Last introductory chapter before the plot sparks. By spark I mean explode, of course. Allow me to introduce the story of the young Amy and Jordan Lombardi. I should remind that you might want to pay attention to the years I mention in the little date/time/location boxes... even later on it will bounce around a bit for flashbacks and stuff like that, and I wouldn't want people getting confused.
Special Forces Detachment Echo codenamed Dagger is Foxmerc's. Thank you, and enjoy the show.
Oh, and the last half of Chapter Three was refitted, if you haven't seen that yet go back and read it, because I added a little important snippet in an extra scene I added after the dogfight. It is important.
"Disobedience, in the eyes of anyone who has read history, is man's original virtue. It is through disobedience that progress has been made, through disobedience and through rebellion." ~Oscar Wilde
Chapter Four: Amy and Jordan
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Two Months After the Death of Dr. Enos Andross
Thursday, October 5th, 18 PLW
Cornerian Orbit, Arspace Dynamics Research & Development Station
Toad Enterprises Division, Presidents President's Office
1458 Hours Lylat Standard Time
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My name is Beltino Toad, President of Arspace Dynamics. My gorgeous view of the Cornerian skyline out the richly oversized viewscreen of my office gave me a moment to reflect on all of my thoughts. As with the end of any war, I was a busy man... and I did not often get moments to myself.
It had been two months since the conduit to the temporal image of Cerinia had been sealed at the center of Venom, and it appeared as though life in Lylat could settle down again. No longer under the influence of the telekenetic amplifiers, most of the Venomian insurgence immediately surrendered, and the former emperor Dash Bowman was thrown in prison for the rest of his life and replaced by a simpelton puppet of the Cornerian Senate. All things considered, the clean up from the two week blitz was one of the most mild of the wars that have ravaged the Lylat system over the last eighteen years. The only major casualties were on Macbeth and, unfortunately, my own home planet of Aquas; both of which had their capital cities decimated with tens of thousands of casualties to boot.
If anything good can be said about war, however, it is that it has a way of cementing alliances and bringing together the like- minded in times of desperate need for action, whilst equally efficiently weeding out the cowards amongst your inner circle. I was shocked to discover a long lost colleague of mine, Skye Greyson, had been recovered amongst the chaos, whom I had just got off the persacom with only minutes earlier. He expressed his interest in joining my top echelon research and development team for improvement on the current G-Diffuser systems and all technology that it had been implemented into. I of course, feverishly accepted. On the other side of the spectrum, I was infuriated to learn that there had indeed been Arwing development research being sold to the Cornerian government under the table for much longer than I would have ever thought possible. Now do they not only have their hands on the G-Diffuser, but they have begun production of their own R64 Arwings and these new "Interceptor" models that I heard were so successful in the hands of a Star Fox pilot.
As the President of one of the most esteemed weapons and support technology research institutions in the galaxy, my schedule is usually quite full; especially directly preceeding a war. The usual government antics did nothing to suprise me; requests and offers for the Arwing II blueprints on top of their already illegally aquired R64 blueprints, requests for mass production of the TE-CANIS armor that had been combat proven at the battle for Androsia Palace... it was all terribly repetitive, I'm afraid. One can understand that I cannot just give the most powerful weapons ever conceived to a band of corrupt politicians. While I never suspected to be weeding out intelligence leaks amongst my most trusted officers, it was inevitable that the Cornerian Military would discover the secret behind the Arwing eventually. No matter; this is why I constantly work to improve my own work... so that no matter how much they try to steal from me, I will always be able to keep the strongest of weapons out of greedy hands. There are a very slim number of people that can be trusted with the Arwing II or the CANIS armor... Star Fox, Blackhook Squadron and Special Forces Detatchment Echo codenamed Dagger are my primary customers. There are a few other singular operatives that I can trust, such as Katt Monroe and William Grey, but not many.
Some argue that it is ridiculous for me to put so much energy and finance into supplying for a group of no more than twenty able men and women; but if there is any greater point that speaks for the validity of my actions it is results. Who crushed the Venomian armada eighteen years ago with naught but four of my prized fighters? Star Fox. Who led a group of no more than twenty men into the very heart of Venomian power for the sake of saving the lives of billions? Blackhook. Who stopped the launch of a massive thermonuclear warhead that could have permanently ruined the ecosystems of every planet in the system, and kill billions? Dagger. Although, it is argueable that Dagger was not using any of my more advanced equipment at that time, they have, like Star Fox, have found to be singularly loyal to the Lylat System and her citizens before their government; a crucial quality when I am selecting clients. Besides... their leader, Gage Birse, has proven to be one of Fox McCloud's most trustworthy and reliable allies.
It is even more comforting to know that Skye, also the original designer of the Wolfen, is now also a member of our close circle of friends. One of the most catastrophic factors leading to the production of equipment to rival the Arwing started with the creation of that abomination, and now its secret is also safe other than the ones in possession of the infamous Star Wolf... but somehow I doubt they will be selling the schematics of their favourite tools to any governments or rival coorporations. They may be rather unscrupulous, but their intentions proved to be quite honorable when the dust settled.
Amongst all the political, financial and subtelty bores that come with the job of President of Arspace Dynamics, I was surprised to have had an appointment booked by the last people I would ever think interested in my work... Falco Lombardi, and his new bride Katt. While I am a mechanic and weaponsmith first and foremost, it is not uncommonly known that I am also a geneticist. I recieved a rather panicked call only two days earlier requesting my immediate audience, in Falco's typically eloquent fashion. To the shock of us all -please, excuse my sarcasm- apparently the newly dubbed Miss Lombardi is pregnant. How a feline came to be pregnant by an avian, Creator only knows. I am personally inclined to believe he is not the father, but I am also not typically one to judge... besides, checking my watch, I realized that all of those questions would begin to be answered in only thirty seconds if I could count on Mr. Lombardi's timing.
Which I can't, of course. At least not normally... and this was far from a normal circumstance.
At precisely three o-clock PM down to the second, the door to my rather expansive office was knocked on quite forcefully. Normally, my damaged hearing required the use of a doorbell that was wired straight to my desk because it was nearly thirty meters away from the door... but I had no trouble with hearing Falco slamming on the durasteel like the other side was being filled with nerve gas. Swinging my chair around to face the bulk of the room, I pressed a switch on my desk that sent the door shooting into the frame above it to let the newlyweds in. They appeared to be terribly disgruntled, and I can't say I blamed them, given the nature of their visit.
"Mr. and Mrs. Lombardi! So glad you could stop by." Already I noticed the pink furred feline's stomach bulged out as the most obvious sign of pregnancy... but it wasn't a lot. That was good. The further she was along, the more difficult it would be to reprogram the child's DNA properly. Ahh, the wonders of modern science... spectacular to the point of being able to correct a child's genes as far in as the beginning stages of fetal development. As you may have guessed, I was one of the few in Lylat that could do it. Not that, unlike my weaponry, I didn't want to share; just so few were willing to listen. Religious folk, you see. There is still quite a bit of debate surrounding the topic of whether it is morally acceptable to edit the genetic code of a child.
Fortunately for the Lombardi family, I tend to ignore those annoying, idiotic voices in the crowd that try to get in the way of scientific advancement with their petty traditions... and this attitude has served almost every single life in the Lylat System quite nicely at one point or another.
"Man, Beltino, thanks for seein' us so quick." Falco helped himself to one of the chairs at my desk, Katt joining him shortly after. "Like, none o' this makes sense. I didn't even know I could get her knocked up, let alone-"
The sheer magnitude of obviousness that was about to be poured into my office implored me to interupt him. "Worry not, Falco, I am well aware of your predicament... but before we get too involved, I need you to be absolutely honest with me. Katt..."
"Yes?" I think she already knew what I was going to ask, because she almost looked insulted. It was never my intention, but surely one can understand that I must be sure before delving so deeply into the affairs of their child's life.
"Are you absolutely certain that he is the father? Without a fraction of a doubt?"
She didn't even hesitate. That either meant she was extremely honest, or a very panicked liar. "Positive. I haven't... well, you know. I haven't been with any other man in years."
I came prepared for their visit with a briefcase on my table containing all of the tools I would need to properly examine the child. The look I recieved from my secretary was quite amusing when I gave her the list of items, but she fetched them for me in her usually efficient fashion. I stood up, opened the briefcase, and retrieved a small scanning device that show me a dynamic readout of the child's progress based on an magnified X-ray image taken of the fetus' DNA.
While I didn't really suspect that Katt would lie to me, I was still quite shocked to see the results. Not only was the child literally half avian and half feline, the fetus appeared to be stable, for the most part... but I couldn't take chances.
Falco interupted my chain of thought. "What's the problem, doc? You look suprised."
"I believe astounded would be a better word. The child apparently, despite everything I know about genetics, is developing without any major deformaties. However, this is only based on a cover judgement. I will ned to run some tests to be absolutely certain."
Katt looked up to me with a glitter of hope in her eyes. "You mean the child might make it?"
"Oh yes, he will certainly make it; all I need to ascertain is whether I will have to help it along or not... but don't worry. This child will be born healthy."
I noticed both of their expressions soften as soon as I said "he". Falco especially. "So he's gonna be a guy?"
"Yes. You are to have a son."
Thankfully, I had everything on hand I needed to run the appropriate growth simulations on my computer. My scanner connected with my computer wirelessly with the press of a button, and the appropriate program opened and gave me all of the information I needed. Image projection, organ statistics... even the little tyke's eye colour. I took a seat.
All was not well, as I had originally suspected. I suppose Katt noticed the look on my face because she melted into worry again. "Is everything alright?"
I wasn't about to sugar coat the results. "Not as well as I had thought, but nothing detrimental... at least not to you, Katt."
It was Falco's turn to be worried. "What do ya mean, at least not Katt?"
"As I suspected, many of your avian genes are conflicting with Katt's feline genes. While my original projection showed a successful birth, he wouldn't live past the age of two. In order to correct this, I am going to have to replace much of your DNA with generic feline traits... in all honesty, Falco, there might not be much left of you in your son, but it is the only option if he is to survive."
I could certainly feel sympathy for him. His reaction was nothing less than what I expected, the hope that was in his eyes only moments earlier sunk into a cruel mixture of shame and submission. "Is there nothin' you can do?"
"Not for this child. However, if Katt finds herself pregnant again, and you come to me no later than two weeks after insemination, I will be able to assure you a healthy hybrid child."
"...I guess that's all we can ask for, doc. Thanks."
"It's all I can do... I'm sorry that it couldn't be more. I will have the appropriate injections prepared for you within the next couple of days, and I will need you to come again to pick them up either Thursday or Friday."
"Thank you for everything, Mr. Toad."
"It is no problem at all... a friend of Slippy's is a friend of mine. Stop by any time."
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Twenty Years Later, 38 PLW, Monday, April 2nd
Lombardi Private Military Coorporation Headquarters, Kew
Commander's Suite / Residence
1402 hours
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My name is Amy Lombardi, the younger of two children of Falco and Katt Lombardi, owners of Kew's very own LPMC. I was eighteen years old at the time of... well, I'll let my story do the talking.
My whole life has been one of watching my parent's company grow. Thanks to it, we lived wealthy lives... although some times I would think that I was the only one who felt guilty with all of the money we sat on. Not all of it was gained legitimately... I would sometimes talk to my mother about it, because she at least half heartedly shared my concerns, but to my dad business is business. "Seedy contracts come with the job," he would say. "Sometimes you gotta' do things you'll punch yourself for later to keep a good rep up... but you're hardly in a spot to be complainin', you're livin' fer free." So he says.
My older brother, Jordan... well, he's more than a bit odd. Not only is he a naturally royal blue furred pure-feline, he doesn't seem to show any emotion when he's on the job. Dad sends him somewhere to do something and he gets it done without a question, and sometimes without even a word... it's eerie, to tell the truth. It's not like we don't talk, we are siblings, after all, but we never really related on anything. Least of all our father's views on the morality of the work we did.
Scarier yet, he somehow could get along with that psychopath Karen that comes over to do jobs with him sometimes. I feel it safe to say she is clinically insane. She has absolutely no regard for Lylatian life. It's disturbing... but more disturbing yet that my own brother actually chooses to work with her above anyone else. He would always tell me every time I brought it up... "She may be... seedy, as you put it... but she is extremely good at what she does. That's all the job asks of her, and, as such, all I ask of her."
Don't get me wrong, though, my brother isn't ruthless. He shows his fair share of mercy, it just seems that he completely dedicated himself to the job. He spends all of his waking hours training himself in either his martial arts (which are insane) or his piloting from my father. I would be suprised if there was a single soul in Lylat that could outfly either of them now... and I would never want to get in the ring with Jordan. He brought me on a job to a bar on the other side of the planet because we were looking for a particular regular, but the guy was tipped off that we were coming. We got attacked by like, five guys, and Jord floored them all without spilling the half-down drink he was holding... I didn't even have to lift a finger.
Sometimes I think that's the way he would prefer it; he's really protective of me. If he thought he can get a job done without my analytical or social skills, he would leave me behind... especially if there was going to be combat involved. Whenever I was there and there was combat involved, he would literally wait until I was out of harms way before wasting anyone. Dad got mad at him a few times for that. He would start yelling about how I would be screwed on my own if Jordan didn't let my fend for myself. He's only half right... while Jordan was certainly superior, I could hold my own. You don't spend that much time with the beast without picking up a few things.
Now, more about me. I kinda feel like a bit of a hypocrite saying others are odd, considering the unique nature of my birth. My mom is a cat, and my dad is a falcon. A good family friend apparently helped program my DNA to stabilize me, and as a result, I'm basically just like any other felne.... except that I grew wings on my back. Big, white, feathered wings. What's worse, is that my parents gave me the middle name Angel. The metaphor is so sickening that it's almost a full out pun.
The oddities don't end there. Despite the fact that pink isn't my mother's natural fur colour, somehow I ended up with pink fur. Maybe it had something to do with the limited natural feline fur pigments conflicting with the comparitvely colourful avian ones; I don't know. I'm not a geneticist. All I know is that my parents are totally different species, I have pink fur, white hair, and angel wings. I'm completely incapable of being discreet, or even using a disguise effectively.
Can I use them to fly? Yeah. At least there's one advantage to the stupid things. You know how hard it is to get a shirt on, though? I have to get all of my clothes custom tailored to have a removable flap on my back between my wings that I have to zipper into place. I can't sleep on anything smaller than a king sized bed. They get freaken cold in the winter time and I have no means to cover them up properly. I even have to sidestep through most doors. The list goes on... they're a nightmare. I was thinking about it as I got ready for our most recent job, going through the hastle of getting my new business dress on. I had two mirrors in my room back to back that I could use to make sure I zipped up the back flap all of the way. I got the feel for it most of the time, but some tops were more stubborn... like that damn dress.
Although, despite all of this bull shit, I never want to get the wings removed... call it a thing for being unique, or call it the same fear that makes you hesitate to get your tonsils removed. Whatever. The wings stay.
April the 2nd was the day that things would change for me. It was the same as every other week; dad had something special that he needed done, and he told me and Jordan to do it. He also called in Karen.... great. I hated working with her.
Anyway, apparently Dad wanted one of our biggest competitors to dissapear. Normally there was more than enough contracts to go around, but lately, the Jostler PMC took to trying to steal our contracts to try to cut our cash flow, thus putting them on top of the Mercanary business on Kew. Unfortunately for their president, a pig named Terrance Jostler, Dad wasn't about to sit and watch as his profits were cut down. Being a "company mascot", I was supposed to go in with my two "bodyguards" to request an audience with Jostler. If they let me in, I would go straight to him at his office on the top floor, kill him, then jump out the window and flutter to safety. If they didn't, I would call in Jordan and Karen who would butcher the whole building while I took the hovercar to the roof of the building to cut off Jostler's obvious escape attempt. The building was only seven stories tall, making any of Dad's sportscars capable of reaching that height. Once Jostler was dead, all we needed to do was get out of dodge.
When I walked out the front door of our little two-floor office building-like company headquarters in downtown Lusterstone City, I wasn't suprised to see Jordan's deep blue four-door sports car parked on the side of the road. I was a couple minutes late, sure, but don't forget how difficult it is for me to get dressed... especially when it's a business suit I had to send back three times with the correct specifications to get it right. I guess I couldn't blame them too much, how many customers do they get with wings on their back?
The business suit was black with hot pink thin vertical stripes which augmented my fur colour. To further add to the effect, I took my favourite pink-tinted shades with me. Covering my eyes was one of the best ways to add an aura of intimidating professionality, especially considering my fur colour and my slightly shorter height... and the fact I would be unarmed until the shooting actually started.
That, and I was eighteen. Whatever. I guess they were to see how intimidating I was when I put a laser between their boss' eyes.
As I approached Jordan's car, the back door closest to me popped open for me. I settled myself down, and without missing a beat, the door was shut and the car was takingtook off.
I was totally not suprised to see a heavy ballistic support machine gun laying on the seat beside me. Karen was such a brute. The she-wolf, in her favourite long black overcoat, spoke first. "I don't suppose we need to go over the plan again, do we?"
I shook my head. Totally typical greeting from her. "Nice to see you too, O'Donnell... and no, I'm fine. It's not as though it's that complicated anyway."
It was no secret that she didn't like me much. I was a merciful bullet-saver, she was a relentless psychopath. Throw two people like that in the same room and there would be trouble. Thankfully, we had the job to keep our minds company. If she didn't screw up, I wouldn't be mad, and vice versa.
Jordan was his typical quiet self driving at his efficiently quick pace. Sometimes I could swear he was a cyborg. But, even he had to speak sometimes. "I would rather you went over it anyway, to make triple sure. We can't have any misunderstandings."
I rolled my eyes. "I go in first with Jordan unarmed and talk to their receptionist. If he doesn't let us go see Jostler, we leave, and Jordan and Karen go in fully armed and tear the place up, while I take the car to the roof to block off the boss' escape." I sighed. "Good enough?"
Karen shook her head. "You're forgetting a crucial part."
She was right. I forgot. "Aand if he does let us up, however improbable, we tell you to go to the roof, and we stop just before getting to his office to aquire weapons, and trap him in."
"Good. Whatever happens, he's top priority... and we need to make sure everyone that survives knows it was us, so they can run off and tell all of their friends not to fuck with the LPMC."
Suddenly we started to descend and slow down. Jordan rolled down his window and looked down to the ground to make sure we were descending properly and not landing ontop of anyone. "We're here."
As soon as the car touched the ground, me and Jordan got right to business. We both got out at the same time, and he left it running. He was in the same clothes he was always in... they were like his trademark. Loose blue jeans and a red button-up vest. He had like, ten sets of the same outfit. Unlike me, he was armed; but only with a high-output blaster pistol on his belt as a show of force. That would probably be changing shortly.
The building was situated on a busy street corner; only more perfect for the publicity my dad was looking for. It was a simple, seven floor, square office building that was otherwise relatively featureless if not for the windows and the big JPMC sign above the main doors. Who knew, maybe if Karen left enough of the building intact maybe[JZ1] Dad could buy it for cheap once its vacancy was made known. We were always looking for new property to lease for extra profit.
Jordan was right on my tail as I swung through the front doors. I was met with a T-junction hallway, with a reception desk built into the far hallway. Without stopping to gawk at the surroundings to get a better feel for it, I kept my eyes forward and went straight to the front desk.
Needless to say, thanks to me and my brother's unique fur colours and my wings, the smartly dressed fox behind the desk recognized me immediately. "Welcome to- Oh, wait... if it isn't the Lombardi children! What can I do for you two fine businessmen today?"
Jordan kept as silent as I expected him to. I wasn't clinging onto much hope at this point, given the sarcastic expression on the receptionist (cocky bastard...) but I decided to use manners anyway. Why not let him die with my cute smile being the last thing he ever sees? "As you may have guessed, business. Needless to say you are aware of the unfortunate interactions between our two companies as of late... we just want to have a meeting with your President to see if we can't mutually sort out these misunderstandings."
I'm usually a patient person, but when this fucker starts flipping through empty schedule pages with a look of faked concern on, and then says... "Oh dear, I'm sorry. It appears Mr Jostler is already booked for today. Can I book you for an appointment?".... oooooh.
At times like those, I could definitely sympathize for Karen's violent methods. "No... that won't be necessary. I think I will take my leave, now. Have a nice life." "However short it turns out to be" I didn't add.
"Of course. Come again!" he called after me as I turned my back to him. I looked to Jordan to see if there was any equivilient sign on his expression to my frustration, but wasn't suprised to see his usual steely gaze. I pushed out of the lobby doors, and nodded to Karen who jumped out of her passenger seat and wore a vicious grin as she put on a pair of earmuffs and pulled the LMG out of the back seat. She pulled the cocking pin back like an experienced paintball player trying to intimidate his opponents before the match.
"Have fun." I said to Karen as she pulled an assault blaster for Jordan out of the back seat and tossed it to him. Before I got into the car drivers seat, he leaned in and grabbed two small repeating blasters that looked like old ballistic sub-machine guns and attached them to his belt.
I took my place in the drivers seat of the sports car and grinned to Jordan. "Try not to take too long, we need to be out of here before the cops show up."
He didn't return my grin. "Just make sure he doesn't escape."
"Done, and done."
I took a moment to sigh before nodding to Karen. As we turned to face the building, Amy was already up in the air. It was so bothersome when people like that buffoon receptionist refused to be cooperative. It's a pity he wasn't fully aware of his situation before outright refusing us entry; Jostler was going to die regardless. Now, rather, that fox was going to die with the fat swine. He was either extremely stupid or suprisingly loyal.
Whatever. They all burn the same... and I certainly didn't need to conserve ammunition.
As a show of force, and to make the receptionist hesitate to pull the alarm, I swiftly kicked in the front door with my pistol out in the hand that wasnt carrying the assault blaster. Eyes down the sights, one shot found its way between startled eyes. Two guards flanking the desk immediately tried to pull out their service pistols, but they were stopped by the loud clattering of hipfire from Karen's machine gun. When the gun stopped we were left in silence, and we didn't break it with unecessary chatter. Karen took the right hallway and I took the left. We would meet in the middle of the building when the two hallways converged again.
It was no surprise that our entrance was heard. Just before I made it around the corner two guards came flying around. My reflexes caught the first before he even realized what was going on; a well placed fist at the rear end of his jaw sent him sprawling to the floor with a sickening crack. The other one was a bit less oblivious, and tried to back up while raising his sidearm. Since my pistol was already out, I took a snap shot and caught him the gut. He doubled over. To finish them both, I put a laser into the back of number two's head, and snapped number one's neck with a well placed stomp.
I turned the corner, and more three more guards appeared further down the hall. Out came my mini-repeater blasters. The guards were slow to react again, and were dropped by my hail of laser fire. I was starting to question whether there was anyone compotent in the building... there had to have been mercenaries on base. Based on the loud reports of machine gun fire, it was safe to assume Karen was having an equally easy time.
Turning the next bend I was across the main room of the building to Karen, who stepped over a rather gored up corpse with the same steel, all-business gaze. I would have expected a grin, but she usually only enjoys herself if there is a challenge. For us, this was like mowing the lawn. Before we made ourselves visable to the rather large atrium section, she changed bullet-boxes for her MG with prompt efficiency. The atrium we entered took up most of the interior of the building, the ceiling going all the way up to the 7th floor. There was a balcony for each floor looking down into the atrium. There wasn't much for cover, save four statues placed in square corner points in the center of the room, the pillars holding up the balconies, and a large fountain in the center.
Things became more interesting from there on out. The alarm finally went off. Guards started pouring out of two stairwell doors at the far side of the atrium, and a few more appeared along the balconies. Karen didn't hesitate, and was pouring on them once enough of them were in our view to prevent their survival. Before they could collect themselves, I made a mad dash for the stairwell door closest to me. I was under the closest balcony, and had somewhat decent cover from the regularly placed pillars between me and the far balcony.
Two men with their weapons already out were cut down as I approached by a hipfire spray from my assault blaster. Three more were behind them; one with his weapon already raised. Not missing a beat, I threw my rifle at him with enough force and speed to knock him back and keep the rifle in mid air by the time I was upon the other two. Number two had his pistol raised, and I dove forward as he shot. He missed high, and I broke into a handstand flip, getting my calfs safely around his neck. With a twist of my legs and a lean of the waist, my playmate was thrown in a barrel roll, and I was launched back onto my feet. Just as I was composed again, I caught the rifle that was flipping in mid air and lunged at the last one, smashing the butt into his face with a satisfactory crack. The entire maneuver took about six seconds. Before turning towards the stairwell door, I emptied a couple of blasts into each squirming body on the floor and changed energy magazines.
I barely overheard a dark laughter coming from Karen as she kept unloading her machine gun, advancing step by step towards her stairwell door. One of the victims got a lucky shot, hitting her in the stomach, but she only flinched. Her expression curled into one of fury as she pumped ten or fifteen shots into her assailant. I told her bringing that flak vest was a good idea. Good thing she listened.
When fire started coming from the 2nd and 3rd floor balconies, I knew it was time to get the hell off of the ground. Karen seemed to think the same thing, because she plowed right into the stairwell corridor with her LMG blazing. I would like to think I was a bit more efficient, but the general theme was still the same. I charged in the door, looking up the first flight of stairs then straight up through the hollow step grating, preforating two more targets as they were coming downstairs. I started up the stairs, eyes down my sights. The pig would probably be on the top floor. What greedy corporate president didn't have his office on the top floor? Well, my dad's is in the basement, but then again, he's smart. You don't spend forty years as a pilot without feeling vulnerable in the air without a fighter.
The top of the stairwell came without any more interruption, a large white "7" painted on the wall made it all too obvious that I was at my destination. I kicked open the door.
Maybe I was getting cocky, or the next group was the mercenaries that had caused us so much trouble over the past couple of months. Whoever they were, they had a flashbang down, and I wasn't ready for it. I closed my eyes, but I would have to go without hearing for the following several seconds.
I jumped back and tried to get around the corner before it went off, but no such luck. The bang was so loud I could have sworn my eardrumps popped... but when I opened my eyes again, there wasn't so much as a speck of afterflash. I wheeled around the corner again to try to catch whoever was on the other side off guard.
They tried the trick again. After pegging two, I noticed the little glowing red ball flying towards my face. I dropped the assault blaster, caught the plasma grenade and launched it back without missing a beat. As it exploded about fifteen feet ahead of me in the center of the group that threw it, I pulled out my MRBs again. I unleashed a hail through the fireball.
Nothing was left but charred corpses when the dust cleared. I looked across the balcony, and Karen had a similar grenade problem... but she was wearing earmuffs, and her angry weapon leveled the squad waiting for her before they could get the plasma grenade out. She looked over to me, and even at the significant distance apart I saw her nod in satisfaction. We continued around the balconies looking for a door labeled as the presidents office as my hearing recovered.
When our balconies converged to another T junction to a hallway, we knew that the last door on the end would be Jostlers office. Not a word was shared between us, just understanding of our job.
She didn't notice the flicker of light ahead. I knew the tell tale mirror effect of a cloaking device when I saw it. When I raised my blasters, an electrical pulse wave emitted from the figure. An EMP grenade. I dropped my now useless blasters. Karen was using a ballistic weapon, but it had an electronic firing mechanism. She dropped the weapon she was having so much fun with, wearing an angry frown.
The figure's cloak was also disabled by the blast. Standing in front of us was a dark furred hare with a glint of cockyness in his eye. I knew his intentions when two ten inch daggers were suddenly in each of his paws... again, no words were required. Karen backed off. This was my playground. I had no knives of my own; I didn't need them. My abilities were sharp enough. The only gun still on me was my pistol in my belt holster, which I pulled out and threw to the side. All it was now was a paperweight.
Not giving him the courtesy of the first move, I lunged at him as fast as my leg muscles would allow, hands ready incase I had to intercept those knives. Typically, he tried to jump back and slash horizontally with the first dagger. I dove downards instead, making it miss, and spun around on the ground, tripping him out. When I regained my composure he was no longer on the ground where I expected, rather, he had rolled back onto his feet. I quickly gained posture again.
I raised my paw and beckoned to him. Your move.
He threw the knife in his left paw at me. He was expecting me to dodge out of the way to give him the crucial milliseconds to close the distance and gut me, but unfortunately for him, I was no amateur. I timed the knife's rotations, plucked it out of the air and brought it in the way of his predictable counter assault, my free hand behind my back in a clenched fist. He bounced off the parry and slashed twice more, only meeting my stolen blade. The fourth time he slashed my free paw finally jumped into the fight, stopping the blade hand in mid-swing. His free hand stopped my counter-assault.
Maybe he wasn't all bad.
We both spun our knives at the same time, in turn causing us to let eachother go. I flipped mine into a reverse grip; better for slashing and parrying. He kept his point up. He meant to stab me. With knives this large, only one hit would be required to kill either of us. An interesting game.
He took the first move again, lunging at me from a low stance. His blade came upwards at me. He would counter my attempt to grip with his free hand, so instead I backstepped, spun and pushed him over my outstretched foot. He reacted quickly enough to my attempt to trip him, but he was still caught off guard. I went in for the kill. He spun around faster than I could have expected and parried my blow with the knife, but not the knuckle sandwhich that collided with his jaw. He stumbled back.
Just when I thought I would finish it, he again surprised me with a rapid recovery and a counter attack. His knife was plunging towards me again, but I got the chance to grip it this time. My paw around his wrist, the blade stopped inches from my face. I went for the slash, but I had to stop when the fingers still under his control flipped the blade that extra distance it would have needed to carve out my eyes. I had to back off.
Rather than go back to a stare down, he chased me down and sent his last knife flying. He was right; I wasn't ready to catch it. If I parried it, he had both paws available to get a grip on me. I had to throw my own to intercept his before he got close enough. The blades clashed in midair and fell to the ground.
BOOM.
Rather than the hand to hand fight I was looking for, the hare dropped to the ground mid lunge. I frowned. "I didn't need your help."
Karen grinned, holding out her monstrous pistol that was smoking at the barrel. "You're forgetting that we're on the clock. I'm sure you can find some hotshot to fuck up later."
I nodded, looking down to my opponent. Where his neck used to be there was now a smoking crater, his head now completely seperate from his body and rolling across the floor. I picked up his knives and turned around to find the door labeled "PRESIDENTS OFFICE."
Karen, being the only one armed with a ranged weapon, took the liberty of breaching the door with a well placed kick. The wooden-framed door snapped in protest, granting us entrance.
We were not suprised to find the large, lavish room vacant of any fat pigs. There was a staircase at the far end of the room that led up to an open hatch to the roof. Karen gritted her fangs. "Let's hope that stupid sister of yours didn't let the pork chop escape."
"She may be squeamish, but she is not stupid." I ran up the staircase with Karen hot on my tail. The roof was mostly flat if not for a landing pad occupied by my hovercar. Amy was standing on the pad pointing her blaster pistol down at the fat swine, who, to my frustration, was still alive. He was facing away from us, Amy looked over to us with the expression of one who regretted taking the job. That was something we did not need.
Karen didn't show the same weakness. BANG. The pigs pig's arm was blown clean off, replaced by a shower of blood and a satisfactory squealing. BANG. A gaping hole was suddenly in his lower back. He collapsed, but was still squealing. BANG. That one met the back of his skull. The screaming stopped and the portulent corpse lay still.
Karen holstered her pistol and went straight up to the car. I went to Amy. I didn't usually talk a lot, but this warranted it.
She knew exactly why I was upset. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? It was just that... he was..."
"He was what? You know what he was, Amy? He was a target. You don't hesitate when you're paid to kill someone. Least of all someone that is trying to drown out our family business. You just kill them like you're paid to."
"Hey, at least I didn't let him go, alright?"
"That ain't good enough. What's gonna happen when I'm not here to babysit you? You're just going to stare at your target like an idiot while his goons catch up to you?" I pointed at the car. "Get in the car. We're leaving."
"No."
"What?"
"I'm sick of this, alright? I don't want to kill any more defenseless people out of cold blood, let alone watch you or that psycho bitch Karen do it."
A yell from the car. "I heard that, you little punk!"
My all-business expression didn't change. "Then what are you going to do? Just quit and sit on your ass while I earn your pay?"
"No, I'm going to find a new job."
"Right. And where will you go?"
"I'm going to enlist."
It took me a second to catch up. She was seriously going to do it; I knew that determined look in her eyes. The same one she gave me when she told me she wasn't going to have her wings removed no matter how much they got in the way.
"Fine."
She looked at me as though I grew a second head. "Fine? You don't care?"
"No. You make your decisions, and I make mine. Go ahead, go enlist in the military. You're a big girl, you can think for yourself. Just..."
"...yeah?"
"At least keep your cell on, you know Mom and Dad are going to want to talk to you about it."
"... fine. Can I get a ride to the starport?"
"No." I got in the drivers seat of my car. "Fly there yourself. Isn't that why you kept the wings?"
"I can't fly that far with them, Jordan!"
"Good thing it's only sixteen kilometers from here, then." I slammed the door shut and pulled the hover car into the air.
If she wanted to forsake our family business so badly, then so be it. She can carry on alone. If she was bullshitting me, it was twice that distance back to our place.
=-=-=-=
Two days later, Wednesday, April 4th
Lylat United Forces Base 19, Corneria City
Recruitment Offices
1114 Hours
=-=-=-=
Did I start to have regrets for running away from home like that without saying goodbye? Yeah. My parents apparently weren't flipping out though, or at least they understood; because I didn't get a persacom call from either of them. I was almost worried that they didn't care about me anymore because of my decision... but then I saw a deposit of just over five hundred thousand credits into my bank account.
That only made me feel more guilty.
It was too late to turn back, though. I was already all the way in the Lylat system on Corneria, sitting down in the waiting area of the military recruitment offices reception room. Every person that walked through, employee or hopeful alike, gave me the same damn 'What the fuck' look. I guess I couldn't blame them. How many winged cats do you see? Better yet, how many of the precious few of them would want in the military?
I made up my mind only a few hours earlier that I was going to join the Star Navy. With these stupid things on my back, I would never be able to fit in a fighter cockpit or fight on the front lines. Besides.. I never wanted to see the life drain out of someones eyes again. Call me cowardly if you must. Ironic, isn't it? Fighting is all I've ever known and I still get nightmares about the people I watch die.
My reflecting was interupted by the voice of the cute raccoon girl behind the desk. "Miss. Lombardi? Lieutenant Barnes will see you now."
No, you're right, it's not typical for people to wait in line like the emergency room of a hospital for an interview to get into the military... this was only for people without a Cornerian citizenship. I had to go through a complete background check before I could be admitted into the military, not to mention register my unique needs as far as uniform shirts go. Fuckin' wings.
I nodded to the secretary and walked down a tight hallway that I had to fold my wings back as far as I could to get through. Only one door was open, labled "R. BARNES". I showed myself in. There was a grey furred husky sitting behind a desk in his little office, scribbling on some form or another. He looked up, and gave me that same damn look... "Look, if you're serious about joining the military, come back without the stupid costume."
"They're not a costume, and this is my natural fur colour. " I handed him a folder. "All of the apropriate DNA information and doctors notes are in there if you need proof."
His look changed to one of genuine suprise as he opened the folder and inspected the documents. His eyes lingered for an extra few moments on my side-profile x-rays. "Okay then, sorry about that. Please, take a seat. Let's get started." I did.
"Now..." He pulled a form out from his desk. "Looking at all of this, I don't think I need to remind you that you won't be fit for ground combat. The air force might not like this either, so your combat options are somewhat limited... but there are plenty of rear-line jobs that we should be able to interest you in."
I stopped him. "I want to go through Naval officers training."
"Well, I'm sure that can be arranged with the appropriate criminal record checks, and a proof of advanced highschool education. Am I right in assuming you aren't of Cornerian citizenship?"
Suddenly his comm unit started ringing. He raised a finger to me as though telling me to wait. "Sorry, I just need to get this." He picked up the reciever. "Lieutenant Barnes here, Recruitment services."
.... "General, sir! I... "
My eyebrow raised. A call from a general?
"Of course, sir.... yes. I'll get it done." He scrambled to pull more forms out of his desk. "Yes sir, she's right here." His pen in his free paw started dancing across the sheets of paper. "Immediately, sir." He stretched out the phone to me. "Miss Lombardi, it's for you."
Confused, I took the reciever from him and put it to my ear. "Hello?"
"Amy." I knew that voice, it was an old friend of my dad's... Bill. Otherwise known as the Supreme General of the Lylatian United Forces.
"Bill? Is that you?" I had to make sure.
"Yeah, your dad called ahead. All of your forms will be taken care of, we just need to get your record cleaned up quickly so that none of your superiors see that job your brother dragged you on two days ago. Thankfully you didn't kill anyone, so I'm going to make sure that pardon gets fed through."
I was stunned. "All of this.. for me?"
"It's not like we're in a war, I might as well use all of this free time and power to do something useful, eh?"
"I really appreciate it, General."
"Hey, don't worry about it. I'll make sure you're on the next ship to the CRMC with approval fed through to get you on the class list and have your residence signed up for. Just give Barnes there your phone number and he'll call you with anything you need."
"Okay."
"Oh, and give your folks a call, they're worried sick about you. They tried to call but apparently your persacom doesn't have cross-system access."
Remember that guilty pit in my stomach? It got a lot bigger just then. "Oh... shit! I forgot about that! I'll get to a paycomm as soon as I'm out of here and give them a call."
"Might wanna get on that. Falco was pretty pissed off."
"Of course. Thanks again, Bill."
"Like I said, don't mention it. Just pay me back by gettin' good marks, okay? Who knows, in a few years you might be in command of your own ship."
"I'd like that."
"Talk to you later."
"Of course. Bye, Bill."
He hung up. I gave the reciever back to Barnes, who hung it up. "Looks like you got yourself a guardian angel. Last person I expected to be calling me today was the freaken Supreme General."
"Here, I'll just give you my number and be out of here, okay? I have to make a call."
"Well, here, you can use my phone." He pushed the unit over to me so I could dial up.
"Oh, thanks..." I dialed in my parents as quickly as my muscle memory would allow. I wonder if the owner of that building would have got mad if he suddenly saw a cross-system long distance call on the phone bill? Oh well.
Click. "Lombardi PMC, what problem can we solve for you today?"
"Dad!"
"Amy! God damn, kid. Me and your motha've been worried sick! Didn't even tell us you were leavin' and then you jump off planet! You be glad I have friends in high places, you would have been in real shit if I didn't have Bill around to clean your record. Is everythin' okay?"
"Thanks to Bill, yeah... I guess I wasn't thinking about my record..."
"Yeah, there's a lot of things you didn't think about... like if you were gonna' join the Navy, I could have just stretched the business to fleet escort ships too. You know I can afford that now? Wild shit. I coulda' bought four or five war frigates and had you taking on cargo ship escort missions and spare pirate base huntin' missions on your own bridge... I just wish you woulda' spoke to me first."
"I'm sorry, Dad... it was just the heat of the moment, you know...? I watched a man beg for his life for like, three minutes and I couldn't pull the trigger. Did you see on the news what Karen did to him?! I just get... I seize up."
"I know, kid. Your mom's the same way. Look, don't worry about it. You got a long and proud career ahead of ya, whether it's with me or not... I still have Jord to keep things runnin' down here. Besides, don't take offence or nothin' but I think he's plenty fine without the help. Know what I mean?"
"Yeah." I giggled. Fine was an understatement.
"I know you saw the money in your account cause you made a withdrawl. That's yours to blow, okay? Just incase things go wrong and you need some backup cash, or whatev'. Don't worry about payin' me back. Oh, make sure to gimme your res address once you get settled in, you and I both know how frustratin' it is to get you new clothes."
"Yeah... no kidding."
"Here, your mom wants to talk to ya'."
"Okay."
I heard a shuffling at the other end and a couple of light pops. "Amy? Amy, are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, Mom. I can handle myself."
"Apparently not, young lady! Where would you be if we didn't make that deposit and didn't call Bill? You'd be screwed on the other side of the galaxy with no money or way to get back, that's what!"
I stayed silent until she calmed down. "... I'm sorry, hon. You know how worried I get. Jordan told me all about what happened, I was pretty mad at him for just leaving you on the crime scene like that but it seems you're doing all right after all. Are you sure you're okay, honey? I know the University is only about twenty minutes away from the McCloud place, do you want their address?"
"Nah... I'll be alright. Besides, I heard Marie and Aryn both go there. I'll just meet up with them then."
"Well, okay. I'll let you go. If you ever need anything, give us a call, okay?"
"Will do, Mom, thanks."
"Bye, sweetie."
"Bye."
I hung it up, and Barnes took his phone back. "Now, about that number..."
"Of course."
I had more planned for this chapter but it would have turned out longer than 14k words so I decided to cut it off here then I'll add more plot devices and the rest I had planned for here as one chapter. Stay tuned, and see y'all next time.