Chapter 11-1: Old Friend

No silence hangs in Nether. The room is filled with the cries of Fox McCloud. Tied with chains and rope to the all-known chair, silky ghosts fly around his head. They utter high-pitched shrieks to force Fox into joining Délarbé's effort. He screamed 'STOP IT!' so many times his eyes started to get teary and his throat extremely hoarse. 'I'll never join him!' fell a couple of times as well.

*This… is too much for me. I'm losing it. I need help… Krystal… my friends… all not here. Only one to turn to in time of need.*

He looks up towards the ceiling of Nether. As his mind starts to lose it, it lets Fox vision a heavenly light descend upon him. The light forms the gateway to heaven. His torment is over. All he has to do, is scream his remaining lung capacity out.

'SAVE ME G...'

'SHHHUUUUT UP!' is heard screaming from down the hallway where normally "visitors" come out. 'Shut up! Shut up!' rambles Délarbé as he comes into the room, waving his arms around like trying to fend off a swarm of angry bees. The voices seem to plague him as much as Fox. They spot Délarbé and float towards him, leaving Fox in dear silence.

As they start to circle around his head, Fox can read the irritation and anger from his face as he pinches his nasal bone in between his right index finger and thumb. He grumbles deep with a demonic outro before hanging his head. He brings his burning index finger, the left one, closer to his mouth.

'Final warning...' he says threatening. The voices don't seem to listen. 'Your choice...'

He puts his burning finger in his mouth up until the cuticle. He bites it and his eyes open wide. As if he bit into something so incredibly spicy, that fire fills his mouth. He raises his head up in the air faster than the speed of light only to open his mouth. Out of the gaping darkness that is Délarbé's inside, comes an intense, all-consuming heat. No spark is necessary: an explosion of an eruption of jet flames spew out of Délarbé's mouth. The flames are negative-toned like you can do with photographs.

The flames instantly vaporize any voice it comes in contact with. Like a dragon in fox's clothing, Délarbé manages to smoke all voices within a mere minute. He cringes his fangs, looking around the room, exhausted from the outburst. He's so relieved and yet so tired: he just collapses onto the floor. His face and floor would have become one if didn't catch himself by falling "hands-forward" first.

Fox isn't doing so good either. He was on the verge of being broken, willing to shout out to someone who didn't help him before. The both of them pant and gasp, seemingly unable to be okay again.

'Aren't we a wreck...' comments Délarbé uplifting in between a pant.

'Amen... to that.' replies Fox as he throws his head back. The chair has no head support so it just hangs there. The back of his neck resting rather uncomfortably on the flat, hard and "shaped to be just painful enough" back support.

Délarbé rises his right arm in the arm and snaps with his fingers. Suddenly, the chains and ropes holding Fox in the chair burn away or snap. Délarbé spits on the ground to show that he caught his breath again. He slowly stands up and inhales deep.

'I thought you would be thrilled to be free...' says Délarbé unfulfilled. Fox, still a little dashy, comes close enough to his senses to see that he's actually free. No more spirit-breaking horseshit!

'S-sorry for what I did to you...'

*Wait... was that... an apology? From Délarbé? Do I have hearing problems already?*

When cartoonishly plugging his ears, he feels nothing obstructing. It has to be true.

'You? You are sorry?' he says before seeing in what condition Délarbé is in. Something has affected him, if it weren't worse enough with the wounds, bruises and marks on his face.

'I know. It sounds weird, but it's true. I'm truly sorry for what I did to you.' he repeats smiling on the wrong side of one's mouth. He allows himself to fall on the ground as he cringes a little. 'That's why I've released you.' he says looking up at Fox.

It's strange. Fox has the ability to run off, into the hallway to find a way back to the top world; to Krystal. All he needs to do is get out of his once confining chair and run like no tomorrow in case Délarbé is playing dumb. But something holds him there: the sight of Délarbé cringed on the floor before him. He's confused, tired, angry, scared and possibly not feeling well. Not that he would ever admit that. But that apology. It sounded so true and… frankly desperate. Like Fox was Délarbé's last resort he'll never be able to reach.

'Everything okay?' asks Fox on the nicest tone he can utter whilst still panting.

'No...' replies Délarbé peppered. 'No, everything is not okay. Okay? Everything is so... Fucked! How and why? No idea!' he rambles upset. 'I thought I had everything arranged! Still have, but it's just not the same, you know?' he asks to Fox half-ass as he's mostly pondering out loud.

Fox rises his eyebrows in ignorance over the subject. 'What's going on with you?'

'It just doesn't feel the same anymore.' His voice intensifies. 'The death, the blood, the souls... the glorious DAMAGE!' He hangs his head again after the praising reached its climax 'Nothing...'

Fox thinks it's all barebones. He has no idea what's going on with Délarbé and for that matter with himself. Some empathic connection allows him to feel what Délarbé feels.

'You better start explaining stuff.' speaks Fox demanding.

Délarbé turns his head away and continues pondering. 'It's just... No matter what I do... It doesn't...'

He tries every description to evade and detour himself around the only word describing what he is. That is until he runs out of options and starts to utter grunts and growls.

'I... I...' He looks up to Fox. 'I'm terrified okay!?' admits Délarbé at long last. 'Is that you wanted to hear!? I'm dead fucking terrified...'

'You!? You're terrified? For what could the spawn of Hell's Gatekeeper be pissing his pants?'

Délarbé gets the intention of that one. 'First thing, I'm not wearing any clothing.' he starts off hissing. 'Second, I' am this way because I can't find the pleasure I used to have in everything I stand for.' explains Délarbé attacked. 'Excuse me for I have feelings too and not being the generic, demonic killing machine. That murders all around for the lolls. Saying something about Krystal being a bitch...'

Fox, not intending to step on Délarbé's toes, now pinches his nasal bone. 'Just... tell me what's going on.'

Délarbé sighs deep before explaining his theory.

'When I take over the body of someone, I send his being to Nether and use the inner evil that brought me there in the first place to exact revenge. I do not require the original to operate at 100%. But with you... killing your father without you holding the string of Spawn with me. Revealing Krystal as the narrow-minded... CUNT she really is. I think I merged with your inner evil.'

It makes a little more sense to Fox. He didn't appreciate the insult towards Krystal, whom he still trusts with all his heart, but he can get where Délarbé is going. It explains why Fox feels what Délarbé is going through. The confusion is so own to him. It's very comparable to his own desperation when he was left on Titinia's surface to perish. He gets something for the hellish creature in ruins before him: compassion.

'If you merged with my inner evil, you've seen all I've seen. That means that, in some freakish way, you were always with me. Through the Lylat War on to the Anglar Blitz, you decided with me. You were a part of my consciousness.' concludes Fox a bit awkward. He corrects himself a little therefore. 'Well... an impersonation of it.'

Délarbé nods. 'Every part of your life has been stored within the inner evil's hard drive that I inherited. I know you inside and out. And you now know me inside and out as well.'

All good and all, but Fox is left with one puzzle piece still. Why can't he operate like he did when he got the first symbols? He was insane enough to kill the entire Starfox crew, the customer base and employees of a butchery, slice his own fur and that of the employees off, desecrate a holy hospital by manipulating a former mass-mutilator turned priest, turned surgeon into latching his new skin onto his flesh with barbwire as cement for his new self to get them.

'Why can't you operate like yourself? What's my role in all this?' asks Fox.

'Y-you... want to be more involved in this?' he asks insecure.

Fox raises his eyebrow again, saying: 'Are you kidding me?'

'Duh... I called upon you, remember? Granted, it was an act of rage but I did call upon you. It seems only logical to have some saying in this, not?'

Délarbé nods and shrugs as it's indeed logical.

'Then tell me everything. Keep me posted on what's going on with you.'

Finding this a great idea, Délarbé snaps his fingers. A chair, similar uncomfortable looking as Fox, appears behind him. He sits down and just stares at random directions. After a few breaths taken, he starts.

'The reason why I'm so down, is because the joy I had in killing and damaging is completely gone.'

'I got that. But why?' inquires Fox further.

'Because... you weren't there.' he points at Fox. 'You weren't there when I skewered your father and tried to force into believing that Krystal is nothing more than a phony. The most important moments I had to finish on my own. When it was done, I felt left out. I didn't want to admit to myself that I couldn't function without you.'

Fox sniggers lightly, mostly held back. 'Because you had feelings for me?'

Luckily, Délarbé can appreciate the cheap laugh. It goes to show that Fox is still Fox. Maybe an example he should follow too.

'Funny.' he comments with a small smile. 'Anyway... Where was I again?'

Fox waves it off as something he knew all along. 'I think I get the general premise of what you're trying to say.'

Délarbé looks him hopeful in the eye, doubting if he should say it or let Fox conclude it for himself. Fox makes that decision for him fortunately: 'You mean to say in between the second and third symbol, my inner evil merged with your being. Therefore, making you a hybrid that can only function properly if it doesn't miss it's other half.'

'Which is you.' adds Délarbé. 'But why didn't you come along with me? When you needed me? You wanted revenge on your father, Panther and Krystal. I gave that to you!' he shouts unappreciated.

'Hey there!' stops Fox, showing his borders by holding up his paw. 'I never asked for the torment of Krystal.'

'How about the other two then?' He hangs his head once more.

'Dé. Can I call you that?' he asks nicely as he puts a consoling paw on Délarbé's shoulder. 'I never said I didn't appreciate what you did for me. Killing my father might have been a little controversial and Krystal being way off grid, but I was having genuine fun punkin with Panther. It was the perfect punishment for dickbrain like that guy.'

Délarbé remembers Panther's first expression very vivid. It brings a bigger smile on his face, soon turning into a serious frown. Fox is in such a good mood, telling how much he enjoyed doing the haunted house experience with him while looking at the ceiling with crossed legs and relaxed folded arms. He's too occupied reliving that point in time, that he's unable to see that a Son of Plunder materializes next to Délarbé. It's the number four: Cuisac, the one sent out for a special mission. It hands him Phantom's tape recorder with a tape inside containing the incriminating evidence about Krystal. He quickly puts it in his backpack as the Son vaporizes. Meanwhile, Fox is continuing as Délarbé fully focuses on that, shadowing the tape for Fox for as long as possible.

'And then the second time we came back. We drew them out and stripped them from each other. One by one.'

'Oh! Remember when Wolf shot Leon in the stomach?' brings Délarbé up impassioned.

'Pfff! Remember? As if it just happened. It seems inhumane but it did close a significant chapter of my life. From the academy on, Wolf was always a pain in the neck. And... somehow, I owned him an apology?'

It's a vague for sure. In between the Lylat War and the Aparoids, nothing significant happened between Fox and Wolf. Not that he can remember.

'Yeah...' says Délarbé questioning. 'What was the reason for that again?'

Fox's mouth flattens as he shrugs. 'No clue. What I do know, is that when I punctured that arrow through him...' He slowly reinacts what he did. The arrow forcing its through every vertebra until it finally thaws out of Wolf's chest. '...I returned the favor!' he exclaims euphoric resulting in a convulsion of laughter with Délarbé.

'Ghahaa! If I had a drink, I would toast on that.'

He raises his arm by ways of. Silence slowly takes over as the both can't seem to drag any more fun out of it. Fox feels like he should hate this and Délarbé the exact opposite.

'Fox...?' The question comes out the blue, startling Fox a little thanks to the lack of any sounds in this white room. He reacts as if woken up from slumber.

'Whaz? Who? Oh... a little sleepy. Sorry...'

Sleep. What was once the normal day-to-day routine, was never present in Nether. Actually, nothing of that sort. The chains were not only there to contain him, but also preserve. Thinking about preserving as in stuffed animals, he quickly drops it.

'You said something?' he says hazy while rubbing in his eyes.

'Uhm... I did, yes. I uh...'

He has trouble finding the right words as he reaches inside his backpack. He grabs the recorder and holds it in front of his face. He turns his paw around to show Fox what he's holding. Fox looks weird at the old piece of technology. Still trying to find the right words, he bites his teeth and stretches his arm out towards Fox. He gestures him to take it. A little reticent, he takes it out Délarbé's unusually cold left paw.

*Shouldn't the flame heat things up?* he thinks as he observes Délarbé withdraw his arm, rather shaky and rigid. He covers it up by loosening up the rest of his body and acts like nothing is wrong.

'Why are you handing me a tape recorder? You want to send me to the stone age as well?' says Fox ludicrously.

'Hehe.' he sniggers, somehow a little hoarse and wheezy. He haggles heavily, as if he was gonna throw up before he speaks normally again. 'I know what I did wrong.'

'Oh really?' says the accusing look on Fox's face.

'I should have never forced you to want Krystal dead. Like I wanted. You just wanted to say what you felt towards her. And you did; you cursed and scolded her out like the passive waste I think she is. At that moment, I think you too.'

Fox shrugs indefinite.

'After that, you felt relieved and your love for her surfaced out of the sea of anger.'

'Like the use of the symbolism.' adds Fox in between drawing his attention from the recorder away for a moment.

'She rescued you from drowning in your own sorrow by promising that she would get you out. I was only trying to prove that she was betraying you.'

'With tormenting spirits that were annoying as all hell?'

'I was pissed off that you left. Again. So I thought: 'If careful persuasion doesn't work, maybe an old method will do.' He grumbles at the failure. 'It backfired. I was fully merged with your inner evil so I heard the same eerie voices circling around me too. They just wouldn't leave me alone. Even when I stared them in the eye, it was like a ghost to them. All they saw, was you.'

His voice begins to show signs of decay again. With a faked couch at the end, he tries to cover it up. The fake cough ends up into a harsh, heave-triggering barrage of stuck air. Slime and even some unwanted blood spills out of the corners of his mouth. He wipes his mouth as he reclaims his breath. His fur looks more pale than before.

'Are you... sick?' asks Fox genuinely concerned.

He waves it off quickly and begins to point at the recorder while holding back another coughing fit.

'It has something to do with this?'

Délarbé swallows hard before pounding himself on the chest.

'Blegh!' he exclaims grossed out. 'That tasted horrible! And no, this had nothing to do with that. The recorder I handed you contains...' He stagnates.

'Contains... what?' inquires Fox.

'It contains the evidence that Krystal has betrayed you.' spits Délarbé out.

Fox's eyes open wide. They look down at the recorder. At first, nothing but an ancient device. It's impressive that it might still work. But now it could be holding the truth about Krystal's true intentions. Délarbé holds his own paws together with a neutral expression on his face. Under that is a decaying person bent on getting back what was once his. Without it, he will crumble until he will vanish completely.

Fox feels the approaching emptiness inside Délarbé who looks like nothing is wrong at all. As if he already accepted his fate. Death perhaps? He doesn't want to find out.

'Délarbé... a-are you okay?' asks Fox painful.

'Geh heh.' he laughs a little uneasy. 'I'm perfectly fine Foxy. Just do what needs to be done and then I'm out.'

The tone is so friendly and composing. A dying man's last words always seem to hit the hardest.

'Out as in... dead?' His lips shudder when speaking of that word. 'Y-you can't die... please.' he pleads. 'I'm sorry for what I did Dé. If I had known all this...'

Fox is interrupted by Délarbé silencing him by pressing his left index finger against his lips.

'Sssshhh.' soothes Délarbé as the flame calmly sits in between Fox's eyes at the tip of his muzzle. It makes him a little sleepy as he squints his eyes a little. The tunnel vision effect comes in, like so many of Délarbé's victims suffered. When the flame disappears, all looks fuzzy and drowsy. Total darkness surrounds him, except for Délarbé and his spot. It highlights the menacing demon in a different light: even he can be broken.

'So you see Fox...' he speaks with great hardship, breathing like he's having a pneumothorax. His skin starts to peel as every bit of color seems to drain. The bloody tears go up in smoke as the symbols reduce to chalk drawing found on sidewalks. 'Stubbornness has its consequences. Play the tape for the truth. Hopefully, you can then accept me as a part of you.'

He takes a quick breath.

'Push the "record" button to erase it and live on like an... geh heh. Ignorant fool!'

A last exclamation from Délarbé as an encore to an act. That is exactly how it all felt to him; an act. Ever since the realization of the merging, he searched for an identity. As psychotic and perfectly over the top like The Joker in the Russian café or as cold-blooded as the insane pirate Vaas he saw on that billboard. And finally, the curtain closes with a for filled Délarbé on the other side.

'An... an ignorant fool... yes...' are the thankful words Délarbé gives to Fox before his voice subsides into his last breath.

'Rest well… my… my old friend.' mutters Fox. 'Thank you for killing the hauntings in my life.'

Under the watery eyes, both from the urge to sleep and the emotion of already losing a only now accepted friend, Délarbé kicks the bucket with an inner smile and one... on his face.

Lustre slowly fades away into darkness as Fox's head bobs like a similarly named figure.

'The truth... play for the truth. Record to erase the truth.' echoes for the last time in his head before he closes his eyes. 'The truth... play for the truth. Record to erase the truth.'