Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
Chapter 2 - Ideals
Fumo doesn't own Star Fox 64 and makes no claim to it, but all characters and devise of his sole creation are the property of Fumo and Fumo alone:

Note: This has been maybe my best story so far, I've gotten so many nice comments and reviews from people, so I just want to say thank you.
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Leon yanked back on the stick hard, pressing it almost all the way back between his legs. As a result, the view outside Leon's cockpit changed dramatically, the pleasant view of escaping snowy fields and frosted over pine trees, with snow capped mountains, rushed downward and was replaced by the eternal blue sky of Fortuna. The view continued to rush over until Leon could see the green and white scenery again, this time above him.

The stress put on him by the force was easily ignored, he'd had it worse, and you eventually get use to it.

In the distance, flying below the inverted landscape, a distant sharp-angled craft was gaining on him, and soon the ship was in view, barreling towards him. It was a simple Cornarian Defense Fighter, more commonly known as a Sprig, the standard line fighter of the Cornarian Defense Forces, made by the nationalized company National Cornarian Manufacturers. Simple nose cone and swept wing design were it's trademark, drenched in a light red paint job.

It flew straight at Leon's own Sprig fighter, painted green to contrast the other's red, it's one laser cannon was firing a green lance a second into Leon's vicinity.

Leon smirked, and jerked the stick to the side, his fighter did a roll, turning right side up again, the green lasers arcing past his cockpit and wings, singeing the air inches beside him.

In a split second the two fighters blazed past each other, Leon moving slightly upwards to make sure the two didn't crashed. Quickly, Leon jerked back on his stick again. The scenery shifted once again upward. Leon, however, didn't wait this time, and corrected his path in mid flip.

"Shit!" someone yelled over the radio into Leon's ears.

Leon's unlucky opponent must have seen what Leon was attempting to do, which was going to lead to his death. Leon finished his arc over, and saw the red Sprig taking a long sweeping turn back at Leon to the right. It appeared the red Sprig was trying to turn to face Leon once again, but Leon was much faster in his turn, and now caught the red Sprig in his sights as it exposed it's top to him.

Leon chuckled over his com, "Pathetic..."

Leon lightly tapped the trigger on his stick once, then twice. In response, the base of Leon's ship rumbled and blasted out two streams of green super heat. The blast compensated for the red Sprig's speed no problem thanks to Leon's arc to the side. The first laser struck true, hitting the tip of the black shielded cockpit, the second hit as well, splashing against the shielded area behind the cockpit where the vital engine parts were held behind a fancy red covering. The cockpit could do little to stop the brilliant death, the black plastic instantly melted, letting the laser pass inside the cockpit, lighting up the electrical equipment and body inside, causing the small spaces instant combustion and it's fiery explosion, blasting out the rest of the plastic and the sides of the craft. At the same time the other laser sliced through the rear compartment, burning and igniting the engine within, the combustion ceased and the exploding began, shooting flames in random directions as they ripped out of the pale red skin. The end result was the combining of eruptions into one luminous sphere of cascading red and orange hues. The Sprig was enveloped in this ball and disappeared completely from view, but as the sphere diluted into black smoke, Leon could see charred and fractured pieces of the fighter careening forward with the same momentum the plane had had only a few seconds before, flailing about like Frisbees and falling harmlessly to the forest floor below.

Leon chuckled to himself, there was never anything so final as a big freaking explosion, this game was over. Leon let go of his stick and stretched his fingers.

The transparent cockpit scene of smoking sky and stoic pines became slightly more opaque, as a number of large shadowed words appeared floating in the open air in front of Leon.

You Win, was the message, proceeded by a list of stats outlining Leon's score, a soaring number, compared to 5 others which were dwarfed in inspection.

Leon smiled to himself, but felt a little bit empty inside. A victory was so much more satisfying when it actually meant something. Video games were fun, but lacking in any real point.

A second set of the words appeared, stating that player 3, Leon, had placed in the top ten of the 10 all time highest scores. Leon typed his name simply as Leon and thumbed the enter button. Immediately, the list of the top ten appeared, showing Leon's bright score as first, as well as spots 2 through 8 being scores of Leon as well, the 9th being far less then the 8th, secured by a Dan the Executioner, and the 10th by a Smokin' Joey Jamieson.

Leon was untouchable, these street kids downing their weekly allowance at the arcades could never hope to raise to Leon's heights, but would that be the only legacy Leon would leave behind?

Leon quickly flicked the latch on the side of the cockpit, prompting the kissing sound of a sealed lip being popped open, followed by the brisk charge of cold air rushing in to fill the smaller space. Leon pushed the top of the cockpit up stiffly, and the plastic cover flipped over to reveal an environment very dissimilar to the one he'd just witnessed. Flashing ceiling lights replaced the clear blue sky, the snowy landscape was replaced by greasy gray floor, and the frosted over trees were now plucky kids with money to spend and towering arcade consoles. Even the Sprig was really a pod with endless wires leaking out and a replica cockpit cover.

Leon put on his victory face, and pulled himself out of the pod, hopping to the floor. He reached in quickly and grabbed his trademark white trench coat, which he'd taken off to maneuver better. Putting it on to shield himself from the cold, he smoothed out the wrinkles as he buttoned it and attached the belt and walked smoothly around the pod.

Next to Leon's pod was another one, exactly like his. In fact, there were six in total all positioned around a central tower. Atop the tower were two video screens, one listed stats of the various happenings of Leon's recent game, the other showed scenes of some impressive moves during the game, nearly all were Leon's impressive moves, and most were of Leon's Sprig taking another ship out. Above it in stylized letters was the title of the game, Rival Skies III.

Leon approached a group of youth, late high schoolers, circled around each other by the open-air entrance of the arcade. Each held long frowns on their differing faces, commenting quietly to each other. Leon's victims they were, all five scruffy little upstarts met a humbling defeat at the claws of Leon. They quieted as they spotted Leon's venomous smile.

Leon opened his hands gingerly showing himself off, "Well boys, that's life, six go up, and six come down, but only one under their own power."

The group all groaned and looked down.

Leon turned to point up at the television screen showing the scores with the big "Winner: Leon!!!" on it.

"Per your requests gentlemen, I defeated you all, in less then 10 minutes, and my hit percentage is a hundred percent. Now..." Leon raised a palm to the crowd, "Pay your debts."

The group of assorted adolescent creatures shuffled around in their shoes for a moment. Their seeming leader however, a robin, just frowned at Leon.

"Hey man," the robin spoke in a halfway confident voice, "There's a war going on now, we can't go spending our money on crap."

Leon frowned at the young radical, "Oh, I see, looking to spend your money on practical things because of the war. Well, consider this your practical flying lesson, some combat training from a graduate."

A pig looked up with wide eyes, "You're a graduate from the Institute? A real fighter pilot?!"

Leon smiled and nodded, "Uh huh."

A white house cat turned to speak into the robin's ear, "No wonder we got our ass kicked..."

The robin looked on grimly, "You hustled us."

Leon chuckled, a presumptuous lad this robin was, "I didn't hustle you, kid. I made a gentleman's bet, which was extremely in your favor. I over came the odds. Now pay up, twenty credits each."

The robin growled as he shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out a few credit bills.

"Tico, man..." the cat appealed to the robin.

"Shut up!" Tico the robin reprimanded, shoving the wade of cash into Leon's up stretched hand, "Just pay him!"

Reluctantly the other youngsters dug through their pockets to try and find the amount due. One by one they coughed it up and plopped it into the pile on Leon's hand, making chance comments.

"Man, there goes my weed money..." A sparrow commented to the cat.

"If I wanted to get screwed and lose twenty bucks I could have went to that whore down on 12th street again..." the pig joked in a morbid sense of humor.

Having been alleviated off their poorly considered debt, the group moved own with grumbles and groans as Leon watched them, smiling. Leon selected a ten credit bill and shoved it in front of the pig before he left.

"Since you've been such good sports, have a couple games on me, prepare for the war..." Leon said.

The pig, obviously not one to pass up money for a useless thing like dignity, took it quickly and moved on with his pack of losers.

This was pretty much Leon's life now, swindling easy money out of high schoolers at Rival Skies. Leon was known now as the raider of arcades, hitting almost every arcade on the Boardwalk in Snowfall, the biggest city on Fortuna, regularly. He would gather a crowd of thick-pocketed little hot shots, challenge the most arrogant to virtual battles, and clean up the cash. There wasn't a fighter video game that didn't have him in the highest score on the Boardwalk. It had kept him paying the rent, but it totally demeaned his life up until then.

Four years at the most prestigious institute of aviation, and it amounted up to him hustling kids all day.

Leon looked down at his palm full of sweaty, crumpled money, his life's work. Where once the soul of a soldier was his goal, now he used the duel, the sacred competition of worthy and respected opponents, to make pocket change.

"A good haul?" Leon heard a voice call from behind him.

A lifetime's worth of recognized voices flooded through Leon's head, but this one stuck out no problem, having so dominated all the others. Leon turned and upon receiving confirmation, smiled brightly.

Outside the arcade's open air gate to the many miles of Boardwalk stood a wolf with an eye patch standing slouched and hands stuffed into a worn dark gray vest, smiling calmly.

"For today, yes." Leon answered, "What up, Wolf?"

Wolf smiled more and strolled over extending his hand. Leon took it and gripped it firmly like a brother would.

"What's up is I'm cold. Couldn't you find a warmer place to hide out than Fortuna?" Wolf chuckled.

"For hiding out, there's no better place then Fortuna. And I'm not hiding."

"Uh huh, sure, and you're fighting little kids for their lunch money for what reason?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to get along in a unfair world."

Wolf stroked his chin, "Yeah... being dealt a bum card in life'll do that to you..."

"Indeed, so what brings you to my humble hunting grounds?"

Wolf chuckled, "Unlike you, old buddy, I was dealt a lucky card recently."

Leon's smile grew slightly more devilish, "Really, so I'll assume you're here to share the wealth with your old school chum."

Wolf's smile became more devilish as well, "Oh yeah, this is quiet a large amount of wealth that will require a soldier to help me spend it."

"Splendid, so, what do you say I treat you to a cup of coffee, I recently came into a decent amount of pocket change."

"Lead the way."

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Leon used his spoon to stir the sugar into his bleak dark coffee, tapped it on the side of the cup and placed it on the table. Lifting it up to his face he breathed deep the rich ground coffee smell, fresh and hot in his nostrils. He poured it slightly between his lips and savored the blend.

"Enjoying yourself, Leon?" the wolf across from him asked.

Leon lowered his cup and smiled at him, "Sip every drop like it was your last."

Wolf leaned back in his chair in the little coffee shop they'd come to on the Boardwalk, smiling at Leon, "Yeah, that's the way you think, alright."

"It comes from years of nearly getting killed."

Wolf sipped his own cup of coffee and cream, "Well, that's one way of going at it. For me, everything seems less interesting. While for you, this coffee is something to be cherished about life, for me, it's just coffee."

"And why is that?" Leon asked smiling.

"Well, for some reason these days, I'm losing touch with why I do anything."

"That's distressing."

"Yeah, so I'm asking myself why do I go on."

"So, why do you go on?"

Wolf took another sip, "Well, let's see, I've got student loans to pay off."

"That's important, but that's hard to parley into a reason to live." Leon said leaning on the table.

"I'm not so sunk that I want to die."

"So, what do you want?"

"Ugh, I'm trying to consider revenge, but that's a little cliché. But, I'm just too unmotivated to even kill myself."

"Well, you know that I certainly don't have that problem."

Wolf chuckled, "Oh yeah, how well do I know Leon Powalski's reason to keep fighting. You get your kicks from duels!"

"It's more the kicks, it's my religion."

"Right, you believe that the culmination of a soldier's career is the one-on-one fair confrontation, it's your crazy philosophy."

"It's the way I live my life Wolf. I grew up a pit fighter, I know what it's like to go round for round with a matched opponent, and theirs nothing like it. Then I became a pilot, and I truly found out what a duel really meant. You either win or lose, live or die, it's the ultimate test, one I plan to always pass. The soldier is nothing without this chance, to show your mettle as a living breathing creature, and it is the right of every soldier to be able to put his life on the line in head-to-head combat. They're not suppose to deny you that!"

"But they did, didn't they?" Wolf interjected.

"Yes, they did. What they don't understand is I didn't kill anybody, I battled and elevated them. They fought me like real men and won respect in their defeats. They chose to put their own existence on the line for honor, and they gained it in his death. Yet they would rather discharge one of their best flyers just because he chose to respect those people in such a way."

Wolf leaned back and closed his eye. He made a low groan like he was calling up deep mental facets to watch on his mind's movie screen, "The life story of one Leon Powalski..." Wolf mumbled.

Leon sat back as well and took another cherished sip, content to listen for the moment.

"Born in Deep Seed, Katina, raised on the streets with only his mother to take care of him, at age fourteen his mother died, turned to fight clubs for emotional support. An unusual therapy..."

"It's really the best therapy." Leon answered.

"Oh, I know." Wolf continued, "Lived with aunt and uncle after that, became a regular piloting prodigy from playing Rival Skies II: Free Rain, made quite a pretty penny and a name for himself off of dog fights."

"One of the few ways for undereducated street kids to get recognition."

"It's been good to us, it got us freaking scholarships, damnit."

"Damn straight."

"So, the young Leon entered Rival Skies tournaments, won all of them, and made the militaries turn their heads, and at eighteen he got a scholarship to the super prestigious Cornarian Institute of Aeronautics..."

Leon was just listening now, clutching his cup of coffee.

"Where he learned to be all he could be, and met a strapping young lad by the name of Wolf. Anyway, graduation came and he was at the top of his class, and given the rank of Ensign and the command of an air lance of his own little Sprigs in the 5th CDF Fighter Wing." Wolf's gaze rose slowly to stare at Leon solemnly, "And he was good, a very good pilot and a good commander."

Leon lowered his eyes to his coffee.

"He was a great soldier, a credit to the profession. Yet, maybe he was a little too idealistic. You see, Leon was very much a man of honor, and when his honor was tested, he required some recompense. There were many a mercenary unit stationed at his base, many were rowdy, unruly jackasses, like a strapping young lad named Wolf. Anyway, these mercenaries liked to fight more then anything, and Leon was happy to indulge. So Leon was willing to fight these loud noisy fellows anytime they wished to try his honor, after a while, they were running out of mercenaries."

Leon sighed quietly as he relived his life in his own mind, "Yep..."

"Needless to say, the higher ups were angry that nearly half of their mercenary corps was getting blown up before leaving the planet. Leon gets called to a meeting with his superiors, the officers come down on him hard, Leon tries to explain himself and his philosophy, the discussion gets heated and... WHAM! The wing commander cracks Leon across the face."

Leon frowned.

"Leon keeps his cool, but... WHAM! The wing commander hits him a second time! Leon couldn't take it anymore and... WHAM! Just one small smack and the wing commander goes down with a broken eyebrow, what a pussy. After that it's all down hill, Leon gets put in the brig, he was facing charges all around, they were going to throw the book at him, 7 years hard labor at a Venom penal colony. Then, some strange stuff happened, a renowned mercenary under CDF employ shows up, who just happened to be a good friend of another mercenary, downed by Leon. This mercenary is very important, and used to getting her way, and when she finds out her buddy is dead, she demands a duel with the killer. The CDF tries to explain that Leon is going to jail, but the mercenary won't have it, she says if she doesn't get her match, she'll break her contract with the CDF and go freelance. The CDF doesn't want to lose her, so they reluctantly let it come to pass, but then, oh my gosh, here comes another wrench in the gears, Leon won't fight. Says he's not going to sacrifice his honor so that the CDF can save face. So the CDF says if he competes, they'll spare Leon the jail time, so he agrees. Fight day comes, tension is high, forces are going against each other, army versus mercenaries, honor versus order, revenge versus a way out. Leon and the mercenary go at it, it's a heated battle, and the end result... the mercenary dies! Nobody expected that! Everyone figured the mercenary would kill Leon solving everybody's problems, but wouldn't you know it, Leon was better after all. Now did the CDF have egg on it's face, you bet, they lost the mercenary anyway, and were still left with their problem case. Well, held to their word, they forgo jail time, and the strangest most un-democratic trial of the century ended. Leon got a court marshal and a dishonorable discharge for striking a superior officer or something, I think no one really knew by then. His soldier's pride was downed in one fell swoop... it's a disparaging story..."

"It's a damn book of the week..." Leon said as he took another small sip.

Wolf sighed, "Leon..." then he stopped as if he was thinking.

"What?"

"It... it really pisses me off to see you like this."

Leon frowned, "Oh, like your doing so great, you don't have a reason to live, remember."

"True, but what I'm saying is, you need to be back in a cockpit."

"I know that."

"Leon, I can give that and more. This job I got, I can give you the chance to be a real soldier, I can give you the chance to duel until your thumbs fall off, I can assure no one is going to get in your way, you'll never have to worry about money again, you just have to follow my orders." Wolf said with newfound excitement.

Leon looked up into Wolf's eye, surprised by the sudden enthusiasm, "Wolf... what job is this exactly?"

Wolf leaned back, his smile sank and he spoke very quietly, "I've recently taken a position with the Venomese Revolutionary Militia..."

Leon's eyes went wide as he heard the name, he fought to control his surprise.

"They made me commander of a super elite squadron, special privileges, state of the art equipment, the works, we're like the Anti-Star Fox. Now what I need is you to join me in this squadron.

Leon frowned, "Me? Join the Revolutionary Militia?"

Wolf nodded as he took a swig of his coffee.

"You must not know me very well," Leon said with a frown, "If you did, you'd know that I would never debase myself so much to join Andross. That psychopath doesn't deserve the grace of my presence." Leon adjusted his tone, seeing that some other patrons of the coffee shop were perking their ears to hear his conversation, "I may be at odds with the Cornarian Defense Force, which means almost certain death to my career, but I will never be so destitute as to sign up with Andross's cronies."

Wolf's eye had been averted halfway through Leon's rant, focused on the mug of coffee in his hand, "Yeah, well... It's not like I'm a fan of Andross's either, but..." Wolf looked up now, his eye taking over the glow of purpose, "This is a little bit different from serving or not serving Andross. Our position within the Militia is such, that we can better serve ourselves."

Leon lifted a hairless eyebrow in confusion, Wolf was trying to get at something.

Wolf smiled slightly, "Leon, you believe so strongly in your soldier's principle, but what are you doing about it now? You're sitting around sulking, stealing money from school kids, what kind of soldier's life is that? It's pathetic really..."

Leon averted his eyes and frowned.

"But if you come with me, I can let you be a soldier again. You'll be in a position to pursue your ideals all you want. This will give you a chance to fly again, and not just in a video game."

Leon found himself mumbling in agreement. He now had a chose to make, weither to stay loyal to a military that abandoned him, or finally return to the path of a true soldier but in a way he couldn't agree with.

"I can't give you any of the idealistic crap they gave me when I joined, because I don't believe in it, but I can tell you this, this is only a method to gain what you need. It can put you back on the top, Leon, make you famous again, and show everyone what a soldier is really capable of."

The choice seemed a lot simpler now, to be a soldier transcended what side you were on.

Leon chuckled to himself, "Yeah... that sounds pretty good, Wolf..."

Wolf smiled and nodded, "It is."

"Well... far be it from me to turn down a sweet deal, count me in."

Wolf's smile grew, "I knew I could count on you. Let's get out of here shall we."

Wolf got up from his seat and stretched his arms, Leon got up as well, pulled a ten credit bill from his pocket and left it on the table, not caring for the change or interested in calculating the 15% tip.

The two walked slowly to the door, where upon opening it, they were greeted with the cold rush of Fortuna's frigid airs. The wind bit across Leon's scaly green forehead and stabbed at his bulbous eyes making his blood that much colder, in less then a second his reptilian body adapted to the cold, but he clutched his trench coat closer anyway as he stepped outside behind Wolf.

A light snow was falling now, filtering down slowly through the empty skylight of the Boardwalk, Leon never understood why Fortunan architecture chose to let snow in. It would make sense that in a really cold place, the inhabitants would want to get away from the cold, but whatever.

They walked a few steps before Leon's walking cycle slowed back down to a halt, "So what's yours?"

Wolf stopped in place and turned to look back at Leon, "What?"

"What's your reason?"

"My reason for what?"

"You said that joining your squadron was only a method to get what you what. So what do you want? What's you reason for joining?"

Wolf lowered his eye, obviously thinking or trying to remember, "Well..."

"I know why..." Leon said smiling.

Wolf lifted his eye to meet Leon's smiling face, "Then can you enlighten me, because I don't know myself."

"I think you do, you said it before. You want to be the Anti-Fox McCloud."

Wolf frowned.

"I understand it. Back in the day, you strived to be what Fox wasn't, you wanted to be the responsible one, the dedicated one, the one to make people proud, weither they were peers or high ranking military officials, but unlike Fox, you never got over James McCloud's death. Where Fox became stronger with the will to fill his father's shoes, you let it really effect you, let it defeat you."

Wolf shoved his hands in his vest pockets and stared at Leon with a stoic glare, "What's your point?"

Leon tilted his head, a certain personal trait of his that he got when he was being arrogant, "You know I never understood your own personal relationship with James McCloud, why you let that name effect you so much... but I don't expect you to understand my soldier's quest. So whatever it means, I'm still down with you."

"Well, thank you very much," Wolf said with a sarcastically smooth warble, "But I'm still searching for a point."

"Sorry, back to my rant. This is your second chance isn't it. To be the kind of guy James McCloud was, a hero."

Wolf's pupil shrank as he looked down, obviously contemplating what Leon said.

"You said revenge, but Fox never did anything to you. You want revenge on Fox for James McCloud."

"Is it so obvious. I don't like Fox, you know that, and I don't think he's doing a very good job with James's empire. What do you want from me?"

Leon chuckled, "I only want your best, and I know I'm gonna get it now. My commitment makes me better, your vision will make you better."

Leon saw a low, devious smile form on Wolf's lips.

"After you had that falling out with the military after graduation, I was only seeing depressed Wolf, no purpose and no view, and albeit, he was a damn good fighter, but if you can tap that animosity and that sense of mission we're talking about here, then there's nothing I'm not gonna see you do."

Wolf's teeth glared, white and sharp, "I like the noise you make, Leon."

Leon glared his teeth in a smile as well, "Yeah, is there nothing those school counselors don't know. Let's get out of the cold already, old friend."

-------

Wolf took a moment to gather his surroundings; the assemblage of run down shops, the apartment ghettos towering over him, quiet streets with silent cars parked on them. An old gray coyote was hobbling down the sidewalk opposite him with cane and grocery bag in hand, and a rather slovenly looking pit bull was working disinterestedly at restocking a display of peaches.

The smell of oil and smoke from the National Cornarian Manufacturers' factory several blocks away in Cornaria City's Industrial Sector, mixed with the meaty musky smell of spiced jerky cooking on open spigots up the hill at the open market, giving the whole area a gritty, yet tasty aroma, giving the Canine section of the city it's name, Smoky Hills. The smell clogged Wolf's nose at first, but it only took a moment for him to remember and relish the savory fragrance of the dirty meat smell of his old home.

Smoky Hills was quiet today, being a Sunday most folks we at the big church in Hazel Circle, and after that head to the open market at Harbinger Street for a savory Sunday afternoon meal. There most likely wouldn't be too many people he knew out today, which was for the better, he didn't come back for a social call, he had a purpose, and he didn't need too many people seeing him.

Turning away from the street, he looked upon the property he'd stopped in front of. A long plot of nearly barren dirt and grass with plenty of tire tracks that dug it up was in the yard, as well as a pile of tires near the front. There were a few automobiles, old ones, parked in a neat row along the side, all of them with parts missing like doors and lights and windshields, except for one sleek blue one that had a "For Sale" sign in the window. Near the rear was a collection buildings, a small garage with the doors wide open, and another longer office behind that, peeking out from the side. Just like he remembered it.

Wolf placed his hands on the chain link fence door and pushed open. He then strode confidently to the garage in the back. Inside was a simple setting; tools hanging on a long rack along the back, the larger tools spread carelessly across the floor, a black sedan was lying pathetically on a jack, missing wheels and a back window. Under the hood, a certain figure was working intently, tinkering with some screw with the merry sound of a socket wrench.

A pair of reddish brown furred arms, most of it covered in thick black grease, moved in and out of the engine. Strong and muscular, but still feminine, slim and sexy, that lead up to smooth shoulders, from which a dirty white shirt hung loosely down her even and sleek back, stopping just above the pant line, to show a healthy portion of her well toned stomach. She wore baggy pants but as she leaned to get inside the car hood, they coated and hugged the back of her legs, showing off those muscular beauties. A long shaggy tale protruded from below the small of her back and swished back and forth like a palm tree in a breeze.

The women worked on in her engine, oblivious of Wolf's looming presence a few meters away. Wolf slowly lifted his right hand, and snapped his fingers with a clean, crisp sound.

Slowly, a head rose from under the hood. Long floppy ears appeared first, coated with rich reddish brown hair dangling about them in Cocker Spaniel fashion, next came the subtle slope of the forehead to the snout, and finally Wolf could see one calm blue iris and ebony sheen black pupil.

Her eyelids rose as she saw him standing there, then slowly sank back to normal level. She leaned up and out to full height, revealing the whole womanly beauty of her figure.

A smile curled on Wolf's lips, "Hello, LeRoxy, you look busy."

A smile curled onto the female Spaniel's lips as well. She selected a dirty cloth on a stool near the tool stand and began to wipe her grease stained paws on it, "Hello, Wolstof..."

Wolf nearly snorted in surprise and amusement. He bared his grin carelessly and folded his arms, "Oh, is that how it's gonna be, Magdalene?"

She merely smiled in his direction while gazing upon him with those simple blue eyes, "Oh, I'm sorry, Wolf, but you know I still think your real name is cuter."

"Yeah, that's what the kids thought in elementary school, but they all ended up with black eyes."

"You never seemed to mind when I called you Wolstof."

"Well, you're one of the few people who can make it sound good, Maggie."

Magdalene LeRoxy, better known as Maggie, chuckled a little as she gave up the futility of wiping off engine grease with a dry cloth, instead just hanging her thumbs off the pockets of her ragged dark green pants.

"Been awhile..." Maggie said, her smile faltering a little.

Wolf's smile fell a little as well and he shrugged, "Hasn't been that long..."

"A few months..."

"Yeah, well... I've been kinda busy."

"I would assume so," Maggie's smile went up again, "You're always busy."

"This time I really am." Wolf said smiling again and putting his hands in his vest pockets.

"Really?" Maggie inquired sounding interested.

"Something big."

"How big?"

"I'll never have to worry about money again."

Maggie whistled in an impressed tone, "That's pretty big."

"Yeah, but that's not why I took this job."

"Well, why'd you take it?"

Wolf averted his gaze a bit as he thought about it, "Well... you know how everybody has there own personal demons."

"Umm... yeah, I guess."

"Let's just say, this job should help me exorcize some of those inner demons."

"Uh, I don't follow."

Wolf's gaze was still averted to the stark yellow grass he was standing on, "This job isn't about the money this time, this time it's personal..."

Wolf looked back up into Maggie's eyes, those eyes that expressed so simply, but so well what she saw. Now it was confusion, yet you could see her worry as well, worry for Wolf and his well-being. She understood him, better then he understood himself, but that's usually the case with old friends.

As is also the case with old friends, their unified history goes way back. They'd shared the good times, the bad times, the hopelessness and the faith, the challenges and regret, the fun and the adventure, and the crippling traumas of each other. It was just one of those bonds that make you family.

Wolf had known Maggie since he was a child, living the ghetto child life in "scenic" Smoky Hills. Life was simpler then, or maybe Wolf just didn't care too much, either way, life doesn't go on in the ghetto, it just passes by, and since the beginning Wolf passed it with Maggie. They had the simple play date friendship as youngsters, growing up in the same apartment building on Opal Avenue. It advanced into the love/hate, girls are icky phase of elementary school, and, as usual, when girls stopped being icky, their unit became stronger.

Regardless of phases, they were always there for each other, they fought together, rocked together, and chilled together. Wolf was there when Maggie's older brother was arrested and convicted of grand theft auto. Maggie was there when Wolf's mother died when he was 8. Wolf was there when they were in the 8th grade and that jerk from 12th tried to take advantage of Maggie, Wolf got 6 stitches on his chin and a sprained wrist, but that senior was never going to mess with him or Maggie again. Maggie was there when Wolf's little sister ran away at age 13, pregnant with some rich kid from Uptown's baby. They both took the spills for each other in their teens when Wolf formed his immature little street gang, the Pointers, when they would go at it with the street gangs from Hello Park, the Feline section of Cornaria City.

Through hell and hairballs, their relationship remained the usefulness of associating with each other, and although he never considered her his sister, there was no one at all that he trusted more. Family didn't have to have a name.

Then came adulthood, quick and painful like a shot to the jaw, the pain lingered for a little bit, but it went away, and Wolf had to leave. Wolf moved on from Smoky Hills, leaving Maggie behind. Wolf was on his own path, and Maggie was on hers. Wolf's lead him away, while Maggie's stayed in the old neighborhood. Wolf became one of those mercenaries, the high flyers, tough protectors of the skies, fantasies for those 2nd graders playing with sticks as machine guns and bikes as space fighters, Maggie became the mechanic.

However, like old friendships usually go, it doesn't end when you leave, the things that he missed the most about home where obviously the ones that brought him back. It was of necessity of course, Wolf needed a mechanic for various projects, and he said Maggie was the only mechanic he could trust. That was a good excuse, and Maggie took the job for that reason, outwardly, but they both knew it was a deeper reason they wanted to be around each other again. Family shouldn't need a reason.

Wolf made a goofy apologetic smile for his lack of a better explanation. Maggie chuckled at that.

"So, what brings you to Cornaria then?" Maggie asked.

Wolf averted his eyes again, "Maggie, I'm gonna level with you, cause that's what we do. I got a job offer by the Venomese. They're gonna give me my own squadron, all the equipment I need, special privileges, the works, hell, they even made me a one star general," Wolf accentuated that last one by showing off the stars he had on either side of his vest collar.
"And of course, I'm now one of them. That's my great job, I'm one of those monkey-worshipers. I'm a regular defector, but hey, I'm a mercenary, I go where the better deal is, right."

Maggie looked at him with those simple blues eyes, absorbing this new intense information, not passing judgment just yet.

"So, here's the thing, Maggie. I need a technician... and you're the only mechanic I've ever trusted when I needed work on a ship. I can give you 20,000 credit's a month, if you'll come and work for me... for the enemy... How about it?"

Maggie just stared at him for a moment, the weight of his words were hard to completely understand at first, requiring some internal deciphering.

Maggie's eyes took a more devious look as she leaned her head to the said, "Have you visited your dad?"

Wolf's eyes flowed a bit fast at the mention, his posture slackened and he spoke in a grimmer tone, "No."

"Are you going to?"

"No."

"You aren't curious at all how he's doing?"

Wolf averted his eye to the side, "I couldn't care less."

"Not at all?"

"What do you think..."

As could easily be identified by speaking with Wolf over the long term, there were certain things he preferred to step over in conversation, like the current losing streak of the Cornaria City Commandos soccer team, politics, and his less then perfect nuclear family; his mother who over-dosed on heroine and died in a bar, his runaway little pregnant sister, who he hadn't seen since he was 15, and his father, Luke O'Donnell.

It was no wonder, considering the last time he saw his dear old dad was when he was 17 and he broke the man's jaw. It was the first and last time he ever stood up to his father, after which Wolf had to flee his childhood home and become an adult. His house was no longer a place he could stay.

For Wolf these days, the term father was a loose title. A father was someone who you could depend on and be like, an example for you to become. What Luke O'Donnell was, was the tool that was part of Wolf's original conception, that was basically it, as well as the guy that he lived with and ate his food sometimes. Nine years of abuse, steady drinking, and skanky girlfriends, will ruin the image of a father for a kid. So, when that night finally came, when Wolf had been hit one too many times, he stood and hit him like a grown man, then ran like a coward. In terms of someone to look up to, James McCloud was his real father.

"He's still there you know..." Maggie urged.

"Can we drop this Maggie, I didn't come here to talk about my father."

"Fine, but what about the guys, the old Pointers, are you gonna see them?"

"No..."

"So... you only came here to see me."

Wolf gave a careless smile and shrugged, "Yeah..."

Maggie looked down for a moment and nodded to herself, obviously thinking about something, "Well... I think the Venomese Revolutionary Militia has better mechanics then me, you can learn to trust them."

Wolf shrugged, "It's not just that..."

"Then what is it?" Maggie inquired, leaning her frame against the car's door.

"Well... you know..."

"Wolf..." Maggie's tone was slightly more urgent this time. Wolf looked into her simple eyes again, now expressing a slight slit of neediness, wanting to see something more personally from Wolf, wishing to receive the slightest acknowledgment from the object of her gaze. It was a look that passed between the two every once in a while, a look Wolf knew well, yet could not understand at all. He could not discern it's meaning, nor comprehend a way to respond. However, it was all over in a moment, and it may have seemed like nothing passed at all except a different shading on her simple blue eyes, yet it left you feeling something.

"I have to know... do you just want me to come with you because you need a mechanic... or... do you want me to come, because you need... something more... from me?"

Wolf blinked his eye, and when he opened it again, it was pasted on a random power tool laying on the floor, "Well, I don't exactly trust everyone I'm working with... so, I need an... ally."

"An ally?" Maggie clarified.

"Yeah..."

Maggie made a disappointed "Oh." sound.

Wolf looked up at her, now her head was lowered, starring at something random on the floor, her eye lids at half mast, and her lips in an indifferent frown.

"Look, Wolf... I have a lot to do around here still... fixing up these old clunkers and stuff..."

Wolf frowned rapidly as he heard her statement. He then noticed a black smudge of grease on Maggie's cheek right below her eye. Looking around, Wolf spotted a clean looking cloth sitting daintily on the trunk of the broken down car. Grabbing it with one hand he drew closer to Maggie. He took her chin gently in his hand, holding along her smooth jaw line, and lifted her head up until their eyes met again.

"You got something there."

Wolf lifted up the cloth and tenderly rubbed the black spot on her cheek. As he smoothed away the soot, Wolf felt Maggie's head in his hands, it rested there, it wasn't held down, it nestled in his palm being supported by his strong hand. She was at peace in his grasp, not fidgety or awkward. His touch was like a soothing balm to her.

"Maggie..." Wolf started in a softer tone, "I really do need you... as a friend, to help me out here, you're the only one I can turn to..."

Maggie's simple eyes were answer enough, you could see them smiling, and soon enough her lips followed suit, "Yeah, ok..."

Wolf smiled too, he removed the cloth and then realized that he just rubbed the soot deeper into her fur, "Whoops, just made it worse."
Peace kids...