-Author's Note: Determined not to have a repeat of Hatred Falls, I pushed aside my other work for a day and sat down to at least get the cliffhanger settled. To all who did not see my previous note, I sincerely apologize for the delay due to tons of other work, but trust that the story will not die. I'm diverting a bit from my usual plan of half a chapter from Fox's view and half from Gage's, so this slightly shorter than usual chapter is all Fox and Chapter 9 will be all from Gage. Have no fear, there's a method to my madness. Thanks for reading and enjoy-Foxmerc-

CHAPTER 8
Bitter Dawn
Katina
0623 hours

I watched the blood red tropical dawn outside my Arwing's canopy with an otherworldly fascination. Most of Katina was desert, but the southern hemisphere melted into blue-green water and palm tree-covered islands that would make a travel agent's dream brochure. The surreal glow of the disturbingly peaceful scenery only added to the dream-like state I felt myself in. The sting of Gage's betrayal still pierced my mind; his own words, the loss of a brother, said it best, and for the first time in years, I felt truly alone. I felt the galaxy squeezing me, every sentient being itching to kill me, no one to trust. Only the trust of my team remained, and they suffered in a prison somewhere in that beautiful string of islands because of me. If the galaxy was going to take me down – and there wasn't a doubt in my mind that my death would come soon – then my final actions would assure that my last friends would not come down with me.

A feeling had haunted me the whole time during that long trip to Katina…a twisting pain in the pit of my stomach, one all too familiar that I prayed I would never feel again. I was young when I last felt it, a student instead of a fighter, a normal teenage boy instead of an orphan. I wasn't able to do anything back then after my parents' deaths; I had to sit and take the pain, whimpering like a baby, waiting for my chance at Andross. Not this time. My friend betrayed me, my team was on the brink of death, and that pain would be the fuel I needed. This time, I could take action. I glanced at the small stowage space behind my seat. I must have stuck half the Great Fox's armory in there, and I knew I would be going back home with much less ammo.

The rhythmic beeping on the map monitor sped up. The coordinates I downloaded with the base's location were coming up fast. My heart upped its pace to match the beeping as I looked out over the water and spotted a square landing pad on a small island's cluttered shore. The guide lights were on, as if welcoming me aboard. I squinted and saw that only a hundred or so yards inland from the pad was a small compound of a few shaky buildings and half a dozen or so trucks. Construction material sat in heaps around the compound. Looked like the Warriors hadn't completely set up shop yet. My mental query as to what the hell they were building lasted only a moment; the back of the compound was bordered by the large mountain that practically made up the island. A thick reinforced steel door was stuck in the mountainside like a cold mouth on the stone face. If anything important was hanging around, like certain valuable pilots for example, it would be there. At the very least, there would be more Warriors to kill.

A few scout fighters lazily patrolled the shore around the landing pad like seagulls. As I approached, they turned towards me and my radio crackled to life.

"Unidentified fighter, you have entered Warrior territory. Leave now or you will be fired upon."

My response was a bit shorter and to the point. The lead fighter took my laser blast up the nose and fell to the ocean in a ball of fire. The other two stunned pilots joined him before they could even think of maneuvering. The last pilot only managed to yelp out one line before he bit the dust.

"Shit, it's him!"

Fear. There was fear in that voice. Perhaps the tale of what I had done to the Viper's Kiss had spread throughout the mercenary world. Well, I didn't object. The edge that Gage had talked about what seemed like ages ago, the edge that a man could be pushed over where he has no fear for his own life, only a set view on his goal, to be achieved by whatever means necessary, had been reached. They had every reason to be fearful.

Mercs below scrambled like ants, abandoning the compound and retreating to the steel door that led into the mountain. I spotted two anti-aircraft guns, but only one seemed operational. Hardly a match for a volley from my guns. I took my time landing on the pad. The warm tropical air greeted me as my canopy opened. I climbed down with my bagged arsenal and looked around, mildly disappointed that there was no one left this side of the steel door. I nonchalantly took my jacket off in the heat and tossed it to the floor. Judging from how many mercs fled, I knew there would be more inside. I'd have to take everything. It was more weaponry than I'd ever carried before, but then again, this was more of an army than I'd ever taken on before. On land, at least.

My traditional pistol and his twin found homes in my two thigh holsters. I took the ludicrously powerful handgun that Falco loves so much and stuck it in a shoulder holster. Never know when some power might come in handy. The assault rifle that I learned to love back in the merc ambush on Corneria went strapped to my back. Half a dozen grenades dangled from my light armor vest. To top it off, besides the loads of ammo, the same model of little full-auto beauties that I picked off my assailants in the subway, one in each fist. If nothing else, at least the mercs taught me an appreciation for certain weaponry.

Loaded up for a nice, long hunt, I entered the compound, wary of any ballsy stragglers that felt like being heroes. I didn't need to go up to the door to know that it required access that I didn't have before it would open. And I definitely didn't need X-ray vision to know that there would be a welcoming committee on the other side. Even the burn of vengeance knows its limit.

I smelled my own method of entry, however. No one hangs around an aircraft hangar without witnessing the stench of jet propellant, and no one touches the caustic liquid without remembering it forever. Slippy's tales of what he'd seen that stuff do put a wicked smile on my muzzle. I turned to the row of trucks and saw that all except one were empty flatbeds. That last one, though, was a full tanker of jet propellant.

It was a simple matter of searching the teetering shacks for the keys. They were uncaringly tossed on a table. I drove the truck out and pointed it square at the door, then retrieved a cinder block from the construction piles. Letting the truck smash into the door probably would have done the trick, but if there was ever a time to be overkill, it was that morning. I dropped the block on the gas pedal and wedged a grenade behind the cab as the mobile bomb sped off. Then I ran.

A brilliant explosion lit up the shady dawn. The heat swept all the way back to the landing pad, though I was too awed to care. The truck's burning husk melted under the legendary heat of burning jet propellant. It took longer on the door, but after a good ten minutes, my little bonfire had reduced the door to a puddle of metal.

Random lasers pierced the wall of smoke. I answered with a lobbed grenade. It exploded in a way that I couldn't take seriously after the jet propellant, but it stopped the laser fire. I knew I should have waited for the smoke to clear, should have held fast until I could actually see what was waiting for me on the other side. But I didn't. I stepped through the smoke and shimmered into view on the other side like a vengeful phoenix. The half-dozen mercs cowering amongst the charred and bloody corpses of their comrades must have had their own horrific images; they stared with gaping jaws and wide eyes. I didn't hesitate. I let loose with the submachine guns before they could blink. One tried to run and got a string of lasers in the back. As I looked around the long metallic corridor for more fodder, a voice choked with fear pierced my burning rage.

"Wait, wait! I give up! Don't kill me!"

A young tiger was on his knees before me, his eyes wet, his Warrior uniform marred by smoke and blood from one of his dearly departed teammates. He raised his quaking hands high over his head. I had the impulse to shoot him on the spot, but enough of my tactical brain was functioning. I instead dropped my left gun, grabbed him up the collar with my free hand, and dragged him to the nearby wall. Before he could squeak out a sound, I smashed his face against the metal and held the barrel of my gun to the back of his head.

"It's a lovely morning out there," I said calmly. "I suggest you answer my questions if you want to live to see it."

He hesitated a moment, but finally nodded weakly.

"You know who I am. Where are you holding my team?"

He swallowed. I wasn't in the mood. I pulled his head back roughly by the ear and smashed his face against the metal again. "Where, dammit!"

"Stop! Please! They'll kill me if I tell you."

"I'll make you wish for death if you don't spill it."

He only had to sniff in the stench of burning fur again to know that I wasn't joking. Finally, he gestured down the corridor and said in a half-whisper, "Only part of the base is constructed. They're down that hall. Take a right at the end and there's an elevator down to the holding cells."

"How many of you assholes are down there?"

He hesitated.

"How many!"

"I don't know!" He shuddered. "Maybe five, six. Everyone's on the other end if the island, prepping the convoy. We were going to move the prisoners, but…" He trailed off.

I got all I needed from him. My finger tightened around the trigger, but it stopped. My God, he was too young for this. Late teens, early twenties tops. I knew what it was like. My red haze of anger faltered for a moment. Who could he be…a rebellious kid who ran away from home maybe? Someone who got into the wrong crowd at school and was waiting to learn his first life lesson? Maybe an adventurous boy who was fooled into the wrong kind of adventure? I tried shoving these out of my head, reminded myself that he would have killed me and my team, but instead a new voice entered my head. Gage once again, over a year ago, talking about his battles in the war. One line had apparently refused to be forgotten by time.

"Fate didn't choose our sides. We did. We're part of the good guys, Fox, you and me, and that can never change. We can get lost along the way, but that path will always lead back to our true purposes."

I had killed before. If that puddle of a door behind me was standing again between me and my team, then I would destroy it again and shoot anyone who wanted to stop me. I had done that plenty in my life, and that didn't drag me from the "good guy" side. But standing in that acrid hallway with the quivering kid under my gun, my finger was squeezing the trigger halfway towards what I would never have done, what I would have always equated with the bad guys. My finger relaxed.

I didn't get a chance to do anything more. A laser scorched the metal by my face and I spun to see two mercs rushing around the corner down the corridor. They shouldered their rifles and my instincts kicked in. I rolled behind one of the crates the mercs were using for cover as the air filled with searing light. The tiger didn't make it. I don't know what made me think these fucking scumbags would care about their own, but I had to swallow renewed rage as the kid hit the deck with three holes in him.

I dropped the submachine gun and pulled out the monster of a handgun that Falco preferred. One thing it had going for it, it was accurate, and I was about to count on that. I rested the gun on top of the crate and took careful aim, ignoring the bursts of inaccurate rifle fire. Two shots, two dead mercs. I holstered the pistol and pulled forward my own assault rifle.

One of the newly dead Warriors had a keycard on him. The simple lettering "Prison Block" told me that I should probably take it with me. After a short elevator ride down into the island, I came fact to face with a door that needed it. The powers that be finally decided to cut me a break. I shouldered the rifle, ready for an army, and was only greeted by two unaware guards that fell to bursts from my assault rifle. They stood in the middle of a long row of cells, but not modern like the surface. They were reminiscent of old movies with stone and bare mountain rock as the walls and metal bars instead of energy fields. If there was any merciful side to these merc groups, I had yet to see it.

"Who's there? Who is that?"

I had never been so happy to hear that squeaky voice. "Slippy?"

"Fox!"

I jogged forward, scanning the empty cells until I found the right one. My newfound joy was short-lived. Slippy stood at the bars, looking more haggard than I'd ever seen him, even after he stayed up three nights in a row to fix major damage on the Great Fox. Peppy lay on the hard bench, not looking much better. Falco…

"Where's Falco?" I asked, a bit alarmed.

Slippy's face fell and my heart wrenched. Had they already killed him? I hit the lock release on the wall and pulled the heavy barred door open.

"Fox…" Slippy replied in a low voice.

"Don't worry, I'll find him. He might be okay."

"No, Fox." He took my arm. The usually bright eyes looked at me with an eerie somberness. "Falco's fine. He…he…"

It all hit me at once, knocking my breath out. My mind whirled back to all the events that had led up to that moment. How could the Vipers have the code to the Great Fox's defense grid to bypass it and insert Angela? Who could have known the location of my team? They weren't captured…they were handed over. Who else knew that I called my Arwing Lightning at one time? Who else could have made that list I found on MercNet? Gage was innocent…he was true all along.

I couldn't believe it. I backed up the wall and sank to a sitting position on the cold ground, my eyes blank. Falco and I had some problems in the past…hell, we still had problems from time to time, but not problems that would warrant this. He nearly killed us all, but why? I was numb. I should have been angered to all hell, but I was numb. I eventually became aware of Slippy talking to me and pointing to Peppy.

"…too old to take this. I don't know if he'll make it."

I stood and walked over to the old hare. He was in a fitful sleep. His pulse was weak and his breath came in short rasps. My vision became blurred. I wiped the tears away and shook my head. I was no medical man, but I knew it was bad. The only thing I could do was get them out of there. I pulled my handgun free…Falco's handgun…and handed it to Slippy. "Stay with him and stay here. Where's Falco?"

"They didn't trust him. He's locked up also until all this is done." Slippy scoffed. "They never had the intentions to pay anyone. He's through there, in the adjacent block." He hesitated. "What are you going to do?"

I answered honestly. "I don't know."

I walked through the door at the end of the cell block, hardly caring if there were guards on the other side. There weren't. Falco was in the last cell, sitting on the bench, his head bowed. It shot up as I approached. I was used to confronting enemies. They always looked at me with malice, a taunting sneer, or something else that made it quite clear that they were my enemy. I expected the same from Falco, perhaps a speech about how "I should have been the leader, pitiful fox!" But instead he stared up at me with a reflected somberness. We each waited for the other to speak. Finally, I hit the door release and pulled the door open. If he wanted to kill me, he had every chance. When minutes passed without a word, I pulled one of my pistols free and held it limply at my side. He looked as if he expected that.

"Why did you join StarFox, Falco?" I asked in a near whisper. I feared my voice would crack if I tried louder. When he didn't answer, I repeated the question.

"Because," he started in a similarly low tone. "Because you were my only friends."

"Is that all?"

He hesitated a moment. "Money."

"Which was the greater reason?"

"We've had our downs," he responded. "We've had times where…where the team was nearly broke. I still stayed." For the first time in my life, I saw a tear slide down that blue cheek. "I don't know what happened this time. I never intended for them to get hurt…Peppy and Slippy."

"Just me?"

He glanced up at me, then returned his eyes to the ground. "He offered too much. This unreal amount. I was intoxicated, but it wore off. By time I could think straight…it was too late to take it all back, to undo what I did. God…God, I'm so sorry, Fox. I fucked things up bad."

We can get lost along the way…

I stood looking at the top of his head for a long time. Finally, I unholstered my other pistol. The rest of my team needed me. It was time to end it. I raised my left gun and tossed it at his feet. He looked up at me with surprise.

"Most are at the other end of the island," I said slowly, still cautious of my voice. "I'm walking back to my ship, and I'm not looking back. You have my back to shoot if you want to collect in on the payment. Otherwise, find a way out of here. Falco…I never want to see you again. If I do, you better be armed."

"Fox…"

I turned and walked away. I heard a gentle scraping as he picked the gun up off the floor. But that was the last thing I heard. I crossed the door at the end of the block alive. Slippy waited with an expectant face. I simply said, "Let's get out of here. Help me with Peppy."

-Chapter 9 coming soon-