Chapter III
"Recapture" + "Resurfaced"
"Gods… It's horrible down there," Krystal mused over the comms.
Backup forces from neighboring planets had finally arrived to help thin out the number of bogeys plaguing the atmosphere, but the tides never faltered, and never turned fully in their favor. A series of cleverly-placed radar jammers, EMPs, and general aparoid infection kept the defenders from taking back their home.
As Star Fox continued circling the skies above the heart of Corneria City, the aparoid population continued to thin out, only to re-establish itself from what appeared to be nothing short of teleporting in more bugs.
"Fox, I've just got off the phone with General Pepper," Peppy said. "You'll need to get down there and destroy the radar jammers before the battleships can push out of the stalemate!"
Fox shot down another aparoid, watching his kill counter climb up by one before responding.
"Fine, I'm going in on foot. Slippy get your drones to give me some cover."
"Copy that," he responded.
The group moved into a piercing wedge formation, with Krystal, Falco and Slippy taking up a triangle behind Fox as they picked off a cloud of aparoids. Moments later, an electronic ping reached their fighter consoles, highlighting the approach of three bullet-shaped containers.
The containers in question had rocketed away from the Great Fox, opening in mid-air to reveal clusters of mini drone fighters.
Almost immediately the drones began firing their lasers and swooping in between enemies, picking more off at a rate faster than any living being could have.
Falco watched in disbelief as Slippy's kill count skyrocketed.
"Hey! Don't tell me his drones count towards his kills!"
"He built 'em and they do a damn good job, all we gotta do is play for second," Fox responded. "Now, cover me!"
Slippy thumbed over his drone controls, moving them into a staggered ring formation to surround their captain as he landed his fighter.
Fox unbuckled himself from his cockpit, hitting both the buttons to release his canopy and open his storage bay as he jumped out of the arwing. He grabbed a rifle and homing launcher from the opened compartment below his fighter, before slinging them over his shoulders and getting a move on.
The vulpine took off running into the city, hiding behind the cover of the awning near a skyscraper as he looked up toward the top. The amount of aparoids in the sky had dropped considerably, but there still seemed to be a dozen or so every couple blocks. His eyes wandered until he spotted what looked like a giant eyeball with six tendrils attached at the rear.
Fox wasn't exactly sure if that was what a radar jammer was supposed to look like, but given the static from the headset in his ear, it seemed like a safe bet.
As the vulpine moved toward the floating eyeball jammer with the homing launcher propped on his shoulder, it immediately turned to look at him. Getting the evil eye from his dad when he was disciplined as a kid was one thing, but this yellow, red and purple abomination was something else.
He heard the sharp tone of the lock-on, and let a rocket loose. It travelled up, hitting the jammer dead center.
...And did absolutely nothing.
Fox watched as it slowly opened its eyelid, seemingly shrugging off the rocket he just flung at it.
"Alright, try dodging this," he muttered as he swapped for the rifle. As Fox aimed down the scope, the eye pointed directly at him, leaving a window wide open for him to squeeze the trigger and let an armor-piercing shot fly right into the pupil.
A loud screech, coupled with an explosion and still-pulsating flesh, pus, and meat chunks raining to the ground followed, leaving Fox wishing he'd brought an umbrella as he narrowly avoided touching the purple goo.
"-... . .-. -.- .-.. .-.. .. ..- -ox! Come in! You copy?" Falco's voice was like music to his ears, something that he'd never say out loud.
The static from his headset had finally subsided somewhat, allowing the voices of his teammates to cut through."
"Yeah, loud and clear. First radar jammer's down."
"We saw from up here while picking off more bugs. The aparoid regeneration is still a problem, but now the CDF can get a lock on some of them," Slippy said.
"What do you mean by some of them?"
"Well… There's 11 more jammers to go. You barely made a small dent in the dead patch on the radar."
Fox groaned.
"Didn't think there'd be that many. Seeing as how I've lost in terms of numbers I'd say now would be a good time for one of you to fly a little lower and give me some mobility."
Falco gave a short laugh.
"I like my fries cajun style, fur-boy."
"Y'know what, scratch what I said earlier. All in favor of Falco paying?"
"Aye."
"Aye!"
"Ya gotta be kiddin' me!"
The pheasant's protests fell on deaf ears as Krystal flew on ahead of him, focusing on bringing her ship low to the ground as Slippy's drones kept the defense up just behind her. She spotted the vulpine relatively off from his dot on the radar, indicating that there was still plenty of the dead zone reaching them.
"Hop on, Fox," she called.
She momentarily stopped and dipped her wing down next to him, allowing him to climb onto her arwing as she took him airborne.
'Dinner had better be good.'
-{=}-
July 5th. The anniversary of the end of the first Lylat war.
It almost seemed fitting, how they'd attack so close to the anniversary. Almost like they were expecting large groups of people to be out and about. There was a rather popular outdoor ceremony for the soldiers, after all. Whoever we're up against this time must've been watching us for a while to figure that out.
Regardless, I had more important issues to tend to, like how I've eaten the rest of the leftovers in the fridge. I wonder if I go to the store and nobody's there to handle the transaction, is it still really shoplifting?
At this point I'd rather commit the sin and beg for forgiveness later, because the local Bullseye-Mart is about to run out of pop-tarts and bagel bites. Don't worry, mom. I'll buy a salad while I'm at it. (No, Eliza. You may not have any pop-tarts.)
I wasn't entirely sure what all I could snag out there, so I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. I had also wanted to bring my trusty baseball bat, but it was starting to seem like it had joined the rest of my long-gone belongings on the transport ship.
After a quick walk through the kitchen, I saw the frying pan still resting on the stovetop, seasoned in all its savory, oily glory.
It'd probably make a fun sound while I bash an alien's head in, too.
"Sure, why not?"
I grabbed the skillet and left the house, locking the door behind me as I timidly stepped onto my front porch.
All was quiet.
Too quiet.
Taking the car would be the fastest option, but it was comparatively loud all things considered. Whatever's on the planet right now would definitely hear me coming from a mile away, no doubt. The grocery store is only about a 5-minute walk away anyway, so walking it is.
Maybe at the store I could grab another baseball bat. A nice slugger that'd give somebody a new soft spot on their cranium.
As I moved from house to house through my neighborhood, I recalled all the times as a kid when I'd be running around outside with the friends on my block. We'd play with water guns in the summer, build snowmen in the winter, make leaf forts in the fall, and get more than enough trouble for our parents to deal with.
What, you've never made a leaf fort? Next time you bust out the rakes, make a teepee or some other free-standing structure out of tall sticks (A/N: bamboo works best), tie vines around the perimeter, then dump all of the leaves you spent hours of hard work raking over top.
Bonus points if you do it like we did and wire up Christmas lights.
As I got to the far end of the block, I heard a low droning sound getting gradually louder.
Panicking, I looked around for a place to hide, finding a good enough spot in some thick bushes around the neighbors' house.
The deafening buzz reached the height of its volume as a massive, angular, butterfly-like creature flew by. It had eight wings with yellow abscesses growing out of the tip of each end. A consistent pattern of black hexagons wrapped around its purple body, ending at the spiked plumage atop its head.
'Please don't let that be one of the weaker ones.'
The leaf forts are an actual thing that I used to do with the other kids in my neighborhood. Just something I like to reminisce on from time to time. :)