Ice Fox 111 Posted July 8, 2007 Share Posted July 8, 2007 Recently written, it was originally meant to be part of an Anthology of short stories based on Star Fox characters. The idea was to portray them in a different light, however the project fell through and I posted it on FF.Net and now I post it here. {WARNING} Contains: Violence, Use of drugs. Happy? By Ice Fox 111 --- Is there even a single way I am happy? The thought struck him deep as a throwing knife, the lethal end twirling through the air and ever advancing until it met its target, severing and slicing muscle tissue and nerve endings. Abnormal as it was for him to turn so pessimistically philosophical, Fox McCloud found himself miserably lying wide awake in the back of the aerial freighter he was being transported in. The only thing that he could hope to look at was the ceiling, tinted dark blue and cloaked in the shadow of endless space seeping in from the solitary barred window. The engines hummed softly as he and his captors accelerated through the void, if there were any place in all the known universes to think and delve deep into one’s self, this was where to do it. For the first time in his life, Fox felt defeated. He and his loyal crew of friends had almost always emerged victorious from any assignment they were given by General Pepper, whether it was to disarm a ticking bomb or to free Venomian slaves from their rat-infested paddocks. But this time he had failed, and the errors of his actions now screamed through Lylat as would a banshee through an ethereal manifestation of death. Ever since the vulpine was a kit, he had looked up to his father. What an amazing thing he was, kind, resolved, and always willing to do what was right. But that was before he learned what it really took for his father to do so: death, and a plentiful amount. As he grew up he would ask questions to his dad like “Daddy…why did you shoot him?” which then, as Fox got older, progressed to “Dad, how are you a good guy if you do what the bad guys do?” and finally ended up at “Father, how do soldiers killing each other solve the world’s problems?”. Each and every time he was met with answers that amounted to James stating that it was what had to be done, and that someday Fox would see what he meant, but for right now not to worry about it. But now he understood what James meant…he had been carefully lying all these years, and he had fell for it every single time. Upon the time of Fox’s 18th birthday, his father presented him application forms for the Lylatian Academy for Aerial and Ground-Based Combat. He had stood stock-still, eyes dull and hopeless as he stared at the documents held out to him muscles tense with disagreement. “Take them, son…I know what is best for you. You have the blood, body, and soul for saving millions of lives and making yourself into a famous and successful soldier.” James said determinedly. The teenage vulpine said nothing, silently running the prospect through his mind a million times, the idea of being famous and successful appealed very much to him. But he still couldn’t get rid of this odd opposition to the idea of applying. In the end, he took the forms in paw, filled them out, and sealed his destiny forever. They taught him everything there was to be taught, aerial maneuvers, ground-based squad tactics, how to kill a man with his bare paws; but now it all seemed evident as to what he and every other student had been learning: how to numb himself. Every day they were asked for what they fight, and were required to respond “the greater peace that is Corneria”, and every day the statement was pounded further and further into their minds. It was alright to kill, after all, they fought for justice and the “greater peace” which was all worth fighting for…eventually they came to believe this and it became the truth. This was the breeding ground of almighty hatred. As Fox raised his paws into the air above him absentmindedly, the pale light hit them and illuminated what was truly truth. They became mangled, and covered with a seemingly endless amount of blood droplets, each one possessing a face and with that a soldier, a family, and endless grief. Like miniature red crystals they pulsed, writhed, and screamed, moving about his paws as would slithering snakes. The vulpine turned the appendages left and right, observing the totality of the crimson coating, eyes still and dilated at this atrocity of the soul. But when he blinked, it went away, and Fox was left with perfectly clean paws that were somehow haunting in the way they seemed so innocent. With that his thoughts reflected upon the torture he underwent before being captured. The agony. It was not physical, striking him within the mind rather than the body, bruising not flesh, but morale, and destroying not bone, but awareness. And this is exactly why the Agony tortured him far worse than any sadistic interrogator could...it devoured from the inside out. Fox quivered as he recalled the countless experiences he had with the Agony, as if the sheer memory of the pain experienced then was enough to kill him...but who knew if it really couldn't? The injury was where it started, and what an injury it was. Every waking moment he spent on the hospital bed was wrought with pain, and to think a single bullet could do such a thing. Such a small piece of lead, harmless as anything when alone...but when propelled through the ribcage of a living beast, it was an entirely more cruel little thing. The vulpine remembered the horrible side effects; blackouts, blood coming out when he vomited or shit...and the hallucinations...they were the absolute worst. Everywhere Fox looked, things morphed, twisted, and seemed to possess a life of their own. And they all wanted him dead. The sheets of his bed became crawling, biting spiders, his pillow turned to a live beating heart that sent tremors in his brain with every contraction. But strangest of all, he recalled his mattress somehow growing spikes, but only when he chose to lie in it. They stabbed into his back, and Fox could feel all too well the pain of his spinal cord being pierced in several places. Then the doctors gave him The Needle, sticking it into his arm and pressing down on the syringe and pumping an unknown substance into his bloodstream. But The Needle made him feel fantastic...sure his hallucinations were still there, but his time they were good. It was like time slowed down, and Fox saw everything in it’s own true vibrant splash of color. Such a breath of fresh air felt wonderful...but when the air ran out he had to get The Needle again, then it was back to the utopia of purity. -- When he was released from the hospital, Fox had resumed going about his normal activity, escorting valuable cargo and the like. But at evening of each day he always had to take The Needle again...sure he wasn’t really supposed to have been taking the needle outside of the hospital...but what harm could it do? A week after his release everything changed. That was when the Agony showed up. It clung to him like maggots on dead flesh, never leaving him out of it’s sight, deceptive in it’s soft form. At first he was able to put up with it, after all, The Needle made it go away, if only for a little while. He dismissed it from his mind for a while, considering it just a nusiance and more of a cut than a bone fracture. Every day it got worse and worse, the cut growing deeper and deeper, digging into his head, cleaving through his skull and finally...touching his brain. One night he decided to end it. He would kill the Agony and it would never bother him again. Yes, that was it! Fox first surprised the Agony by approaching it instead of the other way around, and for the first time it spoke, “What are you doing?” He ignored this, carefully drawing a knife from his belt, knuckles white from the amount of grip he was applying. Then he struck. He pounced upon it and stabbed over and over, it’s blood saturating his fur and obstructing his view. It screamed as he killed it, and he relished those screams, high-pitched and terrified. Finally it would never bother him again. Black. The only thing that he could hope to look at was the ceiling, tinted dark blue and cloaked in the shadow of endless space seeping in from the solitary barred window... From his waist he withdrew the blade, slender and sharp it was both his beginning of inner release and physical demise, playing both the role of angel and demon in one fell swoop. The angel had taken away the Agony, and for that he smiled; the demon had landed him here, and for that he cried. The beautiful weapon glistened, covered in coagulated blood…and just a trace of cerulean fur… --- I hope you've enjoyed what some have called a sinister spin on the character of Fox McCloud. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
PuffNStuff Posted July 8, 2007 Share Posted July 8, 2007 YES! I love it! but dwight won't, LOL! this makes me smile on the inside :lol: Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ice Fox 111 Posted July 8, 2007 Author Share Posted July 8, 2007 Well I told him he could ban me if it broke the rules. With an entire four forum posts, it's not like i'll have too much to lose...hope I don't get banned, though, all the same. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TakeWalker Posted July 9, 2007 Share Posted July 9, 2007 Okay, the ending gave me some small amount of internal glee. Curse you. I really love the bleak worldview as you account Fox's history and molding in the Academy. The part where it changes to the drug abuse was a little odd, but I think that's handled well, too. "The Agony" is a delicious phrase. Now for the "speaking as a mod" part. Please place your warning (or at least a rating) in the topic of the thread, and don't forget to include "swearing". Thank you, and have a nice day. ;) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
PuffNStuff Posted July 10, 2007 Share Posted July 10, 2007 Dark fics like this, are the ones that make me smile inside. YAY! Happy little kitties..... MEOWing for dear life as they are burning alive, slowly by the approching flame that already engulfs half of it pathetic little frame. The smell of burnt hair and flesh saturates the air, making all those near by become aware of the situation. But little can they do as the few kittens that are still alive are already being eaten by the flameing beast of the fire. Oops.... brainfart! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ice Fox 111 Posted July 10, 2007 Author Share Posted July 10, 2007 Congratulations, you are now classified as a follower of Ice Fox...or to use the medical term, "criminally insane". Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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