Act, or Skit I
Now, Gentlemen, to Business!
--------------------------------------------------
"Gyroscopic Navigation?"
"Check- Fully Calibrated."
"G-Diffuser?"
"Check- Activated and Stable Output."
"Go Faster Pins?"
"Clamped tightly, and still looking sharp."
"Fuzzy Dice?"
"Securely draped across Rear-View Mirror"
"Plastic Statue of Jesus?"
"Check- Jesus is on the dash, and He's still praying."
"Fish Finder?"
"Check- and we have a group of perch just south of us."
For two hours, Fox and Peppy had been running a diagnostic check on the Arwing of the former, and just as they had suspected, nothing had broken from the day before. As a matter of fact, not much ever really changed much on the Great Fox after Fox had scampered back on after his tom-foolery on Dinosaur Planet. Okay, besides that one time they landed to refuel on Zoness and some little jerk scrawled "Shata Lives!" on the side, with a key, just forward of the main boosters. And then there was that little incident involving the vaporization of an entire herd of cattle due to an unscheduled "buzz-by," but other than that, nothing much had happened.
But, the lack of events happening to the team didn't affect how they lived. Just like before the Androssian war, they did exactly like they did now: slacked off and still managed to get a monthly pension. All they had to do was keep out of trouble, and send in an organized (though usually beefed up) status report. One such report follows:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
GENERAL PEPPER: So, has the team seen any action in the last week?
FALCO: Er, Action?
GENERAL PEPPER: Yes, action. Y'know, combat, adventure? That sort of action?
FALCO: Oh- Oh yes! Action! Uhm- Pirates! Moose Pirates!
GENERAL PEPPER: Moose Pirates?
FALCO: Oh yes sir! Moose Pirates! I-er, I mean WE believe them to be a splinter group of Venom. They fought fiercely, but we managed to fend them off. Took major damage, and one of the crew was severely injured!
PEPPER: Good Lord! Who was it?
FALCO: The 2nd deputy commander sir, very tragic. He's hanging on by the skin of his teeth, well, he would be if he had any left- uhm- they're all lodged in his brain. Very traumatic, he may not pull through.
PEPPER: 2nd deputy commander? 2nd- wait. Lombardi, YOU'RE the 2nd deputy commander.
FALCO: - Well! Look at that! It's a miracle, I've gotten better! Thank the maker, I'm alive!
PEPPER: Lombardi, this is starting to sound much like the run-in with the Neo-Ducks.
FALCO: The Neo-Ducks! *shudders* don't remind me, such horrible people. I'm glad we didn't leave one alive-
PEPPER: Lombardi- the Neo-Ducks were and ARE a financial group, based in Corneria City. One of them helps me out with my taxes-
FALCO: WOAH! Have to go! Left my waffles in the Dishwasher! *disconnects*
PEPPER: Hurm. Well, it's good they're okay. Time for a lolly.
-------------------------------------------------
Finally, Fox and Peppy finished with their diagnostic check when Krystal came through the rear service entrance of the docking bay/ launch & landing pad/ glorified garage. She was still in her tribal outfit (y'know, the one which would get the person wearing it arrested in a heartbeat on the streets of Corneria city) but seemed to bear no mind to the chilled air of the space-craft.
"Hey love!" she gleefully shouted, then ran to Fox as he busied himself tinkering with his aircraft's workings. "How are you feeling?"
Fox smiled, looking at her. "I'm just fine baby. I'm a little busy at the moment, but I can meet up with you in the viewing deck in just a little while. Is that okay?"
Krystal sighed, and readjusted one of the bracelets on her left arm. "Sure, okay. I'll see you later." She walked off the way she came, and closed the door behind her. Peppy immediately looked back at McCloud.
"What's eating her?" he asked, with a slight bit of trouble due to trying to keep a few screws tightly held in his mouth.
"Oh," Fox started, "She's just a little homesick. The Great Fox is a lot different from Dino Planet, and she's still adjusting. It's a lot like when we let Fara onto the team."
"Fara?" Peppy repeated, "Who's Fara?"
"She's that Fennec Fox that we met back on Corneria, remember? The one with the big ears? Her? She really- well! Speak of the devil!"
Fara had just stormed into the docking bay through the more forward service entrance. She was wearing her Official Cornerian Mercenary outfit (y'know, that ridiculous jumpsuit with the ludicrous white overcoat.) She was furiously muttering curses and random profanity, which made Fox immediately drop his tools (directly onto Peppy's foot) and he jogged up to her.
"What's the matter love?" He asked, giving his most sincere voice. "Is there anything I can do-"
"Shut up McCloud, you know what the matter is." Fara barked, stopping dead in her tracks.
"I do?"
"You kept me up all night with your f*ing speed metal."
"I did?"
"Yes, you f*ing did. Then, after breakfast today, you left the mess hall an utter mess."
"I did that?"
"You F*ing ass, of course you did that! And when I finished cleaning up your disaster area, I open the fridge, and what do I find? What the hell did I find?"
" Food?"
"You f*ing left your f*ing blaster in the fridge, you idiot!!"
"Oh crap! Was that me?"
Fara slapped him across the snout, then slugged him in the gut. He toppled forward, clutching his aching stomach, and grasping for breath shouted "What was that for?"
Phoenix's only response was to walk around the vulpine and give a firm boot up his butt. She then stomped off the way she came, and left Fox sprawled on the ground, moaning and feeling like he was going to vomit up the afore- mentioned breakfast.
Hare slowly walked up to him. "Geez! What's HER problem?"
"Oh *grunt* she's just mad because she's had a lot of work to do and stuff like that."
"Do you think it has anything to do with Krystal being on-board?"
"Nah, they don't even know of each other's existence. If anything, they think I'm just talking about former maintenance providers when I say their names. Well, let's get back to work."
He picked himself up off the deck, and dragged himself across back to the Arwing. The two of them got back to checking the systems.
"Hamster wheel?"
"Check- firmly secured in the cage."
"Air sickness bag?"
"Check."
"Flashy lights?"
"Check."
"Contents of map case?"
"Star charts, scenario protocols, and- what the hell is this?"
"What is it?"
"That's what I just asked."
"Well, what does it look like?"
"Uhm, it's a picture. Er, I think it's Slippy's girlfriend."
Fox plucked the picture out of the cockpit, and gave it to Peppy for the both of them to look at. She relatively attractive (as far as toads go,) and had a rather cute looking head band and a pink dress on. Despite her appearance, the two couldn't help but laughing out loud.
"Wart's got a girlfriend!"
"I can't believe it, slipster's in love!"
"HA!"
"HO!"
"Huh-huh-huh-huh- NNNNNGH!-huh-huh-!"
Fox and Peppy looked over their shoulders, surprised to find a young terran male with a massive forehead, blue T-shirt, and black shorts hunkering in a corner of the docking bay, chortling to himself and seeming rather brain- dead.
"Hmm," Fox said, "I think we need to get better pest-control on this ship."
"Nah," replied Peppy. "We just need to get more in the habit of closing the damn hatch once in a while. Say, where's Falco?"
---------------------------------------------------------------
Falco, with his back to the wall of the below-deck cargo room, shrieked in terror as the Alien stood over him, a foul breath wafting in his face as acidic saliva dripped from the creature's jaws.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"Meh," Fox shrugged. "He's probably okay."
Peppy nodded. Again, they got back to working on the seemlessly endless task of checking the Arwing systems.
"Rotating spinny thing?"
"Check."
"On Duty/ Off Duty sign?"
"Check."
"CD Player?"
Check- with an Alan Parson's project CD still lodged into it."
"Hydraulic lifts?"
"Check this out!"
Fox flipped a switch, and the Arwing proceeded to bounce up and down on it's front landing stilt. Peppy didn't notice this though, as a massive thunderclap boomed across the landing bay. Looking at the middle entrance, he saw Slippy standing in the door-way, cocking a 12 gauge shotgun.
"I-i-i-insulting my g-g-g-girlfriend, eh?" he muttered maniacally. "Take t- t-t-this, f*er!" He fired again, taking a chunk out of the Arwing's port wing.
Peppy groaned, looking at Fox as he attempted to escape the bucking aircraft's cockpit. It was looking to be a massively long day.
NEXT CHAPTER: WILL FREE MEN SUBMIT, OR DO YOU HAVE TO TRICK THEM WITH JOLLY RANCHERS?
Now, Gentlemen, to Business!
--------------------------------------------------
"Gyroscopic Navigation?"
"Check- Fully Calibrated."
"G-Diffuser?"
"Check- Activated and Stable Output."
"Go Faster Pins?"
"Clamped tightly, and still looking sharp."
"Fuzzy Dice?"
"Securely draped across Rear-View Mirror"
"Plastic Statue of Jesus?"
"Check- Jesus is on the dash, and He's still praying."
"Fish Finder?"
"Check- and we have a group of perch just south of us."
For two hours, Fox and Peppy had been running a diagnostic check on the Arwing of the former, and just as they had suspected, nothing had broken from the day before. As a matter of fact, not much ever really changed much on the Great Fox after Fox had scampered back on after his tom-foolery on Dinosaur Planet. Okay, besides that one time they landed to refuel on Zoness and some little jerk scrawled "Shata Lives!" on the side, with a key, just forward of the main boosters. And then there was that little incident involving the vaporization of an entire herd of cattle due to an unscheduled "buzz-by," but other than that, nothing much had happened.
But, the lack of events happening to the team didn't affect how they lived. Just like before the Androssian war, they did exactly like they did now: slacked off and still managed to get a monthly pension. All they had to do was keep out of trouble, and send in an organized (though usually beefed up) status report. One such report follows:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
GENERAL PEPPER: So, has the team seen any action in the last week?
FALCO: Er, Action?
GENERAL PEPPER: Yes, action. Y'know, combat, adventure? That sort of action?
FALCO: Oh- Oh yes! Action! Uhm- Pirates! Moose Pirates!
GENERAL PEPPER: Moose Pirates?
FALCO: Oh yes sir! Moose Pirates! I-er, I mean WE believe them to be a splinter group of Venom. They fought fiercely, but we managed to fend them off. Took major damage, and one of the crew was severely injured!
PEPPER: Good Lord! Who was it?
FALCO: The 2nd deputy commander sir, very tragic. He's hanging on by the skin of his teeth, well, he would be if he had any left- uhm- they're all lodged in his brain. Very traumatic, he may not pull through.
PEPPER: 2nd deputy commander? 2nd- wait. Lombardi, YOU'RE the 2nd deputy commander.
FALCO: - Well! Look at that! It's a miracle, I've gotten better! Thank the maker, I'm alive!
PEPPER: Lombardi, this is starting to sound much like the run-in with the Neo-Ducks.
FALCO: The Neo-Ducks! *shudders* don't remind me, such horrible people. I'm glad we didn't leave one alive-
PEPPER: Lombardi- the Neo-Ducks were and ARE a financial group, based in Corneria City. One of them helps me out with my taxes-
FALCO: WOAH! Have to go! Left my waffles in the Dishwasher! *disconnects*
PEPPER: Hurm. Well, it's good they're okay. Time for a lolly.
-------------------------------------------------
Finally, Fox and Peppy finished with their diagnostic check when Krystal came through the rear service entrance of the docking bay/ launch & landing pad/ glorified garage. She was still in her tribal outfit (y'know, the one which would get the person wearing it arrested in a heartbeat on the streets of Corneria city) but seemed to bear no mind to the chilled air of the space-craft.
"Hey love!" she gleefully shouted, then ran to Fox as he busied himself tinkering with his aircraft's workings. "How are you feeling?"
Fox smiled, looking at her. "I'm just fine baby. I'm a little busy at the moment, but I can meet up with you in the viewing deck in just a little while. Is that okay?"
Krystal sighed, and readjusted one of the bracelets on her left arm. "Sure, okay. I'll see you later." She walked off the way she came, and closed the door behind her. Peppy immediately looked back at McCloud.
"What's eating her?" he asked, with a slight bit of trouble due to trying to keep a few screws tightly held in his mouth.
"Oh," Fox started, "She's just a little homesick. The Great Fox is a lot different from Dino Planet, and she's still adjusting. It's a lot like when we let Fara onto the team."
"Fara?" Peppy repeated, "Who's Fara?"
"She's that Fennec Fox that we met back on Corneria, remember? The one with the big ears? Her? She really- well! Speak of the devil!"
Fara had just stormed into the docking bay through the more forward service entrance. She was wearing her Official Cornerian Mercenary outfit (y'know, that ridiculous jumpsuit with the ludicrous white overcoat.) She was furiously muttering curses and random profanity, which made Fox immediately drop his tools (directly onto Peppy's foot) and he jogged up to her.
"What's the matter love?" He asked, giving his most sincere voice. "Is there anything I can do-"
"Shut up McCloud, you know what the matter is." Fara barked, stopping dead in her tracks.
"I do?"
"You kept me up all night with your f*ing speed metal."
"I did?"
"Yes, you f*ing did. Then, after breakfast today, you left the mess hall an utter mess."
"I did that?"
"You F*ing ass, of course you did that! And when I finished cleaning up your disaster area, I open the fridge, and what do I find? What the hell did I find?"
" Food?"
"You f*ing left your f*ing blaster in the fridge, you idiot!!"
"Oh crap! Was that me?"
Fara slapped him across the snout, then slugged him in the gut. He toppled forward, clutching his aching stomach, and grasping for breath shouted "What was that for?"
Phoenix's only response was to walk around the vulpine and give a firm boot up his butt. She then stomped off the way she came, and left Fox sprawled on the ground, moaning and feeling like he was going to vomit up the afore- mentioned breakfast.
Hare slowly walked up to him. "Geez! What's HER problem?"
"Oh *grunt* she's just mad because she's had a lot of work to do and stuff like that."
"Do you think it has anything to do with Krystal being on-board?"
"Nah, they don't even know of each other's existence. If anything, they think I'm just talking about former maintenance providers when I say their names. Well, let's get back to work."
He picked himself up off the deck, and dragged himself across back to the Arwing. The two of them got back to checking the systems.
"Hamster wheel?"
"Check- firmly secured in the cage."
"Air sickness bag?"
"Check."
"Flashy lights?"
"Check."
"Contents of map case?"
"Star charts, scenario protocols, and- what the hell is this?"
"What is it?"
"That's what I just asked."
"Well, what does it look like?"
"Uhm, it's a picture. Er, I think it's Slippy's girlfriend."
Fox plucked the picture out of the cockpit, and gave it to Peppy for the both of them to look at. She relatively attractive (as far as toads go,) and had a rather cute looking head band and a pink dress on. Despite her appearance, the two couldn't help but laughing out loud.
"Wart's got a girlfriend!"
"I can't believe it, slipster's in love!"
"HA!"
"HO!"
"Huh-huh-huh-huh- NNNNNGH!-huh-huh-!"
Fox and Peppy looked over their shoulders, surprised to find a young terran male with a massive forehead, blue T-shirt, and black shorts hunkering in a corner of the docking bay, chortling to himself and seeming rather brain- dead.
"Hmm," Fox said, "I think we need to get better pest-control on this ship."
"Nah," replied Peppy. "We just need to get more in the habit of closing the damn hatch once in a while. Say, where's Falco?"
---------------------------------------------------------------
Falco, with his back to the wall of the below-deck cargo room, shrieked in terror as the Alien stood over him, a foul breath wafting in his face as acidic saliva dripped from the creature's jaws.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"Meh," Fox shrugged. "He's probably okay."
Peppy nodded. Again, they got back to working on the seemlessly endless task of checking the Arwing systems.
"Rotating spinny thing?"
"Check."
"On Duty/ Off Duty sign?"
"Check."
"CD Player?"
Check- with an Alan Parson's project CD still lodged into it."
"Hydraulic lifts?"
"Check this out!"
Fox flipped a switch, and the Arwing proceeded to bounce up and down on it's front landing stilt. Peppy didn't notice this though, as a massive thunderclap boomed across the landing bay. Looking at the middle entrance, he saw Slippy standing in the door-way, cocking a 12 gauge shotgun.
"I-i-i-insulting my g-g-g-girlfriend, eh?" he muttered maniacally. "Take t- t-t-this, f*er!" He fired again, taking a chunk out of the Arwing's port wing.
Peppy groaned, looking at Fox as he attempted to escape the bucking aircraft's cockpit. It was looking to be a massively long day.
NEXT CHAPTER: WILL FREE MEN SUBMIT, OR DO YOU HAVE TO TRICK THEM WITH JOLLY RANCHERS?