In her right hand, she could feel the joystick of an Arwing, its synthetic grip rough against her palm. Around her, she could almost sense the heavy presence of the cockpit, and the sound of the engines rumbling around her.

That feeling, of soaring off-- well, there was nothing to beat it, to be honest.

But there was no cockpit, just a lumpy mattress beneath her; no engine sounds, just the faraway crashing of the breakers against the beach and the rocks.

She dressed quickly in the glow of the morning light coming through the windows. The hotel room was cramped, but it has done its job. Last night, she thought; certainly figured Wolf would've tried something, but the way he left--

She stepped out of the hotel onto the crowded street, hearing the noises of the marketplace, the shouts of the fishermen and jewelers. The air was cool and wet from the ocean; salty. Above, seabirds snatched at each other's beaks, and cried into the morning grey.

Wolf, she thought; if you hadn't stuck your dirty muzzle into my business, I'd be off on a rogue space station somewhere, actually flying a ship. Have a living I'd be proud to bring my baby into, rather than have her mother waste away behind some bureaucratic desk or toil and trudge in some service job...

She saw him when she approached the beach. He stood on an outcropping of rocks overlooking the waves, the air playing with his long coat. He stared out at the horizon.

"- doesn't make sense," he was saying as she approached. "No stops at any stations, no sightings in any fields?"

"Hey, you know me, love," Tinkerbell said, the little bright ball whizzing up and around the rocks. "Checked twice. No Leon."

"Right," Wolf said. He snatched a rock up from the ground and tossed it into the ocean. "He's still hanging around here then."

"Great," Fara said. "Next time he can actually pick me up."

"Certainly," Wolf said, glancing back at her. He grimaced. "Not before I put a hole in his skull; you bear that in mind." He passed her, the little bright light following him. "What the heck do you want with a scumbag like him, anyways?"

Fara shrugged. "He's got work for me. Aren't you wanted by the police?"

He clambered up a rock onto the road. "Yep."

"Where're you going?"

"Back to the house."

She followed him; if there was anyone who could find Leon, it was going to be Wolf. If she tagged along, she figured she could get things to come around to her way of thinking, namely her fingers on the controls of Leon's ship and Wolf down somewhere being earthbound and sulky.

Still, she wasn't entirely sure what he meant by a house. She figured a war criminal like him slept on a bed of moss in between two uncomfortable rocks. The appearance of the ancient-looking stone country house nestled on top of a cliff overlooking the ocean only served to confuse her further.

"Whose house is this?" she asked.

"Are you following me?"

"Whose house?"

"Mine. Part of the O'Donnell fortune. Are you following me?"

"I thought the government seized your property."

"They seized mine. This house was a great-uncle's. Technically, it still is."

The door opened and a little four-legged lizard loped out towards him, tongue hanging in the air. It leapt up at him and he stumbled back, saying, "Okay, okay, boy. Christ, I was gone for, what, two hours?"

"Master Wolf," an elderly bichon said, standing in the doorway. "Back so soon? Lunch isn't ready yet."

"I'm not hungry," Wolf said, pushing past her and disappearing into the house.

The old bichon pursed her lips, and then glanced back towards Fara. "My goodness," she said. "Are you a friend of Wolf?"

Fara flushed, and looked away. "Not really."

"Well, come in, dear, come in -- obviously, he's in one of his moods; come in, don't be shy, we don't bite."

She stepped into the house and felt a wave of age press down upon her. The house had to be at least two hundred years old. Bricks creaked, and furniture seemed to be at the cusp of falling apart, held together by nothing but good intentions. She got the glimpse of Wolf disappearing up a flight of carpeted stairs.

"Well, lunch will be ready," the bichon said, closing the door behind her. "Give it half an hour -- it's the cook's day off, so I'm running a little late."

"No worries," Fara said, quietly, suddenly uncomfortable.

There was a cry of surprise from above, and the bichon turned and shouted, "Oh yes, sir, I forgot! You have a visitor!"

Fara took to the stairs and gingerly climbed them, hearing voices echoing from the second floor.

"- you doing here?"

"Yeesh, Wolf, that any way to talk to your old buddy?"

"Old buddies, uninvited guests -- yeah, they get similar treatment."

"I just thought I'd drop by, buddy."

The second floor hall was musty with age -- it had wood finishing and extended down to an open door, with doors on either side. There was a state of an angel sitting next to the landing, a shelf above a door with old books, charts, and a sextant; there was a long fishing rod mounted on a wall, and an ancient cutlass on another.

Beyond the far door Fara could see light pouring in through two huge wall-sized windows, bathing a figure sitting in an easy chair in a white glow. The room was a library -- she could see books framing the easy chair on either side of a large fireplace.

Wolf stood in front of the figure, his body language confrontational; not the best at parties, are you, Wolf? she thought.

The figure leaned in, and the shadows peeled off him, and she could see his face, and see his grin; her blood turned cold. "I have something to show you, Wolf," he said.

Andrew Oikonny. Andross's nephew.

But wasn't he dead? Or supposed to be dead?

"You shouldn't have come here," Wolf said in a rumbling voice, moving out of the door frame.

Andrew saw her, stiffened and reached into his coat for a weapon.

"Do it!" Tinkerbell's voice called, the little ball of light shooting past Fara's sight. "Shoot the bitch!"

Andrew got out of the chair, aiming a large laser pistol. "Who's there? Is that Ms. Imelda? Come up slowly."

"Frightening my staff, are you, Andrew?" Wolf's voice came.

Why did I come here? Fara thought; why did I come?

"It's Fara," Andrew said, his voice molesting each syllable of her name. "Fara Phoenix."

"Yes," Wolf's voice said. "She's invited for lunch."

"Who invited her? You?"

"She invited herself, I think."

"Hands up where I can see them!"

"Andrew-"

"Mhm?"

"Put the gun down."

Andrew hesitated for a moment, and then set the gun down on the side table next to the armchair.

Fara bit her lower lip, thinking. What now? she thought; do I waltz in, try and play like Andrew Oikonny didn't just point a gun at my head?

"Gun's put down, Wolf," Andrew said, smugly.

Wolf's hands reached into frame and snatched Oikonny's collar. Wolf appeared, wrenching the ape off his feet and smashing him into the chair, knocking him over and sending him sprawling across the floor.

"What-?" Andrew cried, rolling onto his knees. "What the fuck, Wolf."

Wolf jumped over the overturned chair, yanked Andrew up and hurled him out of Fara's sight. She heard a crashing noise, and the heavy sound of books falling onto the ground.

A metallic schling -- Andrew appeared in-frame, stabbing at Wolf with a fire poker. Wolf ducked; the poker went over his shoulder; he moved and Andrew's head snapped back, blood flying from the ape's nose. Andrew fell out of frame again.

"Wolf-" Andrew's voice was pained. "Why-?"

"Let's play the explain game," Wolf said, moving towards Andrew and out of Fara's sight. "Let's play how did Andrew know where Wolf was. It's a fun game."

"Fuck, Wolf-! God, you psychopath."

More sounds of crashing, a low moan. Wolf's voice: "That blood I see, Andy?"

"Fuck-"

"Start playing the game, Andrew."

"Leon, you fucker! Leon told me!"

"How did Leon know?"

"I don't know-"

A unhappy noise from Andrew's throat; Fara flinched as Andrew flew into sight and hit the overturned arm-chair, limping collapsing over it like a rag doll.

"That doesn't make sense, Andrew," Wolf said, moving into frame to stand over the ape. "If he knew I was here, then why would he-?"

Wolf turned and stared at Fara. "Why would he come-?"

Fara felt very small standing on the landing like that. I'm in danger, she thought; I shouldn't have come.

"Why risk that?" Wolf said.

The voice of the bichon came up from the landing: "Luuunch is ready!"

Andrew uttered a low moan.

---

Krystal stood in the back of Slippy's little basement apartment, her black fur coat blending in with the darkness of the place. Beyond, in the little room that glowed from all of Slippy's equipment, she heard her boyfriend's ex-girlfriend's voice play over and over again.

"Let's try to just cut out some of the higher channels," Slippy said, leaning forwards so he could see the computer screen better. "There is something happening underneath all that, for sure--"

Standing next to him, Fox nodded, although he didn't really hear what he said. He was looking at Falco, and he was trying to contain what felt like a tempest rising up between his ribs -- Leon, here on Corneria, threatening Fara. It was all he could do not to go hijack an Arwing and fly out that moment, right then.

But fly out where?

"There!" Slippy said, his face white from the computer light. "Hear that? It's like a bass beat, but slower --"

"I hear it," Falco said.

"I don't," Fox said.

"Lemme cut a couple more channels here," Slippy said. "There, here that?"

It sounded like static to Fox's ears, but then... as he listened, it began to break up and remind him of something -- it was almost like listening to a memory instead of a sound.. it sounded almost exactly like-

"Waves," Krystal said, from behind them. "Those are waves."

"And seagulls," Falco said. "So we're close to land."

"Leon, Leon, Leon -- there was a sighting of him in a coastal town not too long ago," Slippy said. He tapped at his keyboard. "Government ships were sent out -- couldn't find him -- did anyone talk to anyone about maybe if Fara had mentioned anything? Like leaving anywhere?"

"I called Bill," Fox said, "but he said Fara hadn't talked to anyone since she was laid off."

"Boardwalk," Slippy said. He poked his monitor screen with his finger. "Lots of rocks up there -- lots of places for a ship to hide."

"What would he be doing there?" Falco said.

"It's a pretty good trade route," Slippy said. "Air pressures during the day are good for atmo-flying and it's smack dab between Nega City and Corneria City. I'd say he's been doing a little pirating."

"No," Fox said. "There's been hardly any lost ships along that region. I remember that Leon sighting -- any stuff like that and we'd have been notified, wouldn't we?"

Falco shrugged. "Probably."

"Then what's he doing there?" Slippy said.

"If he's there," Falco said.

Fox leaned back against the wall and said, "This is getting us nowhere."

"Still, though," Slippy said. "In the past two months, there's been three sightings of Leon in the core banks -- one at Boardwalk, one at Royal Station, orbiting Sector Y, and one at Boardwalk."

"Shall I book a ticket?" Krystal asked.

Fox glanced up at her and said, "If Leon's there, he'll never know what hit him."

And then there was something in his eyes that made Krystal glad she came along with them; a certain brilliance, the excitement that had been there when there were armadas on either side of them.

"Mhm," Krystal said. "Then let's go."

-----

"It's you," Wolf said, taking a step into the hall towards her. "He wants you -- that's why he's still hanging around."

He looked incredulous; he looked like he had just discovered a food that tasted odd, a piece of music with strange harmonies. As he stepped into the hall, he moved into silhouette, the shadows flowing over his shoulders and pooling in the dark fur on his face.

Fara took a step back; run, she thought; just run down the stairs, he'll never get to you in time.

Behind Wolf, Andrew moved, reaching for the discarded laser pistol. He snatched it, raised it, sending up the familiar whine of a charging weapon.

"Look out!" Fara cried.

But she hadn't needed to; the barrel of the pistol came squarely leveled not at Wolf but at her.

Andrew's eyes glittered with evil intent. "Say, Missy Phoenix, erg-" He got to his feet. "How's about you step inside here; maybe take a seat?"

Wolf paused and turned back to look at him. Andrew glanced at him, smiling, looking for approval, despite the blood pouring down from his noise, and the swollen purple bruise slowly closing his right eye. "See? You can trust me!"

"Take a comfortable chair," Wolf said quietly, moving past her now. Fara shuddered as he swept by the top the stairs. "Ms. Imelda!" he shouted down. "Set an extra place at the table!"

"Oh good!" the bichon said cheerfully.