Happy Father's Day! Yep, we did this again!
A bit soon for another Simon drabble perhaps, but Jack came up with this idea out of the blue and we both just fell in love with it. You should know up front that this is not a continuation of Drabble 4, but does provide some more insight into our favorite ringtailed merc regardless. You saw him in his element back in the Cold-Blooded War, and now you get to see him...significantly less so. :P
Drabble 8: The Sassifier
The Meadowlands
VanDal Household
7: 33 PM
Simon entered the dark room, his knife drawn and his senses even sharper. The metal door slammed shut behind him of its own volition, plunging him into complete blackness. With his night vision, he could see to some degree around him, but his enemies were crafty and hid in the shadows. And he had no doubt there were enemies. There were always enemies.
He had dreams like this almost every night now. It was like his subconscious was trying to keep his skills active even a decade after the end of the Cold-Blooded War. After long becoming lucid to them, Simon started to treat these flights of fancy as dedicated simulation training. "Alright, any time, guys. I don't have all night."
The enemy attacked. It started simple: two Sauriet monitor lizards, dressed in their traditional red uniforms and wielding combat knives of their own. They jumped out at him from the shadows and struck from opposite sides, leaving no room to dodge.
Simon didn't need to. His left paw reached up and grabbed the reptile's wrist, twisting it roughly and making him drop the knife. His right paw slammed down on the other attacker's elbow, causing his arm to buckle and the knife to swerve past him. All of this without using his own knife, which he now turned in his grip and plunged into the chest of the second reptile. The soldier gurgled, but Simon didn't waste any time and quickly pulled the knife back out, spinning on his heel and slashing it across the throat of the first reptile before he could recover. The motion completed, Simon stood in place as the two reptiles dropped to the floor around him. "Next."
Next was something a bit more challenging. From the shadows around him, he heard a chorus of hissing and then serpentine soldiers began to leap out at him, venomous fangs bared and ready to sink into his tender flesh.
Simon swung upwards and sliced the first snake's jaw clean open, unhinging it even more than usual. Before the snake even hit the floor, Simon had killed the next one, anticipating their lunges and cutting them down before any got too close. They then started to attack in groups, forcing Simon to dodge some lunges and counter others based on tactical priority. They brushed up against his uniform a few times, but none landed their deadly bite.
Soon enough, Simon was surrounded by a ring of snake corpses and covered in enough reptile blood to lower his body temperature. "Next."
There was a sharp click from behind him and Simon dove just as a hail of bullets tore past him. He might've been hindered by the snake bodies, but the snake bodies were gone, like the lizard bodies before them. If only real combat cleaned up after itself as efficiently as the dream world.
There were other perks as well. For one, the version of Compact Cobra now attacking him possessed all the skill of the original, but was completely and mercifully silent. A huge improvement.
Simon withdrew his Silver Centurion, which he never had fighting the real Cobra but was too good not to use, and fired back at him from behind a metal column. As expected, Cobra contorted around the shots and slithered right for him, switching to his knife attachment as he did so. Simon switched in turn and the two began to clash blades just like old times, neither gaining an immediate advantage over the other.
In some iterations of this dream, their battle played through to completion. Other times, this happened.
Cobra suddenly lurched, not making a sound even in his death throes, and crumpled to the floor, his body disappearing right before Simon's eyes. "Honey, is that you again?"
"The one and only," said Karen, stepping out of the shadows with her own favored blade. "Honestly, I don't know why you bother with the rest of these losers. I'm the only one who can still challenge you."
"What, I thought you enjoyed foreplay," Simon replied, winking slyly.
"Shut up." She shifted into her stance and charged.
"That's my girl." Simon charged back, and the two raccoons fought like he had forgotten their anniversary again.
"Daaaaaad!" a voice echoed from seemingly everywhere at once.
Simon tried to ignore it, focusing on the battle. One mistake and he was finished.
"Daaaaaaaaaaad!"
Stab, parry, parry, dodge, slash, parry, stab, parry, dodge-
"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!"
Parry, slash, parry, SHIT!
Simon's knife went hurtling out of his paw, and Karen pressed hers firmly against his throat. "You had better wake up and take care of our son, or I am going to kick your physical and metaphysical ass!"
Simon woke up.
The raccoon yawned, finding himself not in bed, but on an armchair in the living room. He wasn't that old yet. Not that he could tell when he'd had gray hairs since kithood.
Their home was humble, but comfortable. Two floors, two bedrooms, three bathrooms, even a backyard pool. The Meadowlands were a fairly wealthy suburb, but while the VanDals could've afforded something better, given the size of their Delta Fox settlement, that usually meant having to deal with all the pompous sheep that made this district their own. Staying in the middle rung with their fellow predators and more tolerable prey was vastly preferable over, say, having a hot tub on the roof.
Besides, Simon liked his privacy. Out here, at least most of their neighbors knew better than to think he wanted to go bowling on Sundays. Not that he couldn't afford to get out more. Simon was just as badass as ever in his dreams, but real life hadn't been so kind. Instead of his combat gear and beret, he sported a pair of jeans and a white tank top. Instead of his toned muscles and sleek physique, he had unkempt fur and a noticeable pooch. Though he would never say it aloud, Simon actually kinda missed the war.
But atop his pooch sat one of the two reasons he wouldn't give this up for the world. Kyle VanDal was a bit runty, even for a ten-year-old, wearing a pair of shorts and a striped shirt, along with a pair of taped glasses and one of the dorkiest smiles he had ever seen. "There you are! What were you dreaming about, Dad? Fighting the scalies again?"
Simon felt the presence of death and looked to the kitchen, where Karen had been busily preparing dinner. Her knife had ceased chopping vegetables, and she glared at him as if contemplating chopping something else. The dream version of her had been scarily accurate.
He cleared his throat nervously. "Now, son...what did I tell you about using that word? We just call them reptiles now, remember?"
"Okaaaaaaay…" Kyle said, pouting childishly. Naturally, he disregarded this seconds later. "So do you think they call us 'furries'?"
Simon pretended to contemplate this. "Well, Zootopia is pretty furry."
"I knew it!" Kyle cheered, bouncing up and down on his belly. "The evidence speaks for itself, Your Honor! I rest my case!"
And this, Simon noted, was what happened when your ten-year-old son decided he really wanted to become a lawyer. He smiled and patted his head. "Yes, yes...Not Guilty, whatever."
He huffed. "No, Dad, I'm gonna be a prosecutor! I want Guilty! Get it right!"
"Of course." He gently lifted Kyle under the arms and set him down on the carpeted floor. "Just remember, you may joke about it now, but the Cold-Blooded War was serious business. Your father was lucky to make it home in one piece." He pulled a lever on the side of his chair, extending a footrest that he plopped his two black-furred feet on top of. "Understand?"
"Serious business," Kyle echoed dramatically.
"Close enough." He yawned again and closed his eyes in an attempt to get back to his nap.
As expected, Kyle didn't pick up on the hint. "Hey, do you think you can tell my friends some of your war stories when they get here? They don't get that one about how you beat Compact Cobra by changing the way you talk."
"I...don't think I could explain that any better," he admitted, cracking one eye open and peering back into the kitchen. "Besides, I bet you'll all be too busy enjoying your mother's famous brownies anyway."
Through some kind of motherly sixth sense, or eavesdropping, Karen picked up on that immediately. "I hope you didn't forget that I'm going to an IA conference tonight," she said, packing the salad she had made for herself into a tupperware container. "You'll have to handle Kyle's sleepover yourself. That's not going to be a problem, is it?"
Simon snapped both eyes open, feeling like he'd just had his throat slit after all. "No...of course not." Trying to keep track of one kit was hard enough sometimes, but three of them? He'd woken up from a dream and into a nightmare.
"If it's too much trouble, I could watch over them," said a timid, squeaky voice. Over by the television, the old-school kind with a dial and antenna, a porcupine in a plain white shirt, baggy pants, and a bandanna wrapped around her head was busily dusting the surface, using a rag she hung from her quills. "I'm not doing anything else tonight. I could stay a little later and keep them company. You don't have to pay me overtime or anything."
Simon was sorely tempted for a second, but shook his head. "No, Reina. You're our housekeeper, not our kitsitter. It wouldn't be right to dump this on you. But thanks anyway."
Reina looked a little disappointed, but nodded and went back to her work, popping in a pair of headphones from a cassette player she always carried around.
Soon enough, Reina finished her duties and departed for the night, as did Karen, giving Simon a peck on the cheek before she left for her conference. "Good luck. Try not to blow the house up."
And then his better half was gone, leaving him alone with Kyle. "I'm gonna go look out the window for their car!" he abruptly announced, bounding out of the room on all-fours.
Simon sighed, leaning back in his chair. At least he could try to formulate some kind of plan of attack before-
"They're here!"
He muttered something under his breath that he was grateful Kyle wasn't around for. Looking up at the clock, he saw that it was only 7:50. They said 8, dammit!
Alright, he was knee-deep in unknown territory, threat level as of yet undetermined, and operating under faulty intel. This was going to be rough. But Simon had dealt with worse odds, and he rose from his seat to answer the door the second the bell rang.
Kyle was already out there, having apparently gone through the window. The raccoon kit was standing near two others now. One was a slightly-plump badger in a blue t-shirt and shorts. The other was a possum girl in a red, oversized sweater and jeans. Both came equipped with sleeping bags, while the girl also carried a squirrel doll with swirly eyes and big teeth. "Hi, Mr. VanDal!" they greeted.
"Hello, Eric. Delilah," he said, waving a little and trying to sound enthused. He didn't dislike kits by any means; he just had no idea how to interact with them.
"Have fun, you two!" a much more cheerful voice yelled from a red minivan, which quickly sped off before Simon could ask some very pressing questions about how to take care of his offspring. His eyes narrowed. Clever tactic, Mr. O'Possum. This round goes to you.
As soon as the van was gone, he felt a tug on his shirt and found Eric looking up at him with those big, adorable eyes that completely failed to move him. "Excuse me, Mr. VanDal. Did your wife make more of those delicious brownies for us? I've been looking forward to them all day."
He hesitated. "Well...she's not actually here tonight. So no, she didn't."
"No brownies?" Those big, adorable eyes began to tear up. "B-But we l-love her b-brownies..." And then Eric started crying, way too loudly and over-the-top for a kit his age.
"Now look what you did! You made Ricky cry!" Delilah said accusingly, waving her little finger at him.
Five minutes in unknown territory and I'm already under fire. "Now, hold on!" Simon said hurriedly. "What if...what if I made the brownies instead?"
"Y-You can do t-that, Mr. VanDal?" the little drama queen sniffled.
Abort mission! Abort mission! "Of course."
"Awesome!" Eric cheered up instantly and rushed right inside to boot up the PreyStation, with Delilah following close behind, giving Simon nothing more than a playful punch in the leg for his trouble.
Kyle was the last inside, smirking knowingly up at him. "Are you sure about this, Dad? You and I both know you've never baked a thing in your life."
"How hard can it be?" he asked stubbornly. "Now go play your silly picture games."
Kyle shrugged and went to do just that while Simon closed the door and made his way into the kitchen, panicking internally. I've been given an assignment I don't know how to complete. The first step is to survey my surroundings and gather intel.
The first thing he saw was a sticky note attached to the fridge:
"I know you're hopeless without me, so I left my brownie recipe out for you. Follow the instructions carefully. I was serious about not blowing up the house. Love, Karen."
Emergency orders! Just what he needed! Simon might've kissed the note if he weren't at risk of being spotted by the enemy. He soon found the recipe book on the nearby counter, already opened to the page he needed. "Butter, sugar, eggs, cocoa powder...yes, I can obtain these things."
As the sounds of technological mayhem and juvenile taunts faded into the background, Simon preheated the oven to 350°, then set to work finding each of the principal components, putting them together on the counter for assembly along with a big metal bowl to use as a storage container. He threw on an apron and flexed his fingers. "Now...let us begin."
With the recipe open right next to him, Simon initiated assembly of the brownies, not only following the instructions carefully, but refusing to deviate in the slightest. It said half a cup of butter, and he ensured it was half a cup exactly. He cracked the eggs like he cracked skulls, with pinpoint precision and in as few pieces as possible. The other ingredients were dropped in, and then he stirred as forcefully as he could muster, refusing to allow any of the components to resist alignment.
A bit messier than when he started, Simon poured the mixture into a square metal pan and stuck it into the oven, setting the timer for twenty minutes. Excellent. The formula is completed. That wasn't so hard, after all.
Simon turned around, and jumped when he saw Delilah standing right behind him. It had been a while since anyone were able to sneak up behind him, which spoke either to this kit's potential or his own waning abilities. He didn't wish to entertain either notion. "Mr. VanDal, are the brownies done yet? We're hungry."
A complication. "I just put them in...uh, sweetie. They'll be ready in twenty minutes."
"But we're huuuuuuuuuuuuungry!" she insisted, as if time itself flowed by the emptiness of their stomachs. "Isn't that right, Ricky?" she called into the other room.
"T-They're not d-done y-yet?"
Simon needed to act fast or the badger bomb was going to go off again. "W-Wait, hold on! They'll be done soon! I promise!"
"Thankies!" Delilah said, skipping back into the other room. If they were already this skilled at manipulation, they would have no problem becoming lawyers.
Now how to handle this dilemma. There seemed to be no way out unless he could make time itself speed up.
Maybe I can. He took a step back and looked at the problem logically, putting his analytical mind to work. If the brownies needed to be baked for twenty minutes at 350°...then of course! They should only take ten minutes at 700°!
Simon grinned and cranked the oven up, pleased at his own cunning. He hadn't lost his touch after all.
Ten Minutes Later
"Here." Simon dumped the plate of brownies in front of the enemy, watching them sniff the air distastefully and look down with concern at what could more accurately be called blackies.
"Um...Mr. VanDal, are you sure you made these right?" Eric asked.
"And did your face mask get bigger?" Delilah added.
Simon smiled dangerously through the massive scorch mark covering his face. "Do you want them...or not?"
They ate every bite.
Groaning uncomfortably and rubbing his stomach, Kyle pushed the empty plate aside and picked up his game controller again. "Hey, Dad, wanna join in on Claw of Duty? I think there's a few levels based on the Cold-Blooded War."
"Yes, I would love to partake in a fictional and likely misrepresented version of a real war that I actually could've died in."
The three kits just stared for a moment until Eric slowly passed a controller to him.
"Sarcasm, Eric."
"Then tell us more about the real war!" Delilah said, leaning over the side of the couch and beaming up at him. "We still wanna know what went down with Compact Cobra!"
"Told you," Kyle noted.
Figuring he was a better source than whatever this on-screen junk told them, Simon plopped back down in his chair and was instantly surrounded, Kyle back on his belly, Eric clinging to the armrest, and Delilah hanging by her tail from the top. "Right...now, let's forget about Cobra. Permanently, if able. Wouldn't you rather hear about what happened next?"
"Oooooooooh!" The three kits grinned and nodded in agreement. At least he knew some of their weaknesses.
"Alright, we'll pick up right after the battle. As you recall, I was bitten in the leg, but immediately remembered I had an antivenin and injected it…"
"Do you have any idea where I'm going now?" Simon asked, lumbering down the steel corridor. His leg still throbbed a little, but the worst of it was over and it would soon recover.
"Let's see...you seem to be heading towards the jail cells, Hot Fuzz," Karen observed. "So I guess you should go save White Fox first. Maybe she'll have some intel on how to shut down Metal Shell and actually be useful for once."
"Did White Fox, like, kill your family or something?"
"Not important. Anyway, it looks like the inside of Outer Heatin' is a lot more fortified than the outside. I'm seeing a lot of guards around the place. You'll have to be real sneaky here."
"Not a problem." Simon entered the prison from an upper walkway, glancing down at the multitude of Sauriet guards patrolling the area. There was about a dozen of them. Nodding to himself, Simon dropped down to the lower floor and hid himself behind an air conditioner, waiting for a lizard to pass by. From there, he made his way towards White Fox's cell, remaining out of sight.
"Booooooo!" the kits yelled.
"What? That's how it happened."
"But that's boring!" Delilah argued. "Weren't you some kinda super soldier? Why didn't you just take 'em all out?"
Simon facepalmed. "This is exactly why I hate video games. War isn't that simple! Maybe I could've beaten them all, but not unscathed, and they would've just called in more and more until I was dead!"
She crossed her arms and pouted, which looked especially silly when she was upside-down. "Fiiiiiiiiine. So what happened next?"
Simon swiped a stolen keycard across the reader to White Fox's cell and slipped inside. The captured mercenary was huddled up in the corner, donning a black uniform with the Delta Fox emblem. "Finally, they send someone here," the Arctic vixen said, smiling up at him. "I have information that can help you take down Big Boa and Metal Shell. First, I'll list its technical readouts-"
Delilah made a loud snoring noise.
"-and that's everything you need to know," White Fox finished.
"Thank you, White Fox," Simon said. "I'm sure that information will be vital to completing my mission."
"Ask her if she thinks she can manage to get out of here without getting shot and/or recaptured," Karen told him.
"Do you think you can escape on your own?" Simon asked.
"Of course. I'm not Delta Fox for nothing."
Karen snorted as White Fox headed past them and slipped away. "Seriously, if she doesn't make it, we're not going back for her."
"Honey, be professional."
"Oh, fine. But Metal Shell first."
He begrudgingly agreed. "Right. So now that we know [insert technical stuff here], we should be able to destroy Metal Shell with [insert method of destruction here]."
"Affirmative."
"Can we just skip to the part where you destroy Metal Shell now?" Eric asked.
"Sure, why not? It's not like this was one of the most important missions of my life or anything."
"Yay!"
"So you finally made it, Maskovich!" laughed a very large boa constrictor with green and black coloring and wearing an eyepatch. "Behold, the unstoppable Metal Shell!"
A giant door beneath the hanger opened and a mechanical monstrosity was slowly lifted to the surface. It was dark green and in the general shape of a tortoise, hefted up on four legs and weighted down by a thick shell patterned with hexagons. On its back, a menacing railgun was pointed up into the sky, from which Simon assumed its nuclear shells were meant to be fired. The head of Metal Shell was comically small in comparison, and didn't seem to serve much purpose other than glaring at him with glowing red eyes.
"An impressive piece of craftsmanship, isn't it?" Boa asked tauntingly. "Soon, Metal Shell will rain destruction upon your precious Zootopia, and the Sauriet Union shall dance upon its remains!" He frowned, seeing the very unimpressed look on Simon's face. "Alright, why do you look so bored?"
He shrugged. "Oh, it seems pretty dangerous and all, don't get me wrong. It's just...I've seen it before."
"When?!"
"When I was planting explosive charges on it."
A series of explosions rocked the hanger as Metal Shell's legs began to cave in from under it. Its top heavy structure made for an imposing weapon, but also its most critical weakness. "No!" Big Boa shouted.
"Yes." Simon leapt forward and kicked Boa square in the jaw, propelling him back until he slid right underneath the collapsing tank. He had the time only to let out a girly scream before he was crushed under the might of his own ultimate weapon.
Simon smirked. "Mission accomplished."
"Booooooooooooooo!" the kits yelled even louder.
"That's how it happened!" Simon insisted. "It's not my fault the commander was an idiot too!"
"But that's so lame though!" Delilah said. "He had this giant, mechanical death tortoise and he didn't even get to use it?!"
"It is a bit anticlimactic," Kyle admitted.
"What do you want me to do?" Simon asked, annoyed. "Just make up some epic battle?"
"Yeah!" they enthusiastically agreed.
Simon looked up at the clock. It was just past 9. Finally, my extraction! "Well, too bad. It's bedtime. The moral of the story? Real life is disappointing."
The response was predictable. "Awwwww, do we have to?" Kyle whined.
"My dad lets me stay up until midnight!" Delilah bragged.
"Actually...I'm usually in bed by now anyway…" Eric admitted.
"Then it's a shame you're in my house and operating under my rules," he said simply. He pointed a sharp finger upstairs. "Bed."
The kits groaned, but grabbed their things and headed upstairs anyway, with Delilah taking the time to blow a raspberry at him on the way.
With the enemy falling back, Simon soon put his feet back up and tried to find something good on TV. He wasn't foolish enough to think, even for a second, that they would actually go straight to bed. But kits would be kits. As long as they didn't kill each other up there, he was content to leave them be.
"Murderer! Murderer!" Kyle screamed.
Simon reacted instantly, pulling a knife from under his seat cushion and rushing upstairs. He was about to throw open the door to Kyle's room when his son yelled again. "The court hereby accuses Ms. O'Possum of the murder of Mr. Stuffycheeks!"
He let out a sigh of relief, hiding the knife in the back of his jeans and much more softly opening the door.
Inside was a sight to behold. In the short time since they'd left him, the three kits had managed to turn a fairly average boy's bedroom into a courtroom. On his left side, behind a stack of pillows, was Kyle, looking much more professional than usual and ruffling a poorly-drawn picture of the family like an official legal document. On the opposite side was Eric, repeatedly slamming his paw onto his pillow stack in an effort to look intimidating. Between them, with her back to him, Delilah was sitting under an overturned crib they had apparently dug out of the closet. "I'm innocent! I'm innocent, I tells ya!"
What fresh hell have I just wandered into? "Dare I ask what's going on in here?"
All three of them turned towards him, having only just noticed him now. "Oh, hi Dad. We're just trying to solve the murder of Mr. Stuffycheeks," Kyle answered, pointing to a squirrel doll with a pen stabbed through its chest. Simon realized it was the same doll Delilah had brought here with her, and wondered with morbid curiosity if she had done so purely to "murder" it.
"I see. And do you recall me telling you all to go to bed?"
"Objection!" shouted the defense, prosecution, and defendant.
I really should've seen that one coming.
"We can't go to bed while there's a murderer at large!" Eric protested.
"That would be a travesty of the criminal justice system!" Kyle agreed.
In Simon's humble opinion, Zootopia's criminal justice system was already a travesty. "So what you're telling me is that you're not going to sleep until you solve the case?"
"Of course!" Kyle said. He could practically see the lightbulb appear above his head. "Hey...why don't you join in, Dad? We still need a judge! All we've got is Mr. Kangs, but…" He whispered. "Between you and me, I don't trust him to give an impartial verdict."
Simon looked up at the kangaroo doll sitting on Kyle's bed, a toy mallet crudely glued to its paw.
He sighed. "Is there really no other way you'll go to sleep?"
"Nope!" all three cheerfully responded.
If I need to go undercover to neutralize the enemy, so be it. "Alright...so all I have to do is sit there and agree or disagree with stuff, right?"
"Pretty much," Kyle said, shrugging.
"Fine." Simon moved across the room and hopped up on the bed, casually shoving Mr. Kangs out of the way. "Proceed."
Kyle cleared his throat. "Right. Um...as I saying, Ms. O'Possum was seen fleeing the scene of the crime at, uh, 9:00 PM, right around the confirmed time of death! And...that's more or less my opening statement, so let's hear testimony from the defendant!"
Delilah trembled, making her best show of being a poor, falsely-accused mammal. "Oh, woe is me! If I must!"
Witness Testimony - I'm Totally Innocent!
I would never kill Mr. Stuffycheeks! He was my bestest friend ever!
At the time of the murder, I was upstairs, powdering my face!
When I came down to check on Mr. Stuffycheeks, he was just laying there in the middle of the kitchen! Murdered!
So I immediately got out of there and called the police from my cell phone!
But they brought me in, saying I did it! Why, the nerve of those mammals!
Simon rested his chin in one paw and very slowly blinked.
"Psst, Dad!" Kyle whispered loudly. "Tell the defense to begin his cross-examination." Eric was tapping his long claws on the pillow impatiently.
"Defense, you may begin your cross-examination," he muttered.
Eric perked up at once. "Yes, Your Honor!"
Cross-Examination - I'm Totally Innocent!
I would never kill Mr. Stuffycheeks! He was my bestest friend ever!
At the time of the murder, I was upstairs, powdering my face!
Hold it!
"Defendant, you were arrested at the scene and brought here without any time to clean up!" Eric said. "So where is this powder now?"
Delilah rolled her eyes. "Geez, Ricky, we're just pretending! Just imagine there's powder on my face!"
He flinched. "W-Well, you could've used talcum powder or something! No one told me!"
"Ew, I'm not putting that stuff on my face! I'd be coughing up a storm!"
"S-Sorry…"
When I came down to check on Mr. Stuffycheeks, he was just laying there in the middle of the kitchen! Murdered!
Hold it!
"Did you see anything suspicious aside from the body?" Eric asked.
"N-No... " she said, still shaking. "I was too shocked by the sight of the buh buh...buh buh...bodyyyyyyy!" She started crying in a painfully fake manner.
Objection!
"The defense is badgering the witness!" Kyle accused.
"I am not and that's offensive!"
Hold it!
That one was Simon. "I'm sorry...how long does this usually take?"
"About a couple hours," Kyle answered. "Longer if we go to investigation, but that part isn't as fun, so we usually skip it."
"Uh huh." Simon promptly got up. "Okay, court adjourned, we're done here."
He raised a paw to shush the oncoming slew of complaints. "Look, it's obvious Delilah did it anyway. Why else would she have left the scene of the crime to call the police when she was already inside the house? If the sight was too much for her, she could've just moved to another room. Clearly, she was just trying to escape."
"Eep!" Delilah collapsed to the floor, playing dead.
"Case closed. Now go to sleep."
Eric started crying.
"No, none of that!" Simon said sternly, making the badger clam up.
"Dad, come oooooon, can't you just have a little fun for once?" Kyle asked. "I mean, what do you even do these days besides hang out around the house, watch TV, and occasionally get dragged outside by Mom?"
The enemy has breached the defenses! Retreat, retreat! But Simon did not retreat. Kyle was right. He was a complete washout of the soldier he'd once been and there was nothing left for him to enjoy in life.
Nothing except his family.
And here he was, wasting away time that he could've been spending with his son. And those other two, but mostly his son.
After a moment of consideration, Simon sat back down on the bed. "Alright...back to the testimony then?"
Kyle and Eric were plainly stunned. Delilah was the opposite, spontaneously springing back up to life. "Nah, you're right, I totally did it! But there's still some other stuff we wanted to do tonight!" She listed them off on her bald fingers. "Pillow fighting, makeovers, stargazing…"
Simon scoffed. "I thought you said you wanted to have fun." He stood back up and walked out of the room, gesturing for them to follow.
Confused, the kits did as he asked as Simon led them out of Kyle's room and into his own shared bedroom with Karen. They stood outside the room, as if afraid to step one toe across the boundaries, while Simon walked up to the closet and opened it up. "Now this is fun."
"Whooooooa!" they chorused.
"Promise not to tell Karen about this?"
They all nodded obediently.
"Good." He pulled out an old-fashioned foam dart gun. "Then choose your weapon."
They didn't go to sleep for quite some time after that.
10:00 PM
"Banzaaaaaai!"
Soon enough, the kits were all running around the house, shooting foam darts at a variety of authentic military training targets Simon had set up. Kyle closed one eye and shot a target sitting in the window, then another inside the open oven in the kitchen, then another perched atop the TV, right between the antenna. None of those hits were bullseyes, but still impressive. "Excellent work, Kyle," Simon praised. "If this were the battlefield, I would fight beside you any day."
He beamed proudly. "Thanks, Dad!"
"Yes! Ten points!" Delilah announced, dancing atop the couch.
"My nose isn't a target!" Eric cried from the floor.
Simon wordlessly grabbed Kyle's gun from his paws and shot Delilah square in the back as she tried to retreat. "And if this were the battlefield, you would be court-marshaled. No friendly fire!"
11:00 PM
"Alright, soldiers, for your mostly respectable conduct tonight, I am awarding each of you a medal of valor." Simon leaned down and pinned a shiny medal to each of their lapels. They went nicely with the getup each of them had chosen for the occasion.
Kyle was suited up in his father's old Delta Fox uniform, which was way too big for him and completely impractical to actually fight in, but still adorable. He pushed the beret up over his eyes. "Thanks, Dad."
Eric was dressed as protectively as possible after the foam dart incident, in padded body armor and a large helmet. He looked less like a badger and more like a military-grade beach ball. He didn't even notice his medal until Simon poked him in his exposed neck. "Oh! Uh, thanks, Mr. VanDal."
Delilah spared no expense with full commando gear, actual (empty) weapons, and war paint splattered across her cheeks. "I am a goddess of death," she said, grinning wickedly. "But thank you."
"I am so glad you're not actually keeping these," Simon said, even more worried about today's youth than usual.
12:00 AM
"Dad, are you sure about this? What if Mom sees?"
"Then promise to remember me always, but it's worth it."
They were all the way up on the roof now. There may not have been a hot tub, but there was a very large box of fireworks, long-banned by any reasonable safety committee and covered in warning labels. "This is how Delta Fox really celebrates," he said, an intense smile slowly crossing his muzzle. "You think those games of yours have a lot of things blowing up? You ain't seen nothing yet!"
"Woooooo! Light 'em up!" Delilah encouraged.
"I can't watch!" Eric cowered inside of his armor.
"Oh yes you are!" Delilah forcefully reached inside and pulled his head back out.
Simon lit a match. "Care to count us off?"
"3!" Kyle yelled
"2!" Delilah joined in.
"...1!" Eric said hesitantly.
"Boom." Simon lit the fuse, watching it travel all the way over to the box of family-marketed explosives.
The resulting blast knocked all of them onto their backsides as the sky was bombarded by a barrage of fireworks, so bright that the initial volley was almost blinding. But once they did manage to open their eyes, they didn't close them again. "Oooooooooh! Aaaaaaaaaaah!"
Simon chuckled, for once just as entranced by the light show erupting above them. He wrapped an arm around Kyle's shoulder and pulled him closer, smiling down at his son. Kyle smiled back.
Yes...maybe he could get used to living again.
1:00 AM
"Honey...I'm home…" Karen yawned as she wearily opened the front door and stepped inside. Thank god for being nocturnal sometimes or she never would've made it through that presentation.
She wasn't surprised to see that no one was still up. The kits were probably asleep hours ago, and Simon hadn't pulled a late-nighter since the war. She dropped her purse ungracefully on the floor and lumbered upstairs, too tired to take notice of the house being immaculately, and suspiciously, clean. Knowing that Simon was most likely dead to the world himself, she opened the door to their shared bedroom quietly and stepped inside.
She was halfway into bed, fully-clothed, when she registered that he wasn't in there with her. "Dammit, Simon, if you're sleepdiving again, I'm just leaving you in the trash can this time."
Karen sniffed the air. No...Simon was nearby, and he didn't smell like garbage. At least, no more than usual. Deciding she might want to smack him for making her stay up even later, she followed her nose out of the room and over to the neighboring one. Raising an eyebrow, she slowly opened the door to Kyle's room.
It was there she found Simon, fast asleep on the floor. And there was no risk of him sleepdiving either, because there were three kits weighing him down.
By cuddling him.
And he was cuddling them too.
Karen smiled. That is precious. She raised her phone and snapped a picture. And blackmail.
Content to leave them be, she closed the door and headed back to her own room, collapsing into bed.
Neither dreamt that night.
Okay, so we lied. Sorta. This isn't a direct continuation of Drabble 4, but we saw an opportunity to bring some closure to that little arc and we took it, even if it's a bit of a diluted version. Unlike Metal Gear itself, we decided that once was enough.
Consider this a sort of preview for "Badge & Delilah: Ace Attorneys", but if you've seen any of my previous forays into Ace Attorney stuff, it's probably not that jarring to you. Still doesn't mean it's going to happen next or anything. (And yes, this implies that our version of Zootopia runs on the same legal system as Ace Attorney. If this concerns you, it should.)
And the fable of "How the Raccoon Lost His Leg" still has no ending. But hey, at least now you know when it didn't happen. :P.
Reina Quillivia belongs to me.