Have you ever tried falling asleep inside of a car that smells like mildew on the inside but the backseat *specifically* smells like rotten fish? I wouldn't reccomend trying. Even with every single drop of energy milked out of me, I still struggled to close my eyes and let my mind rest in the back of that vehicle. Back windows slightly ajar both so I could breathe and even then, the odor couldn't be vented out. I tossed and turned under that fur blanket, my head struggling to find a comfortable position on that pillow.
On the car's floor was the clothing that Slippy had handed to me on the way out of the bunker. I intended to put them on tomorrow. Truthfully I couldn't even get a good look at what exactly he handed me, could've been a pair of panties and a dress for all I knew. All I hoped was that those clothes would fit in the morning.
Man, I hadn't even realized I've been wearing the same outfit since the day I went to that convention center. Then again, I never could be picky with my clothes. My wardrobe was very limited, a blend of knock-off brand shirts, old dusty hoodies and all of my pants being denim pants of different colors, mostly blue, dark and gray. Me and sis would hit the local thrift shop every month or so to shop for new threads. She always had better fashion sense than me, I suppose.
It took me a few tries, but soon enough I had managed to find a comfortable position to lay and the smell was something I had become accostumed to. I was lucky I didn't catch a cold after landing in that puddle of water, I could not imagine trying to fall asleep back here with a clogged nose.
It was also, of course, inevitable that I would start thinking about my family in the back of that car, during the silence of the night, where all I could hear was the wind softly blowing against the rusted bodywork of that Fandango. My sister's voice echoed in my mind, her last words to me before I sent her on a mission to fish my family members out of our home.
Grandpa's voice echoed too. His words to me this morning. The first thing I had heard him speak in a couple of years and it was words of encouragement. He knew I was up to something. Tara must've told him? She always used to be a chatterbox with grandpa, after all, he was a good listener.
God, his voice...gravely, distant, yet, piercing. Jones never really told us much about himself before he went silent after that surgery. We've seen photos of his younger days, posing in front of Corneria's flag, wearing his army uniform, saluting the camera. Dad followed in his footsteps per grandpa's request.
It's odd, coming from a family with a military background, yet, stuck so far deep in the Cornerian ghetto. Maybe that's why dad was so nasty to us. He'd serve our nation, our flag, and then come back home to live in what was in his eyes essentially a shack. Try as he might, he couldn't get us out of that neighborhood.
...Who am I kidding. He never tried anyway. His credits were all spent on booze and car repairs. Sometimes Tara and I would wonder amongst ourselves if he were ever going to take us away from mom. In the end, he didn't care to. Or didn't remember to.
...Why am I thinking of this? I need sleep. I need sleep.
I need to fall asleep.
No dreams that night. Lights out, lights on. Soreness.
God. I was sore. I was really sore. My legs burned, my whole torso felt as if it was wrapped in a thick layer of sluggishness and pain. I turned onto my back, stretched my arms up. For a moment, I thought I was back home, but that thought quickly evaporated from my mind as I took a deep whiff through my nose and I smelled that lovely smell of mildew seasoned rotten fish.
Good morning, Chase.
I sat up, the leather squeaking under me as I did, pulling the blanket off myself, groaning as my body burned with every move. I rubbed the back of my neck, my eyes scanning around the inside of the vehicle, the morning sun peering through the windows, refracting off of those dogtags hanging from the rear view mirror. Huh. Were those always there?
Dearest stars, I needed a shower, badly. I wasted no time in getting rid of those clothes, zipping down my hoodie, tossing it on the front seat, followed right after by my shirt. Before I got to work on my pants, I did take a quick glance around out the windows, making sure nobody was spying on the antics of a now-homeless jackal. Seeing that the coast was clear, I worked myself out of those denim pants and kicked off my shoes.
I heard a thump falling to the car's floor, something heavy and weighty. The Blaster. Aw, hell, the blasted Blaster! Like forgetting my PDA in my pocket and then wondering where it is. I had gotten so used to the feeling of that thing's barrel poking the small of my back and brushing against the base of my tail I had forgotten about its existence. I reached down, grabbed it, tucked it under my hoodie for now, I'd figure a new spot for it soon.
Making do with what space I had and moving around in my white boxers, I reached over for those clothes Slippy provided. I prayed that he hadn't picked from his personal wardrobe, because there'd be no way his clothes wouldn't look oversized on me. Let's see here...
A white, plain bomber jacket. No design on it, white as snow, felt freshly laundered in my hands. Looked a lot like the jacket that Fox himself wore, only missing the patches of the team on the arms and the blue LED around the collar. I couldn't help but chuckle, a smirk rising in my face. This is the kind of jacket they would hand to somebody freshly added to the team.
...No, no, bad thinking. Get that out of your head, Chase. You're not like them. Don't stroke your own ego.
I set the jacket aside, reached down to pick up another. A very yellow jumpsuit. A pilot's jumpsuit? As I unfold it, I realize, no, it was a mechanic's jumpsuit. Space Dynamics Co. Ltd. written right on the back. Hm, likely used by Slippy himself to work on the ships back on the Great Fox. I wondered if it'd really fit on me, but, anything was better than sitting in an empty car in a parking lot only in my underpants.
I zipped the suit down, stuffed a leg in, then the other, pulled it right up over my waist, fitting my tail in and out the back hole. Pushing my arms in, I zipped it right up...felt big and loose. Damn it.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Knocks on the window to my right, scaring the marbles out of me!
"Push the button on the collar!" It was Falco, grabbing at the collar of his own jumpsuit, "It'll resize and adjust!"
"Jeez, man, a little warning next time!" I said as I reached for the collar. Feeling around with my fingers, I did eventually find a little button on it. Squeezing it with my index finger caused a bunch of air to suddenly blow out the neckhole of the suit, blowing the fur on my face as a leathery sound accompanied the gust of wind, the suit tightening right up around my thin frame. And just like that, it felt like wearing a second skin, "...O-Oh wow, that's sick!"
"Take it you've never been to pilot school before, huh?" He chuckled, leaning off the window and walking in direction to the driver's seat. The car shook as he opened the door and made his way inside, "You ready to get this show on the road, kiddo?" He'd turn the rear mirror towards himself, adjusting the blue feathers on his head, "Gotta be quick about it, Bale's interview starts later this evening and Fox wants the whole team there."
"Sure am..." I said, feeling my own body up through the yellow jumpsuit. I felt like a banana. I fished my PDA out of my jeans and slipped it down the jumpsuit's pants. As for that Blaster...I slipped on that white bomber jacket that Slippy provided, then, reached down for that gun when Falco wasn't looking, hiding that thing within the left side of the jacket. As I expected, there were pockets in there, deep enough to use as an improvised holster. Definitely would have to get used to the feeling of that thing brushing against my chest though.
Falco took in a deep breath, "Aaaaaalrighty, then, let's hit the road!" The car vibrated, the Fandango's old engine purring as we pulled out the parking lot. For my feet, Slippy provided a pair of brown work boots. Not the most comfortable ones, mind you, but comfort wasn't the priority at that moment. I moved myself toward the front passenger seat, plopping down beside Falco.
"Downtown Corneria, huh?" I asked as I buckled up.
"Little detour, actually." Falco shook his head, shooting me a little devious smile, "Let's just say your boy was on the phone with the girl while you were asleep." He chuckled.
"You were?" His intent flew right over my head, "Well, that's great, what did she say?"
"Oh, nothing yet, kiddo, but I do intend to make her talk..." He let out a very prideful chuckle. It was enough to make my brain click.
"Wait, you...you...you scheduled a date with her, didn't you?" I angrily questioned, "Goddamnit man, what the hell?!"
"Hey, hey, hey, relax, kiddo!" Falco interjected, still displaying a relaxed, proud attitude, "We're just gonna have a nice little discussion over some milkshakes at Donny's Café, nothing serious. Should be enough to get the information you need."
"Donny's Café? Where's that?" I asked.
Falco nodded, "Right over at the industrial district, next to a shoddy apartment building. Know the owner, he's a good guy. Trust me kid, I know how to work my magic with the ladies."
The car turned onto the main road, heading in direction toward the freeway that'd take us deep into the city.
"Right, right...and what do I do while you 'work your magic'?" I questioned, mimicking apostrophes with my fingers.
"Just stay outta sight and watch. Keep a lookout." He retorted, "We'll be in and outta there before lunch, I assure you."
Falco had decent taste in music. The ride to the suburbs was backed by the soft yet fast-paced beat of a DnB song. It helped keep my mind at ease, knowing what I was still stuck in.
Corneria's industrial zone. Not too far from home at all. Chimneys blowing up smoke into the atmosphere for as far as the eye could see. Factories every block or so, apartment buildings for workers right beside some. Shoe factories, synthetic meat processing plants, rubber manufacturing facilities, you name it. A brown and gray color pallette coated the entire district, very little vegetation around, not even so much as a shrubbery. The air felt heavier already. Like a pack of cigs per minute for as long as we were there.
And to think stuffing tins of sardines was what my mom wanted me to do when I hit eighteen. Thank the stars for Jim.
"There it is." Falco pointed through the windshield. A charming little diner, residing right beside a big, red, rather decrept looking apartment block. I noticed something as I looked up to it. A huge, black scorch mark on its side and visible construction material right above a gaping hole up top, with wooden support beams and scaffolding present along with it. Whatever happened there in the past, must've been a big fire .
'Donny's', the sign said right above the café. A line of workers waited outside, the front door of the diner locked shut, a sign visible through the glass, 'Sorry, we are CLOSED'.
"Can't believe you invited that lady to have breakfast here, Falco. This place's a dump." I commented.
"That's because you haven't tasted Donny's milkshake. Mmm, mmm." He savored the taste in his mind, licking over his beak, "Best shakes in town."
"You think they still hold up? Ten years later?"
"Donny still runs the place or so he tells me. No reason to doubt he's still got it!"
Pulling the Fandango up right across the street of the café, Falco prepared to leave the car, pulling the handbrake up and then poking my shoulder.
"Pop open that glove box in front of ya." He ordered. I followed, popping the lid open and peering inside. Pain medicine, oh, I need that. Napkins, tissues, a sunglasses case and...what's this? A black radio and a headpiece? I fish them both out with my hands. Falco immediately grabs hold of the radio.
"This radio is gonna go in here." He slips the device into his jacket, "Put on the headpiece. I'll be broadcasting the convo through it the entire time, but I ain't gonna be receiving." It was a three-point headpiece, much like the one Fox himself used, just missing the green eyepiece, complete with the microphone hanging by the side. I took it behind my head and slipped it on, the top end resting on the top of my skull, the other two ends fitting snuggly against my jowls.
Falco reaches toward the back of my head, taps something on the back of the headpiece. It didn't feel much different around my head. Falco swung the Fandango's door open, stepping outside as he reached into his jacket.
"Test, test, you copy?" He spoke. Though he weren't too far me, the earpiece vibrated with his words, allowing me to hear him loud and clear through it.
"Uhh, err, um, copy." I spoke into the microphone. Falco poked his head back into the car, chuckling.
"Like I said, Chase, I won't be receiving from my end. You'll be the one hearing everything that happens in there." He explained, holding the radio in his hand, his fingers clicking the device off.
"Oh, right." I leaned back into the Fandango's seat, my attention turning toward that café. Some time during our preparations, the sign on the door had been flipped around and now those famished factory workers were pouring into the café in droves.
Man, having a date with a lady like Turner in the industrial district. Either Falco's charm was really on another level or Donny's shakes really were worth coming here and breathing in the pollution for.
"I'm gonna head into the café. You stay right here and don't move a muscle, you got that?" Falco said, pointing at me through the open door.
I gave him a little salute, "Aye, aye, wingman."
He chuckled, "That's the spirit, boy." He leaned back, shut the door and began his stride toward the café. Watching him as he walked, it was hard to not notice the sheer amount of confidence just in his body language alone. Chin up, eyes forward, wandering toward Donny's wearing that Star Fox jacket, those metal boots, ready to cause an impact the second he walked through the door.
Going up the steps, Falco grabbed the door handle and swung it open, stepping right in. Through the headpiece I wore and watching everything through the windows, I could hear all that happened in there.
"Falco! FALCO!" A voice shouted from behind the counter. A shabby weasel wearing a polo shirt with an apron over it greeted the falcon, wandering toward him with a big grin on his face, "Stars above, man, I was wondering when you were gonna turn up!" From here, I could notice he wore an eyepatch on his left eye.
"Donnyyyyy!" Falco rose his arms gleefully as he made his way to the diner's counter, propping his foot up on the bottom of one of the stools as he leaned over it, "Been a long time, brother! How've you been? How's the leg?"
"Oh, you mean this old thing?" With one quick move and some impressive flexibility for an older looking gentleman, Donny propped his prosthetic leg up on the counter, holding onto one of the cupboards behind him for support. It ellicited a pretty funny reaction from one of the customers sitting beside him, who just stared at the prosthesis with big ol' surprised eyes, "Rusty and squeaky as always, but nothing a bit of oil and lubricant can't fix!"
"Good to hear, my man! Good to hear." Falco sat himself on one of the red seats, propping his arms on the counter, "Listen, old pal, I'm currently waiting on a date of mine to show up, would you mind making two of those delicious Donny branded milkshakes?"
"Hoh, man, you JUST got back to Corneria and you've already found yourself a new fling, huh? And here I was thinking we were gonna do some catching up on those ten years you've been gone." Donny removed his leg from the counter.
"Yeeeeaah, yeah, trust me, I've missed you too, my man. The team ain't leaving Corneria so soon, though, so, we'll have to do our catching up over a few beers later, huh?"
Donny shook his head, "Just say the word, big man. Let me get those shakes ready." And thus, he disappeared through the door behind the counter. I propped my elbow up on the car door, watching the traffic flow by. Trucks, buses and more trucks drove past my field of vision. Until something caught my eye.
Like a red, vibrant cherry in the mud, a sports convertible suddenly appeared from behind a bus and pulled up into the café's parking lot. Nagashimi Baron. Nice car, very old fashioned too. And who was that I saw behind the wheel? A green head of hair, accented by two black feline ears, and a warm yellow fur color accented by black splotches of fur along the body. Wearing a Kenoby red dress, she stepped out of the car, a black handbag in her hand as she made her way inside the café. That was Ms. Turner alright.
"Falco." Her voice came through the headpiece loud and clear as she called his name. The reach on that radio was pretty impressive, "I hope I didn't keep you waiting?"
Falco turned in his seat, his eyes focused on the lynx ahead of him. I could see him scanning her up and down, his eyes definitely admiring that slightly voluptuous physique she had. It did nothing for me from where I was seeing it. I just wanted to know that woman's secrets, "Caroline Turner. Glad you could join me." He said, a sultry, smooth tone in his voice.
Caroline Turner, huh? Interesting to see them both in a first name-basis.
"Here, I saved a seat just for you." What a gentleman. Falco pulled a stool closer to his. Caroline took it.
"Interesting spot for a date, Lombardi." She noted, taking her sunglasses off, placing them on the counter, "I wouldn't have guessed you have a soft spot for mingling with blue-collar workers in this district. I don't really come here too often. I find it...unclean."
Falco shook his head, snorting, "Oh, I just come here for the food and drinks. There's a certain taste to the stuff Donny makes that you can't get anywhere else in Corneria."
"Huh, is that so?" She spoke, audible doubt in her voice, "...I'd like to be convinced. Where is the waiter?"
The door behind the counter swung open as the weasel comes out holding two shakes in his hands, "Yep, yep, yep...here we are." Donny placed them on the counter. Couldn't really see what they looked like from here, but judging by Falco's reaction, he liked what he was seeing.
"Ooooh hoh hoh hoh, Donny...my man." Falco grabbed one of the milkshakes, audibly slurped over it, the radio picking up the sound of the liquid traveling through the straw clearly, "MmmmmmMMAN! Is it delicious!" He turned to Caroline, passing her shake to her, "Seriously, you gotta try it!"
Caroline seemed fixated on looking at Donny for some reason. The weasel simply laughed satisfiedly at Falco's reaction, "Glad I still got it! You two need anything else, all you gotta do is ask!" Donny turned to attend another customer.
Caroline turned her attention to the shake, grabbed it. She held it in her hands, shaking it in circles, "Hm...that's Donny?" She asked.
"Hell yeah." Falco nodded, "Veteran of the Aparoid War. Fought a horde of those things back by himself down in the metro tunnels. Was where he lost his leg too. Aparoids got to it and, well, the emergency surgery wasn't pretty."
"Oh, that's horrible!" Turner responded, but her lack of care was evident in her voice. Cold as ice. I could hear her tasting her milkshake as Falco talked.
"Yeah...tell me, where were you when the Aparoids came?" He questioned. Not exactly the answers I were needing, but I couldn't go in there and tell him to rush it.
"Oh, me? My parents and I fled to the nearest shelter the military was providing. We got lucky, we were one of the first ones to be let in. I don't remember much else afterwards...can't imagine the stress it must've been for all of you."
The Aparoids. Just like her, I remember very little. But I do remember enough to know that most of the shelters scattered around the city were not enough to house everybody. The elites, the rich and powerful, of Corneria were the ones who were let in first. Everybody else struggled. If they weren't let in, they were left outside to handle the invasion by themselves.
Thanks to dad's military service, we were let into the nearest one. Then he went back out to fight the Aparoids. I talk smack about him a lot, but at least he knew how to defend us and his planet. I don't remember much else otherwise, aside from soldiers scouting us in lines to these care centers they had estabilished in the bunkers. Later on, when the Aparoids were defeated, we were let back out. Our house, somehow, survived the chaos and we could just move right back in and pretend nothing ever happened.
"It was pretty bad, I can tell you that much...almost lost two of our own to them. But hey, that's in the past now. Star Fox is still standing strong and proud."
"So I hear. You're all heroes. And it is wonderful to be in the presence of one such as yourself, Mr. Lombardi." I could hear her smiling just through her voice.
"Oh, well, it is a pleasure to be in the presence of such a lovely lady like yourself, Ms. Turner."
Come on, Falco. This isn't what I need.
"Oh, I would love to have you or someone from your team as a personal bodyguard of mine...lately the streets of Corneria haven't been the same. The media likes to blame it all on you guys a lot, you know?" She crossed her legs, taking yet another long sip from her milkshake. Was making me thirsty myself.
"Oh yeah, speaking of which...I heard something went down at Dakota's the other day? Somehow about some guy harrassing you?" There we go.
"Hm?" She paused her drinking to turn her head to him, "...Oh, you're talking about the riff raff that was stalking me. Some badly dressed weirdo with bad breath tried coming onto me." My breath is bad? Shit, I haven't brushed my teeth in two days, that's right. Gotta find a breath mint.
"Tried coming onto you?" Falco laughed after he said that, "Hah! Who did he think he is, huh? What a loser." Thanks, Falco, "Did you know him?"
"Well...as a matter of fact, he was familiar to me." That's it. This is what I need, "...You are a trusted friend of Mr. Domino, aren't you, Falco?"
Falco seemed genuinely taken aback for a moment. I could see the gears turning in his head. My claims from the other night were starting to gain vailidity, "...Indeed. Domino is a close friend of the entire team. He was here for us during-"
"The situation with Krystal. Yes." Turner spoke over him, then sighed, "What a horrible time that was...I still remember the funeral processions the military held in her honor. The marches downtown. I even gave a speech in her honor at Dakota's."
"I remember." Falco solemly remarked, "I was there, at that speech. It was real kind words from you."
"Thank you, dear." She sighed once more, "...But, back to the topic at hand...the man that came up to me the other day. Well...Domino has reason to believe that jackal is working with Wolf."
What?!
"...Is that so?" Falco frowned, his head tilted. That...that bitch! "Tell me more, Ms. Turner."
"We have footage of him breaking into one of Domino's warehouses at the port and assaulting one of his employees. That same employee was being blackmailed by Wolf into doing his bidding. He was also the dingo that showed up during the QnA panel, said those words to Fox. He was there under Wolf's orders. Wolf later sent that jackal to dispatch the employee, as he no longer had use for him. Luckily, he failed, being the shoddy hitman he is. The employee was then taken under Domino's protection, he is currently residing safely in a rented mansion in Rockport Hills, paid by Domino himself and under security protection."
There's not enough words in the English vocabulary to describe the amount of rage I was feeling, listening to her attempt to frame me right in front of one of my idols. Stars. I wanted to swing that door open, storm into that diner and call her out right then and there. My fists were clenched, my breathing was intensifying. I was not a happy camper.
Falco looked a bit puzzled, his eyes trailing around as he seemed to be deep in thought. I feared what he thought. Was he going to turn on me? Or would he stick by my side? The suspense was killing me, "...Turner." He addressed her, "Does Mr. Domino know something about Star Wolf we don't?"
"Huh?" Turner seemed taken aback by the question, "What do you mean by this?" I could see a vague expression of surprise in her face.
"Why would Wolf target one of Domino's employees? Surely he knows about his power and influence in Corneria, no?"
Domino amassed an insane following starting around six years ago. From a stand-up comedian to a politician. Almost beat out Dr. Carmichael during the first election after General Pepper let go of Corneria and dissolved the military government in favor of a more democratic one. After he lost the campaign, he became a TV show host. His followers during the elections were his main audience, and then that audience grew. Nowadays, Domino was a celebrity doing a bit of everything. TV host, media influencer, life coach, even had starred in some shows as himself, like Cornerian Vice. At one point he was big into wrestling too, for some reason.
There have been talks recently of him wanting to run for the upcoming elections, which would begin in a few months. Our current prime minister is Jake Utika. I'd get more into Cornerian politics if I didn't have a conversation to eavesdrop on.
"Wolf is...I don't think anybody can describe Wolf anymore after what he did, Falco." She spoke, "The man has lost his mind. He is sick. Lost. And his team of barbarians do nothing but follow his steps into insanity."
"You saying him trying to mess with Domino is just another one of his crazy ideas?"
"Can you come up with any other reason? He probably wants Domino to talk about him on the next show. Speaking of which, that is this evening, isn't it?" Her tone suddenly changed to a more upbeat one, "I can't wait to see you and the boys there with him!"
"Oh yeah, it's gonna be awesome to see the man himself again after all these years! I can't wait, myself." Great. Like a train on fire, the conversation derailed. It wouldn't return to the topic I needed anytime soon.
Falco and Turner began chatting on and on about Domino. The way they spoke of the man was something I'd describe as 'verbal fellatio'. They went on and on about his accomplishments, what he had done for Corneria, supposedly for us, the poor. Talks of charities, donations, schools being built...projects that any rich man could pull off when they needed to save face. Not a word about some of Domino's darker controversies. Money laundering? No, never heard of it. Extortion? Extortion who?
I ended up slipping the headpiece off. I had heard enough. So that was Domino's plan. To frame me, as a gun-for-hire for Star Wolf. And this woman...I couldn't even tell if she was in on this plan or if she just believed whatever it were that Domino had told her. Clearly the spiderweb that was the networking between Corneria's elites was tight-knit.
My head hurt. My body still ached...I rubbed my temples, sighing in the car. I remembered the pain pills in the glove box. Popping it open, I fished out one of the bottles with shaky fingers. The bottle of pills managed to escape my terrible dexterity, gravity did its bidding by sending them straight down to the car floor, the bottle popping open, spilling its contents everywhere over my feet. Good one, you ditz. Now look at the mess you're gonna have to clean.
I lean down, grouping up pills into my palm and sweeping them back into the pill bottle, grumbling to myself about my clumsiness. As I sit up with most of the pills back in the bottle, I make sure to pop one into my mouth. No water, had to swallow it dry. Yuck.
Then, a voice.
A voice starts talking outside the car. Muffled at first, it didn't sound familiar. That changed when they got closer, the speaker standing right outside the driver's side window.
I turned my head, looking right outside of it. I see a yellow canid. Earrings on his ears, wearing a shabby, messy suit with a loose tie. Gary. The dingo. What the hell was he doing here?
"Boss, boss, please, you gotta give me a chance...look, I'm trying to track down-...boss, please!" He spoke into his PDA, his tone frantic, just like the other day. I was surprised he was still kicking. By this point, I had figured he had been put into concrete shoes and made to take a swim in the Cornerian River, "I'm looking for her. Look, I see her car, she's in a diner right in front of me...y-yeah, yeah, this place called uhhh, Donny's."
I remained still in the car. Luckily the reflection of the window outside probably prevented him from seeing me. He, then, turned himself around, putting his back against the Fandango.
"...The apartment buiding?" He spoke up, turning, facing the red apartment block by the diner, the one scorched at the top, "...You-...you want me to go in there? Why, boss?" He walked around the Fandango and I leaned down a little to make sure he didn't see me through the windshield. He stood in front of the car, "A-Alright, alright, jeez, I'll go, I'll go!"
With that, he crossed the road, heading in direction of the apartment block, his voice growing distant as he went.
This was an opportunity. I couldn't miss this.
I opened the door quietly, then shut it with just as much grace. The sun now beamed down hard on me, the weather heating up much like I felt the tension in me grow. A distracted dingo and a jackal following after him. Here we go on another special mission, secret agent Chase.
Keeping ground between me and Gary, I follow him up to the apartment block. He walks up a couple of steps and disappears into the main entrance.
Dingy ass apartment block. There wasn't even a receptionist working the front desk. In fact, the lobby was completely vacant. And as I tracked Gary down the first floor, it all felt eerily quiet...desolate. Only his voice was heard as he continued to plead and communicate with whoever it was on the other line, probably Bale.
Eventually, Gary took an elevator. I hid around the corner until the doors shut completely. Quickly running up to the elevators, I could see the counter above counting up to eight. Level eight, huh? I called the elevator next to it and stepped in as soon as those doors slid open.
Inside, a digital mirror, flicking itself on with a suave fade as I step inside. Stars, I looked exactly like somebody who had just come out of a Cornerian starport. It wasn't exactly the best outfit to wear for a lowkey mission like this. If anybody were to catch me in the act, no doubt they'd think I was either an authority figure or a merc.
I turned around, set the elevator to head to floor eight. The hum of those gears whirring above me were the soundtrack to this stealth mission. Hm, a dark, low drone. Ambience. Suspense. I like it.
The doors opened and I stepped out. A long, garbage-filled hall of doors, cracks on the walls, flickering lights above and Gary trying a door not too far ahead. Spotting a janitor cart, I hide behind it, just a few steps away from the dingo.
"T-Trying the door now, boss." Gary said, rattling the doorknob vigorously, "...Locked." He spoke, then put the PDA down for a moment, a long sigh exiting his chest as he vigorously knocks on the steel door, "Open up! Bale sent me!"
Peering around the cart, I watch the scene. An eagle, dressed in a dark hoodie, pants and combat boots answers the door. Fingerless gloves over his hands, "...Were you followed?"
"No, no, I wasn't." Gary responds. The eagle wraps his talons around his tie and pulls him right into the door, the dingo yelping as he's yanked in. The door is closed shut.
I step up toward it. Trying the door was a no-go, I already knew from the sounds of keys rattling the lock that it wasn't opening again. Instead, I spot a breach in the wall right on the left, pipes slightly obscuring the view inside. What I see sends some chills down my spine.
A boar, a labrador, a rat and a coyote, all dressed just like the eagle, with rifles hanging from their backs by slings. The coyote had a sniper, the boar had picked a shotgun and the labrador had a machine gun. What the hell did I stumble into?
...No. No. Too much. Too much. I needed to turn back, I couldn't tango with dudes packing like this on my own. I stepped back, turned toward the elevators and figured I was getting the hell out of dodge.
Which was right when the furthermost door on the hall in the right was kicked open. Shit. I duck for cover behind the janitor cart again. I heard laughing. I peek around and I see a hyena come out, dressed just like the other goons, walk out...followed by the biggest, beefiest son-of-a-bitch I had seen in my life. Holy shit. A rhino, huge enough he had to duck when walking through the doorway, built like a brick wall, steps out behind the hyena, a grumpy look on his face, wearing a white tank top and camo pants. Hell no.
My legs grow weak, I slump on my back against the wall behind me, still hidden behind the cart. I couldn't let that big motherhumper find me. I needed a way out.
Eyes scanning around the hall, heart beating fast. I feel the floor vibrate with every step of that massive rhino. My eyes center on a ventilation grate just to the left of the breach in the wall. Yes, this is what I needed. Surface Tension.
I crawl on all fours toward the vent, passing the breach on the wall, hoping that rhino and the hyena wouldn't turn to look my way. I grab onto those bars and like my life depended on it, I shake. I shake and shake, hoping it would pop right off and that I could climb right in. And like my prayers were answered, it did. I slide it to the side carefully and I crawl myself right into that tight, claustrophobic hole.
This was easier in the video games. It was dark, cold and so, so uncomfortable. I can't see a thing in front of me, only feel up with my hands. I crawl and crawl into that dark tunnel. In my mind, I'm hoping I won't get stuck on something and die lodged in there like a rat stuck in a mousetrap. I wasn't being as subtle as I could about it, scurrying in there made a lot of noise. One arm at a time, tip of my feet pushing me forward, crawling like a soldier in a battlefield.
Eventually, my hand hits a dead-end. Before my hopes could be killed, though, I spot light coming from my right. Vent grates. An exit. Turning around the bend was torture. It took me a while, trying to fit my chest around the corner, trying to push my self through. My fears of getting stuck in there were at its highest here, when I was trying to fit my ribcage through that corner, my hands reaching for those vent grates, grasping onto them, pushing and pulling, begging them to open up.
And just like that, they pop right open, falling against the carpet flooring of the room I was heading into. I didn't care who was in there. I needed out. I needed out of that dark vent.
I crawled out like a rat, gasping for air, rolling onto my back as the light above me illuminated me. I look around. Seemed I was in a small, tight guest bedroom of sorts. However, it lacked the bed, instead, it had a mattress, cracked, defaced walls and a big hole in one, which led to the rest of the apartment.
I stood up, walked up to the hole. It led right to that main room, with all the gun-toting psychopaths. The room was decrept, falling apart. Support beams scattered around, half-done construction work leaving some of the walls bare, with the foundation exposed. They chatted amongst themselves, grouping up in the far corner of the room. Gary was nowhere to be seen. However, I do notice these crates, all scattered around the room. On the crates, I notice a logo and a name written on the side, 'Norinko Inc.' Mental note made.
I move away from the hole, toward the door to my left. Opening it slowly, I have to stop myself and quickly hide around the doorway as directly in front of me is another open doorway, leading to a bigger room. Gary was there, sitting on a chair, newspapers covering the floor under it. I could see the outside in that room. It was the same open gap I saw on the building's exterior earlier.
"Guys, p-please, we can work this out-" Gary argued with an out-of-view assailant.
"Bale's orders, bucko." A deep voice responded. The eagle walks back into view. In his hand, he carries a blaster. Oh shit, "If you hadn't been trying to evade us, this would've gone down a lot sooner and quicker."
"You guys FIREBOMBED my house!" Gary screamed, his hands up to his chest, pleading with the eagle, "I wasn't just going to sit there and burn to death! L-Look, Bale is overreacting, you guys don't have to do this...p-please, don't do this!"
The eagle silenced Gary by striking him in the face with the Blaster, knocking Gary off the chair, "Real stupid to come here if you didn't wanna get killed. You were always good at only doing what you're told, huh?"
"D-Don't-"
"Following orders," Gary crawled away from the eagle on his front, but he menacingly followed him, "Doing chores...doing your job. Never once in your life did you think about doing something meaningful with it. Just a good little office worker, doing every single thing your boss tells you to. Including getting involved in this, huh?"
"HE THREATENED MY FAMILY IF I DIDN'T DO IT!" Gary screamed. The worst part was, I could see him crawling towards the opening in the wall, where he could shout for help from the top of the building. But I knew well enough that nobody was coming to save him.
I...put him in this situation. This is my fault.
"You're gonna die a loser, Gary. Just like all other retired employees. You could've been like me." The eagle pointed his blaster toward Gary's head. Gary looked back, facing him, "You could've been a winner. Only winners stay alive in Corneria."
PLONK PLONK PLONK PLONK PLONK PLONK
I don't know what made me do this.
WHAM!
But I just felt like it was the right thing to do.
I sprinted into the next room, ambushing the eagle from behind. With a shoulder charge, I slammed into his back, knocking the wind out of him. The impact knocks him off his feet, sending him into a headfirst dive forward. Right out the hole in the wall.
I hear him crash into the scaffolding outside, just below the crevice. He'd be okay. I hoped.
"WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK!" Gary shouted after this series of events, curling up into a ball beneath me as I look down to him.
I had no expression on my face. I couldn't believe I had just done that.
"...Y-You?!" He exclaimed to me.
"...I-I..."
"HEY!" A voice shouts behind me. I turn to face the boar, standing at the doorway, a pale expression on his face, clutching his shotgun in his hand, "...Shit! It's Star Fox! STAR FOX IS HERE!" He shouts to the others.
I spot a door to the left. I don't wait for permission to start running for my life I dart toward it, bursting right through it. I'm now in an improvised dormitory of sorts, bunk beds lined up in a column, a dresser beside each, and a window to my left. Tiled flooring underneath me, ready to be painted with my blood.
I waste no time in shutting the door and dragging one of the dressers directly in front of it, blocking it, shutting them out of at least one access to the room I was in. A violent bang comes from the door as they attempt to burst through, followed by a high pitched "Ow!" From one of them on the other side. I take a few steps back.
RATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATA!
Loud, thunderous machine gun fire peppers through the door as I jump to the right to avoid the volley of bullets flying into the wall behind me! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...I look toward the window, the bunk bed beside it. The sheets. Oh, I can't believe I'm gonna try this.
I yank the sheets off of the bed and I begin wrapping around them around my waist as best as I can. I hear the dresser being rattled, the door being kicked over and over, the hinges of it falling apart. I tie the other end of the sheet on one of the bunk bed's legs. I'm panting. I'm huffing. Adrenaline is being infused into my blood like it never has before. My ears ring from the volley of gunshots from before. And they ring more when a hole is blown through the door from a shotgun blast. A hand reaches through, starts trying to topple the thing over.
"WE'RE GONNA GET YA, STAR FOX!" One shouts from the other room.
"WE'RE GONNA SKIN YOU ALIVE LIKE WOLF DID TO YOUR GIRL!"
I can't stay here longer. I push the window up, opening it. The breeze of that polluted air hits me as I poke my head out, leaning onto the windowsill. One foot after the other, blanket wrapped as tightly as I could make it around my waist, "O-Oh...oh..." I make a mistake immediately. I look down. Never look down.
I must've been at least thirty or so stories up. It was a view high enough to see the entire industrial district. One gust of wind and I'd be certainly knocked into one goreffic demise into the concrete below. I could see the café directly in front of me.
"Oh, Chase, what the hell are you doing?" I moped. My body grew warm. The pills from earlier had made it numb, but now, it was warm, warm with the terrible dread growing in me, "Oh my stars, I can't believe I'm doing this..."
A loud sound comes from behind me. I look over my shoulder. The dresser was toppled over. They were bursting in. Boar first, labrador second, coyote third. I didn't wait around to see the rat. They had their guns pointed right at me.
"LIGHT HIM UP!" They shout.
I take one more look down. And then, my feet leave the windowsill.
I don't know when was the loudest time in my life I've screamed. Maybe it was when I was hit by a car while riding my bicycle at eight. Maybe it was the day dad put out a cigarette into my hand for not behaving at the dinner table. Or maybe, it was today.
My vocal chords trembled with the absolutely guttural scream I let out as I flew out that window. The bed sheets around me were going to be the proof of my quick-thinking and handcraft or my absolute stupidity. It felt like everything was in slow-motion. The red concrete wall passing me by along with the windows. The blanket extending as I fell.
And then, it hit its limit.
A strong pull on my back as the sheets secured me firmly, suspended me in the air. The fall was broken, I now hung a couple dozen feet off the ground while feeling the knot I made around me slowly undoing itself.
My feet prop up against the window in front of me. I couldn't see what was behind it; I didn't care. I look over my shoulder, toward the floor. I spot the café. I see the door swing open and out, comes a green haired cat lady and a blue bird man. They seem distracted in their own convo to notice me. I question screaming for help for a moment. Then, I feel the sheets get looser, dropping me a few inches before suspending me again.
I look up and I see the boar smiling at me, before poking his head inside. The sheets. They were cutting the sheets.
I look forward. I see the window. I try kicking it, but even with those brown boots, I barely make a dent in it. I'm left with no other choice. Reaching into the bomber jacket, I retrieve the Blaster. And by the stars, I blasted the living hell out of that window.
The sound of those laser blasts cracked across the Cornerian sky as that window felt the fury of my blaster. Firing a gun...it's really something. Even when the target was merely my own reflection on that glass. The Blaster kicked in my hand like it were fighting my grip, attempting to escape. As I shoot, I swing myself back and then right forward, sending myself into the broken window and crashing right through that glass, just as the sheets lose all weight, dropping me inside on my back.
Laying in a sharp blanket of broken glass, the Blaster's muzzle smoked in my hand. I slowly sit myself up, feeling the shards falling from the back of my jacket as I do. I clamber onto my feet, holding onto a nearby bathtub for support. Darting toward the door in a daze, I step outside, finding myself in an empty living room. Nobody's home. I pocket the Blaster.
This is crazy. This is insane. I felt like I was in a movie of my own. All cameras on me. I stumbled toward the door.
Locked, of course. Time to pull out the old reliable. The brute method. I put my foot back and then bring it full force toward the lock, slamming my sole into it as hard as I could. Results were less than satisfactory as I lose my balance and collapse on the floor on my side.
Nevermind, I was in no movie.
But that didn't mean I was gonna be bested by a damn door of all things. I had just jumped out of a window into another. No. I had jumped out of a window while being chased by armed thugs in a derelict building. I needed this door open. I DEMANDED it to be open in my mind. I was better than this. I deserved more.
"Open," I mouth as I prepare for another kick, "You stupid piece of-"
I was, then, interrupted by the door in front of me being absolutely sent off its hinges in my direction with a loud, deafening bang coming from behind it. The steel slams into my face, I feel like my muzzle was flattened with the intensity of the hit, sending me off my feet into the wall behind me, the heavy steel landing on top of me. My ears were ringing, but this had just made the tinnitus in my ears crank its volume up to max.
My mind was a blur, my body was weak. My head dances around in a slow tango as I open my eyes. I see...nothing. I see white. Wait. Camouflage?
Uh oh.
A hand suddenly flies into the direction of my eyes. A palm wraps itself around my face, big sausage fingers curled above my head and between my ears as I am lifted up off the ground.
"You...You're not Fox McCloud!" A gruff voice snarled. The grip around my head tightened. I felt like my skull was gonna cave in, "But you dress like you belong to his team! What are you, a pathetic, whimsical wannabe?!" I groaned in pain as he continued to squeeze my head. This rhino must've been at least three feet taller than me. There was no way I was fighting out of that grasp. I was at his mercy, "...Hahahahahah...you stupid kid!" He swings me to the left, then, launches me to the right. My body becomes a projectile. Its intended target? A glass coffee table in the middle of the room. I crash into it like a soccer ball hitting a window.
In a blind panic, I reach for my Blaster. I point it at him, my hand shaking like a washing machine with rocks in it. But he's faster. He snatches the thing out of my hands, "Gimme!" He says, like a schoolyard bully snatching a toy out of a child's hands. He laughs, taking a step back, holding my Blaster up, it looking like a mere scaled down replica in his massive hand. My hand lands defeatedly beside my head, "Guns are for wussies!"
He crushes the Blaster in his hand, the sound of metal snapping loudly as components fly out of it and onto the floor. He tosses it aside behind him. As it lands by the door, a bit of smoke starts to come out of-no, no, scratch that, A LOT of smoke starts to fizzle out of it before it suddenly begins erupting into fiery sparkles. The battery. Should've thought about the battery, shithead.
"Huh?!" The rhino looks behind himself, watching the fireworks display coming from what used to be the firearm entrusted to me by my sister. It was an impressive light show, but I didn't feel like sticking around to the end. I couldn't manage to kick that door open...but there was something else I could kick right now that would yield much more satisfying results.
WHACK!
"OOOOOOUUFFF..." My feet slammed into the rhino's groin. His legs went weak, buckled, and he fell to his knees. And with another prime example of feetwork, I send my other foot flying into the rhino's face, clashing into the side of his face, sending him flying onto his side onto the room's wooden entertaintment center, the TV landing right on top of him as he collapses like a tree.
I clamber up onto my feet, watching as the Blaster had now turned into a small fire. I ran past it, out the open doorway. I see the elevators down the hall. I sprint toward them.
I mashed that button knowing full well my life depended on the speed of that elevator coming down quick enough to rescue me. I watched that number tick down. Eight, seven, six, five...the doors opened. I ran inside, slammed my fist into the ground floor button.
I needed out. I needed to leave. Every agonizing second standing in that elevator was torture. I could hear the sand in my hourglass falling to the bottom.
Ding. The doors open. I run out. In the back of my mind, I wondered about Gary. Wondered if he had made it out too. I sure as hell hoped so, otherwise this entire mess would've been for nothing.
The double doors leading me to freedom from this cursed apartment shined in front of me like an objective being highlighted in a video game. I burst through them, jump down the steps, landing on my feet on the sidewalk.
I was out...and then I wished I had stayed in.
THUD!
Right in front of me, Falco Lombardi lands on his back, agonizingly holding at his beak. I look up to see Caroline Turner, posed up like a heavyweight MMA fighter, in the middle of the street. We trade looks. I feel chills on my spine.
"...You." She snarls like a woman whose soul was made of brimstone and the fires from the depth of Hell shined in her eyes. She begins walking toward me. I step back.
Behind her, I see something else. The Fandango. Torched, up in flames. Hooligans dressed in black surround it, cheering their little bonfire on.
"CHASE!" Falco shouts on the floor. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out something cylindrical. It has a pin on it. It's a grenade, "RUN!" He says, pulling the pin. Holy shit.
I immediately dart in the other direction. Falco tosses the grenade up into the air above him. A loud, deafening bang ensues and I hear Turner groaning in pain. I look over my shoulder, I see nothing but a cloud of smoke in the air, Falco writhing on the floor, Turner obscured by the cloud.
I turn back around and I sprint. I run and I don't stop running. The ringing in my ears get louder, the world around me gets muffled and blurrier. In the distance, I can hear the sirens.
I put my fingers to my neck and I feel my heartbeat again.
I feel terrified.
I feel like I wanna curl up and cry.
I feel...alive.