7-6-2014: Sorry but no remaster of Chapter 4: Face the remnants this time. Had the worst day today. Instead, only a brand new chapter. The second part of Chapter 11: Old friend. Time to meet a part of me...

Chapter 11-2: Old Friend: A part of me

'Uurgh...' moans Fox as he wakes up from the worst nap he ever had. His head feels as heavy as a cinder-block container full of them while nothing but baked air circulates inside. What rough party was he a part of? On what kind of drugs has he been?

'Bwuuuurgh... that was the most, and I mean the most elaborate and complicated nightmare I've ever had.'

He looks around to find he's still in the same room. Either he's having his own Inception problem or this is reality. Knowing that the other was a movie that has been remade countless times.

He gives himself a good smack, resetting his mind. Memories of the hours before his little nap start to dawn again.

He's still in the same darkness as he was before the nap, only this time there is no second lit spot. No chair before him. No Délarbé facing him.

*Is he... dead?*

He lifts his arms off the arm rail they were resting on. It's harder than he thought. As if he wasn't able to do that for years. He turns his paws towards him, seeing the palms. He clenches his paws into a fist and opens them again. Something is off about it all. It doesn't feel natural while it should be. Feeling in the rest of body slowly flows in again, like hunger and an itch after just waking up. A barely noticeable pressure on his lap is felt when he tries to stand up. Looking down, it is revealed to be the tape recorder.

'The truth.' says Fox to himself before he looks towards the spot where Délarbé was. Nothing but darkness.

'Dé? Are you still here?' he calls out. No answer is given. 'Dé?!'

His voice intensifies and becomes more desperate every second. He didn't really see Délarbé die. His last breath maybe but not steady and scientific conformation.

'He can't be dead. Or gone. He's a demon! He needs... holy water or a crucifix to be killed. Not... the inability to do what he was made for.'

He stands up from his chair and places the recorder on the floor. The chair makes a screeching sound as the legs slide unpolished over the ground. The noise quickly drowns out in an endless echo, disappearing in the pitch black.

'Argh! How did he do this again?' grumbles Fox.

He snaps his fingers just like Délarbé did it, but nothing happens. 'Hmm... maybe it was a different tone setting? With the tune he constantly whistles?'

He snaps his fingers a little faster, creating a slightly adjusted SNAP sound. Without any warning or notification, a flashlight drops down on the floor next to him.

'Cool...' comments Fox undone as he bends over to pick it up. He pushes the button on top as a bright light shines out of it. The only thing he sees are the white tiled walls, the borders of the Nether if you will.

'He's not here.' he concludes dejected as he falls back into the chair. He was joking himself the ordeal through. He should have known. He did die in front of his eyes. He even said goodbye to him before he fell asleep.

His right paw moves over to his face as he drops his head into it. He closes his eyes in grief and disbelief at the fact that a part of him is gone forever. He separates his fingers and opens only his left eye. He looks directly at the tape recorder. That seems to be his only way out.

'The truth or an ignorant fool.' he says to himself before groaningly bending over to grab the recorder.

All buttons are gone, taken off like keys on a keyboard. Except for two, a black one and a red one. The black one displays an arrow and the red one a circle.

'Moving on, or enter the vicious circle of Limbo.' suddenly comes to mind. It's startling to realize how lively that sounded. As if it was a great memory. He looks around, but no one is around to speak to him. Then it hits him: a slightly distorted vision into one of the most influential moments of his life: the news he got from Peppy, that his father died on Venom.

'Hey gramps! Back from Venom already?'

'Yeah... uh... I' am.' he replies uneasy as he walks over to the big comfy chair in the living room where a younger Fox McCloud is watching TV. Quickly, he turns it off to listen to Peppy's experience.

'So tell me Pep. How was Venom?'

Peppy has no idea how to formulate 'your father is dead' to a jacked up 11-year old Fox, totally intrigued by Starfox and of course his own father.

'Fox... I have to tell you that...'

He swallows his words as the Cornerian Army Funeral Service enters. Two men stand just outside the living room, wearing white bands around their right upper arms and a dark green uniform. Fox even knows one of them. A friendly colleague of his dad he saw once in a while. A grey-furred dog with the name of Henry Grey, father of Bill Grey. A hobbyist magician who could perform a few nice tricks here and there. Always when Fox and his father visited the base Starfox was based before the original Great Fox was build, Henry always knew how to make the trip a little more entertaining and more magical.

But this time it's a visit for fun. The enthusiastic Fox starts to see the reason why Peppy came back so early and was escorted by the Funeral Service. Whatever happened on Venom, didn't make his father return.

'My father is...' Tears run down the young Fox's cheeks as he looks pleading at Peppy. Eyes begging to him; 'Don't let him be dead.' But Peppy closes his eyes and lets a tear as well.

'Pigma betrayed us.' he confesses. 'Your father was caught in the crossfire. I was barely able to fly back.'

Fox almost wants to say that he wishes it was his dad instead of Peppy, but he can't.

'Peppy Hare.' calls one of the Funeral Service men. 'General Pepper is expecting your presence.'

Peppy nods understanding and gets out of his chair. He walks away from a cringing and weeping Fox, collapsing onto his knees.

'Henry.' tells Peppy in between them. 'Stay with him. I can't possibly leave him alone after this. I'll be back as soon as possible.' he guarantees hopefully. He places, rather slaps a trusting paw on Henry's right shoulder. His eyes asking for conformation.

'I'm staying with the youngling. No worry.' assures Henry as he shakes Peppy's other paw.

'I'm really trying to come back as fast as I can. Till then... he's your responsibility.' stresses Peppy again before leaving with the other Service 's endless sniffing and crying is the only thing that makes any sort of sound. Henry, a little awkward, unsure what to do, approaches the beaten down Fox.

From the present perspective, as Fox is now, he can see something materialize in the chair where Peppy sat. It's Délarbé, appearing appearing as himself. Only the color and form of his eyes are different. Blue and looking like a real iris instead of the pentagram.

He points at Henry's head, who freezes for just a split-second. The red dots appear in his pupils. To Fox's astonishment, Délarbé didn't just became his inner evil, but was also present at every moment of hardship.

He controls Henry as he comes closer to the younger Fox.

'Why did Peppy leave?' asks the tear-soaked young Fox.

'He has a tough time too. Your father was a very good friend of him.'

'I-I know... b-but...'

'Sshssh. It's alright. Peppy had no idea how to handle with this. How you're handling this, is fantastic. Very mature of you. Your father would have been so proud of you.'

Fox looks directly into Henry's eyes, not minding the dots. 'You really think s-so?'

He wipes his eyes with his sleeves. Henry rubs over his head, through his yet to be shaved jumble of hair.

'I know he would. And I also know that you didn't mean what you thought.' gestures Henry mysterious. Fox looks up.

'Wha... how did you?'

Henry winks. 'That was your father. He told me.' Henry points upwards as Délarbé points with him. The young Fox looks where Henry is pointing at: the sky... Heaven. 'He watches over you. And he wants me to...'

He lifts his right ear further into the air to act as if he needs a better connection. To add to the act, he takes his cap off for the optimal reception.

'Are you sure? Really? Wow... he'll be delighted.' He turns to Fox, who's already more focused on Henry's trick arsenal than the reason be had to cry. That something, turned into something fascinating rather than deep sorrow. 'He wants me to give you this.'

From his jacket pocket, he grabs a red scarf, a near-identical replica to his fathers. He carefully binds it around Fox's neck. 'Wouldn't you look at that? I had no idea James had a twin.'

The image of Henry, controlled by Délarbé, hugging his younger self is unbelievable. After this, Henry convinced to go Peppy's place the next day and talk it over.

'Moving on, or enter the vicious circle of Limbo.' were Henry's words that convinced him to move on. Magical words he claimed it to be, to not spook Fox off.

That's how he enrolled in the academy at the age of 16 with Henry's son Bill. Of course, after finding out his dad was a Starfox addicted deceiver, that memory isn't as incredible any longer.

'I can't believe it. Délarbé had my back all along. That's why he couldn't fix it with others: he had his focus on me. Because I was weak... or because he was indeed searching for an identity?'

He looks down at the recorder in his left paw, with his fingers on the buttons. Whatever is on that tape, must be crucial. Otherwise that memory must have been a letdown. The choice is rather easy: the love of his life that might be committing the worst kind of treason or the old friend that searched for him and manipulated all to make sure things ended up the way they did.

'I'm moving on.' he says to himself as he presses the black button. Without directly knowing it, he accepts thereby Délarbé as his other half.

The tape begins to roll as Fox brings it closer to his ears. He hears branches snapping and bark crumble. Someone is climbing into a tree. Gargling and snorting noises of a known Son vary in between. Suddenly, Fox hears a vague, female voice becoming clearer.

'K-Krystal?' stumbles Fox startled. She's mumbling a little, as if only just awoken from a deep sleep. 'What is she doing? Talking to someone else?'

A tune from his own phone is then as it intercepts a conversation between Krystal and someone else who remains quiet for the time being.

'Phone! Conversation!' clarifies a crooked voice into the recorder. It's a little loud, suggesting that the taping Son held it close to his mouth. To avoid that Krystal heard him?

'Purple version of snake out the Eden tree!' preaches the same voice directly into the recorder.

*A bible reference? Too bad I sucked at theology.* jokes Fox with himself.

However, it becomes clear what the Son meant: the other voice starts to talk. It's the exact same as the conversation that was held earlier. Between Krystal… and Panther!

'What is it that makes you so happy then?'

'Hearing you for one.'

'Haha. No seriously Panther.'

'Okay then. It's actually a weird story. The guy you are giving chase, the one running rampant across Papetoon, might have visited us.'

'Really?'

'Hmhm. He left Leon in a state of shock.'

'So... that makes you happy?'

'Nono. Wolf and I had a quarrel. I was the aggressor. But he forgave me... not even that. It's the way in how he forgave me.'

'So you wanted to share that with me?'

'Not just by giving you the reason, but also a little extra.'

'What are you planning then?'

'Heh heh. You'll feel what I mean soon enough my pretty. Panther will make you feel alright...'

What follows is a disturbing sex session between Krystal and Panther. Her pleasure full moans and her reactions to Panther dirty talk are the worst.

'Aaaaah! You-you feel g-good Panther.'

'You want me to go in a little further?'

'Oh YES!'

'How does that feel?'

'Uhnn.. I'm so wet right now...'

The disgusting image of Krystal, pleasing herself under Panther's talking supervision, without any sign of forcing, spooks through his head. Normally, Fox wouldn't mind such an image; Krystal either half or completely naked on the bed in front of him, fingering herself and groping her breasts. Fox would eventually join in, putting an extra addition to the play. He would grope her breasts and finger her. Until he would finally penetrate her.
That is, if he was on the other side of the horn or really in that room with her.

'Who do you love?'

'Aah! You... only you Panther.'

'Say it louder! And maybe I'll go even further. Perhaps... even thicker.'

Also known as: put another finger in there.

'I love you Panther... Egh... Oh... I LOVE YOU!'

Shaken and stirred, Fox lowers the recorder as he presses the red button. The tape ceases, erasing itself of its filthy content. Fox's body ceases for a moment as well.

It is the moment of transition, the realization that all those calling out at him that Krystal was a treacherous, quote on quote, cunt... were telling the truth.

'Why... w-why me?' he whimpers as he drops the recorder on the ground. It thuds onto the floor, that suddenly looks tempting to face-plant into. He feels sick, nauseous and betrayed. Back-stabbed, crushed and heartbroken, he wants nothing anymore. Just someone to talk to. Someone who understands him, but all those have died before his very eyes. He bows his head.

'She... how could she? She just broke me again. Just like on Titania.' *Only the pain is much more severe. My soul is bleeding and so is my heart. She turned me into a black hole.* 'I need someone... Someone!' he cries out in desperation as he throws his head back, facing the black ceiling above him. All that he has left, he releases it. What point does it have to hold it in when you're already sinking beyond the point of saving.

'Please help me! Don't leave me here to perish! Don't let me turn into a slave of my own demise! R-r... Release me from this pain, these god-for-sa-ken chains...' He falls back into his chair, leaving his heavy yet empty feeling head dangling. 'I'd rather take my place in the scorching fires of Hell now then to be left here like this. I'm not asking for a miracle! Not for a God or an angel, but for a...'

Unknown to Fox, completely shielding himself from the world, a faint red colored light appears some distance away from him. A familiar wooden chair places itself on the floor without a sound as an anthropomorphic being starts to materialize on that chair. Claws unfold, the fire is lit and the red dot with the magma-colored outlining of the pentagram form on his eyeballs. They roll into position as the ever naked Délarbé forms, seating himself into the chair.

'...for a friend...' ends Fox as his mouth shuts down. Only his thoughts continue. *Pulverized and wrecked, once more.* say the ongoing thoughts repeatedly. His heart and mind, the core and the head in conflict. The core wants emotional support while the head wants to withdraw in a deep shell and never come out again.

*Pulverized and ruined, once more.*

'And never again.' he hears before him. Excitement comes back as he lifts his head from his forming shell. Before him, he sees Délarbé slowly coming to life again. Nothing can describe his happiness. Even if it's a demon hybrid, it's like looking at an older brother.

'Dé?' hopes Fox in great disbelief. It couldn't be possible. He died! Or he wasn't joking himself.

He smiles at Fox when he's fully formed. 'Thanks for accepting me as a part of you Fox. I guess that is what brought me back…'

He stops mid-sentence as he takes a good look at his host. Fox is looking like he did a few hours ago, but he's not vanishing into nothingness. He listened to the tape and the content have left an everlasting scar. One that Délarbé never imagined could be this huge.

'Jesus fucking Christ!' exclaims Délarbé as he jumps out of the chair at the sight of Fox. He runs towards Fox who is on the verge of collapsing. His eyes roll up into his head, indicating that he's losing consciousness. Before he can fall off headfirst, he's caught by Délarbé in a nick of time.

'Fox? You okay?' asks Délarbé caring. A slight nod from Fox is enough reason for Délarbé to kick the chair away and to lay Fox on his side so he can come to rest. Fox coughs up a lot of slime and saliva he otherwise would have choked in if Délarbé left his in the position he was in. Fox begins to return to normal step by step, as if the fluids were the poison that got him to this. He can see a little blurry but at least sees that Délarbé, just like he did before in the past, is caring for him.

'Uuurgh… I-I'm alive? S-still here?' raves Fox like a drunken fool. Drunken, but not ignorant comes to Délarbé's mind. He cleans Fox's face from all the smuts and helps him sit upright. At the same height, they look at each other. Like the equals they are. It doesn't matter if Fox is a host; a mindless slave is out of the question.

Without any warning or sign, Fox flies out at Délarbé and hugs him tight. Délarbé, overwhelmed at first, composes and returns the favor.

'What do I do Délarbé? She built me up, just to break me down. And she would have never told me unless…'

He lets go of Délarbé as he dries more tears. With the finger-snap creation, Délarbé hands him handkerchief to help a little.

'Unless what?' suggest Délarbé, motivating Fox to continue.

'Y-you know… Unless you showed me of course. I mean… she would just keep it a secret. Why Dé?'

Délarbé reinacts the same thing he made Henry do years ago. He places his paws on Fox's shoulders and lifts Fox's lowered chin up.

'First of all: don't call me Délarbé.' he says while calmly starting to dust Fox's shoulders off. 'You don't to remind me of what the both of us are.'

He grabs Fox's middle and lifts him up, with the included groaning and complaining at Fox's unexpected weight, into the chair where he plunges into like a ragdoll.

'What should I call you then?' he says with mocking intent. A small smile comes on his face.

'Heh heh.' sniggers Délarbé sneaky. 'Call me... like you call an old friend. Call me... Bill.' he says in way that the "ll" glide in between his split tongue. That reminds him; he has to go to a D.I.Y. shop to get something to hold those two parts in the harness.

Fox, obviously unaware about Dé's thoughts drifting off, snaps his fingers with comical intention in prospect. A small, hand-held mirror appears and falls into Fox's right paw.

'Bill?' he asks as if it's the most unoriginal name he'd ever heard. With that, he draws Délarbé's attention. Fox holds the mirror in front of his face; mirror side towards Délarbé.

'I think you mean Bill Grey.' jokes Fox with his trademark smug smile.

Probably the worst pun Fox ever made, it turns out far more hilarious than expected. It was the most unexpected, unfunny comparison with a yet humorous tone setting the both of them ever heard. But Fox and Délarbé can't seem to help themselves. Fox manages to hold his mouth closed while Délarbé does the exact opposite, turning into full-blown roaring.

'Huhuhu... ache. Ow... haha... s-stomach ache... Whahahahahaaa!' He nearly drops towards the floor it's such torture. 'Fucking Grey... Ghahahaa! Ingenious!'

The real humor has degraded at this point. Now it's just the leftovers as Délarbé starts to walk around, catching his breath.

'Oh have mercy! Heh heh... Sweet holy mother of FUCK! That one... Tsk... just sucked! You know?'

Fox knows; he is still giggling in himself, sounding like a horse on LSD.

'What's so funny!?' tries Délarbé to say threatening as Fox's laughter is pretty contagious. 'Quit laughing you stupid chimphahahaaa... erhm...'

He slipped there for a second before he grabs the edges of the top of the back leaning of Fox's chair. Pretending to be overwhelming as his shadow completely hauls over Fox, he just can't hold it.

'Th-this... is far worse than... a blooper reel.' states Fox almost choking on his saliva.

'Damn right you are...' admits Délarbé holding his paws behind his head for optimal oxygen take-in. 'Woo! That was the worst laugh I've ever had.'

'Once and never again?' asks Fox.

'I didn't say that. On the contrary.'

'Geh heh. I have no idea how I came to that pun. Your fur color and the last name... it-it just fitted! You know? It's... brilliant in its own right.'

'And yet it's as bad as it can get?' suggest Délarbé flourishing. He creates another chair. This time next to Fox. He drops into it fulfilled by uttering a long withheld exhale.

'Exactly. The formula for an insanely low joke. It's so perfect and yet... whatever you said.' explains Fox simple, not in the mood to recycle what Dé already said. Both utter another sigh as time passes by. Another thing Fox feels kicking in: the sense of time.

His body tells him that he hasn't slept in three whole days. Ever since the bloodbath in the Great Fox II, he hasn't slept.

The two stare at nothing. They have nothing more to say to each other. It goes on for a couple of minutes. Where their minds and reasoning are, knows no one other than themselves. This is being relaxed. That is until Délarbé wants to explain his reasons for laughing.

'Hey Fox? You awake?'

Fox, a little drowsy from entering a state of slumber opens one eye to look what Délarbé wants. 'Sup?'

'When I laughed... a little more than I normally should...'

'You mean not at all?'

'Uuh... probably yes. But that's not the point. When I looked in that mirror... within a split-second, I realized something.'

'You did huh? Good for you.' says Fox relaxed, acting a little like Falco.

'Two things actually. One being the fact, that you trust me.'

Fox looks up at that statement with both eyes open. He looks at Délarbé who seems to be talking to the air, just saying what's on his heart. As if he's telling a story.

'I mean... with a snap of your fingers you could have swissed me with a Gatling. Pinned me to a wall with 1001 needles. Squashed me with a sledge or set me on fire for all you care! But... you didn't.' He turns his head at Fox, looking him directly in the eye. 'My point being: after all I've dragged you through, you just pop up a mirror to make yourself feel better. But more importantly: to make me feel better.' concludes Délarbé extremely grateful in a humble way.

'Oh... really?' speaks Fox acting ignorant and genuinely a little astonished. He had no idea it had such impact on him. Let alone that a being like he was able to say this out of himself.

'Hmhm. It also... gave me a reason to continue. An identity. I really feel like your inner evil and you've confirmed that you accept me as yours by listening the tape.'

'But you... were... dead?' says Fox puzzled as he focuses his attention on Délarbé. He starts to get speechless. Délarbé has never been emotional. Maybe complaining about the rain or having not enough pain to endure but never like this.

'True. With that, your inner evil returned to you.' answers Délarbé shoving the subject back to Fox.

'The memory... it wasn't you?'

Délarbé shakes his head. 'No. And about what memory are you talking about?' he asks curious with a raised eyebrow.

'Eh... I guess it's... it's nothing really. Only that you were there when I needed you most. Even when you weren't directly a part of me.'

Old gears start to work again; 'Ah yes. Taking control of Henry Grey. Well... I choose my hosts carefully. Mostly leading them into shit when their lives are at their peaks. But... with you... it was different.'

'Different how?' wonders Fox interested.

'Just... different.' ends Délarbé vague and symbolic. He stretches out his left arm and wipes across the sky, like clearing up a damp or slightly frozen window to look outside. A vision of that day appears, for only Délarbé's eyes to see.

It's that same day as Peppy's transport arrives at the McCloud household. As an invisible spirit, he can't be seen or felt. Not even footprints in the snow-cloaked sidewalk. He follows Peppy with his eyes as he and his entourage enter the house. Instead of following them in there, he floats over to the window. It's covered in snow and ice. He clears it up and looks through. There sits Fox, who just received the news. The disbelief in his eyes... as if it all happened the night before. A young Loic, watching and unable to do anything as The Gatekeeper takes his parents. All because of the crazy idea that he thought he could possibly be more powerful than the devil himself. Middle Aged Corneria, France, some 700 to 800 years ago and still so fresh in his memory. He can't stand to see him like this.

'What happened to me... should not happen to you. You must not become a victim like became.' states Loic.

He enters the home as a ghost and takes his seat on the chair. With a simple point of the finger, he takes control of Henry and guides him towards Fox. Where he'd hoped this wouldn't have to come this far. The opposite was true.

Of course, Délarbé has no intention to share that with Fox. He has enough on his mind already without another emotional story to swallow. The flashback only takes a couple of seconds. Just short enough to keep Délarbé's clearing the sky symbolic and mysterious looking instead of strange and creepy.

'You mean like a hero in the making?' brings Fox up. It snaps Délarbé, fairly unseen, out if his daydream.

'Yeah. Something like that.' replies Délarbé cool.

'Whatever the reasoning is...' He hangs back with his paws behind his head.

'I appreciate what you did for me. Thanks Dé... I mean Bill.' he corrects himself in record time.

'Nah man. F- that name.' waves Délarbé away. 'It's okay. Bill was starting to wear already so Dé is good.'

Fox fusses jokingly. 'Tsk tsk. You hypocritical idiot.'

'I've inherited that from someone...' suggests Délarbé strongly as he turns his head away, awaiting Fox's reaction. *See if he bites...*

'You got something to say demonic misfit?'

*Bingo! Now to haul him in...* 'Is that a proposal to a challenge?'

'Exactly' reads from Fox's smug expression. 'I think you're aware of how Krystal and I sometimes used to settle our differences.'

He snaps his fingers and the legendary Wallace Sword from a medieval English King falls into his hands. Fitting gauntlets and a royal cape included. He holds the sword with two paws before his face ready to strike at any time. If one would look Fox right in the eye, the blade would be right in between both eyes.

'Huhuhuhu...' sniggers Délarbé diminishing, very unimpressed. 'A sword that ancient?' he continues taunting. 'I was thinking about using my newly acquired double-bladed axe...'

A snap of the fingers transforms the room into a flat grass field in the middle of the night. Some memory to his home. The cabin where he was free of his uncle's grasp. The moon is gigantic tonight as it graces the backdrop along with millions of stars. Moist on the grass reflects it. A slight gust flows through the two vulpines' fur. Tension is building between the two.

'But I respect rituals. Swords? Fine with me. Because for this, prefer something that isn't so much show and more straightforward to the kill.'

He stretches his right arm out and opens his paw. Cloaked in flames, a rapier emerges whom he holds with just one paw. With a silver, serpentine pattern-welded rapier guard and ferocious looking two-edged blade with plentiful miniscule barbs, it's a terrific melee weapon. Therefore named "Reaper" for a reason.

'En Garde?' provokes Délarbé pointing the tip of the Reaper right at Fox's heart. That's his target while Fox's is more focused on chopping off the head. It's only a playful match, both know that. But what's a fight without some taunting, provoking and having a reason to strike your opponent?

'Bring it on!' replies Fox in Saurian as he charges at Délarbé with full force. The blades clash for the first time as the rapier is pushed back by Fox's force. The blunt side of the rapier almost touches Délarbé's nose.

'How deep would like your next scar?' torments Fox brutal, thinking he has the upper hand.

'I have enough of them...'

With a powerful swing, he throws Fox off of him. Unable to react in time, Fox cannot prevent the tip of Délarbé's rapier leaving a cut going from his right cheek up to his left eyebrow.

'Ssshhiii...' moans Fox. The slash feels as vile as a paper cut. It's not bleeding luckily. As he feels his war scar, Délarbé licks the tip clean off. Not very hard with a thin blade and a split-up tongue. The barbs aren't in the way, as they curve upwards instead of downwards.

'You okay Foxy?' he says on a very egocentrically set tone. 'It's horrible to see such good potential go to waste.'

Fox shakes it off and his weapon and mind-set on defeating Délarbé. 'Let me show you potential.'

With a provocation of the paw by Délarbé, Fox charges again only meet Délarbé in the middle. Sparks of the blades grating against one another spatter on the ground. No matter what either of them try, one knows what the other will do. The two are matched. Once at an impasse, the blades against each other, a talk between the two shows that it's still a friendly where it looks like a battle to the death.

'And? Have you given Krystal a thought?' asks Délarbé with some difficulty stopping Fox's blade.

'Not yet. I don't think I'm ready to give that plan of yours a go Dé.' admits Fox with the same difficulty.

'No matter.' shrugs Délarbé as the blades go down simultaneously. 'I don't wanna force you anymore.'

He starts circling around Fox, who doesn't lose him out of sight. 'It's your choice when.'

'Oh cut the shit man!' snarls Fox playful as he holds his blade in a manner to counteract any attack. 'You haven't shown anything but boasting up your ego by fending off. I figured a demon knows how to play?' he continues stirring.

'Incitation accepted.' He readies his rapier as the serpentine pattern-welded hand guard starts to merge with Délarbé's arm. 'Don't tell how to play the game, old friend.'

Once more, the blades clash in front of the shining moonlight. This time, Délarbé seems to have the upper hand. As if the blades were arm-wrestling, Fox is going down as Délarbé's grin couldn't get any bigger. The fires of victory burn inside his eyes and seem to scorch the cornea, only emphasizing the magma-colored pentagram iris.

'Sorry Foxy. I'm back again!' speaks Délarbé as his voice starts to change to that of a black metal vocalist.

'That… is… because… of… ME!' replies Fox powerful as he find the strength to overturn the odds. He swirls his blade around Délarbé's and flings it straight up in the air. Within a matter of seconds, Délarbé is at Fox's mercy as the blade is pointed at his throat.

'Okay. Okay.' admits Délarbé suspiciously quick as he's forced onto his knees. 'You've shown you're superior. Clearly…'

He knows very well that his blade is gonna come back so he fakes the whole thing. Because what goes up, always comes down. '…I need to dust up my skills a little more.'

Without any reason, looks or movement whatsoever, Délarbé ducks and kicks Fox's sword out of his paws with something looking like a break-dance move. He snatches his falling blade out of the sky as he points it at Fox's throat, the same way Fox did that to him.

'Hmmm…' hums Délarbé laughing, observing the situation. 'No matter where I cut; either by going up, down, left, or right… you will always bleed.' he says psychotically calm and calculated as he tends to move the blade.

Fox isn't impressed anymore as he has a hidden trump card: 'I could say the same thing about your kidneys Dé.'

'Wut?'

'Take a look?'

With a half glance at his left kidney, he sees that Fox's blade is dangerously close to puncturing his skin, thereby damaging the kidney. Nothing more than the same strength he needs to puncture his Reaper through Fox's throat, Fox could also use to cut his right kidney in half.

'I did not expect that at all Fox. Here's dumb me thinking I could win against myself…' confesses Délarbé with a proud edge.

'How about a draw?' proposes Fox.

A short nod is enough for Fox to see that he accepts.

'Touché.' calls Délarbé as he lowers his rapier, grating his blade alongside on purpose against Fox's. The Reaper goes up in flames and the Wallace sword turns to dust. Under the moonlight, the two reconcile and shake hands. They sit down in the grass field. While Fox recovers from the friendly match, Délarbé feels that little Loic coming to say "hai". Sitting in the grass makes him feel like dancing! But not with Fox nearby of course.

'Could this day be any better?' wonders Fox after several minutes of them staring at the moon.

'I might have an idea…' suggest Délarbé as he snaps his fingers. Two beach chairs with view on the moon and a cool box in between materialize. A campfire is awakened in front of it. 'How about this?' he shows to Fox.

'That box better have something good in there. I'm dried up!'

Délarbé opens the lock of the box and opens the lid. Cold air looking like thick clouds flow over the edge as bottles of Fox's favorite beer are shown plentiful.

'Now this! This I like!' states Fox cheerful. 'Finally things are getting better.'

Délarbé swings his arm around Fox as he acknowledges that while toasting to the sight of the moon. 'From now on Fox… From now on and never again will it get as bad as it was. That's a promise. You have triumphed… and no can say otherwise.' states Délarbé as he pads Fox on his chest.

From a broken man, losing his life to a blood-sucking leech that was Krystal's hidden betrayal to a good friend of his own representation of his inner devil, the night ends by Fox and Délarbé sitting in those chairs, toasting their bottles in front of the moon, acting as the witness of it all.