Chapter 6: Broken
If I had only acted on my suspicions, this might all have been avoided. —Peppy
The sun had started setting only a few minutes ago, casting an orange glow into the room.
Trembling, Falco let go of Fox, and headed for the phone. He had to get an ambulance there, fast. His body language conveyed reluctance as he left his friend's side, keeping his eyes on him until he reached the phone on the table. He had to carefully step over the contents of the first aid kit. He thought about how he'd need some medical service too, when he felt the wound on the side of his head earlier while Fox explained what'd happened. It hadn't been hurting that bad, but still would need to be checked. A movement caught his eye just as his hand was upon the phone, though. His initial reaction was to freeze, then he turned his head cautiously. A cat was leaning nonchalantly against the wall by the kitchen doorway, eyeing the vulpine laying almost straight on the floor. Greg turned his head back to Falco, and jerked his head towards Fox as a sinister smile spread across his muzzle, "You must admit, I did a good job on that one."
Falco glared at the apparition, clenching his fists, ready if he was hostile, "Who the hell are you?"
The cat lowered his head for a moment and sighed. He looked back up and into Falco's eyes, then sternly said, "I'm Gregory Leggett. I believe you've heard of me, so further explanations aren't necessary."
"So, then, all Fox had said was true…….you did all this…." He pointed first to Slippy and Peppy, his shoulder, and then to Fox. His gaze lingered on the latter, making sure that the rising and falling of the chest wasn't going to recede any time soon.
"Bravo. I was curious when all this would register with you. But, I can't take all the credit, you did some good damage all on your own, so..." Greg applauded loudly, still smirking at him. Falco felt his rage boiling to the top. He couldn't believe the audacity of this cat. He wanted desperately to kick this guy's ass, but what with him being transparent, it wouldn't have done anything except tire him.
"Fox told me you needed a body to leave this place," He glanced around, giving a wide gesture with his hands," so then why are you trying to kill us…….why'd you kill Slippy?"
"Slippy? —Oh, you mean that toad. Well, your orange friend here refused to aid me, so I used the toad to try and convince him. But, he's stubborn—," Greg, with his hands clasped reservedly behind his back, kicked off the wall and stepped closer to Fox, peering at the pained, distant look on his face. Falco moved quickly and appeared in front of Greg, obviously not willing to allow him any closer. Greg met his gaze, with a calm one,"—like his father."
Falco returned the stare with one of contempt. He couldn't figure out why he was incapacitating Fox, if he needed him so badly.
Vaguely aware of what was happening, Fox uncontrollably started coughing very heavily. His whole body arched and his hands shook as some droplets of blood flew out of his mouth, landing on the floor or his face. He used most of his remaining strength to turn on his side. All the blood that had pooled in his throat came pouring out while he continued coughing. Falco had crouched to his side by now, holding Fox steady while he finished. Not much blood came out, but if had felt like a lot to him. Fox looked up; his face had a disoriented look, like he'd just woken up from a mid-afternoon nap. He wanted to get up now; his eyesight had cleared while Falco and Greg were talking, although his hearing wasn't caught up yet. Everything had a minor echo, but he knew it'd be gone in minutes. He grabbed Falco's hands, and started to pull himself up. His teeth were gritted, and a pained look were etched in his countenance.
Falco was relieved that Fox was feeling well enough to stand. He would've made him lie back down, but what the cat said was true. He was immensely stubborn. Although the avian didn't think it wise to do so, he helped him up to his feet, slinging Fox's arm over his shoulder and holding on to his wrist, and wrapped one of his arms around his friend's small waist. This was an odd spectacle to see, because Fox was a whole foot shorter than Falco, so the bird had to stoop in order to pull this off. The dazed look hadn't really left Fox's features as he leaned against Falco.
"Well, this is really touching. But I've got business to tend to, so if you don't mind…" He used the same invisible force as earlier to lift Falco in the air, and throw him into the living room. He crashed violently into a table. He didn't move after that, knocked out. Fox had fallen against the wall behind him, cursing Greg while trying to make his way unsuccessfully to his fallen teammate. Gregory jutted out one of his hands in Fox's direction. Simultaneously, tendrils came from the walls again, and dug two into his back, one in each shoulder, and one in his wounded leg. The tendrils were carefully guided so as not to hit anything vital. The force of the things entering his body had forced him onto his knees. He screamed loudly and sickeningly. It would've made stomachs turn had anyone conscious been within earshot.
When the screaming had given way to whimpers and groans, Greg stepped closer, examining his face, " You know, this looks familiar. Ah, yes, I believe we did this not even three hours ago. You remember what happened then, don't you?" A groan was the only thing that came from Fox's bent head, "Now, then, if you don't cooperate, then I'll just have to kill that old one and that damn bird—"
Fox had raised his head quickly, "Touch them, and I'll…I'll..."
"You'll what? Kill me? Don't make me laugh." The tendrils dug deeper now, twisting around inside of him. More yelps, louder than the first round, emitted from his throat. An angry look came over him, but Gregory knew that it was only to hide how much he was hurting. The apparition grew more impatient, "You seem to not respond well to pain, Mr.McCloud. Perhaps I've been attacking this all wrong."
A snap of the finger, and Falco's body arched. He screamed and cried out in pain, writhing about. Fox tried to lunge for Greg, but was held fast in place by the tendrils. The wailing and writhing didn't seem to have an end in sight. He didn't want to submit to this menace, but he couldn't handle this. He didn't care if he was tortured for his friend's sake, but he never allowed it when it was the other way around. He yelled for Greg to stop. The whole house was suddenly quiet. Falco was still, apparently, writhing and screaming, only Fox couldn't hear him, or anything, except the clacking of military boots getting closer to him and the snap of his fingers, signaling the tendrils to turn loose. The holes that they'd left were barely an inch around. He stuck out his hands to stop the fall, and used that time to catch his breath. Fox was surprised by the sight of the spirits boots coming to a stop right in front of him. He looked up to see the cat standing over him with his arms crossed, waiting for Fox to say something.
Greg noticed how much older Fox looked for a twenty two year old. He had a very tired look in his eyes, his face showed years of stress and strain. And that subtle depressed look hung in his eyes, the same it does in anyone's eyes that've suffered immensely and needlessly. For a moment, Greg almost felt bad for how he was handling him, but reaffirmed himself that it had to be done.
Fox tilted his head back, and closed his eyes and wearily realized, 'I can't fight it anymore. Too many have been hurt on my account.' He reopened his eyes, looking anywhere but Greg's face, "Stop hurting him. I won't fight anymore. Just, please, leave them out of this." His voice was very calm when he uttered these words. The sun had set, and the night reigned. Greg used his power to turn on the lights, which didn't shine brightly. It was more of a soft glow, which made the interior of the house look charming, despite what was true.
A look of triumph came over his features as he uncrossed his arms. The sound of Falco screaming immediately came back to Fox's perked ears, but then started to die down at the snap of Greg's fingers. Falco blinked, and sat up, unaware of what'd just happened. He looked at his body, checking it for injury, but found nothing. The bird looked up to see Fox on his knees looking at someone beyond Falco's field of vision, in the inner part of the foyer. He got up, still checking for any new wounds he'd have to have treated, and started walking towards his friend to help him up off the ground. He didn't really remember how he'd gotten into the living room, only vague images of Greg standing in front of them, looking down on Fox, and seeing a table in front of him approaching very quickly. He also remembered hearing himself screaming bloody murder, and watching himself writhe and arch his body. Falco had seen it all like it was a movie playing before his eyes, feeling every flash of blinding agony. He drove that from his mind when he was almost upon Fox, but he turned his head to see Greg sneering at him, but he didn't say or do anything. Falco didn't understand.
"Fox, what's going on? Fox?" Falco looked at his friend. Fox wasn't making eye contact, and looked like he'd just heard the worst news imaginable. Falco looked from apparition to friend, trying to figure out what was going on, when it dawned on him. He dropped to his knees quickly, grabbing the fox by his upper arms and pulling him within a foot of himself, sounded like a parent who knew his kid had done wrong, but was trying to get the child to confess before punishment, "Fox, tell me you didn't do what I think you did…"
No answer, just deafening silence. Fox did everything he could to keep from having to look at the blue avian. He didn't want to have to bear seeing disappointment in his eyes.
Falco's temper rose uncontrollably, he knew why Fox had agreed. Fox, by then, had brought up his hands defensively, lowly whimpering. The avian roughly and very violently shook Fox, shouting, "No! Not for me! Damn you, you idiot! Not for me! I could've handled it!" At that point, Fox had turned his head towards Falco's, and looked up into his eyes. Falco was surprised by his expression, one he'd rarely and hated to witness: Fear.
The avian didn't know why that look was on his face; either because Falco was being too rough with him, or the idea of being possessed and killing his own father was a little too much for him. It made him nauseous to see this on Fox; it just wasn't natural. That vulpine was known throughout the system (and surrounding ones) for his fearlessness. Whether he was in harm's way, or facing certain death, he'd never relented to fear; soldiers, mercenaries, and cadets had exemplified him because of it.
Falco loosened his grip on Fox; a stunned expression consumed his countenance. Fox looked down. That look that repulsed Falco was still abounding on his own face. Greg stepped closer, still sneering, reveling in all that had just occurred, but mostly in getting Fox to fear him. Mr. Leggett remembered how the captain hadn't shown fear earlier, despite all he saw. It was more shock and determination to get out. It could've been mistaken as fear, but wasn't so pleasing as the real thing.
"Well, now, Mr. Lombardi, are you quite finished?"
He slowly looked from the fox to the cat, "You bastard!" He got up quickly, running to attack him, hurt him anyway he could. Falco passed right threw him while throwing a powerful punch, falling to the floor. He turned from his stomach to his back to see Greg turn into a cloud of black, nearly tangible smoke, wafting in that spot for a moment. It hastily flew forward, not slowing down as it bombarded into Fox's chest quickly, causing his arms to be thrown out violently to his sides while he turned his head up at a 45 degree angle and yelled. The large cloud of smoke was gone in a matter of seconds. When the last of the smoke was in Fox, he started to roughly shake, his head still slightly upturned. Falco had managed to get up, shouting, "No!" and ran to Fox's side with determination. But he couldn't stop it; he was powerless to help his best friend. And that horrible sinking feeling was worse than seeing fear on his captain's face.
Then, all was still. Fox stopped shaking, keeping his head in that position, with his eyes closed. Falco took some sharp breaths, and looked around. No sign of anything. Peppy stirred in the kitchen, moaning and rolling over. Falco eyed Fox, who showed no signs of moving anytime soon, just breathing. The bird decided it'd be ok (or safer for him) to leave his side for a moment, to help Pep.
Grumbling and rubbing his throat, Peppy had managed to stand halfway up when Falco entered the kitchen. He deftly grabbed the old man's arms, helping him up the rest of the way. Slippy had been lying next to him, face down. Falco didn't want to have to explain that one. Peppy looked around, and realized where he was.
"I must've had more to drink than I thought," He caught a glimpse of the outside world through a window, seeing it was nearly totally dark, except for the light from the full moon being cast around the area. The shadows out in the yard made Peppy shiver, remembering nightmares of his youth containing the same shapes. He turned his attention back to the inside of the house, smiling politely, "Where is everyone?"
"You'd better sit down for this…"
Fox cried out inside his own body, although he knew only Greg could hear. The sound of his mournful cry echoed in his ears, almost mockingly. The suppressing feeling of being cold and alone swept over him in wave after wave. He wondered if this is what Falco felt, but that thought lasted a second as he felt progressively colder, and more alone in the infinite darkness. Fox cried out again, more desperate than the last one. Nothing mattered in this black wasteland. He wanted to die.
"Oh my god. Gregory, huh? Yeah, I remember him. I always suspected something foul surrounding his disappearance. I had seen him, that day, walking into this house. I was visiting an old friend from our days as cadets. But, what's he want with us, and why now?"
Falco continued telling him all that he'd been informed of. He was barely able to tell Peppy about Slippy being dead, the part where he didn't believe Fox, and what he'd done to him. Pep had rubbed his temples upon hearing what Falco had done. He assured him that he understood, and given the circumstances, would've done the same (although the avian wasn't too sure of the last part).
"So, where's Greg now? And for that matter, where's Fox?"
Falco looked into the foyer, "Come on, it'll be easier to show you." He led the old hare out the doorway. Fox was still seated like he had been, head up, three or four feet from the front door. Falco pointed, "There's Fox and Greg." Peppy put his hands to his mouth; covering up how widely his jaw had dropped.
A groaning sound made Falco sink to his knees by his left side, shaking him gently to get his attention. Greg lowered Fox's head, eyes still shut. Falco persisted in trying to get an intelligible response, "Fox, can you hear me? Are you ok?"
Fox's eyes suddenly opened, and his head turned fast towards the left. His eyes weren't green anymore; they were now an ice blue. The voice that came from Fox's mouth was Greg's when he said, "I'm more than ok. You're friend was hard to suppress, but I eventually overcame him. You should've heard him; fighting and screaming desperately…he was so afraid. I enjoyed every second of it."
"That's enough, Gregory!" Peppy stepped towards Fox's body, seizing his orange neck and bringing him within inches of his face, "I swear, if you hurt him…"
"You'll do what? You couldn't hurt me if you truly wanted to, not as long as I'm in this body." Greg stood up, nearly falling over. He'd forgotten how much he'd damaged him. Warmth filled his body. But, he couldn't heal all the wounds, just the ones caused by other dead beings. The one on his stomach, his leg, his palm, and the throbbing head were healed up immediately. He even managed to get the black eye to go down, so that it was just barely noticeable. The ones caused by Falco and other worldly objects would have to heal on their own, such is one of the many setbacks of living, Greg marveled. He turned his attention back to Peppy and Falco, and smiled with that same sinister look he had earlier when Falco first laid eyes on him.
So, let me know what y'all think.
