distance, they could see the green patch sewed on his shoulder that represented Grimmer's Gang. It depicted a green lizard's claw curled in the letter 'G'.
On the other side of Falco, Shani raised her rifle. "Shall I drop 'im?"
Falco raised his hand. "No, wait."
She lowered her gun slightly, shrugging. "Your call…"
The figure approached, undeterred by the figures waiting on the roof, nor those hidden in the adjacent alleys. He walked straight up to the front of the garage and stopped, lifting his mask-covered face to the sentries above him. The mists curled into the air around him like eddies of smoke.
The relative silence began to drag on, increasing the tension – but still, the figure stood and stared.
"What?" Falco simply called.
Reaching into his jacket, he removed a paper envelop and lay it on the sidewalk. With his singular task completed, the apparent messenger turned his back and calmly strode away – the same way he had appeared.
Leaving a couple guards and lookouts on the roof, Falco dropped down into the garage with Katt and Shani following. While the sentries above scanned the nearby streets, Falco walked outside and picked up the envelop, now soggy from its time on the damp sidewalk. He returned inside and began tearing it open, quickly surrounded by those Free Birds who could be spared from their posts.
He raised his eyebrows upon reading it.
"It's from Grimmer," he told them. "He accepted my challenge for a one-on-one fight."
All the Free Birds next to him cheered and congratulated him – all that is, except Katt, whose face twisted with worry.
"He told us to come to the shipyard," Falco continued once they could hear him again. "Doesn't care what weapons, vehicles, or allies we bring – so long as I fight him alone first. I think he intends to settle the turf war today – and so do the Bureau and Black Dragonfish, I bet."
"How do you figure that?" Shani asked.
"If it was just the Bureau alone, they wouldn't have gone to this trouble to set up a fight between us; they would have used the opportunity to seize the garage and be done with us. But I got a feeling there's pressure on them not to. The Black Dragonfish took notice of us. They gave their blessing to Grimmer to smash our first Corruption lab, then for him to fight us last week on the street. That's twice now he's failed to get rid of us – and I don't think they'll let him fail a third time.
"Grimmer's on shaky ground with the Black Dragonfish. If he loses tonight, I think their alliance will be off, and the Dragonfish will look for someone else to run the North End. That someone could very well be us. So rather than let the Bureau wipe us out, they want us to fight; to earn their favor. I think they see potential in our leadership, and in our product. If I can beat Grimmer today, I think we'll make ourselves a new ally, securing our hold over the North End."
"But Falco," Mouser asked, "don't you think it might be a trap? I mean, imagine we get down to the shipyard, crammed between all dose crates, and the Gang pounces on us from every side?"
Falco nodded. "It could be. We'll send a scout ahead to scope out the area. If they're legit, we'll leave some guards behind to watch the shop while we answer the challenge. If not, we stay hunkered down. But knowing Grimmer's pride, he'll keep his word. One way or another, I'm fighting him today…"
X
Half an hour later, as the rays of the sun began to soar above the horizon, Shani returned from her scouting mission. The Titanian wild dog reported Grimmer and his men were indeed waiting at the shipyard, but out in the open where any challengers could see them. While his full force wasn't present, a second scout confirmed the rest were still stationed at his hideout on the other side of the North End. No treachery seemed apparent.
Upon hearing their reports, Falco nodded resolutely. "Well, okay then. Sounds like the match is on. If Grimmer's ready for a fight, we'll meet him. But just in case, we'll station a few of you here to guard the shop."
Falco chose several of the new hires to stay behind, protecting Katt's shop and Pukes' lab. He brought most of the familiar Free Birds' faces along with him, except Pukes and Katt, neither of who belonged in a possible bloodbath if things went south.
"If we don't come back," Falco told the guards, "help Pukes escape with as much of her equipment, arms, and vehicles that you can carry. Get as far away from the North End as you can, and don't plan on coming back."
"Got it!" Kitt said, as if Falco had been exclusively talking to him. The kid seemed openly disappointed he couldn't come along and see the fight, but consoled himself with the knowledge he could help protect Pukes again.
While the others mounted their bikes or took up defensive positions, Katt followed Falco into the back room of her shop – the one she'd hidden the Azure Sky and her own bike in. Falco's beautiful new steed now had numerous scratches and nicks in the paint, much like the avian himself.
Katt approached him from behind, arriving just in time to see Falco tilt his head back and pop a few pills. She couldn't see how many, but by the sounds they made from clinking together, it sounded like more than usual – or Pukes had recommended.
"Falco…"
The avian turned around to meet her, face looking more somber than she had ever seen it before. He lifted an eyebrow when he saw the worry in her expression.
"Do you still doubt me?"
Katt looked down, avoiding his gaze. The silence dragged on till it became her answer.
Falco stepped closer and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, don't worry about me out there. I know what I'm getting into. I wouldn't have agreed to this if I thought I had no chance at all. I'll read his mind and see every move coming. He won't lay a finger on me! And besides, I already beat Dimmer the same way; his brother can't be that much tougher."
The feline exhaled, trying to soak in comfort from the weight of his hands on her shoulders. "But Falco, you're wounded now. You haven't had long to recover. Literally anything could go wrong out there, and I can't stand the thought of Grimmer…the thought of him…" She sniffed and trailed off, tears welling in her eyes. "After all these years, I just got you back…"
Falco lifted her chin till she met his eyes again. "Hey, did you forget who you're talking about? It's the Great Falco Lombardi here; personal wingman of Fox McCloud and hero of the Lylat Wars. I made it all the way to Venom, didn't I? This is nothing in comparison."
Katt couldn't help but smile at his bragging. "All I want is for you to come back in one piece today – or heck, I'd settle for several as long as you survived. Deal?"
He grinned. "Deal."
They hugged, and Falco leaned down so Katt could kiss the side of his beak. She gripped him tighter than she ever had before, as if this was the last time she'd ever be able to hold him in her arms.
Eventually they pulled apart, then wheeled their bikes out through the garage. Along the way, Falco couldn't help but glance around the building's interior; the car above that he used to sleep in, the odd ends of furniture that comprised their meeting room, and the familiar faces he was leaving behind. Part of him wondered if it was the last time he'd see any of them again…
X
Together the Free Birds arrived at the North End's shipyard. At first it seemed just as empty as the rest of the streets and alleys making up the sector. But they passed a few of Grimmer's sentries on the way in, exchanging dirty glares. The path into the dock wove through walls of stacked blue and red shipping crates. They towered over them, boxing them in like cliffs perfect for an ambush. But, as Falco lead the way through the twisting labyrinth, he couldn't detect the thoughts of anyone hiding atop them – only those of a large group waiting on the other side.
They rounded the last corner, entering a wide-open area cleared in the middle. Walls of shipping containers rose on their left and right, as well as behind them now. An open space of pavement lay between them and Grimmer's Gang, who were waiting opposite them; the sea and empty wharf at their backs. They looked impatient, having probably waited quite some time for them to show. They'd brought their bikes and odd weaponry, but most were dismounted or seated casually on their cushions. Grimmer stood out in front, arms folded and facing the Free Birds.
When Katt saw the full force of the Gang she sucked in a breath. Drawing closer to Falco, she whispered, "How do you know for certain they'll give up peacefully, even if you win?"
Falco leaned closer and smirked sideways at her. "'If'?"
Katt didn't respond.
He continued, likewise keeping his voice low. "Honestly, I don't know. I don't think they're planning something, but if they see their boss go down, who knows what might happen. That's why we came prepared to fight. We've pulled in more allies recently; Grimmer has not. I think there's a good chance we could take them in a fight. Besides, if they don't immediately leave when we win, it won't matter. The Black Dragonfish will acknowledge us, and that's what's really at stake here."
Still Katt didn't answer, and Falco began to suspect something was up. So he opened his mind to her, letting her emotions and thoughts seep in. He couldn't help but smile at what he saw.
"You're seriously considering charging Grimmer before he'd kill me, aren't you?"
Katt looked at him with wide eyes, but her surprise quickly wore off. "Well, at least I know the Corruption's working." Speaking louder, she punched him in the arm and added, "Knock him dead, Falco."
The other Free Birds patted him on the back as well, as if it'd be the last time they'd get to touch him. Falco marched forward, and Grimmer did the same, leaving the rest of his gang behind. Falco swallowed nervously. In truth, he tried to strike a confident appearance for Katt's and the others' sakes, but inside he felt apprehensive. Having Corruption in his veins was one thing; being able to use it was another. Grimmer would be even harder to beat than his younger brother, and this time Falco was handicapped with wounds. Additionally, he had to worry about the Gang's reaction if – shit! – when he won.
As he walked towards the center of the pavement, his eye caught something on the side of a nearby shipping crate. It was a red graffitied design; an intricate circle with dozens of fractal-like patterns that somehow seemed to be made of a single, unbroken line. He felt like he'd seen a similar symbol before – perhaps even doodled one himself, unconsciously. But whatever the case, it somehow filled him with courage upon seeing it.
It was a little past dawn; an uncharacteristically-beautiful day, as Katt put it earlier. The sky was a rare bright blue, basking in the early morning rays. The sun lit the waters behind the gang a sparkling viridian; the specks of light dazzled Falco as he approached. He could feel it in his bones; either today was the start of something new, or it was a hell of a beautiful day to die on.
The two leaders met in the center of the concrete, stopping a few yards apart. The emerald-scaled iguana towered a full head above Falco, and was broader, too. If it came down to simply who was stronger, Falco would be toast. Which was precisely why Grimmer eyed him so suspiciously, as if expecting a trick.
"You know the terms, right?" Falco asked when the other remained silent. "Who ever wins stays in the North End, and the others leave, never to mess with them again. We have an agreement-"
"Yeah-yeah, whatever," Grimmer hurried him. "You kept me waiting long enough. This was your idea, so get the fuck on with it."
Falco sucked in a breath and slowly released it, trying to calm himself. He struck a fighting pose, firmly planting his feet on the ground and raising his fists protectively in front of his face. Grimmer mirrored his stance, but instead of closing his fists he kept them loose, showcasing his claws. The impatient reptile began inching his way counter-clockwise, and Falco was forced to move opposite him. It was clear Grimmer lead this dance.
When their spectators saw them beginning to circle, they erupted in excitement. Both sides began cheering their leader on, or shouting jeers at his opponent. Falco could distinctly hear his friend's voices shouting encouragement: there were Bowser's rumbling roars, which sometimes lapsed into Venomian in his zealousness; there were Mouser's shrill yet raspy squeaks, piercing above the uproar; finally, there were Katt's encouraging cries, which he could easily pick out in any loud crowd because of how well his ear was tuned to them.
Meanwhile, when he rotated closer to Grimmer's Gang, he heard their rowdy insults and threats crashing against his back. It made it hard to concentrate – not because he took offense at the things they implied about his family heritage (which were probably true, all things considered), but because there were so many voices demanding his attention at once. He had to struggle to focus his mind on Grimmer's thoughts alone, which at least was made easier by his proximity.
"I'm warning you Grimmer, I've killed before," Falco pointed out; "a lot more than you have. In the war, killing was part of my everyday routine. I don't want to kill again, but I will if I have too."
Grimmer laughed. "You shoot people in tin cans. You've never killed someone in the flesh, have you? Back when the Venomians invaded, I did my share of killing, too. Oh it was always in the dark, when the occupation forces couldn't know it was me or the gang, but I left a fair few corpses behind myself. I won't hesitate to kill you now, either. In fact, I plan on it. So I don't know where you get off by saying that. It's not gonna make me go easy on you now. Nothing in the world can make me do that."
Falco licked his beak. "We've both fought Venomians, right? We were technically on the same side last year. Why does that have to change? The Venomians may be gone, but we still share the same enemies: The Bureau, the underworld, all this stinkin' pollution no one else wants to fix…If we worked together, we could-"
"What are you plotting, Lombardi?" the lizard interrupted him again. "You think you can easily beat me just because you humiliated my idiot brother? I don't buy it. You got lucky, which means you have to have something else up your sleeve now. So what is it? Hiding a knife? Something poisoned? Got a sharpshooter up on those crates waiting to pick me off? 'Cause there's no way in hell you'd ever think you could beat me in a fair fight. What gives?"
Falco's eyes narrowed. "I'm saying it's time we grew up and put aside our petty squabbles. We need each other."
The iguana growled. "I don't need you – get the fuck out of here with that shit. If you're trying to talk your way out of this, it's too late to back down now."
"Grimmer-"
But the lizard charged, and that was the end of negotiations. Falco cursed himself for being caught unawares; if he was going to win this fight, he couldn't let his guard down, and he had to be reading Grimmer's mind every second. Luckily his opponent had a few yards to close before he could reach Falco, giving the avian time to react even without the benefit of telepathy.
Grimmer went straight for a right hook aimed downwards at Falco's head, throwing the momentum from his run behind it. Falco managed to backpaddle, stumbling backwards early. By the time Grimmer swung he was just out of range – though he felt the air as his fist passed within inches of his beak.
Rather than faltering after his attack missed – like Dimmer might have – Grimmer used the momentum from his unconnected punch to swing himself in a circle, boots scraping against the concrete as he swerved round to face Falco again. Falco stepped back and turned towards him as well, resuming his defensive crouch. Doing his best to concentrate, he attuned his mind to Grimmer's thoughts. He let the lizard's inner-monologue drown over his own, which he kept silent for once. Every thought his opponent had was telegraphed to him; every input his five senses picked up, and every tightening of his muscles to produce movement. As if through Grimmer's eyes he could see himself staring back; a smaller but defiant falcon. Grimmer's gaze darted around his posture, searching for an opening to pounce on; a weakness to exploit.
After a few seconds of their next face-off, the lizard found it: Falco let his defensive left wing down too far. It was only for a split second, but that was all Grimmer needed. He sprang forward, twisting his shoulders to swing his right fist around again. The move was so spontaneous Falco had trouble anticipating it; Grimmer's reaction time was faster than his brother's. He didn't so much as think out his plans in his head as much as he simply acted upon them. They were instinctual, and not easy to read. Falco only had a second to react, but he was more prepared this time than the first. The avian slipped beneath the cross punch, ducking inwards to jab Grimmer in the stomach. His fist struck the lizard's abdomen, causing him to grunt and falter. Falco made to jab again, but Grimmer twisted away, and his punch landed on his leathery flank, deflecting harmlessly.
Falco disengaged, knowing his window to land successful counter hits had closed as Grimmer turned to face him. Apparently, listening to Grimmer's thoughts wasn't enough; that would be too slow. He had to feel every twitch and contraction of his tendons to know where his next strike would be. He had to react just as instinctually as the iguana, as if his muscles were a part of his; an extension of his opponent rather than a separate entity.
Frustrated that Falco had dodged his first two attacks, Grimmer returned to the offensive. He closed the gap between them again, raining a series of calculated jabs, wild hooks, and vicious uppercuts at him in quick succession. But Falco read his thoughts and felt each one coming a mile away. He pivoted on his feet, ducked, and bobbed after each attempted blow, expertly avoiding every one. As the lizard continued to attack, he read him like a book. The unwitting fool may as well have been shouting all his attacks on a loudspeaker beforehand. It almost didn't seem fair to Falco, though he knew even a single slip-up on his part might spell instant defeat…
The fact that Grimmer had failed to land a single hit on Falco – even a deflected one – began to infuriate him. Just like his brother, his temper began to get the better of him, bubbling over till it spilled into his attacks. The lizard traded subtlety and tactics for brute force, forgoing calculated attacks for relentless ones in his anger. He began making clumsy moves: recovering slower from missed hits and leaving himself open to more counters.
Falco took full advantage of Grimmer's blind rage. Whenever a failed attack left him open, the avian pounced, seizing the opportunity to land a few blows of his own. But Grimmer's scaled hide was harder to penetrate than he thought. His scales deflected most of his blows, and his leathery flank absorbed the rest.
It wasn't until one particularly-clumsy, all-or-nothing hook that Grimmer left himself open long enough for Falco to land a blow against his face. He felt his fist smack squarely against his unguarded jaw, and Grimmer's ugly snout snapped to the side. He pulled away, grinning confidently as the Free Birds cheered behind him. The jeers died in the Gang's throats while their leader reeled from the hit.
Grimmer paused, cupping his jaw in his hand and pulling it back to find smears of blood on his claw. He snarled and clenched his fists, stomping towards Falco again. "Why won't you stand…fucking…still?!"
The iguana renewed his attack, coming at him like a piledriver. When Falco tried to dance back, he followed even quicker, never letting him escape his arm's reach. Falco did his best to bob and weave, but he couldn't dodge everything. So he pivoted to deflecting and blocking the lizard's clawed fists instead. Sensing where each swipe was aimed beforehand, he agilely swept them aside with a brush of his wing, but sometimes he had to stop them directly, absorbing the brunt of the force on his arms. Whenever Grimmer landed such a blow, Falco's very bones shook; sometimes he could even feel his beak clack from the veritable tremors the iguana sent through his body.
Still, even with Falco's near flawless defense, Grimmer kept up the assault. Falco threw everything he had into feeling his opponent's moves beforehand – as if they were his own. At times, he was so steeped in Grimmer's consciousness that his fists became Falco's fists, his muscles became Falco's muscles, and his punches became Falco's punches. It became difficult to distinguish the lizard's identity from his own; he felt like he was ceasing to exist as a person. The gang leader's unadulterated loathing flowed into him, coursing through his veins. Never had Falco so fully understood someone's hatred for him: how since they were teens they'd been rivals, constantly racing and brawling back and forth; how Falco had made fools out of his two brothers, one after the other; how he had put Grimmer in a tight spot with the forces that really ruled Zoness – both the Bureau, and the Black Dragonfish; and how he had turned the people of the North End against him. But, in this current moment, the thing that made Grimmer hate him the most was simply Falco's psychic ability to defy everything he threw at him. Nothing made him wish to spill the bird's guts over the concrete more than that fact.
After spending so much time in Grimmer's head, Falco was beginning to empathize with everything his enemy felt. In fact, he had begun to hate himself.
He couldn't stand it any longer. Having such a close, front-row seat to his bottomless resentment made Falco's skin crawl like thousands of insects. So, unable to stomach so much of the slimy lizard's mind at a time, Falco yanked himself out, coming up for air.
It was his fatal mistake. At this point the avian had begun to tire. His arms felt bruised from taking so many hits – whether directly or indirectly. His defenses were lazy, and his reactions sluggish. Making things worse, he felt his wounds reopening. Grimmer hadn't landed a single successful blow on him, yet he could feel blood mixing with the sweat beneath his clothes. Painfully, he felt his stitches bursting, one-by-one. And, on top of that, Falco was actively fighting to keep his mind separated from Grimmer's so he could no longer predict his attacks.
Futilely he blocked several more of Grimmer's hooks, but by now his vision was becoming a blur. The iguana drew back and jabbed at his chin. Falco was too slow to block and took the full brunt of the force smack on his jaw.
He went down.
The cheers from the Free Birds' side stopped.
Grimmer sat all of his 200-something pounds on Falco's legs, pinning him to the concrete. Falco only glimpsed his snarling face for a second before he felt the lizard's fists begin to strike him. They came from the left and right, alternating beating different sides of his face and snapping his head back and forth. Falco began to spit blood in either direction. But even that wasn't enough for Grimmer, who started repeatedly nailing him with his dominant hand till the vision in the left side of Falco's face dimmed.
The Free Birds were horrified. The match had turned around so quickly their heads spun. What had been a spectacle of Falco making a fool out of their rivals' leader quickly reversed. Members gasped, jaws dropped, and hearts skipped beats. They were horrified to see Falco go down – especially Katt. Unable to stand it any longer, she rushed forward to save him – but Bowser knew what she had in mind and intervened, wrapping his powerful arms around her. Falco heard her desperate screams, but everything sounded washed out to him. The sound in his left ear was like a roar of white noise only pierced by a high-pitched ringing.
The Free Birds hesitantly drew their weapons, exchanging glances. If Katt had rushed out to save him, all hell would have broken loose between the opposing groups, as Grimmer's Gang had already started inching their way forwards. So, rather than risk the confrontation…they stopped.
Their antics went unnoticed to Grimmer. As far as the iguana was concerned, this moment was between him and Falco alone. The filthy shipyard disappeared around him, till all he could see was Falco's bloodied face dazedly staring up at him. At first he let out a little chuckle. Then it turned into a euphoric series of laughs. He had dreamed of this moment for many nights, and he wanted to savor every second of it. Each satisfying smack sent waves of dopamine crashing through his veins. By now he had beat Falco within an inch of his life – in fact, he couldn't even tell if the bird was still breathing. He probably wouldn't know the exact moment he died. Maybe he had already passed it, and was thrashing a dead corpse. But regardless, he'd pound fist after fist into his enemy's face till it lay broken in shreds on the concrete.
Panting, Grimmer looked up, eager to see the looks of horror on the rest of the Free Birds' faces.
…Odd. There were more of them than he expected.
A lot more.
Grimmer's eyes widened. What had only been a force of a dozen Free Birds had multiplied. Not by two or three times, but tenfold. A throng of people had gathered with the Free Birds. At first they came up behind them, peering over their shoulders and around Bowser's wide girth to watch the end of the fight unfold. But when they saw the butchering going on they drew closer, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the rest of the team. If Grimmer's gang was double the size of Falco's in the beginning, the newcomers dwarfed his now.
Shocked, lizard paused his attack. His gold, reptilian eyes flitted back and forth among the crowd. They weren't new members of the Free Birds; not hired guns, nor recent recruits. They were just people; common, every day people – the citizens of the North End. And, while they weren't mercenaries or hired muscles, they sure were armed. They brought baseball bats, metal pipes, pistols, loose boards, rolling pins – anything they had lying around their houses or could grab on short notice, it seemed.
"Who…where did…" he stumbled. "But they said they'd evacuate the North End!"
Falco spat out a wad of blood, breathing tiredly. In a raspy voice he answered, "Looks like I made some new friends, huh?"
The lizard's jaw snapped shut. The crowd began to step forward, glaring at him and smacking their makeshift weapons against their palms. It was clear to him he no longer held the upper claw. He stood up, tentatively stepping back. He clenched his fists and stared them down, as if daring them to approach. But at the same time, his legs felt weak and shook. He couldn't completely mask the fear in his eyes with rage.
Surprising Grimmer even more, he heard Falco groaning. The avian used the chance to get back up on his feet. He was shaky at first – his legs wobbling even more so than Grimmer's. He rose to a stooped hunch, then with much difficulty straightened all the way up. The lizard felt shocked; he couldn't believe the number of bloody stains soaking Falco's clothes, many of them from places he'd never even hit before. But even through it all, Falco stared up at him, defiantly.
"You've lost, Grimmer," the avian coughed out. "You can beat me to a pulp here and kill me, but even then I've left something behind that's bigger than myself. Your pathetic empire's just a bunch of juveniles living it up. You're a headache for today, but tomorrow you'll be gone, and no one will remember you. Even if I die now, the Free Birds will remain. While I made friends, you made enemies. The people of the North End are waking up, and soon the rest of the District and even all of Zoness will follow. You can't empathize with people, only rule with fear. And that's why you lost this fight today."
Abruptly, Falco sprang forward. Grimmer retreated but was too slow. The avian wound up his fist for an attack, so Grimmer threw up his arms defensively. But Falco chose that moment to plunge right back into his mind. He felt where the lizard had directed his defenses and instinctually corrected mid-swing. His fist sailed under Grimmer's raised arms, striking him squarely in the neck. The lizard dropped his fists and released a terrible, choked-out cough. Falco followed up with another punch – straight into Grimmer's unguarded stomach. When the lizard doubled over, he shoved him to the ground and jumped atop him.
It marked the complete reversal of their previous position; now Falco was on top, and Grimmer was below. And he laid into him good. He beat the lizard's face back and forth, slugging him with one punch after another. All the pent-up aggression he'd had trapped inside of him, pinned beneath Grimmer's weight a few moments earlier, now boiled over. Everything he couldn't do to defend himself and strike back at the lizard he now brought down upon him with abandon.
But, whether he wanted it or not, his mind continued to meld with Grimmer's. He hadn't concentrated the mental effort needed to extract himself again after his first assault. He still felt the iguana's senses as if they were his own, which meant every blow he landed on Grimmer, he felt too. He couldn't distinguish between his own sensations and his opponent's; they were one and the same. It felt like he was hitting himself, and it absolutely hurt. Every punch delivered a corresponding sting to his face; every tooth he knocked out felt like it fell from his own mouth – and Falco didn't even have teeth. He almost felt sorry for the downtrodden lizard, knowing on a very experiential level how much pain he caused him.
Yet he didn't let that stop him; it was a good pain, like drawing a splinter, or purifying a wound. He continued his assault, battering Grimmer almost as ferociously as the lizard beat him. At first he struggled and fought back, but eventually his muscles seemed to fail, and he remained powerless to stop Falco. By now he knew the lizard could see nothing but stars, but he wasn't dead yet. He had more to go. Sometimes it hurt putting someone down, but all the same, he knew it had to be done – and the cheers of the crowd behind him only made it easier.
"Well…this must be what I deserve."
Falco drew his fist back again, but stopped. That was Grimmer's thought he had just heard.
Shaking his head slowly, Falco picked himself up and tripped backwards. He looked down at Grimmer, observing the misshapen, bloodied mess he'd left his face in.
…That was enough.
At that moment the crowd behind him charged. Outnumbered, Grimmer's Gang turned to flee – all except Scrimmer and Dimmer, who quickly sprinted towards the oncoming horde. Just in time, they swept up their brother and dragged him to safety; then the citizens closed the gap. The remaining gang members mounted their bikes and attempted to speed away. Some raced off along the wharf or disappeared in between the labyrinth of shipping containers. Others were so desperate they jumped into the filthy sea and swam away. Falco didn't see what became of the trio of iguanas, but those of the Gang who weren't so lucky to escape quickly found themselves overwhelmed and taken to the ground, where they were beaten by the angry citizens.
Falco watched it all unfold in disbelief, his spirit soaring. Then behind him he heard Katt call his name. He turned just in time to receive her hug, which squeezed him dangerously-tight. "I thought you were dead!" she sobbed over his shoulder. Then, when she pulled away he saw her eyes were filled with tears and worry. "You're bleeding!"
"I know, I'm bleeding everywhere! Isn't it wonderful?"
"Falco, all your wounds reopened! We have to get you to the hospital, quick – or at least back to the shop!"
"On it, miss!" Bowser said. The crocodile picked him straight off the ground and began carrying him princess-style, but Falco stopped him.
"Hold it, I'm not done here."
"But Falco, you are hurting!"
"I have something to say, Bowser; I need 'em to hear me. I can't just disappear after everything that just happened. So lift me up, will ya?"
Grunting worriedly, the croc lifted him up on his shoulders, where Falco swayed precariously. He opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately drowned out by a wave of applause and cheers. It came from all the new Free Bird recruits, as well as the crowd of citizens. Finished roughing-up the Gang, they surrounded Falco and Bowser, chanting his name over and over again as they raised their fists in the air.
Falco's words died in his mouth as he basked in the glory. So many faces looked up, smiling at him. Some he recognized, like the old hedgehog grocer he'd saved from Dimmer, or Tosca his nurse. Others he had never even met before, but they knew him all the same. He hadn't felt so honored since the end of the Lylat Wars. Of course then he'd been celebrated in the massive parades and public events that followed – to a point where the small gathering around him could hardly compare. But somehow, his victory today meant more to him. This time he hadn't done it for money, fame, or the fun of it; he'd done it because he cared about the people who lived here. Nor did he play second fiddle to Fox; he was the hero this time, of his own accord.
All the adoration and support quickly went to Falco's head. He raised his wings and motioned for them to be quiet. When the cheers died down enough he spoke.
"Thank you all from uh…" What would Fox say? "…the bottom of my heart! We couldn't have won this day without you. If you didn't brave a bomb threat and evacuation orders to get here, I don't know where I'd be. Probably pureed into a giant puddle of blood on the concrete back there."
"You mean exactly how you look now?" Shani called up.
"Shut it," he told her. For a second he felt queasy and swayed on Bowser's shoulders, but he was able to pull himself back. "Today's the turning point for the North End. Grimmer has finally been routed, and Corruption is here to stay. But our movement isn't done yet; I won't stop until all of Zoness is clean again! And it doesn't matter who's in my way: the Bureau, the Black Dragonfish, or even those Cornerian bastards. Together, we'll return this planet to the way it was!
"Which reminds me," Falco continued. "You weren't the only people watching today. Our friends in the Bureau and the Dragonfish were as well. In fact, I bet they're still watching." At this point he raised his voice even louder, projecting over the shipyard. "I know you're listening, wherever you are – probably cowering out of sight somewhere. Well let me tell you this; during the War you put aside your differences. Both of you worked together to fight the Venomians when they invaded, cooperating because they were an existential threat to all of us. Yet as soon as Star Fox and the Cornerians liberated Zoness, what did you do? You went back to squabbling with each other again. Well, if you hadn't noticed, we're still facing an existential threat. The war may be over, but the scars still live on, so help fix this planet! Regardless, the Corrupt will do it ourselves – with or without you!"
The crowd erupted in cheers again, then began alternating chants of his name and the Free Birds. They were too absorbed with their new savior to notice a dark figure lying flat atop the wall of shipping containers. The sea breeze whipped through his ragged gray jackets, as well as the gas mask that covered his nose and mouth. Having seen and heard all he needed to, the figure crawled away from the edge he overlooked, slinking to the rear side of the container. Nimbly he dropped down onto a second one beneath it, then to the concrete floor with a huff. Looking both ways in the tight corridor, he crouched over a manhole cover and removed it. Standing, he tore Grimmer's insignia patch off his sleeve, tossing it to the side. Then, he lowered himself in and replaced the top, disappearing into the sewers beneath District 13.
