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Mission No. 35

Cerinia
Hidden Valley

"In the House of the Matron"

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Lavender light played on Krystal's eyes as the blurry world came into focus. She reached up and rubbed her heavy lids, wiping them dry. The smudged shapes took proper form, becoming a room built from dark, mahogany wood. She lay on a soft mat atop the floor—a rather flat bed unlike the recent ones she slept in. Through the window in the adjacent wall, she could see twinkling purple gems swaying in the breeze; ones that reminded her of the clouds in Sector V—or were those tree branches covered in blossoms?

Groaning, she struggled to sit up; her spine and joints felt sore from resting in the same position for so long. She let out a magnificent yawn, stretching her arms till she felt a tingling warmth release from her muscles. I feel like I've been asleep for days again…

Her eyes widened, and a flood of memories struck like a lightning bolt: the ruined city, the strange desert, the apparition over the water, the cloaked figures seizing her and…

She gasped. Fox!

Her eyes darted over the strange room, looking for him—or anyone, for that matter. Besides her flat bed, the rest of the room appeared barren, with little to no furniture—a stark contrast to the luxuriant hotel she visited. Cobwebs hid in the corners, dust settled on the meager desk, and only broken shards remained in the window frame. It looked like no one had lived here in years…

Where am I? How long did they put me to sleep this time? A month—a year?! Is Fox alright? Is he long gone? Am I all by myself again?!

She flung the covers off, realizing whoever had placed her here had also taken her clothes; but that was the least of her concerns. Clutching the blanket to her front, the vixen stood up. The room's interior was dark and mysterious, yet not at all like the cold labs, or even Fox's ship. The flowing air refreshed her, and the quiet silence had a calming effect as opposed to unease… but she suspected it was a false sense of security.

Reaching out with her mind, Krystal sensed for anyone's thoughts in the dwelling, but her search turned up empty. As far as she knew, she was alone—but the figures who captured her on the shore had managed to evade her probing there, too. She couldn't be too careful.

Heart pounding in her chest, the vixen crept to the door and poked her head out of the open frame, glancing left and right. The room opened into a narrow, musty hall which she carefully tiptoed down, her paws padding over the hard wood floor. Sometimes the boards would creek underfoot, causing her to flinch and freeze in place, but if there was anyone present, they didn't seem to hear.

She emerged into a wider area that reminded her of a kitchen, only with more rudimentary appliances. Nothing looked recently used, either—but when she turned, she saw a large hole had been torn through the back wall, revealing a beautiful forest vista. Unlike the green palms and bushes she faintly remembered seeing, the leaves and flowers on all these trees were bright purples and pinks.

What concerned her most was the sorry state of that wall. Chunks and splinters of wood lay strewn about the floor and the grass outside, while the edges were bent outwards by some immense force. Whatever created the hole sure was powerful. Almost like…

Gulping, Krystal gingerly climbed over the remaining baseboards and dropped to the grass below, careful not to step on any of the sharp debris. The blades were soft underfoot and tickled her feet; she'd only seen a carpet of plants like this in one of Andross's exhibits some time ago.

Krystal shivered in the cool air, feeling vulnerable with only the blanket in her possession. She needed protection. She glanced around till her eyes landed on a knifelike shard of wood at her feet. She stooped and picked it up, careful not to prick herself on the sharpened tip. Holding it at the bottom, she tried wielding it like a knife—unsure if she could use it if the time came, but knowing she might have to.

Krystal set off around the wood cabin, keeping deathly silent. Her effort paid off when her ear picked up a strange sloshing noise coming from the other side. Now she could sense the thoughts of another.

Breathing erratically, she pressed herself against the wall and carefully slid along it, worried about what she might find on the opposite side of the cabin. When she worked up the courage, she dashed out from behind the corner, fingers gripping the base of the wooden shard in readiness—but her fears proved unfounded.

To her surprise, she found someone there; not a strange alien or monster, but another vixen like herself. She knelt over a wash bucket with her back to Krystal, her sleeves rolled up as she scrubbed her missing clothes. The girl's pelt was a vivid turquoise, and she wore a set of white robes with black trim. She couldn't have been much older than Krystal.

A Cerinian!

The wooden shard fell from her hand, startling the other girl when it audibly hit the grass.

"Oh!"

She dropped the clothes into the soapy water, sending up a splash of bubbles and suds. The vixen shot to her feet and spun around, eyes widening when she noticed her standing there.

"Um, hakon?" Krystal greeted in Venomian.

"K-koe ko maranga!" she chirped back in a pleasant but fearful voice.

"Nas?" Krystal asked, unable to understand. But when the other vixen blinked her head in confusion, she realized the problem was mutual. Trying to recall the little Cornerian she'd picked up, she awkwardly translated, "What did you say?"

Still, the other vixen showed no sign of understanding—neither Venomian, nor Cornerian.

Krystal sighed in exasperation. How many "languages" do I have to learn before everyone understands me?! she despaired. They all mean the same thing anyway. Why can't everyone just communicate with their thoughts? It would be so less complicated and troublesome, and we'd all understand each other. I guess I'll have to try another way…

Sensing the other vixen wasn't a threat, Krystal marched right across the lawn to her. The girl shrank back at first, tripping over the bucket, but eventually Krystal had her trapped against the cabin's brick chimney. Once she saw Krystal bringing her face towards her, she gasped and clenched her eyes shut… only to be surprised when she felt her forehead gently press against hers.

Krystal brushed herself against the other girl's consciousness, but the vixen's eyes widened and she drew back slightly. Stubbornly, Krystal pressed on till she gave in, opening up to her prodding. She tried to be polite about it, only peeking into the portions of her mind that controlled speech. Oh, so many new words to learn…

Using the girl's own vocabulary, Krystal thought, 'Hello?'

The other vixen finally nodded in recognition of the word. "H-hello!" she returned in her native tongue, which Krystal was able to interpret through their connection.

Sighing at their breakthrough, she backed away from the girl, giving her space. Once she no longer felt threatened by Krystal, the girl closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, regaining her composure—though she kept glancing down at her uncovered pelt, her cheeks flushing.

"Forgive me, but I wasn't expecting you to commune thoughts with me so soon."

Krystal had a slower time putting her sentences together. 'I understand. It does tend to startle people when I do this, but it's the only way I can talk with you.'

The girl smiled when she realized Krystal meant no harm, though her mind's aura still bled unease. "That's alright—but try not to enter anyone else's mind without their permission. It's impolite, you know!" The vixen bowed slightly, laying a hand on her chest. "I'm Māra, by the way. I will be your attendant while you grow accustomed to our village. If there is anything you need, please ask."

'Thank you, Māra. I'm—' But she caught herself before she instinctively answered 28. 'I'm… I'm Krystal,' she finally remembered. The name brought a rush of memories back—mostly of the times Fox had uttered it on his lips, though more disconcerting were the events leading up to their capture.

She sprang at Māra, frightening the girl as she latched onto her arms. 'Where am I?!' she demanded. 'I-I don't recognize this place! How long did they put me to sleep for?! Why wasn't Fox with me when I woke?!'

Māra flinched at her barrage of questions, and Krystal could feel her increased heartbeat pounding against her chest; she was too scared to push her off. "P-Please Krystal, relax! You are safe in this valley."

'This… valley?'

"Yes, Altaira Valley; that's where our village is. The mountains and mists keep us protected from outsiders. Well, most of the time…" Māra laughed awkwardly. "After all, you did manage to find us…"

'But there were evil people with masks; they captured us!'

"No, those were just the Kaitaki: the warriors of our village. I assure you, they meant no harm. They thought you might be a threat when you attacked them, so they put you to sleep."

"Our village…" Krystal repeated out loud, eyes slowly widening. 'You mean, there are more people like us here?'

Māra dipped her head. "Mhm! There's more than a thousand! I can show you around if you'd like me to…"

The vixen's face brightened, overwhelmed by the revelation. She had trouble imagining so many people in one place—let alone, Cerinians like her!

'I… I'd like to meet them, but please…' She squeezed Māra's arm. 'Please, you must tell me where Fox is first!'

"'Fox'?" Māra repeated back to her.

'Yes, that man I was with. He's here too… isn't he?' She summoned several images of Fox and showed them to the other girl.

Māra's face blanched. "Oh, yes, I know who you mean…"

Krystal stepped back again, wringing her hands. 'I'm worried about him; we've been separated too long. I remember seeing the warriors you mentioned surround him, but they put me to sleep before I saw what happened next. I don't know what they did to him…'

Sensing her concern, Māra softened her tone. "Please, fear not. The outsider is… somewhere else, but not far from here. I'm sure your… friend is just as safe as you are now."

Krystal looked up at her with hope in her eyes, tugging at Māra's sleeve. 'Then, can you take me to him?'

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to speak to Mother Namah, the matron of the village, first."

'Then where can I find her?'

"In the Hall of the Matrons, at the top of the hill to the north of the vill—hey!"

Krystal took off running, but Māra chased after her and managed to grab her wrist. "Where are you going?!"

Krystal tried to wrench free. 'Please, I must protect Fox! I have to make sure he's okay. He's prone to dying you see, and only I can save him when he does that!'

But Māra refused to let go, ignoring the strange things she said. "We'll leave right away—but you can't go walking about the village in nothing but your fur!"

Krystal looked down, blushing slightly when she grasped the disparity in attire between them. 'Oh! W-Well, I would've worn something if you hadn't taken my clothes…'

"I'm sorry. They were covered in sand from the desert, so I wanted to clean them before you woke. But I brought you a spare robe to wear. That way you'll fit in, and no one will see your strange, well…"

Krystal's ears folded down, and she covered her Venomian tattoos. 'Yes, I think I would like some clothes.'

Māra retreated to a nearby picnic table, where she picked up and unfolded a garment much like her own. The only difference was the one she'd picked out for Krystal was colored a teal green, and the soft fabric shone, reflecting the sunlight.

"Wow…" Krystal gasped when Māra slipped it around her shoulders. It wasn't at all like the restrictive, scratchy clothes Fox made her wear—nor the tight dress that Ms. de Pon gave her. This garment felt loose around her shoulders and arms, feeling like she was wearing a soft blanket of clouds.

'What is this?' she asked, brushing the sleeves. 'It's very nice.'

"Our clothes are woven from the silk of the spiders found in this valley. It's hard to find anything softer!"

Holding Krystal's hand, Māra led her up an overgrown dirt trail. The cabin turned out to be a ways removed from the village, sitting by its lonesome self inside the forest. But once the curtain of trees parted, and the unused path opened out to join a wider thoroughfare, Krystal marveled at the sight before her.

So many larger buildings lined the road; all of them fashioned from the same mahogany wood as the rundown cabin, only much cleaner and more polished. The overhead canopy of blossoms matched what she'd seen at the lakeshore, and were soft violet in hue. As she craned her head to look up at their graceful bows, she noticed the sharp, gray peaks of mountains rising above them in the distance, but the sky obscured the tallest in thick clouds.

'It's all so beautiful here,' she thought to Māra in awe.

"Mhm!" The other vixen smiled up at the purple blossoms. "We are blessed to have found such a lovely, safe haven to live in."

Krystal fell in line behind her attendant as she led her through the village. She cast curious glances at the people they passed; all of them seemed to be women like herself. There were Cerinians her age, some older women, and some girls younger than her. Their coats were all various shades of blues, purples, and greens—ranging from sea-greens like Māra's pelt to Krystal's own shade of blue cobalt, and even lavenders and violets that matched the overhead tree blossoms. Most wore silk robes like her own; some were plain and white, while others were stitched with floral patterns even lovelier than the set Māra had given her. Others she spotted wearing linen skirts and cloth chest wraps for performing more physical tasks.

All-in-all, her fellow Cerinians seemed much kinder and lovelier than the vast array of strange people she and Fox walked past in the Venomian capital. But even with the lack of other species, something seemed off to her.

'Are there any men here?' she asked, continually scanning the features of the women they passed.

"There are a few children, and a few elders," Māra admitted, "But you don't have to worry; they aren't dangerous."

Dangerous? Krystal thought. But Fox isn't dangerous in the slightest…

Krystal studied several of the buildings they passed, taking interest in the activities that went on inside. One wooden structure was full of spinning wheels and rushing webs of string that sparkled in the light. The women inside threaded lines of silk across rectangular frames, weaving the multicolored strands together into unified pieces of clothing.

Krystal narrowed her eyes and looked closely at what was producing the silk. They looked like small bugs; perhaps spiders, even, but none like she'd seen on Venom. These were undeniably adorable; their backs seemed to tower above the rest of their bodies like tall, fluffy hats. Their fur was white with cream-colored rings travelling down their thoraxes like raccoon tails. The caps wiggled and shook as the spiders huddled against one another, staring back at Krystal with curious sets of glassy eyes. Through whatever process, they seemed to be the origin of the silky strands as Māra described.

But as Krystal and her attendee passed, the wheels stopped spinning and the ropes of silk lay still. One-by-one, every Cerinian in the building had turned to look at her.

When Krystal stopped to stare back, they hastily resumed their work and pretended not to notice her. The vixen hurried on ahead to catch up with Māra.

'Those women… why were they staring at me?'

Māra pursed her lips, unable to look Krystal in the eye. 'Oh, you'll have to forgive them. They are just… a little on edge.'

'Why?'

'They haven't exactly learned to trust you yet. As an outsider, they fear what you might do.' She chuckled and smiled at Krystal. 'The Kaitaki told me to be careful around you; they said you might be dangerous, but that's silly! Now that I've gotten to talk with you, I know they must be mistaken. You're very sweet, Krystal.'

For the first time, Krystal noticed a pair of hooded, veiled faces watching her from around a corner. Everywhere she looked, she noticed more cloaked Cerinians looking at her out of the corner of their eyes: from shadowed alleys to doorways and windows, from behind food carts and wooden buildings. All she could see of them were their glowing, mistrustful eyes—and every pair warily watched her.

The vixen's tail drooped; now she understood why she'd woke up in a cabin far removed from the rest of the village, with only Māra brave enough to wait by her side. Now she understood why all the women looked at her fearfully, and the hooded figures darted from building to building, following her just out of sight.

Her own people thought she was a monster, too.

At the far end of the village, the pair came upon a winding path leading up a steep mountainside. Krystal paused to take in the sight of the magnificent structure at the top: a mahogany hall larger than every other building in the village. Unlike most of the structures, its roof was fashioned from curved clay tiles, and the wood trimming curled upwards with a flourish. At both the east and west wings of the building stood frameworks housing stacks of copper disks. From the towers ran a series of wires that branched out and scattered across the village, reminding Krystal of some of the ducts in the Great Fox. Whatever were they for?

"This is the Hall of the Matrons," Māra explained. "It's where Mother Namah and the Kaumatua, the elders, meet. Once in a while, all the people in the village congregate beneath its roof for celebrations and important matters."

Krystal's jaw hung slightly agape as they climbed the winding trail, and she often tripped over the steps while her eyes were focused on the building at the top. She'd seen much larger structures in Ambrosia—some rivaling the mountains around the valley—but none designed as gracefully as this.

After passing under a series of archways, they entered the central hall. It was quite spacious, having enough room to host a good amount of the village's inhabitants at once. Smaller passages branched off to the left and right, covered by woven curtains or strands of glass beads. Intricate tapestries hung from rafters spanning the ceiling, and Krystal craned her neck back to be able to make out each one.

On the far side was a raised stage; a dozen or so figures sat upon flat cushions, their legs crossed or folded beneath them. Each one wore a unique set of robes even prettier than her own.

Māra led her across the floor to the stage of elders, curtsying before the one in the center. "Mother Namah, I bring with me the village's newest member: Krystal." She used Cerinian, but Krystal continued spying on her thoughts to know her meaning.

The elder she addressed wore a purple-patterned kimono, the hem of which obscured the lower half of her body like a cloud. Her fur was a dark azure, and her striking aquamarine eyes were so bright they nearly glowed.

Namah tilted her head to Māra and thanked her in Cerinian, though Krystal dared not listen to her thoughts to find out what she said. Then she gasped when the matron's eyes fixated on her next.

"Welcome, Krystal, to the Valley of Altaira."

The young vixen was surprised when she spoke Cornerian like Fox. After all, Māra hadn't been able to earlier.

"Th-thank you!" she finally returned, joining her in Cornerian.

"I am sorry we had to incapacitate you, but you left us no choice; you did cause Sister Āni to faint." She glanced sideways, and Krystal followed her eyes to another Cerinian seated a few places down—one who wore a stern expression.

Krystal covered her mouth with her paws. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I only did it to protect—"

But Sister Āni nodded, and Krystal flinched when she heard her thoughts. 'It is forgiven, child. You did not really harm me.'

Namah turned to look back at Krystal. "Still, you are young and untrained. You have the Curse, and therefore must learn to restrain your mind. Lashing out with such immense power could one day inadvertently hurt those you love."

Krystal bowed, mimicking Māra. "Again, I'm sorry, but I was only trying to protect Fox. Māra said you would know where he is?"

"Ah, yes. The Lylatian male…" Namah's mouth hung open a bit, and a disappointed look came over her face. "…Er, you must be famished after a full day of sleep. Won't you have something to eat?"

On cue, two sisters emerged from a side passage, one carrying a tray of food, and the other a pillow. They set the pillow and tray before Krystal, and Namah held out her hand. "Please, sit, and eat!"

The abbess was right; she was hungry after such a long rest. Her stomach had felt uncomfortable pangs on her walk over, too. The food's scent beckoned to her, making her mouth water. The Cerinians had prepared a meal of fresh fruits and sautéed vegetables, the centerpiece of which was some sort of tangy, uncooked meat.

Krystal dug in ravenously, tearing into the meat and vegetables and washing them down with the luscious fruit—though none like she'd eaten in Lylat. There were bright yellow grapes that dangled in pyramidal clumps; purple, citrusy fruits that practically burst from their peelings; transparent, sac-like fruits carefully sliced open and held upright to present their nectar—and that was only scratching the surface of the meal.

"These taste good," Krystal said in her limited Cornerian. She would have spoken directly to Namah's mind, but remembered how flustered Māra had been earlier.

"Aren't they delicious? The sister that designed them undoubtedly had a knack for fruit."

Krystal looked up from one of the melons, remembering the Lylatian Geographic holozines Fox showed her. "'Designed'? I heard fruit grew from trees."

"These are far from natural; we put our powers to good use making them. It is a shame that more do not use the Curse to create rather than to destroy… But you can learn of our village in good time. I'm more interested in you, Krystal. I don't mean to disturb your meal, but please, tell me about yourself."

"Myself?" Krystal repeated through a mouthful of juicy food. "But, where do I start?"

"Tell me what you remember of Cerinia, before you were taken away."

Krystal's ears flattened, and her head tilted down somberly. Fox had asked her the same question; she knew her answer would likewise disappoint Namah.

"I-I'm sorry, I have no memory of this place."

A sympathetic expression came over the elder's face. "You poor child. Do you have memories of when you were a young girl? Or did the Lylatians erase them?"

"It's hard for me to see my memories from when I was young. I usually try to forget them… All I remember was being in the lab."

"The… lab?" Namah pressed.

"Yes. They-they did things to me. They wanted me to use my powers, as you called them. I never knew what for…"

Namah bowed her head. "I'm sorry, my daughter, that you had to experience that. But find solace in the fact that your suffering has ended. As long as you stay here with us, you will be safe. Altaira Valley is a haven for Cerinians like ourselves, hidden from the outside world. You'll never have to use your powers again, and no one will harm you here. You are free to stay with us as long as you wish."

Krystal fell silent for a moment, remembering each of the sights she had seen throughout the village. "Then this is my home…"

"You will have duties, of course. We will teach you how to harvest, craft, and cook—but I assure you, the work is manageable."

The vixen thought back to the giant creatures in the desert outside, worried they might find their way to Altaira. "Ms. Namah, is the valley really safe from, from—" She was looking for the word "monster," but hadn't properly learned the word from Fox. Without thinking, she reached into Namah's thoughts, trying to access her language center, but found only silence and an obscuring haze. Her mind was closed off! Was Namah intentionally keeping her out?

Krystal quickly retreated, bowing her head in shame. "I'm sorry, I thought you might know the word. I didn't mean to pry!"

Namah sighed, shaking her head. "It is alright, daughter. I understand that you are young and naïve, but there are manners you must learn. It is impolite to peek into a stranger's head; especially a matron. An Awakened Cerinian mind is a dangerous thing; it is powerful beyond comprehension, and in the hands of a young woman such as yourself, a potentially deadly weapon. If you wish to stay in the village, you must learn to control the Curse. The Kaitaki will help you in your journey to self-restraint… But for now, it is admissible for your mind to speak directly to mine, seeing as you do not know Cerinian, and your Cornerian isn't much better." Namah smiled, and her inner voice spoke to Krystal next. 'Feel free to speak with me in this manner for the present, until you've learned more of your true people's tongue.'

Krystal felt relieved she didn't have to struggle to speak in Cornerian anymore. It also meant she didn't have to talk through her delicious meal, and her mouth could solely focus on savoring the food. 'Thank you, Ms. Namah,' she thought. 'But, about Fox…?'

Once again Namah's expression soured at the mention of his name. 'I was hoping you would forget about him now that you are freed from his control, but it appears his conditioning is strong. You must understand, my child, he is a Lylatian. He was only using you to find the rest of us. That boy is your enemy.'

'But that's not true!' Krystal clenched her fists while trying to raise the volume level of her thoughts. 'He does care for me! He has protected me all the way here, and given up everything he had!'

Namah smiled condescendingly at Krystal, tilting her head and resting it in her hand. 'Did… did you just shout-think at me?'

Krystal ignored her. 'Fox isn't like them! If anything, he's their enemy. They were angry when he left with me, and they tried to stop him! He saved me from drowning and swept me away from the labs in a big metal creature. I trust Fox with my life!'

This time, after her impassioned plea, Namah's expression turned serious. 'Well, perhaps your care for the Lylatian is indeed genuine and no product of his conditioning—however misguided. Your story is from the heart, and it matches his. I see no choice but to concede the argument; Fox isn't with the other Lylatians.'

'Then where is he?!' Krystal pressed, looking around in frustration and wishing she could shout out loud. 'Where are you keeping him? And why won't you let me see him?!'

'Because, regardless of his own intentions, Fox is dangerous. He may very well possess powers of his own, and from past experience, we cannot trust his word that he doesn't. To that end, we have bound him to a stone far outside the village, near where we first found you. He is a safe distance away, so if he breaks out and unleashes his powers upon us, the Kaitaki will have time to stop him."

'But this is ridiculous, Fox has no powers! He's helpless without me!'

'That remains to be seen. If Fox doesn't reveal any powers for two more days, we shall release him.'

Krystal leapt to her feet, spilling a bowl of food. "This is nonsense!" she exclaimed in Venomian. "If you don't release him right now, I'll-I'll… free him myself! And you better not get in my way!"

Several of the warriors stood up as well, staring at her warily; the elders on the stage flinched. The room was filled with palpable tension, as if invisible walls surrounded her, bristling with potential energy. Notably, Namah remained calmly seated. She searched the young vixen's fiery eyes.

'Do you really think you can best all of us and free him?' she asked. 'If you are confident Fox is honest and well-intentioned, why should you worry? He will pass, and you will see him again.'

Krystal glared at Namah for a few more seconds, but eventually accepted there was nothing she could do. Rather ashamed, she sat back down and gathered the food she'd spilled. Reluctantly, she returned to eating. 'Well, alright. Are you at least taking care of him?'

'The Lylatian is no weakling; he will survive the test. But we must deprive him of food and water for three days.'

No food or water?

Krystal stared down at her own meal, a veritable feast before her feet. The bite in her mouth turned bitter on her tongue. Her stomach churned thinking about how hungry and thirsty Fox must feel at this very moment, somewhere off by himself, alone—while she was free to stuff herself. She remembered the red numbers on the scale falling when she wouldn't eat, worrying Fox could end up much like her…

Guilt washed over the vixen, and she placed the slice of fruit back on its plate. No matter how ripe it tasted, it was spoiled to her; she had lost her appetite.

Mother Namah turned to converse with another matron at her side for a moment. But while she wasn't looking, Krystal stowed some of the food within the folds of her robe.

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Falco awoke the next morning and yawned, stretching his beak as wide as a bear trap. After smacking a bit, he winced at the bright gray light raining in through the skylight above him. Sitting upright, he pushed the blankets off and scooted to the edge of his makeshift bed. Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he felt around for the floor with his talons, but found nothing. Strange: he didn't remember his bed being this high off the ground…

Deciding to go for it, he yawned one last time before slipping off.

Immediately his yawn turned into an unseemly squawk when his feet met open air. At the last second, he grabbed onto the inside of the door frame, barely keeping himself from falling the rest of the way to the concrete floor below. He'd completely forgotten! He still bunked in one of the broken cars in Katt's repair shop; one which hung suspended over a dozen feet in the air. His bleary eyes finally cleared, and he saw the messy garage floor staring back up at him from below.

Ugh. Guess I'm gonna have to get used to para-jumping every morning…

With some difficulty, he managed to clamber onto the roof of the car below his, then hop to the ground. He looked around the garage; there was no sign of Katt's pink tail—but a delicious smell was coming from the backroom.

Feeling hungry, Falco walked to the back of the garage where a door led into the rest of Katt's personal quarters. He found it unlocked and showed himself right in. On the other side was the feline's kitchen; just as disorderly and stained as the garage. Her adopted brother stood before the stove, cooking a can of instant eggs in a humble skillet.

"Mornin'!" Kitt chirped, brushing the sizzling eggs around. "Thought you might be hungry."

"Gee, thanks." Falco plopped down at the table, stretching out like he owned the place. The smaller feline scooped the eggs into a plate and brought them over with a cup of orange juice, setting them before his former leader. He sat down, watching intently as Falco ate—and making him feel rather uncomfortable.

"So… you plan on seeing Pukes today?"

Falco wolfed down the eggs, satisfying his growling stomach. "Mmm… yeah. Gonna have her take a look at the product I came across."

"Then you'll need this:" Kitt presented him with an alternate set of clothes he'd scrounged up, as well as a disposable filter mask specifically designed for a bird's beak. "This'll help you breathe out there, and the hoodie will keep anyone from recognizing your Star Fox uniform."

"Thanks, kid… But uh, have you seen Katt this morning? I kinda wanted to say hi before we left."

Kitt nodded. "Yeah, Sis got up a little earlier and headed out. She might be gone the whole day, actually. Don't know where she goes, but she always comes back with boxes of spare parts, or somethin'."

"Huh… Maybe the black market?"

The feline shrugged. "Nah. She smells too good to be ducking through the sewers."

"Hmm…" Falco ground his beak thoughtfully, then continued to finish his breakfast. He knew he'd promised to stay out of Katt's business, but he couldn't help but dwell on it.

After suiting up in his new clothes and mask, Falco headed out with Kitt. They traversed the grime-covered streets and alleys towards the east side of the North End, where Pukes' residence and place of business was. All the while, Falco couldn't help but feel a little paranoid; there was less smog today, and less cloud cover, meaning it was a lot easier for his blue feathers and yellow beak to stick out among the drab concrete walls. For once, he hated having an easily-recognizable face—and it wasn't because the people here revered him as a heroic mercenary.

Pukes lived in a boarded-up townhouse conspicuously located between a chemical plant, a grocery store, and a sewer estuary that fed into the nearby ocean. When they reached her door, Kitt rapped three short bursts of calculated, intentional knocks, then stood on tiptoes in front of the eyehole.

A few moments later, there was a scraping sound as the latch behind the peephole slid open. It revealed a single eye with a half a pair of glasses covering it. The eye completely unnerved Falco, as red veins surrounded the iris, and shadowy bags hung beneath it. "What's the password?" a muffled but distinctly feminine voice crept from behind the door.

"Uh… purus lectus?"

The eye scrutinized him. "That was last week's password."

"Aw geez Pukes, I don't know what phrase comes next!" He took his filtration mask off and shoved his face next to the eyehole. "Can't you see, it's me, Kitt!"

"No password, no entrance."

Falco rolled his eyes. "Nice to hear your voice again, Pukes."

"Who?!" The eye swiveled to peer behind Kitt, then widened. "Oh! You brought him. I don't remember what password I was using today anyway, so I'll give you a mulligan this time."

The peephole screeched shut, and a series of locks clinked free, followed by the door opening. Falco tailed Kitt inside to find Pukes, a vixen with lime-green dyed fur. She wore an over-sized lab coat with a rainbow patchwork of stains and holes that just begged to be condemned by the Bureau of Hazardous Waste. Her wireframe glasses were taped over the bridge of her nose, and her dark hair fell in a disheveled tangle around her shoulders. There were bags under her sagging eyelids; it looked like she hadn't slept a wink in days. "Pukes" wasn't her real name, of course; the Free Birds just started calling her that given her fur color—and several unfortunate accidents she'd had in the lab.

The cook poked her head out for a second to peer up-and-down the street, then closed the door behind them. "Falco, you've come back." She spoke in a monotone voice that revealed she was barely holding on to wakefulness. "I've dearly missed my number one distributor."

"And I've missed my number one cook," he returned.

Pukes saw them into the reception area, though along the way she tripped on the hem of her overly-long lab coat. That seemed to wake her up a bit. The room was populated by a dusty, mismatched set of sofas and armchairs that Falco knew for sure came from the dump. After all, he helped carry them in years ago.

Pukes sat in an armchair while Falco and Kitt sat on the couch across from her, taking care to avoid the spring that poked through one of the cushions. The green-furred vixen adjusted her glasses and studied Falco. Her eyelids drooped nearly closed, and as time dragged on, Falco worried more and more that she'd fallen asleep sitting up. He jumped a little when she finally spoke.

"My, you've changed. You look different than you did when I last saw you. But then again, everything and everyone's changed, hasn't it?"

Falco shrugged. "Not the important stuff. Seems like everything's gone back to normal here, even though I've been gone a few years and a war took place. Katt's still working at the shop, Bureau still hasn't filled the potholes, Grimmer's still terrorizing street bums—"

"And I'm still cooking," Pukes finished for him. She leaned forward and clasped her hands, yawning tiredly—though not due to boredom. "So, what brought the great Falco Lombardi back? I heard you're a war hero now. No one in their right mind would return to a cesspool like 13 if they ever got out. Did Star Fox disband?"

"Eh, there's been rumors like that since the war ended."

"But are they true now?"

"Well… Yeah. I guess they finally are."

"And that McCloud kid; is it true what they say about him? That he ran off somewhere?"

Falco shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to mention Krystal and the Cerinians—nor the little fiasco at the gate. "Uh, yeah, really funny what happened to him. He just sorta disappeared—"

"But I bet you know where he's gone to, hmm?"

"W-what? No!"

"Bullshit, you're hiding something." Pukes climbed over the small coffee table between them and scrutinized Falco with her glasses-magnified eyes. "Why. Are. You. Here?"

Falco retreated slightly into the couch. "Alright Pukes, I'll level with you. Something awful screwy is going on, and it involves Venom, Corneria, and Fox. The more I tell you though, the more I put you in danger, so I have to be careful what I say. I came here because I got a favor to ask—a favor for Fox and Peppy."

He reached into his jacket and removed the vial he'd taken from the Venomian stash. He passed it off to Pukes, who greedily snatched it from his hands. She held it up to the light, turning it left and right as she studied the milky, iridescent substance within. "Seems some is missing."

"Er, probably just evaporated on the way over…"

Pukes narrowed her eyes at him, then backed off the table. "Can I ask where you got it?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Now, you know I never reveal my sources when I get you the materials."

"This is a finished product. I'm a little jealous you didn't come to me to cook it up, but I'm willing to overlook it because you've always been a faithful business partner in the past. But please, knowing where it came from will help."

Falco sighed. "Alright. I stole it from Venom."

"That much is obvious from the label. Be more specific."

"Deserters in Area 6. It's from the labs on Venom: the ones Andross specifically oversaw."

Pukes nearly fumbled the vial; she began to hold it very gingerly now, as if it might explode if she dropped it. "No wonder I don't recognize it. Well, give me a day and I'll find out what the components are, what the usage is—and, if it's worth it, how to synthesize more." Carefully, she slipped it into one of her lab coat pockets.

Falco drew out a brownish-orange medicine bottle and handed it to Pukes as well. "Oh, I almost forgot. I thought I could pay you with these."

Pukes held the bottle close to her eyes and read the label. "McCloud, James Fox…?"

"They're Fox's meds. He forgot them before he… uh, ran off."

She continued reading the label. "Well I hope he doesn't need these or anything."

"Yeah, he's probably fucked, but it's too late now. I just thought you'd be able to put them to good use since I can't get them to him in light of his… disappearance. Maybe they can do something about your insomnia?"

"Trust me dear, it won't go to waste." She cradled the bottle against her cheek, a blissful smile tugging her muzzle. "Unbroken night of sleep, here I come…"

Falco and Kitt sat up and shook her hand, then headed to the door—but Falco hung back, lingering with Pukes on the foyer for a bit. "Say, I know I've been gone for a while, but… has Katt been acting strange lately?"

Pukes bit her lip, glancing at Kitt as he walked out of earshot. She shook her head. "I don't know what you mean. In what way?"

Falco furrowed his brow, trying to find the best angle of approach. "She just seems kinda distant. Even from Kitt sometimes. I just feel like she's hiding something."

Pukes began fidgeting with her lab coat. "…Oh? Why?"

"Well, like today she was gone when I woke up, and Kitt didn't expect her back all day. Didn't even know where she'd gone exactly, but he said it was frequent. I know you don't go out much, but you're still friends with her, right? Do you know where she went?"

"She's—" but Pukes caught herself. "I… I don't know. I don't really keep tabs on Monroe. Besides, it's probably none of my business."

"Ah, okay. I see." He headed out the door and gave her a casual salute. "Well, thanks for doing this favor for me, Pukes. I'll catch you tomorrow to hear the results."

He stepped down onto the sidewalk, joining Kitt again—but the feline picked up on his worried expression. "What was that all about?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh, nothin'…"