Prologue
The only things that would scare me more than not knowing where I'm going in life, would be knowing. -William C. Hannan.
Lylat System.
Planet: Corneria.
Year: [REDACTED]
Location: Space Dynamics Co. headquarters.
The cramped cubical-like spaces in the rather futuristic looking office was a sight to behold. Be it depressing or astonishing was a subject of debate among the humanoid-like animals that worked their lives away trying to work out shipping forms, funding documents, and classified files. One of the poor Cornerian's that happened to wind up in such a place, sat behind the monitor of his work device, checking to see if any intergalactic messages or anything of the sort had been sent, to no avail.
I need to get a raise some point soon, the dog thought to himself, as he leaned on his arm for support.
A noise, however, beeped into his ears, making them twitch with agitation. The canid's heartbeat picked up rapidly which in turn caused his tail to sway like crazy. He quickly navigated through his monitor before the green text of the monochrome monitor read aloud:
INTELLECTUAL MESSAGE OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN INTERCEPTED. CODE: MAYDAY.
The dog glared at his monitor in disbelief. Quickly, his thoughts whirled around on what his primary objective to do now was. Reaching under his desk, The dog found his desired object, and flipped through the manual booklet with urgency.
Lets see… his thoughts said, Code: Hayday. Nono! Wrong one… I, J, K, L, M; here we are. Come on, come one, M. A. Y. … Code: Mayday. Contact commanding officer and inform them of the matter; from there, they should be able to handle it.
The dog shut the manual, and reached for the wired phone built into his monitor desk space
"Reception?" the canid uttered into the phone's reciever, after he'd punched the number in, "Put through to Mr. O'Donnell… Yes, I'm aware he might be busy, just tell him it's urgent and that it's his duty to take my call… Thank you."
The line went quiet, The dog waited silently and swayed his tail in anticipation. Finally, the receiver blinked red.
"Sir?" the dog inquired, shakily.
"I was told it was urgent" the deep, sinister voice on the other end seethed, "Out with it."
Almost on the opposite side of the company building, sat a grey wolf, though his grey fur had since lightened with time, behind a pristine wooden desk in a dark office that had its blinds tightly shut, leaving a lamp to be the only source of illumination.
An eyepatch rested on the wolf's right eye, while scars ran rampant across his muzzle. Though, one thing certainly was off about Wolf O'Donnell: a business suit.
"Yes, of course," the worker whimpered on the other end, "Our satellites in Sector X on RU-979 had picked up a foreign distress signal in the Zeta II Reticuli system."
"So what?" Wolf uttered gravely, and lit a cigar, "Just forward it to the authorities, and they'll handle it."
"There hasn't been any sign of life in that system before now," the dog relayed with a serious demeanour.
O'Donnell's ears twitched in mild surprise but his left eye widened in curiosity. The Canidae took the cigar out of his mouth and pushed a button on the side of his desk which opened in the centre to reveal a small secluded yet still functional monitor of his own.
"Come again?" Wolf inquired the phone, as he booted the screen to life.
"This is the first sign of a life that possibly exists out in uncharted territory, sir," the dog replied.
"Are we sure this isn't any familiar form of life that just happened to have the worst luck in that system?" the former mercenary voiced his doubt.
"Well..." the phone replied, the worker sounding a hint of embarrassment at not considering it, "I mean, it's possible..."
"Have you even listened to the message yet?" Wolf asked.
"No, sir, I was just about to-" the dog began.
"Just send it my way," the wolf interrupted, and whipped his tail in annoyance, "I'll see what I can make of it. You get back to work for now and I'll get back to you if I need to."
"Yes, sir," the phone answered, and went dead not long after.
O'Donnell glared deeply at the screen of his monitor until it alerted him of an incoming file. The canine slowly worked his way through the file before he found an audio file titled 'DM', opened it, and listened alone in the dark office.
A female cheetah in a mechanic outfit strolled through the shelves of digital databases, checking that each was in their proper order of storage. Suddenly, the pocket on the back of her pants buzzed and vibrated. The feline Cornerian reached behind her to produce an earpiece shaped to fit around her ears and slipped it on.
"You've reached the File Room of SD Co., please identify your person," she spoke into the microphone.
"Hello, dear," O'Donnell's unforgettable voice replied, sending a chill through the feline's spine, "I have an important duty for you to carry out."
"Very well, Mr. O'Donnell," the cheetah said, and tried her best to not sound disdainful, "what is in my power to help serve you?"
"I require you to forward the files on the Prometheus, Covenant, and Messianic reports," the wolf's voice demanded.
The cheetah's fur perked up and her tail swayed like crazy.
"I-I'm sorry, s-s-sir," she stuttered, "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course not," O'Donnell replied slyly, "Those files don't exist nor will they. The events which they contain about are purely a myth conjured out of nothing. And I never even asked about such files, 'cause I never have even had the slightest clue they existed. Do I make myself clear?"
The cheetah glanced around, making sure that no matter what she was not being watched, before she covered the mic and whispered: "You understand the risk you are taking? Not only are you risking your job, but mine as well! If I give you these files, promise me you'll not mention me in the slightest if you're caught."
"Oh, my dear..." the canid tsked, "I intend on being caught, but don't worry I will not give you away at all. I expect to have those files soon; ta-ta."
Before anymore could be said, the line went dead. The cheetah bit her lower lip and debated whether she really would follow through with the wolf's wishes.
Yaru de Pon, president of SD Co., stood looming over his blueprint schematics of a new weapon which had entered the tanuki's mind. The mechanic took off his cap and wiped the sweat that stained his brow. On the gridded sheet of blue paper were the sketches of a new pulse rifle; Yaru always felt slightly upset whenever he designed something so beautifully made, its main purpose was to do the exact opposite: destroy.
The tanuki's train of thought was disrupted by the sudden beeping of his comm-link. Turning away from his work, Yaru approached the device's screen and in two shakes of his tail, turned on the communication channel. It wasn't long before the mechanic wished he hadn't done so. Immediately, the screen displayed the static visage of Wolf O'Donnell; Yaru wondered why he had even agreed to take the former outlaw in as a worker, but then again after the Incident, what danger did he pose?
"What do you want, Wolf?" Yaru questioned, with disdain in his voice.
"Pity to disturb you, sir," the canid replied, the audio sounding a bit static, "But I have a hunch that you're gonna want to hear this."
"For the last time, no; I will not file a form to get you pilot ranking," the tanuki retorted with annoyance, "If that's what you called me for, I'll have to take out your comm-link from that office too."
"I heard you loud and clear last time," Wolf responded, and continued to feign a sense of respect, "But that's not my reason for disturbing you."
"Oh?" Yaru said, and perked up his ears in mild curiosity, "Very well, O'Donnell, I'm listening."
"And I thank you for that," the projection said, "I was wondering, has the system Zeta II Reticuli ever been a familiar title to you?"
The mechanic's fur perked up and his eyes widened in fear while his tail hung lifelessly behind him. Yaru glared at the comm-link's screen as he pondered on how much the ex-outlaw knew.
"I'll give you a hint," Wolf continued, with a smirk that formed upon seeing the tanuki's reaction, "It's the system the last recorded information of the Messianic case came from before everything relating to the event vanished."
"Who gave you those files?" Yaru asked in a threatening voice.
"I found them," Wolf lied.
"You realise what you are risking?" the mechanic said, his voice somewhat unstable, "I could have you imprisoned for this, at the least fired; and that would leave you without any source of income."
"Of course, sir, but firing me or getting me locked up would attract some kind of attention or leave people wondering why that happened to me," the canid explained, "Me, who dared rival the legendary Star Fox; surely that ought to get some nosy reporter to look for a scoop. But let us digress from the 'ifs' and remain with the 'is'.
"I only sought out the files because something interesting has arisen," Wolf elaborated, "A ghost of a buried past, shall we say."
"Go on..." Yaru said, and calmed himself in order to take in the man's words.
"Not long ago, one of my subordinates had picked up a distress signal from one of our sectors that managed to receive the signal from that system," Wolf continued, and raised an eyebrow, "Now, what would a distress signal in a system that has never before shown a sign of life, where a forbidden case file claims to have ended near said system, be doing there?"
"Do you have this signal?" Yaru asked, his heartbeat having slowed down the more he listened.
"I do," Wolf answered, "Would you like me to play it?"
The tanuki nodded and, quietly, the canid on the screen worked his monitor to pull up the source file. Yaru listened. His ears twitched in agitation, his tail swayed in horror. For twelve whole seconds he listened before it abruptly ended.
"That's it," Wolf uttered, "Now, I'm not one to tell people how to do their job, sir, but I do believe that it is under our morally upright decision that we should act to find who sent this, and try to recover them before it's too late."
"Notify the authorities then," Yaru replied with a wave of his hand, "I don't see why we should do anything about it; we're not a rescue company for goodness sake."
"There are two issues with what you just said, sir," Wolf retorted, "Firstly, even if we notify the authorities we don't know how long they could take to get there, at the very least, it could take them three days to a week to get there even with our tech. Secondly, when they do get there, what'll they find? If this signal actually does have anything to do with the Messianic case, they could link all the way back to us and it's 'by-bye' to you, your workers, and your inventions."
Damn you, O'Donnell! Yaru mentally cursed, Since when did you become smart?
"On a seperate note, sir," Wolf proposed, "you're also not seeing a profitable outcome here."
"Huh?" Yaru said, as his ears drooped in confusion, "What do you mean, O'Donnell?"
A small grin formed on the canine's muzzle as he quietly thought to himself: Now I gotcha hooked.
Wolf began to type with enthusiasm once the communication channel ended. The canine quickly reached for his phone and dialled in it.
"Yes sir?" the familiar voice of the dog which had informed him answered.
"Listen..." Wolf began, and paused, "Sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"David," the dog's voice replied, "You need me again?"
"Yes, David, I do," Wolf answered, "I need you to look for the closest crew available and who's capable of performing a search-and-rescue; we're going to find the poor sod who wound up there ourselves."
"Right away sir," David responded, and quickly got to work.
Wolf watched as his monitor flickered alive and displayed a gridded map of the known universes. Slowly, a shape that appeared like a sniper scope moved around and scanned every possible outlet.
"Let's see..." David's voice uttered, "The closest to fit your description is a cargo shuttle in Sector Y, has an experienced crew of four, is fast, and has the equipment needed for an in-and-out mission."
"Hm..." Wolf uttered, as he pondered, "What's the ETA?"
"Uhm... A couple of days," David answered.
"Well, they're a back up if we absolutely need to use them," Wolf said, "Are you certain there's no other available option closer to the system?"
"Well..." David started to say, and scanned for any other options, "There is one spacecraft currently passing through it-"
"By the stars, why didn't you mention that first?" Wolf remarked, "Let's use that one if they're capable of it."
"But sir," David retorted, "That's the issue; it's not available to us. It belongs to Corneria Precious Metals Ltd."
"I see..." Wolf muttered, and silently thought to himself, "Tell you what, forward the file on that vessel, it's info, crew history, that kind of jazz, and you contact the company to see if they'd be willing to aid us in this issue. If they argue with you, let them know it's under law that any nearby crew capable of rescuing is contracted to do so. If they continue to argue with you, send them my way."
"Yes sir," David answered, "I've sent the info on the vessel to you sir."
Wolf watched his monitor as the grid map dissolved into the image of a M-Class Lockmart CM 88B Bison starfreighter. Below the image of the titanic-sized vessel, text started to appear.
As Wolf skimmed through the text, an odd shape formed at the end. A scowl formed on his muzzle once he looked at it. It was a symbol he knew all too well. It was a silhouette of a feral fox seemingly in the middle of a running stance with angel-like wings sprouting from its back.
"S-sir?" David's voice said, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine..." Wolf responded, "Just contact the company, I'm sure they'll agree that their crew is capable of doing a rescue mission."
He hung up the phone and continued to glare at his monitor. Slowly, he typed into it and began to scroll through the crew log.
Wolf chuckled to himself as he read through the logs.
Oh, Fox, my old friend, he mentally remarked, seems like I'm not the only one to fall on hard times. My stars, where have those days gone? It's such a tragedy how one moment you can be on top of it all and the next you're stuck in a simple job.
As the log ended, the canine scanned the other options which had been offered. One of which caught his curiosity: THE EVENTS LEADING UP TO THE MISSION. Wolf mused himself with the thought.
Yeah, how come you've stooped to being a cargo runner, Fox? he pondered, and selected the option, What is it that happened to make you do this job?
"What?!" Fox exclaimed in shock, as his ears drooped with confused anger.
"I'm sorry, sir," the CPM worker replied, his expression a bit startled at the pilot's actions, "B-but the rules were clear; no youth can partake in these kinds of journeys."
"Mama?" a blue furred fox kit whimpered, as he clung to the covered healthy-sized thigh of a taller blue vixen.
Krystal, dressed in a greyish-green company-issued coverall and with a white undershirt, averted her attention from the two bickering men down toward her son. Her ears drooped sympathetically at the fright that filled his eyes. The vixen knelt down and swooped the young tod up in her arms while he flung his around her neck. As she began to get back up, Krystal placed a finger to the kit's lips gently. The vixen's ears twitched and her bushy tail swayed as the markings on her body illuminated softly. Slowly, Krystal seeped her way into her child's mind and began to telepathically speak into it.
Sh, Marcus, it's alright, her voice echoed in the kit's mind, soothingly, There's nothing to be afraid about."
Why is dad angry? Marcus thought in response, while his small bushy tail wrapped around the vixen's arm.
It's... complicated, son, Krystal struggled to explain, Father thought he could do something he couldn't and is now upset about it.
"I recall reading that the voyage would take up to ten months to get to Thedus, two months to load up, and another ten back," Fox fumed, and swayed his tail in agitation, "You do the math pal, we'd be missing..." He paused, caressed his chin in thought, before he finished thinking and snapped back: "About a year and five-sixths of being in his life!"
"I-I-I'm sorry, once more, sir," the feline Cornerian replied sympathetically, and clutched the digital glass clipboard like a shield, "I mean, I would want to help you sir, since you've done so much for this planet already, b-but you must be able to see the logic behind it; usually the young are inexperienced and can't be put through the harsh training till their teenage years. We'd be risking his life if we just sent him with you."
Damn this company and their rules! Fox thought to himself, and strutted around the bridge of the vessel; the metal beneath his shoe-covered, paw-like feet -which was unusual for the legendary vulpine to be in anything out of his metallic boots.
"If... you're really fixed on arguing about the matter," the feline intruded the captain's silent thinking, "I can get you in touch with an administrator."
"I..." Fox began, sighed and started to continue as he looked in his family's direction, "I don't know, what do you think Krystal?"
Sadly to Fox's disappointment, his spouse was nowhere to be seen.
During the heated debate, Krystal decided to exit the bridge of the Clandestino and strolled down the white, cushion like corridor till she approached the the bulkhead door, which had a thick trapezoid glass window in the top centre, and reached above it to push the colour-coded button-switch which hung over the frame. The door slid open in an upward motion as a soft decompressing hiss followed.
In the centre of the mess room, was a circular table with cushioned-booths fit for the whole crew. The pure-white metal floors gave off a kinda roomy feel. Just above the table, a set of comm-links hung from the ceiling. Just to the right (That was from the fox's point of view) of the table was a bar counter that extended from the wall with another counter built into the wall just adjacent to the first with cabinets. Toward the left, not far from the other corridor that stood just opposite of the one the vulpines had walked out of, was a lounge space.
Krystal's vision, however, fell upon the familiar Leporidae who sat alone to himself, a coffee mug in hand. Peppy had been quietly contemplating while he watched the two drinking ducks on the table occasionally tip over before getting back up. His train of thought, however, was broken by the muffled shouts that escaped from the bridge's direction. So it was no surprise to him when the vixen emerged carrying her frightened child in her arms.
"I'd inquire if everything's alright," the elder rabbit began, "But I'd be stupid to do so."
Krystal offered a mumble in response as she gently put Marcus down onto one of the booths; the kit slowly unwinding himself off his mother and gazing curiously toward the drinking ducks. The vixen chuckled at her son's childish behaviour as she moved around to Peppy's side.
"What's the problem?" he asked, while taking a sip from the mug full of water.
"It's... complicated," Krystal answered, and subtly tapped her brain as if she was thinking.
"I'd prefer talking verbally," Peppy responded to her hint, "If the issue is what I think it is, then there's no need in hiding it."
Krystal sighed, and looked back to her son who was now tinkering with the objects that had plucked at his curiosity, before she answered: "Marcus can't come with us."
"Figured," Peppy replied nonchalantly, "They made it clear in their manual of their terms about children..." He turned toward her with curiosity. "How come Fox didn't know?"
"He did," Krystal said, and crossed her arms with a swish of her tail, "I told him about it a month ago and he said he'd figure something out. Must have slipped his mind... Or perhaps he didn't want to hear it."
"You can't really blame him," the rabbit defended, "Past few months have probably been his most stressful. Losing The Great Fox, having to find a way to provide for you two; he's basically flooded with fear."
"I don't understand," Krystal remarked, and shook her head, "He's done so much heroic deeds, how can they repay him like this?"
"Business," Peppy replied, "Or maybe something else, I don't know... Sometimes people only care about you when you mean something of use to them, eventually when that use is gone they'll forget it like it never mattered... Things and people change 'cause they're never satisfied with what they have..."
"And we don't?" the vixen inquired, with tilted ears.
"Eh, depends; not all change means progress, Krystal," Peppy shrugged, and sat silently watching the young tod, "You want me to see if Lucy can take care of him during the voyage?"
"No, thank you though," Krystal answered, and twirled a finger through her hair, "I'll take care of him."
"Eh?" the rabbit said, and lifted his ears in confusion, "How do ya plan on pullin' that off?"
"Parental leave," the vixen replied nonchalantly, "and if they won't let me then I'll sue them."
"I don't think you fully understand how the legal system works," Peppy retorted.
"Whatever, I'll figure it out if I must," Krystal shrugged, and folded her arms.
"With an attitude like that you won't," Peppy sighed.
" ALL PERSONNEL REPORT TO THE MESS HALL ON A DECK. REPEAT: ALL PERSONNEL REPORT TO THE MESS HALL," the robotic feminine voice ordered over the ship's intercom.
"And what could that be?" Krystal rhetorically asked, annoyed.
Slowly, one-by-one the crew began to find their way to the mess hall. The last to join was the CMP worker and Fox, the two clearly had some kind of news to share.
"Well..." the feline began, as he checked his digital clipboard one last time, "It appears that your science officer has fallen ill."
"You just had to say those words, didn't you, Slip?" Falco whispered under his breath.
"I-I was just joking," the amphibian defended, "I seriously thought it couldn't get w- Ow!"
Katt retracted her arm which she had used to whack the back of Slippy's head with. Falco offered a grunt in response and averted his gaze anywhere away from the cat.
"Knock it off the lot of you," Fox ordered impatiently, as he nodded toward the worker.
"Thank you," the feline said, "In other words, today's launch is to be postponed until we can find a decent replacement as quickly as possible."
"In the simplest of words, we're free to head back home for now," Fox surmised, "Just a word of advice, don't go too far; we might be able to find a replacement this very night."
"Fine by me," Peppy replied, "I forgot to tie up some loose ends just in case anyhow."
The other three members didn't share the same energy as the rabbit, but nonetheless did not entirely hate the opportunity of enjoying one more day on their home planet. As the crew cleared out, Krystal once more swooped Marcus up in her arms but remained patiently for her spouse. Fox wearily glanced over in the vixen's direction, caught onto her thoughts, and sighed: "I'm not coming home right now."
"Why not?" she asked.
"Gotta help see who's the best pick for the voyage," he answered, and slowly drew near them as he added: "And also see if I can find a way to bring our little runt here with us."
"Hey!" Marcus chuckled, and lightly whacked his father's snout saying: "If I'm a runt that means I got it from you."
Krystal giggled at the kit's witty insult but lost her smile when the older tod only emitted a soft, suppressed laugh. Fox only gently patted his son's head in response while he gave a tired glance at his wife.
"I'll see you two at home," he uttered, and waved as he turned to talk to the employee, "Safe travels home."
Krystal waved back helplessly; she wanted to help her spouse badly but it has always been a challenge since the tod had stopped opening up with her after he had lost his command ship.
The trip back was calm, but uneasy. Since the Vulpine family had intended to depart together that evening, they'd left their family house with someone else who was trustworthy enough to look after it, leaving them without anywhere to really go. Krystal, however, was not one to give up so easily and quickly sought out a solution which turned out to be a condo for rent at an expensive but reasonable price. The vixen, mentally exhausted and winded after trying to do so much, collapsed onto the rough but still comfy sofa in the main space of the condo.
"Marcus..." she yawned, as the kit snuggled up once more into her embrace, "We've been over this... So m-many times... You're almost ten now, you need to start sleeping on your own."
"But, mom..." Marcus pleaded, and curled his tail around him defence fully, "W-what about the monsters?"
"Huh?" the vixen said, "Who's been messing with your mind about such silly things."
"Uhm..." the kit stuttered, as if he had just said the most horrible thing ever, "I-I swore I wouldn't tell..."
"Okay, now this is serious," Krystal exclaimed, sat up, and glared at her son with great concern as she repeated: "Who told you not to tell anyone anything? And it'd be best to not lie, Marcus, you know that if I really wanted to I could pry into your mind for the answer."
"Eep!" Marcus whimpered, as he wagged his tail with great fear, "It was daddy, okay?! Please, please don't tell him I told you, please mommy?"
Ex mo jkuhj, the vixen mentally remarked, and shook her head disapprovingly before she answered her son in a more cheerful expression: "Don't worry, he won't ever know. You know a wise person once said the monsters are in your own head."
"R-really?" the kit questioned, "Who said that?"
"Your..." Krystal began, but paused as her expression became reminiscent of a lost past, "Your grandmother... My mother..."
"She must be very smart then if she's your mother," Marcus commented cheerfully.
"She was..." Krystal agreed, with a soft smirk, "She really was."
Not much happened after that. The two eventually became tired once again and fell back to sleep on sofa. By the time the sun began to set the two had been well rested. Even then, the two foxes did not feel hungry and tried to find a means to entertain themselves. The two determined that perhaps a magic show would be interesting. Krystal stalked through her memories to see what spells were at her disposal. One quickly came to mind and in a matter of no time, Marcus was treated with what appeared to be a whole solar system in the palms of his mother's hands. Eventually, hunger caught up to them and the two vulpines were forced to think once more of a means of satisfaction.
That means came in the form of simple microwaveable cups of Macaroni and cheese, which was not a preferable dish, but would work for the evening. Their bellies full and their minds tired, the foxes simply sat at the table without much to do.
"I think..." Krystal stated, as she stretched her arms widely, "it ought to be a good time to lie down."
"Yeah," Marcus yawned in agreement, as he rested his head in his arms.
A knock at the condo's door interrupted their quiet time together. With a weary and agitated groan, the vixen shoved herself off her seat and approached the door groggily. Waiting behind it stood her spouse, looking no more tired than herself. Fox walked in, and upon noticing his wife's weariness, lifted her off her feet and carried her bridal style back into the living space. Once they were all seated, the family discussion began.
"How'd it go?" Krystal asked, and swayed her tail with weak interest.
"Egh..." Fox answered, and ran his fingers through his hair, "Found someone who seemed good enough to be a replacement..."
"And what about?" Krystal inquired, as she eyed Marcus.
"...Nothing," he answered, and drooped his ears helplessly, "Their word's final, no exceptions." Fox cupped his hands around his muzzle and sighed: "You know... Mother always did say that good people always suffer the worst of it... This is how the world treats its heroes huh?"
Fox rubbed his eyes and tilted his head slightly only to see his son act similarly. He watched the young tod intently, slowly clasped his hands together and set them on the table as if he had a business proposition. Marcus did likewise. A small smirk started to form on Fox's muzzle as he slowly began to lean toward the kit. Marcus, still trying to mimic his father's movements, leaned forward till his snout met his father's. Fox chuckled and extended his hand to-
Wolf paused the log's recounting as he read the last bit.
I don't know why they thought accounting all their actions, the canid scoffed, The very least, I'd say it'd be stalking.
He continued to scroll through the log rapidly, skipping over the little bits and details until he reached the section which accounted the day of the vessel's launch. But before he could begin reading, Wolf's receiver buzzed while its red light flashed. The canine muttered a curse before he picked the phone up.
"Sir?" David's voice greeted the wolf's ears, "You there?"
"Yeah, yeah," Wolf answered, "How'd it go with you?"
"They agreed to participate in this deed," the dog answered, "but under the condition that should anything happen, we were to take full responsibility, and-"
"I got it, I got it," Wolf cut off, "Did they give you the accessibility to the control panel?"
"Yes, they did," David answered, "But I really think we ought to-"
"Take it up with the pres," the canine uttered, "Just forward the access to me; no further discussion, Davey boy."
Wolf hung the phone up quickly and once more sat patiently until his monitor disintegrated toward a login screen.
Well, Fox, old friend, Wolf chuckled to himself, your playtimes up, and the serious work begins. But hey, don't get upset with me for disturbing your beauty sleep, not like I could hear your scream anyhow. 'Cause in space, no one can hear you scream!
Upon mentally hearing his voice utter the last sentence, O'Donnell began to cackle out loud before he caught his breath again and started to type up a new order.