Chapter Two

Oblivion

Authors Note:

SHORT CHAPTER INCOMING!

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Thumbing through the pages of my fantasies
I'm above you, smiling at you, drown, drown, drown
I wanna kill and rape you the way you raped me
And I'll pull the trigger
And you're down, down, down

Korn - "Thoughtless"

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"Otto von Hiedrich, what you have done was a disgrace to the country, a disgrace to our planet, and a disgrace to yourself. Ballistic evidence shows that you and only you fired upon Ulrich Wurz and Michael Drescher. For these atrocities that you have brought onto this planet, I hereby banish you from Besdolore indefinitely. Enjoy oblivion Otto…"

The words played in Otto's mind like a CD on repeat. Every little line, every breath he made was remembered. One day, he was living a fairly rewarding lifestyle with a nice paycheck. The next, he was forcefully exiled from his home, and given an old ship that could barely run on its own power, the canine was left to wander the galaxy alone…

His ship which he appropriately named The Junkyard, could hold a two man crew if you were lucky. Even Otto had problems with the cramped quarters he stood in at that very moment. His room consisted of a single set of bunks. The actual bunks themselves were a bit on the short side and left very little stretching room for the rather tall hound.

Otto paced back and forth down the artificial hall made of a storage compartment on one end, and his bunk on the other. He was in deep thought, racking his brain over something. He paused in mid-stride and got in the top bunk. His knees were bent so his legs wouldn't hang off the edge.

While Otto laid there, he began to mumble something. It started off quiet, but it eventually became more audible. The way he said it was also becoming more intense. Beginning as a whisper, and finally becoming almost a growl.

"Michael…"

The backstabbing double agent. He couldn't stop saying his name. It brought pure rage to his head at the thought, but absolute pleasure when he thought about the possible ways he could get back. His mind became a book of grotesque fantasies, with him thumbing through and smiling at each and every page . He had never felt this way before, sure he was a mercenary for hire and he was paid to kill, but for the first time, he wanted to kill someone for free.

"Michael…Michael…" His voice became faster and louder, panting heavily. He was sweating now, his coat of fur began to look extremely greasy with all the perspiration. Otto's sharp teeth were now visible, looking like small knives that were ready to penetrate anything that got in his way.

And then, he snapped. Otto shot up from his bunk, smashing his head on the ceiling but it didn't seem to phase him. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU MICHAEL!" The canine screamed. But he came back to his senses, looking around the room as if there were millions watching over him. Nobody was, but in the past two days, millions knew him. The hound laid back down and shut his grey eyes, the lack of any communication with others had really gotten to him.

Before he drifted out of consciousness, Otto mumbled something…

"I'll find you…mark my words…"

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Falco was sitting in his quarters, still irritated at the events that had preceded. He looked forward to their stop in Zoness. Since their victory there almost ten years ago, the horrid pollution that plagued the waters and atmosphere was almost completely cleared out. The once thriving planet was slowly returning to its former glory. Their trip there would be a good time to unwind and possibly make amends with Wolf.

" Can't he just focus on work? He's way too obsessed with that Serena chick…" He thought aloud. Deep down, he knew that the only reason he thought this way was because he hadn't experienced life with a wife. Being very far away from someone you cared about can do a number on you. He knew Fox was like that whenever Krystal wasn't around, but since they worked together, it didn't happen very often.

"I gotta make things right." Even in his head, the fact that he said that was shocking. The self centered world he had lived in for the past few years had taken a surprising turn.

"Hey Falco!" Slippy yelled from outside. "We're about to land! Get your stuff together!"

"Yeah, whatever! I'll be right there." The avian stood up and opened his closet door, indiscriminately grabbing clothing without much thought. After packing both his supplies and his emotions, he walked toward the bridge.