Chapter IV
"Small Victories" + "Strawberry pop-tarts"
"Everything alright up there?"
"Yeah, just gotta catch my breath," Fox replied.
The vulpine was crouched down on Krystal's wing, still toting the homing launcher over his shoulder and rifle across his back. The two had taken a slow flight around the ravaged city, downing the rest of the jammers after what felt like an entire work week. The aparoid population on Corneria had thinned out considerably as well, thanks to the combined efforts of the CDF's fighters and Slippy's drones.
"So what's next on the agenda," the vulpine asked. Peppy reported from the bridge soon after.
"Well, we have to jump up to Beltino's orbital gate. Our work is done here, for now at least."
Fox breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed like they were finally nearing the light at the end of the tunnel.
"I got off the phone with the general earlier. Says they've found the aparoid homeworld," the old hare mentioned. "Right now our current plan is to rest up before we jet off to the orbital gate."
"Sounds like a plan, then. Team, head back to the Great Fox and rest up; day cycle's starting early tomorrow."
Falco gave a half-hearted 'woo-hoo' over the comms.
"Falco, we'll be busting out the champagne once we're done," Fox added.
The avian cheered for real as he did a barrel roll.
It wasn't exactly their first victory since the aparoid invasion, but it definitely felt like their first notable one.
Fox slung the homing launcher back onto his shoulder, and dropped to a kneel on Krystal's wing. They finally came around the skyscraper where Fox had landed, spotting his Arwing waiting on the grass.
"Go ahead and drop me down, Krys."
"Mmm… I dunno, Fox," she replied playfully. "I quite like having you on my wing."
The vulpine opened his sun visor, shooting her a frisky look.
"Keep that up and I'll be on your tail instead."
"Hey, lovebirds!" Falco interrupted. "You realize you're on the open channel, right?"
Krystal flushed a shade of pink as Fox jumped off onto the grass.
"Oh, come on. It's not like you and Katt do the same thing."
Falco merely grunted before he and Slippy gunned it back to the Great Fox.
The vulpine stowed his weapons before climbing into his fighter, taking off vertically before spinning his thrust rearward. The two of them gently flew up toward the sky, before reaching their altitude ceiling and increasing their speed.
'So, you'll be on my tail, will you,' Krystal thought to him in a suave tone.
Fox's ears grew pink, but he decided to play along.
'Depends on how well you can use a flight stick.'
He could see Krystal practically laughing her helmet off in her cockpit.
'Dirty fox.'
Without warning, the vixen hit the boost and left him in her wake.
"Alright, I see how we're playing," Fox muttered under his breath.
He blasted off after her, seemingly closing the gap inch by inch before they finally reached the Great Fox's hangar. By the time he'd fully docked in the hangar, the vixen had already made it through the pressure chamber, but Fox already had a pretty good idea how this game was going to unfold.
As soon as he made it through the heavy metal door to the armory, he practically ripped his flight suit off and threw it into his locker, still chasing after the vixen sprinting down the hallway. He could hear her laughter echoing behind her as he began to close the gap once more.
He watched as she headed for the elevator, but Fox had an idea.
Off to his side was a tall, metal pole and cut-out connecting the multiple layers to the ship together. It was adopted from the many fire stations across Corneria and other planets, but he wasn't going to use it for its intended purpose.
After getting a firm grip and taking a deep breath, Fox began pulling himself up the fire pole, quickly reaching the next floor up which housed the crew quarters. The vulpine grabbed the ledge and pulled himself up, scrambling over to the room that he and Krystal shared.
He had a hunch that she'd wait in his room to try and jump him, but Fox was one step ahead.
Waiting just inside his door, he soon heard Krystal move into his room.
Without warning, he closed the door once she was inside and scooped her off her feet into a giggly hug, taking pride in the fact that he outplayed her at the last second.
Once the giddiness wore off, they sat on the edge of their bed, watching the stars out of the large viewport on the opposite side of the room.
"So… about that dinner," the vixen started.
Fox rolled onto his back and jokingly groaned. His voice was practically dripping with sarcasm.
"What, are the cardboard-flavored rations not doing for you?"
Krystal let out an amused snort.
"No, I actually prefer the coffee that tastes like boiled dirt. Why do you ask?"
The vulpine stretched his arms out, popping a few vertebrae as he stood up and headed to their small bathroom.
"Once we're all through this mess I'll take everyone to proper fine dining," he called. "We haven't tasted much of home in a while anyway."
There he was, going out of his way again to keep his team's morale up as best he could. Krystal absolutely adored him for this- none of the flight commanders back on Cerinia took even a fraction of this much time to ensure the comfort of their teammates.
Then again, none of them ran a tight-knit PMC, or had anyone as loving as Fox.
The vixen soon joined the vulpine, changing into their nightwear. Resting up before the trip out was in order, and it was prime time for a snooze in the cuddle puddle.
Fox quickly found himself smothered in Krystal's chest with her arms wrapped around his head. He smiled as she scratched around his ears, eliciting a soft purr.
Yes, celebrating small victories was always a good idea.
-{=}-
Well, I made it to the store.
In one piece, surprisingly.
They didn't have any baseball bats. Probably because it was a grocery store. They did have plenty of pans, though. Maybe it's a sign.
Either way, I've spent the last hour or so rifling through the different aisles, grabbing whatever's left and shoving it into my bag. Uncooked pasta seems like it's shaping up to be a mainstay in my kitchen, maybe I'll end up cooking like the Fortunians by the time this is over.
My kitchen.
It feels weird to say.
I rounded the aisle that ran along the back of the store, passing by all of the empty, dark refrigerators. Even if they had anything left in them it'd probably be spoiled by now anyway. I kept walking along, clutching the pan in one hand and my bag slung over the opposite shoulder, before my nose picked up a foul odor.
I would've brushed it off as a spoiled chunk of something, but this smelled way too bad to be anything potentially edible.
It was a pungent, sickly-sweet smell.
As I continued walking, the odor continued to get more and more evident, before I heard something rustling around in one of the other aisles.
I pulled the bag all the way onto my back, now gripping the frying pan with both hands.
Peeking around the corner, I saw what looked like a four-legged crab covered in purple hexagons having a feast on some poor son-of-a-gun's mutilated corpse.
So that must've been the source of the smell.
Before I could study it any further, the alien seemed to notice my presence, and started crawling straight toward me like it was gonna-
CLANG
The sound of the skillet hitting the tile floor rang throughout the building.
All was still quiet, so I assumed nothing else heard me.
I gingerly lifted the pan off the ground, watching the weird crab's legs twitch. Its side had ruptured open, causing a load of sticky, yellow pus and pulsating guts to spill out.
It better be dead, because my hackles couldn't get any higher.
The body it was munching on looked more like a clump of fur and guts, held barely together by a bloodied red vest and blue jeans.
Poor soul. They probably got jumped by a bunch of crabs and ripped apart.
Fuck, that's depressing.
My backpack was getting a bit full by now, so I picked myself up and moved to the last aisle. I didn't want to stay much longer in case the thing's friends decided to jump me.
It was the section of the store that my sister and I would run up and down when we were younger, one where dad would let us pick something so long as we wouldn't tell mom. I rounded the corner, not expecting to see much of anything.
I saw a lone cardboard box, down towards the very end. As I moved closer I picked it up and stared at it.
Strawberry pop-tarts.
A favorite.
Always toasted, and served with a tall glass of milk.
Come get it while it's hot, Eliza.