Star Fox: A Threat Most Fowl
Authors' Note: Ca'diem and I are both pleased to see how well the first chapter went down with y'all! We proudly present number two, and we hope you find it as equally satisfying.
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Chapter 2: The Saviors of Lylat
"Because of events that passed long ago?" Midnight repeated Princeton's response with a puzzled look. "You've held a grudge for this long? Surely what they did couldn't have been that bad."
Princeton turned to face her, now wearing a solemn expression on his fowl-like face. His eyes stared deeply into hers, so deeply that they seemed to penetrate deeply into the depths of her soul, deeply.
"Not that bad? My dear, you have no idea..."
- - -
(Start of the flashback that ties in with the main plot, explaining in explicit detail why Princeton hates the Star Fox team so).
Fifteen years ago, when Princeton was an immature fowl of twelve years, he had gone to Corneria Junior High, along with the members that would be the Star Fox team: Slippy Toad, Fox McCloud, and Falco Lombardi.
Falco... Princeton hated that bird. He strutted around with his cocky head high in the air. Falco had everything that Princeton wanted for himself; a strong, athletic body that the chicks fawned over, a flawless beak that was just the right size, as well as feathers with a slick, shiny sheen. Falco had all these things and what's more, the smug little bastard knew it. He was at the top of the pecking order, having pecked Princeton on the face many times to prove his authority.
Normally, Prince wouldn't have let Falco's arrogance bother him, but at this point in his life, his self-esteem was suffering greatly. It was suffering because of an event that had not come to pass yet, an event that affects all young male poultry his same age.
His waddles hadn't descended yet.
Yes, the flaps of skin that would become his waddles were still tightly fastened up underneath his beak, hidden from the adoring eyes of gorgeous females. Because he lacked the anatomy that every young rooster had gained by his age, he isolated himself from the rest of the crowd, having been made an object of derisive laughter.
He was so unlike Fox McCloud and his friends. They were the popular ones. They had all the friends, they treated Princeton like a mound of festering garbage every chance they got, and the teachers let them do so.
Fox, Slippy, and Falco formed a punk rock band that was ironically named "The Saviors of Lylat." Slippy banged the drums, Falco BS-ed his way through the bass guitar, and Fox butchered the electric guitar and sang lead vocals. Even though Princeton knew they sucked when it came to playing music, the students loved them just because the idea of a punk rock band entertaining them was so darn cool. It just wasn't fair.
However, In the midst of these circumstances, it wasn't as though Princeton didn't have friends. He made friends with the other loners in the school: Wolf O'Donnell, Pigma Dengar, and Leon Powalski. They were the kids that drew dragons, scantly-clad amazons, and knights dueling mythical beasts. They were the kids that played with anime-style trading cards and smelled like an armpit. They were the kids who were the nonconformists. They were the kids that society had kicked to the curb.
And yet, those three had never played Dungeons and Dragons before. But then again, only the cool nerds played Dungeons and Dragons.
The event that would change Princeton's view on life happened on a beautiful spring day. He and Wolf, Pigma, and Leon were sitting in a circle in the school's sandbox, playing the hottest, newest trading card game: Mages N' Monsters.
"My Drondur summons up the power of the elements and unleashes a wave of energy upon your Morgon," Pigma said triumphantly with an excited grin.
"Oh no!" Wolf exclaimed, his eyes wide with pure worry. "That took down two hundred life-force-points! My Morgon lost its magic resistance!"
The quirky quartet were so absorbed in their game, they didn't see Fox, Falco, and Slippy slip up behind them. They stood there for a moment, watching the game without saying a word, each one trying hard not to laugh. Eventually, Princeton experienced the uncomfortable sensation that he was being watched, and turned his head, coming face-to- face with Falco, who knelt down to his eye level. He was wearing that smug grin that Princeton couldn't stand.
"Whut up, freaks?" Falco sneered, slapping the trading cards out of Princeton's hands. Behind him, Fox and Slippy chortled, just like suck-up sidekicks always do. Princeton despised them both. Slippy never picked on him, but laughed when Falco did. When Princeton and Falco got into fights, Slippy ran off to hide, being the sissy-like pansy that he was. Fox never joined in the fights either, he just held Princeton while Falco pecked the poor fowl's face.
Princeton's legs reacted like pistons and he stood up so quickly he nearly lost his balance, now face-to-face with Falco. He wasn't afraid of Falco, and if it was a fight that Falco wanted, then Princeton wasn't about to deny him the opportunity.
"Beat it, Falco," Princeton warned, his beak only inches away from Falco's. Falco only laughed at the angered rooster's response.
"Beat it?" Falco scoffed, turning his head toward Fox and Slippy. "You hear that, guys? The prepubescent twerp wants me to beat it."
Falco's head snapped around to Princeton. "Maybe you need to be put in your place again?" His chest puffed out, he began strutting around Princeton in the dominant bird fashion.
"C'mon, c'mon! You wanna box, boy? Or maybe you need another face-pecking..."
His arm a sudden blur, Princeton swung his fist and Falco's sentence was cut off. After all, it's hard to talk when an enraged person's fist slams into your beak. The punch took Falco by surprise, and he staggered backward, tripping over himself and falling into the sandbox. Princeton surged forward and straddled Falco, landing another punch directly across Falco's beak. Slippy emitted a shriek similar to that of a little girl and fled the playground, fearing the wrath of the raging rooster. Leon, Pigma and Wolf stood frozen, watching the bloodshed in wide-eyed amazement.
Princeton lost all sense of control, his actions fueled by blind rage. He slugged Falco in the chops a third time, and was about to do so for a fourth, when he felt strong hands grab his shoulders. The next thing he knew, he was wrenched away from Falco. Princeton struggled to free himself from his captor, but his arms were held behind his back. He knew that Fox had grabbed him from behind, and now Falco had his chance for revenge.
Falco groaned, and slowly pushed himself up off the ground. Once he stood erect, he frowned and wiped his beak with his wing. Glancing down at his wing feathers, he gasped at the horrendous sight that met him.
"Fox... what the heck is this red stuff?" he asked, unable to take his eyes off of his wing.
"That's blood, dude," Fox said, a little confused at Falco's ignorance. Princeton tried again to struggle out of Fox's grip, but Fox held firm.
"What!?" Falco exclaimed, becoming more anxious. "Birds can bleed from their beaks? Whoa, I learn something new every day."
Falco's expression of worry now turned to that of vengeful hatred. Striding up to Princeton, he grabbed the struggling fowl by the shirt.
"You made my beak bleed, you bloody bugger," he growled angrily, his face mere inches away from Princeton's. "A good old-fashioned face-pecking ain't good enough for you. What you need is some public humiliation!"
To everybody's surprise, Falco grabbled the waistline of Princeton's sweatpants and pulled down.
The sight that kicked the faces of everybody that was watching is still talked about in Corneria Junior High to this very day.
Tightly hugging Princeton's lower area was a purple Speedo.
A heavy sinking feeling crawled through Princeton's bowels and his face burned with embarrassment. A crowd gathered around the sandbox, and the air became coagulated with their laughter. Fox was now laughing so hard he released his grip on Princeton, who tripped over his pulled-down sweatpants and sprawled down face-first into the sand. He made no attempt to pull himself up. Humiliation caused his brain to cease to function, and he suddenly wished that he was lying in quicksand, so it would swallow him up. At least in death he could escape the cruel laughter, the pointing of fingers, paws, and feathers.
Princeton wasn't going to deny it; he liked wearing Speedos. He found that boxers, briefs even, were too loose and too breezy, and he couldn't stand the cold, breezy feeling. He enjoyed the warm, secure snugness Speedos provided, and there's nothing wring with that... right?
As a result of the whole charade, Princeton was suspended for two weeks for fighting. He was suspended for another three weeks for indecent exposure. The suspensions made little difference to him. As soon as he returned to school, he was greeted with constant mockery and malicious torment. Not only was he reminded every day for wearing a Speedo, but the torture continued throughout the rest of junior high and high school. Poor Princeton was called vicious names, including "Speedo-Boy," "The Speedo Wearer," and "The Guy Whose Sexual Preference Must Be Questioned Because He Wears Speedos."
Of all of his tormentors, Falco, Fox, and Slippy were the ones who teased him worst of all. After high school, Princeton left Corneria and escaped to venom, where, for the first time, he felt at home. For the first time, he felt accepted.
(End of flashback that ties in with the main plot, explaining in explicit detail why Princeton hates the Star Fox team so).
- - -
"Wow... that sucks, yo," Midnight muttered, shaking her head. Never had she heard a more dire story.
"I remind myself of that incident every day," Princeton said, "to keep my hatred for the Star Fox team alive and strong. I've waited so long for this day, the day that Venom would take over Corneria, no, the whole Lylat System!"
Snowball stared at Princeton, her mouth hanging agape. She and Princeton stared at each other for several seconds, and finally he severed the silence.
"You wanna tell me what your problem is?"
"You... used to, like, wear Speedos?"
"Yes. Yes, I did. Can we please move on?"
A sly smile crawled across Snowball's face.
"Like, are you wearing one now?"
Princeton's heart began to speed up nervously and he squirmed uncomfortably.
"That's... frankly none of your business, and irrelevant to our current situation."
"Anything you say, Speedo-Boy," Midnight said with a wink.
"Will you both stop it?" Princeton exclaimed irritably, beginning to sweat nervously. "Now, I want you to saddle up and take our pilots to Fortuna. The planet has an extensive base of operations. Our intelligence reports that the base is lightly guarded, so they won't stand a chance against our ten thousand pilots..."
"Twenty," Midnight corrected.
"Right," Princeton replied. "So, get to the Planet, capture the base. Simple, right?"
"Yes, sir!" Midnight exclaimed enthusiastically.
"Wait, I'm like, confused," Snowflake cut in, frowning in concentration. "So do we, like, capture the base, and then go to the planet or like... I don't know..."
"No, no, Snowflake, the base is on the planet," Princeton explained, exasperated by the feline's stupidity. Midnight'll explain it on the way. So, girls, good luck, and good hunting."
"Whatever," Midnight muttered. With that, the two female felines turned and headed out the door.
Princeton watched them leave, then flopped back down into his chair with a deep sigh. Relaxing in body and mind, he let out a soft chuckle.
"Very soon now, the Lylat System will be mine... God, that sounds so cliché..."