Disclaimer: I don't own Starfox or any of the characters, places, or so on that tie in to that. However, I do own this story, and I own all that entails with it, such as made up characters, places, and events. This story takes place when Fox is 22, which in relation to the game is four years after the defeat of Andross. After those fateful wars, Fox's health slowly went down hill, as he developed epilepsy it can start up any time at any age. Enjoy, this is my first try at the horror genre.
To find peace, one must seek it. To find love, one must fall. To find me, one must find hell. -Fox
Chapter 1: Hell is What You Make of It
'Hell', Fox thought to himself, looking aimlessly out the window of his parent's old house. Who knew that a place that used to hold such fond memories, would now be the embodiment of that ideal.
He didn't, but then again, he really hadn't wanted to return to this house either. It was welcoming in the past, yet now had a sense of foreboding to it. He didn't want to stay, but he didn't want to appear like a child to his friends, a child that would go crawling to their houses late at night, whining because of a shadow cast on the wall that had frightened him. He slowly turned his gaze into the home; it still looked the way it did the day his parents died. He couldn't believe that the bank hadn't informed him of papers to sign in order for him to legally procure the house. He remembered, with a small laugh, how he'd found out rather by mistake. After all, who goes to the bank to get a loan, and finds out they have a house (and mortgage) waiting for them?
Fox shuddered slightly, his wandering mind returning to the present, and was almost sure he felt some one staring at him, that burning feeling you get when an unknown body has fixed their eyes upon you. He relented to his fears for a moment before the phone rang, sending a jolt of surprise through his body. He picked up the receiver, and tried to cover the almost obvious fear in his voice. "Hello?"
"Hey, man, I've been calling for half an hour, where were you?" Falco's boisterous voice came out over the receiver. Fox felt a sweep of relief come over his being when he heard that obnoxious bird. "You're not weirding out on us again, are you?"
"No, just busy...unpacking. So, when are you all coming over?"
"Here shortly. This is going to be on heck of a party for you, man," Falco's voice broke off as, from what Fox could tell, yelled at someone who had apparently taken the last of his favorite beer. Curse words flew about between his avian friend and, what sounded like, and old woman. It was Fox's birthday, and all his friends were coming over to celebrate it as well as a house-warming party. Why not tackle two in one, was their philosophy. Fox casually glanced at the living room, how wide and spacious it was, at least twenty by fifteen. It had a high-rise ceiling, a direct result of the design of the upstairs. The floor was hardwood, with a five by five carpet in the foyer. The kitchen was to the left, just a doorway to alert you to it's presence. A modest living room was just to the right of the front door, it's doorway next to the landing of the stairways, with had a slight slope in the center of it's steps (overuse). Two bedrooms took up that second floor, the way the staircase and banister were, as soon as you hit the top of the stairs, you turned left and walked ten feet before coming upon the first bedroom. Then you walk another ten feet, turn left again, and walk for twenty feet before the doorway to what had been Mr. and Mrs. McCloud's room. Each walkway was about four feet across (ample room for young kits to play tag on), with hardwood floors and long, cheap rugs with designs meant to fool one into thinking they were more than thirty years old.
"Hey, you haven't had any more of those seizures, have you?" Falco asked seemingly nonchalantly, but concern was clearly being suppressed. Fox had developed epilepsy shortly after his fight against Andross, unaware that it wouldn't be his last time fighting the huge Ape-head. Doctors suggested it might have been the strain, or genetics. None of Fox's relatives had been alive, so testing blood samples wouldn't have merited them results. He was prescribed anti-convulsive medications, on the strict instructions to take a dosage every eight hours, but Fox being the young kit that he was, figured missing some medications every now and again wouldn't really do any damage. The last time he'd ventured to do this, though, he had the biggest one of all. Slippy had tried to restrain him, injuring Fox in the process. As a precaution, should anyone suppress his body again, his doctor gave him painkillers and syringes, which Peppy made him put in the drawer, under the phone, along the right wall of the foyer.
"Falco, I'm fine, don't worry. I've been taking my meds, and I feel great," he lied through his teeth. Now that he thought of it, his face had tweaked once or twice. 'Let's see, the doctor said to take the anticonvulsive medications every 8 hours. Hmmmm...when did I last take it?'
Falco's voice broke his concentration. "Well, we just have to tie up some loose ends here, and we'll be right along. See ya, fluffy. –Hey, I said those are mine!"
" Yeah, yeah, later, bird brains." At the end of the conversation (and some chuckles at Falco's expense), Fox had forgotten what it was he had been apprehensive about. The house seemed a little less intimidating now that he had heard a familiar voice. But, just as he set aside his fear, another voice came over the phone, one he'd never heard before. It laughed in an unbearable high pitched voice, and, what actually sounded more like screeching, said, "I will find you, you can't hide..."
"What?"
Peppy's stern voice was now on the phone, "I said, don't forget to clean up the place a little. Who knows how filthy it is."
" Oh, I thought...never mind. Yeah, I'll clean up a little." Fox ran his hand through his white stripe on his head, surely he'd heard correctly, some weird screeching, or maybe it was an over worked imagination. He carried on the conversation for a few more minutes, said his goodbyes, and hung up the phone and proceeded to the kitchen. He noticed something was amiss in the room, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. Fox reached out his hand to grab his cigarettes on the table, when a red droplet landed on his extended limb. He was completely startled by this. He checked his hand, turning it over. Another droplet hit his palm. He decided to further inspect the unknown substance by rubbing his fingers of the other hand in it.
' What the...' he thought, as he figured out what this liquid drop was. "Paint?" He hadn't been painting anywhere, especially not in red. He looked up to the ceiling, and saw nothing. No evidence what so ever of the source of the red paint. Drip drop. Some more droplets hit the ground. 'They seem to be coming from the ceiling..' Fox thought to himself, and proceeded upstairs to investigate this oddity. He would've liked to turn tail and run, but what would he say to the others? 'Oh, why am I running and screaming? Some paint landed on my hand.'
Well, that's it for chapter 1. Sorry that it's short. R&R please.
