Mellow Walrus Posted May 6, 2012 Share Posted May 6, 2012 Either the government wanted to prepare the students for chaos on the battlefield, or the mess hall operated just like a typical high school cafeteria. At the very least, everyone was neatly aligned in their seats, with a reasonable amount of space to wade through. If one relied on ears to lead the way however, they’d be lost at sea among the clamor that ran across the commons area. This sea managed to drown out the private conversations among Fox McCloud’s circle of friends, currently on the subject of a mother ship under construction for Team Starfox. Slippy Toad took a few bites out of his sloppy joe between his lectures on the technology. “The G-Diffusers, they work with the Great Fox too. Like, you just need to hook up some cables to the Arwing, whenever they’re all parked in the docking bay. They’ll be like an extra source of energy.†“They double as generators, don’t they?†Fox asked, and Slippy nodded. “What kind of things do they charge? Can they keep even a Private Dreadnought afloat on their own?†Bill grunted. “What, the four pointy blue things on the Arwings? Come on man, that’d be like a pack of batteries for a huge thing like the Great Fox.†“No, no. It’s not like that, Bill.†Slippy said, glaring at Bill a little. “Not as a backup for fuel tank ruptures or anything, but they can go to the artillery. Those plasma cannons could be devastating with the help of three Arwings backing it up.†“Four,†Fox corrected, “. . . Or, well, three and a half. They’re building up another one. You know, since I’ll join up in the team once I’m done with this place.†The bulldog rolled his eyes. “Lucky! Being a merc would be cool. I’ve gotta go to a lame fort back home in Katina.†“I’d tell you to go for it, but I don’t want too much competition.†A few chuckles spread through the table. “I mean, it’d be great to have you on the team. Just that you’re not all on my dad’s good side, you know?†“Yeah, yeah.†Bill muttered, propping his sagging expression up with a paw. “Why don’cha fly solo? You know, without clinging around your dad twenty-four seven. Nobody hires guns that still live with their pa.†Fox exhaled a shallow groan, while Slippy Toad gave an uncomfortable stare to Bill, prompting him to sigh. “Alright, alright. But I mean, come on. Not really good marketing, in’nit?†“Well, I guess not. I’m just joining up to get a piece of experience though. Like an apprentice, or something. I just gotta catch the drift of the merc work before I head out on my own.†Bill chuckled. “Then tell them that, man. Doesn’t sound so yellow that way. So what kinda drift are you talking about, in that business there?†Fox shrugged. “You know, the gritty shit the higher ups don’t want us to see. The moves and stuff that they don’t teach here, and you know, actually thinking without an annoying guy barking out orders.†“Sounds pretty fine right there. But why wait around this place and learn what these guys want you to learn? It’s not like you need a diploma for that kinda work.†“Well. . . I don’t know. Better safe than sorry I guess. I’ll just see if any of the stuff taught here could get put to use, in the stuff I’ll be doing.†“Meh, that depends on how lousy the school will be.†Bill muttered, “They just cram shit in our heads to keep us quiet for the years we’re in here.†“Eh, maybe, but you only die once in the battlefield. Dying of boredom here is cheaper than that.†“Pen’s mightier than the sword.†Slippy chirped in, with his face halfway stuffed. “Eh. . .†Fox murmured, scratching the back of his ears. “Well, I guess that’s not too far off, just not what I was going for. I was thinking of going with stuff like all those safety precautions they preach about here. Just in case stuff gets rough.†“Oh. Gotcha.†Slippy said, grimacing. “I thought. . . uh, you know. Like how-“ Fox laughed and shook his head. “I’ve got the picture, no worries. I guess I better start learning how to joust with the pen too. I’m not going to live too long if I’m just charging headfirst thrusting my sword.†Bill snorted. “Fuck man, you guys should be teachers, screw being a merc, and. . . doing science, or something.†He said, cocking an eyebrow at Slippy. “Hell, you guys would be kind of fun to listen to up on the podium. Sounds like your lecturin’ kind of makes sense.†“Only gonna do that after I retire,†Fox said with a grin, and leaned back in his stool. “I have to wait until I’ve got enough war stories to share. I’ve got to make sure my students know they’ll never accomplish more than me.†The other two chuckled, until the words sunk into Slippy’s brain. “Oh yeah . . . war stories, huh.†Slippy echoed, fidgeting the words out from his lips. “I heard Andross’s goons are having a few skirmishes around Katina, Bill.†Bill Grey rolled his eyes. “Fucking apes aren’t touching my land. Enon’s my dump of a home; it’s worth sitting around in a fort with my thumb up my ass. They ain’t stepping foot on it no time soon.†After the surge of patriotism stopped flowing through his veins, he sighed and looked to Fox. “Your pa’s been taking out those Venomians lately, huh?†He nodded. “Yeah, General Pepper’s been contracting the team personally. Dad’s getting a lot closer to skinning Andross than most other hired guns out there. He’s doing a little recon in Area 6 now, last time I’ve heard.†“Oh yeah? What have you heard about the place?†“I don’t know, he just got sent there the other day. There’s no factory around the place or anything, but they’re starting to position a small armada in the-†Fox immediately clamped his muzzle shut when he spotted the academy’s superintendent started walking through the grounds, which silenced many of the other students as well once they caught sight of the burly husky marching forward. Fox’s circle of pals ducked their heads a little to see if they could keep out of the man’s eye, but it still looked like he was coming straight to them. That assumption was proven true when he stopped right in front of their tables. Bill jumped into the situation first. “S-sir? Is there . . . a problem?†The executive ignored Bill’s forced leap of bravery and looked directly towards Fox. “Follow me, McCloud.†The imposing figure said with a solemn tone. “A package arrived in the front office, for you.†After a short trek through the grounds of the complex, the young cadet and his superior arrived in front of room A113. The class belonged to Mr. Bradley, the bird who taught Animatronics I, a popular elective around the campus. Bill just preferred to call it ‘The incredible, iron giant things class’ which neatly summed up his grades in there. “. . . Huh? Mr. Brad’s room? I uh, I don’t even take his class. . .†Fox stuttered out, squirming under his uniform. The man just shook his head. “No. This isn’t concerned with Mr. Bradley. He’s taking a break right now and I needed a private place for you.†He then took the package and plopped it into Fox’s hands, who accepted the box into his grasp. “You have the whole room to yourself if you need it. After that, I strongly urge you to leave the campus. The rest of your classes for the day will be excusing your absence.†He gave the vulpine boy an awkward pat on the shoulder which made him pull an eyebrow of suspicion and a shiver of anxiety. “. . . And open this up in there?†The man paused for a moment and clenched his fist. “Fox, Venom just declared war on us. You have one week for lament, only one week. So yes, open it.†He growled out, and marched back down the hall. The vulpine boy stood agape, and eventually entered through the door while feeling sweat break loose from his forehead. It felt a bit too eerie in the vacant room, which was made more unsettling by the colossal automatons that glared at the confused intruder from all angles of the room. With the flip of a switch, a ray of light made the hulking silhouettes less intimidating, but there was still the matter of the mysterious package to worry over. Judging by the knot in his stomach, this would probably be a situation that’d be best experienced sitting down, so he found a table that was occupied by what looked to be part robot, part bat. The gothic themed contraption was well past his worries right now, so he laid the package in front of him and stared at it for a few seconds, half expecting it to explode. While studying it, he realized the return address showed that the mail arrived from a hospital somewhere on the planet Zoness. Fox gulped, took a deep breath, and opened the package with caution and saw a note signed by Peppy. He cringed and brushed past the note to dig deeper. Inside was a pair of cracked sunglasses and a yellow neckerchief dotted with dry blood. Fox never heard from his dad again. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TCPeppyTc Posted May 6, 2012 Share Posted May 6, 2012 Love it! Simply to die for the entire story! Characterizaiton great, writing great.... Cant wait to see the next chapter. Also love that you arent making some crazy original character Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mellow Walrus Posted May 6, 2012 Author Share Posted May 6, 2012 Thanks, those are great words for an aspiring writer to hear! (Of course, we also want criticism too, so long as someone's reading at all we'll be happy ) I've already finished the first chapter, this is just the first scene out of three. There's a few changes I want to make to the next scene coming up though, but I'll try to have it ready within a few days or so. The Hot Rodders are gonna make an appearance :cool: Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
sroberson Posted May 6, 2012 Share Posted May 6, 2012 Very nice! Always happy to read fanfic posted on the website. I tried to picking up writing StarFox fanfic as well, but I feel I failed to give it much personality (and according to another review) - something which you did a much better job on. Look forward to reading more! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
chaos_Leader Posted May 8, 2012 Share Posted May 8, 2012 Not bad. There's good stuff in there, and I especially like what you did with that final scene. If you'll bear with me and put up with my slightly obsessive-compulsive con-crit habits for a few moments, I have a couple things. The initial scene feels a little expository. I know it's an instance of the characters talking, and "as you know, Bob" scene, but it feels to me a bit tacked-on. So they're in the academy cafeteria/mess: what are they thinking about? What are their immediate concerns? Are they thinking about their future? How often do you randomly riff about your future plans, particularly at the age of ~16? It's alright what you have there, it fits the bill and fills in the holes; I'm simply suggesting you consider what the audience might like to see: that maybe Fox and friends do have goals and ambitions within the context of the academy, like some project, rather than reiterating what we pretty much already know. And while you have the audience there, that's a prime location to show some character; that is, focusing less on what is being said, and emphasizing instead how it is said; clue the audience in a little on the principal character's thought process. Keep up the work! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TCPeppyTc Posted May 8, 2012 Share Posted May 8, 2012 One quick criticism. It seems slightly creepy to have James' bloody remains deliverd in an envelope to his son. It seems more the type of thing a serial killer would mail his crush, than an official policy of disposal at a hospital. Also, " Fox never heard from his Dad again." That just doesnt quite sound right. We know his dad is dead. If you said something along the lines of " Fox knew he would never see his father again" or something to that effect might make a little more sense. I trust this story will be somewhat "angsty" with Fox coming to terms with his Dad's death? No problem if it is, though I would advise you to make it more than just that. Like there should be some external conflict as opposed to just Fox's internal anguish and grief. For example, perhaps Fox could grieve for a while, but then forumulate a plan to form his team, and convince Peppy to take him? just a suggestion though. Carry on as you will and I will give you criticism/ advice where I see fit. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mellow Walrus Posted May 8, 2012 Author Share Posted May 8, 2012 @chaos_Leader Heh, good point. Whenever I get to the rewrite, I'm gonna have Bill try to convince Fox to throw a party in the Great Fox once the construction work on it is done. That'd make one radically dudular time @TCPeppyTc Peppy was the one that sent the package from the hospital, though that isn't exactly clear until the final scene of the chapter. Now that I look back, the scene makes it out so it sounds like James himself was in that hospital, though for the time being he's only captured by Venom. All of James's belongings are sent to Peppy, who then sends it to Fox. I might have to fix a bit of that. As far as angst goes, I'm trying to handle the tone of the story as carefully as I can. There definitely won't be any hurt/comfort, I'll go ahead and say that. In the next scene, I'm afraid he isn't angsty enough, though he'll snap out of the shock soon. Speaking of the next scene. . . . . : ACT I : . . DENIAL When the sign in the front declared the establishment to be The Wretched Hive Pub, it didn’t exaggerate. Everywhere Fox turned he could see hordes of men in leather jackets, most of which had a veil of smoke storming around them. This had to be Hot Rodder territory, which was apparently home to all of the vicious ruffians that cruised around the stars to look for a good bar brawl. Though Fox’s idea of them may have been an exaggerated stereotype, it was still a warning sign. Fox stayed low and drifted to a barstool, calling out for the bartender once he settled next to the counter. By the time someone came to tend to his thirst, Fox had already zoned out, glumly hunching over the counter until the bartender caught his attention. The man narrowed his eyes at the young vulpine. “Wat’cha want, kid? Lemonade?†he asked, snickering a little. “Show me some ID.†Fox sat there silently for a moment, which prompted the man to stare him down impatiently. After a few more seconds, he caved in, let out a breath, and retrieved his wallet to pull out his identification card. The man took a glance at the card’s form for his age. “. . . Seventeen? Really?†he bellowed with laughter and flung the card back at the boy. “Come on boy, at least try.†He just looked at the bartender with unfazed eyes. “Sorry. I left my fake ID at home,†he muttered through clamped jaws, “Should I go fetch it?†He snorted. “Fucking smart alec. Should I laugh or kick you into the streets?†“Third option. A drink would be nice, pretty pleasewith a cherry on top?†Fox retorted dryly. “Cherries are much better than olives anyhow. Throw in an umbrella too, won’t you? Can’t have the full Zoness experience without one of those umbrellas in my drink.†“Leave the old-timer alone, won’t ya?†a stranger said into his ear while an arm came to drape itself over Fox’s shoulder. He jerked his head to see that the man looked even more out of place in this bar than he did; in the stool next to him sat a blue-furred feline in an orange button-down shirt with a soothing floral pattern that danced across the fabric. He looked like a typical tourist, but the Wretched Hive didn’t look like a typical resort. The strange fellow didn’t even have any furrowed eyebrows of confusion as if he realized he read the wrong directions on a vacation map. There were only sagging, bloodshot eyes. Fox narrowed his eyes at the newcomer and leaned back to slip his shoulder away from the cat’s arm. The longer Fox stared at the man, the quicker it took for a malicious grin to slip out of the stranger’s mouth. “. . . Heh. Didn’t introduce myself, did I?†he asked while offering a paw for a handshake. “Name’s Tom Coolidge. Call me Cool.†“. . . Cool?†he mumbled back, and he nodded. The cat’s paw still hovered before him, so he reluctantly grasped it for a loose handshake. He turned back to the counter and noticed the bartender had drifted away to another corner of the bar. Fox sighed and burrowed his face into the counter. “Hey Cool,†he muffled out, lifting his head up to speak with more clarity. “Mind getting me a drink? I’ll make it worth your while.†He slammed his hand onto the counter to feel for where he left his wallet, but it wasn’t there. With a pinch of anxiety, he reached into his back pocket next and realized it was safely tucked into his jeans. Now calm, he pulled out a bill of thirty Cornerian Credits and slid it over to Cool. “You fine with this kind of cash?†Cool flinched when he pulled out the money, but then nodded once he regained his composure. “Yeah man, those credits do fine.†he said, and banged against the counter thereafter. Knowing that the bartender probably remembered him as clear as water, Fox scooted down a few seats to draw away suspicion. Soon enough the man came back to serve Cool. “Honey wine, please.†The bartender raised an eyebrow but complied, retrieving a bottle of sparkling yellow fluid to hand the feline. Once he left to serve other men across the bar, Cool slipped the bottle to Fox, which he grimaced at. “A beer would have been just dandy, you know. . .†Cool just shook his head. “Sorry dude, don’t want you to get a kid drunk on me. Honey wine’s fine though, barely enough punch to knock out a schoolgirl.†Fox’s mug drooped glumly. “What, you think I wanted a fucking schoolgirl drink?†He sighed and clamped Fox on the shoulder. “Hey man, you got a little something so take it. You want something better, go get it yourself.†He turned to the side and pointed to a rodent in the distance. “You see that rotting bastard back there? Talk to him, he can print you out a fake ID in about an hour. His name’s Mousor, even got the name stitched into his jacket. Can’t miss him.†Fox peered at the bottle, uncorked it, and took a sip. Not enough of a kick, so he nodded at his offer and hoisted himself up to swim through the shaggy, putrid, leather-clad sea. Too many eyes followed him along the way, sharpening their gutting knives as they waited for him to take the bait and get reeled into a heap of trouble. With all the training in the academy, he knew he could probably take on at most about two or three of those gang members. He hadn’t signed up for Bar Fighting 101, though. He managed to make it to the other corner of the establishment unscratched; now standing before the table Mousor sat at, busy chattering with some other Hot Rodders gathered around the table. One of them was a colossal reptile that bore the name Bowsor across his back, must be like some kind of nametag for thugs around here. The letters BMF on the back of the blue pheasant’s red leather jacket might have stood for something, but the pink furred feline didn’t have any form of printed identification, just a yellow tank top and jeans that wrapped too tightly around her legs. “Hey, I need a fake ID. . .†Fox mumbled out, realizing how weak he sounded once those words escaped his muzzle. Mousor didn’t even realize he was even there until the bird thwacked him in the shoulder. “Eh? Wazzat?†the rat spurted, twisting toward Fox and looking him in the eye, studying his appearance. “ID?†Fox narrowed his eyes at the shriveled man. “Well, yeah.†“Cough up some dough. What all you’ve got?†Fox fumbled back into his wallet and dug for a one hundred credit bill, but couldn’t retrieve it. Only a couple ten credit bills and loose change remained in its depths. His heart throbbed when continued search proved unfruitful, and the misfits at the table started to get ornery from impatience. “. . . Hold on one sec, got to get some. . . cash.†He spat out from the top of his head, walking briskly back to the counter in search for Cool, but realized halfway through he wasn’t there. He frantically scanned the perimeter to find a trace of where he was at, and soon picked up a glimpse of a blue fur strolling though a restroom door. Fox tailed after him. He pried the door open ever so slightly to slip inside. He wouldn’t go so far as to call the restroom as filthy as he’d imagine in a dump like this, but it was definitely dirty. The kind of dirty he used to find back in the junior high bathroom, nothing to do with the technical sanitation of the facility. He bit his lip to suppress the chuckles that came when he thought of one of these thugs actually keeping the restrooms clean. Cool had already become too preoccupied at the urinal to notice the muffled noises Fox made from behind. With the prey completely oblivious, he readied the heavy glass of honey wine like a club and struck a blow in the back of the thief’s head. The blue cat tumbled straight down to the floor screeching in agony, tugging at Fox’s shirt to try and break his fall. He jolted back from his grip and let him plop right on his back, leaving the cat lying face up with a picture perfect view of McCloud’s face from below. “Y-you!†he yelped out, before fading down to a whimper when he felt a surge of pain through his forehead, urging him to rub his temple and take a deep breath. Fox dug his paws into Cool’s pockets and retrieved his hundred credits. He took another swig from the bottle, noting how there wasn’t even a crack in it. The same couldn’t be said about the little thief’s skull, though. “. . . I left you some of the cash. . . “ the cat whimpered out in defense, with the words bouncing along the narrow walls that Fox made his way out through. He marched back out once he finished his business, and all eyes in the pub shot at him the second he stepped out from the restroom door. He froze in his tracks, but the crowd didn’t fall for his act of possum. As men drew towards him, Fox took one step back and held up balled fists. Fists failed to defend him against a flying cue stick that arced towards him like a tribal’s throwing spears. The improvised projective jabbed Fox in the spleen before he could react to the oddity, bringing him down to a bark on his knees as he clutched at the new bruise. The gang lurched forward once the first shot was declared, one of which had time to deliver a solid kick to Fox’s side before he manage to climb back up to his feet. He stumbled back at the blow but propped himself back up with the cue before he could slip again. With the thuggish staff now in his hands, he leaped towards the men in the general direction of where the cue whizzed from and struck the weapon against his torso. The man fell backwards; a few more crept up behind Fox as he focused on the apparent first attacker. Sensing what lurked behind him, he swerved around and struck one at the legs to topple him down to the floor. The stick made a crackling snap. The other man that tried to creep behind him snuck a punch in when the broken pool cue distracted him. Fox faltered backwards but clung onto the thug’s collar to drag him down into the plummet with him. Both thumped against the hard ground. Fox pushed himself up to gain the higher ground against the man and brandished the cue’s half to ready a critical strike. Before it could make contact, another man came from behind to smack Fox in the back of the head with the severed end of the stick. He growled in plain and swiftly toppled down, too stunned by the attack to retaliate against a barrage of kicks that rained upon him as he lay there defenselessly. - - - - - The back doors of the Wretched Hive Pub slammed open to eject the golden furred vulpine into the Zoness rain. Fox splashed into the sickly green tinted puddles of the back alley, and laid there as the thugs clad in leather jackets stepped outside to finish the brawl. They loomed towards him as silhouettes against the fiery orange glow that came from inside. Fox pushed against the asphalt to heave upwards, but a kick to the side from one of the men slipped his balance and made him plop back down. A tiger kneeled down and hoisted Fox up by the collar to give him a deep growl. “Gonna fuck with the Hot Rodders again, kid?†Fox drifted eye contact away from the tiger’s glare and sat there silent for a moment, trying to think of snide a comeback to defend himself with. Words failed to form within his pounding brain after the drunken bar fight, and the other men mumbled amongst each other with impatience as he stood there in silence. He ultimately sighed and shook his head. “. . . No sir.†The tiger pushed him back again and didn’t bother to say anything, and returned inside with the rest of his crew. The doors slammed back in position and shunned the orange glow away, leaving Fox outside in the dark to ponder over the situation. Heavy metal riffs continued to muffle across the wall, and there was the faint trace of laughter from the bar patrons. Fox groaned and held his aching shoulder together. He lifted himself back up to his feet and limped back to the streets, starting the trek towards Peppy’s hospital. He boarded the first taxi cab he could catch up to and told the driver his destination. As the cab made its way there, Fox watched the scenery past the soaked windshields, grimacing over how Zoness was no longer the sunny paradise that he knew about from the brochures. He dazed and had to be awoken from the daydream by the driver when they arrived at the location. To pay the fare, Fox offered Cornerian Credits, but the driver informed him that he needed an extra charge since Zoness uses different types of currency. It took a little over a minute to come to an agreement, and once everything was paid for Fox disembarked and entered the hospital. - - - - - EDIT: Went ahead and pasted in a few more bits at the end so the next part I post will be easier to digest Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
sroberson Posted May 9, 2012 Share Posted May 9, 2012 Just to make sure i understand, does this next installment to the story come directly after the first part you posted? It seems a bit detached, like Fox just wants to have a drink and be a teenager. It might just be me not feeling a connection since there is no link to why Fox is bar hopping (which I could attribute to you trying to avoid an extremely angsty feel to the story) After reading TC's second comment I kind of had to think about the ending of the second part again...The bloody neckerchief, while creepy, definitely adds a dark tone to the story (if that's what you were aiming for, you got it). The only thing that kind of got me wondering 'was how did Peppy come across the neckerchief?'. After thinking for a little bit I think I know how Peppy came across the neckerchief, but I was confused for a second as I wondered if James was actually in the hospital himself or if Peppy just had the mementos from James after he escaped Venom. Im betting you probably planned on covering that issue in the coming installments. Still an enjoyable read mind you! Just my thoughts. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mellow Walrus Posted May 12, 2012 Author Share Posted May 12, 2012 Here's the last of chapter one. I'm about halfway through the second one now, but haven't gotten too much farther in the past few days. I've been reading a bit of classic sci-fi lit and watching some old propaganda, so that'll probably stir a little something for a while. Next update will probably be in a week or two. - - - - - - - - - - - Doctors tried to coax Fox into getting a checkup whenever they saw him staggering across the halls, but he brushed the offers aside. Instead, he trudged onwards and came upon the Peppy’s room to see the unconscious rabbit, tangled within tubes like a fly in a spider’s web. Bandages wrapped around his head and carried a few stains of dried blood, but he managed to avoid needing any other casts on his body. Fox nudged him awake, which prompted mumbles from Peppy Hare as he stretched his body into consciousness. When he realized who was visiting him he gave a solemn nod and tried to twist his face into a smile to give his copilot’s son support, but failed to conceal his lifeless grimace. “. . . You’re awfully soaked, Fox.†He looked down to his damp garments. He still looked beat up from the rumble, but the soaked clothes drove enough attention away from that. “. . . Just a little rain is all.†Peppy raised an eyebrow, but brushed suspicion aside and looked out the window towards the downpour and occasional lightening flash. “Rain’s a lot different here,†Peppy said, “It’s all polluted, it’ll burn the fur off your hide if you don’t wash it off.†Only one word made it through to Fox. “Polluted, huh. Because Andross set up shop here?†Peppy cringed at the utterance of the name. “Well. . .†he sighed and sat up straight in his bed. “. . . Yeah. That’s half the reason me and the guys were snooping around Area 6 in the first place. They’re slipping past Sector Z to build bases out in the middle of the ocean. So long as the islands out there don’t have a flag sticking out of them, they’re fair game to take.†He turned his head towards the window and gave it a point. “There’s a couple structures built out in the open there, probably some Venomians around. Explains all the monkeys and lizards flooding the place.†Fox limped over towards the window, still feeling the pain in his legs. Peppy couldn’t bug off the instinct pestering him. “Fox. . . did something happen to you?†he asked, but a reply didn’t come. He pondered over asking the question again, but his tongue couldn’t find the will to nag. Fox pulled out James’s shades from his pocket and donned them. Through the lenses, a holographic heads-up display bordered the edges of his vision, displaying data such as temperature and atmospheric statistics. Fox had to squint to see past the blurry image since his father set the gadget up so it could double as corrective lenses for his nearsightedness. The crack in the right lens also disoriented some of the projections on that side of his view, as if he peered through an insect’s eye. He tinkered at the sliding bar on the temple arms to zoom into the nearby sea and used another to adjust the brightness. After scanning through the tides, his eyes caught sight of the shadows of faraway constructions. He groaned and tucked the sunglasses into the neckerchief. “Aren’t the countries here going to do anything about this?†Peppy sighed. “Shit, I don’t even know which country I’m in right now. Some patrols just scooped me out my wrecked up Arwing after I passed out in the cockpit.†His eyes shifted into an unfocused gazed toward nothing in particular. “. . . They knocked out one of the wings when I tried to make my escape, almost knocked me out too. They said I had a concussion, but apparently not too bad of one since I got rid of the pursuers on my tail. Details are a bit fuzzy, got the lights knocked out of me after my ship crashed. Somewhere between here and there I woke up drifting through space all alone with all of Jimmy’s belongings laid out on my lap. He must’ve done something to get me out there, or something. Your dad’s a mighty damn fine hero.†He said, managing to give an honest smile this time, and he clamped Fox on the shoulder. “One of the G-Diffusers tore right off with that wing,†he continued, with tone that started to falter. “Another dangled off the side of the ship, figured it’d pop off any moment if I so much as made a sharp turn. Would’ve plummeted straight down if there were any more gravity . . . would’ve been dead. Hell, I’d have died soon if they just let me drift to the atmosphere; all I could do then was drift along space. I’d crash if I tried to land with just one flimsy wing, two G-Diffusers. Third one still hung on all the way there, but it couldn’t do much. Wasn’t in position to generate stuff with the other ones.†Peppy paused at the end of the speech, trying to think of something else to say, words that would pass on his story. Nothing came. He started to tremble and his face began to quiver. The vulpine frowned and perched on the side of the bed. “Hey, Peppy. . . I think you might want these back.†He said softly, setting the shades and neckerchief beside him. “You’ve trekked through hell and back to get here; all I’ve trekked through are the halls of the academy.†Peppy glanced over them for a moment, picked them up, and eased them back into Fox’s hands. “No, no. You’re his son. All I did was save my own tail. You have more of a right to his legacy than me.†Fox looked down at the mementos, knowing inside that he felt the emotional weight they carried. He took a deep breath and reclaimed the shades and neckerchief, slipping a whimper out of his muzzle. Peppy pulled himself up settled next to the teenager to drape an arm over his shoulder in consolation. They sat there in silence. “. . . What about Pigma? What happened to him?†Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
sroberson Posted May 15, 2012 Share Posted May 15, 2012 Very tight knit addition to the story. Progresses the story at an even pace, allows Fox and Peppy to have some sort of emotion, but not allow them to get overly weepy about it (though a bit more emotion would have been fine in my opinion). I kind of expected a more thorough description of what happened to James and how Peppy came to own his neckerchief and glasses. I'm still kind of stuck having to assume that James and Peppy were imprisoned in some place where Peppy could have physically picked up the momentos, instead of the image that I have always had that James was shot down while flying. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mellow Walrus Posted May 15, 2012 Author Share Posted May 15, 2012 I kind of expected a more thorough description of what happened to James and how Peppy came to own his neckerchief and glasses. I'm still kind of stuck having to assume that James and Peppy were imprisoned in some place where Peppy could have physically picked up the momentos, instead of the image that I have always had that James was shot down while flying. Ah, there's what I need! My first vision was James getting shot down too, but I kept running into plot holes that didn't fit in with the method of sabotage that Pigma had in mind. I'll be able to fit the pieces better with both James and Peppy being imprisoned, but for obvious reasons Peppy makes it out in one piece. (I'm afraid Peppy won't be busting out in pulse-pounding action, but the situation should be fairly interesting) A few events leading up to the present should be elaborated upon in the next chapter, which will be shown through Pigma's side of the story. Also, made a few minor edits to the above scene to better accommodate this. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ellanie Posted June 1, 2012 Share Posted June 1, 2012 I've been hooked into this one! I urge you to continue this. I really rather enjoy the flow, and the characterization is great. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mellow Walrus Posted June 1, 2012 Author Share Posted June 1, 2012 Thanks! Don't worry, I'm still definitely working on this, I just wanted to be a bit ahead of where I'm posting. So far I've got 2.8k written down of the second chapter, I think I'll go ahead and post a snippet right now, I've certainly hidden it from all y'all long enough. Sorry this piece cuts off a bit abruptly, the entirety of the first scene is a bit too long, and this way it'd be easier to digest. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Chapter Two My Dinner with Andrew “So what’s gonna happen to me now?†Lt. General Caiman of Area 6 lumbered over Pigma against the crimson sunlight that filtered into the command bridge. Pigma could see the man look blankly out to the Venomian expanse, thinking intently on a good answer to give. The man sighed and turned back to the swine mercenary. “Corneria’s bound to file a restraining order against you; I suggest that you obey it.†He muttered out, and started to walk away. Pigma glared at the answer and confronted him before he could make it any farther. “I delivered you boys Jimmy in a nice, convenient package. Now I better make enough out of that so I don’t have to hand over another comrade to anyone ever again.†The general looked back over his shoulder and glared. “We hired a bounty hunter to catch James, not a traitor. Next time you go hunting, plan out whose side you’re on in advance.†he said and proceeded to walk away again, this time going uninterrupted by Pigma. He couldn’t bite back this time. He could only sink down against the wall of the corridor and wait to get either kicked out of the battleship or hired for a job. Not that anybody would notice him if they passed by though, the place was so dim, just like the rest of Venom. He hadn’t even stepped out into the atmosphere yet, but he knew how the climate was. Step too far in one direction, you swelter. Step too far in another and you freeze. Damn planet’s too close to Solar, it doesn’t even revolve. The scorched wastes will always burn in hellfire, the dark side of Venom will always taste death’s cold grasp. There was just one thin band where night and day could meet each other halfway. Ship started to descend, apparently they were going somewhere. Maybe it was a place where he could start anew. Venom could be an ideal land of opportunity if it didn’t reek from the masses of immigrants that polluted the market. At least Sargasso’s more up front about the anarchy, Andross’s goons are just kidding themselves claiming their country is under control. He struggled upward and leaned against the window. Pitch black forests blurred across the way, black because they had to photosynthesize through the infrared spectrum. Venom flipped all the basics that nature should be following. The planet was an abomination, but it would have to make due as a new home. “Come on, move it.†A Venomian grunt barked out, snapping Pigma away from the scenery. Pigma stared for a second. Having no clue where to wander, he hesitantly nodded to let himself be herded along the like livestock. “Alright, lead the way.†The soldier trudged forward without a word, so Pigma took the cue and walked alongside. The path was uneventful; all the narrow passageways looked exactly like the one Pigma just waited in. The arrival at the docking bay made for a nice change in pace, a wide open range that he could just graze around in without suffocating in the claustrophobic hallways. In the distance a bright white imperial shuttle shone as a beacon across the rows of dull ships that awaited takeoff. His mind drifted away looking at it, barely processing the guard’s orders to board onto the vehicle. This didn’t seem like anything he should be entering under normal occasions, though. That shuttle was fit for a king, and now Pigma better be fit for some compensation by a king. He pushed his way through to reach the destination. Two guards clad in power armor had duty at the ship’s entry boardwalk. They’d sure make easy targets, with a vibrant red and white design that had radiating blue visors, the colors for the Worldwide Emissaries of Bolse. Imperial guards would need to look like targets though, just as they need to take a bullet for those that they protect. With armor like that, they could probably take a missile. Pigma felt the same feeling in his gut that he got back in Corneria when a police officer passed by. He knew he didn’t have any plans for doing any criminal act, but the pressure would still make him feel guilty nevertheless. He could feel the eyes behind those visors following him as he walked inside the vessel. Once inside the shuttle, Pigma exhaled in relief, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, which he made sure to wipe away. The owner probably wouldn’t want a sizzling strip of bacon sweating all over the place. Everything in the small yet cozy shuttle looked tedious to clean. Peppy was the neat freak of Starfox. Pigma figured he’d need a replacement Peppy fast, before he drowned in his own filth. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mellow Walrus Posted June 11, 2012 Author Share Posted June 11, 2012 Finished the second chapter last night, so I'll go ahead and post the next scene from it. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Past one door he could see a dining room with the star spangled banner of the Old World draped over the back wall like a curtain. Before it sat a lean primate dressed in a modest lounge suit that seemed a few sizes too big for his lanky frame. He looked more like a child putting on a suit to pretend to be a grown up, he couldn’t be any older than twenty. “Come on in and have yourself a seat,†his voice squeaked, but with effort to at least try to come off as sophisticated, which Pigma knew he had to play along with. “I’m Lord Andrew Oikonny, Emperor Andross’s nephew.†He held his arm out for a handshake, which Pigma accepted as he took his seat. “It’s a pleasure to be here, sir.†The lord narrowed his eyes. “I’d hardly say that, going by what I’ve heard on what happened. It’s a pleasure for me to see you, at least.†He loosened a warm grin. “I really looked up to you guys when I was a youngster. I never imagined I’d meet one of you in the flesh. Heck, that’s the reason why I called for you to be sent up here in the first place.†Pigma coughed out a flat chuckle. “Sounds like all the young ones do. Ever had an action figure of me?†“Of course!†he said immediately, almost shouting. “I snagged everything SF that they put on the shelves, at least until I got a bit too old for toys. Nowadays I keep the collection for the nostalgia.†He laughed. “In retrospect, the whole thing was probably Cornerian propaganda, but boys will eat up anything with tons of action.†Pigma chuckled again, genuinely this time. “Bah, to tell you the truth, I thought the damn toy line was silly. Jim and Pep loved them better than the kids, though. But royalties are always nice. Payment sure was royal, for me at least.†He saw how enthralled Andrew seemed over the conversation, which was good. He worried the recent events would hamper his negotiation skills. Pigma relaxed his muscles back in the chair, finally realizing the steamed lobster perched on the table. “. . . I can eat this, right?†He smirked. “Go on, pig out. Err. . .†he said, realizing what he uttered. “That’s not a racial slur now, is it?†“Oh please, you Venomians are too uptight.†Pigma said, shrugging. The shuttle started taking off from the docking bay, but everything stayed absolutely still. There must have been some pretty high quality gravity pads on the ship. Pigma reached for a glass of wine and took a sip. “I’m a walking pig stereotype, trust me. I tried denying it for years, nobody’s gonna believe any different.†Andrew crossed his arms and shook his head. “Now I’m sure you’re not that bad.†Pigma shook his head. He started to bang at the lobster’s claw. “No denial. Maybe redemption one day, but first I’ve got bills to pay. Don’t really care about fixing the gluttony and lust, though.†With one last whack from the cracker, the shell split open and exposed some of the tender meat inside. He took the meat and dipped it into some butter, plopping into his mouth and thoroughly chewing before opening his mouth to speak again. “Those two gals are my problem, nobody else’s. The late night pudding heists and kitty fetishes never hurt anybody. Those are some pretty damn lame sins if only I’m the victim.†The lord laughed. “Wouldn’t the cats be the victim?†The mercenary scoffed. “Greed trumps that sin, I’m not gonna fork over my hard earned cash for fifteen minutes of fun, that’s nowhere near enough to milk my money’s worth.†“Anything else? Sloth, wrath, pride?†“And envy,†Pigma added, “But no, not that one. Sloth. . .†he began, and paused for a moment to think. “Eh, sometimes. Unless the greed tells me to get shit done. Too laid back for wrath.†“But what of pride?†Pigma took a long drink from the wine. “Nonexistent, that’s probably why I’m checking off my sins like grocery list.†The boy smirked. “Shears began rambling about sin like this too.†He stared for a while and shook his head in disbelief. “No, not the guy that prances around in a gaudy Sgt Pepper outfit. That’d be ridiculous.†“Oh, it’s true. The whole rant is covered all over the newsreels. He sent that transmission not too many days ago, actually. Odd coincidence, huh?†Pigma nodded, sure that he would be stuck on this rock for a while. Andrew leaned forward in his chair and took the lobster’s other claw and began to thwack at it. “Shears, he’s backing the Cornerian Experimental Research Syndicate’s research.†“CERS is fine,†Pigma said, and tried to resist the urge to call the ape out for stretching the term out longer than it needed to be pronounced. “I’ve had a run in or two with them in my days.†Andrew nodded and donned a lobster bib before he dunked the meat into the butter. “How’s the crustacean?†He asked, eying the food in his hand. “We’ve just imported this from Zoness. You can’t grow full lobsters in vats; pure flesh would take the fun out of eating them.†“It’s just fine.†Pigma grumbled. “Don’t fret; it’s not poisoned from the pollution.†He said again, ignoring Pigma’s reassurance that he was satisfied. The suspiciously specific denial made the hog doubtful of his first opinion. The general took a nibble to check to see if the coast was clear, and when the results satisfied him he took a larger bite. “It’s one hundred percent clean, these are caught in the Aquas Ocean. No pollution there. Hell, there aren’t even street lights there.†Pigma raised an eyebrow. “Eh? I thought Aquas is a huge tourist destination.†He nodded. “Yes, it is. But they want to cut back on the light pollution. The beautiful skies are the main draw to most of the islands there. From that ocean’s position, Solar will always peak over the horizon, like an eternal sunset.†“Ah.†Pigma mumbled, not particularly interested in such things. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a yellow tattoo of Team Starfox’s logo, the winged beast-fox. He gave an expression of confusion when he showcased the tattoo, and frowned when he saw what the design was. “I guess you’ll be regretting that one, eh?†Pigma blinked. “What?†He sat there puzzled. “You know. . .†he tried to say, pointing to his arm. “That.†“Wha. . . oh, that.†He said, putting the pieces together. “That’s a nano-ink tattoo. It monitors my diabetes, see. . .†he activated the UV light on his wristwatch, though nothing special seemed to happen. “Well, if the glucose levels were high, the tattoo would start glowing under the infrared light.†“Interesting. I don’t think I’ve heard of anything like that before.†“It’s still in beta, tons of companies offer to try their developing inventions on us. We were half mercenary team, half lab rat pack. Practically anything starting with nano got injected into us. That’s why I’ve ran into CERS before.†“Ah, sounds like James is already used to such things.†“Eh? What do you mean?†Pigma asked. “Well, as I was saying a while ago, about Shears and CERS. They’re doing genetic experiments on him right now.†Pigma winced. “But anyway, the other thing I was saying a while ago, about Aquas. Meteo’s close enough that the asteroid ring in the sky is bright enough to be a clean ray of light running through the sky.†He rambled on. Pigma didn’t think too hard on the visuals, but Andrew didn’t notice his boredom and continued. “In most other places it can’t be seen by the naked eye. But this orbital ring looks like a stretched out comet. Plus, that means that there’s bound to be frequent meteor showers. It’s a lovely place for stargazing.†Pigma scratched the back of his head. “Ermm. . . that’s nice.†By this point the conversation had started to ruin his appetite.Which sounded a bit odd regarding Pigma, but he figured everyone had to lose their appetite at some point. This situation crossed that point twice. He chuckled, finally picking up the hint. “Alright, I’ve got it all figured out now. I better stop screwing around and tend to your greed.†He retrieved a wallet from his pocket and counted some bills. “We’re not legally obligated to pay you for this, but I can spare a little of my own change. Is Venomian money fine?†He opened his mouth to ask for Cornerian Credits instead, but then realized that would of course be useless now. “I, uh, I don’t know. . . Well, I’m probably gonna be stranded out here anyway, might as well have the right kind of money.†Lord Oikonny nodded. “Let’s see, James’s bounty was. . .†he said, pressing a button on the side of the desk. A holographic window popped up between the two. After shifting through a few menus, James McCloud’s mug shot plastered across the screen, showing his bounty to two hundred thousand dollars. Andrew rubbed his temples, trying to translate the amount into the value of Cornerian Credits. “That’s about, hmm . . . six million creds?†he mouthed some calculations to himself to make sure it was accurate. “Why yes, six million.†“I better watch my spending then, I’m not too used to small numbers like that.†“Sounds like a deal.†He said, giving one more firm handshake. “Of course, I’m afraid we’ll have to settle for about . . . I’d say maybe twenty thousand a month. “ Pigma nodded. “Fine by me, and it’d be dandy to receive one of those payments up front.†Andrew scratched the back of his neck and dove into his pockets to retrieve a wallet. “How about two hundred today and eighteen hundred tomorrow?†He shrugged, “Alright, let me jot down the comm channel’s frequency . . .†he said, giving the primate his contact information. Pigma looked back out the window again, seeing how the shadows of lumbering structures passed by against the blood red horizon at a slower pace than before. The destination couldn’t be too much farther. Hopefully he’d be ready for what lies ahead by then. “. . . So what’s gonna happen to me now?†The room stayed silent in thought. “. . . Stay out of Corneria.†Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
sroberson Posted June 12, 2012 Share Posted June 12, 2012 Hmm...Not sure if I understood correctly, but we are led to believe that James McCloud is still alive during this time? I'm interested...I get the feeling you are one of the fans who would like to see James make a real appearance in the games. I like what you did with Pigma making him out to be something more to reckon with than just a fat swine, but still keeping him in character of being just that. Makes me wonder how Pigma isn't the leading antagonist out of Star Wolf since he has the most direct link to James' death. The last two writings makes him a more loathed villain, and makes Wolf look more like a 3rd wheel who arbitrarily hates Fox for a pretty random reason. While it would obviously non-canon I can for some reason feel some sort of showdown with Fox vs. Pigma somehow (but that could be the Slayer music currently playing that would like to see some sort of violent end to Pigma) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ellanie Posted June 14, 2012 Share Posted June 14, 2012 It's been a while since something I read put a knot in my throat, but this one did, and it just makes me want to read more. Its enthralling what you are putting down here. Keep it up. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hidi Posted June 30, 2012 Share Posted June 30, 2012 Hey Mellow Walrus! I'm new to the SFO forums, but I'm also working on a fan fiction similar to yours. I think this is a very good piece of work and it has given me lots of inspiration and ideas for my own work. The writing is very good and the detail is very rich, but feels a little inconsistent at times. Otherwise, this is great! Thanks for the inspiration! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mellow Walrus Posted July 1, 2012 Author Share Posted July 1, 2012 Welcome to the forums, Hidi! Anyway, sorry 'bout the lack of updates here, I haven't gotten to start on the third chapter yet. I'm still heavily interested in this at least, just that I've been distracted by a bunch of games. (Namely Fallout New Vegas and everything that came with the newest Humble Indie Bundle) I'm gonna go ahead and post the last of what I've written now, hopefully I'll be able to get ahead in the scenes sometime soon, the muse usually comes in short but meaty bursts. I'll go ahead and say here that James McCloud will never be an acting character in the events of these fanfics, he'd be more of a MacGuffin than anything else. If there's flashback scenes down the road he can make an appearance, but he will definitely never reunite with Fox. He'll still play a large roll in the chain of events that will unfold later on, which'll have to be my little secret for now. There will be a confrontation between Fox and Pigma near the end, though, and I'll be switching the POV back and forth throughout the story to build up towards it. I already have all the basic plot for the five story arcs planned out, we'll see if the characters will flow along the path I set up for them. But yeah, here's the last snippet of the second chapter. Welcome to NetLink™ > Log In Enter Password > ******* = = = = = = = = = = = = = SPACE DYNAMICS NETWORK CONNECTIONS = = = = = = = = = = = = = - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - COPYRIGHT 684-693 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Welcome, PIGMA DENGAR > Open Networks > CommLink > TermLink > Database > Subspace Radio > G-Diffuser > Deactivate Control Panel > Modify Network Connection > Connect to a Network > View Connected Networks > Search for Available Networks > Disconnect from a Network Disconnecting . . . > No networks found. Connect to a network? <Y/N> The ex-Star Fox pilot shuffled back and forth through the menus a few more times to make sure that his arwing’s G-Diffusers stayed disconnected from the network. He couldn’t shake the chill in his spine that suggested that Peppy could strike back at any moment and highjack his ship’s controls in the same way he did to him and James. Too many ships came and went out of the public hangar in Bolse. Every time he heard the ignition rumble from a nearby aircraft he felt the instinct to duck for cover in case his ship decided to spiral out of control. The only reason such a maneuver like that worked in the first place was because of trust. While simple to maintain, the G-Diffuser required to be constantly monitored to precisely adjust to whatever gravitational environment it encountered. Too much, smack. Too little, thud. The network let the pilots watch each other’s backs. Pigma pitched in the most backup of that area, being the resident mechanic and all. James and Peppy stayed more on the offensive spectrum. Even if Peppy managed to hack through the G-Diffusers, the arwing probably couldn’t lift itself off the ground in its condition. It looked like a giant gnawed on the side of the ship, but a little gnawing on is better than being digested and puked out as a boiling puddle of slag. That would have happened if he didn’t turn the others over to Venom, it would have happened to all three of them. Two thirds made it out of the chaos, more than half—but that’s still terrible. He still had plenty of work to do; there’d be time for grief later. The ship won’t take too kindly to gravity with a crippled wing like that, not for a while at least. Not too much could be salvaged directly from it, except a bit of scrap metal. The whole wing would have to go; the thing was damaged beyond repair. If only the hangar had the proper tools for the job, he used to get by with waiting to give it a tune up whenever they return to the hideout back on Papetoon. No run-of-the-mill hunk of metal could suffice for the arwing; he’d have to give Space Dynamics a call. He hopped out of the cockpit and wandered his way out of the facility in search of a phone booth. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - That hellish sky, still there, not even the streaming smog of the zooming automobiles could blot out the rays. A handful of hover cars peaked over the cluttered highway, ridden only by the upper class of Bolse, namely government officials and business tycoons. No comrades on Venom, only masters and slaves. He could practically see these masters in the sky peering down upon the earth, with the power to flip the city upside down without as much as stepping down to the street to say a word to these slaves. That is, as soon as they grow bored of swimming in heaps of gold coins. Pigma had been stranded on this layer of society, though. The plague of crime that spread rampantly across the streets was terrible in its own right, but the civilians that made it by disgusted Pigma even more. Civilians in Venom took the rare instances of safe life for granted when there’s violence all around them, while in Corneria everyone was thankful for everything despite their government having every single problem under control. Sure, these people waved little flags once in a blue moon when national holidays arose, but every other day of the year they didn’t give a damn about their country and heritage. They clutched onto their family and possessions for dear life, but when it came to national identity they shunned everyone else and insisted that all of their progress was their doing, as if they didn’t get one helping hand from anyone else. Not to say that the ruffians out here were anywhere near off the hook, but at least they knew how Venom really operated, more so than the WEB ever could wrap their heads around. The mafia carried out the same basic functions as the law enforcement; they just preferred to keep the whole procedural under wraps, while the “official†ones prefer to wave around their badge to convince everyone that they’re the ones in charge. A splash of water snapped Pigma out of his inner monologue and he jumped back. The responsible vehicle had been long gone by the time he searched the scene for the perpetrator, leaving only the remnants of the puddle on the side of the road, probably shallower now than just then. He grunted and slipped deeper into the horde, with a few brushes to his pants in attempt to undo the damage. A few eyes pulled themselves to the scene, but most trudged through without a thought. He clung to the farther side of the sidewalk for a while, a safe enough distance from the street, though it wasn’t as if lightening would strike twice. “Want to have a real wet time, hun?†said a scantily clad woman through puffs of a cigarette. Pigma brushed the advertisement aside and kept going. He probably should’ve picked a better hangar to drop the arwing off at. He passed a newsstand and tried to look around the crowd huddled around it, most of the headlines involved the rant Shears threw that Andrew was talking about. He only half believed that Andrew kid back on his shuttle, but it looked legit on print. Of course, the journalists here could have just stirred up a rumor for the sales, that’s pretty much what this economy demands of them anyway. The WEB didn’t bother to lay down the real truth for its people; it would be hard for Pigma to find out what’s actually going on in this world where everyone’s voice contradicted each other’s. In the corner of his eye he spotted that phone booth which this whole journey revolved around, right across the street. When the traffic signal turned in favor to the pedestrians he tagged alongside the next wave that walked along the intersection crossing. He saw an overdressed housewife clinging onto her son to prevent him from wandering off to who-knows-where while arguing with the father that trailed behind her. That wasn’t really noteworthy in itself, that detail was when another fellow glided among the crowd and took a few pickings out of the lady’s colossal purse while she was distracted, then slipped right out without alerting anyone. He witnessed it; a few others did too, though nobody seemed to desire opposing it. By the time he made it to the other sidewalk it didn’t matter to him anymore. The booth barely stood in one piece, but the payphone itself stayed intact, that’s what mattered. Just a few shards of glass clung to the graffiti-plastered frame, the rest scattered all around, urging Pigma to watch his step as he entered. He reached for the phone surrounded by call girl advertisements and dug around in his wallet for a dollar to insert into the machine. He dialed the number to reach his supplier at Space Dynamics, welcomed by their familiar voices. True, they didn’t actually give a shit about talking to him, but it was a sound he actually recognized in this nightmare of a town. He ordered the parts for the arwing he’d need to complete the repairs, which would take a few weeks to arrive. After a few minutes he finished the transaction and departed the booth. Soon afterwards he heard the jangling of coins in the booth, and turned to see a beggar sprinting out of it. He must’ve helped himself to the change Pigma forgot to retrieve. He shrugged it off and set back out, deciding he needed to seek out a hotel for the night. He went back the way he came, encountering a pickpocket on the job. Maybe they were the same one from earlier, maybe not. He couldn’t tell which was worse. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest BlueRaccoon Posted July 24, 2012 Share Posted July 24, 2012 Hey Mellow Walrus. I've got to say that this is a pretty good idea for a story. I just read the whole thing so far a few days ago and here's my criticism. You put great detail into every scene. You could clearly see the environment wherever it was. Aslo, I like the college-like atmosphere you created when Fox, Slippy, and Bill were at the academy. You also had some nice use of metaphors. The one thing I absolutely loved about this story is how well you described the planet Venom. That particular bit was done spectacularly I thought. However, my big complaint is that there wasn't enough emotion in it for me. I mean, if you lost your father in a war, I'm sure you would drink some and just feel like nothing for a little bit, but you would also be very emotional. Even Fox McCloud would have some kind of emotion. That's my only real complaint. Basically, good detail, but needs more emotion. Good story, though. Keep writing. :-) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mellow Walrus Posted December 24, 2012 Author Share Posted December 24, 2012 Hmm, looks like I've been away for a little bit. I've got some free time now that the holidays are here, so I should have some time to work some when I'm done with family stuff. Watched Skyfall, so the Bond tropes should be painfully obvious in these next few scenes. Already intended to pepper the story with some pulp themes, so I'm sure the fic would've had some of this mood to it sooner or later. The content's getting a bit stronger, so just a heads up. Leon slipped through the kitchen’s revolving door and brushed through the conflicting aromas that battled for his nose’s attention. Onions emerged victorious, and left room for the worthy contender of various spices to idle around his senses as he marched in. The head chef constantly barked orders as each incoming waiter gave him the requirements of the patrons. No furries in sight, all were the casino’s native Krazoa descendants, just like Leon. For most it wouldn’t turn heads, but the head chef had a vigorous neck. “You! Cordon bleu! Veal, prosciutto, Swiss, pan fried!†he spouted to Leon, then turned to the next drifter and blared out the next order. Leon walked inside without a nod and dove into the meat locker. After investigating the interior to ensure nobody was inside, he peeked out the freezer door and let himself feel the warm, humid kitchen atmosphere clashing against the bitter cold inside. He leaned against the doorframe and tapped his CommLink. “Crawldaddy to Longlegs, do you read me?†Seductive moans penetrated his ears. “Guess you’re illiterate, then.†Stifled giggles slipped from the mechanical moaning until the communication cut off. While the accomplice was busy, he went back to keeping a lookout from his vantage point. He ducked into the shadows sporadically when the head chef passed by. None of his men in sight yet. “No 8! Get your ass in the kitchen!†he growled through his teeth into his comm, getting a bit uneasy from the sheer fog tickling him from behind. Another one of the cooks already began walking this way. He grumbled under his breath and retreated from his position with a packet of meat in hand as an alibi for diving into the freezer. He settled in a nearby cutting table and cut open the plastic with a nearby kitchen knife and took out the meat to start pounding it with a tenderizer. The cook to the left of him chopped up herbs while the one across the table took the herbs and brewed them into a stew with an arsenal of spices at his disposal. Leon jerked his head back and forth to catch glimpses of the freezer door. “What the hell are you doing, get back to work!†the head chef scowled at Leon’s distractions, storming off to another corner of the kitchen to heckle someone else. Leon kept turning back anyway to make sure the man in the meat locker hadn’t yet emerged. He went ahead and reached for a bottle of sauce and made sure nobody was looking when he poured its slippery contents onto the floor. Soon enough, one of the busboys came in with a heavy load and fell victim to the trap. He merely grunted and skid a bit at first, but with enough persuasion, namely a kick from Leon’s foot, he came tumbling down with a clatter of glass shards shrieking across the kitchen. All the staff members bobbed their heads back at the incident. One of the butchers walked up and gave him a hand, the busboy muttered out weak groans. “I saw him bump his head, might have a concussion.†Leon immediately said, poking fingers. The boss grumbled to himself and sighed. “Dammit, someone go take the kid off somewhere. We can’t deal with this nonsense tonight.†A butcher helped him get to his feet and helped him walk out, and then an outgoing waiter joined in to help carry the young worker out of the kitchen. Everyone resumed their duties once the situation had been settled. Three down, four to go. One of them still must be in that icebox, haven’t seen a peep of him since he went in. Leon almost went back in to check to see if he were still alive, which would be unfortunate, until a fellow chameleon walked in through the revolving door, embedded with a sickly yellow scale hide and wrapped in a tasteful suit. “We need you at the dining hall!†he said towards the head chef, Leon managed to hide his reaction to his presence as the man walked his way over to the intruder. He remembered to watch his step around the puddle, and shouted a wine brewer in a far corner of the kitchen to go fetch a wet floor sign from the utility closet. “Now what is it?†he said, giving his attention back to the chameleon. “The manager wants you over at the dining hall, give you praise for the glorious meal.†He cracked a smirk and nodded. “Take my place while I’m gone.†He said as he made his way out. Three to go, one more on his side. “You sure took your sweet time getting here, didn’t you?†He glared, tilting his head over to the chefs on the table. With a sigh, Leon nodded and took the kitchen knife and slit the throat of the herb cutter next to him. The stew cook’s attention sprung up to promptly get knocked down when Leon flung the knife at him before he could scream. The other chameleon caught him as his body slumped down and dragged him over to a nearby oven to stuff him in. Leon handed him the other corpse and marched back into the freezer. The man had just been sitting in the corner the whole time, it seemed. He let out a weak grin when he saw him. “Need to cool off after the big guy-†Leon yanked a nearby leg of lamb and silenced him with a whack to the jaw. He toppled downwards until he yanked him by the collar and whirled him in the opposite direction, unleashing squeals all the way through. He tumbled back to his corner and slumped down into the ground, still creaking out weak signs of life. With one hand gripped around the freshly blooded leg of lamb, he hoisted the employee with his off hand and dragged out from the corner. The man squirmed and gagged in his grasp, dozing out of consciousness but making futile attempts to push through it. “Please . . . put me down . . .†Leon stopped in his tracks and looked around the icebox, focusing his gaze on one of the meat hooks. His scaly lips shriveled into a malicious grin. “It’d be my pleasure.†1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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