Peppy Hare strode laconically over the burned-out surface of Venom, lost in thought save for his task here, on this world, where it all had started, and, apparently, where it would end.
It seemed like yesterday that he and James had been desperately running from this place for their lives, that one fateful day. Peppy grimly recalled the resolve in all of their eyes as the team had flown into this scarred, poisonous hellhole.
Fox had gained entry to the base, and the remaining three had stayed behind to mop up the remainder of Andross's forces. From what was being discerned, Andross was dead, Fox was mortally wounded but not dead, and on his way to a Cornerian hospital.
Which left him, Falco and Slippy alone until reinforcements came.
It had sounded like a death sentence at the time, but the pitiful remnant of the Venomian forces were no match for the steely edge in Star Fox that had gotten them this far in the first place.
Falco and Slippy had erected an ion turret beside the place where they had left the Arwings, which left Peppy to take recon duty.
He took a drag from his handmade cigarette, shouldered the heavy laser rifle over his shoulder for the millionth time and crossed over the next rocky dune.
When he saw it.
He knew exactly what it was, of course. He himself had shot it down a few hours ago.
It was the wrecked form of a Wolfen.
Yessss.
He had thought of this moment, wanted it, even. No, he had dreamed of it. And now it stood before him, like a cake just waiting to be devoured.
He smiled, a thin, grim gesture of death as he approached the downed fighter.
------------------------
Pigma Dengar awoke to find his head as though it were in a vice. Looking around, he found that that wasn't far from the truth.
The canopy bar from the viewport had collapsed in the crash, effectively jamming Pigma in the cockpit. And although Pigma felt that he had sustained no real injuries whatsoever (a miracle if ever there was one), the fact that he was trapped in a craft likely to explode any second was not a great deal better.
Panicking, he tried to free one hand from the debris that seemed to be crushing him. No good. He tried the other one, only to be greeted with a burn as he touched a superheated piece of metal.
It was then that he noticed the fires on the nose of the Wolfen that were climbing higher and higher towards him.
He fell into hysterics, escalating the panic that he had felt previously by tenfold. "H-help, anyone, please, help meeeeeeeeee!" Tears of terror began to slide down his fattened face as he screamed and pleaded for aid.
When he heard the footsteps outside.
He couldn't turn his head to see who it was, but kept shouting nonetheless. "Hello? Is somebody there? Help meeeeeee!" He began to hyperventilate, with the knowledge that he was saved.
"Shut it, fatso."
The reply from the person beside him almost stopped his heart from pure icy terror as he recognized the voice.
Before he had time to think, a strong pair of hands buried themselves in his neck and yanked him from the Wolfen's cockpit…
Bringing him face to face with the burning, maddened eyes of Peppy Hare.
I'm dead, he thought dimly as he was thrown to the ground.
------------------------------
Peppy began by putting his fist through Pigma's solar plexus, drinking in the sound of the fat traitor's scream of pain like it were a fine wine: to be savored.
The sniveling cries of Pigma rose from the dust of the ground. "Aw, c'mon Peppy, you gotta understand, I was brainwashed, man, Andross forced me to –"
All speech failed him as Peppy put his foot through Pigma's oversized gut, knocking the wind from him.
"Do you know how long I've thought of this, Pigma?"
He followed up by booting the unfortunate hired-gun in the backside, steel toe first.
"Since you left James and me to die here."
He planted a knuckler on Pigma's face, mashing his lips against his teeth.
"That was five years ago to the day, you know."
He stamped on the whimpering Pigma's torso, relishing the sound of a rib cracking as he did so.
"That's a long time to think up what you're going to do to the traitor once you find him, Pigma."
Pigma had gotten up, and without a word, had foolishly tried to run as fast as his fat body could. Panting out of shock and fear, he tripped over a dismembered robot's limb before rising and fleeing once again.
Peppy unshouldered the wickedly large rifle. Loading a single power cell into the chamber, he swung the long barrel upwards, a single whistle erupting from the muzzle as he did so.
Pigma was too shocked to even scream as a red flash tore the upper muscle in his calf almost in two. He fell, landing heavily on the dust as he did so.
"Don't run Pigma."
Pigma felt the wet warmth of his own piss spreading down his pants as he heard the cold, murderous sound of Peppy's voice right behind him.
"After all, you'll only die tired."
The butt of Peppy's gun cracked into the back of Pigma's skull with the sound of a sledgehammer hitting ripe fruit. Pigma thought he would be knocked unconscious, but he wasn't, left only with a stinging headache.
When he noticed the small Venomian pistol.
It was on his right, just a foot from his shooting hand. If he could just move it a little closer…
Peppy noticed the movement, and brought his boot heel down on Pigma's right hand. Hard.
Pigma gave no more than a whimper as his good hand was utterly crushed beneath the standard-issue Cornerian boot. His hand, his good shooting hand, ruined for life.
Peppy withdrew the cigarette from his mouth, pressing the lit end against Pigma's neck. The traitorous flyer gave one last scream as his flesh sizzled at the touch of the burning end.
"No, no, no, Pigma. I've got to give you the same chance you gave James."
He brought his foot down on Pigma's head, slowly applying pressure, grinding his snout against the ground until the blood mingled with his tears in the dust.
Peppy was bringing his foot up for another strike when Pigma squealed, "Just kill me!"
Peppy brought his foot back down. "No. I can't."
Pigma got up. "I – I don't understand "
"James wouldn't want me to. And I've seen more than enough gore today to last me a lifetime. I'd like nothing more than to execute a bastard like you, but I won't. I'm not going to kill you."
Pigma smiled. "Well, hey, buddy, that's great, maybe we could just –"
Peppy's fist landed solidly against Pigma's jaw, bringing his teeth together with and audible click. He fell backwards, utterly poleaxed.
Peppy's cigarette had gone out when he had burned Pigma with it. He swiftly rolled another, and sat back down on the dusty ground. The grizzled old hare took one last look at the manhandled form of Pigma Dengar, and then lit his cigarette.
"Here's to you, James," he muttered up at the sky, and Peppy Hare could have sworn he saw James McCloud up there as he did.