"And so we begin again. I feel a bit better about this story now, so hopefully some great things will come from it, aye?

"The story is going to get a little more emotion-intense this chapter. With the arrival of this irritating government agent, the team has their work cut out for them when it comes to internal matters. Just a fair warning in case someone out there doesn't like strife.

So, as is usual for authors on this site, I don't have any holding over licensed content. I wish I did, though. That would be so awesome.

"Wishing aside, let's see what our favorite heroes (and Slippy, for those of you who hate him with a passion) have to say about this jackass. Let it…Begin!"

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"Who the heck does this guy think he is, insulting us like that?" Falco inquired of his teammates as they sat around the common room table. Hardly five minutes had passed since Peppy's agent had arrived, and already the members of Star Fox were irritated with him. If it weren't for Fox's insistence on keeping cursing to a minimum, this interloper would have been bombarded with foul language before the elevator closed.

"Falco, he's clearly…I mean he's…well…Okay, he's a jerk." Not even Slippy, the most optimistic of the four, could find something positive to say in this situation. "What's really creepy is that he seemed to know us inside and out. I mean, yeah the Blue-Marine wasn't approved by Corneria, but they knew that they could trust us with it."

"Yeah, Slip. Even if I didn't like the thing, it came in handy for Aquas. Maybe this idiot's just jealous of our reputation, you know?"

"I don't think so, Falco," replied Fox. "Whoever this guy is, he seems to have more experience researching for his own purposes than just finding out about a person's downfalls." The vulpine looked over at Krystal, who still had tears sliding down her fur.

Fox turned back to Falco and Slippy. "He doesn't seem to be interested in working with people he considers criminals. I have to respect his sense of justice, but he takes it way too far."

"He acts like he hasn't made a mistake in his life." Falco reclined before continuing. "Well, I'd say he just made a huge one. Next time he pulls one of his little back-talking stunts, his muzzle's gonna look like an old-timey accordion."

"You can't do that, Falco," Slippy rebutted. "We're under the General's orders for this. We might get fired if we hurt the guy. One look at his Cornerian Fighter and you can tell it's made for something big. It was made to blend into space, and it didn't even show up on radar." Fox and Falco looked at the toad. "What, you guys didn't notice? We should have picked it up from the atmosphere. If it weren't for Krystal, we wouldn't have known he was coming so soon."

At the mention of her name, the vulpine burst out into another round of sobs. Wary of how she might feel, Fox carefully put an arm around her and asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Krystal nodded her head, but it took some time before she was calm enough to begin. "I-it was…it wasn't too long before the Anglar attack. I was feeling more depressed than before…and angry, too. And Panther, he was so charming…he said 'If you want to hurt him, Panther doesn't blame you. For tearing the heart of such a beautiful and delicate flower, he deserves more than any punishment could deal!' We then went out for a movie…went to dinner…but I was still upset. So he suggested…suggested…" At this point, the blue vixen broke out in tears again.

"I-I-I'm so so-sorry! I never meant to let it get to that point! But I knew…knew that if you found out…and I'd tell you eventually…that when you found out, you'd be furious! Upset! Hurt beyond all reason! And that's what I wanted, more than anything e-e-else in the world!

"A-a-a-and it was go-good…good to make you feel my pain. But…but after the fact, I thought of the consequences." Several more sobs wracked Krystal's frame before she continued. "So I took my…my exams early, just to see if he'd done anything or had any-any-any dis…disease. The doctor said I was clean, but…but, oh, I felt so disgusting the next night!" These last words were too much, and the blue fox finally collapsed into uncontrollable crying.

Nobody said anything as Fox pulled Krystal close. Each was reflecting in their own ways on this revelation. Falco was thinking about how idiotic Fox had been and silently promising to rip Panther's two best friends off next chance he got. Slippy had sympathetic thoughts running through his head, but no phrase in his vocabulary seemed to fit the occasion.

And Fox…Fox was conflicted. On one hand, Krystal had done more than date his disgusting rival for her affections. She'd slept with him! And all to get back at Fox, the one who had hurt her so in the first place. Betrayal swirled in his gut, speaking of horrible doubt and rage.

On the other side, her days associating with Star Wolf were done now. Both of the foxes had made enormous mistakes that couldn't be taken back. Both had their remorseful feelings and their taboos; it was just that Krystal had kept hers hidden, and for a good reason. Fox knew that such a secret would tear someone inside-out until they told someone. For that, he felt pity.

But one thing stuck out above all of those.

Fox felt guilty. Guilty that he'd ever driven Krystal way. Guilty that she'd felt that revenge was in order. Guilty that the young woman he'd rescued so long ago—such a pure, innocent person at the time—would believe that his feelings for her were untrue. Such guilt, such shame, such hurt.

This is all my fault, thought Fox.

Following what felt natural—a policy drilled into his subconscious by both his father and Peppy, Fox did the one thing he felt was right.

He pulled Krystal closer and cried with her; cried from the utter confusion of savage emotions and for not knowing what to do. For the first time in years, Fox McCloud had no idea what the next step was.

Slippy, the compassionate person he was, felt his eyes begin to water. Falco, though, wasn't particularly moved.

"Alright already! Jeez, turn of the waterworks, you two. What's done is done now, right? You two obviously care enough to not care about this, so move on and pull yourselves together! Besides, what are you cryin' about, Foxie? You—Oof!"

Falco was cut off by an amphibian elbow to the ribs. Slippy pulled his friend closer and tried to quietly explain.

"Fox feels bad about making Krystal all sad. C'mon, you can't honestly say you don't understand that? Besides, this is their moment to be sorry together. So shut your beak and let them be sensitive."

"Bah, you too? Bein' with women has made everyone around here soft. There's no way we'll get any work done with you all bein' crybabies."

"Falco, you're being about as insensitive as that agent guy was! Even you aren't that cold. Besides, what would Katt say?"

"What do you mean insensitive? I'm bein' more than that! This is reality we've gotta deal with. And you leave Katt outta this. She's not involved."

"You keep telling yourself that Falco. At least be quiet so Fox and Krystal can have their moment. Why don't we just work our way to the kitchen or something?"

"How can you be hungry at a time like this? You just wanna take a look at the stealth fighter, don'tcha?"

"Have it your way, then." Slippy stood up and called the elevator. Once the door opened, he told Falco over his shoulder, "I guess that leftover eggroll is all mine, then."

"Wha—? Hey! You little…get back here!" But by then, the door had closed and Slippy was on the way down. "Grr, I'm gonna…You get back here!" Falco made for the emergency steps to the lift's right and flung the door open. The handle slammed against the metallic wall with a horrible crash, but Lombardi ignored this and swooped down the stairwell.

Fox and Krystal, having watched since Slippy first mentioned Katt's name, couldn't help but share a mutual chuckle. In the backs of their minds, they both knew that Slip had gotten Falco riled up for them. It wasn't necessary, but the action was much appreciated.

Several quiet moments passed, the sounds of the ship orbiting a planet the only disturbance in the air. Eventually, the awkwardness had to end. "So…how was he?"

"Don't start with that, Fox."

"Sorry."

Another silence pervaded; this one far less tense than the previous. Eventually, the two vulpine teammates exchanged tight hugs before Krystal announced, "I'm going to go talk to our new friend."

"But—"

"You're worried I'll cry again?" Fox nodded. "Fox, do you trust me?"

"Well, uh, er…that is—"

"You don't, do you?" The blue fox sighed. "It's not like I can blame you. Then again, you're not perfect either."

Krystal gave Fox a stern look. "I would have told you eventually, when I thought that both of us could handle the reality. It was just really unnerving to know that someone outside of our private circle knew the details so well. Understand?"

"Yeah…Kinda like when Falco told you about Fara the day after you came aboard the Great Fox."

"Exactly. Just remember Fox: this guy's an idiot. Now, I'm going to go deal with our new nimrod. You can trust me to do that much."

A further moment of silence passed as fox and vulpine processed what Krystal was trying to say. There was no time to worry about past mistakes now. They had been given a job and must work to the best of their abilities to get it done. Even if their so-called ally was more of a jackass than Leon, they would have to push through.

Besides, this was a post-war era. It was time to start fresh again.

"Why don't you go on ahead to make sure the boys don't kill each other, Fox?"

"Yeah, good idea. Even if I have to eat that eggroll myself, those two have to stay alive."

"But you hate eggrolls."

"Sometimes, a leader has to take a laser for the team."

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As Krystal approached the door, she found herself wondering what had made this strange man so aggravating. From her own time as "one of the jerks," as Falco might so eloquently put it, she knew that it generally took some sort of large, painful event to turn a person so bitter. But what kind of happening could turn such an inexperienced person so angry?

Knocking on the door, Krystal announced, "Hello, I want to talk to you…actually, we never met properly. What's your name?"

Rather than open the door, the sound of paws hitting the locking mechanism announced the man's presence. "Greg. Just Greg. Call me Agent Heat if you must."

"Well, Greg, I believe we should have a face-to-face chat. If we're going to work together, under General Peppy's orders or not, then we should at least minimize hostilities between our two parties."

Silence. Then, "General Hare's orders are the only reason I'm sharing a cruiser with a disloyal who—"

"Watch it," Krystal growled. "That's territory you have no right to be in. Now get out here so we can talk like civilized people."

"Screw off. We'll meet in the morning and I don't intend on being seen until then. I'm not one for socializing, anyway." Something about the mass of a fully-grown adult hit the bed in the room, making the cot squeal in protest. Krystal wasn't pleased with being ignored.

Sliding over to the control pad, the blue vixen entered the general override code for the guest rooms. The door slid open to a surprised yelp from the occupant. "Wha? How did you—?"

"All members of Star Fox know the override codes for all doors except for personnel quarters." Krystal wasn't shy about her smugness. "I'd think someone as well-informed as you would know."

The man, Greg, tossed something over his shoulder. It didn't escape Krystal's notice, but she decided to hold off on the subject for the moment. Right now, "Agent Heat" seemed rather livid.

"You intruding little…" The man's facial fur was rippling with aggravation. "I'm a guest on your ship! What kind of crew enters the private quarters of a passenger without permission?"

"I'm not 'crew,' as you put it. I am a member of team Star Fox and an equal shareholder in all assets. The Great Fox belongs to the team, not just Fox McCloud."

"Isn't that nice? Now get out."

"Look, I've tried being civil and going about this like a sane person. It's not working, so I'll be blunt. We don't appreciate your bad attitude here, mister. You can either suck it up and deal with us or get off our mothership. I don't care if you're the best pilot in the Cornerian Army or whatever. You don't know us and we don't know you."

"Don't…treat…me…like a kid!" Greg's expression turned from annoyance to rage. "I'm not some little, inexperienced brat! You don't know who I am in the least. I know everything I need to know about you all, though. If I weren't the best suited agent for this mission, I wouldn't deal with low-down, traitorous, deserting sluts like you! Get out of this room or I'll force you out!"

"You, sir, do not have the right to kick me out. Come with me and we can all deal with this under Peppy's watch. If you want to act like a spoiled child, which you are, then you can deal with someone you actually respect. Now, come with me!" Krystal's hand shot out with remarkable speed and grabbed the agent by the arm. A long moment of tension slowed time. And then the feeling started.

"Ow!" Krystal jerked her hand back and looked at it. The glove was singed from slivery-white to a deep brown, almost like it had been cooked. Before she could ask any questions, the vixen found herself outside of the room with her tail almost pinched by the door. Only her innate sense of danger kept her from a doctor's visit.

"What…what was that? Hey, what just happened?"

"Get lost!"

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It wasn't easy, but R.O.B. managed to pick the charred glove off of Krystal's hand.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…let me get this straight," said Falco over a mouthful of eggroll. "This guy, this brat who thinks he's the man, pushed you out of a room on our ship and thinks he can get away with it?" Falco popped the rest of the food substance in his mouth and chewed it with angry thoughtfulness.

"That's what it sounds like. I think Peppy needs to know about this."

"Slippy, this guy's a total as—er, scumbag! The only way to teach scumbags a lesson is to pound them into the dirt."

"You can't just go up and punch him, Falco," Krystal reminded the bird. "He seems to have some sort of energy field surrounding him. I didn't even know Lylat had such technology."

"Why not? It sounds like the reflector prototypes I designed for Fox and Falco all that time ago. Too bad they only worked in two dimensions…"

"Slippy, you're the smartest inventor in the galaxy! Nobody could figure out how those things work. Besides, Krys said it was some sort of burning thing. Yours are electromagnetic whosamawhatsits."

"That's enough, you two. I don't think we'll be getting too much out of this guy by conventional methods."

"So you're saying you're gonna read his mind or somethin'?"

"Falco, I don't think telepathy is what she means."

"Right, Slippy. Instead, I want you to examine his fighter."

"Alri—wait, what?"

"Greg has made it clear that he's staying in his room for the next twelve hours or so. You can take apart and reassemble an Arwing in two-thirds of that with ease."

"I dunno…Fox won't like this."

"You're right, Fox doesn't like this." All eyes, robotic and living, turned to the medical ward's door as Fox ambled in. His fur was still everywhere from tearing Falco off of Slippy, but his feeling of authority had returned. "That's why we're going to look over the ship together."

Confusion filled the eyes of the living teammates. R.O.B. clanked off to dispose of the ruined glove. "Even I want to know what this guy's about," continued Fox. "So each of us will take a section of that fighter and inch over it until any secrets it hides are exposed. It'll be a team-building exercise as well as an information session. If we're going to start functioning as a unit again, we have to act like one." Fox glanced at Krystal before issuing orders.

"Slippy, the engines are yours. Leave no bold unturned. If there's a secret panel of some sort in there, I want you to take it apart.

"Falco, the cockpit is your territory. If even the controls are set in a peculiar manner, tell us. Make sure every dial, button, and lever returns to its place—that's the most important part of the operation.

"Krystal, you check the bomb chute. You can fit in the tunnel best, so it's up to you to find anything out of the ordinary inside of it. My instincts tell me that it won't be as dangerous as an Arwing's bomb layout. It may have been converted to storage, like my Arwing before the Sauria incident.

"As for me, I'll be looking over every inch of the fuselage. In the lights of the hangar, the ship is easy to see. Nothing is going to escape my eyes.

"We all have our orders. Are we clear?" Three affirmations followed Fox's question. "Then let's go. Star Fox…move out!"

Falco eyed his comrade. "Eh, Fox? We're only going to the hangar."

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The process of examining the fighter was tedious, but charged with expectation. Krystal, insisting that her hand was fine, wriggled into the bomb chute. Fox had started with the left wing as Slippy squirmed into the engines. Falco practically greeted the starfighter's cabin like an old friend and started rooting about instantly.

Krystal reported first. As Fox had suspected, the bomb payload had been replaced. However, it seemed that rather than act as cargo storage, the chute had been filled with a strange machine. Slippy took a moment from the engines to confirm that the device was the radar-dodging mechanism. Krystal returned to the shaft's inside in order to prod about some more.

Falco examined instruments with a pilot's eye, noting anything that seemed out of the ordinary. The only problem he found, though, was that the fuel gauge was low. Lombardi complained about how they'd have to loan their guest fuel for the trip home.

As Slippy disassembled the engine, Fox skittered over the hull. Every panel was shaded the same obsidian black, but the lights in the sealed hangar of the Great Fox made it easy to find the seams. Nothing seemed strange, though McCloud wasn't too familiar with the current model of Cornerian starfighter.

As the other three finished their searches, Slippy crawled out of the engine. True to form, the mechanics of the ship were left in the same condition as they had started in. Slippy reported that other than a higher efficiency of output, there was little different from a usual fighter's

With their exam essentially fruitless, Fox decided to call it a day. He gave everyone leave to relax before the mission briefing the next day. Falco, miffed at the lack of success, responded bitterly.

"Gee, Fox, thanks. Now I can catch up on my beauty sleep."

"No need to be sarcastic, Falco."

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Krystal wasn't done with Greg. Being too stubborn had its advantages sometimes. While this may not have been one of them, the situation left everyone feeling on-edge. That wouldn't do for the upcoming mission.

As such, the blue vixen was making her way to the agent's room. This time, though, she was keeping all senses open in case she could get some sort of reading on the instigating pilot's thoughts. Oddly enough, she didn't feel him in this part of the ship.

Knocking on the door proved Krystal's suspicions. There was absolutely no response to the traditional announcement of presence, meaning that Agent Heat was out in the ship somewhere.

The sound of water splashing down the hall explained the reason. The Great Fox, being originally designed as a Cornerian military vessel, had public showers. Apparently even the antisocial pilot needed showers.

A quick glance to either side showed nobody coming down the hall. Against all better judgment, Krystal entered the override code and swept into the guest room.

The space was sparsely decorated—a tight budget after the Aparoid invasion had combined with a lack of personal property to allow only the most essential rooms to have so much as a painting of a flower. The surfaces were dusty from having so little use—neither Fox nor R.O.B. being much for extra cleaning—and the bed probably hadn't had a sheet change since the team had first bought it. The walls weren't even painted. Krystal would be sure to bring that up to Fox when the paychecks were divvied up.

On the bedside stand were two objects. The first was a small military-grade lamp used for reading and other activities. The other…

The other was a picture. Krystal stepped closer to examine it. It was a photograph of a young man, no older than eighteen, wearing a hat with the Cornerian Army's emblem on it.

The man looked like a slightly younger version of Greg.

It was puzzling, but had some sense to it. The man stalked around the ship as though he was King of Lylat. It would figure he'd have a picture of himself in his pocket at any given time.

On the other side, why was he wearing such a strange hat? And why not keep a more up-to-date picture?

Confused and aware of the shower water stopping, Krystal retreated from the room, sealing the door behind her.

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Falco was the last one to stroll onto the bridge—ten minutes late. Slippy rolled his eyes while Krystal kept an even face. Fox was about to jokingly jibe the avian for his tardiness, but Greg got to him first.

"You're late, you layabout crook. No reasons other than you were sleeping on the job, I bet. Whatever. Sit down, shut up, and listen."

"What was that? You little…Why don't you say that to my face?" Falco made to Slug the man in the nose, but the rest of the team held him back.

"He's not worth it, Falco," Krystal chided. Eventually, the three managed to get Falco to his seat, where he calmed down enough to glare sulkily at the agent.

For his part, Greg didn't seem fazed. "Good. Now that you're all here, we can begin." He pulled a folder out of his bag. The file was stamped by the seal of the Cornerian President, signifying its importance.

The agent opened the file and pulled out four sheets. Handing each one to the Star Fox members, he began to explain.

"No doubt General Hare told you this, but the mission is strictly confidential. If any of you tells somebody outside of this group about it, you will be denounced by the government as insane, discredited, stripped of all honors, and thrown into an asylum for the rest of your lives. Any questions? Good." Greg didn't even wait for an answer.

"Now, you all probably wonder what this mission is. I can't reveal all of the details yet, but you may know the first part."

He straightened up, stiffening his back. "As you know, the trial of Clive Macolm has been decided. Unfortunately, the public did not get the truth. This man, Mr. Macolm, is innocent and is taking the place of someone else. Our first job…" Greg paused, which made him seem even more pompous. "…Is to rescue the victim from Fichina before he dies."

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"Finally finished. Now, I'd like to talk really quickly about archetypes in response to one of my reviewers. You may not have meant anything disrespectful, and if you say otherwise, I'll believe you, but you pointed out about how the OCs are like some others from someone else's story.

"First off, I've never heard of that writer before, so you can rest assured that there is no correlation between our OCs. Now, archetypes are sort of like stereotypes, except they aren't generally used in a negative way. They are character personalities or models that show up often due to their popularity or common nature. As such, Greg and Clive are not copies of any character you may have run into. They are simply designed to fit into categories.

"Your concern, however, is quite valid. I give my word, though (if it's worth anything), that I came up with these characters on my own. I'm not the kind of person to steal ideas if I can help it.

"My thanks to Thestarfox64master, ElementUchihaMaster (a lot of masters around here, hm?), PerfectPhoenix, A Stainless Steel Rat, Graystripe, and Chaos Leader for their kind and informative reviews. I hope you found this chapter to be of the same quality or better than the previous one.

"Ciao chow, all, and remember: don't judge something by its appearance."