Chapter 3: Formative Years
East Sub-Block Correctional Facility, Corneria City Outskirts, 4481 AIC
(7 Years Later)
Morning was the only time when the hostile confines of the juvenile hall even remotely resembled the outside world.
It was so early that even the faintest orange hue of daybreak had still yet to creep in through the grime-coated pane of the windows. The aching morning hours seemed to hold the sky hostage in an inky haze, one reflected in the waves that were made frigid from the long night air.
During these fleeting hours of calm, the facility saw something resembling tranquility, even the large room that made up the barracks. Its tile floors were stained with mold, the air was rank with the stench of rusty pipes and the almost sour fumes of body odor. But this was the one time in the day when the walls weren't ringing with the echo of quarrelsome voices and brawling, and the only thing disturbing the stillness in the air was the stirring of sleeping inmates.
Suddenly, the shrill sound of an alarm bell shattered the silence, signaling the ceiling lights to beam on blaringly and singe through everyone's sheets. Muffled groans arose from the numerous beds across the room. A stocky guard seemingly unfazed by the ungodly hour stormed in and rapped the unlit tip of his stun baton against the metal rack of the nearest bed, the ringing noise rattling every inmate's head.
"Alright, pansies, you heard the bell. Get your carcasses to the Assembly Room, single-file and on the double. Get moving!"
Half-asleep grumbles of protest arose from every bunk, as each inmate dragged themselves out of bed and followed the blurry silhouettes barking orders at them. Even if they had been awake enough to summon the energy to complain, it wasn't worth having one's open ire punished by the sting of the guard's baton. They marched down the hallway on drowsy autopilot, dragging their shambling feet across the grimy floor.
At the end of the corridor, a sliding door opened to a large assembly room, in which the inmates poured in dozily.
Rather than a horde of surly, brow-beaten adults, the inmates that trudged in sleepily were a bunch of disgruntled adolescent boys. There wasn't a single grown man among them, with even the burliest among them still hovering on the threshold of seventeen. And yet they still lumbered towards their seats with a very disgruntled adult disposition, in enough of a sour mood to launch the first boy who so much as nudged against them into a grapple. It didn't matter how early in the morning it was—they always had enough energy to spare for a fight. In fact, that was why most of them were here. Tattoos and fur dye ran rampant on whatever part of them was visible under their jail clothes, even among the younger boys. Some of them had pierced lips and beaks, and nearly all of them had the fur or feathers on their heads fashioned into some kind of brutish style. Eyelids heavy and patience long expired, they all slumped into the folding chairs facing the front.
A Sparrow, with crudely-dyed feathers and piercings running up his beak, rubbed his temples with a weary scowl. "Fucking hell...my head feels like it's going to crack open."
The boy next to him suppressed a yawn. "Hey, Kaz...any idea what they woke us up for?"
"Why the hell are you asking me like I know?" The Sparrow growled. "I swear, if it's another assembly punishment for some asshat in the other cell block, I'm going back to bed. The guards can go ahead and bash my head in all they want—it can't be worse than the headache I've got now."
Behind them, a boy whispered in a low voice. "D'you think it's somebody got caught breaking into the pantry again? Kyle's been looking pretty fat lately...I bet he did it."
"Hmph. Even Kyle couldn't get fat off of the food around here." The Sparrow overcame his headache for a second to straightens eagerly. "Hey, you don't think maybe the Warden finally died in his sleep, do you?" He was distracted by the sudden hiss of the slide door at the front of the room, only to sigh disgruntledly. "Shit...never mind."
A similar batch of grimaces spawned around him as the Warden, a Jackrabbit with a grease-stained whiskers and beady eyes from too much drink, walked to the front of the grumbling mass of boys. He blew into a sonic whistle, which crackled faultily and prompted him into rattling the room awake with his voice instead.
"Attention, all of you!" He shouted. "This is an ungodly hour for me as well, so sit tight and keep your mouth shut so we can get this over with. I've roused you all up for—QUIET!" He sprayed his thrashing voice and a volley of spit at a pair of whispering boys in the front, before continuing. "I've roused you all up for news that some of you have no doubt been looking forward to, but nowhere near as much as I have." Rare satisfaction drew his lips into a smirk, popping a few mottled teeth into view. "I have just been wired the list of inmates who qualify for early release."
The word caused several of the inmates to become far more attentive, excited whispers spreading amongst them.
"Wait, did he say early 'release'?"
"Holy crap, he did! The rumors were true…they bumped up the release evaluations early!"
"I can't wait. This time I gotta be on the approval list!"
"Gimme a break. Nobody's stupid enough to bail you out—"
A guard rapped his baton against the wall to quiet them down, and the superintendent's scotch-riddled voice resumed its impatient crooning.
"I could've waited till daybreak to read it off, but I don't feel like toleratin' you walking scabs a second longer than I have to. If I get an early chance to get rid of one or all of you, you can bet that's an opportunity I'll seize. So you all know how this shindig goes: those of you who made the list thanks to bail or good behavior or whatever the hell got you out of my hair, return to the locker rooms and pack your things. Those of you who ain't, report to the laundry room to get started on your chores. I'd also like to add that no amount of pissin' or whining will make the decision of the list any less final." He squinted at the list. "Right, then. The names are…"
Several creaking sounds all erupted simultaneously as all the boys sat forward, ears pricked and eyes wide.
"Samuels. Horowitz. O'Leary—no, not you, the other O'Leary, sit back down. Paxton. Chernov. Gibbons. Frost."
He kept grunting his way down the list, as various boys of different builds and species sat up at the sound of their name.
"Braddock. Howell….Kazchek."
The Sparrow sat up alertly. "What?"
"Kaz, that's us three!" yelped The Dog next to him excitedly. "We made it! We made the list!"
"YES!" The Sparrow grinned.
The Warden fixed his beady eyes on them. "Hey! You little pricks take that shit to the locker room, before I send you onto that Shuttle with your face caved in!"
He waited for the boys to scramble to their feet and race out the hall doors, before continuing.
"…Hawthorn. Alvarez. Lang…and Ainsley." He frowned, giving the list another look-over before shoving it in a nearby guard's hand. "That's all. The rest of you, get a move on! Now!"
With the air of excitement in the room deflated, a profanity-ridden uproar quickly erupted from the remaining seated boys, before they were quickly silenced by the thwacking of batons against the wall. Metal chairs lurched collectively with the boys rising out of them, dialing their voices down to bitter grumbling as they shuffled out the door.
Far in the back row, surrounded by the cluster of empty seats, one boy remained where he sat while the rest of them cleared out.
Wolf O'Donnell was glued to his chair, feeling a bulging knot in his stomach that sent a sick, weightless feeling down to his legs. The day he had been anticipating with both excitement and dread had finally arrived, only to leave him with his eyes in his lap, frustrated and helpless.
His name hadn't been on the list. Again.
If the sour stench of body odor and stifling humidity of the Belongings Room wasn't enough incentive for inmates to speed in and out of it hastily, the overhead radio was plenty.
Whenever it wasn't blaring the warden's orders, the scratchy outdated intercom cycled the usual grating radio offerings of that morning, making the start of the day even worse by embedding chipper jingles into the boys' weary skulls. The room was already awash in enough sounds to rattle them awake: the squeaking of rubber boots against the dingy floor, the loud gossip and grumbling, all of which were only occasionally audible over the loud clanging of oversized grated metal drawers and lockers. None of them, however, were quite as obnoxious as the whooping voices barreling in from the doorway.
"You smell that, boys? Today's the last day we're gonna have to endure the stench of this dump ever again!"
The newly-freed Sparrow and his friends came strolled in, intoxicated on the fumes of high spirits and sharing excited plans with each other:
"Man, I can't wait to walk the streets of the old neighborhood again," One of them said, as they grabbed their belongings. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm hitting up the first diner joint I see. Lemme tell you, that food's gonna be like heaven after all this jail slop…"
"First things first, I'm heading to is the record store," Another said giddily. "Do you even know how many Wingburner albums I've missed in the time I've been in here?"
"Pfft. Screw all of that," The Sparrow's voice was the loudest, cutting through the air and bouncing off the walls like a raid siren. "The second I'm out, I'm scoring some Zonetian ice—I haven't had a hit in years. And then I'm gonna see if Old Man Hansen's liquor store is still standing…" He curled his beak into a smile, flexing his fingers. "…maybe even 'misplace' a bottle, like old times."
"You do that, and you'll be back here in no time," remarked the boy next to him.
The Sparrow grinned, sporadic golden teeth peppering his smile. "Nah, see, this time I won't get turned in, even if I am caught. Time in here's made me a changed man…" He cracked his knuckles. "…and has really given me the chance to refine my communication skills."
He elicited a few chuckles out of the others, before he gathered his clothes into a bag like the rest of them. Just as he was about to head out, something nearby snatched his attention. One of the other boys looked back impatiently. "What's the hold up, Kaz? Let's get goin'!"
A new, eager smile played on the Sparrow's beak, before he flung his bag to one of them. "Wait. There's something I wanna do real quick..."
On the other side of the crowded room, away from the clatter of steel grates and the squeaks of shoes on the floor, Wolf gathered his clothes to start the day. His movement was slogged, noncommittal. He robotically sorted through his belongings, trying to make the hollow feeling in his stomach disappear into the motions of his daily routine...but it was useless. Everything from his crinkled laundry to the grey walls just compounded the one miserable thought on his mind.
He was going to spend another year here. Another year in these halls, watching other boys go in and out, while he remained…while life continued to pass him by.
For months, he'd done everything in his power to end up on that list: he'd taken extra chores, scrubbed the floors till his sleepless eyes burned and his wrists ached. He had taken every day of jeering and harassment from the other boys, in silence and without protest just like Peppy had told him to, in a desperate attempt not to recreate an incident like the one that had landed him here. And none of it had been good enough. He hadn't been good enough.
Wolf stopped fumbling with his clothes, clinging to the metal grate. It was only morning, and he would have to spend the rest of the day going about his usual chores. Acting like nothing was wrong.
Just then, his ear twitched as the song playing on the overhead radio stopped abruptly for an advertisement. "Hey there, you! Have your heart set on reaching the stars? Think you've got what it takes to serve in a squadron? Apply today and see if YOU'RE eligible to enter the Cornerian Flight Academy: the best military program in the galaxy, supervised by the legendary Star Fox Team! A short four years at the Planetary Campus, and another four at the Orbital Campus, and you'll be ready to join our boys in the Fleet keeping our skies safe! A man in uniform stands out among the rest, right, ladies? If you want to know more, stay tuned after our next song…"
It was just more of the usual enlisting propaganda that littered the radio stations. Nothing to get worked up over. But today, the ads seemed to mock Wolf, gleefully reminding him of the future he was missing. "All these other boys get to leave" it seemed to say, in that patriotic baritone. "But not you." As a new song started blaring, Wolf angrily stuffed his clothes into his duffel bag. His fingers brushed against something paper at the bottom of his bag, sticking out underneath all the cloth.
He fished it out, revealing it to be something he'd forgotten he'd even packed: a crumpled photo of him, Peppy smiling, and a bemused Lucy outside of their home, surrounded by the snow of their first winter together.
In an instant, Wolf was yanked out of his dingey surroundings, melancholy nostalgia rushing back for that old house on Fichina—those years of homeschooling with the Hares he used to think so boring; Lucy teaching him to read, Peppy taking the both of them out for ice cream, those days where it would rain for hours but Peppy would always liven things up with some new game he'd make up on the spot, some ghost story he'd make up in a minute, or one of his war stories that Wolf didn't know he loved so much until the time he spent without them...in here.
Wolf sighed. So many things he took for granted.
At the rate things were going with his current sentence, he wouldn't see that house for another two years. Two more years without Lucy's cooking, or Peppy's stories. He looked sadly at the Hare's beaming smile, feeling his gut wrench at the eventuality of having to face him during his next visitation…having to tell him the bad news, and watch him try and hide his disappointment.
His eyes moved to his own face in the photo, which seemed so much younger and rounder to the point of being unrecognizable. A sickening feeling hit the bottom of his stomach, a new thought striking him: How old was he going to be once he finally left this place? 18? 20?
He wondered how much of his life he was going to watch fester away in this new cave of his…
CLANG!
His thoughts were interrupted by a hand springing out and slamming his belongings drawer shut. Wolf turned alertly, only to lapse miserably at the all-too-familiar flash of gold teeth.
"How are we today, Greyling?" The Sparrow smiled, leaning on the wall of drawers casually. "Almost missed you on my way out. You aren't trying to avoid me, are you?
Wolf felt himself cringe, decrying his luck. He had desperately hoped that he could escape the attention of the miscreants just for today—especially the Sparrow. But Wolf was awkwardly tall, lean, and the only one without tattoos or some manner of fur-dye. He was far too easy to single out in the roomful of boys, something that was made more overt as more of the Sparrow's friends gathered around.
"Got any smokes?"
"...I'm trying to quit," Wolf mumbled vacantly.
The punk frowned. "That's not what I asked. D'ya got any smokes on you, or don't ya?"
Wolf didn't say anything. He clearly wasn't going to be left alone, and his first instinct was to make a brisk exit, but that was impossible with all of the Sparrow's friends looking on.
"Hello?" The Sparrow gave him an impatient jab to the forehead. "I said something you, pal. You gonna answer me, or what?"
Instead of hitting back or pushing him out of his space, Wolf kept his head slumped submissively. " ...I don't have any. Warden took 'em all."
The Sparrow clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "I know you're lying, because I can smell the whiff of cigs on that shirt of yours. Which means you're not only lying, but you're holding out on me. And that's a big no-no."
Wolf stood there silently, knowing perfectly well that punk didn't actually care about finding any cigarettes on him. It was just today's excuse to talk to him, and stage yet another failed attempt to provoke him. After a moment or two passed, and Wolf tried to move past him, only for the Sparrow to obstruct his path.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Wolf paused. The boy was being more persistent than usual. "Laundry room."
"But I didn't say you could leave, did I?"
A smirk played on his beak, one that dared Wolf to move. It was only a few feet between Wolf and the door, just past the wall of snickering boys. He could endure a few more minutes until they left—
"You know...you're always the quiet kid in whatever room I'm in," observed the Sparrow, circling him like one of the many ravenous creatures that stalked the Venomian wastes, and with a look just as hungry. "No matter what I say, or what I do...or how I push...I can't get anything outta you. Hell, I think you've maybe said eight words in the entire time I've been here. It's weird; I can get a fight out of just about anyone in this cell block…except for you."
Without warning, he suddenly broke his stride to viciously shove Wolf, failing to illicit any noise from him but still managing to make him stumble back clumsily and almost step on his own tail, which sent a ripple of laughter from the other boys. Anger boiled inside of Wolf's stomach, but he still kept his gaze locked onto the ground. The Sparrow tilted his head, trying to meet his lowered eyes.
"Nothing today either?" He curled his lip. "And here I was thinking I'd be leaving here with a good time."
Nearby, a Newt called out. "C'mon, Kaz, why d'you mess with him when you know it's a waste of time? The guy barely talks...the vents make more noise than he does. You ain't gonna get anything out of him."
The Sparrow's dyed feathers ruffled in annoyance, eyes fixed on Wolf. "See these other guys, Greyling? They think you won't budge. But you and I know better, don't we?"
He rapped Wolf between his ears next, causing him to flinch. More laughter sprang from the other boys. Feeling his face nettle with humiliation, Wolf stood there fumingly, finding it harder than usual to contain his impulses. Under normal circumstances, he would have throttled the smug little Sparrow by now. But he couldn't—not if he wanted to avoid being transferred to another cell block and extending his time in here. Peppy's instructions flashed in his mind:
"Keep to yourself. Don't start anything. Don't even talk to anyone—be a completely different person if you have to.
Just keep the Venomian side of yourself a secret at all costs, y'hear me? Promise me you won't let it spill out.."
That was the problem, Wolf realized as his eyes traveled around the circle of jeering boys: how was a regular person supposed to put up with people like this?
The Sparrow's loud voice yanked him back to reality. "Have you heard the news? I'm leaving today, Greyling. Smooth sailing from here to Corneria City." He played at false curiosity. "You know it's funny, I actually didn't hear your name on the list."
Wolf said nothing, keeping his gaze aloft and unfocused. The Sparrow leaned forward, bringing his insufferable smirk closer.
"What's that feel like? Knowing that I'll get to see the outside of these walls, while you rot inside them?"
Without changing a line of his expression Wolf looked up and asked platonically. "You finished? Can I go now?"
The eagerness was evaporating quickly from Sparrow's face, souring completely.
"Wait a second—is that Peppy Hare?"
Wolf dropped his placid, stony expression in instant alarm as one of the boys pointed to the worn photograph wedging out of his bag, fishing it out before he could react fast enough.
"It is! It's Peppy Hare!" The boy exclaimed, showing it to the awestruck boys.
"What?! Let me see that," the Sparrow snapped, snatching it from him. He and the others huddled around it, before astonishment spread across their expressions.
Wolf felt his heart stop. He tried to reach over and grab it, before—
"I'll be damned…it is him," the Sparrow murmured. His eyes traveled to the child in the photo. "And look—our boy's there with him!"
"No fucking way," said the Newt behind him. "You're telling me that this mute of a wet blanket got a photo op with one of the Star Fox pilots? Give me a break!"
"It's more than a photo op…lookit back there. That's his house. Greyling here must know them personally." The Sparrow's eyes darted up dubiously. "How'd you manage that, Greyling? Is your mom cozy with one o' them, or something?"
Fingers curling around the handle of his bag, Wolf stepped toward him. "Give it back."
"'Give it back.'" The Sparrow mimicked a high-pitch. "You should be careful what you leave around in plain sight. Someone could get careless, and accidentally—" His fingers danced atop the photograph's edge, creasing it as he started to tear it down the middle. Wolf's blood spiked, feeling the urge to say or do something, before realizing that a space had opened between the crowd of boys. He took advantage and walked through them towards the door.
Just get one of the wardens like Peppy says...
Then, out of the corner of his eye, the Sparrow took notice of something that made him stop. "Hullo, who do we have here?" He moved his thumb over. "There's a fetching little lady next to our buddy in this picture."
Not even an inch from the sliding door, a bloodcurdling sensation froze Wolf on the spot, numbing his legs.
"And who might this be?" The Sparrow's beak curled into a hungry grin, exposing every gold tooth. "My, my, Greyling, you never told me you knew a dish like this." He glanced back, dangling the photo from his fingers. "What do you think of her, boys?"
"Hot damn, I like the curves on her. Those eyes, too."
"Take a look at her fur. Mmm, wouldn't mind running a hand through that…probably softer than a cloud."
"Yeah, she's a regular cream puff. Not bad, not bad at all."
He passed the photo around, igniting a surge of seedy interest from the circle of boys. Grubby hands squabbled over the young girl's image. Degrading whistles and whooping rang throughout the room.
"Wait a minute…does that mean she's the old Rabbit's daughter?" The Newt grabbed it and examined it. "I didn't even know he was married—how'd that happen? Being the third wheel on the Star Fox Team couldn't have done him any favors."
"Hey, you know how these Fichinese rabbit folk are…they always find ways to multiply," The Sparrow crowed. "Besides, you're all missing the most important thing here: lookit how young our Greyling friend is in this photo…it must've been taken a long time ago." His tongue slid out from under his beak, licking his upper lip. "Which means Girlie here's probably all grown up, too…even older than us. Just think of how much juicier she is now…"
Yellow-toothed grins and chuckles sprang on the pool of faces. Every whistle and laugh scuttled under Wolf's skin, stoking the anger that was boiling in his stomach. He wasn't going to bite his impulses back long enough to make it out the door. It was so close, just out of reach, but the Sparrow and his friends just kept talking—
The Sparrow put on a look of mock hurt. "I'm crushed, Greyling; all this time, you knew a prime catch like this, and you never mentioned her once? That won't do. I reckon we should introduce ourselves to her, right boys? I'm sure we'd be perfectly suited to show her a real night on the town."
A boy behind him grinned. "Hell yes. High-class gal like that looks like she's achin' for a good time. Wouldn't complain if we gave it to her, I reckon."
"Complain?" Another laughed. "Give me five minutes with her, and she'd never want to go home!"
The Sparrow kept his gaze locked squarely on the shaking shoulders of Wolf's back. He was relishing the unusual amount of reaction he was getting out of him today, eager to see if he could finally get him to snap. He was closer than he realized: It was taking all of Wolf's restraint for him not to turn around, the ringing laughter sending a nettling sensation under his skin like a rash, clenching his fists until he could feel his claws digging into his palms.
"Hey, now…aren't you guys forgetting something?" A grubby boy asked. "Her dad's Peppy Hare. D'you think he's going to just stand around while you have a go at his daughter?"
"Oh, yeah? And tell me why I should be afraid of him, exactly?" demanded the Sparrow. "Maybe if we were talking about McCloud, or even Dengar, I'd understand—but Hare? He's a total loser. A lo-ser. That spineless old shit can't do anything to anyone—least of all me."
"You're talking about a legendary pilot," The Newt behind him scoffed. "Is there something about him I don't know, that you don't?"
Rolling his eyes, the Sparrow turned to him. "Wake up, genius. Why d'you think the newspapers barely mention him each time the Star Fox Team make headlines? Why do you think he mostly teaches while the other two do all the flying and shooting?"
The Newt shrugged. "Maybe he's just a better teacher than the other two."
"Yeah, that's the official story...and it's a crock of shit. I'll tell you why he's mostly teaching kids these days—" He brandished the photo, voice thick with resentment. "It's 'cause he's the third wheel of the Team. The soft one, the weak one. An embarrassment. He hasn't been a 'legendary pilot' in years...now, he just gets fat and fucks around with kids all day."
Standing at the door with his back still to the others, Wolf felt a humiliating jolt worming its way into his chest. He fought to keep still, trying to recall the steps Peppy had made him recite. Something about breathing deeply, counting to ten—
"I mean, hell, they probably try to brush him under the rug out of embarrassment," The Sparrow laughed scornfully. "Better to keep him chained to Academy duty where his doddering stupidity doesn't get anyone killed."
One…two…three…, and Wolf felt white-hot anger igniting his hands, the last vestiges of restraint withering the longer Sparrow kept talking.
"Imagine what it's like to fly with that hillbilly moron…practically being his caretaker, making sure he doesn't shit himself in the cockpit, or something."
One of the other boys guffawed. "No wonder James looks so tired all the time."
"Sounds like dealing with the average Long-Ears to me. You know what they say about these Fichinese country folk—" The Sparrow projected his jeers around the other boys. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's the slow-headed accident of some barnyard inbreeding like the rest of his kind."
Another boy made a face before laughing. "That's friggin disgusting, Kaz."
"You know I'm right. In fact, knowing what I know about quickly Rabbits like him reproduce, I wouldn't have to worry about upsetting him by having a go at his daughter..."
His fingers snaked over the two figures in the photo, lowering his voice to a mock scandalous tone. "…he's probably already beaten me to it."
He smiled in Wolf's direction. "Ain't that the truth, Greyling?"
If there was more laughter or crowing from the other boys, Wolf didn't hear it. A feverish buzzing was burrowing itself deep into his ears, climbing to a maddening hum.
All at once, everything the Sparrow was insinuating seeped into Wolf. Every word…every vile, disgusting implication hanging off of them, stopped the flow of air to his throat. Livid fumes entered his lungs like a toxin. The disappearing, rational part of his brain clambered desperately at Peppy's advice, but it became far too distant to hear…as thoughts of the Hare were tainted by images planted by the Sparrow's words.
Raw, unfiltered rage took ahold of Wolf, to where it reduced his vision to a disorienting blur. It spiked the nerves in his facial muscles, making them twitch and spasm uncontrollably. His ears were clogged by the sound of his own seething, which drew his upper lip higher above the curves of his clenched teeth.
There was no point in hiding his true nature anymore…it wasn't like he had any hopes of being released from this place.
With his back still to the others, he let the duffel bag drop from his shaking hand. Hollers of mock fear came from the other boys. The Sparrow flashed an eager smile. "Whoops, looks like that was the button. What's the matter, did I hurt the baby's feelings?"
The frame of Wolf's shoulders just rose and fell, while the thin rasping sound of uneven breathing emerged from where his back was turned.
The smile on the Sparrow's face had barely melted when Wolf whirled around to lunge at him.
In a split second, the outstretched, clawed fingers of Wolf's hand came within a few inches of the boy's widening eyes when pair of arms latched around Wolf's neck and chest, pulling him back. A grin on the Sparrow's face returned as he watched him struggle under the hold of the Newt who had grabbed him. Growling furiously, Wolf thrashed at the taller boy restraining him, only to be flung against the wall, paralyzed long enough for the Newt to snatch a handful of the white fur railing his scalp and slam his face against the row of metal drawers. Wolf's vision became a blinding white, a searing puffy sensation running down his forehead, along with the trickle of blood. And then the Newt slammed him against the drawers again and again, to the laughter of the other boys. Ears ringing and forehead bleeding, Wolf clambered about blindly until his fingers found a higher-placed open drawer, quickly shutting it on the Newt's scaly hand. The Newt yowled, tail curling in pain, while Wolf slipped free…barely hobbling to his feet when he raised his arm to instinctively repel something whistling towards him. A bulky Bobcat seized his wrist, locking arms with him. Wolf let out a strained grunt as he saw more boys over the feline's shoulder charging at him while he was exposed. Snarling exasperatedly, Wolf improvised: he jerked his neck back and savagely head-butted the Bobcat, seethingly ignoring his own gushing forehead until the boy collapsed. Tossing him aside and squinting through the red crowning his eyebrows, Wolf leapt and seized the Sparrow in a murderous tackle—their combined weight and speed unbalancing the other boys in the tight space and bringing them hurtling down as well.
CRASH!
The long wooden bench in the middle of the changing room collapsed under the swarm of yelling boys, splinters flying everywhere. Bystanders that hadn't left already made a mad dash for the door, if only to avoid being yanked into the fray spilling out on the tiled floor.
Whatever boys that remained conscious swarmed Wolf like ants, and he made short work of them. They would get in the occasional hit—a nip to the ear here, a pummel to the ribs there—but it only served to infuriate Wolf more, fueling him to retaliate more savagely. His fists snaked and cracked at them like rawhide, sending them away in screams and arcs of blood. Between all the thrashing, Wolf's eyes darted about the tangled, groaning mess around him, struggling to find the Sparrow. The moment's distraction cost him: A brown, blurry fist of a Hyena that had caved into his face. As he balled another fist, Wolf reacted from muscle memory—diving flat on his back the way he would when misty ground to dodge the snapping jaws of a predator back on Venom—and swinging a kick at the soft back part of the Hyena's knee. The boy's canine whelp was then silenced by Wolf ramming his fist into his snout: a sickening crack and a muffled scream followed, and the Hyena hobbled back, hands cupped around his dripping nose.
Wolf panted hoarsely, the frenzy of movement in the small room dissipating long enough for him to wipe the bloody tangle of fur out of his eyes. It was in that second of clarity that he saw the blur of speckled feathers hook around his neck from behind. Wolf gargled and choked, unable to turn his head at the sound of a snide voice above his ear.
"I told you I'd get some fun out of you."
The Sparrow kept a tight grip on him, taking advantage of the tight wallspace to keep Wolf wriggling and gagging in place. He clicked his tongue to signal the Hyena, who flattened his pierced ears at the opportunity presented to him, leveling his fist.
SLAM!
Bound in place like livestock being branded, Wolf was forced to take the downpour of blows to his face. His sweaty hands fruitlessly tried to wrench himself free of the Sparrow's grip, but his Avian bones were locked around his neck like a vice. Welts rose around his cut lip, as he struggled to breathe. His head would lull, and the Sparrow would yank it back up by the fur on his scalp. Just as his eyelids were growing puffy, Wolf saw the direction of the Hyena's fist.
Except this time, he was ready.
Wolf's mouth sprang open, catching the balled fist in his teeth and biting down. It was so horrifically unorthodox that it actually disarmed the wide-eyed Sparrow into releasing his grip on Wolf, who was still attached to the screaming Hyena's hand. He stopped biting and caught his breath, spitting out a glob of fur with a scowl, while the Hyena retched on the ground, clutching his mangled, bloody fingers. The sight caused the Sparrow to grimace, all of the eagerness seeping out of him. He attempted to slip out the door unnoticed, but Wolf's hands found him. In a single, blurring move of monstrous strength, Wolf grabbed and hurled the bird over his shoulder into the wall of drawers, the impact dislodging dozens of metal drawers with a deafening clang.
He wasn't even allowed to wince in a crumpled heap; the Sparrow felt himself being rolled over on his back, hearing a rumbling noise from above…a guttural snarl that he'd never once heard from a civilized creature. Confused terror directed his pupils to Wolf standing over him. In that instant, he felt his throat tighten, staring up at the meek introvert he loved to provoke, now unable to recognize him through those dilated pupils or contorted features...
Wolf only did what came natural to him. He let the anger that he'd bottled up for so long spill out through his fingers.
When the other boys were jolted out of their daze on the floor, it was from the splattering sound of him squatting over their friend, beating him relentlessly. His knuckles drove into him with a sickening noise that turned over every stomach in the room, the Sparrow's face rapidly becoming indiscernible in the mess of sprouting bruises and bloodied feathers.
"Jesus CHRIST! He's butchering Kaz!" The Newt cried. "Get 'him off!"
Wolf didn't hear them over the buzzing in his ears. He didn't stop hitting the boy—not when his knuckles started to ache, not when the flecks of blood started to splatter his face and blind him. He wasn't thinking about home, or about Peppy.
Even when the wave of hands tackled him and blacked his vision out, all other thoughts were blanketed by the sole urge to beat the little cockroach in his grip to a pulp.
Meanwhile, at the Cornerian Planetary Campus...
"…and it's for that reason why Olivia Hawthorne is still remembered today," Peppy said, circling the stoic marble bust of a Tawny Owl. "Without her bold strides in the field of lightspeed theory, we'd be still embarking on crude voyages that would take years to travel between planets, instead of days."
There was a chortle of enthusiasm to Peppy's voice, one that wasn't shared by the group of schoolchildren he was leading through the Academy Halls. They were all middle-school aged, sparing little interest and even less of an attention span for what the he was talking about. Most of them were staring wistfully out the long windows, the beams of sunlight pouring in only serving to remind them how much of the day was slipping by.
It wasn't boredom for everyone. Some of the students, like a young Otter Pup close to the back, were attentively scribbling down digi-notes to the Rabbit's lecture. Behind her, she heard two boys whispering.
"How much longer is the lesson's gonna go on for?" One of them sighed. "And of all the Star Fox Members to guest teach today, we got stuck with the lame one."
"He isn't lame," the Otter turned to whisper back. "He's seen more battles than you or I will ever see in our lifetime. Do you think he's on the greatest starpilot team in the galaxy for nothing?"
"Whatever," The other yawned. "I still wish we'd gotten James instead. Even Pigma's at least good for a laugh. The Rabbit's just boring."
The Otter flattened her ears. "You're boring."
It came out louder than she intended, a lot louder. The other kids looked behind at her, and even Peppy raised his eyebrows.
"Oh, my. Offering a critique on my class, are we?"
The Otter covered her mouth, face flushing. "Mr. Hare, I didn't mean—they were—I was just—"
He gave her a good-natured smile. "It's alright. Some of this stuff can be a bit too dry and dull for me, too. But trust me when I say it's all important. Exam week's gonna roll around, and you're gonna wish you'd taken digi-notes on all this." He paused as he spotted a Daschund's small hand raised in the corner. "Question, Tim?"
"I was just wondering…how much of this history stuff are we gonna be learning? I mean, shouldn't we be focusing on learning how to fly?"
Peppy twitched his whiskers bracingly. "Well, I don't wanna be the bearer of bad news or anything, but flying of any sort is a good four years away for all of you."
Instantly, the group of children let out a collective groan of disappointment, with one crying: "Are you serious? Four years before we do any flying at all?"
"Now, now, it ain't for no good reason," Peppy assured them. "Look, you should all feel great about overcoming the early trials and getting into this Academy at all. That wasn't easy to do. But starship training isn't something you're meant to do in this place…you'll be doing plenty of that at the Orbital Academy.
A Salamander's eyes became big. "Orbital Academy? You mean there's two of these schools?"
"Er, not exactly…" Peppy scratched the back of his head, as if struggling to explain it in a way that wouldn't overwhelm them. "Basically, to give you all the skills you need to become a pilot, the Academy's split into two places, that function as two separate wings of the school. All your book-learnin' on galactic history and astro-science happens here on the Planetary Academy, in our Archives and Planetarium. But all your flight practice, combat training and the like?" He pointed a gloved finger upwards. "All that happens up at the Orbital Academy. It ain't a school so much as a boot camp in space. It'll be your final proving ground in the absence of a war."
Rather than intimidate the children, Peppy's explanation made them all wide-eyed and excited.
"But why do we have to do this book stuff at all?" One child asked. "Why can't we just skip to the Orbital place? I'm ready to fly now."
Peppy smiled at him. "I bet you are. But I wouldn't get too giddy about runnin' off there, if I were you. One day of training in that place will make you beg for all these exams n' assigned readings back, believe me…" A twinge of quiet discomfort briefly creased his face, before he cleared his throat. "But enough about that. Right, now I'd like you all to turn your attention to this."
He turned his gaze towards a bronze, large-scale model of a starship hanging from the ceiling, sporting an archaic design of a bygone age, with sweeping Tychion energy sails and clunky hull stern thrusters from a time when G-Diffusers were a distant fantasy.
"As you can see, we've got lots of statues and busts in this hall, but this here's our one starship model. Can anyone tell me who the owner of this ship was, and what their importance was?"
Before even a moment of silence went by, a Beagle shot his hand up.
"Oh, I know! It was that one really legendary guy…um, Ziio of Clan Brynthall, right? He helped lead the galaxy to victory in the last war ever fought, the one our calendar's based on…the, um…Inner Something Crusade?"
"…Interstellar Crusade," Peppy corrected him. "That's only half the answer, though. Ziio's plenty famous for fighting, yes, but Lylatians didn't spend centuries makin' books and statues about him for that. It was somethin' else. Anyone know?"
The students exchanged vacant expressions, struggling to muster anything. The Rabbit frowned, thumbing at his chin patiently.
"No one? Okay, how 'bout this: Anybody know which army Ziio flew with during the war?"
One student raised his hand. "Well, the Zonetian Army, of course. He was a Bird, wasn't he? He would've been from Zoness."
"Not quite." He surveyed the room. "Any other guesses?"
Slowly, the Otter raised her hand. "It's a trick question, isn't it? He didn't fly with any army."
"Precisely!" Peppy beamed. "Ziio fought in the conflict, but not alongside any planet's army…not even his own."
"He didn't fight next to his own people?" A Student asked. "What, did he just not care about them?"
"Far from it…it was his people who chose not to fight alongside him. Y'see, during the age of the Last War, before civilization as we know it, the galaxy was a very different place. There wasn't a lick of unity between any of the races; each had little knowledge of the other, and even less trust. So, when the day came that the Venomians sparked the war with their invasion, the Avians of Zoness did the same as the rest of the galaxy...nothing. They watched the other planets fall one by one, concerned only with their own survival, ready to defend themselves when it was their turn. Ziio, on the other hand, couldn't bear resignin' more neighboring worlds to oblivion like his kin. He tried to rally 'em against the Venomians, but they all refused. So he did something remarkable—he journeyed across Lylat to form a bold team of pilots hailing from numerous worlds and flew out to fight the entire Venomian Horde."
A student stared with wide eyes. "By themselves? No fleet, no nothing?"
"No fleet, no nothin'..." Peppy stared past the bronze model ship. Even after years of reciting the same story, it was hard not to be swept by the same admiration. "The rest of the galaxy was just as stunned when they found out. It inspired them to rally their fleets together to finish what Ziio started, defeating Venom and securing peace for good…along with Ziio's place in history."
A child furrowed his eyebrows. "But…he went against his own planet. That makes him a traitor, doesn't it?"
Peppy conceded a dip of his long ears. "Some could see it that way. But a soldier's loyalties aren't always a simple matter of what planet they belong to."
"Oh, c'mon," scoffed the child. "If a war broke out tomorrow, you guys in Star Fox would fight for Corneria, right?"
"If the cause was justified," Peppy responded simply, knowing the shocked looks he'd get. "Look, I know many of you have been raised to believe that soldier's first loyalty is to Fleet and Homeworld. And there ain't nothing wrong with that. But there are times where the society and traditions around a soldier fall short of what he believes to be right…and the real betrayal would be to stand idly by." He pointed up at the model. "That's what Ziio's ship represents: fighting for the cause you were born for, even when the world says otherwise."
It was then, out of the corner of his eye, that he took notice of another adult in the room. A Corgi, standing in the far corner, attempted conspicuousness as he admired one of the statues…a Corneria Insignia pinned to his suit jacket.
Peppy turned back to the children. "Alright, that'll be it for now, gang. Study the chapters on the Katinese Liberation, I'll be in my office after hours if anyone needs help preparing for Monday's test. You can all go outside…nice and quietly, now."
Naturally, the children scampered out in full sprint, their eager chatter echoing throughout the hall. Peppy kept all wariness from reaching his eyes as the Government Official strode towards him.
"Good afternoon, Captain Hare. My name is Marley, I'm with the CDF Affairs Office...I hope I'm not interrupting."
Peppy shook his head. "Not at all, lesson's over. And please...just 'Peppy', son. I haven't been 'Captain Hare' since my fleet brat days, and those are a good twenty years and forty pounds behind me." He glanced at him. "You're a tad bit young to be running around with the suits up at HQ. You new?"
The Corgi adjusted glasses. "Recently appointed. And I just want to say what an honor it is to meet you, Capta—I mean, sir. The stories of you and the Team's exploits were something I grew up on."
Peppy looked pleasantly surprised. "Well, that's...awfully flatterin' son. What can I do for you? If it's Team business, I'm afraid James and Pigma are on leave at the moment."
"Actually, I'm here in regards to a more personal matter. The boy called Wolf O'Donnell is under your care, is he not?"
Peppy's heart sank instantly. Not now...not when he's so close to being approved for release... "Listen, whatever he's done, I can vouch for him. Are you from the Warden's office? Because I have a friend down there who can give you a file on all of Wolf's good behavior for the last—"
"Ease up, Captain. Wolf isn't in trouble," The Official assured him. "I'm here on behalf of the Office of CDF Training, Aero-Space Division—there's a government matter that's arisen regarding your boy."
He blinked. "A government inquiry? On a sixteen-year-old?"
"Yes. Upon reviewing his file, we found a few murky spots that needed clarifying. I was hoping you could help out, as his guardian." Without waiting for Peppy's consent, he pulled out a folding electronic clipboard and started consulting it. "We've already been filled in on a few details by Planetary Citizen Affairs on the unique nature of the boy's finding, and his 'special care'..."
Immediately, Peppy lowered his voice and ushered him behind a seclusive pillar. "Then they must've also told you that it's not something we want spread around the public sphere," He hissed, looking around. "…or the halls of this school."
The man dipped his head apologetically. "Believe me, Captain, we have no intention of starting a public scandal. Where you found him will remain classified, as you requested…as well the untimely demise of his parents. Which I'm told, you still haven't informed him about."
Peppy straightened. "No, and I don't plan on changin' my mind any time soon." He glared at him suspiciously. "You seem to have plenty of intel on Wolf already. What d'you need from me exactly?"
"Very well, Captain, I'll be frank." He dropped his formal tone. "You must understand the questions raised by the…unorthodoxy of this boy's case. Turning up on a desolate planet, alive with no memory of how he got there, perfectly able to speak Lylarean in spite of no feasible upbringing..." He raised his eyebrows. "That part of his profile would be strange enough by itself. But then there's the matter of how he grew up…an area which, I'm afraid, isn't as thorough as we'd like."
Immediately seeing where this was going, Peppy folded his arms barringly. "That all depends on your definition of thorough."
The Corgi smiled reassuringly. "Nothing unsavory, just a few broad questions…" He eyed the Academy walls. "I understand he was a student here, then got expelled before his transfer up to the Orbital Campus. Last thing on his record is his incarceration at the East Sub-Block Correctional Facility. I take it by the way you greeted me that he's still there."
Worming discomfort entered Peppy's stomach. "…Yes."
"And the reason for his containment, if I may ask? The file doesn't specify an event in particular."
"It wasn't just one event…" Peppy muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets lamentingly. "He was mounting infractions the whole time he was here. When he finally breached the limit last year, the state intervened."
The Official tapped his clipboard. "…and what's troubling the boy specifically? 'Acts of aggression' and 'problems with authority' are a bit vague."
Peppy hesitated. "Wolf's had trouble...adjusting. You gotta understand, he came from a different environment than these other boys. The cautiousness, the survival instincts, the distrust...try as we might, we never fully got 'em out of his system." He looked off distantly. "James, Pigma n' I were bent on givin' him a proper upbringing, but, well..." His voice trailed off into a tired sigh. "I guess it was easier said than done."
"You were attempting primary socialization with him, correct?" The Official asked. "That parenting process of teaching children the cues and norms to blend in society…although his was happening at age nine instead of three."
Peppy's eyes fell to the clipboard. "I see you've been seeing Wolf's psychologist."
"Not personally. Just his extensive notes…" The Corgi consulted the monochrome screen. "The aggression and authority problems…were they present while you were raising him?"
"No, no. He was fine at home—" Peppy insisted. "He learned things fast, got along with my Lucy, played away those first few years like any other kid; even got admitted here at the Planetary Academy when he was twelve. We thought we'd finally achieved resilience, gotten him to develop normally in spite of everything he went through on Venom, until…"
His affectionate smile faded. The Official cleared his throat expectantly. "…until?"
"We decided to trade in home school for actual school..." Peppy's voice hollowed. "And everything spilled out. Too much and too fast, around the other kids."
The Corgi tilted his head. "Because of the other kids, you mean."
Peppy paused. "...Yes. He stuck out, in spite of all we did to help him blend in. Even though the other children had no idea about where he was really from, they could tell he was different…and they homed in on it."
"Sounds like the average affair at school. Nothing abnormal about being jostled around by other children…"
Peppy stiffened. "Yes, but there was one part of that equation that wasn't normal: Wolf havin' spent the first decade of his life alone, in a wasteland where he never had to restrain himself. So havin' others gang up on him, even for somethin' as harmless as a laugh at his expense…he wouldn't react to it well. He'd misinterpret things you n' I could shake off, react a lot more strongly than other kids would.
"We quickly realized we hadn't socialized him as well as we thought. We raced to work with him while he was attending, but one thing led to another...incidents with other boys grew, infractions piled up...finally, the School Board wouldn't stand for it anymore. I tried to keep him out of Juvenile Confinement, but...they said it would be bias if I were to intervene." The Rabbit's voice shambled helplessly. "And things were just starting to turn around for him. He was finally fittin' in with the new home we'd given him...I'd never seen him that happy."
In the reflection of the monochrome screen, the Corgi's eyebrows arched above his glasses. "When you say that the problems started at school, are you referring to that 'incident' when he was twelve?"
A bolt of alarm straightened Peppy up. "What incident?
"According to this, he had an emotional episode with another boy at this Academy, one that caused him to enter irregular fits of silence; wouldn't speak a word to other children for three years." He fixed a shrewd gaze on him. "All of the clashes with other children started after that, including the one that got him expelled last year…but the case file doesn't disclose any details on the incident itself. What exactly happened?"
Peppy narrowed eyes immediately. He fortified his voice with a steely tone. "If you really got that file from Citizen Affairs, you'd know all details relating to that incident are classified. We got a guarantee of confidentiality for what happened. And I won't be handing out sensitive information like candy, it's all the same to you...Wolf's suffered enough without that incident getting out."
"Easy, Captain. No offense meant, just verifying what I've been given." The Corgi folded his glasses away. "I must confess, his physiological and mental growth is unlike anything I've ever seen. Is the boy...mentally unwell?"
Peppy's long ears sank with an exasperated sigh, hating every instance where he had to answer that question. "Goodness, no. Nothin' like that. It's just, his survivalist instincts never really turned off; all those years in the caves fendin' for himself groomed a lot of aggressive impulses and emotional instability…both of which would come out in full force, whenever he'd get picked on or harassed. Even after years of us trying, it kept on getting him into trouble." He looked up determinedly. "But it ain't anything he can help. He's a good boy."
"Hmm. He's being released today, right?"
"I don't know. It depends if he's on the approved list." There was a tired prayer in his voice, before he directed it back at him. "What's the point of all this, son? Are all these questions leadin' somewhere, or what?"
Smiling almost on queue, the Official slipped his fingers into his jacket. "Well, being a Teacher here at the Planetary Academy, I'm certain that you're well aware of the admission procedure—the reflex tests, the high velocity resistance assessments—everything we've been offering children with flight potential since the invention of holographic simulators."
"You're giving a history lesson to someone who teaches 'em, son. What does this have to do with Wolf?"
"He took those same tests to get approved here, with…adequate results. After he was suspended and sent to rehabilitation, we weren't considering him for any future in our fleet. However…"
Peppy's eyebrows launched.
His fingers produced a folded piece of paper. "Well, about two months ago, the CDF decided to administer a Recreational Flight Test Program to Youth Centers like the one O'Donnell's currently at. We offer the program to any boys with improving behavioral records and willingness to try out our latest simulation programs. Wolf was the only ex-student in his facility, so we were expecting a decent score from him…but only just. Then his results came in this morning." He proudly held them up. "He topped all competing scores combined."
"...what?" Peppy took the paper hastily. "This can't be right. He came out on top of all the boys in the facility?"
"Not all the boys; all fifteen facilities we examined."
The Rabbit was speechless, his maroon eyes scanning the document to re-affirm it for himself.
"As you can see, sir, the CDF has plenty of reason to re-ignite our interest in Wolf's potential. And we'd like to reinstate his status as an Academy student, with full entry to the Orbital Academy for his final training." He stopped himself with a cough. "…with yours and his other guardians' consent, of course."
The paper lowered in Peppy's hand. "Wow. I'll be damned, that's just..." Then, he paused curiously. "I wasn't made aware of these…whatcha call 'em? 'Recreational Test Programs'? Since when does the Defense Force dip their hands into juvenile centers for new recruits?"
"We at the Defense Fleet feel that, with the galaxy having been at peace for so long, there's no need to maintain such a high barrier of entry into the Flight Academy," declared the Corgi proudly, who seemed to have rehearsed all this a little too well. "Lylat's in a different time now, and as Cornerians, we want to extend our reach for new candidates. With no battlefield to pluck them from, we'll have to scour more broadly for this generation's best pilots, starting with opening the Academy to those with less...privileged backgrounds. Orphanages, group homes, adoption shelters, even juvenile facilities brimming with youngsters wanting another chance…or in the case of your Wolf, students whose futures were cut short by ill-advised decisions. Anyone who shows the right kind of potential is worth considering for our fleet. We're even willing to reduce their tuition by letting them bypass the Planetary Academy and go straight to the Orbital Academy."
Peppy frowned. "That's awfully considerate of you."
"I'm pleased you agree, sir."
"But I have to ask: why is the CDF doing this now?" Peppy asked.
The Corgi's broad, commercial-esque smile faded into confusion. "Sir?"
"The Fleet's never shown any interest in expanding the school's reach whenever James and I have asked for it in the past. We've been turned down every time. And there's no sudden shortage of students coming in every year. So, what brought this on?"
Ears still flicking confusion, the Corgi straightened up. "Progress, Captain Hare. It's bound to happen sooner or later. I'm certain the Heads of the Fleet came to that realization as well. We have to start considering children's potential outside of where we normally look. Simple as that."
There wasn't any dishonesty in the man's face, at least as far as Peppy could tell. He dismissed it, looking back at the paper in his hand with some lingering doubt.
"So you're just willing to take 'em? Regardless of their...background?"
"If you're worried about Wolf, I can assure you...don't. The CDF is aware of your boy's troubling record, Captain Ha-er, Peppy. Suspension from the Academy and a Rehabilitation Sentence isn't something we take lightly, no matter how brief."
Peppy looked up. "But?"
"But we're willing to overlook both in light of the boy's undeniable skill," admitted the Corgi. "These are rare and unexpected circumstances...and the CDF is willing to enroll Wolf under an anonymous record, given a special condition is met."
"What condition?"
Just as the eagerness and desperation was overwhelming Peppy, a beeping noise from under his sleeve went off. He pulled it back and thumbed the switch on his wrist-comm hastily, only for a garbled voice to crackle through.
"This is Sherman from the East Sub-Block Facility 62B—is the frequency of one of Wolf O'Donnell's guardians?"
He instantly felt the glow of good news and streaming daylight through the windows falter. "…Yes, this is Peppy Hare. Has something happened with Wolf?"
"I think you'd better get down here, sir. There's been an episode with another boy…again."
By the time the guards had finally shown up, the fight had dragged out to an exhaustive length…by which time, Wolf's face had been reduced to a battered mess. Head lulling over the disciplinary room's table where he was cuffed, he strained to make out his face in the filthy mirror adjacent to him. Two streams of blood gushed from his nose like a faucet, striping down and dripping off his chin. Cuts and puffy welts collaged his cheeks, while a particularly fat bruise circled his eye like rubber. He couldn't make out the rest of the damage with how the swelling burnt his foggy eyes, but he could feel it. The unrelenting cold air stung all raw spots, barely keeping him awake.
The sound of the slide door drew his weary glance, barely making out the pear-shaped object that walked in, with its white jacket and cozy maroon eyes.
His face lit up upon seeing Peppy, before he caught sight of that stony expression that always came before a biting lecture, and he realized why he was here. He lowered his gaze back down.
"The guards told me about the scuffle you got into," said Peppy. "You wanna tell me how all this came about?"
Wolf didn't answer, biting a response under his mouth and staring off into the wall.
The Rabbit's eyes were locked on him sternly. "Wolf, look at me. What happened?"
Again, no answer. Peppy yanked a chair out and sat across from him, placing himself where the boy couldn't ignore him forever.
"You said you wouldn't do this again, Wolf. I don't know what this is; the third or the fourth time that I've had you moved to some new part of the facility, with new cell mates that don't know you, on the promise that you wouldn't start anything again...that you'd change." There was a dose of hurt in his voice. "Were you just lying to me when you said all that? Just so you could get off easy?"
Wolf felt a stab of discomfort, eyes still refusing to meet him. He could've told him the truth about what happened, what had made him tackle the other boy…but he didn't have the heart to repeat any of the things the Sparrow had said about Peppy. Not to his face.
Perceiving his silence as more of his usual defiance, Peppy stiffened. "I don't know who you're trying to impress with the moody silence. There's no one here to show off to. And you've shown off plenty with the spectacle you made out there."
"I wasn't showing off." A spike of anger loosened Wolf's voice. "You don't know why I did it."
"Because there's not a justifiable reason for what you did," said Peppy flatly. "There never is, and never will be. I thought time in here would've taught you that by now."
Wolf already knew where this was going. He kept his eyes swerved to the side. "…Save it. I don't need another lecture."
Peppy folded his arms. "Well, you're going to hear it anyway. I have stuck up for you non-stop, tried to give you every shot at improving, at getting you out of here...and all you've done is throw it back into my face. It's like you don't even care."
Guilt squirmed in Wolf's stomach. It was taking all his restraint not to blurt out what actually happened.
"Look at me, Wolf," demanded Peppy.
Wolf sighed around the sting in his mouth, his bruised eye wandering back to him.
"Is this going to be the way things are going to be between us?" The Rabbit's voice buried into him like a hatchet. "You getting into trouble, and me fishing you out? Me prostrating myself to Teachers and Wardens to keep you out of the isolation hall, promising all kinds of good behavior, while you start a fight with every boy in sight? Do you want to spend the rest of your adolescence behind bars?"
"You're talking like I didn't try to get out of here!" Wolf snapped. "You have any idea hard I worked to keep a spotless record, to be on good behavior? I did everything...and that STILL wasn't good enough! But that little shitstain and all of his friends, THEY get to leave...while I stay behind and rot. How the hell is that fair?!"
"You can't act like your leagues better after what you've done," Peppy said coldly. "You sent that boy to the hospital with most of his teeth missing—"
"I would've removed all of them, if those other cretins hadn't stepped in," Wolf cut over him savagely. "Maybe then he'd think twice before flapping his gums about things he doesn't understand."
"So that's what all of this was over? An insult?" Peppy stared at him incredulously. "You got in a fight like this over your bruised ego…?"
Realizing he said too much, Wolf shrank back in his chair, turning his gaze back to the wall.
"Unbelievable. Two years in this place, and you haven't changed a bit." Peppy's voice was layered with uncharacteristically bitter disappointment. "I'd have thought you'd have spent this time working hard to better yourself. You promised me you would."
Wolf growled quietly. "I stood my ground and didn't let them walk all over me…I'm not going to apologize for that." He glared at him. "You may be used to lying down and taking it, but I'm not."
Peppy swelled. The way he angrily twitched his nose might have been funny if not for the bitter exchange. "I won't be made the enemy here. You know standing your ground isn't an option…you're not like other kids! When someone pushes you, you don't push back…you maim. Which is why I keep telling you to avoid confrontations, even if you refuse to listen…"
It was taking all of Wolf's restraint not to turn those last words against him. He stared at the wall, feeling his agitation bubble. He already knew what Peppy would've done in his place, spending everyday having the other boys probe and pick at him like a scab…and that was precisely nothing.
And knowing that infuriated Wolf.
"I know how you feel," Peppy continued. "I know how might temptin' it is to hit back at people who deserve it, how good it feels in the moment… " His eyebrows locked together sternly. "But there are times where it's better to just take the fall n' keep going. Take the harassment or blows in stride, instead of makin' the situation worse…or turn it into a bloodbath. You never even entertain that as an option, and that's the problem. Even back in the Academy, you'd—"
Finally, Wolf exploded. "None of that crap works down here, that's the problem!" He shouted over the Rabbit. "You don't get it, do you? You live in that comfy bubble where you think if you're nice to everybody and turn the other cheek all the time, no one will ever bother you! You will stand there and let people kick dirt in your face, and you won't even fight back. It's useless, stupid, and you're too stubborn to see it! That's why everyone—"
He stopped suddenly. He had almost let it out: That's why everyone makes fun of you.
Peppy blinked. "That's why everyone what?"
It was an awful moment when Wolf gave a pained look to the oblivious Rabbit, guilt lodged in his throat.
"…Nothing. Forget it." He let out a frustrated sigh. "Look, there's no point in arguing about this. It won't what happened today, or that I didn't make the Parole…" His head slid apologetically. "…or that I let you down again."
A sympathetic look melted Peppy's stern expression. It was already out of character for Wolf to back out of an argument; but now he had abandoned all pride and was wearing his defeated expression openly, too emotionally drained to care.
"…I know I'm always letting you down, Peppy. Always making a new mess for you, even when I don't mean to." His voice sank. "M'sorry there's never any good news whenever you come to visit…"
It took some effort for Peppy to keep the smile from reaching his face. "I wouldn't be too sure of that, bud."
"Oh? How's that?" Wolf grumbled dubiously.
"Believe it or not, you actually did something right while you were here…" He slid the paper on the table under Wolf's nose. "Something that caught the attention of some people up at the Cornerian Defense Fleet."
His bruised eye lingered over the paper for a stunted second, before his head jerked up.
"The Fleet? Who—?"
"I didn't come down here just to lecture you, Wolf." He straightened, face glowing. "I'm here to get you outta here…get you ready to head to the Orbital Flight Academy tomorrow."
Wolf's expression immediately collapsed, his mouth dropping open. "W…What?! But—why, how—?"
"Someone up at CDF Command saw you take a spin in that flight sim a few weeks back. They think you have a lot of untapped talent, and that it'd be an awful waste to let it rot behind bars. In fact, they're so convinced of your potential to become an asset to the Fleet, they're willing to overlook all your past behavior and give you another chance to prove yourself."
It took a few electrifying moments for Wolf to take it all in, a glimmer of hope breaking out on his face for the first time in years.
"Really? T-They said that?"
"Hold up—" Peppy planted a hand on the approval form. "Don't get giddy just yet. You're not gettin' off scott-free. They're letting you into the Orbital Academy knowin' full well that you got expelled from its Planetary counterpart, so they'll be watching for even an ounce of your old behavior. You put one toe or even a whisker outta line, and they'll send you back here in a heartbeat. And to make sure you don't...they've demanded a condition to be met if you're gonna attend."
Wolf's chair screeched with how quickly he sat up in it. "What? What do they need me to do? I'll do anything!"
Peppy paused, preparing to ease him into what was coming. "Stuff like this...like today, like the incident that landed you in here...none of this can happen over there. So…"
"Believe me, I'd love to just be able to blend in and avoid any trouble…but it's never that easy," Wolf said hastily. "But this time, I'll get it right. I'll—"
"That's not what the condition is. I've been told what we need is a change of leadership, so to speak. A firmer hand." His whiskers wavered sheepishly. "I've never believed that a firm hand is what's needed to nudge a boy in the right direction, but…it's possible that during your time with me that I might've coddled you a bit. And that's not what's needed to help you grow or improve." He paused bracingly. "So, while you're at the Academy, you're going to be under James' custody, not mine. That's the condition."
"…Oh." Wolf's voice noticeably changed. "Does James know about this whole arrangement?" His brow raised skeptically. "And did he puke his guts out when he heard it?"
"Look, I know you n' James aren't fond of each other," Peppy admitted. "But maybe James will succeed where I haven't in getting you to improve."
"Are you sure about that? He couldn't even be bothered to turn up here in the two years I've been here."
It was Peppy's turn to lock up in uncomfortable silence. "Look, I know you two didn't exactly leave on good terms after that argument back home. I don't condone some o' the things said, but…" He swallowed before belting out the same, tired mantra. "But however strict he is, he has your best interests in mind."
Wolf let out a bloody snort.
"And anyway, he'll be acting as your instructor like everyone else attending classes…which, I'm sure he won't object to. That way, nothing will get personal between you both. And that's where you come in." He sighed deeply, shutting his eyes. "Wolf, you've got to promise me that you won't start anything with him while you're there."
Wolf rolled his eyes, muttering. "I won't if he doesn't."
"This isn't about whatever quarrels you've had in the past…it's about the CDF, watching you both. Mark my words, the rules about confrontations apply to being with him, too. You gotta show some self-control under James, reel that anger in. Whatever happens, no matter what anybody says or does to provoke you…you shrug it off and stay in line."
"But what if James—?" Wolf began protesting.
Peppy pinned his sentence with a gloved finger. "'But', nothing. You steer clear of any fights or arguments that come your way, no matter who it's from. If James acts a bit harsh, you're going to need to suck it up. Save all that pent up impulse for the cockpit, and keep it there. Got it?"
Wolf grumbled something unintelligible, suddenly becoming less and less enamored with this arrangement.
Peppy leaned forward. "Wolf, this isn't just about what the CDF wants, or Academy rules. I'm saying all this for you. You're gonna be around other kids. Regular kids."
"You mean 'normal'?"
"You know that's not what I meant," said Peppy firmly. "We've talked about this. You're as good as any other kid, bud…even a little special in your own way. But the rest of the world just isn't ready for someone like you. And no matter how special you are to me, everyone else might not see the good qualities you have…just the things that make you different. These other kids didn't grow up in a cave, don't see a threat around every corner or in every shadow like you do. They didn't grow up like you did, and they'll just assume on first glance that you're one of them—and you need to feed that assumption by leaving all this savagery and antsy behavior in this cell." His maroon eyes dropped their stern façade and fixed on him pleadingly. "You have to mind how you conduct yourself…for me. Can you do that for me, bud?
Wolf hesitated. After today's incident, he wasn't sure if he could keep that promise, even to himself. Nevertheless, he gave a half-hearted nod for the Rabbit's sake, who rose to his feet.
"Good. Now, let's get you home. Lucy's off-planet, so we got the house back to ourselves." He offered a small smile. "There's some cold pizza in the fridge. Looks to me like you could use some…"
He watched Wolf stand up dazedly and almost topple over, prompting him to rush over and hoist him up.
"…oof, maybe some stitches, too."
Wolf mumbled. "…Pizza first." He creaked his head up, eyeing him through a bruised eyelid. And Peppy…thanks. For, y'know…not bailing out on me all these years. You didn't give up on me once…I'll make it up to you, someday."
Peppy reached up to ruffle the fur between his ears like he used to, a much harder task with how tall Wolf was getting. "Hey, I always knew you could do it. What do I always say?"
Despite his bruises and swollen nose, Wolf cracked a weary smirk. "'A well-timed barrel roll can get you out of any mess?'"
Peppy rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of—You're just like one o' my students. I say that one time during a lesson, and I never hear the end of it." He sighed exasperatedly. "The OTHER thing."
Wolf half-smiled. "'Don't give up hope till the flight is over…and you've got plenty of flyin' to do'."
He lightly clapped him on the shoulder. "Always remember that…'specially where you're going. In some ways, that stubbornness o' yours is your worst quality…but like I always say, it's also your best. You can make it the best part of you, use it to push yourself. Believe me, there's gonna be days when those Academy folks will wanna fly every hot-headed ounce of confidence outta you, make every day a challenge. But it'll be up to you to meet it…to become the pilot I know you can be." He beamed winningly. "Heck, when you graduate, I'll bet you'll be able to fly circles around even me."
Wolf chuckled around a battered cough. "Pfft, no. No matter what I pull, I'm not gonna surpass the best.
"Well…you probably won't impress 'em on your first day like I did," Peppy admitted, suppressing a sly look "Speakin o' which, did I ever tell you that story?"
Taking solace in his cozy voice like an old chair, Wolf smiled. "Only about a hundred times. But I'm sure there's a detail you've left out."
His mind drifted as the Rabbit chortled on, relaxing on his shoulder. Things were finally starting to look up.