this is a story that I wrote the other day on my old apple computer(lol) it tells about fox after the war and how he sorta become more like a fox cuz he strats to eat his teammates (falco and frog and peppy and kat and bill and fara) not krystal tho cuz I don't think that's cannon for this story. Here we go!!!!
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Fox grinned down menacingly at Peppy's old mangled corpse, age barely noticeable as his body was really nothing but a bloody mess. Shreds of flesh gave great evidence to where his entails had been drug out from within his body, the perpetrator of this crime made evident by the blood dripping from Fox's muzzle.
He glared down at his old comrade and mentor, a bit of foam evident around the edges of the ace's teeth, remembering all the times he had been told to 'do a barrel roll', a fairly simple maneuver that even the most basic of pilots could master. His repetition of the basics, Fox thought, was what held him back the most in his skills as a pilot. Had he had a better teacher, like, say, his own father, he could have very well exceeded in his piloting skills, far beyond what he had in the petty Androssian war.
He would breathe heavily as he eyed the corpse, remembering with a smile what his fellow pilot Slippy had once said: "Your corpse is mine." He laughed a bit as he fell to his knees, placing his hands into Peppy's belly, mopping his hands about what was left of his innards. He had dumped most of the guts out, laying about the two in a circular fashion, giving an almost ritualistic feeling off. He placed his face within Peppy's belly, lightly blowing bubbles into the mess for a moment, giggling playfully, before opening his muzzle and drinking deeply of the blood.
A moment or so later, the door made its slight whoosh sound, akin to all high-end technology, and Falco Lombardi walked in through the door. Fox raised his head from the pool of blood with an air of lethargy, grinning and letting the blood drip down from his face. He slowly stood up, taking a few deliberately slow steps to face Falco, eyes shut. The bird's own mouth was agape, looking back and forth from Peppy's corpse to Fox's still-living form, trying to churn through the daze of disbelief and comprehend what was present before him.
Fox took these few moments of shock to step forward and rip Falco's throat from existence using his razor sharp teeth, the bird's throat easily tearing out, blood immediately gushing forth, eye's widening and becoming bloodshot, a few last words lost in the gurgle of blood rushing up past the wound and into his mouth. Fox took a step back, letting Falco's now twitching body fall to the floor, eyeing it momentarily, scratching his neck as he meandered from left to right, glancing from body to body, noting that bird boy's was still rolling back and forth, trying to maintain some level of life.
Fox gave a shrug, kneeling back down to Peppy's form, grabbing both ends of his open wound and ripping it open, allowing the blood to flow freely from his still body, dripping out across the floor, crawling to meet back with his disemboweled innards, seeping back into them for the last time. He would take a moment or so to wallow about in the bloody mess, enriching his body and clothes in the red liquid, standing back up and letting it drip down into his boots. He smiled as he eyed Falco's body, continuing its struggle against death. He grabbed him by his heel, pulling him towards Peppy's mangled corpse, kneeling down beside him.