A/N: Hey everyone, I'd like to thank you all for your support and your generous feedback, it really helps a lot.

And Comrade, I do value criticism so don't be afraid to say what's on your mind. So, without further ado, the latest chapter.

Badlander

Chapter 12: Standoff

Major Victor Zogz was a reptile of many talents. First he had been scientist, and at that he had excelled. Then he had become a Venomian mercenary. At that he had been merely wasting his time, since Star Fox had taught him and his peers a new meaning for defeat by annihilating everything that crazy ape Andross threw at them before annihilating Andross himself. Zogz wasn't sure whether or not he really cared that Venom had met its untimely demise at the hands of the capitalists.

At first, Andross had banded the Venomians together by playing on their common hatred for the well-off denizens of Corneria, but truly the ape did not care for the benefit of the common people. Although his demise eventually made things easier for the fat cats back on the homeworld, Zogz took solace in the fact that the genocidal maniac was gone for good.

And now, sitting in the cold operations room of the Fichina Military Research Facility, he had become a soldier fighting for the cause of the Cornerian people, who had, for too long suffered under the ever-present lording of the bourgeoisie.

"Zogz!" the loud, pained voice of his General called out to him. The reptile turned from the scene of his various subordinates carefully dismantling the Fichina Weather Control Device. The facets of this plan were barbaric to say the least; Comrades and capitalists alike would die by the thousands today if everything happened as it was supposed to, and briefly Zogz questioned whether or not he were any better than Andross.

At least I'm doing this for the greater good of the Lylatian people. He considered, and for the moment that thought was enough. The screams of the imminently damned would not reach his ears, and from the loss would spring a great, equalized society, no longer burdened by wealth or tainted by poverty. Besides, no matter what his feelings were on the subject, there was no turning back now.

Gideon Waller shivered as he bent down to search the torn bodies for valuables. So far, he had managed to scavenge some basic energy weapons and batteries – he pocketed those (they would come in handy if his jolly old Tommy Gun had decided to run out of bullets). The object of his next search had been a rather large reptilian who had blast trauma center-mass reminiscent of a .45 ACP round.

His search was quick and methodical, as he had trained it to be since he was a little boy barely scraping by after he escaped into the Badlands of New York. Corpses were a common sight in the forgotten world beneath America's greatest city, but food and medicine weren't, and one had to be quick in order to completely strip a body of valuables before the Vulture Tribes descended upon the scene – and they didn't care if the people they tore apart were living or dead.

Life down in the pit had taught him to be a survivor. He had originally fought and resisted the urge – the need – to desecrate the dead, all for some vain hope of preserving… What was it? He wondered. My humanity? Heh. Well, if I ever had humanity, the Badlands stripped it from me just as I have scavenged anything useful from these corpses. He narrowed his eyes and his fingers continued to move, swiftly searching the reptilian, driven only by the need to survive.

His search turned up nothing useful so he trudged softly back to his group. He winced lowly as they immediately and inevitably scrutinized him upon his return.

Monster.

The word was written all over their faces, thrust upon him like a death sentence he could not repeal or object. Gideon knew that once people made up their minds about him, their thoughts were set, and there was nothing he could do to make himself… more, better; something worthy of a feeling other than fear. But it was futile. The universe couldn't unwind itself and memories were not forgotten, and wounds never healed.

"Wow. You're quite the survivor, Captain," Carson said, though Gideon could tell that this was not a compliment. The wavering ire in the ferret's voice conveyed the fear and nervousness he had grown all too familiar with in his dealings with the strange organisms known as People.

Often, the people Gideon met or who served under him had never considered him with anything other than nervousness or fear. Even Hazel, for whom he had grown to care for had rejected him once she had seen the parts of him that people were always afraid of. It wasn't fair. People coddled him like a fragile toy once they had learned of his tortured past, but they always expected him to be better for it – to rebel against the circumstances which had made him so irrevocably miserable.

People didn't know how to react when they saw how just much those events had changed him, molded him into something different; something ugly. Maybe it was because people had it in their minds that the victim was supposed to be a Good Guy. And they always blamed him for not aspiring to be "normal" like them, as if their lives represented the epitome of all existence. And the truth was: they were right, but for the wrong reasons.

Many times in his life, Gideon had felt the opportunity to change things, and many times he had passed on those opportunities. He wasn't strong like the heroes he so desperately wanted to be, or like Fox McCloud who inspired the love of his teammates and his home system. Gideon was weak, empty, slow to change and slower to accept change. He would always be a monster, he knew. That was the only thing he would ever be good at.

But the worst thing about being a monster wasn't the fear and rejection it brought from other people, it was the stress of acting normal for people who couldn't stand being afraid, all the time knowing he was a monster, and that no amount of acting or pretention could change that.

He looked up. His companions were studying him differently now – it wasn't fear but rather intrigue that was written upon their faces, and in Hazel's golden eyes especially. Those warm orbs studied him from the cold of the nipping air. He was relieved that she looked more like herself. Perhaps she would forgive him. He hoped.

"Yeah," Gideon replied softly and turned to face the ferret, "But Lieutenant, sometimes surviving isn't the same as living." He concluded grimly and turned to face his goal, the object of his mission on that desolate world.

Gideon trudged ahead into the snow, towards the looming building that waited in the distance, unaware of the perplexed looks his companions exchanged before they fell in line.

"Shields down to thirty-seven percent!" Peppy's tactical officer, a white arctic vulpine, announced across the quaking bridge of the CFS Horizon. Mere minutes ago, seven enemy starships had appeared seemingly from out of nowhere, attacking the Horizon and the strange human ship without announcement or provocation.

Although Lylat was enduring a period of civil war, surely the enemy had better things to do than annihilate a single frigate and merchant ship that orbited a relatively unimportant world. At least that's what Colonel Peppy Hare thought before the human ship sprouted giant hypervelocity cannons that sent projectiles sheering through at least two of the enemy vessels so far.

Were the enemy ships here for the human merchant-ish ship? Perhaps more curiously, was the human ship here to aid in the war effort? It would explain a great many things considering how utterly powerful the aging vessel's cannons appeared to be, but why would humans risk escalating the Soviet-American conflict? Wouldn't the whole damned universe be at stake if that happened?

The hull shook once more and Peppy glanced again at the human ship.

A massive volley of yellow energy bolts smashed into the gray ship, burning through its heavy armor. He could almost hear the crunch of the ship's hypercannons as they were torn apart one by one, spinning endlessly into the blackness of space.

"Crap," he breathed, but the sudden damage to the Hinomaru had surely opened a window of opportunity. He turned to one of his lieutenants. "Bring us about and fire on the lead craft!"

The subordinate nodded and brought the ship around, arcing the silver-blue hull against the backdrop of the gleaming white planet below. The officer leveled the ship, dodging the stray energy blasts that inevitably trailed across the vacuum of space in the direction of Peppy's ship, but the enemies were so utterly focused on obliterating the human ship, they didn't realize that Peppy had a secret weapon.

He let a small smile play about his face.

"Lieutenant, execute protocol: Barrel Roll."

He had just enough time to hear Katt smack her head in frustration before the Horizon's energy banks began firing.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Hazel asked, wholly aware of the answer. She just felt like pressing Gideon's buttons, especially since he had just shown that he wasn't the heartless monster he made himself out to be. Even though he had ordered her to eliminate people who by all means did not deserve to die, he had shown regret after doing so, more so after she had treated him coldly, and he had retreated further into his shell (his Broodsphere, as she had come to call it). This of course only made her more interested in him, despite the fact that every fiber of reason within her was screaming at her to stay away from him.

The memories he had threatened to unearth…

She sighed and continued to walk, keeping a short distance between herself and the lumbering human ahead of her. He was dangerous, she knew, and deadly, and not in a sexy way, so why the hell did she have this strange, nameless… feeling whenever they were close? She knew she should be scared of him – she had every right to be once he had demonstrated his familiarity with killing and looting the enemy soldiers, and for a while she thought she was scared of him, but the feeling was somehow different. And she did not know why or how. There was nothing worse or more painful for Hazel than not knowing how she felt about something.

Well, there was this one time you failed… failed everyone…

She forced the memories back down. Forgetting was like stemming the tide of a roaring river. The longer she did so, the more she felt the tide of the memories pushing, threatening to break through the barriers she had set up. And memories, much like the tide of a river, hated to be held back.

She shook her head and re-immersed herself in her analysis of Gideon's Broodsphere.

Gideon was a strange man because he seemed capable of both drawing her interest and infuriating her at the same time. In that respect, he was very similar to the trashy soaps she used to watch as a teenager; the characters were often bland and idiotic, but the chemistry and contrived plots between them prevented her from looking away. The characters seemed resolved in their mission to burn holes in the brains and hearts of Cornerian teenagers. And she had hated and loved them at the same time for it.

Maybe that's why we have a civil war now, she thought dryly. It's all because of bad soap operas.

That was when Carson decided to be helpful.

"I think he's talking about the contrived dissimilarity between the hunter-gatherer need for food, water, and, um, procreation and-"

"Oh. Procreation, huh?" Hazel asked, already in a good mood now that the ferret had provided her with an opening for her teasing.

Carson glared at her, unfazed, perhaps sensing the teasing aura in her voice. She had to give him credit: Second Lieutenant Sam Carson was a lot smarter than he let on.

"Yeah, you know, sex?" Carson wondered, his eyes mockingly serious, "Perhaps you're unfamiliar with it?"

Well played.

Hazel shook her head and smiled.

"Shut up," she said to him, earning a low grin from Carson. She was prepared for a retort, but to the ferret's credit he remained silent.

She looked up when Gideon tensed visibly in front of her. Was he trying to stop himself from smiling? Maybe she could draw him into the group if she kept talking. It was a longshot, but it was worth a try.

"So, Carson -" she began when Gideon interrupted her. She drew in a breath of frustration. That man had to have the absolute worst timing of all, well… time.

He held up an arm and fist in the universal military gesture for "stop moving and shut the hell up". Instantly, Hazel was alert, scanning the environment for any signs of hostility. She could find none. Her hand hovered over the trigger of her newly acquired automatic energy weapon. The dark metal gleamed hauntingly in the empty Fichina breeze.

"Don't move," he said sharply and turned to face her. He narrowed his otherworldly blue eyes. "Keep your weapons holstered." He continued, and focused his gaze upon a single tree that separated the group from the Fichina Military Research Center.

The reddish vixen gasped as a woman appeared from behind the tree quieter than the breeze that nipped at her sensitive ears. Her blonde hair was wrapped behind her in a ponytail that rippled in the wind. Her face and her eyes were fiercely simian. The woman before them stood at least six feet tall and wore a simple gray jumpsuit. The thing that struck Hazel the most though was the ridiculously-sized gun that was aimed straight at Gideon's head.

The sniper… She realized.

Hazel was surprised when Gideon flinched nearly imperceptibly, but it was there – she had grown more familiar with the man's facial twitches since she had met him. A minor facial twitch on Gideon may as well have been a gasp of fear or surprise. Or hurt, she considered silently. Maybe he really was more alive than he let on.

The simian let a predatory smile spread across her face, perhaps noticing Gideon's momentary flinch, but the smile faded when the human's face hardened, once again solidifying into the impenetrable mask Hazel had grown exceedingly irritated with. This time, however, Hazel wondered if Gideon's stoicism would be the only reason she would walk away from this encounter alive.

"Drop your weapons, Malakhim," the Simian said sharply, gesturing toward the various energy weapons Gideon had acquired from the fallen enemy soldiers.

"How do you know that I'm a Malakhim?" He wondered aloud. Suddenly, he stepped forward.

"Gideon, wait!" Hazel pleaded, but she was too late. The sniper rifle exploded mere inches from Gideon, but he had somehow managed to knock the barrel away just in time to avoid the shot. Hazel moved to intervene, but in an incomprehensible blur of motion, Gideon had drawn his sword and held it up to simian's neckline. The sniper responded by aiming her rifle at Gideon's center-mass. They were at a stalemate.

"Useless sword, my ass," Carson muttered under his breath and Hazel glared at him.

"Who sent you? Was it The Watch? Answer me now," He growled, his tone dark and menacing. Now, Hazel was afraid, but she wasn't sure if she was afraid for him or of him.

Hazel's heart stopped as Gideon gazed into the primate's hostile jade-green eyes which widened at the human's words.

"You don't remember, do you?" He wondered and lowered his sword.

"Who the hell are you and how do you know anything about me?" The simian swore and jabbed him the chest with her rifle in show of strength, but the waver in her voice told Hazel that the ape's confidence was diminishing. It was almost as if Gideon knew more about the primate than she knew about herself. It was spooky how Gideon just seemed to know things.

"Andrea Jade Bowman," he said softly and patted the sniper barrel gently away from his chest. The simian woman did not resist.

Bowman. Hazel thought. Why does that name sound familiar?

"You're a wanted woman back on Neo," he continued. His pale face and gleaming blue eyes betrayed no emotion.

"How – who the hell are you?" Andrea choked uncertainly as if he had hit her in a weak spot.

Uncertainty, aggression, stress of the word 'who'… classic amnesiac symptoms. Hazel considered silently, remembering the occasional living blank slate that wandered into her previous medical office. Unfortunately, memory was a tricky thing. Hazel knew better than most that memories seemed to have a mind of their own – Ugh… pun. She thought to herself and shook her head.

"I'm Captain Gideon Waller," he said and turned to gesture toward her. "This is Lieutenant Hazel Bartlett and the ferret is Lieutenant Sam Carson. We're here to evict the communists from the nearby science facility. Will you help us?"

"I –"

"I'll tell you everything you want to know if you help us clear this base. Something tells me you have keen insight into its layout and troop compliment."

"Don't forget about the hostages," Carson said crossly, glaring at Gideon, and Hazel was instantly reminded that Carson's father may very well be held hostage within the walls of the nearby building.

"Sorry," Gideon said lowly and Carson merely shook his head.

"I didn't see anyone unarmed in the fucking place," Andrea said, regaining her confidence. "But I did hear something about a General Solarex extracting some Device from the facility. Seemed like it was important."

"The Device…" Carson breathed, "It all makes sense now."

"What Device?" Hazel pressed. "What makes sense?"

"The commies are going to steal the Fichina Weather Control Device," the ferret stated with sheer finality. Hazel's eyes widened, fully aware of the implications of the oncoming firestorm that would tip the balance of power in the Lylat System.

"Weather Control Device?" Gideon wondered, then his eyes widened, likely remembering the sudden storm that had downed their shuttle merely a day ago.

"If they take something that powerful," Gideon continued, "They could destroy all of Corneria City."

"What?" he asked when no one said anything further.

Carson walked up to him, his eyes dark and full of worry.

"That device is the only thing keeping Fichina's weather from freezing us to death. If the communists take the device, everyone on this planet without some form of ship-grade protection is gonna die."

Gideon's eyes widened and then he shook his head. Hazel watched as a drift of snow settled on his dark patch of hair, where the hair follicles caught the snowflakes, making them hover like stars above his head.

"But the communists have thousands of troops here – why would they destroy the planet's ecosystem if…" he trailed off, suddenly realizing what Hazel had known since the Weather Control Device was mentioned.

"They're going to make it look like we deactivated the device to kill the communists…" Hazel said.

"…And when the public gets hold of that the citizens will crucify the Cornerian government. The communists won't even have to fight a war," Gideon finished. They gazed into each other's eyes, recognizing the threshold they had to cross together, for the sake of millions of lives.

Just as he spoke, the sky above churned and a low, humming vibration filtered through the ground.

"It's already started," Carson said.

Gideon nodded and unshouldered his Thompson.

"Then we have no time to waste."

A/N: Alright so the characters have finally managed to meet their mysterious sniper. Oh, and DaLintyMan, everything will be developed in due time, so please be patient. I have a feeling you'll enjoy what I have in store for the gang in the later chapters.