Chapter 2
Fox counted one-hundred and fifty then stopped. He hung on to the bar by
his right arm. One-hundred and fifty one arm pull ups. Not bad. He switched
to his left arm and counted to one-fifty again. This time, he swung up over
the bar and hung his legs over it, so he was hanging upside down. He
crossed his arms and examined himself in the mirror while the blood rushed
to his head. To his surprise, he didn't look much different upside down
than he did right side up, except for the fact that his hair nearly touched
the ground.
Big Boss is going to be nagging me to cut it again.
Fox hated cutting his hair. He almost never did, until it interfered with
his abilities in combat. He caught sight of his tattoo on his right arm. He
placed his left hand on it. The traditional FOXHOUND symbol, the fox head
grasping the combat knife in its mouth. The sight of that tattoo would send
any military personal into awe or anger. Suddenly Fox heard the mechanical
'ding' of the metal sliding doors that riddled the FOXHOUND compound. A
huge, brawny rookie walked in wearing a muscle tee-shirt and the common
green field pants issued to the bottom of the FOXHOUND squad.
Fox stared at him through the mirror and the rookie stared back. Fox
narrowed his eyes. The rookie could only last a few more seconds before
shaking his head. He set down a black gym bag and sat down at the bench
press. Fox looked at himself again in the mirror. He was an impressive
sight to say the least. His build was incredible, and there wasn't a shred
of hair on his body below his eyebrows, thanks to an experiment FOXHOUND
had made him go through. Originally, the experiment was to see if the serum
would speed up Fox's amazing healing rate, but instead, it killed all the
hair follicles wherever the crème was applied. Not wanting to look
partially smooth, partially hairy, Fox had them remove all his body hair.
Fox flipped down from the bar and landed gracefully. He checked out
the rookie again. He had forty-fives and thirty-fives on the bar. He
appeared to be mildly struggling with it. Fox smiled. Perhaps what he
really needed was a little competition.
Fox walked over to the second bench press and put two forty-fives on
each side of the bar. He sat down and did ten reps, making sure the rookie
caught sight of him. After finishing, he put the bar on its hooks and sat
up. The rookie put the same weight on his bar and sat down. He pushed ten
reps, with some obvious difficulty. When he finished, it was his turn to
sit up and expect more from Fox.
Fox smiled, grabbed two ten pound plates and put one on each side of
the bar. He assumed the position again and pushed eight reps without any
difficulty. He racked the bar and sat up. The rookie had lost his grin. He
picked up two ten pound plates himself and put them on the bar. He did
eight reps, and almost lost it on the last one. He sat up triumphantly, a
huge grin in the middle of his red face.
Fox cracked his knuckles. It was time to finish this guy off. He
pulled the tens off. The rookie smiled even wider, expecting Fox to back
off now. But to his obvious disappointment, Fox picked up two twenty-five
pound plates and put them on the bar. The rookie scoffed, not believing Fox
could do it. Fox lied down on the bench and gripped his hands on the bar.
The thick, ridged metal dug into his callused hands. Fox tightened his grip
even more and focused all his force into his arms, causing his legs to
stick to the floor.
He pulled the bar off the rack and held it above him, parallel to his
chest.
Damn the heat.
He let the bar fall in a controlled motion and let it touch his chest. He
then shot the bar up in a triumphant burst of energy, sweat shot off Fox's
body in every direction. He let the bar fall again, and pushed again, he
did it two more times, and on the last time down, his body told him it was
going to shut down on him. Fox gritted his teeth as the bar touched his
chest. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, letting out a barbaric
yawp.
The heat.
Fox pushed the bar up to the rack and dropped it there. He released his
hands from the bar and sat up. The rookie looked absolutely awed. He picked
up the twenty-fives and put them on the bar. He sat down resolutely,
looking like a lamb going to slaughter. He grabbed the bar and pulled it
over his chest. Instead of going down in a controlled motion however, it
fell down and pinned his chest. The rookie's face turned tomato red and he
let out many grunts of anger and pain. Fox walked over to the rookie's gym
bag and pulled out a white towel. Fox wiped the sweat off his chest and
face with it, then hung it around his shoulders, and then he walked over to
the rookie struggling with the bench.
"And the real lesson here is...,"
The rookie looked up at Fox with pain and humiliation in his eyes.
"...Don't be a showoff."
Fox turned around and walked out of the gym room with the towel and a
smile.
********
Upon arriving at the door to his room, Fox suddenly became aware of a
presence behind his door. Fox froze. He flattened himself against the wall
next to his door. It was unlocked. He knew he locked it on his way out.
There were many people in the world that thought it would be a better place
without him. He just wasn't sure who it was that wanted him dead this time.
Probably Scorpion. Silent Scorpion was another one of FOXHOUND's elite.
Scorpion had been a rival of Fox's ever since Fox made it through the
advanced class.
Tensing his muscles for the sudden work he was going to do, Fox threw
the door open, leaping in preparing for the flying kick he...
"Calm down Fox."
Fox tripped thanks to the familiar voice and fell on his stomach. He lied
there for a few seconds, trying to recover whatever pride he had left.
"Mmf mhehg you Bghs Bff."
"What?"
Fox lifted he head off the floor.
"Nice to see you, Big Boss."
Big Boss smiled.
"The pleasure is all mine Red Fox."
Fox picked himself up and crossed his arms. Big Boss sat in Fox's chair,
fingering a cigar.
"To what do I owe this grand meeting?" Fox asked.
"I just came to congratulate you on you're mission."
"Funny. I almost never got this kind of welcome on all my other missions."
Big Boss smiled again.
"I just merely wanted you're opinion on something."
Fox sat down. Big Boss was a personal friend of Fox's.
"Shoot."
"What do you think would happen if something happened to you?"
Fox tensed. Big Boss continued.
"It has recently come to my attention that we might be in need of some new
recruits. Someone personally suggested that we start training a new...Fox."
"So you are saying..."
"Well, since you are Red Fox, the greatest soldier FOXHOUND has, I thought
I should take you're opinion."
Fox looked down at his knees.
"...I'm not going anywhere, Big Boss."
Big Boss slapped his knee.
"Just what I thought as well! Now, I'm going to close this...Fox
replacement idea for as long as you think I should."
Big Boss stood and put his hand on Fox's shoulder. Fox looked up into his
mentor's eyes.
"I'm here for you Fox. Even after Derek died, I was the one who was there
for you."
At the mention of Derek's name, Fox visibly tightened up. Big Boss squeezed
Fox's shoulder and walked out of Fox's room, the door sliding closed behind
him.
'...This damn heat...'
Fox stood. Suddenly a strong desire to look at the box struck him. He
crouched and placed his hand under his cot. But he hesitated, a lingering
pain grew inside him the closer he got to touching the box...but a desire
to hold some link to his past grew as well. His hand stayed in the same
position for quite a while as Fox's mind wrestled with its choices.
Finally, the hand grasped a small, cardboard box under the bed and pulled
it out.
Fox sat down on his cot and placed the box on his lap. He gently
lifted the first two cardboard flaps...then the last two. Inside were the
only physical links he had to the life he used to live. Perhaps it was Big
Boss's mention of Derek that made Fox want to look inside of the box. He
reached inside and pulled out a desert eagle 44., the gun used by Fox's
hero, friend, brother, father. Fox grasped the heavy handgun for a while,
then set it back in the box.
He reached in again, like he was playing some kind of game to draw
out a prize from a box. This time he pulled out a small piece of paper with
some scribbled handwriting on it. The parchment read:
7:23, The renegades have taken over the north side of the compound.
There isn't much I can do now. I'm taking the kid with me. I'm thinking
about Italy. I long for the familiar sights and sounds. I'm sure we'll be
happy there for a while. I hope to see you soon Louis. Please, stay alive
for the reunion.
-Derek Storm
Fox read the parchment again and again. He finally put it back in the
box as well. Now he pulled out a brochure for a European cruise he had
taken with Derek. He remembered the taste of the sea air, the feel of the
water, the feeling of security he had away from the pain he grew up in. He
put the brochure back.
The next item was a small plastic pouch. Inside the transparent pouch
was a pressed, white rose. Fox knew the story behind it. But he didn't want
to think about it. The pain, though so old, was still so hard. He dropped
the pouch back into the box.
I used to love the heat...because I knew nothing else...
Finally, Fox pulled out a long piece of black cloth. He held it in
both hands. On the interior side of the cloth, was a familiar blood stain.
Fox dropped that as well. Why had he opened that damn box? The pain grew to
near overflowing. He dropped the box and kicked it under the cot. He
slammed both of his fists into the wall. Thank God Fox had no neighbors,
since he left a heroic dent in the wall.
It was time for bed, Fox decided. He grabbed the sheet off his cot
and laid it on the floor. He went to the north wall and turned the lights
off, but something wasn't right.
'I need...the heat...'
He went over to the thermostat. It read seventy-two degrees. He turned it
up to ninety-one degrees. That was more like it. He laid down on the sheet
on the floor. He folded one side over him to make a mock sleeping bag. He
never slept in his cot, or in normal temperature. He never had.
Fox slipped his sweat pants off and threw them on the cot. He
gathered one end of the sheet to his face and placed himself in a fetal
position. The sweat from the heat gathered on his brow. He closed his eyes
and gave in to his nightmares that came every night.
'I need...the heat...'
Bravicimo! It took me awhile, but I finished chapter two! Chapter
three is on it's way, so don't get too impatient. Thanks to SideSwipe, who,
so far, is the only person to review my work. (. You're a true author.
Fox counted one-hundred and fifty then stopped. He hung on to the bar by
his right arm. One-hundred and fifty one arm pull ups. Not bad. He switched
to his left arm and counted to one-fifty again. This time, he swung up over
the bar and hung his legs over it, so he was hanging upside down. He
crossed his arms and examined himself in the mirror while the blood rushed
to his head. To his surprise, he didn't look much different upside down
than he did right side up, except for the fact that his hair nearly touched
the ground.
Big Boss is going to be nagging me to cut it again.
Fox hated cutting his hair. He almost never did, until it interfered with
his abilities in combat. He caught sight of his tattoo on his right arm. He
placed his left hand on it. The traditional FOXHOUND symbol, the fox head
grasping the combat knife in its mouth. The sight of that tattoo would send
any military personal into awe or anger. Suddenly Fox heard the mechanical
'ding' of the metal sliding doors that riddled the FOXHOUND compound. A
huge, brawny rookie walked in wearing a muscle tee-shirt and the common
green field pants issued to the bottom of the FOXHOUND squad.
Fox stared at him through the mirror and the rookie stared back. Fox
narrowed his eyes. The rookie could only last a few more seconds before
shaking his head. He set down a black gym bag and sat down at the bench
press. Fox looked at himself again in the mirror. He was an impressive
sight to say the least. His build was incredible, and there wasn't a shred
of hair on his body below his eyebrows, thanks to an experiment FOXHOUND
had made him go through. Originally, the experiment was to see if the serum
would speed up Fox's amazing healing rate, but instead, it killed all the
hair follicles wherever the crème was applied. Not wanting to look
partially smooth, partially hairy, Fox had them remove all his body hair.
Fox flipped down from the bar and landed gracefully. He checked out
the rookie again. He had forty-fives and thirty-fives on the bar. He
appeared to be mildly struggling with it. Fox smiled. Perhaps what he
really needed was a little competition.
Fox walked over to the second bench press and put two forty-fives on
each side of the bar. He sat down and did ten reps, making sure the rookie
caught sight of him. After finishing, he put the bar on its hooks and sat
up. The rookie put the same weight on his bar and sat down. He pushed ten
reps, with some obvious difficulty. When he finished, it was his turn to
sit up and expect more from Fox.
Fox smiled, grabbed two ten pound plates and put one on each side of
the bar. He assumed the position again and pushed eight reps without any
difficulty. He racked the bar and sat up. The rookie had lost his grin. He
picked up two ten pound plates himself and put them on the bar. He did
eight reps, and almost lost it on the last one. He sat up triumphantly, a
huge grin in the middle of his red face.
Fox cracked his knuckles. It was time to finish this guy off. He
pulled the tens off. The rookie smiled even wider, expecting Fox to back
off now. But to his obvious disappointment, Fox picked up two twenty-five
pound plates and put them on the bar. The rookie scoffed, not believing Fox
could do it. Fox lied down on the bench and gripped his hands on the bar.
The thick, ridged metal dug into his callused hands. Fox tightened his grip
even more and focused all his force into his arms, causing his legs to
stick to the floor.
He pulled the bar off the rack and held it above him, parallel to his
chest.
Damn the heat.
He let the bar fall in a controlled motion and let it touch his chest. He
then shot the bar up in a triumphant burst of energy, sweat shot off Fox's
body in every direction. He let the bar fall again, and pushed again, he
did it two more times, and on the last time down, his body told him it was
going to shut down on him. Fox gritted his teeth as the bar touched his
chest. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, letting out a barbaric
yawp.
The heat.
Fox pushed the bar up to the rack and dropped it there. He released his
hands from the bar and sat up. The rookie looked absolutely awed. He picked
up the twenty-fives and put them on the bar. He sat down resolutely,
looking like a lamb going to slaughter. He grabbed the bar and pulled it
over his chest. Instead of going down in a controlled motion however, it
fell down and pinned his chest. The rookie's face turned tomato red and he
let out many grunts of anger and pain. Fox walked over to the rookie's gym
bag and pulled out a white towel. Fox wiped the sweat off his chest and
face with it, then hung it around his shoulders, and then he walked over to
the rookie struggling with the bench.
"And the real lesson here is...,"
The rookie looked up at Fox with pain and humiliation in his eyes.
"...Don't be a showoff."
Fox turned around and walked out of the gym room with the towel and a
smile.
********
Upon arriving at the door to his room, Fox suddenly became aware of a
presence behind his door. Fox froze. He flattened himself against the wall
next to his door. It was unlocked. He knew he locked it on his way out.
There were many people in the world that thought it would be a better place
without him. He just wasn't sure who it was that wanted him dead this time.
Probably Scorpion. Silent Scorpion was another one of FOXHOUND's elite.
Scorpion had been a rival of Fox's ever since Fox made it through the
advanced class.
Tensing his muscles for the sudden work he was going to do, Fox threw
the door open, leaping in preparing for the flying kick he...
"Calm down Fox."
Fox tripped thanks to the familiar voice and fell on his stomach. He lied
there for a few seconds, trying to recover whatever pride he had left.
"Mmf mhehg you Bghs Bff."
"What?"
Fox lifted he head off the floor.
"Nice to see you, Big Boss."
Big Boss smiled.
"The pleasure is all mine Red Fox."
Fox picked himself up and crossed his arms. Big Boss sat in Fox's chair,
fingering a cigar.
"To what do I owe this grand meeting?" Fox asked.
"I just came to congratulate you on you're mission."
"Funny. I almost never got this kind of welcome on all my other missions."
Big Boss smiled again.
"I just merely wanted you're opinion on something."
Fox sat down. Big Boss was a personal friend of Fox's.
"Shoot."
"What do you think would happen if something happened to you?"
Fox tensed. Big Boss continued.
"It has recently come to my attention that we might be in need of some new
recruits. Someone personally suggested that we start training a new...Fox."
"So you are saying..."
"Well, since you are Red Fox, the greatest soldier FOXHOUND has, I thought
I should take you're opinion."
Fox looked down at his knees.
"...I'm not going anywhere, Big Boss."
Big Boss slapped his knee.
"Just what I thought as well! Now, I'm going to close this...Fox
replacement idea for as long as you think I should."
Big Boss stood and put his hand on Fox's shoulder. Fox looked up into his
mentor's eyes.
"I'm here for you Fox. Even after Derek died, I was the one who was there
for you."
At the mention of Derek's name, Fox visibly tightened up. Big Boss squeezed
Fox's shoulder and walked out of Fox's room, the door sliding closed behind
him.
'...This damn heat...'
Fox stood. Suddenly a strong desire to look at the box struck him. He
crouched and placed his hand under his cot. But he hesitated, a lingering
pain grew inside him the closer he got to touching the box...but a desire
to hold some link to his past grew as well. His hand stayed in the same
position for quite a while as Fox's mind wrestled with its choices.
Finally, the hand grasped a small, cardboard box under the bed and pulled
it out.
Fox sat down on his cot and placed the box on his lap. He gently
lifted the first two cardboard flaps...then the last two. Inside were the
only physical links he had to the life he used to live. Perhaps it was Big
Boss's mention of Derek that made Fox want to look inside of the box. He
reached inside and pulled out a desert eagle 44., the gun used by Fox's
hero, friend, brother, father. Fox grasped the heavy handgun for a while,
then set it back in the box.
He reached in again, like he was playing some kind of game to draw
out a prize from a box. This time he pulled out a small piece of paper with
some scribbled handwriting on it. The parchment read:
7:23, The renegades have taken over the north side of the compound.
There isn't much I can do now. I'm taking the kid with me. I'm thinking
about Italy. I long for the familiar sights and sounds. I'm sure we'll be
happy there for a while. I hope to see you soon Louis. Please, stay alive
for the reunion.
-Derek Storm
Fox read the parchment again and again. He finally put it back in the
box as well. Now he pulled out a brochure for a European cruise he had
taken with Derek. He remembered the taste of the sea air, the feel of the
water, the feeling of security he had away from the pain he grew up in. He
put the brochure back.
The next item was a small plastic pouch. Inside the transparent pouch
was a pressed, white rose. Fox knew the story behind it. But he didn't want
to think about it. The pain, though so old, was still so hard. He dropped
the pouch back into the box.
I used to love the heat...because I knew nothing else...
Finally, Fox pulled out a long piece of black cloth. He held it in
both hands. On the interior side of the cloth, was a familiar blood stain.
Fox dropped that as well. Why had he opened that damn box? The pain grew to
near overflowing. He dropped the box and kicked it under the cot. He
slammed both of his fists into the wall. Thank God Fox had no neighbors,
since he left a heroic dent in the wall.
It was time for bed, Fox decided. He grabbed the sheet off his cot
and laid it on the floor. He went to the north wall and turned the lights
off, but something wasn't right.
'I need...the heat...'
He went over to the thermostat. It read seventy-two degrees. He turned it
up to ninety-one degrees. That was more like it. He laid down on the sheet
on the floor. He folded one side over him to make a mock sleeping bag. He
never slept in his cot, or in normal temperature. He never had.
Fox slipped his sweat pants off and threw them on the cot. He
gathered one end of the sheet to his face and placed himself in a fetal
position. The sweat from the heat gathered on his brow. He closed his eyes
and gave in to his nightmares that came every night.
'I need...the heat...'
Bravicimo! It took me awhile, but I finished chapter two! Chapter
three is on it's way, so don't get too impatient. Thanks to SideSwipe, who,
so far, is the only person to review my work. (. You're a true author.
