Complicated 7
Spp. euphoria
Kain stared up at the ceiling of the dorm. He'd cleaned up his friends' bunks for the two recruits, and knocked his lights out straight after. Said recruits were yammering in his peripheral vision as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes.
"Baka, your taste is horrible."
"Well, Tori, maybe I just need a beautiful man to comfort me after our loss."
"That's not the retort you think it is."
"YOUR taste is horrible!"
"Your mother."
"You guys were great out there," Kain interrupted. "In there. How'd you pick up those skills and end up here?"
"You go places," Falco muttered.
"Still dedicated to the enigma part, aren't you?" Kain's ears sagged. "You've seen how this place is made up entirely of misfits, myself included."
Falco wasn't sure what emotion to express, and so ended up with a pained grimace.
"You said you had friends," said Slippy. "Where are they, now?"
Kain shrugged and stared harder into the ceiling.
Falco snorted through his nose.
"Look kid," he said.
"We're the same age."
"You don't have to stay where y'ain't happy. That's what a fool would do. The entire system is your oyster. The war is over. You don't have to tie yourself down to one spot."
"Maybe a different climate would do you good," Slippy croaked. "There's only one habitable one here on Venom, and I think it's eroding my throat..."
With a sigh, Kain rolled over to face the wall, away from the two pairs of eyes. "I'm sleeping in, today. I'm sure you two are capable of fending for yourselves in the cafeteria."
"You sure?" asked Slippy.
Kain pulled the covers over his head.
"C'mon, Bak," said Falco, pulling Slippy out of the room by the wrist.
They followed the signs down the rust-red corridor to the cafeteria, passing a few dorms, some of whose occupants hadn't yet vacated for the day. Falco didn't care to know what purposeless activities (if they weren't still or already straight comatose) they were up to in there.
"You think we can make it, today?" Slippy whispered.
"We have to for the sake of my sanity."
Slippy's throat bulged like he wanted to say something else but was choking on a rock.
"Cat got your tongue?"
"You feel sorry for him, don't you?"
"I don't care about anyone," Falco snapped. "... Who do I feel sorry for?"
"Kain. You made a horrible face in there, but there was something other than second-hand embarrassment in there. I could tell." Slippy's big eyes were boring into Falco's grey matter and he despised it.
"Say another word on the topic and I will make his joke about frog's legs a reality."
"I won't tell anyone," Slippy sang.
"You really don't care for your legs, do you?"
Slippy said nothing more, but Falco felt no sense of triumph.
They eventually found the cafeteria, a few corridors past the base's main entrance from which they'd entered the day before.
It was suitably huge, with several long benches laid out to fit hundreds of soldiers at a time. The walls were the same rust-orange fuzz of the rest of the corridors and the world outside, though they were plastered with posters, adhesive gum (some might have been chewing gum) and leftover bunting from some event or another (there was a non-zero chance it could have been for the end of the war, which they'd lost). Two animals were working on an intricate monochrome mural in the far corner for the metal band Primordial Sludge, with said band's late-era music grating out of a worn-out, retro-style boom box. The mural was encroaching on an underlying, nauseatingly bright mural for an adult goods shop that Falco wanted to unsee.
"Heck yeah," Slippy whistled. He threw a 'rock on' gesture at the painters but they weren't looking. Falco punched him in the shoulder.
"What kind of base is this to have a bloody art scene?" Falco grumbled. "Blasted Cornerian military budget." He looked closer at the posters and realised that the majority of them were vandalised heads of the mortal enemy mad scientist Andross. Maybe Venomian soldiers weren't so avant-garde after all.
Falco snorted but Slippy shuddered at the view.
"We need to get out of here," Slippy groaned.
A noxious, overpowering scent suddenly slapped Falco in the face and he narrowed his eyes at a pack of animals spread behind the glass cabinets like witches around a cauldron.
"By Lyla, who died back there?" Falco covered his nose and tugged Slippy back by the shoulder.
"You think the cooks went AWOL, too?" Slippy wondered, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Tori, I know it's bad, but you don't have to pull me away like they're cannibals."
Falco shushed him before he spoke any further and craned his neck.
"Baka. Look."
Their eyes fell on a distant counter where what appeared to be disembodied animal parts lay behind the glass. There was an orderly collection of what appeared to be fox tails and rabbits' feet.
Slippy gasped before letting out a weary laugh.
"They're good aren't they, Tori?" Slippy wheezed. "Those are so lifelike! What's with all the untapped talent around here, anyway?"
Falco laughed along weakly.
"You think we can make it in three hours?"
"Easy," said Falco, shaking the heat from his face. "Just need to grill our buddy about timetabling. If you need more time to play with your toys, then too bad."
It was Slippy's turn to blush, but he made no further acknowledgement of the taunt, just straightening his back and taking a deep, unsteady breath.
*.*.*.*.*
"Dude, this is so friggin' cool."
Dexter-as-Falco leaned over the bunk and shoved his comm's hologram into Max-as-Slippy's face, crowding out the darkness of the room and the gurgling of early-era Primordial Sludge coming out of the wall speaker.
"I found the hangar," squealed Dexter, over their sound cover, showing off his recording of the lower levels of the Great Fox, "and I saw the Arwings. The blue beauties, the legends themselves!"
His tail feathers were wagging back and forth, slapping Max in the face, who sneezed violently.
"Get off me," Max grumbled, shoving Dexter back. The husky-pheasant tripped over backwards and nearly knocked over one of the lava lamps.
"Okay, but you've gotta show me what you've got so far," said Dexter, placing a hand reverently on the glowing orange lamp before shuffling away to the side, lest he wreak anymore havoc.
"I got the hangar, too," Max sighed with his head in his hands. "How did we miss each other? I should have delegated areas."
"But you got to see it in person!" Dexter exclaimed. "Our colleagues would kill to be here."
"We're not on a field trip!" Max snapped.
"We're not?"
"And those buffoons are hardly our colleagues."
"So who are we trying to impress, then?"
"Shut up." Max flopped back onto Slippy's bunk. A flash in his peripheral vision blinded him for a moment. "What the hell?!"
"I'm getting tired of the roleplay," said Dexter, back in his original husky form, sitting against the opposite wall. He scratched a blotch of dark fur. "And the feathers are weird."
"At least you're dry. Try frog skin." Max covered his face with his broad, moist hands and cringed. "Also, I'm blaming you if we get caught."
"We won't. But this ship is smaller than we thought. Do you think we could finish up here faster than we planned?"
"If you want to wuss out, I guess we can jump ship early."
Dexter looked at his knees. "You really don't want to be like that, huh?"
Max's eyes filled with fire. "Like what?"
"We didn't consider the psychological effects of these extended transformations," Dexter muttered, picking quietly at the base of a claw.
"We have only one chance, Dex, and I'm not going to blow it!"
"Do you think we blew it with Kain?"
"Hey, we left him out of this for his own good."
Max clamped his eyes shut, a feather hovering above the button on his transformer. He jerked when he felt a pressure on his hand that nudged it onto the smooth surface. Light flashed through his eyelids.
"You are being ridiculous!" Max hissed, trying not to acknowledge that his frog hands had transformed back into the black feathers of a raven.
"Give it two minutes," Dexter said, exasperated, sagging against the wall. "I'd rather not have us go insane before the cabin fever sets in."
"Speak for yourself," Max muttered.
"On the bright side, we're going to have the best home movies ever. Come on, show me what you got."
Max slid his comm behind his back.
"You first."
"I already showed you the Arwings! It's your turn."
Max sighed and turned on the hologram. He looked away while Dexter watched cross-legged on the floor, eyes bright, ears erect, as the cameraman captured what looked like an earthquake in the Great Fox's hangar.
"Your camerawork is ass, Max!"
"It's your turn, Dex."
"No, I wanna see more!"
Dexter lurched forward and grabbed at Max's comm. Max pushed against Dexter's shoulder.
"You're a nitwit, you know that?!"
There was a knock at the bedroom door.
Before Dexter had a chance to react, Max slammed Dexter's paw against his device, manifesting 'Falco' before his eyes then turning back into 'Slippy' himself.
There was a louder knock before a well-placed kick snapped the door right off its rail. The sight of Fox McCloud grinning proudly slowly slid into view.
"Slippy, I found a weak spot in your door while you two were out," Fox snickered. "Now you've got something to keep you occupied." He looked up from his destructive handiwork. "Am I interrupting something?"
Falco was still leaning over Slippy. With their height advantages suddenly reversed, they both toppled to the floor. Fox snorted before his eyes settled on a clenched feathered palm and he raised his eyebrows.
"Hey, what do you have there?" Fox asked, ears pricking.
"N-nothing," said Falco.
"No, I wanna see." Fox walked forward and reached for the device in Falco's hand. Falco leaned back, his height-advantaged arm stretched beyond Fox's range.
"D-don't worry about it!"
"Lemme at it! I wanna see your new toys." Fox spun around and made a grab at Slippy's device. The frog jerked back, just out of reach. The grimace on Fox's face quickly morphed into a smile. "Slippy, you've gotten faster, you asshole!"
"Lay off!" Slippy yelled, kicking Fox in the stomach. He fell on his back with a thud.
"Oh, you asked for it!" Fox lurched forward for the low tackle. Slippy rolled away as Falco wrenched Fox's arms behind his head. The vulpine flailed his legs. "Ganging up isn't fair!"
"N-neither is a false start!" Falco retorted. He twisted one of Fox's ears, which elicited a yelp, then flung his arms around Fox and Slippy and shoved the two smaller animals out of the room. They fell onto their backsides as the door slammed in their faces. The door inched back open on its broken rail before a feathered hand wrenched it shut again. There was a loud scrape as a shelf was pushed in front of the door.
"What's with him?" Fox grumbled, touching the base of his right ear gingerly. "And isn't that your room?"
Slippy shrugged.
"Guess his is mine, now," said Slippy. He hauled himself to his feet, sauntered over to Falco's room, and shut the door calmly.
Fox's bewildered gaze flickered between the two closed doors.
"We should have left them planetside," he sighed to himself. "I'm not high enough for this."
*.*.*.*.*
"You should have seen the face Baka made when the guy jumped up from behind the counter," Falco snickered, narrating for a prone Kain who was still on his bed. Falco's voice rose an octave and he waved his arms limply. "Ah! They're still alive! Help me, Tori!"
Slippy seethed, but left Falco unchallenged for the moment.
"So, if you need a prince in shining armour," Falco continued as he reached into his pocket, "you're flat out of luck here, but you've got a guy who gives half a damn enough to bring you back some grub." A paper bag landed next to Kain's head.
A muffled "Thank you" emanated from Kain's pillow.
"Just get out of your depressive slump quickly, okay, kid? We need a brief for today and we're not keen on asking any of your colleagues for help." With that, Falco flopped down onto his own borrowed bunk, waiting for Kain to register his expectant aura.
Kain eventually came to, sitting up with a creak and reacting to the contents of the paper bag with a double take before extracting a life-like fox's tail.
After sampling it, he raised his eyebrows and said, "Tastes like chicken."
Falco rolled his eyes while Slippy snorted. After finishing the fox tail, Kain straightened his back and stared at the pair.
"You have a few choices today," he said. "One: janitor duty. Would not recommend unless you're fully vaccinated against all 350 plus Lylatian diseases and also idiocy. Two: boot camp at noon. I warn you, it's highly unstructured for reasons I don't think I need to explain. Three: sim ground training. My bet is that it's booked out. Guys probably sacrificed sleep to beat the morning rush."
"Good thing we already had a go," said Falco.
"But I liked it," Slippy whined. "Even if I nearly had a breakdown."
"Four," Kain continued, "sim air training. Hopefully sim junkie Felix isn't there... I'm losing count."
"Five," said Falco.
"That: real air training. I have a feeling General Killjoy won't be happy to see us in the western hangar, so I'd advise the east."
Slippy elbowed Falco, who glared daggers.
"He can't actually be a general though," Falco grunted. "Not with that sloppy gait."
"I forget his rank." Kain stuck out his tongue. "There's more options, you guys can run free as birds. Or perhaps even fly."
"I think flying's good," said Slippy.
The fur on Kain's tail spiked up.
"I call dibs on the Flyen!" he exclaimed. Without warning, he sprang off the bed and charged out of the room.
Slippy and Falco stared after him. Slippy mouthed a "What now?" to Falco before grey ears peeked back around the doorway.
"No race?" Kain asked. "We can start again without the handicap."
"We'll go when it's... less busy," said Falco.
"Wise. I suggest the food coma block. Or the second boot camp sortie, which starts earlier."
"Boot camp."
"I still wanna scout out the way there," Slippy said. "Are there any devices we can tinker with? Repairs?"
Kain shrugged. "You've probably got a better eye for that than me.
"Anyway, see ya, nerds!"
Once again, the wolf shot away from the doorway, thundering down the corridor. Slippy shrieked and lumbered after him.
Falco slapped a hand to his head before gritting his teeth and running like the wind.
*.*.*.*.*
The trio managed to pass under General Killjoy's radar. After evacuating the hangar, Slippy led the other two on like a priest on a holy mission.
"Can you fetch me a toolbox?" Slippy asked, crouched down to look at some loose screws in a grate.
"Kind samaritan," said Kain. He left the recruits at the grate and headed back to the dorm, where he knew one friend kept a pilfered toolbox. Under the bed, crinkled scrap paper was littered around the box. Usually Kain would respect his friends' privacy, but he was still mad at them for apparently bailing on him. He kneeled down, squeezed a vengeful paw around some of the balls of paper and unfolded one.
Looked like a technical drawing of some cube-shaped device. Nothing unusual. Kain's inability to understand the diagram was also nothing unusual. He unfolded some more pages.
More cube drawings, some animals—Lyla he had mad skills when he wanted to—more cubes, the interior layers of the cube's machinery laid out, what looked like a wrist strap for the cube...
He looked at the animals again. A self-portrait, with two more figures next to it, decidedly shoddily drawn but recognisable: a raven, a husky and a wolf.
So they didn't forget me, after all!
He looked at the other animals—past the complicated ancient avians were drawn a fox, a frog, a pheasant and a hare. Also shoddily drawn, but recognisable all the same. An outline of a winged fox floated to the side of the page.
He never told me he was a fan, too!
Something clicked in his brain. He peered hard at the papers, trying to decipher the author's illegible handwriting he would have otherwise skimmed over. There were rudimentary plans, and a date.
His blood turned into frost and fire at the same time. Like mint had washed through his body. Wasn't meant to be anywhere outside his digestive system, which also happened to be where the pain was most acute.
What was he doing standing in this room? It seemed to fizz away in the intensity of his emotions.
Had Max and Dex really done it?
And Baka and Tori, were they really...?
*.*.*.*.*
"I don't know if that's the face of a recent widow or a future serial killer," Falco commented, peering at Kain's face as he rounded the corner with the black toolbox.
"I'm fine. Whatever. Here's the tools for the tools."
"Once you hand me the box," Slippy threatened, "I'll be the one armed." Kain's eyes were glazed over like he hadn't been listening.
"Just tired," said Kain. "Some biochemical imbalance, surely. It's hardly unnatural."
"Natural's boring, anyway," Slippy remarked over the clatter of the tools.
"Why are there so many freaks here... Don't answer that."
*.*.*.*.*
The wind had picked up on the edge of the tarmac and Falco was getting annoyed by the dust periodically flying up his airways. An extra large cloud buffeted him as Slippy skidded to a stop behind him, panting.
"Thanks, Bak," Falco coughed. "Here's a toy, by the way." He reached for one of the small blasters he'd stowed under his jacket and shoved it into Slippy's hand.
"No luck at traffic control," Slippy wheezed as he holstered the blaster. "Couldn't get a word in. It was just as disorganised as the rest of this place. And the music stations they were tuned into were the worst. I should have just pulled the fire alarm to flush them all out."
"You're one to talk about organisation. And bad taste."
"Back at you."
"Lyla, we all keep the Great Fox in such a bad state."
"The crew won't know we're coming," Slippy moaned. "Hopefully, they won't shoot."
"They'll know my style," said Falco.
"Fox will light up just like one of your lava lamps."
"Don't talk about my lava lamps. And to hell with that guy."
"You just don't want to admit to sharing my interests. And distance makes the heart grow fonder."
Falco was about to strangle Slippy when Kain materialised next to them.
"Haven't heard that cliché in a while," Kain greeted. "Ready for takeoff?"
"Just help us procure some wings," said Falco.
"Hold on," said Slippy. "Kain, is there a control tower we can get to? I thought we should earmark some craft beforehand just in case."
Falco held his breath.
Luckily, Kain looked perfectly innocent.
"Sure. There's one right there." He pointed over Slippy's shoulder back the way he'd come.
"Already tried. Too crowded."
"Then the Clocktower, then."
"The what?"
"The northern one, the one you already tried, is called the Panopticon. The southern one is the Clocktower. No substance to the names, we're all incompetent here."
"Lovely," Falco muttered.
"Except for you two. You can really fly."
Slippy flushed and elbowed Falco in the ribs.
"And if not for our hacker, you guys would have cleaned up the competition during last night's sim as well."
"We just play a lot of paintball," Falco said quickly. "Can we go, now?"
*.*.*.*.*
The inferiorly-named Clocktower was relatively empty as the trio reached the top of the staircase. The dimly lit room was the same rusty colour of the area outside. The only other animals there were a goanna and a peacock playing cards off to the side.
The console was free. Slippy hurried across the steel floor and his fingers danced along the console as if he'd lived with it his whole life. Falco shouldered past Kain. The wolf shrunk and hung back towards the back of the room. Falco was mildly surprised.
Slippy leaned back and whispered shakily to Falco, "Three fighters parked on the southern side of the runway. If I know my wings, they should be able to escape Venom's thin atmosphere."
"Should?!"
"S-shut up! I'll lock one in for Kain so it doesn't look suspicious. Light fighters for manoeuvrability. And the transmission will be sent to inbox. Is that covert enough?"
A voice behind them whooped loudly. Falco and Slippy spun around, wide-eyed, only to see that the goanna had thrown his hands in the air in some sort of victory, and had not in fact been eavesdropping.
"Good man." Falco slapped the back of Slippy's clammy head and took the wheel.
Slippy had disabled the holograms, leaving only the longform ID number visible which all the crew knew by heart. Under these settings, there was no way any of the soldiers present would know at a glance who they were contacting.
Slippy punched in the numbers by muscle memory. When a tiny blip sounded, signalling a stable connection, Falco scrunched up his face and cringed internally.
We should have devised a secret code, he thought. Well, next best thing...
He took a deep breath.
The goanna shouldered past him and unleashed a metal yowl into the mic. Falco elbowed the cackling interloper in the jaw and wiped the goanna's spittle from his face. He ignored the screech of both the goanna and the peacock as he smoothed his feathers down and took another breath.
He sang a song. The one they stuck on each others' doors as a joke or when they were annoyed with each other.
"Oh baby," he gritted into the mic. "You swish that tail, baby." He agonised through the first verse and chorus. Slippy's throat inflated to the size of a bowling ball as he bit back a right hearty chortle.
"On your door, you flying fox bastard," Falco finished for good measure. He slammed his fist down on the console, which ended the transmission, and collapsed back onto the stool with his head in his hands.
Slippy hovered over him, half-worried. "Do you think the team heard?"
"What was that about?" Kain finally strode up to the pair, placing a hand on the frog's shoulder and looking aside at the goanna who was now bleeding from the nose, fire in his eyes and struggling to free himself of the peacock's placative grip. "Was this a bad idea?"
"We're fine!" Slippy chirped, voice strained. "He's working on his stage fright." He felt a wave of rage radiate off Falco.
"You didn't need to do it on such a public line."
"I thought it was time he jumped in the deep end. Let's go, tough guy."
As Slippy pulled Falco to his feet, Falco twisted his body and flipped Slippy onto the floor with a snicker.
Kain went wide-eyed at the display of athleticism. He was almost as surprised by Baka's ability to shake off the assault, barring the frog's offended stare.
"And lay off," Falco threatened, waving a fist at the goanna and peacock, who'd migrated back to glower at the trio from their coffee table.
*.*.*.*.*
"Game time..." Kain rubbed his paws together as they gazed at the fighters from the bottom of the tower. "Baka, Tori, I have got to see you two fly again."
Slippy laughed uncertainly.
"I'm serious! I might be your biggest fan."
"But we haven't done anything," Falco said.
"What? You beat... the brothers last night. That was impressive."
Falco rolled his eyes.
"Not a fan of stardom? Come on, what are you gonna do with the rest of your lives?"
"Back at ya, buddy."
Kain's ear twitched as he bit back a bitter laugh. Falco narrowed his eyes as Kain's paw crept behind his back, but he played dumb.
"Then I'll ask again, why are you guys here? You guys have given me nothing to work with ever since you got up in my business. What have you got to hide?"
"We're nobodies!" Slippy yelped, throwing his hands up as Kain took a step towards him.
Falco swallowed a comment on how Kain had apparently had hardly any business before he and Slippy showed up, for once deciding not to escalate the situation.
"You're just making fun of me, aren't you? That's who we are to you, huh? We're nobodies, out here. Too late for or rejected by the war. Did Corneria put you here, to laugh at us? Though I guess you were stupid enough to take the job."
"We're no Corneria fanboys," said Falco, "so why don't we—"
"Speak for yourself," Slippy cut in.
"You two are infuriating!" Kain cried, chest heaving. "You guys... are..."
"Enemy contact! Contact made with Cornerian affiliate! Alert! Intercept interlopers on the ground!"
Falco hissed at the voice booming from the direction of the Clocktower, knocked Kain to the ground with an elbow to the jaw, and shoved Slippy in front of him.
"Slippy, run!"
"I must have forgotten to erase the call history! Falco..."
"You go first, I'll keep them off your back!"
Falco's eyes fixed themselves upon Kain. The wolf didn't move. Falco moistened his throat.
"We're Star Fox." Falco grinned before cocking his blaster and rushing after Slippy.
Kain stared after them, paralysed.
He felt the dusty wind sweep through his fur dramatically.
A/n: Sorry if this is aggravatingly OOC I haven't played SF in years.
No, I'm not using the scientific nomenclature correctly. Trivia: the working title for this chapter was 'I Care You'.
'Primordial Sludge' is an oblique reference to The Ocean Collective, my newest favourite band o./././o There's no 'eras' associated with them though haha.
Whether they actually have drugs on the Great Fox (at time of writing) is up to interpretation.