A Trifecta Of Hate
"Hey…DUSTY, better hurry up! Don't want to be late again!"
Rusty Sharana sprinted through the hallways of the Cornerian Military Academy. Boxing class had gone long today and the poor akita was forced to skip the after-shower, throw on his cadet uniform and race for his last class like a man possessed.
He did his best to ignore the taunts and jeers of the cadets around him. While a certain amount of hazing was to be expected as a first-year, the canine quickly figured out he'd been selected for 'special treatment' by the majority of the student body. Taboos and prejudices were alive and well in the Cornerian Metropole, or the 'Center' as it was colloquially known. The denizens of Lylat's upper-crust sneered down their noses at 'Spacers', those who for one reason or another, chose to make their home in the void. They derided the 'Colonists' who lived outside the Center, beyond the orbital gates. But worst of all, they were unaccepting (some would say rabidly so) towards the hybrid offspring of two different species. While technically there were no de-jure laws persecuting the so-called 'hybes', it was clear that cultural inertia was against them. An ancient legacy of the old nobility's desire to maintain their bloodline: hybes were the new mutts.
To be a 'spacer' was to be an outsider. To be called 'colonist': a rube. To be a 'hybe': a freak. All three…well…that was to be poor Rusty. The only one at the Academy and likely all of Corneria City."
From a distance he could pass as purebred: a standard akita with his mom's golden-brown fur. But if one looked closer they would see that he had his father's traits mixed in. His tail wasn't thin and rolled like his mother's: it was a fluffy tail that belonged on a fox. Black fur capped his paws, giving him the appearance of always wearing 'gloves' and 'socks'. Most striking of all were his purple eyes. A mixture of his mothers red and fathers frosty blue.
The 19-year-old akita was mere meters away from his classroom door…when down he went. Tripped by an unseen cadet who quickly melted away into the crowd. Rusty scrambled to scoop his papers and books together, the bell only seconds away. No sooner had he stood up when it rang. Hanging his head in resignation, the defeated dog trudged into Colonel Mirov's beginner's tactics class.
"Late again, cadet?!" The officer sternly remarked, recording the demerit in his notebook. "Report for walking tours this afternoon, now take your seat! You're hold'n up my class!"
Rusty trudged to his desk with his tail between his legs. For the next hour and a half the instructor would drone on about tanks, flanks and ranks…but poor Rusty's was completely zoned out, struggling to maintain what little sanity he had left. He'd only been at the Academy for 3 months, yet it felt like an eternity.
The bell rang and Rusty quickly sprinted to his barracks room to gather the instruments of his punishment. Walking tours required a cadet to wear their dress uniform, shoulder their parade rifle, and 'walk off' their punishment by repeatedly pacing the hundred yards in the Academy's central area. It was 2 hours for being late to a class. If he was late for walking tours…his punishment would be doubled.
Rusty quickly checked in with the presiding officer, joining the depressed ranks of other unfortunates and began his punishment with the group.
Back and forth, back and forth. While other cadets were thinking about grades, getting drunk in town or their weekend plans. Rusty's mind remained focused on the hell he found himself in.
Two hours later, the sore akita stumbled back to his barracks room. When grabbing his dress uniform and rifle, his room had been immaculate. But now, it looked as though a tornado had spontaneously appeared in his dwelling. He was greeted by the sight of his roommate Sal, cleaning up the mess.
"Another inspection" the saltwater crocodile said, trying to put their clothes back into drawers. "Those blokes never get tired, do they?" he finished with a grim chuckle.
For the third time that day, Rusty wanted to scream. Standing in the doorway, he struggled to hold in the tears. Sal looked up again, seeing his battle buddy like this the comforting croc swifty went to his friend's aide.
"Rusty, keep it together mate." Sal said, pulling the akita inside and shutting the door. The last thing they needed was an upperclassman to come by and give them more shit.
"I can't Sal…I just can't," Rusty replied, tears starting to run down his face.
"Aww, no need for that mate." Sal said, pulling akita into a hug. The giant reptile's arms easily wrapped around the smaller canine. "We won't be here forever, just keep your chin up."
Sal was one of the few creatures at the Academy who could actually empathize with Rusty. Two generations ago, his family had fought on the losing side of the Lylat civil wars. Although that was more than 50 years ago, to most of the other cadets the croc may as well have had Andross' A tattooed on his chest. Sal had accepted an Academy slot at the personal request of the Venomian Premier. He was told it'd help bridge their two worlds, yet it was only after coming to this God-forsaken city, Sal realized the true width of the chasm. The croc was no quitter, he'd see this through, but he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't feel tricked.
"We'll get through this Rusty, we just gotta play the game."
"I'm through playing!" the akita snarled, his voice muffled by the large reptile's frame. For weeks now he'd been put through the ringer: spat on during formations, made to do repetitions until he collapsed during group exercise, even assaulted by groups of anonymous cadets whenever he left the sight of the school staff. The akita had reached his breaking point.
"Why don't you give your family a ring?" Sal said, giving Rusty one final hug before letting go. "It's been a while ain't it?"
"Yeah, reckon it has…."
"I'll finish up here mate, just give'm a ring." Rusty tried to protest but the reptile remained firm.
"I got it mate! You had to walk tours today, just go call the folks."
10 minutes later saw Rusty in a telebooth in the barracks basement. A small enclosure that allowed cadets to keep in touch with family. A quick 28 code dial and the line was soon ringing.
"CONNECTION ESTABLISHED, LINE SECURED!" the monotone voice of the machine said. The akita heard the voice of his father soon after, a hologram of the arctic fox morphing into view..
"Rusty? How are ya m'boy?"
"Like Shite Dad!" Rusty bluntly said.
"Is military food as bad as they say?" Blizzard Sharana quipped, trying to lighten his son's mood. "What's wrong?"
"EVERYTHING!" the akita shouted at the snow fox. "These fookers hate me Dad. I can't take a piss without someone writing me up. I wanna come home."
"Now now" his father sternly said. "I need you to stay strong boy. Hold the course! I sent you there for a myriad of reasons, but chief among them was to toughen you up."
"I wanna come home Dad! These people, I…I can't take it anymore."
"Rusty! The Center is full of silver-spooned degenerates, I'll be the first to admit that, but count your blessings. You've got 3 hot meals a day, a warm bed to sleep in and more money than any of those other little bastards. Do I need to up your allowance, boy? Is it not enough?"
"It's not about the money Dad." Rusty dejectedly said, trying to make his father understand. "I'm here at the Academy, but I'm just a stranger in a strange land. I'm in their club, but they'll never make me a member."
Those words caused Rusty's father to squint his eyes in disapproval. By disrespecting his son, they were disrespecting HIM by proxy. Perhaps it was necessary to teach them all a lesson in perspective, his son included.
"Rusty, tell me who's hassling you, I'll take care of it."
"It's ALL of them Dad! I've got Sal here, and a few others…but it's like the entire Corps of Cadets wants me dead!"
"Just give me a name, boy!" His father snapped, impatiently.
"...Tom. Sal told me he tossed our room today for an inspection."
"What's his full name?"
"Thomas Clark, a gray bulldog."
"Good! I'll handle it. We love you Rusty and everyone back here is very proud of you, just hang on." His father finished, the old fox's hologram disappearing, leaving the teen alone in the booth. Only slightly reassured, Rusty quickly left for his room to help Sal with the mess.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A quintillion miles away from Corneria City, Rusty's father clenched his paws and wiped the call off his tablet's virtual interface. Frustrated, he weighed his options…none of them were good.
Blizzard Sharana poured himself a stiff drink from the antique globe liquor cabinet. He needed something harsher than brandy tonight. Before he'd even taken a sip, his wife strolled into his study, having overheard the entire conversation.
"I told you this was a shite idea! I can't believe I let you ship my pups off to the Center!" the female akita snarled at her husband. Her eyes soon wandered to his glass holding her preferred amber liquid; stronger than anything he normally took. It was then she knew Blizz was scared.
"We need him there Béa." Blizzard calmly said, though his expression revealed his unease. "Everything we've worked for, all the sacrifices we've made, the people we've lost…Rusty's graduation is the next step."
"...well I don't like it!" Béa growled in frustration. Despite her bluster, Blizzard could see that she was barely holding back tears herself and he quickly pulled his wife into a comforting hug. Family was everything to the Sharana Clan, and the thought of their child's suffering was nigh unbearable.
"One day…one day when this is all over, I'll beg his forgiveness for putting him through this." Blizzard whispered into his wife's ear, his voice cracking. "Our little boy, our flesh and blood, forgive your father for forcing you to endure…"
XXXXXXXXXXX
The next day saw Rusty and Sal up at the crack of dawn, both cadets soon moving outside for morning formation. Expecting straight lines and silence as the roll calls were collected, they were surprised to see everyone milling about and chattering. The akita quickly caught snippets of the conversation around him.
"Did you hear about Clark?"
"Guy had it coming"
"Is it true what happened…?"
"I always knew he had issues!"
Rusty asked a squadmate what the fuss was about, and was shocked at the doberman's answer.
"It's Tommy Clark! They found him this morning out in the city overdosed on crank!"
"WHAT?!" Rusty shouted, his eyes doubling in size. The info sent the akita's mind racing. Was it an accident? Did his father do this? Was Rusty the cause?
"Yeah, the commandant is cancelling classes today so we can mourn. I always thought Clark was useless, but I gotta say, him shooting-up was the best thing he ever did! Now I have another day to study for the exams. Thanks Tommy!" The doberman finished with a laugh.
Rusty walked around, trying to fish for more info but getting nothing new. Morbidly enough, it seemed everyone else was just as pleased with the situation: Tommy's death was a tragedy…but the day off was a gift from God. Many cadets were already making plans to head into town and get drunk during the school day. A toast of thanks for Tom Clark.
'Is this how Centers are?' Rusty thought, disturbed at the festive atmosphere around him. 'The elite of Lylat…cheering the death of one of their own…?' He was pulled out of his stupor by Sal, the reptile bringing him to his senses.
"Come on mate, let's get outta here before someone decides we need another room inspection." The croc said, gently guiding Rusty back to the barracks.
For the next 12 hours, Rusty did his best to continue his studies. Prepping for a math exam, outlining a history paper, and exercising for next week's PT test. Yet throughout it all, the akita couldn't get his mind off last night's conversation with his father. At 2100, he returned to the basement booth to get his answer.
"Ahhh, Rusty. What a surprise!" His father's hologram said. "What can I do for you?"
"What did you do to Tom Clark?" Rusty bluntly asked, his face betraying no emotion.
"Hmmm…Tom Clark?" Blizzard said, bringing a paw to his chin in contemplation. "Doesn't ring a bell. Is he a friend of yours?"
"You're a shite liar Dad!" Rusty shot back. "Mom taught me to smell BS from a mile away. You could never fool her and you can't fool me!"
Blizzard's warm smile instantly turned cold, a scowl darkening his face.
"Dad…what did you DO?!"
"What ANY good father would do!" the snow fox shot back. "I did a favor for my son when he asked for help."
"You fookin killed him?!" Rusty exploded in the soundproof booth. "I DIDN'T WANT HIM TO DIE!"
"YES YOU DID!" Blizzard erupted before quickly regaining control. "I heard it in your voice. You wanted him dead as doornail! You're a gentle boy Rusty, always were. But it's time to grow up and see the world for what it is. I'm talking about PERSPECTIVE here Rusty. Yesterday, you were feeling sorry for yourself, and that fool Clark getting his kicks at your expense. Well…where are you both NOW!? He's dead and you're not!" Blizzard finished with the snap of his fingers.
"How could you do that!"
"YOU MADE IT HAPPEN!" Blizzard shot back, silencing his son. "The SECOND you asked for my help, you took the power of action OUT of your hands and placed it in MINE. Take this as a lesson, Rusty! I'd kill everyone in the Center if it made my boy's life easier. If you don't like how I take care of business, then that's on YOU. If you want my help, you got it…MY WAY! If you want something done your way…well, then it's time to grow up! Do you know what Clark did when my men picked him up? He pissed his fucking pants! Is this who you're afraid of boy, Center preppies with no balls?! If these Academy clowns have you so worked up, what are you gonna do when you face a REAL threat? Someone who hasn't spent their life deepthroating a silver spoon!"
Seeing Rusty's eyes start to water, the snow fox immediately softened his tone.
"Son, I'm only tough on you because I want you to be strong. I'm guessing you saw the reactions of most of your classmates today…?" seeing the teen akita nod, his father continued. "The galaxy is full of people who wouldn't give two shits if you died! You saw it today, even people you think are friends would cheer for you to fail. I won't always be here to keep you safe son. One day…one day I'll be gone, and Gods-willing, you'll have your own family to protect. I know this is a tough lesson…probably the toughest you've ever had…but learn it and learn it well. I love you Rusty."
With that, the old snow fox terminated the call, leaving his son in the silent telebooth, reflecting on the day's lesson.
Author's Notes: Well I hope that wasn't too depressing. Rusty is at rock bottom here, but the good news for him is that the only place to go now is up! Hope you enjoyed it and hope to see you at the end of the ride. Don't forget to leave a review, constructive criticism is always appreciated!