A/N: I can already hear it now. "Oh, here goes Sheppard again, for the umpteenth time, he's thanking us for reading, he wants us to leave reviews, thoughts, questions, and wants us to follow/favorite if we enjoyed. Blah blah blah shut up already Shep! Jeez!" Well god damn I'm sorry if I tend to repeat myself a lot! Haha anyway, enough of my brain. Chapter 6 is up, enjoy! And please, listen to yourself as I mentioned before. You could do nothing, sure, but anything helps. Anything at all. :)

You guys have a good one, and I will see you next time!


Rockford, Illinois

"What are these?" a tall bearded man questioned to himself curiously as he gazed through his telescope out into the star filled night sky.

"They look like satellites… but for what? I've never seen a design so foreign and intricate before…" He adjusted his lens and focused on a large body portion of the cylindrical machine.

"Wait, we don't put emblems on our satellites… What does that say?" He zoomed in on a faint blue and silver emblem on the side of the satellite. He lifted an eyebrow and recited the words skeptically.

"Cornerian Defense Force? Never heard of them… Wait…" He stepped away from the large telescope and picked up his smartphone. After a brief search, he found his answer.

"I thought that sounded a bit familiar!" he half yelled, putting his face back on the lens. "It's that military company from Star Fox! Man, those games were great. I loved those games back in the day, although they still haven't made another good one since 64." He sighed as memories flooded his mind of the cutting edge graphics and sounds that the game had to offer. "Those cheesy one-liners were the best," he chuckled.

He stopped his reminiscing and focused back on the satellite. "Anyway, that is probably a codename for the damn NSA and their secret surveillance satellites. They don't tell anybody anything. Although, why would they use a video game company though? Star Fox at that. You'd think they'd use names from shit like TV companies and cell phone providers to make it seem less obvious."

He picked up his phone, and switched between the screen and the lens, his confusion increasing with each transition. "They even used the same logo and everything…"

He chuckled and scratched his beard. "Apparently the NSA loves their furries. Wouldn't surprise me if the people there wore fake ears and tails… filthy animals."

He tilted the telescope upwards slightly, focusing on where the solar plates should have been. "That's… odd… Where are the solar panels? If they wanted to power it, aren't those plates necessary?"

He raised an eyebrow as he studied the rest of the machine. It was a strange machine indeed. As aforementioned, it did not have any reflecting panels on the sides. It was very narrow, but long and sleek, with various sections coated in strange plating. The silver and blue emblem stood out noticeably; covering a large portion of the main hull.

"This… what in god's name is this damn thing," he stated, gazing at the machine. "Apparently the government doesn't want us to know anything. They never said anything about these new satellites. They have to be brand new. State-of-the-arc technology. No wonder they won't tell us."

His monologue was interrupted by a loud buzz from his phone. He stepped away from the telescope and looked at the illuminated screen. He picked it up and looked at the message on the screen.

"Hey, Nathan! Listen, I'm being relocated to Tacoma for my new job in about a week or so, and I really need help moving. Could you help a brother out?"

"Sorry man, I gotta work tomorrow and Thursday. Friday's the only off-day I have and I already have plans." he responded. A few seconds later, the screen lit up again.

"Oh come on man! I need your help here!"

Nathan groaned loudly and began typing a response. "I'll see what I can do. If I help, it won't be for long."

"Aw, thank you so much! I really appreciate that, ya know?"

"Yeah, whatever… you owe me."

"Sure, sure, whatever you want. As long as it's reasonable… ;)"

"M'kay, see ya then," he put his phone down and walked back over to the telescope. To his disheartenment, there was nothing in the lens.

"Okay… where'd it go?" he asked himself, shifting the telescope. After ten minutes of searching every inch of the sky to no avail, his phone began ringing loudly.

"Ngh, pourquoi maitenant?" he grumbled through grinding teeth, picking the phone up and answering it casually.

"Hey, this is Nathan Fox, what'cha need?"

"Hi, uh, Mr. Fox? This is the post office. We've received a package with your name on it."

"Oh," Nathan responded excitedly. "Really? Already?"

"Yup. Would you like to pick it up before we close for the night?"

"Oh, yes, thank you. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Nathan hung up and rubbed his hands together. About time my ACR got here.

Nathan Fox is a U.S. Army veteran. He fought two tours of the Middle Eastern 'Waste of Damn Time' as it is affectionately called. He had fallen in love with combat after he enlisted, and worked his way up to Staff Sargent rank. His favorite 'toy' in the war was a sleek black Adaptive Combat Rifle, or ACR for short. He was an excellent shot with the carbine, even at crazy distances. After his tours had concluded, he budgeted his ass off to purchase his very own ACR; exactly the way he wanted it. He even spent extra to purchase a silencer and a special dot sight to accurately imitate his rifle he used in combat.

Well, whenever the zombie apocalypse happens, or a revolution, or anything that requires self-defense, I'll be prepared.


Urban Corneria City

Driving along what was left of the urban city streets of Corneria City put a sour taste in the general's mouth. Rubble, fire, and most predominantly, bodies, littered the obliterated streets. Dennis drove his truck with extreme caution, since the roads were virtually nonexistent and water lines had ruptured, adding flood like situations to the city for many blocks. As he got to an open stretch of road, he attempted to speed up, but had to swerve to avoid colliding with a grey motorbike racing down the street in the opposite direction.

Pepper instantly jerked his head around and followed the bike. "That was O'Donnell! What's he doing down here?"

"Wasn't that Fox on his back?" Dennis questioned, looking into the mirror.

"I do believe so… Why's he putting that kit in danger like this? The city isn't safe!"

"I have a feeling that he might be hurt… The way he was speeding down this road leads me to believe he's going to the hospital, if it's still standing."

Pepper growled loudly, and sank down in the seat. "I wish I could call them. Transmissions have been down ever since that missile hit."

"You think it was a missile too general?" Dennis asked, turning sharply around a corner.

"There's no debating it. Only a missile could cause a blast as powerful and as devastating as this. It couldn't be a meteorite or some space junk or anything like that. It wouldn't be able to cause this much damage."

"Well, sir, I hate to say it, but Stazac is speculating that it was a System U-8 attack."

Pepper nearly exploded right there. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and his muzzle dropped to the floor of the truck. He attempted to speak, but found himself drowning in rage and unable to make his vocal chords work. Wes noticed his discomfort and spoke up.

"General, you alright?"

Pepper glanced over to the canine and responded in a low, spiteful growl with a tone so acidic it could melt through reinforced steel.

"If I said yes, you'd be sorely mistaken, my friend."


Cornerian General Hospital

Amazingly, it was still standing.

The hospital was a fairly large structure nestled in between large business skyscrapers. By a sheer stroke of luck, none of the three massive buildings toppled. Well, not on the hospital at least.

Wolf managed to weave his motorcycle around the countless piles of debris and corpses and found a way to the main entrance of the hospital. He instantly propped the motorcycle up and lifted Fox onto his shoulders. He carried the broken vulpine into the main lobby and sat him in a chair. The receptionist hurtled over the main counter and rushed up to the kit.

"We got another survivor!" she shouted seriously, glancing at the duo. Her short muzzle suddenly fell open as she realized who was sitting on the chair. "Oh, you're James' kit!"

"Yeah, enough about who he is," Wolf shot. "His leg snapped in that blast, you gotta help him."

"Alright," the feline responded. "I'll take him from here. We don't need a power source to set it, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"Thank you," Wolf said softly, patting the kit's head. "Feel better soon Foxie."

Fox made a whimpering noise as he stumbled towards the rooms with the nurse. She turned around and tilted her ears.

"Wolf, right?"

"Yes."

She nodded and disappeared with the injured kit into the operating rooms. Wolf let out a faint groan as he sat up against the wall. He combed his paw through his fur as thoughts flooded his mind.

The city was fine for such a long time, and moments later it's practically nonexistent. It couldn't be a natural disaster. There's just no way Corneria City was so susceptible to a violent act of nature. It was unprecedented. It had to be a violent act by a living creature. But still, by who? Who could have done this? Only one answer came to the lupine's mind, and it was the only one that made sense.

The damn humans.

Wolf clamped his paw around his muzzle. No, it couldn't be correct. They were too primitive, right? There was no possible way to send a rocket millions of light years away or whatever to directly attack their capital. They knew absolutely nothing about Corneria; why would they attack? Why would they instigate a fight with a civilization that for all they knew could be way more advanced than they were? In fact, they knew they were more advanced. But yet they still launch an attack? It couldn't be true. It just didn't add up.

There was something missing from this puzzle, and the one person that needed to know that was miles away.

Pepper needed to know that something wasn't right. The humans had no reason to attack.

Yet, there was still some sadistic coincidences. Whatever the humans sent, it hit the capital almost dead on, almost as if they had deliberately targeted it. The chances of that occurring without a targeting system were practically astronomical. Even a slight angle change on the trajectory of the object could have changed the course of it by miles. One little measurement change could send it flying overhead, harmlessly detonating hundreds of miles away from any sentient life. So much life would have been spared. Yet, it didn't.

Not only that, but it had an arced path. If it was a targeted missile, chances were it would have struck the city head on, not at the crazy angle it entered in. Only mortars had the capability of a precise angled trajectory, and mortars are only land based. Unless the humans had a crazy interstellar mortar system that could attack distant planets light years away, it couldn't be a mortar.

It had to be something else, but what?

A satellite. A failed satellite.

It hit him like a sack of bricks thrown from a fifty story building. Of course; it explained everything. The humans attempted to send a satellite, but along the way it malfunctioned. That explained the angled path, as it was probably a failed attempt at establishing an orbit. It also explained the explosion as well. It smelled like gasoline, and the only reason a satellite should have gas is if they didn't anticipate an outer fuel source. They didn't know if their sun was strong enough to power their instruments. Gasoline is a great alternative.

It was quick too. Three days since they presumably had acquired their coordinates, and a human object is already in their atmosphere. Three days? That's way too quick. You can't register that much data in such a short amount of time. They rushed the satellite exploration, and it malfunctioned because of the lack of time spent on it. They could have prevented so many issues if they would have just taken their time.

It all made sense now. It was an attempt to get into contact. They were trying to do their own research, much like they have done to the humans for years. The unfortunate downside to it was that they rushed it, and the satellite malfunctioned. It was an accident.

But there was no denying those aliens killed most of Corneria City.

Wolf's head started hurting with all these thoughts, so he stood up and started pacing the room. Pacing calmed the lupine, but not by much. It was only an hour since the explosion, but it felt like a lifetime. Wolf was completely in the dark; he had no idea what was still standing, who was still standing, and who wasn't still standing.

He had a specific name for the latter most option, and it pained him to think of it.

He also had a name for the second option, but he wasn't assured of his speculations though.

He needed to see her. Her flowing brown hair, her trademark smile, and her charming stature were still locked in the back of the lupine's mind. That cinnamon brown husky was still out there, and he needed to find her. But he couldn't leave Fox like this. He was James' kit. Scratch that, he was his brother. Brothers stick together, no matter what. Wolf was torn between the love of his life, and the closest thing he had to family. He had to choose.

That sentence he thought of affirmed his choice.

Brothers stick together, no matter what.

"I'll just call her," he muttered quietly, pulling his paw out of his pocket. As he opened his wrist transmitter, he was disheartened in the red letters that popped on screen.

"Well, ain't that just a kick in the ass," he said bitterly, closing the watch.

Go figure; comms get knocked out in the worst moment possible. How am I supposed to get to Pepper? How can I let Sheila know I'm ok?

Is she even ok?


Rockford, Illinois

"Hell yes," Nathan said as he opened his large silver box that he had received from the post office. The box was a sleek sandy silver color, and had a plush gray foam inside. Along with the foam was a medium sized black carbine with the stock already folded over. The ammunition magazines, red dot sight, and suppressor all came in different packages. Nathan chuckled giddily as he lifted the rifle out of its case.

"Hello gorgeous," Nathan smirked as his eyes ran up and down the frame of the weapon. He lifted it up to its proper stance and again let out a chuckle.

"I hate to admit it, but this one is so much better than the one the army gave to me."

He pulled the small dot sight from the other package and gingerly slid it to its proper place. He pushed his face up against the stock of the carbine, looking through the dot that was displayed.

"Aww, this is so sweet," he said, lowering the rifle. "God I can't wait to use this."

Nathan threw the five extra ammo clips into a backpack, along with the suppressor, and stowed it in the closet of his second story apartment. With the ACR still in hand, he trotted through his small living room and kitchen and walked into the first of two bedrooms in the house. He propped his new toy up against the wall near his desk, and sat down on his office chair and woke up his computer.

"Now, if I can find that damn thing again… maybe I can…"

He shot up and walked to his telescope jutting out of the window. He adjusted the zoom, and searched for the strange satellite. After five minutes or so, he finally located the machine.

"Ok, 14, 720, northeast. Perfect."

He removed his face from the lens and opened his closet. Aside from the numerous worn jeans, the pale blue ski jacket, and the seven hockey jerseys suspended on the rack, there was a large server-like machine nestled in the corner behind a few old hockey sticks. After fiddling with the instruments for what seemed like a lifetime, he grunted and walked back to his desktop.

"Please be right… Just, please… for once in your life be–"

A window popped up on his desktop, showing the familiar silver and blue logo, and numerous options below it.

"Fuck yes!"

His cursor moved over the options, but confusion quickly replaced his elation as he mulled over his options.

"Looks like the Cornerian Defense Force is an actual company… but for what?" He clicked on a word, and his jaw unhinged at the incomprehensible words that filled the window on his computer.

"Okay, I may know most of the English dictionary, but this ain't English." he grumbled confusedly. "Why are the main options in English though? Is this hybrid language?" He stumbled around the countless words, but stopped as he noticed some familiar words.

"Yup, definitely mixed. Scientific English words keep popping up everywhere. This language does look familiar though…" He pulled out his phone and pulled up a translator app. He attempted to type a word in but noticed that a letter he saw was missing on his keyboard.

"Is that a… b? …or just a scribble? ...Maybe Korean? Hell, I don't know what that letter is," he grumbled, tossing his phone aside. He continued searching the words on the screen, but it wouldn't matter if he couldn't translate it. It was completely alien to him.

"God I wish I could understand this. Would make this job a hell of a lot easier on me," he murmured, continuously searching the satellite's contents. He backtracked to the main screen, looking at the familiar logo. He groaned loudly as the next option he clicked on yielded the same results; a crazy, indecipherable language.

"Screw it, I give up. I can't understand this shit," he mumbled bitterly, not closing out the program on his computer. He left it on, and would attempt to decipher it later. Right now, it was 10 at night, and he really needed some sleep.

The cold, October air seeped in through the open window, giving chills to the bearded man as he walked over to remove his telescope from the window. He lifted the relatively large object with ease, and gingerly stored it in his closet behind the numerous hockey jerseys. He sighed as he caught the glance of a blue and orange jersey with the number 99 embroidered on the sleeve. He adjusted the jersey, then shut the closet door, as well as the window on the adjacent side. He plopped down on his bed and laid his head on the plush pillow. He looked over and saw his phone sitting on his desk, but shook his head as he thought about his decision.

"Nah, I won't bother him today," Nathan mumbled silently, nuzzling closer to his warm bed. "He doesn't get any days off until Sunday… I'll ask him about this then…"


Cornerian Defense Force HQ

Sheila turned the key and opened a large box in the back room of the HQ. There were countless switches on the inside, each with a label with a certain number or letter on it. Her claw flicked the number 5 switch, and a faint whirring sound emanated from the box.

"That should do it," she whispered, before walking out and started rushing back to where Vince was. She slid to a stop at one of the windows as a silver truck pulled up to the main entrance. She instantly recognized the dark red military jacket exit the vehicle.

"Thank god he's alive," Sheila muttered, and bolted down the hall to meet up with the general. As she wound one of the corners, the floor underneath her right foot broke up, and she stumbled to the floor in a heap. She attempted to stand up, but already started feeling the swelling in her right ankle. She violently shook her head in an attempt to push her excess hair out of her face, but to no avail. Groaning loudly, she propped herself on the wall and slowly hopped towards the lobby, attempting to put as little pressure as possible on her presumably sprained ankle.

"They're in the comms room!" a faint voice shouted, and pretty soon the husky heard footsteps getting louder and louder. She sighed, and sank down in overwhelming pain as she clutched her injured ankle. She saw a pair of gray tinged ears and grinned faintly as the unmistakable accent resounded through the hallway.

"Sheila! What happened?" Wes shouted, crouching next to the husky. Her canine teeth were sticking out of her maw as she glanced up.

"Ah, just screwed up my damn ankle trying to get to you guys," Sheila chuckled softly, smiling at the group. "Glad to see you're in one piece, general."

"Same to you, my dear," Pepper smiled, helping the husky to her feet. Dennis motioned her in and picked her up, being gentle with the smaller canine.

"You may be strong Spitzie, but you're as fragile as paper." Dennis chuckled, effortlessly carrying the husky down the hall.

"If you weren't carrying me I'd kick your ass right now," Sheila giggled, then glanced over to the general. "And before you ask, sir, I don't have the answers. That would be Stazac, and he's working on fixing the comms right as we speak."

"Ah, don't worry, I've been given a brief rundown. I just need to speak with Vince."

Dennis nodded and started walking a bit faster to compensate for the extra weight he was carrying. Sheila wasn't big, only being an even six feet tall, and a muscular 150 pounds, but Dennis was exhausted from the occurring events that he just needed to sit down for a while. The company of four walked into the only room that had power, and Vince perked up instantly at the large group.

"Finally," Vince grumbled as he jumped off the table. "You alright sir?"

"Peachy," Pepper said sarcastically with a slight grin. "You've got something to say, I presume?"

Vince glanced around the room and sighed loudly. "You may want to take a seat guys… I've got a story to tell you."

Dennis sat Sheila down in a chair and flopped down in the seat next to her. Pepper found another chair and sat down in it, while Wes stood up against the doorframe. Pepper saw the avians and smiled.

"I see the Lombardi's beat me here," he chuckled. "Good to see you and Falco are alright, Riley."

"Same to you general. I was starting to get worried for a second."

Pepper nodded and glanced over at the white vulpine. "Anyway, Vince, please continue on. I want to hear the full explanation."

"Of course," Vince responded before clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. "Roughly 21:36 Cornerian standard time, an unidentified object entered the atmosphere. Preliminary observations led me to believe it was a meteorite, but once it hit the ground and exploded, I instantly knew it wasn't just a simple rock."

The arctic fox continued as he slowly paced around the room. "A few minutes later when I ran in to Dennis, I noticed there was a faint trace of burning fuel. Walking outside and towards the impact zone made the stench worse. It leads me to believe that whatever hit the ground had a liquid fuel source of some sort, and the only culprit that matches the description of liquid fuel sources is System U-8."

Pepper leaned forward and gazed into Vince's bloodshot eyes as he continued. "I already explained to Riley that this is too coincidental to be an accident. They couldn't have hit our capital almost dead on by a stroke of pure luck."

"Wait, what're you saying Stazac?" Pepper asked, hinting at Vince's change in emotions.

"This was a planned attack general, and I'm requesting we take full retaliatory measures."

"War?" Pepper asked hesitantly.

"If that's what these humans want, then we sure as hell will give it to them," Vince stated sternly. "They destroyed your city, murdered millions of your people, and I say we get them back, sir."

"Vince, that seems–" Pepper started, but trailed off as he couldn't find a way to disagree. Vince was right; the humans attacked their capital. He was always taught in the CDF that you should always launch a counter-attack before the opposing forces get another attack off. It's military common sense. But, even in this case, it seemed a bit impulsive. They didn't know the whole story, or at least the other side.

"Pepper… they slaughtered millions… Millions… This isn't a minor tragic accident, this is fucking genocide! If I were in your shoes, sir, I would instantly retaliate. They didn't deserve it… They did not deserve to die as they did…"

Vince's eyes started to water. "These humans have taken it too far. They took hostility to us the first time we came into contact with them; they sure as hell are still hostile now, and now I believe they need to pay the price."

Pepper tried to argue his disapproval, but got cut off with his transmitter ringing. Vince smiled a prideful smile and sat back down on the table as the bloodhound raised his wrist to answer the call.

"General Pepper," he said firmly. He sighed in relief as an unmistakable voice spewed out. "James! Oh, thank god you're alright."

"Actually general, I'm not ok… I'm far from it right now," James responded in a broken and shaky voice.

"Why?" Pepper asked, confused with his tone of voice.

"It's… It's Vixy…" James faltered as he choked back a sob. "She…"

Pepper bowed his head and held his curled paw over his chest. "James… I'm–"

"Who?" James suddenly barked, changing from a sad whimper to a purely irate growl. "Who did this and why?"

"What do you–"

"Pepper!" James shouted. "Who did this?!"

Pepper sighed loudly and paused for a few seconds. "Vince is saying that System U-8 launched an attack. We don't know for sure though, so just–"

"Just what? JUST WHAT GENERAL?!" James snapped, completely beside himself in anger. "Sit on my ass while those alien sons of bitches kill everyone on this fucking planet?! NO! I almost lost everything tonight general! Those aliens almost took my entire life away from me!" he snarled wildly, distorting the call quality.

Pepper was on the verge of an emotional breakdown. He had never heard James loose his shit like this before, and he knew he meant every enraged word he said. He hated to see his best friend devolve into what he was; an angry, confused, emotional mess. He waited until James heavy gasping was replaced with calmer breathing, and spoke to him seriously.

"Don't worry James… I've already made my decision…" Pepper assured, his voice never rising higher than a low growl. "Like you said, they claimed way too many lives tonight. I'm not taking that sitting down. They will have hell to pay for this. Meet me at my house tomorrow… We've got things to discuss."