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Mission No. 5

Corneria
McCloud Residence

"A Little Whimsy"

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When Fox's eyes opened, the world seemed fuzzy and warm. Light seeped in through the bedroom window, the translucent curtains burning with gold.

It's morning, he realized, but he still felt light and airy. A peaceful calm lay over him, complemented by an actual blanket: the fluffy white quilt covering his bed.

And he wasn't alone…

Fox twisted onto his side to come face-to-face with a beautiful fennec lying next to him. Her head and shoulders poked out above the covers, the sheets draping loosely over her chest. From her voluminous ears, pointed snout, and bronze fur, Fox easily recognized her even through his drowsiness.

"Hello, Fox," Fara cooed, fixing her green eyes on him.

"Fara…" Fox groggily mumbled in return. Then as he remembered the events of the day prior, he added, "What are you still doing here? I thought you left."

Fara giggled, reaching beneath the covers to play with the tufts of his chest fur. "You didn't think I'd leave you over some silly rebellious pranks, did you? Our love runs much deeper than that."

"You mean you're staying?" Fox's ears perked up. "Really?"

"I decided to give you one more chance since I know you can't resist me." And to prove herself right, she slid closer to Fox and embraced him. The todd sighed, glad to be reunited with his mate. Lovingly he caressed her shoulder blades and the small of her back.

"Mmmm," Fara murred, slowly pulling the covers down to get at more of him—

Then, her ear twitched.

"Fox… there's crumbs all over your bed."

He abruptly stopped his fondling. "Huh?"

Fara wiggled out of his arms, placing some space between them and whipping the sheets off.

"This is disgusting! What the hell, Fox?!"

He looked down at the patch of bed between them, horrified to find it entirely covered in a carpet of spicy, red peanuts.

"AAAH!"

Suddenly waking, Fox flipped off the couch and fell onto the living room floor. He rubbed his head and muttered, "Aw, geez…"

Sure enough, he lay in a flavor-dusted pile of spilled peanuts.

Sitting upright, he continued to nurse his head. "Remind me never to take a double-dose like that again…"

After sitting up and brushing some spicy nuts off the cushion, Fox checked his phone. Two texts had reached him that morning, probably in response to the messages he'd sent last night. Squinting through the morning grog, he tried to read the first of the numbers: 129-629-8585—oh, his therapist's number. Probably just wanted to set up another appointment ASAP; he could deal with her later. Instead, he decided to read the second, which was from Falco:

Got your message – sure sux
Will bring something to get your mind off u-know-who
Be presentable by 12.

Fox squinted up at the clock on his phone, seeing it was already 11:42. God, he felt like such a slob, and the fact that his stomach was sick only reinforced how disgusted he felt with enough with the self-deprecation; he had to get ready for Falco—not that he had to impress him or anything…

Shrugging, Fox decided to leave the mess and not bother to put on more clothes. Falco wouldn't care that he was wearing boxers and a T-shirt. But he had to at least brush his teeth—his breath probably reeked after those peanuts.

Stuffing a toothbrush full of minty paste in his mouth, Fox plopped back down on the couch. He flipped through the HV channels to pass the time till he landed on a news station: Cornerian News Network. Were they trustworthy? Who gave a shit. All that mattered was it occupied his time while he brushed his teeth, and most of their viewers probably treated it the same way.

Currently a white-furred stoat with glasses was speaking, while a text crawl scrolled beneath his head.

"…Incumbent Roland D. Finley recently secured a fourth term in office, now two terms more than any of his predecessors. Analysts attribute his victory to the unwavering leadership he showed during the Lylat War. But what is next for the president? His returning administration faces several giant hurdles: a system-wide unemployment average of twenty-five percent, closures of large banks, and devastated industrial blocs in the wake of the war. Finley says he plans to make good on his campaign promises to help Corneria—and the rest of the Lylat System—recover."

A second video screen expanded next to the stoat's head, showing a weathered Aberdeen Terrier with graying hair. He spoke behind a podium mounted before a sea of supporters, all waving signs with his name and campaign slogans.

"President Finley has proposed drastic measures to combat the crisis, but business magnate Morgan P. Fredersen has harshly criticized the president's policies in a recent interview with our network."

The stoat was replaced by a sharp-looking, suit-clad bull. He had a rather inflamed red nose, but his furrowed brow and piercing brown eyes immediately drew anyone's attention away from the feature, as if challenging them to comment on it.

"Finley is an idealist," he said in a firm but down-to-earth voice. "It's disappointing that his lofty promises have fooled so many of the Cornerian people, as they're actually self-destructive and harmful to recovery efforts. Leaving the gold standard is perhaps the most idiotic of his choices. That's unabashedly courting inflation, especially with his run-away government spending. I also must question how many terms Finley plans on serving? When will he accede to another leader? Without proper term limits, we risk becoming one of those other Lylatian countries with unaccountable dictators at the helm."

The screen returned to the spectacled stoat. "Falling in line behind Fredersen, corporate lobbyists are pushing against—"

But Fox's mouth was overflowing with toothpaste lather, so he muted the HV and returned upstairs to rinse. Politics had become so bland after the election. Whatever useless policies were being argued over had no effect on him; after all, he was loaded.

At least, he used to be…

The second he'd finished rinsing the doorbell rang. Knowing it was Falco he took his time before padding over to the front door and opening it.

Sure enough he found the avian standing on the porch: his good-natured rival and perhaps closest friend. Falco had his head feathers slicked back with gel, shaping them to be more aerodynamic than even his Arwing. He wore a loud button-down shirt stitched with a red floral pattern, leaving it unbuttoned to his white undershirt. Cargo shorts and flip-flops completed his hopeless tourist look. Yeah, the Cornerian west coast had that effect on non-natives.

"Thanks for coming Falco, I—"

He caught himself, shocked to see the pheasant was by no means alone. He stood on the porch with his wings casually draped over the shoulders of two attractive young ladies: one a peach-furred feline, the other a silver fennec. Both wore denim short-shorts and bikini tops, with towels draped over their shoulders.

"Um, uh…" Fox stuttered.

Falco chuckled. "Heh, what's the matter Fox? Surprised to see me on time for once?" He nodded down at Fox's lack of attire. "Looks like you weren't uh… expecting us this early."

The todd glanced down and blushed when he realized he hadn't put anything on over his underwear. The girls gasped and giggled but didn't seem bothered by his appearance.

"Well, can we come in? Or are you gonna make us stand out here forever?" the peach cat teased.

Fox gulped. "No-no, by all means, come in. Make yourself at home…"

He opened the door and stepped aside while Falco herded the two girls in. While they tiptoed on into the living room, Fox grabbed Falco's collar and yanked him aside so the girls couldn't see them.

"Falco, who are they?" he growled under his breath.

"Relax, Fox!" the avian laughed, coaxing the todd's hand from his shirt. "They're just some admirers of ours I happened to meet. If you actually got out there and browsed your options more, maybe you'd realize the real demographic makeup of our fanbase!" he winked.

"I know, I know, I've done plenty of signings and meet-n-greets—but what are they doing here?"

"I told you; they're to help you get over Fara!"

Fox sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Falco, I literally broke up with her last night—"

He cut himself off when he noticed another car pull up outside and park by Falco's vintage, cherry red roadster.

Turning back to Falco, he raised an eyebrow. "There's more of them?!"

"You can't party with just four people, Fox."

His eyes widened. "You planned a party at my house without telling me?"

"Well duh, then it wouldn't be a surprise party!"

"Falco—"

"Look, you asked me to get your mind off Fara—er, she-who-will-not-be-named—so here I am. The fastest way to boost your spirits is to meet some fun people, pig out on snacks, and load up on booze. Trust me, we're gonna have a great time today, and you're gonna get over her. Okay?"

He clasped Fox's shoulders and stared into his eyes reassuringly.

Fox frowned at first, then patted Falco's wing. "Oh, okay. What the heck? Maybe I won't feel so bad…"

More and more of Falco's guests arrived over the next hour. Though it had to be difficult to find people on such short notice, the impromptu party had a sizeable turnout. The avian managed to snag a good number of Fox's Los Pegasos neighbors and acquaintances: everyone from famous movie actors to fashion models, breakout musicians, and artists—though Fox considered the social media starlets scraping the bottom of barrel, even for Falco. Additionally there was an odd number of young women his age. He didn't want to know where Falco had corralled them all from, but at least they were more tolerable than that detestable influencer crowd.

Fox hardly had to do anything for the party—besides making himself presentable. Falco knew where he kept most everything and frequently helped himself to it: sodas, chips, frozen desserts, and most importantly of all, his alcohol stash.

With the golden west coast sun hanging lazily in the afternoon sky, the two teammates reunited on the pool deck, stretching out on beach chairs and soaking up the rays. They'd changed into swimsuits and wore dark pairs of sunglasses—though only half the reason was to block out the sun. In reality they wanted to feast their eyes on the feline and vixen carousing in the water.

Fox noticed Falco licking his beak as he shamelessly ogled. "You're looking kinda dry over there, Falco," he joked. "Can I get you anything?"

"Mm-mm." Falco reached beside his chair for the lone bag he'd brought. Unzipping it, he revealed an ice-cold assortment of sodas which he placed on the table between them.

"Is that—?"

"Whimsy Cola!" he proclaimed. "Already addicted to the stuff. If I had teeth like you, they'd be rotten by now!"

Fox studied the soda cans, admiring the saturated colors and cartoon-styled fruit logos. His friend brought one of each: grape, orange, strawberry, and pineapple. Falco had already cracked open the red can and was sipping from it.

"Ahhh. I dunno where the hell they came from, but they're super sweet and fruity. You gotta try one!"

"Well, if you give them that much praise…"

Fox opened the grape one and drank from it, enjoying the sweet stab to his tongue and the fizzy bubbles that filled his mouth.

He smacked his lips. "Wow. You're right, that is pretty good."

"Aw man, I'm gonna erect a friggin' shrine somewhere. You know, you should get a soda machine set up out here—just have some dude in a truck stop by every Wednesday and fill it up with Whimsy. Heh, you could call it Whimsy-Wednesday!"

Fox laughed sadly. "Yeah, I wish…" Looking around to make sure none of his neighbors could hear, he leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Listen, Falco, there's something I gotta tell you. I can't afford to do things like that anymore."

"Whaddya mean?"

Fox paused before answering. "…Peppy spent all the money."

Falco tore his gaze from the girls in the pool, momentarily raising his shades. "You shittin' me?"

Fox shook his head.

The bird let his glasses drop back in place and slumped in his chair. He crossed his arms and mumbled darkly. "Old geezer. I always said he was senile, but this is going too far!"

"Falco, he's only forty-something," Fox reminded him. "At least he used all the money to pay off the debt on the Great Fox. On the bright side I don't have a massive loan dangling over my head like it's about to teabag me, but now I'm essentially broke."

"What about your personal cut?"

Fox gestured around them. "You're sitting in it."

His friend whistled. "Wow. So you're boned unless you get a job?"

"Yeah."

Falco shook his head and looked out over the railing. "That sneaky bastard… He can't do that to us!"

"He can and he did. No way to fight it since he's legally the treasurer and he spent all of it to repay our debts." He sighed, rubbing his eyes beneath the sunglasses. "Yesterday really broke my ass, having all that happen at once. I got arrested, had my license revoked and my money stolen, and then Fara…" He shook his head. "I just feel like everyone's out to control my life. All Pepper's military goons are hounding me to give speeches and sign deals. Peppy's backed me into a corner where I basically have no other option but to continue his dream of Star Fox, and Fara throws a fit whenever I do something even slightly bad for my image—well, her image. I swear, that girl has no… whimsy." He frowned at his can of soda, then rubbed his temples.

"If you want my two cents, I think it's a good thing you split up. You dropped outta Flight Academy 'cause it was too restrictive, and turned down Pepper's offer to join the military as well. That ball-and-chain Fara's just as restrictive. You need to get yourself a free-spirited girl, Fox—not someone who's stuck up, has to help run momma's company, and always worries about her image. Naw, you two couldn't be more different. And what right does she have to break it off? She owes it to you after you and your dad saved her! And this is how she repays you? Trying to run your life and abandoning you when you don't fall in line? What a control freak."

Fox's whiskers twitched. "I know. Everything she ever did for me just seemed like… payment. You could say I earned it or whatever, but… what have I done for her recently?"

Falco spat a cloud of soda droplets from his beak. "Uh, saved the known universe? Hello? All of Lylat should be your bitch—not just Fara. Listen Fox, people put way too many expectations on you. Saving the world once is enough. You don't have to kick some villain's nuts every morning before breakfast to keep people's respect. All those ungrateful pests out there lose sight of that and hold you to this ridiculously-high standard, then criticize you for not living up to it. It ain't fair, man. Which one of those haters can say they did something even a fraction as amazing as you did? None of 'em! And yet they're all still whining and policing everything you do. You know what? Fuck 'em!"

Fox was slowly beginning to understand his friend's point of view. "Yeah, you're right! Who needs them." They both raised their cans and clinked them together. "Fuck 'em!" And they chugged the rest of their soda.

"Awesome." Falco set his can down with a hollow clank and rubbed his wings together. "Now, which one of those little water nymphs have you decided on?"

"What?"

He gestured at the young women playing in the pool. "You got the pick of the litter, Fox!"

The todd grimaced. "Oh no Falco, I'm not feeling it. I'm… not in the mood right now."

"Aw come on!"

"I just don't like the idea of getting involved with another girl so soon after…"

Falco slicked his head feathers back. "Geez, you talk about her as if she's dead and you're a widower or somethin'. Both of you moved on, that's it. I don't even think you had a real relationship or anything; Fara only ever saw you as a marketing tool for mommy's company, and you were just infatuated with her because she took care of you at your lowest."

"Yeah…"

"It was nothin' more than puppy love. After all, you were 15 when you first met, and she was 18. And if she really loved you, she would've hung around and supported you through your hard times instead of abandoning you like this."

"Still, it doesn't feel right."

"She's flying back to the capital, right? I'll lay you 10-to-1 she's already blowin' some rich exec's son in first class to further her shitty 'corporation,'" he said, using a snooty voice to say the last word. "Nah, you need to hook up with someone new fast. Fara's not the one. Believe me, the perfect girl for you is out there somewhere. Maybe she's in that pool, or this neighborhood, or somewhere else on Corneria. Maybe she's out there among the stars we haven't even explored yet. But that doesn't change the fact that she's waiting there just for you."

"Wow…" Fox looked out over the distant waves, which stretched as far as he could see into the horizon. "You really think so?"

"Nah. Hit up one of these bitches while you're still young."

The todd sighed in exasperation. "You are unbelievable, Falco."

The bird laughed, then leaned over to Fox and pointed. "For real though, I'm trying to score with the cat."

"What about your Katt? What happened to the 'special someone' bit you were lecturing me about?"

Falco waved one of his wings dismissively. "Ohhh no Fox, the fairytale ending is right for hopeless romantics like you, but it ain't for me. This bird can't be grounded—I'm a free spirit! Plus I haven't seen Katt since the Zoness offensive, when she tried flirting with my team's leader. That bridge is burned, baby." Leaning in towards Fox again, he whispered, "These fangirls are crazy into us! They'll do anything—and I mean an-y-thing!"

Fox wrinkled his nose at the suggestion. "That's kinda what has me worried. I don't want someone loving me because of who I am. I want them to love me because of… who I am."

The pheasant raised an eyebrow. "Uhh?"

He scratched his head. "Okay, that came out wrong. Lemme rephrase—"

"Shh!" Falco elbowed his side. "We got incoming: two pairs of big, bouncin' bogeys!"

"Falco, I don't want—!"

But Fox looked up to see the first two girls Falco brought to the party emerging from the pool like mermaids. Their wet paws slapped against the ground as they strutted over to their deck chairs. They didn't even bother drying off, letting the sun reflect off their shiny, soaked fur and the water trail down their pelts.

"Well, are you two boys ready to stop ogling us and say hi?" asked the feline, hooking her fingers into her suit to straighten it.

"I think it's about time you asked our names," the silver fennec pouted at Fox.

Falco slapped his forehead. "Oh, right. Fox, this is…" he trailed off, realizing even he didn't remember their names. "Uh…?"

The peach-furred cat threw an arm around her friend. "I'm Abby, and this is Ana!"

Falco snapped his feathers. "Yeah, Abby and Ana! Just on the tip of my beak."

"Of course we already know who you handsome boys are," Ana giggled.

"Mind if we sit?" Abby asked expectantly.

Falco scooted to the side, tactically leaving just enough room for Abby to fit so she had to rub up against him. Diverging from Falco's lead, Fox made ample space for Ana, but she was having none of it. The gray-furred fennec lay on her side and pressed snuggly against him. Her muzzle hovered breathtakingly-close to his own so that he could feel the warmth from each of her words.

"Now this is cozier… isn't it?"

"Oh, uh, hello!" Fox tensed and shrank back at first. Sirens in his head still screamed this was wrong, even if Falco had logically convinced him otherwise.

"Thanks for inviting us to your house," Ana said. "I was wondering, how formal is this party? It isn't like one of those stuffy military balls, is it?"

"Uh, no, it's pretty chill," Fox assured her.

"Good, good. Parties like that always have so many stupid rules; they get in the way of a good time."

Abby picked up on the direction of her conversation, knowing exactly where to help steer it. "Yeah, rules are always so restrictive. Like pools, for instance. You're never allowed to have any fun!"

Ana continued for her, listing off on her fingers. "No running, no diving, no drinks, no skinny-dipping…"

Abby sighed hopelessly. "And I'm afraid we're so bad at following rules."

"You girls wouldn't want to help us break a few of those rules, now would ya?" Falco proposed, waggling his eyebrows.

"I thought you'd never ask," Abby giggled, tickling the avian playfully.

Falco snickered before dramatically face-palming. "Aw geez, where are our manners? We haven't offered these girls any drinks yet! And I mean real drinks. Say Fox, you know where I could find your…?"

Fox grasped his meaning and was about to respond, but he suddenly caught himself. A strong sense of déjà vu struck him, and he realized he'd answered this same question for the pheasant many, many times before.

Internally he scowled. A friend indeed. Like everyone else he knew, there was always a catch. To the avian he was just a well-paying employer, a couch to crash on, and a fridge to raid. In the span of two measly seconds, Falco effortlessly undid all the good that came from talking with him just moments prior.

He sighed. "Bottom shelf of the kitchen fridge, behind the kale. Go wild."

"The perfect place to hide it. Excuse me, ladies."

Falco pried himself from Abby's arms and started indoors. He left Fox sitting stretched-out on his beach chair, his brooding eyes only masked by the pair of sunglasses over them. His mood had taken such a quick turn again he completely ignored the fennec snuggling up to him.

After Falco disappeared, Abby began to look bored all by herself. Glancing over at Fox and Ana, she smiled wickedly. Out of the corner of his eye, Fox saw her approach.

"Mind if I join you two?"

"Wait, I don't think there's enough room for-OOF!" Fox gasped as the feline sat down on his lap, forcing him to pay attention to her and snap out of his dark thoughts.

"It's fine! I like this seat the best."

Sandwiched between the girls, Fox now felt attacked on two fronts. He was great at avoiding enemy entrapments in the air, but on land? Alas, not so much. He squirmed beneath Abby, trying to reposition himself while anxiously glancing towards the sliding glass door, awaiting Falco's return.

"I love your hair," the feline said, lightly tracing her fingers through his white tuft. "Is it dyed? It makes you look so much more mature for your age."

In the meantime Ana realized she had competition. She began tracing Fox's arm muscles, feeling them in awe. "My, how strong… yet lean! You're very trim for a mercenary. Have you been dieting?"

"You could say that…"

She grabbed ahold of Fox's tail and began combing her fingers through it. "And your tail… so soft! Mind if I borrow it to dry off?"

"Uh, well—"

"Thanks!" Ana set to work scrubbing her soaking fur with his tail, rubbing it unabashedly against her front.

Abby shifted in his lap, reclining atop him and propping her head on his shoulder. "So you're the great Fox McCloud," she said in a silken voice. "You're quite the handsome boy on the news. You're not as square or as prudish as that other pilot—oh, what's his name? Sergeant Buck Grey?"

"Erm, Bill Grey," Fox corrected, unable to hide a smirk. "He's actually a good friend of mine; we were in the same Academy class together—Flight Academy, that is."

"Really? I never would have guessed it. You really are the roguish mercenary I saw on the news. All those army hacks lift you up as their pretty poster child…" She leaned in close. "…But you're really not as innocent as all that, are you?"

Now Ana began drying herself a little too freely, inching Fox's tail down towards her swimsuit bottom. "You've had quite the rebellious streak lately, haven't you? I've heard about some of your recent capers around Los Pegasos."

Fox chuckled nervously. "Oh, you have?"

"Of course! Those stories are so much more exciting than that official boring drivel about space fighters and fleets and planetary invasions. Some of them even… scandalous?" Her eyes sparkled at the word. "You aren't much for following rules either, are you?"

"Not really, no." He started sweating as Ana slipped his tail into her suit thong, grinning.

Abby resumed the attack on her front, picking at the knot tying Fox's swimsuit. "No, you want to be your own leader. You're the boss of this house; what you say goes. So why not make your own rules? Like, 'no swimsuits in the pool'…"

Fox glanced around, noting some of the other guests outside were starting to stare.

"Um, girls—"

Ana grabbed his phone. "Hey, mind if I take a pic of us with this? I'd love to send it to my friends." From the numerous fingerprints he'd worn over the 8 and 5 keys, she effortlessly guessed what his pin was after a couple tries.

"Ooh, ooh, send it to me, too!"

"Gladly, honey! Now scooch in!"

They hugged Fox uncomfortably from either side, kissing him and smiling as Ana raised the camera—as if he wasn't even there.

While the two beamed happy smiles, Fox couldn't hide a scowl on his face. They didn't care, either; as far as they were concerned, he was just another celebrity to brag about sleeping with to their friends.

"Aww, now smile, Fox! I'll give you a nice big kiss if you—HEY!"

Fox suddenly sat up, snatching his phone from her hand. "Well would you look at that!" he exclaimed.

"Wh-What? What's going on?"

"Sorry, I uh… just got an important alert. Dangerous criminal broke out of Albatroz Island. He was a bounty I put there myself, so he's most likely headed straight here to get revenge."

"B-But I didn't see any message—!"

Fox launched to his feet, abruptly dumping Abby onto the pool chair, her legs flying into the air.

"Excuse me ladies, I gotta deal with this. Don't want a mass-killer—and serial rapist!—crashing my party. I'll catch you girls later…" He nearly spat the last words under his breath.

Grabbing his towel and draping it over his shoulders, Fox disappeared inside, leaving Abby and Ana in a confused heap atop his pool seat.

The fennec sat up, crossing her arms indignantly. "Wow! The nerve of that guy!"