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Chapter Text

            The butt of his cigarette burned in the darkness of their damaged carrier, dimly lit by what few internal lights they could afford to replace.  He had meant to swing by and buy a lamp the next time he docked in Katina or Papetoon but it had slipped his mind for some reason.  Wolf sat in his chair, its faded violet cushioned back supporting him as he relaxed.  Banishing the tension from his body, he permitted himself a moment to let the panic soak him, taking a drag from his cigarette before exhaling the chaos and smoke both.  In the moments after, he began rebuilding himself, starting with his own goals and ideals. 

            “Is it true that he’s dead?” Pigma asked from the table, still bandaged from head-to-toe from their last scrap with the Star Fox team. 

            Wolf’s single violet eye flitted towards the hog, disdain in his wrinkled muzzle.  Yet he said nothing, taking another drag from his cigarette and puffing it out.  A few taps and it showered embers onto the metallic floor of their melancholy mobile hideout.  They faded almost instantly, swept away by Wolf’s boot.  He turned and glanced at his monitor, wondering how fast the Cornerians would find them if they remained in orbit around the smoldering green Venom.  Would they dare send an extermination squad to destroy the rest of Andross’s forces?  They were all but operating on fear now, the fall of their glorious and noble leader creating a power vacuum that was beyond painful to watch.  What was left of their forces were scrambling for power and order.  But it was futile. Wolf knew it all too well.  They would fight amongst themselves and the Cornerians would swoop in with their coup de grâce. 

            That was, of course, assuming they stayed and Wolf was not too keen on it.

            “Seems that way,” Wolf answered Pigma, knowing that Leon did not care enough to spare him words and that… Well, others were grieving.

            He looked to Andrew, sitting by the window, staring into the darkness of space with a look that Wolf knew all too well.  Hopelessness had overridden all of Andrew’s functions; since the news of Dr. Andross’s demise had been announced, he had barely uttered a word.  The despair was enough to make a man drink but Wolf knew of the four of them sitting in that room, he was the sanest.  Alcohol wasn’t going to make things better, no matter how much his tongue craved the burn of whiskey. 

            “So what’s next?” Pigma asked the silent room.  Wolf could have thrown the empty Cornerian soda can that had been plaguing his desk for the last three weeks at the selfish hog when he dared to speak.  Yet, he cautioned himself, knowing the sleezebag was a wild enough card to turn them all in for a pretty penny and a clean slate from the Cornerian Army. 

            “First things first,” Wolf said, still puffing away on his cigarette.  He stretched out his legs, resting them on a nearby storage chest.  “We need to get the ships repaired and that ain’t gonna happen on Venom.”

            His single eye swept across the other three faces, sensing little response from any of them.  Leon nodded—ever the perfect soldier, unaffected by any of the loss, the bitterness of defeat.  He kept moving and Wolf liked that.  Pigma was quivering in his chair, clearly restless at their grim situation.  And Andrew… Wolf gave a sigh of pity, snuffing his cigarette on his desk. 

            “We’ve got options.  I know a few guys on Eladard that can patch us up without a problem.  Just have to keep our heads low ‘til we get there,” Wolf shrugged.  “Once we get there, I think we might be able to get a few leads and keep goin’.”

            “Keep going?” Andrew asked, looking over his shoulder. “W-what do you mean by that?”

            “War’s over, kiddo.  Andross is dead.  The rest of the army’s gonna split before the Cornerians can get to ‘em.  If they’re smart, they’ll run for bandit country.  Papetoon wildlands, Eladard underworld, heck, there’s even a few space stations out there they could hide at.  But it doesn’t matter.  Venom’s done,” Wolf said, looking to the despondent heir.   

            He’s grown since Andross gave him to me but he’s still got a lot to learn about the world. 

            “Eladard’s fine by me, I got a few connections there too,” Pigma said with an eager hand rub.  Leon all but scoffed at that, looking towards the vastness of space outside without comment. 

            “Leon?  Got anything cute to add to the conversation?” Wolf asked, raising his bushy grey brows.

            “I care not where we go.  Before his death, Andross put his faith in you.  Thus, I shall go wherever you do,” Leon said with a shrug.  He pulled out one of his knives and began to twirl it absent-mindedly.  Wolf pondered if the assassin was contemplating dicing up Pigma.

            “Glad we’re all in agreement,” Wolf shrugged and began to punch in the coordinates to Eladard from his computer on his desk.

            “We’re not,” Andrew said firmly. “We can’t just abandon the troops.  Everything my uncle worked for… All those people that were relying on him.  We can’t just abandon that, Wolf.”

            Out came the sigh that Wolf had been holding, knowing those words would come.  He looked to Andrew, wishing sorely he had not snuffed his cigarette.  He rubbed his forehead, making sure not to disturb his eyepatch.  “You ever been to prison, kid?  It’s not sunshine and rainbows, I’ll tell ya that much.  We try to rally the troops, we stick around here, and we’re past done at that point.” 

            “Is that the great Wolfrik O’Donnell running away from a fight?” Andrew turned to face him, rising up from his position by the window.  His hands had become fists at his sides, his eyes filled with a childish determination that made Wolf almost pity him.  

            “Listen, kid, I don’t like this any more than you do.  But I ain’t gonna go back to Chasma Penitentiary because you got some vendetta against the Star Fox team,” Wolf retorted.

            “How can you say that?  They beat us!  Twice!  And didn’t Fox’s dad put you in prison to begin with?” Andrew asked incredulous and enraged.

            “So did that guy,” Wolf jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Pigma, who waved awkwardly with an uncomfortable chuckle. “And do you see me pounding his face in with my fists?  Naw, because it’s work.  It’s business.  Ya just gotta stay profess—”

            “What about the guy that took your eye, Wolf?  What about—” Andrew began.

            Wolf rose from his chair, a snarl resonating from him and his lips pulled back to bare his fangs. “Sit down and pipe down, kid.  You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about so just shove off.”  Ears back he glared the young heir down until he conceded, tearing his gaze away with a teenager-like scowl and scoff.

            “Why is it different for you, then?  Why can’t it be the same for me?” Andrew asked with an edge in his voice.

            “Because the guy that did this,” Wolf pointed at his eyepatch, the whites of his teeth still bared. “Wasn’t the entire goddamn fucking Cornerian Army.  We’re pulling outta here and you better learn to like it real quick.  The world doesn’t wait.”  He began to input the coordinates to Eladard, feeling his rage slowly fizzling out.  Though Andrew had returned to his chair, he could feel his brooding wrath from the other side of the room.

            What’s he gonna do?  He can’t go back to Corneria now.  He’s a traitor to the empire and he’s gonna get himself killed if he doesn’t get his head on straight.

            Their rackety Androssian carrier began the jump into hyperspeed, its hull creaking as it lurched forward.  Wolf’s eyes skirted the interior thoughtfully, musing darkly over how their getaway vehicle needed hefty improvements.  He pulled out a piece of paper and began to doodle as he sometimes did when an idea was trying to work itself out of his mind.  A ship was coming to mind, large enough to host their measly crew and yet large enough to store a plethora of vehicles.  He chewed at the pencil in his hand, thinking on the vessel for a few long minutes before inevitably giving up on the drawing, sliding it into a folder on his desk.

            Time ticked on slowly, painfully.  He turned on the radio, letting it play tunes that reminded him of his parents.  It was an old rock station, one that defeated the awkward silence that loomed.  Wolf let his eye wander about only after thirty minutes of the radio, flitting towards Pigma especially, who was rocking back and forth in his desk chair, its back creaking so loudly that Wolf was waiting with bated breath for the hog to tumble onto the ground.  Leon seemed to be waiting for the same thing, leaning forward eagerly in his chair.  Pigma shot him a glare, clearly unamused by his staring, to which the reptile replied by licking his own eyeball with surprising speed.  The hog gave a scoff and went back to playing around on his computer.

            The radio could not blot out the uncomfortableness in the air, but Wolf tried his best to ignore it.  When Andrew got up, unannounced, and left the room, he felt a little more at ease.  Wolf gave a sigh, melting into his chair, and willed the ship to move faster towards Eladard.  He eventually gave up and decided to go to his personal room, trudging his way to the dormitory area.  He passed Andrew’s room by, noting that the door was closed and locked.  The canine gave another sigh and entered his room, plopping down onto the bed.  He closed his eye, not even bothering to throw the covers over himself. 

            Just another day in the business.  People die all the time.  We just keep going.  No sense in mourning.  Happens to everyone one day.

            Something cold pressed against his throat and his single violet eye snapped open, flitting towards the intruder immediately.  He was surprised that the ape had been so quiet; perhaps he had paid attention to his training after all.  Andrew lurked over him, holding a switchblade in one hand, its tip pressing against Wolf’s grey fur.  There was a light in his dark eyes that Wolf recognized; the realization that everything was gone.  It took the one-eyed mercenary back to a time that he did not like to recall.  He wanted to feel bad for Andrew but the infamous leader of Star Wolf could not afford sympathy for the kid.  Not this time.

            “Turn the ship around,” Andrew said coldly.

            “Or what?  You’re gonna stab me?” Wolf growled.

            “I will if I have to,” came the reply, but even Wolf could tell that Andrew’s hands were shaking.

            “You don’t wanna do that, kid,” Wolf sat up slowly, his hands lifting, bent at the elbow.  His sole eye studied the enraged, grief-ridden face of the simian, feeling his own anger boil in his chest.  Andrew was still such a novice, still wet behind the ears and used to keeping his head low in the Cornerian slums.  He had leagues to go before he could even amount to anything in the underground world of Lylat.  Wolf understood this, trying to suppress his own anger for… a reason he could not quite put into words.  Perhaps he wanted to see the kid thrive…? 

            “Turn the ship around!” repeated Andrew Oikonny, teeth gnashed.  The tip of the knife drove further into Wolf’s fur, pricking at his skin.  The mercenary gave no indication that it hurt but his ears were pressing flat against his head. 

            “Oikonny,” Wolf said in a low voice, haggard by his conflicting emotions. “Put the knife down.”

            “Do what I say!  I’m the heir to Venom… I’m your boss!” Andrew began and Wolf gave a laugh.

            “Point out where it says that on the contract.”

            Andrew’s rage manifested in his eyes first, smoldering with the glassiness of tears on their surface.  Wolf moved before he could, however, seizing the ape’s wrist and turning it with such a force that the knife spilled onto the floor with a clatter.  He rose and pushed Andrew back, fur and hackles rising in tandem.  Andrew stumbled back, throwing a hand over his face.  Wolf grabbed his forearm, bearing down upon the kid with a snarl.

            “You’re on my ship, so you’re gonna obey my rules.  In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been doing this for a while now.  So I think I know what this group should do to stay alive right now,” Wolf said vehemently. “You wanna die, you can pilot your fucking Wolfen back to Venom and wait for the Cornerians to come get you.”

            “I…” Andrew began, a quivering mess under Wolf’s shadow.  “I just want…”

            “You wanna do what your uncle did.  Fight the Cornerians for… Social justice, or whatever it was,” Wolf let go of his arm, but did not back away from the ape. “If you wanna get off at Eladard and look around?  Be my guest.  But until then, you’re gonna listen to my rules and do what I say.” 

            Andrew did not reply and Wolf gave a scoff, walking away from the trembling, lost simian. He stooped down, snatching the blade from the ground.  With a finger, he tested the edge, careful not to nick himself.  The canine’s only eye moved back to Andrew, and he added gruffly, “And the next time you think it’s cute to try something like this, I’m gonna dropkick your ass out into the middle of space.  Am I clear?”

            The simian’s head bobbed up and down.  Wolf kept the blade, tucking it into his pocket with a growl, “Now get out.” He watched Andrew go, sulking like a child out the door.  When Wolf shut his door, he gave yet another heavy sigh and wandered to his bed again.  He sat down, rubbing his forehead, careful not to disturb his eyepatch. 

            Specters ate at him, visions of the past drifting within his mind’s eye.  He thought of his crew, the one he had lost in their final raid against the Katinans.  There had been no way to tell that the Cornerians had set a trap for his pirate crew, led by the renowned Star Fox team.  But it did not matter; Wolf blamed himself for their deaths, for his time spent in Chasma Penitentiary on the lost corner of Macbeth.  Had Andross not intervened, Wolf knew he would have been condemned to live the life of a prisoner, mining for the government that had spurned him since the moment he had been born.  In a way, he mourned in that moment, silently staring holes through the wall.  His hands became fists and he exhaled angrily into the air, breath fringed with a growl.  This was twice now that he had lost to the Star Fox team—once against their original carnation and again against the son of James McCloud.  He questioned his own talent, despairing for a few moments before a darker part of himself snapped, telling him to pull himself together. 

            It happens to everyone, remember?  No sense in getting nostalgic, no sense in getting sentimental.  We keep going.

            He had not won every battle or every war, but he had survived, and that was what counted.  Mercenary work was tough and it did not reward the soft or kind-hearted.  Wolf laughed bitterly into the silence of his room, pulling the switchblade from his pocket.  He toyed with it, looking at his reflection cast from the silver of the blade.  His mouth twisted into a savage grin.

            He really almost stabbed me with this.

            Perhaps there was hope for young Andrew Oikonny after all.

Chapter Text

             Deep space was an eerie thing.  Silence had volume, Wolf thought.  It felt heavy.  It felt like defeat.  The stars watched them, judging their path up until this humiliating retreat.  His single violet eye stared back at them, daring them to speak up.  Daring them to tell him where he had gone wrong.  On the run across the Lylat System was better than a cramped cell in Chasma Penitentiary.  There was liberation in the chase, a thrill that coursed his veins.  It burned, it threatened to devour him.  But he would not let it.  His nails nipped lightly at the railing, staring out of the windows at those stars that had seen so much.  Hushed quiet was all his brooding thoughts got in reply and he chose to walk away from them, making for the bridge.

             Their carrier moved with surprising speed, its hull making a strident creak every so often to let the crew within know that it needed a proper repair job.  Wolf just prayed that it would stay together until they landed on Eladard.  He was usually not the type to leave things to faith and gods he could not see.  But on that day, he was feeling exceptionally thankful that they all had not met their end on the toxic surface of Venom. 

              With a whir, the doors slid open and he saw his crew had barely budged since his nap.  His single-eyed gaze swept from Leon to Pigma, who was playing some form of computer card game, and evidently losing against an AI.  The canine gave a soft, amused snort and plopped down into his chair.

             “Did you have a nice nap?” Pigma asked him.

             “Slept like a baby,” Wolf replied with one of his toothy, enveloping grins, the joints of his neck popping as he cocked his head to the side. “A baby that got strapped to a rocket launcher an’ sent careenin’ into a goddamn Cornerian Cruiser.”

             “That good, huh?” Pigma chortled.

             “Andrew has not returned,” Leon observed, glancing past Wolf’s shoulder.

             Wolf thought briefly of their exchange before he had settled into his nap.  Though he thought to let slip what happened, he held his own council and gave the two a mere shrug in reply.  He drummed his fingers against the keys of his computer, logging in and glancing over at his radio.  They were snooping on the Cornerian Army’s frequency—they had been since the war began.  But now it was silence, crackling and unclear.  He breathed a sigh of relief.  Sometimes, no news was good news.

            “Why couldn’t we have snagged some of those teleportation devices?” Pigma said with a throaty ‘harrumph’, his proportionally small arms crossing over his incredibly large torso.  He leaned back in his chair, the support for his back cracking visibly.  If he noticed it, he did not seem to care.  “Woulda made this a lot faster.”

            “ ‘Cause it was either run for our lives or stick around to try to snag some goodies and risk gettin’ blown up along with Andross,” Wolf replied. “I like firework shows all right an’ stuff but I don’t wanna be part of the display, y’know?”

            “So where do we go from here?” Leon asked the question that had been haunting the back of Wolf’s mind. “Once we are finished with the repairs.”

            “We can lay low there for awhile,” Wolf answered. “There’s scum abound there, no one’s gonna rat us out or anything.”

            “Are you certain?  No one trying gain favor with the Cornerians?” Leon asked with arched brows.  “We are bound to be at the top of the Most Wanted list.”

            “Probably,” Wolf said with another shrug. “But we’re gonna run that risk anywhere we go.  I think it’s less likely to happen on Eladard, though, that place is too much of a hive for scumbags.”

            “Then why do the Cornerians let it persist?” Leon frowned.

            “Because it’s all on the down-low, Leon.  D’you know what that means?” Wolf asked, making to light another cigarette.  He fiddled with his lighter, which seemed adamant in refusing to spark.  He gave it a scowl and kept on trying.

            “It means covert,” Leon answered.

            “Exactly.  See, Eladard used to be kinda like Macbeth.  Lots o’ factories, mining facilities… But they sucked up all the resources there.  Left just a big ol’ planet of rock, dirt, and water.  And not the kind o’ rock that the Cornerian Empire wants.  So all these buildings, all these facilities an’ who d’you think runs the place once the Cornerians are done with it?” Wolf asked them.  Pigma was brimming with an answer but the canine pointedly ignored him. “Nobody.  Nobody runs it.”

            “Nobody?” Leon repeated, chewing on the thought with interest.  Two of his thin fingers rubbed the scales of his cheek, swiveling in his chair to face Wolf entirely. 

            “You see, when the Cornerians are done with something, they don’t really care about what’s left.  They’re kinda like… well, they’re kinda like parasites, if I’m honest.  Sure, they claim Eladard’s a part o’ their grand ol’ Empire.  But really?  It’s a used up piece o’ garbage.   They let the scavengers take it.  Better folk crowd there than on the streets of their pristine Corneria City,” Wolf explained, drawing in a deep breath.  He had given up on his lighter, tossing it into the bin over his shoulder with the unspoken vow of buying another once they reached Eladard.  “There’s a few Cornerian officials that oversee the planet.  Not much more than that, though.  They let the people do as they please for the most part.  So long as no one causes too much of a ruckus.”

            “Sounds like they might as well have just not left anyone there at all,” Leon remarked.

            “Just posturin’.  No need to worry about it.  In fact, we’re more liable to get attacked out here than—” Wolfrik O’Donnell’s words were lost in the tremor that ensued, the hull of their rickety aircraft carrier creaking with displeasure.  He lurched forward, stabling himself with the quick grip of his hand on the desk.  Pigma spilled from his chair. Leon leapt up, holding his arms out to either sides to steady himself.   With some difficulty, he made his way to the ship radar, hitting a few keys in.  When the radar suddenly refreshed, Wolf could see a collection of red dots upon the screen, like a bad rash.

            “We’re under attack,” Leon said to the others, as if it was not already obvious enough.

            “Who?” Pigma asked.

            “The Cornerians.”

            The voice came from the doorway, where Andrew stood.  A second tremor coursed through the carrier but he remained standing firm, bracing the wall with a hand.  His dark brown eyes darted to Wolf, remarking sourly, “You thought we could just fly across the Lylat System in an Androssian carrier without any issues?  What were you thinking?”

            “Pipe down, kiddo, or I’ll kick ya out the back doors to deal with ‘em yourself,” Wolf had never been one to fancy being smart-mouthed by an inferior, by a novice.  He rose from his chair.  “Leon, man the port cannons.  Andrew, you take the starboard side.  Pigma, you’re gonna try to get the communications through.  I’ll steer us outta this fucking mess.”

            Wolf sidled into the pilot’s chair, flipping a switch that took it out of automatic.  It cancelled their coordinated, seamless route to Eladard, but it took the damaged carrier into his hands.  From the joystick, he could feel the carrier’s massive physique, could feel it breaking under the weight of a shower of laser fire.  He put the thrusters at max and pressed forward with nary a warning.  Somewhere in the hallway, he heard Andrew and Leon stumbling about, their boots clanking against the metal in a medley of chaos.  He grinned.

            “I’ve got a message coming through.  Should I play it?” Pigma asked over his shoulder.

            “Play it, turn up the volume and let me hear,” Wolf replied without even looking to him.

            He heard the crackling of the speakers, aged and dusty, before the message broke through.  The voice on the other end of the line was not one that Wolf was familiar with.  It was a crusty voice, aged and grave.  Generic, Wolf thought, given the solemn behavior of the Cornerian Army.  They were a rusty, somber lot.  Perhaps that was why he had never bothered to even attempt entering the Cornerian Academy.  That and… well, Wolf had never had the funds for such an endeavor.  Especially as a teenager.

            “This is Cornerian Fleet 5.  State your name and business in this quadrant.  Our scouts have indicated you are an Androssian vessel.  Lack of reply or failure to surrender will result in the termination of you and your crew in two minutes,” barked the voice from the communication channel.

            “When did we get that message, Pigma?” Wolf asked.

            “Uhhh about six minutes ago…” Pigma began.

            “And it’s just now playing!?” Wolf sputtered, looking back at him with a single wide eye. 

            “D-don’t look at me!  We’re lucky this old piece of junk can put us into hyperspace!” Pigma shot back defensively.

            “Aw fuck it.  I didn’t wanna talk to them either,” Wolf retorted.  Even boosting as fast as he could lurch the ship along, he could tell from the stream of lasers zipping around the ship that the Cornerians were gaining on them.  For a moment, his violet eye flitted to the stars streaking by them, ever watching, ever judging.  He cursed them silently.  Cursed their passiveness.  They didn’t care who lived or who died. Steering with one hand, he donned his headset awkwardly, adjusting it with a shrugged shoulder.  “Andrew!  Leon!  How’s it lookin’ out there?”

            “Five cruisers, each with twenty units apiece,” Leon rasped.  “We’re going to lose this one, Wolf.  There’s no way this scrapmetal can make it to Eladard.  Not like this.”

            “Wolf!” Andrew’s voice cut in, sharper than he had ever heard it before. “Wolf, I have an idea.  But you’re gonna have to swap with me.”

            “Swap with you?” Wolf asked, brows knitting themselves with concern… and disdain.  Was Andrew suggesting he was a better pilot?  His pride was bruised but as the carrier rocked again, the infamous leader of Star Wolf resigned to his fate.  Better to burn out in space than go back to Chasma, after all.  “Fine.  Get yer ass up here, then.”

            He handled the ship, pressing it at its breakneck speed until Andrew stumbled into the bridge.  As he moved for the controls, Wolf kept his hand thrusting the joystick forward until the moment Andrew’s hand seized them.  The canine did not get sentimental often—or so he liked to believe of himself.  Yet in that moment, staring into Andrew’s determined eyes, he felt the world quiver.  It was something beyond the lasers piercing holes through their ship.  Something beyond resolve.  He saw fragments of Andross in the boy’s face like a faint ghost that would not stop haunting him.  Passion.  Remorseless anger.  Dedication.  Resilience.

            Yes, there is hope for this kid after all.

            “Our lives are in your capable hands, kid,” Wolf said over his shoulder as he made for the cannon controls.  “Don’t get us killed!”

            “I’ll do my best!” Andrew said firmly.

            Wolf sprinted down the small hallway, his shoulder scraping the walls with every hit from the Cornerians that struck true.  He grabbed the railing of the ladder that led upwards into a small cockpit situated on the side of the carrier.  He was thankful that he’d sent Leon to the port side, not wanting to have gone to there.  It was Pigma’s preferred spot during a deep space chase.  The man was a fine enough pilot, but he had a bad habit of leaving his potato chip bags everywhere he sat.

            The moment that he grabbed control over the cannons, he could see the hopelessness that they faced.  Leon’s count had been right.  The Cornerians were in full-force behind them, trailing after their wounded vessel like a hyena after a dying antelope.  His nails dug into the cushions of the cannon’s joystick with fear.  He put on the headset connected to the cannon control panel and cleared his throat to announce his presence.

            “We should consider turning and surrendering if this doesn’t work,” Pigma was caught saying on his own headset.  “I’m lookin’ at the shields and we’re at about 30% power.”

            “Put it all in the rear, if you can—” Wolf began and there was a chortling, almost gagging noise.  “Shut up.  You get what I mean, block our tail.”

            “On it, boss!” Pigma replied, a phantom laugh still plaguing his voice.  Wolf scowled and flitted his ears back, a growl on his breath.

            He swiveled about in the cockpit’s chair, pointing the cannon at a few Cornerian fighters that were closing in.  When his finger clasped the trigger, he watched them veer low under the lethal crimson laser.  Wolf pursued them the best he could, clipping one’s wing and watching it fall into nothingness, burning like a reckless comet.  A few green lasers crashed into the metal near the windshield, the shaking that resulted so powerful that Wolf had to stop firing for a moment, trying desperately to keep his bearings. 

            “Andrew, how’d you—” Pigma’s voice cut through the static of the radio. “How the hell did you manage that!?  And why the hell didn’t you say anything sooner!?”

            “I-I wasn’t sure it was going to work,” Andrew began uncertainly. 

            “Talk to me, boy, what’ve you done?” Wolf asked.

            But there was no answer.  Wolf turned his head towards the front of the ship, peering as best as he could outside.  Though he struggled, he could not see what they were talking about, his single-eyed gaze sweeping about their surroundings.  He did not notice it until they were upon it—a massive portal carved from the void of space itself.  Its maw was purple and pink, its edges fringed with sparking orange. 

            “Holy shit!” Wolf stammered before they were swallowed whole, sucked into a land of colors, pulsing like a heartbeat.  He could feel the hull accelerating and his fingers formed a vicelike grip upon the control stick. 

            Within the portal, there was no concept of time.  At least, that was what Wolf thought.  It was a place of color and light—a dance of everything chaotic, fleeting as life was, surreal as the calm after a destructive hurricane.   It was nonsensical, where they were; a wonderland from some child’s fairytale, or some druggie’s high.  He watched everything bend down the wormhole—lights and colors both.  Flashing.  Beating.  Pulsing.  A heartbeat to something that felt far, far greater than he could ever be.

            And then, empty space.  As sudden as their devouring had begun, it ended.  And the Cornerians were nowhere in sight. 

            “O-okay,” Wolf began, each word crisp and staccato.  His emotions were colliding together like waves drawn by different currents. “I want to have a meeting in the bridge.  Right.  Now.”

            He stood up, setting the headset on the arm rest of the chair, hooking it so that it would not clatter onto the ground.  As he made his way to the bridge, he straightened his jacket and his eyepatch both.  As hard as Wolf tried to be mad, he was relieved beyond anything else.  Beneath his relief, however, was broiling fury.  Fury that would see his hands around Andrew’s neck, if he did not check himself.  When the doors slid open to the bridge, he found that the other three had already congregated, Leon and Pigma both gaping at Andrew.  Their chatter ceased the moment that they saw him, falling into disquiet.

            “So you brought a teleportation device with you,” Wolf said, picking at one of his own nails as he walked up, gait fluid and lax. “And you didn’t tell us.” Everything about his tone was matter-of-fact, as if not for debate.  It was calm.  Nonchalant.  Stifling and drowning out the bitterness that had filled his mouth.

            “Yeah,” Andrew said.  The same firmness from before was still there.  The same foolhardiness that had made him try to stab Wolf, too.  But past the confidence, the passion, Wolf could see that he was beginning to waver.  His strength waning, his fearlessness dying.  The canine pressed his glare into the simian, watching him slowly wither.  At last, Andrew confessed, “Okay, I’ll admit it.  I wasn’t sure it was gonna work.  I had it installed last minute.  Just in case… In case something bad happened.”

            “Like being on the run from the Cornerians, or y’know, your uncle going—” Pigma began but was cut off by a sharp elbow from Leon, of all people, who gave him a spiteful, dagger-sharp glare.  “Er… point is, you saved it for something bad.”

            “Well, it paid off.  I just wanna know where the hell you took us,” Wolf replied. “Gonna ignore the fact that this coulda saved us a hell of a lotta trouble to begin with.  If I keep thinkin’ about it, I’m gonna be tempted to wring your fuckin’ neck.”  He dropped into the chair planted firmly still near his desk and computer.  “Pigma, stop squealin’ about and give me the report.”

            “I took us far away.  That’s all I could think to do,” Andrew sighed. “I-it’s not like I had a whole lot of time to think about it, okay?”

            “I’ll give you that much,” Wolf considered, feeling a tad bit merciful. 

            “Ehhhh…” Pigma fiddled with the controls, looking over the radar.  He tabbed the radius, scanning outward.  “Looks like we’re low on fuel and headed towards Titania.”

            “Well, that’s not too off course,” Wolf scratched his chin.  “Eladard’s just a few hops after that.  We can make it with the fuel, right?”

            “Probably,” Pigma’s head bobbed up and down in confirmation.  “Just need to be conservative.”

            “Our shields are low, though.  15%,” Leon chimed in.  “Looks like we took heavy fire in some areas.  I’d be surprised if we could sell this junk off for 200 Lylatian Credits.”

            “Who says we’re sellin’ it?” Wolf asked, raising his brows. “It’s an old piece of junk, but it’s our piece of junk.  Besides, we’re gonna need it sooner or later to get off the planet and do jobs.  We’re not gonna find much on-planet.  Like I said, you don’t find good folk in Eladard.”

            “Besides, I heard that the Androssian logo is gonna be considered vintage real, real soon,” Pigma added, scathing and looking dead at Andrew, who merely shot him a nasty glare in reply and rolled his eyes.

            When they passed by the desert planet of Titania, Wolf looked out at its menacing red eye.  Hands together, his fingers interwoven within each other, he glared down at the feral wasteland, a vague growl in each exhale.  One of his ears went back and he forced himself to glance at his computer.  Privately, he pulled up a tab—a direct message to Leon, who only sat a few feet away, at his own computer.  His fingers drummed softly against the keys, composing the message and sending it before he could be interrupted.  It read:

            Leon,

            When you have the chance, can you pull up the communication log?  Look back to when we took off from Venom.

 

            There was something that just did not sit right.  He paused a moment, trying not to make his attention towards Leon noticeable.  When the lizard tossed a covert look in Wolf’s direction, the canine gave a very slight nod.  Dread was stirring in the pits of Wolf’s stomach.  He earnestly hoped it was just his paranoia talking. 

Chapter Text

            Eladard was where dreams went to die.  Wolf remembered the day he had set foot onto its rocky, unforgiving surface.  The metal of the ramp from the carrier had creaked so loud it felt it had pierced through his eardrums.  When it thudded into the rickety dock that they had set up for newcomers, it felt like an earthquake.  He had steadied himself with a hand, his other occupied with a back slung over his shoulder.  Back then, he had not been alone.  He had clung to his sister and brother as though they were driftwood and he was drowning in a dark water ocean.  He had been the middle child, the older of the two boys—but still tragically young to have been shoved onto the transporter to Eladard.  His sister had wept since the day they left Papetoon.  So he had to act like he was the oldest.  He had to act like he was the strongest.  And perhaps he was.

            “Wolf.”  His brother was named Ralph.  A young, brown-eyed child, barely even seven years old, still carrying the ratty doll that their aunt had sewn them.  It was in the shape of a dog, floppy-eared, grey, and stained white.  His voice shivered like a cold wind, “Is this our new home?”

            “Yeah, kiddo, this is where we’re gonna live now,” Wolf had grinned at his brother, a very forced mask of glee.  He tried to keep his false enthusiasm up, but it was waning rapidly.  His violet eyes moved to his sister, Tala, who had her arms crossed over her chest, breathing out a shaky sigh.  He did not catch her eye but he read her clear as crystal.

            When they had stepped onto the docks, his eyes had turned to the sky.  Clouds smeared against the sky, jagged and brittle in appearance, as if they were depictions of ice.  Beyond that, there was endless blue, pale and soft, unlike the rest of Eladard.  Titania was close enough to remind him of everything that had happened before.  It loomed over them, daunting them.  Wolf clutched his bag tightly as he looked up at the sky, giving a sigh before joining the rest of the gathered misfits on the docks.

            “When are we gonna find Auntie Lupa?” Ralph asked.

            “Shhh,” was all Tala said, gently placing a hand on the child’s back and urging him forward.  Wolf could still feel the lump in his throat, over a decade later, choking the life and youth from him.  He had taken Ralph by the hand and had started walking towards the dismal city of Corona.  Towards destiny.  He could never have known what Eladard would hold for him.

            There was nothing Wolf could say to describe how it felt to return to Eladard.  As they stepped out from the breaking Androssian carrier, he felt nostalgia in the most bitter sense.  It was not a homecoming, but it was something of that nature.  His eye swept across the port, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat.  It had been so many years since he had set foot on the craggy, desolate planet that he barely recognized it.  It had grown somehow, despite the absence of strict Cornerian rule and a dying economy.  His single eye swept towards the other ships docked nearby.  A few of them were modified Civil War Cornerian carriers, the emblem of the empire vaguely scratched off.  He gave a snort, shaking his head, checking his belt without even a glance down.  His blaster hung at his side, his left hand seizing a bag that held some basic necessities—a bit of food, a bit of water, some extra clothes.  The other three had gathered some of their belongings in a similar fashion, ever prepared for the worst. 

            “Keep your wits about you,” he muttered to the other three over his shoulder and stepped off of the landing ramp and onto the dock. Each step Wolf took down the ramp was flooded with confidence and festering resentment.  He had hoped to never return here, if he could help it.  But desperate times called for desperate measures.

            “Where are we headed?” Andrew asked him but Wolf did not reply.  Some things were better shown than told.

            A goon clad in a sloppy Cornerian uniform walked up to him.  It had what Wolf hoped were dirt stains on the front, a few holes and rips here and there.  The man had a hard eye.  He was a jackal, standing a head and a half shorter than Wolf, who quirked a brow at the officer, as if daring him to say something.

            “Got an ID?” the offier asked, though his weasley voice made Wolf think he was only doing this because it was his job. 

            “Yeah,” Wolf pulled out his blaster, sticking it to the officer’s chest. “This guy.  You want the details or is this—” he shoved it further into the officer’s chest. “—just fine?”

            The officer’s eyes flitted down to the blaster jutting into his chest, a low growl resonating from his throat.  He held up his hands and backed away.  Wolf kept the gun trained on the officer until he was at a far enough distance to not be a bother anymore.  With a confident smirk, he glanced over at the other three and continued out of the hanger.

            When they stepped into the sun, Wolf shielded his eye from Lylat’s rays, sweeping his gaze over the streets of Corona.  The buildings that had once blotted out the sky were decaying.  Windows were grimy, some broken through, letting the crisp air in.  A few shops were broken down, their rooves missing and replaced with tarps.  People sat on the sides of the road, some in tattered clothes, some already drunk despite it being only an hour past noon.  Wolf gave a snort, shoving his hands into his pockets, never straying far from his blaster.

            “Some things never change,” Pigma remarked, a rueful twinge to his voice. “Same grimy place it was the last time I was here.  Same drunkards, same stench…”

            “You?  Complaining about stench?” Leon jabbed.

            “Shaddap,” Wolf tossed over his shoulder. “Keep your cool.  And glare down anyone that glares at you first.  That’s how you stay alive here.”

            “What a hellhole…” Andrew remarked, low and under his breath but loud enough to warrant a swivel from Wolf’s left ear.  The canine gave a smirk—that sort that told young Andrew that he had barely seen the tip of the iceberg. 

            “Heh, so who’s this contact you’ve got in mind?” Pigma asked.

            “An old friend of mine that got me outta some trouble a few years back,” Wolf replied. “He’s a good guy.  A bit rough so watch yerself.”

            “He got a name?” Pigma prompted.

            “Everybody’s got a name,” Wolf retorted with the flick of his tipped tail.  Pigma’s scowl chased him a few paces down the street before the portly hog began to lumber after him. 

            The four wandered the broken streets until they came to a building made of pure steel.  Rust and wear shown at the corners, the plates bolted together with mechanical precision.  The roof was still intact, dome shaped with a suspiciously large dent on its northern side.  Wolf glanced at the door, a little tilted with a hinge broken at the top.  When he went to open the door, it appeared stuck before he gave it a hefty pull, forcing it open.

            When he stepped in, he was caught in the immediate scent of metal, rust, and above it all, the sheer amount of time that had passed—an ageless, yet nostalgic smell.  It reminded him of his grandparents, folk that he had not spared a thought towards since he was a child.  The aroma was a heavy musk, not unpleasant but not sweet to the senses.  It washed over him, spilling into the open air of Eladard’s capital city.  He stepped inside, inhaling the stale air and glancing about with his single eye at all of the piles of junk that sat about. 

            The shop was tiny, its walking space very sparse and framed by random items—slabs of metal, floor panels from some decommissioned ship, toolboxes upon toolboxes, a few filing cabinets, and other various items, some of which seemed so bent and broken that Wolf could not even identify them.  At the back of the room, there was a counter, made of wood that had seen too many knives dug into it.  Wolf walked purposefully up to it, his hand slamming the bell on the counter.

            “What kind of place is this?” Leon asked disdainfully.

            “A junkyard?” Andrew asked, looking equally as unenthusiastic as his chameleon comrade. 

            “Don’t touch anything,” Wolf advised them sharply, leaning against the counter.  His ear turned in the direction of the shop keeper, a crocodile that stood a half-head shorter than him.  He sported a growing beer belly, just enough to give a curve under his greasy white tank top.  His jeans were torn at the knees, and not in the posh way Cornerians styled them.  His cap was on backwards and his scales were stained to his elbows with grime, grease, and dirt.  In one hand, there was a stained rag.  In his other hand, there was a screwdriver.

            “Well, I’ll be,” the shop keeper said in a thick rural accent. “If it ain’t ol’ Wolfrik O’Donnell.  The Space Pirate.”

            “Not these days, Lenny,” Wolf said with a crooked half-smile. “Been dabblin’ in some other stuff lately.”

            “Well, clear as day it ain’t goin’ right else you’d be off this shithole planet,” Lenny retorted. “I thought ya said ya were never comin’ back.”

            “I was nineteen years old and on the run from the police,” Wolf shrugged. “Times change, Lenny.  People change.”

            Lenny gave a snort, his large mouth twisted in a frown of disbelief.  Two of his teeth jutted out with some thought and he leaned his elbow against the counter, cleaning off the screwdriver with the rag.  “Maybe ya came back to finally pay off yer damn debt?”

            “The one you weren’t gonna hold against me?” Wolf’s ears flicked back, one of his hands touching his chest. “Or did I remember that wrong?”

            “I didn’t say anything about that,” Lenny shook the screwdriver at him for emphasis. “Now why don’t ya remember ya damn manners and introduce me to yer little kiddie gang ya got goin’ on over there, eh?”

            “Alright, alright.  This is Leon Powalski.  Pigma Dengar’s on his left, and Andrew Oikonny’s past him,” Wolf said, gesturing to each member of his motley crew. “Crew, this is Leonard Nilo, he’s my ex-boss back in the day.”  The crew gave their awkward “hellos” and Lenny responded with a grunt.

            He doesn’t seem pleased… but he doesn’t seem displeased.  He really wasn’t expecting me to pay off that debt, was he…?

Wolf flicked an ear to the side, testing the waters carefully, “We’re the Star Wolf team.  Maybe you’ve heard of us?”

            Lenny snorted again, setting down the items he was carrying. “I mighta heard a thing or two ‘bout a former space pirate leading an army for the fucking crazy monkey-king on Venom.”

            Wolf could sense Andrew tense up behind him but before the simian could speak up, Wolf intervened, “Yeah, well, money’s money and they broke me outta Chasma over on Macbeth, so I can’t complain too much.  Except now.  When my carrier’s been shot to shit by some Cornerians.”

            “And lemme guess, ya want me to fix it up for ya?” Lenny raised a scaly brow. “Sounds like yer typical runaway kiddo.  Comes back with his tail tucked when things go south, like ya didn’t tell him it was a bad idea.”

            “Oh c’mon,” Wolf huffed. “Shit happens, you know how it goes.”

            “Shit happens to you a lot,” Lenny pointed out. “Ya shoulda done what I told you all those years ago.  Told the police what happened an’ all.  Ya coulda cut a deal.”

            “We’re not discussin’ this.  Not right now.  Not in front of the kiddos… and, er, Pigma, I guess,” Wolf permitted his voice to grow in confidence and assertion, looking Lenny square into his dark eyes. “You still scrappin’?”

            “Ain’t shit to do here but scrap,” Lenny replied icily.  “Some o’ us don’t commit fucking murder then run out on our job an’ loved ones.”

            Ouch.

            He could feel the trio behind him brimming with interest at the story.  Wolf’s nails rapped against the bruised wooden counter, staring down Lenny evenly.  His grey fur prickled under the weight of his former boss’s glare, feeling it rise with his nerves and emotions.  Leonard had never tested him like this before—perhaps time had made the old codger even more bitter.  Wolf had not thought it possible.  But if Leonard was going to deny them any form of favor, then he knew they were going to be in a tough spot trying to patch up their carrier. 

            “So I burned you,” Wolf said, studying Lenny’s face with careful calculation.  “Left you to deal with my mess.  I told you I’d make it up to you. And I will!”

            “How?” Lenny asked.

            “You need some scrappers for a week?  I’m sure I still got it in me,” Wolf offered and Lenny gave a laugh.

            “Wolf, ya know I got more scrappers than I know what to do wit’.  Ever since the mines closed down an’ the rich folk packed ship to go home, it’s been a slow as fuck,” Lenny shrugged. “I need somethin’ a bit more eh… difficult, I guess ya could say.”

            “Oh yeah?” Wolf raised a brow, but did not hide the apprehension in his voice.

             “Ya remember ol’ Archie?” Lenny asked—the stupidest question Wolf had heard in his life.  Of course he remembered Archie.  Who could forget him?  A lumbering giant of a bear, an old ruffian out from the Cornerian outskirts, the wildlands that had thus-far staved off the urban invasion.  He was a ruthless crimelord, his massive paw dipped into a variety of trades.  Wolf had wondered if the old thug was still on the wasted Eladard.  If he’d had money to spare, he would have gambled that Archie had left long ago, when the proper Cornerian officers had.

            “Yeah, what about ‘em?” Wolf asked.

            “He took somethin’ from me.  ‘Bout a year ago, I think.  A silver necklace.  It’s got an opal, dark as night with a flurry of sparkles on it.  Like stars.  I want it back,” Lenny had a hard look in his eye, the sort that Wolf had seen before—years ago. 

            “A necklace?” Andrew could be heard somewhere in the back, sounding skeptical. 

            “Yeah, a necklace!” Lenny scowled at him, daggers in his midnight eyes. “Yer gonna head up to his joint up the hill and yer gonna get it back.”

            “I’m still caught up on Archie Ursus still livin’ out here of all places.  I thought he’d be gone by now,” Wolf remarked, staring evenly at Lenny. 

            You old scaled bastard, you know I can’t just walk up to Archie and demand something from him.  He’s gonna remember me.  He’s gonna remember what happened last time.

            “Well, the Cornerians left so he’s the ruling tyrant now.  Unofficially, o’ course.  There’s still some Cornerian Defense Force goons here but they got bought out a long time ago,” Lenny retorted. “He’s settled in an old manor now.  Overlookin’ Corona.  Fancies himself a new title now—Baron Archie.”

            Wolf’s single eye rolled with exaggerated annoyance.

            “Anyways, I can do whatever ya want wit’ yer carrier if ya give me the necklace back.  Hell, I’ll fix it so good the fucking dogs won’t even know it was part o’ that madman’s rebellion.  Whatcha say there, O’Donnell?  Sound like a deal?” Lenny asked, offering his rough, scaled hand.

            You know I can’t say no.  But you also know I want to say no with every fiber of what I’ve got left in me.

            “Don’t got much else to lose, I suppose,” Wolf lied through his teeth, knowing the last time he had tangled with the belligerent bear and his cohorts, he had nearly lost everything.  He had climbed from the pits of hell since then, one shaky grasp at a time.  Absent-mindedly, the canine adjusted his eyepatch, the tell-tale traces of scarring around his missing eye visible.  When he clasped Lenny’s hand, he could feel the shiver of fate in the stale air, chilling him down to the bone. 

            “Heh.  You can stay out in the dorms tonight if ya want.  The boys have all gone out for missions.  Won’t be back ‘til the day after tomorrow, and that’s if they don’t hit up the bars on their way home,” Lenny gestured out the window, where a cluster of steel buildings sat among the trash and scrapmetal, systematically organized in Leonard’s chaotic way.  Wolf cast a glance out the fogged window, a strange creeping feeling in his chest—darkened dread with a hint of bitterness.

            “Are you… sure we can’t find an inn?” Andrew began skeptically.

            “We got the coin for it,” Pigma suggested.

            “Oh quit yer yabberin’,” Wolf said, feeling the Eladardian drawl infest his voice.  Andrew shot him a second quizzical look and the canine glared away from him, fiddling with the collar of his overcoat.  “Let’s go check it out and start formin’ up a plan of action.”

            Lenny watched them all go with his hard eyes.  Wolf marveled silently over how life had steeled the reptilian scrapper, molding his charitable heart.  But that was the nature of Eladard, the nature of the Lylat System.  The world did not wait for people to get strong.  It did not wait for people to weigh options.  No hesitation.  No mercy.  It was a tumbling series of challenges and one either rose to meet it or failed, burning out like a star that had tried to become what was beyond its reach.  Lenny was no different, pondered the former space pirate.  The scrapper’s hardened eyes betrayed little, but Wolf’s memory betrayed much more. 

            No one ended up on Eladard because they wanted to be there.  Even the adults were here by some cruel decree from some higher up in Corneria.  Even folk such as Leonard Nilo.  Time had hazed the details, but Wolf recalled hearing something about a family back home on Corneria.  Something about a little girl and an accident.  Something about the shift of the blame falling upon her booze-binging father.  Wolf sighed.  A necklace, it all made sense in its own melancholy way.

            The walk to the dormitory was brief but enough to feel the nip of Eladard’s breeze.  Wolf snuggled a bit further into his jacket, approaching the metal door and giving its rusted handle a hefty turn.  With a nasty, eerie creak, the door swung open and he stared down an old familiar room, its length somehow smaller than he had remembered.  Bunkbeds lined either sides, military style but the bars at the foot and headboard reminded Wolf of a prison. 

            “Yikes,” Andrew commented.

            “Is this place not often used?” Leon asked.

            “It is,” Wolf said with little reassurance in his voice. “But the people that usually stay out here have been off scrappin’.”

            “What does that even mean?” Andrew asked him, brows raised with curiosity.

            “Heh, you ever wonder how old junk shops get ship parts?  The scrappers go out to old wrecks and salvage whatever they can.  They patch up busted engines and hulls—things o’ that sort.  Then they resell.  Easy shit,” Wolf shrugged.

            “So isn’t that kind of stealing?” Andrew asked. “From the people that originally had the ships, that is.”

            “Most of them are dead.  Or abandoned.  Ain’t nobody goin’ back for the ships so… might as well make some use out of it.  And some cash,” Wolf shrugged.

            “It’s just how the game’s played,” Pigma chimed in, a twang of his own sorrow in his voice.  “It’s a tough world out there.  Sometimes people fly out, they don’t come back in.  Can find ‘em weeks later, frozen to death in space and still strapped into their cockpit.”

            “Pigma, you ever scrapped?” Wolf asked, ears perked.

            “Eh, once or twice between jobs for a guy outside o’ town,” Pigma shrugged.

            “He got a name?” Wolf asked.

            “Ehh he’s been dead for a few years,” Pigma said. “But his name was Ray Cowlet.”

            “Never heard o’ him,” Wolf said after a few moments of thought. “Probably wasn’t any good then.”

            “He wasn’t,” Pigma grinned from ear-to-ear.

            They stepped into the dormitory and slid the door shut, blotting out Lylat’s rays.  Wolf flicked on the light switch and as soon as the overhead lights buzzed on, he let out a sigh.  Nostalgia filled him as he walked among the bunkbeds, sweeping his gaze back and forth.  He stopped at the fourth one on the right, one of his claws tapping the metal and listening to the sound.

            “So are we actually gonna stay here?” Andrew asked.

            “Yeah,” Wolf looked back at him. “Just for the night.  I think you’ll survive.”

            Andrew looked doubtfully at the bunkbeds but said nothing in protest.  Instead, the one who voiced doubt was Leon, giving the room a quick look over with a wrinkled snout.  His thin arms crossed at his shallow chest, chin lifted in a picture of snobbish contempt. 

            “I think we have better chances of making it through the night outside,” Leon remarked. “Less chance to catch some disease from these beds.”

            “Then go outside,” Wolf said with a shrug. “If you get shanked in your sleep, don’t come cryin’ to me.”  He sat down on one of the beds, testing how much it sprung with a small, kiddish hop.  Its creak and moaning was beyond slightly alarming but it passed his test.  With a careless shrug, he plopped down onto the bed, resting his head on the hard-as-a-rock pillow. 

            Feels just like home.

            He heard Andrew give a small groan as he sat down on one of the beds, its springs giving a shrill groan.  As the others began to settle in, picking through the beds and dropping what belongings they had decided to bring with them off the carrier onto the unswept floor, Wolf took a few deep breaths.  His nose twitched at the rust the bed smelled of, ancient memory stored within its mattress and within the metal of its frame.  He pondered how many unfortunate souls had slept on it, spent the nights tossing and turning as they adjusted to how it creaked at the slightest movement.  The noise used to keep him up for hours, but that was long ago.  Now each shuffle accompanied by the spring’s high-pitched cry felt like a bittersweet melody to his ears.

           Wolf gave a sigh, rolling onto his back and staring at the bottom of the bunk above him.  There were initials carved in—none that he could decipher their actual names.  His mind was foggy at the names of his comrades back in the day.  He silently hoped they were well—all of the good ones, at least.  No one deserved a life committed to scrapping anyways.  It was too rough on the body.  Too rough on the heart.

          “So what’s the battle plan?” Andrew asked, his shadow falling over Wolf.  The canine cracked open his eye, looking the ape over.  He was standing above him, arms crossed and hip jutting slightly to the side.

          “Gotta do recon.  Then we decide how to approach the ol’ baron,” Wolf said with a shrug, sitting up carefully as to not hit his head.

          “For the record, I don’t think this is worth it.  We could steal a ship back at the hanger for less of a hassle.  I don’t get why we’re helping that guy,” Andrew’s voice was sharp as a dagger.  Wolf’s lip curled at his tone, feeling mildly impressed that he was deigning to stand up for his opinions. 

          Too bad you got no idea, kid.  Steal a ship from an Eladardian… hah.  We’d be lucky to find one less shot up than our carrier.  Or worse.

          “That Lenny guy, I owe him for somethin’,” Wolf answered. “If ya want a sob story from me, you’re gonna have to remain disappointed.  It’s not something worth sharing.  Just some shit I got into when I was a kid.  I told him I was never comin’ back but if I ever saw him and he needed me, he could rely on me to get something done for him.”

          “And now you’re dragging us into it,” Andrew scowled.

          “You wanna go back to Corneria?” Wolf asked, not taming the growl rising in his throat.

          The inquiry gave Andrew pause, enough for Wolf to see into his troubled brown irises.  There was realization in them echoed by bitter acceptance.  Silent loathing burned at his pupils, so similar to the eyes of his uncle.  But unlike Andross, Andrew had not succumbed to madness, to his demons.  He still barely even knew they were there.  Wolf sighed, itching the fur behind his left ear. 

          “I can’t go back and I know that,” Andrew said after a small silence. “But I’m not gonna die on some junkyard planet because you suddenly have to settle a debt.”

          “Easy solution to that, kiddo,” Wolf snorted, a twisted smirk creasing his muzzle. “Don’t die.”

          "You’re unbelievable,” Andrew’s scowl only worsened in severity, each word oozing with potent venom. “Really.  I can’t believe I was excited to learn from the great pirate captain Wolfrik O’Donnell.  My uncle had so many great things to say about you and you’re just some second-rate pilot with more baggage and debt than you know what to do with.”

          He did not bite back the snarl that erupted from him.  Wolf rose, narrowly missing the edge of the bunk bed and looming to his full height, glaring down upon Andrew with his fangs bared at each word, “Keep talkin’.  No really, I wanna hear what some wet behind the ears whelp has to say about the situation we’re in.  I’m trying my best to keep us all alive the best way I know how.  You’d rather we run back into the fuckin’ oven to get blasted by Pepper’s grunts over… what?  Some revenge mission?  Do you even know what kind of situation we got here?  No.  You don’t.  Because you’re some fuckin’ wannabe that doesn’t know shit.”

          “Get outta my face, you piece of—” Andrew began, chest puffing.

          “Prove me wrong, kid!” Wolf snapped.  “Don’t just ride on your uncle’s rep, do something for yourself for a change!  Use that brain o’ yours and think!”

          “My uncle is dead,” Andrew growled. “There were thousands that believed in what he was doing was the right thing.  Thousands that understood that the Cornerians have to be taken out of power.  Look at this planet, Wolf, look at what they did to it.  You’re telling me that this is how things should be?  Just ‘cause my uncle is dead?  We shouldn’t have come here and you know it.  We should’ve turned back around, we could’ve rallied everyone again, we could’ve—”

          “Shut up.  Stop being so optimistic.  The world is fucked.  Eladard’s fucked, yeah, but we can be not fucked if we play our cards right.  Everything is about survival,” Wolf’s fur was standing on end still, but the scathing snarl had dissipated gradually. “And I know you’re not the brightest fuckin’ laser beam in the fleet, but I’d have guessed you’d realize by now that any stupid revenge mission isn’t gonna work if you’re fucking dead.”

          “W-what are you even saying?” Andrew asked, brows raised.

          “I’m keepin’ us alive for now.  What happens when the heat’s died… well, that’s a story for another day,” Wolf said, his ears back and his sole violet eye set upon the would-be heir to Venom. 

          “A-are you saying…?” Wolf saw the glimmer of hope in Andrew’s eye. “Are you saying you want to help me…”

          “I never said that,” Wolf grumbled. “Hell, I don’t even know if this group will stay together.  We were commissioned to fight Corneria, we ain’t even a proper mercenary group.  I just want us to live long enough to make the choice when the time comes.  If we stick together or not.  But that’s a choice to be made later.  When we aren’t being chased across the damn galaxy by the Cornerians.”   When Andrew’s mouth began to open, Wolf jabbed a clawed finger at his chest. “But don’t mistake that for kindness.  Or some form of shitty sympathy.  We got safety in numbers, y’know.”

          Andrew studied him for a moment, his expression shifting.  Wolf could see his walls coming down, his passions relenting if only for a moment.  It gave the canine a swell of satisfaction in his chest, burning with smugness and dissolving into relief that the ape was going to drop the subject for the time being.  Wolf could honestly not say he wanted to try to tango with the Cornerians again—not in terms of serving in a full-scale war.  But that was something to be decided later.  Perhaps by the time that discussion came around, something would have come up about the remnants of Andross’s forces.  Wolf could only hope.

          “Fine,” Andrew’s bony shoulders heaved with a sigh. “I’ll play along for now.  But this conversation isn’t done, Wolf.  When we’ve got the ship repaired, we’re going to all talk about this.”

          “Whatever you say," Wolf said in turn, feeling content that the boy had at least given in for now.

          “If you two are done,” Leon said frostily.  Both Andrew and Wolf looked to the reptile, whose face was pressed into a frown of disapproval. “Then let us begin our mission, shall we?”

          “We’ll need someone to run recon on the baron’s mansion up the hill,” Wolf answered thoughtfully. “Leon, why don’t you handle that?”  There was something that burned in the reptile’s eyes and Wolf took silent note of it.

          “As you say,” Leon said with a shallow, curt nod.  He turned to leave at once, casting a glance over at where Pigma was settling in.  He was testing each bed on the row, flopping down ungracefully on each mattress and feeling how much it gave or stayed stiff.

          “I’m gonna check all the weapons and take stock.  If we need anything, I’ll run back to the carrier and grab it.  But I don’t think we will.  Simple in-and-out mission is how I think we’re gonna manage this,” Wolf said. “Andrew, go back to Lenny’s shop and see if you can’t get him to give us access to a few of his scrappin’ ships.  Pigma…” His eye strayed to the hog once more.

          “Ehh, I had an idea, actually,” Pigma sat up, looking over at Wolf. “I’ve got a few contacts here in Corona.  A few of ‘em that owe me money, too.  Maybe I can hit ‘em up, see if they won’t pay up.  Good to have funds, in case something goes to hell here.”

          “We’re already in hell.  But I agree.  Go ahead,” Wolf said dismissively.  When the others had left and the humming silence was all he could hear, he settled down into a sitting position on the bed, breathing out what remained of his broiling anger from before.  Without thinking, his hand moved to his eyepatch, feeling the fabric under his fingertips.  They scoured upwards, into his fur at the start of canals that had been driven into his eye.  He touched the old beginnings of his scars pensively, the stillness tickling the nerves down his neck.  With apprehension, his fingers crawled beneath his patch, feeling each of the three identical rivets in his face with morbid curiosity.  It had happened so long ago but it felt like it was just yesterday.

          It's nothing personal.  Just business.

          It didn’t feel like just business this time and Wolf hated it.  He hated the way his emotions tied themselves to Eladard, to the self-proclaimed baron, to even old sour Lenny Nile.  He loathed the way that Andrew looked at him, fiery with hope that could not be quenched without a hard lesson from life.  It felt so familiar that his stomach twisted into a knot with remembrance.

          Wolf tore himself away from his thoughts, busying his hands with each weapon he had brought with him from the ship.  Mostly, they were blasters set to kill.  Stunning an enemy was only ideal if you wanted them alive and Wolf lived in a world of black and white judgment—there were people that wanted to kill him and people that found use in him being alive.  There was no reason to set it to stun.  If there was someone coming at him, Wolf had no remorse in snuffing their light out.

          He cleaned the weapons, taking stock silently and grimly understanding that they were low on explosives and shields.  It would be hard to find the latter in Eladard.  A cynical part of Wolf mused that one only needed a shield if they suspected they were going to get caught.  He snorted softly into the silence, packing up the weapons and opting to venture out to the washroom.  He plodded past the lines of urinals and stalls, their white porcelain-like seats stained a suspicious pale yellow.  A grungy stench rested in the room and he pushed past it into the showering area.  The stalls were doorless, equipped with a single shower head and nothing more.  He told himself a warm shower might evoke some thought and so he stripped, pulling off even his eyepatch, and sidled in, playing with the knobs until they finally yielded water.

          The sting of cold water washing over him sucked the air from his lungs but he remained under the head, furiously turning the knobs until he realized that the hot water would likely never come.  Heavily disgruntled, the canine stepped from the stall, dripping wet.  He gave his fur a shake, ears perking up despite the burden of water clinging to his sleek gray coat.  With swearwords muttered under his breath, he turned in time to see Leon standing in the doorway, his large eyes bugged out somehow even more.

          “What the—” Wolf began, grabbing his coat to hold over himself.

          “S-sorry…” Leon turned quickly away, clutching his bony hands behind his back in a manner that reminded Wolf of a child.  “I was unsure of what was transpiring back here…”

          “Can’t a man take a shower in peace?” Wolf grumbled.  As he began to slide back into his pants and under garments, he shot the reptile a scowl of disapproval, though could not deny the warmth eating under his fur at the back of his neck.  “You can turn around.”

          When Leon did, Wolf could see the scarlet hue in the lizard’s scales, just beneath the eyes and at the cheeks.  But the Venomian spoke nothing of it, standing at the attention. “I have returned from my reconnaissance.”

          “Alright.  I trust you have urgent information if you’re buggin’ me like this?” Wolf asked warily.

          “I do, but it is not about the reconnaissance mission,” Leon said as Wolf pulled his shirt on over his head.   “I looked into the communication logs, as you ordered.  It seems there were a few encrypted codes that were launched prior to us being attacked.”

          “How long before we were attacked?” Wolf asked.

          “Two Cornerian hours,” Leon said. “Enough time for the Cornerians to divert their path and hyperspeed to our location, if they were near Venom.”

          “Interesting,” Wolf mused darkly. “And from whose terminal did these encrypted messages get released?”

          “Pigma’s,” Leon said. “Just as you suspected.”

          I sent him away to speak with his contacts.  No doubt he went to tell the Cornerians where we are.

          “Where is Pigma now?” Leon pressed.

          “He’s speaking with some of his old friends,” Wolf replied, pulling his overcoat on. “He seemed to think he could get some money or somethin’ from them.”

          “Do you not find that troubling?” Leon asked with surprise.

          “There’s no doubt in my mind he’s trying to sell us out,” Wolf said, his violet gaze so fierce that even Leon seemed to wither beneath it.  It took a moment for the canine to realize he had not put his eyepatch back on.  With no small amount of self-consciousness, he plucked it from the nearby bench and put it on, securing it over where he had been mauled years ago, leaving behind a milky-white eye and scars that disfigured the area around his socket.  As if nothing had happened, Wolf continued, “He’ll wait ‘til we’re done with the mission, though.  Mansion’s like that got loot in it, y’see.  He’ll snag some of it and run, bleatin’ to the Cornerians, tellin’ them where we are and how they can get us.”

          “How do you know?” Leon inquired darkly. “Should we not kill him?”

          He strapped on his belt then went to start buckling his boots back on.  There were thoughts buzzing about his mind, but he shoved them aside, making way for clarity.  Wolf’s chest seemed to deflate with an exhale. “I don’t tolerate traitors.  You should know that.  He’ll get what’s comin’.  Don’t you worry.”

Chapter Text

Wolf had not dreamed in years; not that he could remember, at least.  The flight from Katina to Sector Z was in his mind often as of late, hearing the screams of his crew as their ships crashed into oblivion, burning like stars falling from the heavens.  The abyss became water and Wolf blinked to find himself standing on Zoness’s shores, letting the water lap his ankles.  He heard the cocking of a pistol, its barrel glaring at his back.  He felt the shackles upon his wrists, dragged to that lonely cell that Leon had helped him escape.  He felt the absence of freedom in his lungs and the weight of the chains they had bound him with.  His hands were locked into place, metal scraping his wrists.  Ghosts teased him in the form of shapeless wisps, dancing about the prison cell in the moonlight and shadows.  His single violet eye could not look at them, not until they converged before him, twisting into a familiar silhouette.  When he realized what they had become, his scars burned and he threw himself out of slumber, nearly falling out of his bunk in the process.

            Moonlight streamed through the barred window, filtered only by the grime no one had bothered to clean off the glass in years.  Bare-chested, Wolf rose from his bunk, scratching beneath his collarbone.  He did not even bother to don his boots—he made for the door, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket along with his lighter.  In all honesty, he wished he could have said he was tired but it would have been a lie.  His heart thrummed with the lingering effects of fear, which was rapidly molding into bitter resentment. 

            Cigarette lit, he leaned against one of the posts supporting the scrapper’s dorm, his single-eyed gaze set on nothing in particular.  Every touch, every scent of Eladard was like a wine that had not aged well—sour to the taste and full of regrets.  Wolf took a long drag from his cigarette, puffing it out with a drawn-out exhale.  He hated coming back but it had been the only option he could think to do; Tala and Ralph were lifetimes apart from where he was now, likely living respectable lives and shedding their cursed surname to distance themselves from their criminal brother.  Wolf could not say he blamed them.  He had been on the wrong side of the war, after all.

            But it was not thoughts of his siblings that stirred him; his keen ears detected the sound of something thunking rather repetitively somewhere in the distance.  He swiveled them, hearing that the culprit was somewhere behind a massive pile of old wing parts.  Words drifted in the air, brushing his ears and spoken by a familiar voice.  Curiosity piqued, Wolf wandered over, cigarette jutting from his lips. 

            “… Remember this—the truth of the Lylat System is not what they have told you.  They will make you answer for sins you did not commit.  And they will make you bleed when you stand up against their false accusations.  When that happens, you must listen to the voices of your ancestors, for they are all around.  I will show you how to listen to them.”

            Andross?

Ears perked, he crept closer, peering around a heap of scrap metal to see Andrew’s back.  His face was illuminated by blue light, originating from a small cube device resting in one hand.  From it, Wolf could see part of Andross’s face—untouched by madness and his beard only containing a few salted grey strands. 

            Is that… a hologram? 

            Wolf tried to maintain his silence, but a fly buzzing by his snout betrayed him.  He huffed at it, trying to blow it away. 

“Feel the earth under your feet and the wind in the air.  Plant your feet a ways apart—” Andross’s accented voice was explaining when Andrew whirled around, eyes stretched wide.  His other hand held a rather unimpressive looking rock.

Ahhh shit, just when it was gettin’ good…

            “Ehhh, hi?” Wolf asked.  “What’re you doing out here?”

            Andrew looked guilty as charged, bags resting under his amber eyes and a simple stone largely enveloped in his left palm.  His tail curled back and he tried to conceal the rock from Wolf, tucking it into his armpit.  The young simian cleared his throat, straightening his posture.

            “Can I… help you…?” Andrew asked, folding his arms across his chest in an awkward, definitely suspicious fashion.  His tone seemed flat as a glass of soda left on the counter for far too long, his gaze dodgy.

            Do I ask?  Eh… probably one of those garbage sentimental things… Better not pry too hard.  I don’t want anybody cryin’ on me.

            “Probably not,” Wolf admitted, one of his ragged, notched ears flitting to the side. “You playing ‘Stones’, kid?”

            “What’s ‘Stones’?” Andrew asked.

            “Ugh, spoken like a Cornerian,” Wolf shook his head. “On Macbeth, we didn’t have fancy gadgets an’ shit.  We had to make our own fun.” 

            “It’s not like I had any of those things either,” Andrew retorted, but his spitfire confidence withered into tear-less anguish.  An alien side of Wolf arose to the novice’s tide of emotions, feeling an urge of parental protection that was quickly snuffed out by his logical, realistic side.  The boy was going to have to adapt sooner or later.

            “Well, if you’re not playing Stones, then what’re you doin’?” Wolf asked, puffing out his cigarette smoke into the night air.

            “Don’t worry about it,” Andrew scowled.

            “Okay, then I won’t,” Wolf gave a careless shrug and began to walk away. 

            “Wait.”

            Wolf felt the fur prickle on the back of his neck, the hint of a smirk playing about his lips. 

             “I thought you were from Papetoon?” Andrew asked him.

            “I was born on Macbeth, raised on Papetoon an’ one o’ the space colonies.  I eh… I got moved a lot,” Wolf answered, glancing back at him.  The information slipped out before he could check himself and he inwardly chided how his heart had softened.  Disgusted at himself, he turned away from the heir to Venom’s shattered throne, shoving his hands into his pockets.  Nonchalantly, he added, “But who knows, maybe it was good for me.  Seein’ the Lylat System for what it really was at such a young age left little room for disappointment.”

            “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Andrew asked scornfully.

            “Means the world doesn’t wait for people to pick themselves up off the ground, kid,” Wolf replied, taking two steps to leave Andrew to… whatever it was he was doing.  The taste of his cigarette did little to get rid of the bitterness he felt but it at least took off the edge.  A finger tapped off the ash from its tip and he puffed out the smoke into the darkened sky. 

            “But don’t you ever get tired of nothing going your way?” Andrew’s voice cut through Wolf like a knife through butter.

He felt something in the core of his soul stir.  It was ancient, forgotten under layers of suppression and the desire to forget.  His expression never changed, though a sharp inhale betrayed the perceived aloofness he had desired to maintain.  At some point, he had crossed the line of no return, and he could not have asked himself where that was.  Had it been on Macbeth, when his aunt had come to collect him and his siblings from their parents?  Had it been on Papetoon, when they had left country life for the big, dazzling lights of Area 5’s space colony?  Had it been the day he had fled Eladard…?  Somewhere in the hazy past, he had begun the journey that had led him to this moment—on the run for war crimes and treason, stuck on a desolate rock in space, possibly on the verge of being betrayed by one of his own wingmen. 

            Do I ever get tired of it?  Yes, but I put those feelings aside long ago.

            “That’s life, kid,” Wolf said callously in reply. “You make do with whatcha got.”

            “That’s some shitty advice from a former space pirate,” Andrew shot back, his temper flaring.

            “It’s not comin’ from me as a space pirate,” Wolf scoffed, glancing back at him with a single, moonlit violet eye.  “Anyways, I ain’t out here to shoot the shit with ya.  Go to bed or you’re gonna regret it in the morning.  I don’t want some half-awake dipshit tryin’ to do mission work.”

            “Ugh,” Andrew sighed and Wolf did not stick around to see if he cared enough to follow him back. 

            He snuffed his cigarette and laid back down into the bed, crossing his legs at the ankle.  Though the nights of Eladard were far from warm, he did not bother to snuggle into the ratty blanket he had largely cast onto the floor.  With the lingering aftertaste of his cigarette still dancing over his tongue, he closed his eye and took in a few deep breaths.  Laying down emphasized the way his heart rattled in his ribcage, thumping like a frantic metronome.  Dark ears back, he let his left hand rest over his chest, trying to will calmness into his body.  His seduction to sleep was gradual, lured in with the sensation of falling.  This time, he did not dream; he slid into the comfort of dark nothingness, slumbering until the first rays of light shone through the window.

            By the time Wolf willed his eye open, Leon was already ready to go.  He had donned a dark outfit that clung well to his body, outlining his delicate frame.  Sleeves cut off at the shoulder, his arms were exposed and revealed a series of vivid swirled tattoos.  Their colors ranged from sunny yellow to sky blue.  Crimson was interwoven into them in such an intricate design that Wolf lost himself in its complication. 

            Wonder what it means… the Venom wilds must really be a different kind of place.

            Leon caught his eye as he donned his dusted overcoat, its tail nearly sweeping the filthy floor.  He said nothing to Wolf; instead, he found a chair nearby, pulled out one of his knives, and began testing its edge with a careful thumb.  By the time Wolf rose from bed and had slid on a shirt, he was the second-to-last person up.  Pigma had wandered off to the showers and Andrew was a curled mass under his blankets. 

            “Breakfast, then we’re hittin’ the drawin’ board,” Wolf announced to no one in particular, still shaking the sleepiness from himself.  “I know Lenny ain’t cookin’ shit for us so we’ll have to find somethin’ in town.”

            “A bar?” Leon asked and Wolf had to remind himself that bars had not necessarily been a frequent sight on the lizard’s home world.

            “Whiskey for breakfast, sounds good,” Wolf replied with a small chortle. “What do ya say to that, Andrew?”

            No reply.        

            “C’mon, kid, get up.  We don’t got all mornin’,” Wolf wandered over to the simian’s bed.  He had completely covered himself with blankets, tucked onto his side with only a small tuft of white fur sticking out from beneath the covers.  For a moment, Wolf contemplated the temperature of the room—it certainly had not gotten that cold last night, but it certainly had not been warm either.  Andrew’s pile of blankets sent up a mental red flag.

            Claws nearly ripping through the blankets, Wolf ripped them away, exposing a few torn pillows.  Their white cotton stuck out of various holes made throughout the years of their use.  The blankets fell to the ground and Wolf did not care enough to pick them back up.  His head jerked Leon’s way, and voice reverberating with surprise and seriousness, he asked, “Did you hear him come in last night?”

            “No,” Leon answered with a slight bow of his head.

            He never came in after I told him to.

            “Maybe he has gone into town?  Maybe he will be back?” Leon suggested, but a slight quiver of uncertainty told Wolf that the lizard did not believe his own words.

            “Ugh, let him go, I guess.  He’ll get eaten alive out there,” Wolf waved his hand. “No sweat off my back.”  It was a lie and Leon’s pressing glare called him out on it.  Much like Wolf, the lithe assassin knew that being down a man for this mission was going to hurt their chances significantly.  An extra gun, even an untrained one, was better than nothing. 

            The plodding of hooves on tile alerted Wolf to Pigma’s arrival; the plump mercenary was wearing scarcely anything but a towel around his hips.  He stood proudly in the doorway, quite shameless.  There was a surprisingly large mop of hair on his chest, making up for his baldness on top.  A few scars decorated his torso, telling of close-calls and adventures that the sly hog would never give up.  Despite his evident over-eating, there were traces of muscles in his arms—the ghost of strengthened abs in his torso.  Wolf supposed he was old enough to have served in the military, perhaps even in the Civil War—but something about the way the hog carried himself made Wolf think he had never done a day of honest work in his life.  He reeked with experience just as much as he did greed.

            He sold his best friends to a madman; just think of what he’d do to us if he had the chance…

            “What’s all the jabberin’ about?” Pigma asked, a few droplets cascading down his burly chest.  “Somethin’ happen?”

            “Andrew’s gone,” Wolf informed him, studying his lack of surprise. “… Ya know somethin’ about that?”

            “Oh sure I do,” Pigma answered nonchalantly. “Asked me to borrow some guns an’ stuff, so I gave him our uh… oh, our sniper rifle, a pistol, a blaster… Few o’ them grenade thingies…” He listed the items off, counting on each finger as he went.

            “You gave him what?” Wolf asked, flabbergasted.

            Gimping our mission so soon?  I didn’t expect that.

            “He said he’d come right back,” Pigma replied innocently with a shrug.

            “And you believed him?” Wolf asked, feeling sparks of anger in the tips of his fingers, winding their way through his arms.  It was all he could do to not throttle the hog—but for the mission’s sake, he bit back his rage and scratched his chin furiously.

            “Why wouldn’t I?  We’re teammates aren’t we?  We’re all friends here, right?” Pigma shrugged, his voice honey-sweet and disarming.  His silver eyes sparkled with a false kindness that made Wolf sick to his stomach. 

            “Are you going to put on some clothes?” Leon asked sourly to the hog, whose towel was suspiciously close to slipping in the front.

            “Heh, don’t like what you see?” Pigma jabbed at the reptile, a wry smirk about his snout. “I s’pose that ain’t surprisin’… I hear your tastes are more… wolfish these days.”

            Leon fell silent but there was no mistaking the slight twitch in his left eye.  He was furious and his anger was only thinly veiled by his stoic nature.  His fingers clasped each other, knuckles paling.  Wolf wondered if he was envisioning Pigma’s girthy throat in his grasp.

            “The hell you on about?” Wolf asked Pigma, narrowing his violet eye at him. 

            “It don’t matter.  Now, we lookin’ fer Andrew or are we gettin’ down to the biz?  The sooner we’re off this junkyard, the sooner we can figure out what we doin’ next,” Pigma scratched his snout and began rummaging through what little spare clothes he had left.

            You mean… the sooner you get to sell us out, you traitorous shit…

            “Put some goddamn pants on and let’s go.  I want my weapons back,” Wolf huffed.  He slipped on his overcoat, fastened his belt and slung his blaster into its holster.  A strange stirring in his gut told him to grab a barrier and so he did, clipping it to his wrist for use later.

            When they went to hit the streets, they passed by Lenny’s shop.  A gander into the window and Wolf saw the old croc talking fervently with a customer—a hyena man with a ruffled mohawk, tired eyes, and a patchy looking suit.  Wolf did not stare; he did not want to attract any more attention than he needed to.  By the time they reached the street, Lylat’s warmth had settled on the road.  The shade was the desirable hangout spot for the lowlifes that could not afford a roof over their head.  He felt their eyes upon him, judgmental and scouring for opportunity.  A flaw, a sign of weakness, and they would pounce from the shadows and reap what they could.  Some of them were skeletal, wearing sacks for clothing and accompanied by flies and fleas.  Some of them were old, many of them were young—workers for the mines that had gone out of business and now they were left here to wither away.

            “Some of these people would fare better on Venom,” Leon remarked in a low voice.

            “Y’mean get poisoned by the air an’ die in five minutes?” Pigma asked with a cocked brow.

            “A swift, merciful death compared to this,” Leon responded blandly.

            “What a strangely kind thing fer you to say, Leon,” Pigma snorted.

            A one-eyed glare shot at the bickering duo silenced them, but Wolf could see Leon’s brewing malice towards the hog in the finest traces of the lizard’s face.  Brow slightly furrowed, the lithe assassin kept his head faced forward but a sly side-eye in Pigma’s direction betrayed his silence.  Wolf pressed onward, sliding ahead of his teammates by a half-pace.  The thought of Pigma being behind him made his skin prickle with mistrust but knowing Leon was there to eased his nerves.  He knew the boorish merc was fast but the stoic assassin was far faster.

            Shouts caught his tattered ears and one of them swiveled in the direction of the screams.  Their origin he could not decipher, not until the doors were suddenly flung open up ahead of the dusty road they were walking.  Not a moment later, a blur of brown, white, and crimson was systematically ejected from within the building—a rustic bar with a broken sign.  It read the words “The Comet’s Trail” but the ‘r’ had fallen off, leaving the name “The Comet’s Tail”.  Wolf could not remember the sign ever being spelled properly.  He could, however, remember the bar being a frequent hangout spot for Archie’s crew.

            “Andrew?” Pigma piped up, breaking Wolf’s thoughts.  His violet eye swung to the heap of white fur and bloodsplatter on the ground.

Andrew lay there, nose bloodied and a cut under one eye.  He groaned as he stood up, grabbing his forehead with one hand.  The simian gnashed his teeth, baring them in a savage snarl.  A guttural growl emanated from him, accompanied by the display of his polished incisors.  But before he could snap anything back at his aggressors, a voice thundered from within the bar.

            “And stay out, ya damn shit!  We don’t deal wit’ the apes, not since ya lost the damn war!”

            Oh for fuck’s sake…

            “S-say what you want… My uncle’s dream will never die!  Not until the Cornerians have paid for what they did!” Andrew shot back, drool from the corner of his mouth mixing with the blood adorning his face.  “We’ll rise again!  I swear it!”

            The closer Wolf drew to the screeching monkey, the more he could scent the alcohol-ridden perfume that surrounded him.  His snout wrinkled with disgust, but his gaze landed on the person Andrew was yelling at.  As soon as Wolf caught sight of the bouncer, he forced back a gasp, stifling it with a low growl that rumbled in the back of his throat.  His claws dug into his own skin as his hands became fists at his sides.

            Lumbering in the doorway was a rhinoceros, his horn missing and a scar over his brow.  His maroon coat with a nefarious-looking bear claw insignia marked him as one of Archie’s goons—not like it mattered to Wolf, who recognized the man in an instant from the not-so-good-old-days. 

            “Get up,” Wolf reached down to grab Andrew’s collar but the drunken ape swatted him away.

            “No!  Dun do it, Wolf, I got ‘em.  I got ‘em this time… watch me…” Andrew fumbled, trying to rise on his own but failing miserably.  He landed on his bum with a tiny, shrill yelp and a moan.

            “You drunk ass,” Wolf huffed at him. “What have ya gotten yerself into?”

            “Wolf?” the rhino was staring him up and down, itching at his broad scar. “As in… The Wolf?”

            “The Wolf?” Pigma asked, clearly intrigued.

            Oh fucking hell…

            Fur bristling on his nape, the former space pirate locked glares with Archie’s goon.  Left hand slowly straying towards his blaster, he watched the awe and surprise wash over the scarred rhino.  Shoulders heaving with a sigh, Wolf mentally kissed a bitter goodbye to any signs of storming Archie’s mansion undetected, fearing what Lenny would say when word inevitably broke that he had returned in full.

            I know, Lenny, Wolf said to the conversation he had created.  I wasn’t careful enough.

            “I do remember ya,” the rhino said, and then hollered over his shoulder.  “Hey!  Boys!  Looky what we got here!  It’s Wolfrik O’Donnell.”  Animosity incarnate overran the rhino’s rugged features, a smirk creeping onto his fat lips. “Oh boy has the Boss got a bone to pick with you.”

            “Yeah, well,” Wolf replied.  The shadows were starting to stir with interest from the scum that lived in them, their attention crawling over him.  He was being picked apart, judged by the streetrats that were cursed to their slow death on Eladard.  He hoped he did not disappoint them nor the reputation he had built.  “… I don’t really feel like chattin’ with him.  Ya feel?”

            Even from behind the rhino’s hulking frame, Wolf could see the other goons gathering, their attention drawn away from their drinks.  There would be no contest in terms of numbers; the Comet’s Trail had always been one of Archie’s bars.  His men would flock there when they were not on-duty and even sometimes when they were on duty, stumbling about drunk afterwards and waving their guns wherever they pleased. 

Leon’s urgent voice broke Wolf’s growing panic, “What do we do?”

            I don’t have any answers to give.

            “We get ready to blow their heads off,” Pigma’s cackle was soft but fringed with bloodlust.

“Don’t matter what ya feel like,” the rhino said, fishing a gun out from his belt. “Yer gonna come wit’ us.  We got strict orders an’ shit ta bring ya back -- alive.  But it don’t say nothin’ ‘bout yer buddies.”

            “Leon, Pigma,” Wolf began in a low voice.  The lizard was so close that Wolf could feel the tautness of his anticipation, his violent drive. “Kill ‘em.”

            As the rhino fired at him and the ungracefully sprawled-out Andrew, Wolf hit the barrier device he had clipped to his wrist.  The laser fire bounced off harmlessly and Wolf grabbed Andrew by the scruff, pulling him back with a bestial snarl. “Get outta here, kid!”

            “I can fight!” Andrew protested, words slurred and sloppy.  He pushed himself up from the dirt,

            “You can barely stand!” Wolf snapped back.

Already the enemy’s fire was beginning to weaken the shield, causing it to flicker.  Leon had skirted around the side in an attempt to flank the hired goons but they retreated into the safety of the bar’s doorframe.  Pigma’s hefty laser fire did nothing but barrel holes into the building, his aim as horrendous as his laugh.  Andrew’s sweaty palms clasped Wolf’s ankles, his hands trying to find leverage to rise in the pockets of the canine’s jacket.  But as he tried to pull himself up, his added weight caused Wolf to lose his footing.  He regained it swiftly, growling at the drunken simian.

“Get offa me!” snapped Wolf at Andrew, who stubbornly clung onto the overcoat.

“I got this, I got this!” Andrew tried to reassure him but Wolf was far from convinced.  He grabbed the monkey by the collar, dragging him into cover behind the building’s side wall.

“Yer gonna stay put and yer gonna like it!” He felt like he was scolding a child.  There was a vague glisten in the heir’s amber eyes, though Wolf chalked it up to irritation from the dust that their flight had kicked up.

“But Wolf—” Andrew began.

Wolf did not bother to give the heir a chance to speak; he drew his blaster and peered around the corner.  From what he could see, Pigma had taken up a spot behind a collection of crates sitting across the dirty old road.  Leon had vanished somewhere in the fight and the doorway seemed to be alight with lasers being fired off.  Their reach grazed the crates Pigma was sitting behind, yet the hog did not seem disturbed in the slightest.  His pale eyes met Wolf’s gaze for a moment and he gave a cheesy grin, a sloppy salute, and stepped from around the pile of crates.  Despite his weight, he moved with extreme speed, their gunfire trained on him as he moved to cover further away from Wolf.

How nice of him to be the distraction for once.

With the tap of his finger, Wolf reactivated his barrier and stepped clear from his cover.  Clinging to the front of the building, he ducked when he heard the charging noise of a laser.  Glass from a nearby window caressed the protective shield around him, spraying the broken cement.  He crouched as he neared the open doorway, poking his head around the corner in time to see Leon leap from the ceiling rafters and onto an unsuspecting victim at the back of the room.  All attention was directed to the assassin and his blades, which had found new sheaths in the skull of an unfortunate hired gun. 

            I’ll never know how he does it, Wolf thought with a small chuckle, opening fire in the room at the closest goon.  The guard fell and his friend followed.  When the front half of the room realized what was going on, they began to open fire.  Barrier flickering, Wolf took advantage of his last few seconds of safety by diving behind a table, kicking it up and using it as a shield the moment that his protection wore off.

            We don’t have the advantage in numbers but Archie would eat his own shit before giving fuckos like this decent tech for a fight.  They’re probably running old blasters from before the war.

            “Get ‘em!” someone shouted, tearing Wolf from his thoughts.  Keeping as low as he could, he fired off a few shots at the incoming guards.  He caught glimpses of Leon, who had swapped his daggers for a set of dual pistols, their small lasers burning through the henchmen with relative ease. 

            Wolf ducked back behind table, checking his blaster to make sure it was good to continue before peering back over the table.  When he popped back up, his nose collided into something that felt both hard… and yet warm and squishy.  Instincts howled at him to draw back and so he did, leaping back and letting the table fall over to expose him.  The rhino from before loomed over him, equipped not with a blaster but with a mace that crackled with energy at its spiked head.

            What the everlasting—

            He did not even have time to finish his thoughts; the rhino swung and Wolf would have been remiss to not duck.  With a yelp of surprise, he threw himself to the ground, the buzzing spiked mace zipping overhead.  His blaster in hand, he fired up at his opponent—every shot somehow failing to hit anything but the ceiling.  Momentum gave Wolf enough time to scramble back and the rhino’s mace crashed down at where the canine had once been laying on the ground.  Fear and adrenaline got Wolf onto his feet again, his coat stained with spilled beer and flecked with crimson.  The rhino charged, his sparking mace overhead.  Wolf dodged to the right, leaping onto a table.  The mace collided into the ground with such a force that Wolf could feel it in his boots. 

            Wolf fired upon the rhino, striking him in his burly shoulder.  Enraged, the goon whirled around, his mace a blur of sparking blue and silver.  Wolf felt time tick slowly as the mace crashed into the table he was standing on.  His leap backwards had been a fraction of a second too late and he was falling.  The sickening crackle of wood breaking confirmed that the table had been decimated and his vision was filled with the sight of the stained ceiling. When he hit the ground, his breath escaped his agape mouth, his head hitting against the creaking wooden floor.

            His vision flashed for a moment, turning to white nothingness.  He was not sure how much time had passed when he could see again.  The ceiling seemed the same—burnt by astray lasers and marred by various pale liquids that made Wolf want to gag.  His head was throbbing and the sounds around him faded in and out for a few painstaking seconds before clarity finally took him into its grasp.  He gasped for air.  

            “How’s it feel?” he could hear the rhino goon saying, his feet thudding against the rubble he had caused.  “How’s it feel to know yer gonna die here?  Once the Boss is done wit’ ya… There ain’t gonna be nothin’ left!”

             By the time Wolf had recovered enough to tilt his head up, the rhino was almost upon him.  Blood gently oozed from the wound in his shoulder, splattering the ground.  He hit a switch on his mace and the spikes retracted to make the weapon form a club. 

            Ugh, get up… C’mon, I’m not that old yet…!

            Wolf tried to rise, feeling a jab of pain in his leg.  A quick glance and he saw a splinter of wood jutting from his calf.  Sucking in a breath, he reached for his gun but knew the odds were stacked against him.  His pointer finger brushed his blaster’s handle, nudging it just out of his reach.  Pain began to awaken each nerve in his body and he winced.

            “I heard what ya did, y’know.  Errybody in the Boss’s team knows what ya did,” the rhino continued, looming over Wolf with his club in hand.  Its head hummed threateningly, electricity dancing about with the promises of pain in its tune. “It was a mistake comin’ here!  And now yer gonna—augh!?  What the—”

            The rhino had stopped moving, his arms frozen in time solid.  Eyes flailing wildly about, his words became choked and forced. “W-what’s…what’s happening…!?”

            The chaos stilled in an instant; eerie silence usurping the cacophony.  He could not even hear death take the ones who were dying—their screams had gone quiet and the Eladardian heat seemed to have been temporarily banished.  A cold draft tickled his fur, but it did not feel natural.  His head snapped in the direction of the bar’s front door, which had been blown off its hinges and lay somewhere in the street. 

            Andrew stood in the doorway, his eyes glowing as bright as a nebula in the depths of space.  An aura had surrounded him, blowing like a tornado with the young heir at its center. His hands were positioned in front of him, fingers tightened and bent like those of a puppeteer. The sight of it made Wolf abandon logic; he could not say what the monkey was doing, but he could feel in his bones that something was happening. Veiled in thin violet light, Andrew Oikonny screamed, “Now!”

            Behind the rhino, the windows shattered and the wall disappeared in an explosion of dust.  The sound of an engine revving caused Wolf’s ears to perk and where the wall and rhino guard had once been, he saw the metallic nose of a vehicle, its tip just a few feet from the soles of Wolf’s boots.

            That was too damn close for comfort…

            “Get in!” Pigma waved from the passenger seat of the vehicle—a speeder that Wolf identified was commonly used for long-distance travel.  Its bear claw insignia made his skin crawl beneath his fur but he did not need to be told twice.  He ran for the speeder, jumping and latching on to its side. 

            Leon made a dash for the speeder, a spray of laser fire dancing about him from the pitiful remaining amount of guards.  Wolf returned their attacks with a few of his own, careful to aim around the fleeing Leon.  Only when the lizard and monkey had both latched on did Pigma throw the speeder into reverse, zipping haphazardly backwards until they had cleared out of the bar.

            Andrew, the aura about him having vanished, climbed into the seat next to Pigma, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. Leon had lost a pistol somewhere in the skirmish but was happy firing back at the henchmen that gave chase.  Wolf sheathed his blaster, feeling spikes of pain trail up his calf and into his thigh.  He pulled himself ungracefully into the back seat, hissing moodily as he began to inspect his wounds.

            “Get us back to Lenny’s,” Andrew said to Pigma.

            “No!  Damn it, are you stupid?” Wolf snapped. “Cover’s been blown.  They’ll know to look there.  Make for the outskirts.  We’ll have to lay low for a bit until the heat’s died off.”

            “Do ya got a place in mind?” Pigma asked with a snort, dodging around a few pedestrians and hitting the accelerate to zip around some clustered crates that had been abandoned on the road. 

            “Yeah,” Wolf answered. “Just go north.  I’ll tell you where to turn off.”

            “What about our stuff?” Andrew asked him.  His dark amber eyes were normal now, but Wolf could not shake the image of how they had glowed from his mind. 

            “We’ll have to do without,” Wolf said with the shake of his head.

            “So much for secrecy and being covert,” Leon chimed in moodily, sliding into the back and landing uncomfortably close to Wolf.  He edged away from the canine quickly, though his keen eye took note of his leader’s wound. “We will need to get that looked at.”

            “Heh.  Your concern is touchin’, Leon.  How’d you do?  You don’t seem hurt,” Wolf looked the reptile over.

            “A few scratches.  But I was lucky.  They were bad shots,” Leon answered.

            “How ‘bout you two?” Wolf asked Andrew and Pigma, his hand clapping the head of the seat in front of him.  He hesitated to ask the displaced heir about what he had done, words failing him as he stared through the back of the monkey’s head.  In the end, Wolf let his mouth close, exhaling brusquely through his nostrils.

            That’s twice now that he’s saved me.

            “We’re all good over here,” Pigma replied with a savage grin.

            “I’m fine,” Andrew answered hurriedly, but there was no denying the exhaustion eating away under his eyes, seeping into the shadows of his pink cheeks.  His drunkenness had worn off, fading into what Wolf assumed was a faint hangover. 

            “So what exactly was yer plan there, bucko?” Wolf asked, resting back into his chair.  He gave a small wince at the pain in his leg, mulling darkly over how they were going to extract the splinter carefully. 

            “I went to the local bar to get information.  Doesn’t everyone do that?” Andrew asked and Pigma stifled snort-filled laughter.

            “I mean, if ya wanna die, ya walk into bars like that.  Geesh, who taught this kid?” Wolf remarked sourly.

            “You did,” Leon pointed out.

            One of Wolf’s ears flitted back, “I don’t recall teachin’ him to be a dumbass.”  He could feel Andrew’s tension from where he sat, wondering if his words had perhaps been too harsh. Wolf considered Andrew’s help for a moment, weighing his failures against his successes with a scrutinizing eye.  It all boiled down to logic—and he felt the ape was sorely lacking in that department.

            He’ll get there.  Someday.  Maybe.

            “But all shitty choices aside, ya did good with yer um…” Wolf began, freezing when he realized he had brought up the strangeness of his rescue.  “… Timing.  Yes, yer timing was real good.”

            “T-thanks,” Andrew said awkwardly.

            “Aww such the modest one!” Pigma cackled.

            “My head hurts,” Andrew complained.

            “Heh!  Baby’s first hangover,” Wolf smirked.  “Well, I guess we’ll have to keep it down.  Pigma, take the first right fork as soon as we leave city limits.  Leon, I’m gonna need yer help.”

            “With what?” Leon asked, scaly brows raised.

            Wolf could not suppress the bitter smile winding its way across his scruffy snout.  “Yer gonna help me pull this shit outta my leg.”

Chapter Text

          In the same fashion as metal, Eladard had rusted over time.  A scan across the barren horizon told Wolf enough; the Cornerians had reaped what they could and had abandoned ship the moment that the planet’s wealth had been depleted.  Abandoned factories dotted the flatlands, their lights permanently turned off and their structures crumbling from lack of care.  They were the only thing to disrupt the arid plains.  Otherwise, the world stretched out as far as the eye could see, providing little to no cover.  No signs of wildlife made the planet carry an uneasy aura; Wolf marveled at how utterly dead the planet was.  But, he supposed, that was how Corneria ran the Lylat System.  They came, they took, they left—parasites that did not care for the ones they had left behind. 

            This planet’s a corpse.

            Disrupted chain-link fences stood at the sides of the dusty road they traversed.  They were the only traffic that Wolf could see for miles.  He supposed it made sense; not many people left Corona and even less left for the flatlands.  They passed a partially caved-in building and Wolf tried hard to remember what its purpose had been all those years ago.  He could not remember and he gave a sigh as he settled into his seat, careful not to bump his injured leg.

            “Is there anything out here?” Leon asked.

            “What ya see is what ya get,” Wolf remarked, voice as dry as the air around them.

            “Where am I turnin’ off?” Pigma asked.

Wolf’s single eye scanned the horizon, glazing over the abandoned constructs left decaying under Lylat’s rays.  When he spied his quarry, he pointed a clawed finger towards it. “There.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Their destination was a factory; made out of dark-toned metal with extinguished lights that had gone out years ago. Its sign had been torn down decades ago, leaving just the posts standing in adamant defiance.  Whatever gates there had been to ward the curious away had been removed.  There was nothing to stop their approach.

Some things never change.

“How is your leg?” Leon asked.

“Feels like shit,” Wolf grunted.  “We’ll need to take another look at it when we’re settled.”

“Maybe this time, you will only threaten me five times while I look it over,” Leon jested in his ever-stoic fashion.

Wolf had dug trenches into the padded seats during the extraction, causing fluff to spew onto the floorboards.  Through the agonized growling from Wolf and callous reassurance from Leon (almost drowned out by the choppy, static-filled radio and Pigma’s off-key singing), Andrew had remained quiet, staring out the window expressionlessly. He only perked up as they drove between two rusted fence posts—monuments to a time long passed for the neglected factory.

“You’re lucky it wasn’t more,” Wolf huffed.

“What a shame it would be if the entire Lylat System knew…” Leon said, eyes glittering with dangerous amusement. “… How much of a wimp the leader of the dreaded Star Wolf is…”

“That settles it.  Next ship, I’m gettin’ a lizard-skin seat,” Wolf retorted back, his mouth twisting into a wry smirk.

After they had parked around the back of the factory, Pigma was the first one out of the stolen speeder, plodding down hard onto the parched dirt.  He craned his head back at the factory that Wolf had pointed out to him, using his hand as a visor against Lylat’s rays.  The others piled out of the speeder one at a time.  Wolf tested his injured leg gingerly on the dirt before committing to putting down weight on it. 

Ugh, what I would give for some painkillers…

“Heh, it don’t look too different from the others.  Why this place, eh?” commented the hog with curiosity.

“The locals hate it, that’s why.  There was a bad accident here—a fire, killed about thirty workers.  No one touches it ‘cause the ghosts of the victims are s’posed to be hauntin’ the joint,” Wolf replied casually but he took note of Andrew’s grimace.

“Does it got any grub, I wonder?” Pigma scratched his chin. “We ain’t gettin’ far without food.”

“I know,” Wolf replied miserably.

“This place is different from my home, but there are opportunities everywhere,” Leon said, voice as cold as winter’s bite despite the glint of determination in his eyes. “I will search for resources.” He walked towards the front doors, Pigma close behind him.

“And the ghosts?” Andrew asked apprehensively with a quirked brow.

“Not real as far as I know,” Wolf shrugged and trailed after the hog and lizard.  Andrew did not look convinced but he followed the others regardless.

The factory was deserted, its walls decaying incredibly slowly.  Windows had been shot out, leaving shards of glass spread across the yellowing tile floors.  Deathly silence was all that reigned in the manufacturing plant, its hallways clearly having not seen visitors in years.  Chipped paint flecked the broken tiles, which were dirt-stained and grimy with things that Wolf did not want to think about.  Roaches scattered in the corners, the last living inhabitants of the old factory.

The Star Wolf team found a large room filled with inactive conveyer belts and Wolf decided it was as good of a place to stop as any.  The belts were not entirely unoccupied —blackened dirt and grime had mixed together to form a gross layer of something that looked suspiciously like mold, but the dry air told Wolf it was just the accumulation of neglect.  A few of them were broken, caved in from the weight of rubble.  The ceiling was largely intact save for a chunk that permitted Lylat to filter its light onto the desolate room. 

“We’ll wait in here.  Plenty of cover and multiple exits,” Wolf said to the others.

“Wait for what?” Andrew asked. “For them to find us here?”

“If that’s what happens, yeah,” Wolf shrugged and took note of Leon scurrying quietly into one of the abandoned corridors.  “But I doubt they’ll show their mugs here.”

“Why do you say that?” Andrew asked.

“ ‘Cause this place’s haunted, remember?  They’ll check Lenny’s first but they won’t find anything there.  Once they’ve left, he’ll know something went down.  He’ll know to come here,” Wolf answered, scratching behind one of his tattered ears.

“And how will he know that?” Andrew’s brows furrowed.

Oh, kid, you don’t wanna know the answer to that. 

The ex-space pirate breathed in deep. The air was nostalgic, filled with a stale musk that reminded him of mothball-adorned coats, cobwebs, regrets, and the merciless passage of time.  It had been that way years ago, before he had left.  He knew in the decades to come, nothing would change here.  It was the only thing excused from the laws of the universe; it stood as an obelisk for the failures of their pathetic society. 

            “He’s the one that took me here for the first time,” Wolf answered when he realized the simian was still waiting for his reply.  “But that was a long time ago.  Maybe even before you were born.”

            “You’re not that much older than me,” Andrew retorted.

            “My back says otherwise,” Wolf shot back and Andrew rolled his eyes.  Single violet eye tracing over the young ape, the ex-pirate felt the questions start to creep from the deeper recesses of his mind.  They piled against his tongue until he was compelled to release them. “So what was that back there?”

            Andrew did not look at him.  He seemed focused on the empty air, searching and gazing through something that was not there.  Twice he blinked before he answered in a low, uncharacteristically somber tone, “Just something my uncle taught me.”

            “Oho?” Pigma’s brows raised with interest.  He had found a spot on the wall to lean against, his flight suit brushing against some of the unsavory stains. “Some of yer uncle’s mumbo-jumbo crap?”

            “It’s not ‘mumbo-jumbo’!” Andrew shot back. “And it’s definitely not crap.”

            “I’d agree with that,” Wolf said, folding his arms over his chest. “It certainly came in handy.  Can you do it again?”

            Andrew gave pause before the confession came out, “I don’t know.”

            Bingo.  I had a hunch it was a fluke but I guess that’s for the best.  The kid’s going through a lot, emotions runnin’ high and all that… Don’t want a guy with that sort of trick blowin’ up on us.

            “How did you do it before?” Wolf pressed.

            “I don’t know how to describe it,” Andrew just shook his head. “It’s… complicated.”

            Deflectin’ hard there, kiddo.  But that’s not gonna save you from this interrogation.

Wolf could sense the young heir’s unease, but that did not cause him to hesitate.  After what Andrew had done, Wolf had little sympathy for him; they were now three steps behind where they should have been in their mission, hiding out in an abandoned, reeking old factory with no food or water and barely any weapons between them.  Knowing that and feeling the tweak of pain in his leg, Wolf strained to curtail his gradually reviving anger. 

“So what’d you do with the guns Pigma gave you?” the ex-pirate asked, quirking a brow.

“What?” Andrew asked, nose wrinkled.

“The guns.  Where are they?” Wolf asked him with a low growl.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Andrew answered.

“You drunk still?” Wolf asked.

“No!” Andrew snapped back. “I’m… I’m fine.”

“Then where’d you put the guns?” Wolf asked and Andrew just dumbly shook his head in reply.

God dammit, he can’t remember, can he?

“Look, kid, we didn’t exactly come here with an entire arsenal fit fer what we gotta do.  I’m gonna need to know what ya did with those guns or we’re gonna have a serious problem,” Wolf felt his hackles rising.

“Easy, easy,” Pigma waved his hands, but there was a cunning smile playing about his snout. “We don’t need none o’ that out here o’ all places!”

“Quiet, Pigma!” Wolf snapped and the hog held up his hands with some measure of defeat.  “Andrew, answer –”

“Or what?  You’re gonna beat me up?  You’re gonna kill me?” Andrew turned to face Wolf, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Well, I don’t care!  I don’t care about this stupid mission! I don’t care about your friend or his dumb jewelry!  I just want to get back to Venom.”

“Still goin’ on about that?  I thought we agreed to settle that once we were off this rock,” Wolf growled.

“If we even get off this rock!” Andrew snapped. “Because apparently the local mob wants to kill you!”

“And who let them know I was here?” Wolf snarled. “Because I wasn’t the one that walked into their favorite goddamn bar and decided to get feisty with the locals!”

“How was I supposed to know you had a bounty on your head here?” Andrew shot back.

“Andrew, where in the Lylat System do I NOT have a bounty on my head?” Wolf spat. “And if they figure out who you are, you’re not gonna be much better off.  You’re the nephew to the fallen Venomian Emperor.  They’ll skin you and ship your carcass to General Pepper for a chance to leave this shithole.”

Andrew’s eyes were steady, but there was an angry quiver in his lower lip.  He held his ground and Wolf was silently impressed by how firm he was standing.  A single strand of sunlight fell through the roof, illuminating the hungover and pissed off Andrew’s golden-brown irises.  For a moment, Wolf could see a vague resemblance to the deceased Andross.  But Andrew was still soft, still green.  And Wolf questioned for the thousandth time if that would ever change.

“And why would they care about that?” Andrew asked. “It’s not like we invaded Eladard or caused the planet to get so messed up.”

“It’s not about that.  It’s about getting out,” Wolf responded coldly.

“So,” Andrew began with a knowing gleam. “What did you do to Archie to get out of here?”  Pause.  “Or maybe I should ask what he did to you?”

Wolf had blinked in the time it had taken for his hand to find Andrew’s scrawny neck, his claws digging small rivets into the would-be heir’s neck.  His lips peeled back in a snarl, fur standing on end with scarcely bridled wrath.  Andrew’s gasps were stifled by his grip, his long fingers wrapped around Wolf’s wrist.

“You might’ve saved my neck a few times lately,” the ex-space pirate captain sneered. “But that ain’t gonna save you from an ass whoopin’ if you don’t get it together.  I ain’t here to talk about Archie.  I’m here to talk about our weapons.  So forget about him and start trying to remember what happened to my stuff.”

“Y’know, I’ve heard what the others said about me. That I was never any good.  That I was just put on your team because my uncle was the Emperor.  And maybe I’m still new to all this.  But I know… I know that you’re not gonna treat me like that anymore, Wolf,” Andrew began.

Wolf’s hand tightened further.  It seemed as though Andrew’s eyes were nearly bugged from their sockets, his weaker hands grabbing at Wolf’s hand.  Scoffing at the primate’s feeble attempts to flee, Wolf said, “That’s tough talk.  Why don’t you try to back some of that bark?”

He released his grasp around the heir’s neck, letting Andrew fall to his feet.  The ape stumbled for a moment, balling his hands into wrathful fists at his sides.  Rage spiked through Wolf’s veins like lightning strikes, conjuring flames that made him see red. 

I shouldn’t do this.  But fuck, I’m so pissed.

“Now, now boys…” Pigma began but there was clearly some glee in his pale irises.

“I don’t need to prove anything to you,” Andrew replied scathingly.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about what you did to that guy back there, but you made a mistake, Andrew.

Wolf’s response was a lunge with his clawed hands curled into fists.  Andrew leapt back.  Hands over his face, he staggered back a few clumsy steps but they were enough to evade the first hit.  However, he was not so fortunate with the second hit.  Wolf’s fist found Andrew’s forearm with such a force that he knew the simian would be sporting a bruise there soon.

You told me you weren’t sure if you can do it again.  At this rate, you’ll never learn.  Never tell anyone everything.  Especially your weakness.

Planting one foot on the tile, Wolf spun with a kick to Andrew’s gut.  The blow was not as deep as he would have liked but Andrew did fumble back.  He was losing ground fast as his tail brushed the wall.  The canine felt the recoil of pain in his leg from the removed splinter but his expression did not shift.  Wolf followed up with a second charge, but Andrew lithely evaded.  One of Wolf’s boots touched the wall and he used his continuing momentum to kick off from it, sending a follow-up punch down at Andrew.  The heir took the blow to the chin, falling back.  He kicked out with one of his feet, curling his torso to roll away.  The tip of Andrew’s boot caught Wolf in the jaw and the canine faltered back a step, grunting as he stepped awkwardly on his injured leg.

Ugh, need to be more careful.

But rage was an incubus and Wolf was fully in the demon’s embrace, drinking deep from pools of bitterness that had long festered in his mind.  With a bestial snarl, he ran at the recovering Andrew, blind to everything that was happening around him except for the blur of green that intercepted him. 

“Wolf!” Leon yelled, and Wolf felt the lizard’s firm grip upon his arms, blocking him from Andrew.  He struggled against Leon for a moment, his adrenaline and rage sapped as the pain in his leg grew.

            “Wolf, what are you doing?”

            Wordlessly, the canine let his arms fall to his sides and Leon released him, looking between him and Andrew with utmost apprehension. Andrew had a smudge of blood near his swelling lip, but seemed otherwise unharmed.  Wolf’s injured leg buckled for a moment, his left hand grabbing a hold of Leon’s shoulder.  The Venomian assassin stood firm for him, letting one of his thin arms snake around Wolf’s shoulder to support him until he could rise back up to his full height.

            “Leon, the guns,” Wolf tried to explain.

            “And how will you find them if you pummel him to death?” Leon asked him, his tone returned to its typical level of calm.  He glanced to Pigma, who was giddily stifling a laugh, lip curling into a frown before settling his gaze on Andrew.  “Andrew, where are the weapons Pigma gave you?”

            “I… I don’t know where the guns are,” Andrew admitted, tapping a finger near his swollen lip to feel the injury. “E-everything up to the bar… is kind of fuzzy.  It… might take me a bit to remember.”

“Well, best start thinkin’ real, real hard on what you did,” Wolf scowled at him. “Maybe tap into that mumbo jumbo or whatever and see if that can’t help.”

“It’s not ‘mumbo jumbo’,” Andrew repeated, exasperated.  “It’s… It’s something that I can’t…”

“It’s magic,” Pigma said simply, rubbing his nose.

“Magic,” Wolf said skeptically.

“You ever heard of a place called Cerinia?” Pigma asked. 

“Can’t say I have.  And can’t say I ever believed Andross was actually able to use magic.  Sure, he could do things I couldn’t explain.  But I figured it was just… y’know…” Wolf waved his hand. “Science.”

“Bwahaha, you didn’t go to school, did you?” Pigma asked.

“Hard to make every class when you’re being bumped around everywhere by the government,” Wolf said sourly.  His single violet iris fell on Andrew for a moment before he tore his gaze away.  Leon seemed to visibly tense but Wolf diffused it by stiffly walking back towards the corridor they had come from. “Think on what happened.  I’m gonna check the front of the factory, see if I can’t find anything.”

            No one replied and he departed into the corridor. Tendrils of pain shot down his leg, but he masked his discomfort, even if there was no audience.  As he walked, he cracked his knuckles, fingertips skimming over where he had struck Andrew.  The release of tension set his nerves alight, fueling the darker parts of him that craved a bloody catharsis.  Since he had been locked away in Chasma Penitentiary on his homeworld, he had felt his need for survival lock hands with his desire for violence, a union he knew was born from the piles of bad luck he had been given.

            ‘Don’t you ever get tired of nothing going your way?’

            He shoved the thought aside, telling himself sentiments were for morons and kept walking.

Stained walls and chipped flooring greeted him, the grime in their grout telling him how long it had been since they had been properly cleansed.  One of his claws lightly rapped the walls, listening to the shrill noise their collision made.  His leg ached the more he walked and he found himself a seat atop a sturdy crate near one of the cracked windows.  A thin veil of green had covered part of the glass, distorting the color palette of the Eladardian landscape.  Outside, he could see nothing but the stretching wasteland that the Cornerians had created.

            Am I really over what happened to the crew?

            The thought struck him like lightning, tearing at the foundations of who he thought he had become.  His lips liberated a burdened sigh as he allowed his mind to think of things he had not dare to think of in a long time.  His dream from the night before still weighed on him—phantoms played about in the shadows of his conscious, daring him to look their way.  In those quiet moments, he confessed to himself that their deaths still rested heavy on his heart, no matter what callousness he preached.  It was just business, he told himself strictly, and he would not fault Pigma for following orders.

In a sense, their current predicament reminded him of his pirate crew’s failed attempt to escape the Cornerians.  Wolf had led them on that raid to Katina, had led them into the jaws of death.  And only when hope had been lost, he had told them to run.  They had thought to outrun the Cornerians, but the Star Fox team had been there lying in wait.  Wolf still remembered the sound of his first-mate’s yell over the communications channel as his ship had been annihilated in the void of space.

I was late to call for the retreat and a damn fool to even think we could outrun them.

One stroke of bad luck after the other—Andrew was right; Wolf was tired of nothing going his way.

I won’t make those mistakes again. 

Tension left his shoulders when he was done mulling over his forbidden, sentimental thoughts.  His exhale was that of relief, letting his body lax in posture.  Wolf hated the internal councils he kept but they anchored him to sanity.  He let his nostalgia and sentiment dissipate into the air and he stretched.  A few joints crackled with discontent.

Alright, now we’re over that.  At least for the moment.  Let’s focus on the now. 

Wolf glanced over his shoulder and saw Leon standing in the doorway, the assassin’s arms folded across his chest.  The ex-space pirate gave a start, having not heard his wingmate’s entrance.  His posture straightened immediately.

“Didn’t hear ya,” Wolf confessed. “What’s goin’ on?”

“You are hurting,” Leon said and Wolf felt taken aback—even a bit disturbed—that the lizard had read him so easily.  Leon’s mouth curved with a frown. “Your leg.  Let us look at it.”

Oh.  Right.  The leg.

“Sure, if you wanna play doctor,” Wolf said, realizing only after how his words sounded.  Under his slate-gray fur, his skin warmed with embarrassment.  The awkwardness of his statement seemed to go completely over the assassin’s head and Wolf breathed a silent sigh of relief.  Regardless, Wolf rolled up his pant leg to show Leon the crudely-done bandage job.

Leon approached on silent feet, taking a knee to get a closer look at the wound.  His touch was tender, fluid as water coursing a river’s path.  He still wore gloves yet beyond them, Wolf could feel how careful the lizard was being as he unwrapped the bandage.  The assassin’s wandering eyes were locked fully on the bloodied cloths until they were all peeled away.  Leon’s expression was unchanging, but his gaze soon flitted to Wolf’s single eye.

“It is healing nicely,” came the verdict and Wolf exhaled out more tension.  Leon’s fingers danced around the wounds, causing tendrils of pain to trickle up the canine’s leg.  When Wolf winced, Leon’s expression grew apologetic.

“It’s fine, just not so nice feelin’ when you poke it,” Wolf reassured him.

“I can imagine,” Leon replied.  From his coat, he produced two things-- more bandages and a small circular container with a strange transparent gel.  He popped open the container and looked to the wound. “This will be cold.”

“What is that?” Wolf’s ears flitted back.

“My people called it ‘blood sealer’.  It is from a plant, harvested only in a particular part of the year.  The plant only blooms in running water and must be stored in darkness.  There were harvesters who would tend to the plant and create the gel itself.  It is said to seal wounds with incredible speed and numb the pain,” Leon answered mechanically.  The gel was cold to the touch and Wolf hissed softly as Leon applied it, continuing, “Even Andross was impressed by it when I showed it to him.”

“That certainly says somethin’.  Does it have any weird side effects?” Wolf asked.

“My father used to say that it would make him a bit more… favorable… to certain activities,” Leon began, his voice cracking and his sentence coming to an abrupt halt.

“What kind of activities?” Wolf narrowed his eye.

“S-sleeping,” Leon said quickly.

“Sleepin’?  I don’t got time for that,” Wolf retorted, starting to pull his leg away but Leon’s grip held it steady.

“If you do not let me do this, I fear your leg will become infected,” Leon insisted, though he did seem somewhat shaken. “And then… we will have to take more drastic measures.”

“Drastic measures…?” Wolf flitted an ear to the side.

“Worry not.  I am certain it won’t come to that,” Leon shrugged.

As the Venomian worked on re-bandaging Wolf’s leg, the canine stared out the grimy window.  The wind had picked up since they had arrived in the old factory, its touch harsh on the creaking walls.  Dirt stirred outside and when the wind reached its peak in speed, the distant, mechanical skyline of Corona was obscured.  Its crumbling buildings were no longer an eyesore in those sweet blissful moments and Wolf reflected on what Eladard had been when he had arrived all those years ago as an orphan.  Once, there had been trees and life—but that had been before Wolf and his siblings had set foot on the planet’s cursed surface. That had been before his lifetime, before the Civil War, even.

“Archie…” Leon began cautiously, gaze dragging slowly up to his leader. “…is the one who took your eye?”

The question blindsided the already sentimental Wolf and his head snapped in Leon’s direction.  Recoiling with fear, the lizard shook his head.

“I should not have spoken…”

“No one took my eye,” Wolf answered blandly.

“I see,” Leon answered. “Forgive me.”

“It’s fine,” Wolf could not force an ounce of emotion into his voice if his life depended on it and so he let his words fall out like bricks, clattering to the floor lifeless.

Movement from the corner of his peripherals caught the canine’s attention and he glanced over at a trail of dust rising from the distance.  His posture shifted and his ears perked with intrigue.  Leon took note of the change and swiveled his head in the direction Wolf was looking at.

“Our friends from the bar?” Leon asked.

“Maybe,” Wolf replied.

When the speeder came into sight, Wolf breathed a small sigh of relief.  The beat-up yellow vehicle was Lenny’s without doubt and as soon as the speeder made it to the factory’s front, Wolf was on his feet.  Instinct told him to check for his blaster and so he tapped it twice with two fingers to make sure it was there—just for precaution’s sake.  Lenny was an old friend, but Wolf could smell something foul in the air, and it was not just the musk of the abandoned factory.

“You should be careful on that leg,” Leon advised.

“We got missions to do, I don’t have time to be careful,” Wolf said haughtily and Leon only shook his head at him.

When they came back to the room with all of the conveyer belts, Pigma visibly perked at their approach.  Andrew had fallen asleep next to a tin bucket that seemed to be attracting more than a handful of flies.  The hog grinned from ear-to-floppy-ear.

“Ehhh guess the booze caught up with him,” Pigma shrugged. “Wassup?”

“Lenny’s here.  I want you and Leon on surveillance when I go out to meet him,” Wolf said, sweeping his eye between the two. 

“Hmm?  What’s that?  Don’t trust your pal?” Pigma raised his brows.

“It’s not that,” Wolf replied. “Don’t got time to explain.”  From his overcoat, he pulled his portable ear piece, tapping it twice to activate it. “Keep in touch.”

Without waiting to see their reactions, Wolf began down the hallways, towards the entrance.  A few dislodged pipes ran faint trickles of water onto the ground and his boots splashed through them as he walked towards the factory’s front.  Lylat filtering through the dirty windows gave the corridors an unhealthy olive atmosphere.  He gnashed his teeth, feeling nothing but the staleness of abandonment in the air. 

By the time he had reached the doors leading outside, his fur had begun to stand on end with nerves.  He ran a hand through it, trying to smooth it down.  Wolf made sure to check the window before exiting—the moment he saw Lenny hop down with two hefty black bags, he stepped from the factory and into the light.  Visoring his one eye with a hand, he called to his former boss.

“I was hopin’ that was you!”

The old croc shot him an exasperated look, plopping both bags down with little regard to their contents. “Yer a fuckin’ moron.  Could hear the damn scrap from the shop.  Are any of ya injured?”

“How touching for you to care,” Wolf said, placing a hand dramatically on his chest.  Lenny rolled his eyes.

“I care to see that necklace returned.  And maybe I got a soft spot for you,” Lenny harrumphed. “But that changes nothin’.  Nothin’ but the cost of yer ships bein’ repaired.”

Wolf’s jaw fell open, ears flitting back. “B-by how much?”

“Since I had to deliver yer stuff… Oh, I’d say ya get to give this old croc some of the loot ya were already plannin’ on swipin’ from Archie on yer way in an’ out o’ his mansion,” Lenny tapped his lengthy chin with thought.

“W-we weren’t gonna swipe—” Wolf began.

“Oh?  Ain’t that what pirates do?  They steal the loot?” Lenny quirked a scaled brow.

“I told you, I ain’t about that life now,” Wolf protested. “And I know you’re not the type o’ guy to really care much about trinkets.”

“Ya got me there.  But I care about retirement.  And I ain’t ‘bout to find a beach house here on Eladard,” Lenny gestured to the wastelands around them.  “So, I scratch yer back, ya scratch mine.  Ya know how it goes, Wolf.”

You old codger.  I thought you’d die before you even thought about retirement.

“Lenny…” Wolf began, but could not find it in him to argue.  “Ugh.  Fine.  We’ll snag you some shit ta sell.  Where’re you thinkin’ of going?”

“Zoness,” Lenny grinned. “Perfect place fer a croc like me.  I been workin’ on my beach bod.” He stroked his saggy, plump stomach and Wolf scowled at him.

“Alright, fine, we’ll get you some extra shit so you can get outta here,” Wolf sighed.  His forefinger and his thumb massaged the top of his snout.  Always one thing after the other.

“Good shit,” Lenny’s toothy grin somehow widened and though Wolf knew that he had just agreed to more grief, he somehow shared the croc’s smile.  “Anyways, I got the rest of your gear in these bags.  Oh an’ some grub, since y’all stood me up on breakfast.”

“Stood you up!?” Wolf asked, truly flabbergasted.

“Oh, ya know, I was gonna fix yer favorite Coronan-Crushed flapjacks.  I remember how much ya liked them, so I thought I’d…” Lenny began, scratching behind his massive head.

It took every fiber in Wolf’s body to stifle the grimace that threatened to invade his otherwise amiable expression.  He pressed the corners of his mouth in an upward turn, bushy white brows arched high over his mismatched eyes.  At the mention of the flapjacks, he felt the heat of vomit in the back of his throat, a burning memory from too many years as a scrapper.

“O-oh… how unfortunate,” Wolf replied. “Well, guess there’s always next time.”

The flapjacks had been, as Wolf remembered, disgusting to the taste and with a texture that would have made even a starving creature shudder.

“Heh, no need to wait, I packed ‘em in the bags.  Ya can share with yer friends,” the crocodile replied, gesturing to the factory.  “I know yer all holed up in here.  Just ‘member what I told you about this place, eh?”  His dark eyes glittered pointedly and Wolf gave a slight nod of confirmation.  Lenny’s grin returned instantaneously. “Good shit.  Now, take your stuff and head in.  I gots a few orders to take care of.”

Wolf took the sacks begrudgingly, praying to whatever deity could hear him that Lenny had packed something to at least go along with his atrocious flapjacks.  “Thanks, Boss,” Wolf said, letting the last word slip out unintentionally.  He saw the reptile stiffen for a moment, but then the old scrapper waved the comment aside.

“Yeah, yeah, jus’ don’ get yerself killed,” Lenny retorted and hopped back into his speeder.

Wolf returned into the safety of the factory a few moments later, greeted immediately by a salivating Pigma and an intrigued Leon.  The Venomian snatched one of the bags from Wolf’s grasp in an eager attempt to help, though he almost immediately peered down into the sack.

“What is this stench?” Leon asked.

“Food,” Wolf replied and the assassin made a face.

“I don’t give a damn what it smells like, just lemme at it,” Pigma snorted gleefully.  He teetered back and forth with childish giddiness, his milky eyes fixated upon the bag of food Leon was holding.  The lizard closed the bag abruptly and shot the hog a murderous look.

“Easy, easy, let’s take it to the back.  More cover that way,” Wolf suggested.  It’s like herding children.

           Andrew had not budged from where they had left him.  By the time that the three returned with food in hand, however, the simian youth was awakening albeit grumpily.  Pale irises shooting daggers through Wolf, Andrew was still partially leaned over his designated bucket.  One of his hands rested on his sunken-in stomach, the other rested on his cheek.  He did not say anything in greeting, though Wolf wondered if that was partially due to his high levels of nausea.

           “Heya, kid, ya want some grub?” Wolf teased and Andrew’s glare narrowed into needles of seething hatred.

           “Fuck you,” Andrew said simply and Wolf guffawed as he plopped down across the room. 

           “Leon, let’s take a look at what we got,” Wolf said and the assassin opened the bag. 

           The lithe lizard pulled forth a few containers with beans—likely frozen so that they would keep for longer.  Next came a loaf of bread, which Pigma dug into immediately, ripping the plastic seal and shoving two pieces down his gob.  Some unknown jerky was next, smoked with a scent that made Wolf drool.  A few muffins had been given to them, along with bagged chips and a container of lettuce (which Leon made a face at).  The bottom of the bag was filled with five containers of flapjacks and a travel-friendly tube of syrup.

           “The flat golden bread smells odd,” Leon remarked.

           “Yeah, I know,” Wolf sighed and grabbed some jerky and a muffin.

           “Get that away,” Andrew whined. “The smell makes me wanna… urghh…” He leaned over but from the sound of his sputtering, nothing came out.

           “Heh, regret it yet?” Pigma asked jovially as he shoved more bread into his mouth.

           Andrew gave no reply to the smug pig, but he did visibly perk up.  Cocking his head to the side, he sat shrouded in disquiet, lips pursed.  Wolf’s brow furrowed, gnawing on the stick of jerky he had taken.  Sole violet eye crawling over the Venom heir, Wolf felt the tension in the air rise with Andrew’s levels of concentration.  The monkey said nothing for what seemed like an eternity until he finally broke his silence with one, simple question.

           “Do you hear that?”

           Wolf strived to listen, perking his ears.  He could hear something faint in the distance, the noise muffled by the stern, steel factory walls.  He leaned in closer, nose giving a twitch.  Nothing could have braced him enough for the sound of a single bullet rocketing into the Eladardian sky, streaking through the heavens like a bat out of Hell.  Pigma nearly leapt from his skin, clinging onto the loaf with both hands.  Leon whirled towards the doors, drawing a straight-edged knife from his belt.

           “It came from outside,” the Venomian assassin advised them.

          “Damn it…” Wolf seethed, teeth gnashed as he made for the hallway.  Heart throbbing in his ears, he kept as low as he could while he made his approach to the first grimy window.  Claws toying with the gun at his hip, he chanced a look out across the wastelands and felt his stomach churn.

         At least twenty of Archie’s henchmen stood several yards away from the building’s entrance, their leader a bull touting a rather sizeable piercing in his septum.  His right foot was planted Lenny’s face, shoving it further into the dirt.  The old croc did not squirm. Instead, his eyes stared forward.  Steel and silence, his lengthy jaw set in defiance.

          “What is it?” Pigma asked from the doorway.  His chin was enveloped in his own saliva and bread crumbles had taken to forming a light beard about his maw.

          “They found us,” Wolf announced grimly.  The voice of the wind against the glass was an unpleasant creak that raised the fur on his nape, but in it, he could almost hear the laugh of his crew beyond the grave. 

Chapter Text

           There was a joke somewhere in their situation but Wolf could not find it.  Absent-mindedly, he patted the pocket on his dusty coat for a cigarette.  It was empty.  He uttered a string of curses under his breath.  If he had been superstitious at all, he would have guessed he was cursed with bad luck.  But Wolf did not believe in anything—anything but doing whatever it took to survive. 

          It wasn’t gonna be this easy.  I should’ve known that.                                   

          “Well shit,” Pigma rubbed his chin. “What now?”

          “Listen carefully—” Wolf began.

          “No time!” Leon yelled. 

          Heat and light filled the peripherals of Wolf’s vision.  He felt something land on him, the impact pushing him away from the window as it exploded with a noise that sounded like the world shattering around him. When his head hit the tile, the world became a haze.  Leon’s face was haloed in a blur, staring down at him in surprise.  Wolf’s ears rang for a few agonizing seconds.  His nostrils burned with the scent of smoke. 

          “Move!” Leon barked at the other two, the distinctive whirr of another incoming missile in the distance.  The assassin’s grip found Wolf’s collar and the infamous leader of Star Wolf soon found himself stumble-running after the lithe lizard.

          “How did they find us!?” Andrew shouted over his shoulder, moving with surprising speed given how he had been horribly hungover just hours before.       

          “They must’ve followed Lenny!” Wolf shouted right as the second missile hit behind them.  Small fires had begun to eat away at the decrepit building, slithering about the hallway slowly.  They merged together in tiny clusters, illuminating the dank and grim corridor with crimson light.

           “Did he not see if anyone was following him!?” Leon asked.                      

“He’s a scrapper, not a spy!” Wolf shot back.

“Well, he’s going to get us killed!” Andrew retorted.

“Take a right up here!” Wolf instructed from the rear of the group.  His strides were not as long as Andrew’s or Leon’s, but he was about to out-pace Pigma.  Another hit to the factory rumbled the floor for a third time but it was so far that Wolf felt himself breathe a small sigh of relief. 

They must think we ran the other way.  Good.  That’ll give us time to find it…

Andrew took the right as he was told, Leon following him. They stopped at the corner, pressing themselves to the wall.  When Wolf made it, he pulled Pigma around the corner with him.  Another blast sounded out in the factory, this one even further away.  Wolf might have felt relieved if he had not heard the unmistakable bang of a door leaving its hinges.

“We’ve got basically nothing,” Andrew pointed out frantically. “All our stuff is in that one big room…”

“Leave it,” Wolf said.

“Leave it?!” Andrew gawked. “And… and do what?  I didn’t even bring a blaster!”

“Well, that’s on you now ain’t it?” Wolf retorted. “There’s a tunnel under the factory.  Two hallways down and in the boiler room.  Right, left, then 3^rd room on your right.  We’re gonna make a run for it.”

His ear flitted.  There were footsteps in the distance.  Heavy, clunking against the tile.  A faint breeze brought their scents to his nose—they were their pursuers, undoubtedly.  He nodded to his team and began down the hall, beckoning wordlessly for them to follow.  His hand grabbed the handle of the blaster at his hip.  It was an older model, Macbethian-made with a prong at its barrel for melee combat.  He checked its central crystal before cocking it into the “kill” position. 

“What about your friend?” Andrew asked, running side-by-side with Wolf. 

“It’s four versus twenty, and the twenty have a bazooka,” Wolf replied. “We’ll rescue him.  But we can’t do it like this.”

“How do we know they won’t kill him now?” Andrew asked.

“We don’t,” Wolf answered grimly. 

Another explosion sent them stumbling.  It was far closer now—the floor above them.  The ceiling creaked threateningly.  Wolf’s ears pressed back and he sprinted.  He glanced over his shoulder as he heard the ceiling begin to give way behind him.  Pigma barely made it, looking quite alarmed as dust showered his backside.

Andrew gave a cry from the front and Wolf felt a jolt of adrenaline shoot through his tired body.  He surged forward, rounding the corner with his blaster in hand.  Andrew was wrestling with one of the thugs, trying to pull the man’s gun from him.  Defenseless, the simian clung onto his attacker’s rifle.  The thug, a head shorter than him but twice Andrew’s body mass, was clearly gaining on the young heir and so Wolf saw it necessary to fire a single blast at the henchman’s thigh.  As the blaster pierced and burned through his skin, the thug howled in pain and Andrew claimed the rifle.  

The second shot Wolf fired ended the thug’s pain.  His single eye found Leon, who had sunk twin daggers into another thug, pulling them out to engage a third henchman.  Four more cronies were incoming, heralding their arrival with hefty shots fired from their blasters. 

“I got this shit!” Pigma roared from behind.  He pulled a blaster out, its barrel clicking once to extend its length.  He fired a large, rounded beam of neon green at their attackers.  One was taken out immediately, the others pressed to the walls to avoid the shot.  Wolf did not have time to see what else happened; he watched Leon take a fist to the gut and launched himself into the fray. 

His opponent was a weasel with a crooked snout that had clearly never been repaired from the last time someone had punched it in.  His nails were filed to claws.  One hand grasped a straight-bladed knife and the other a small pistol.  Wolf’s hand found the weasel’s collar and he slammed him against the wall.  The weasel’s knife came down and Wolf leapt back a step to let it slice through thin air.  With a kick off the wall, the thug came flying at Wolf.  Blade swiping horizontal, it caught the inside of Wolf’s jacket, poking a hole through the material.  Wolf grabbed the weasel’s scruff and tossed him back towards the wall, cocking his position to fire at the weasel.  Desperation saw the weasel’s blade fly at Wolf’s face and the ex-space pirate quickly side-stepped.  The blade sliced Wolf’s left cheek, digging into his skin and cutting away his eyepatch.

As the leather fell onto the ground, he felt the coldness of the air around his maimed left eye.  It was used to the darkness, the warmth of the patch.  There was an urge to cover it—his glaring weakness, but he did not.  He fired at the weasel with a nasty snarl on his face, missing the first shot by an inch.  His opponent popped a shot at Wolf.  He side-stepped again, clumsier this time, pulling a shoulder back to make himself a narrower target.  The weasel lunged with a second shot and Wolf felt the heat skim over his arm as he evaded. 

Ughhh… it’s blurry.  I’m used to that eye being dark.  My balance is off.  My aim’s off.  Fuck.

“What’s the matter, doggie?” the weasel taunted. “Can’t you see where you’re shooting?”

Ha, ha so funny.  So very funny… He felt a growl rumble in his throat. 

“Move!” Leon yelled and Wolf ducked to the side as the lizard came in with a stab to the weasel’s chest.  The sound of the blade meeting the thug’s chest was loud and Wolf’s own chest prickled with unease at the thought.  Leon looked to Wolf for a moment, his eyes widening as he noticed that Wolf’s patch had fallen off.

“Ah… I can try to find—” Leon began, searching the ground.

“Don’t bother.  It’s ruined,” Wolf replied, dismally covering his marred eye with his left hand.

He turned and saw Pigma blast down the last thug.  The hog turned to the others, giving them a cheeky grin and beckoned for them to follow him.  Andrew rested the back of the barrel of his newfound rifle on his shoulder and followed.  Leon, his front splattered in crimson, took up the rear as Wolf found his place next to Andrew and behind Pigma. 

“Be careful, there’s more in the next hall,” Andrew warned them.

“You can see the future now?” Wolf asked warily.

“I can hear them, dumbass,” Andrew shot back and Wolf smirked in reply.  

‘Atta boy, Andrew.

Around the next corner were three more goons.  They were sporting armor—rip-offs of the Cornerian Defense Force gear.  Visors concealed their eyes.  One of them yelped in surprise and at once their blasters were trained on the incoming Star Wolf team.  As lasers danced down the rusty corridor, Pigma pulled back to the previous hall, holding a hand out to deter the other three from marching to their demise.

“How’d they get that tech!?” Andrew asked.

“Probably bought it,” Wolf replied.  He could hear their footsteps, their ragged breath.  His left hand remained over his blind eye, letting his other senses tell him where the enemy was.  He readied his blaster.

“This is Rockson, we got a visual on ‘em on Hall C.  Back up requested!” one of them was saying.

“Leave it to me,” Pigma said, pointing his gun at where Archie’s henchmen were sure to round the corner.  Instead, however, Wolf’s keen ears caught the lightest sound—a dainty clink that was the unmistakable chime of a grenade being loosed in their direction.  Claws digging into Pigma’s collar, the canine tried his best to pull the hog backwards before the resulting explosion.

His sole eye blinked once and the hog was in his arms.  Wolf had fallen back into a sitting position, smoke obscuring the damage done by the explosive.  He took a gander down at Pigma, who was unconscious in his lap. With a push, Wolf freed himself of Pigma’s lumbering form, taking care not to be too rough with the fallen Pigma.  The hog lay on his side and Wolf reached down to feel for a pulse.  His ears rang but there was a rhythm somewhere in the cacophony of the fight.

Footsteps, he realized as he turned to examine Pigma.  Primal fear saw his blaster come to his hand.  He pointed it at the source and fired immediately.  One of Archie’s cronies fell, their descent into death framed by the clearing white smoke.  Wolf stood up, looking at where the other two of the three had fallen.  Andrew stood over one of them with his rifle in hand.  His amber eyes were somewhere between cruel and sorrowful as he looked down at the warming corpse.  A perfect shot ebbed with blood just between the eyes, seeping through the glass of the thug’s broken visor.

“His fancy tech didn’t save him,” Andrew said quietly—so quiet, that Wolf was certain he had not been meant to hear it. 

“We got a man down,” Wolf announced, scanning the corridor.  One of the walls had been blown open, revealing the desolate Eladardian wasteland.  Leon stood a few yards away, plundering the radio off of one of the bodies.

“Pigma.  Pigma, get up!” Wolf said, his ears pinning back.

“That guy radioed our position in.  We will have company soon,” Leon warned him.

“Andrew, get ‘em up.  Leon, we’re gonna hold this hall if that’s what it takes.  No one gets here.  Got it?” Wolf asked and the Venomian gave a curt nod.

“Why me?” Andrew asked.  “S-shouldn’t you do this?  You’re um… you’re kinda missin’ your—”

“My what?” Wolf asked and Andrew quickly back-tracked.

“What do you want me to do about him?” Andrew gestured to Pigma.

“Can’t you uhh… do some of that magic stuff with his mind and wake him up!” Wolf said hurriedly.

“Oh sure,” Andrew scowled.  The simian looked down at Pigma.  With surprising force, Andrew pulled the unconscious Pigma into a sitting position, his fingers wrapped tight around the collar of the hog’s jacket.  Andrew shook him back and forth vigorously. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

“That’s… one way to do it,” Leon remarked.

Pigma’s milky white eyes opened after a few moments, blinking rapidly.  He stared at Andrew blankly before looking to Wolf and then Leon.  A knot was forming atop his skull like an awkward, red-crested peak.  He studied Andrew’s face again, squinting.

“Who’re you guys?” the hog inquired innocently.

“Oh you gotta be shittin’ me,” Wolf said in exasperation.

“Kiddin’, kiddin’.  Errr… what happened to ‘em?” Pigma asked, looking at the thugs on the ground.

“We happened to ‘em,” Andrew said with an air of cool confidence—an air that Wolf did not buy in the slightest.

“Can you get up?” Wolf asked Pigma, who obliged shakily.

“Ehhh yeah, I think I got this.  Thanks,” Pigma nodded.

“Let’s move,” Wolf said and they continued down the damaged corridor.

By the time they reached the final hallway, Andrew was in the front.  He grabbed the door handle to the boiler room, throwing it open for the others.  Wolf was a half-pace behind Leon, halfway to the opened door when Archie’s henchmen rounded the opposite corner.  They ran from the far-end of the grimy corridor, their lasers setting an eerie glow about the abandoned facility.  Wolf shot a few blasts back at them, shoving Andrew and Leon into the boiler room.  Pigma danced around the incoming enemy fire with some amount of grace before ducking through the open door.  Wolf was sure to pop both of the sprinting thugs in the head before slipping into the boiler room himself, clicking on the lock. 

“That won’t hold them for long,” Wolf warned them.

Leon pushed a crate in front of the door with some difficulty.  He looked to Wolf for approval, and the canine gave a stiff nod to appease the assassin.  Wolf turned his attention to the rest of the room, which was dimly lit by crimson emergency lights.  Pace still swift, he began forward, weaving his way through the large pipes that jutted from the ceiling. 

“Alright, where’s the exit?” Pigma asked, massaging a growing lump atop his head. “Ooh, it’s kind of dark and creepy in here… Like something might come out and getcha!”

“Don’t touch me,” Andrew grumbled.

“Worry not, Andrew.  If something does come, I will stab it,” Leon said firmly.

“My hero…” Andrew scowled at him.

As they bantered about uselessly, Wolf scoured the ground, looking at the way the tile had been made.  Ears back, he studied the pattern.  Smudges and stains blemished the once-white tile like nonsensical ancient texts, warning of a painful demise if they did not hurry.  Wolf felt a growl rumble from the depths of his throat.  There was a bang on the door.  His heart jolted, its beat nearly drowning out all other noise.

Where is it… where is it… Ugh, Lenny made it look so easy last time.  But I guess he has two eyes that work right. 

His single eye found the discrepancy in the flooring.  One of the tiles was tilted slightly in comparison to the others—subtle enough to go unnoticed by the unobservant eyes, stark enough of a contrast to irritate any with the meticulous need for things to be symmetric.  He pressed down on the tile and it clicked into place.  A cluster of tiles nearby slid away, revealing a large metallic door underneath.  Just as Wolf breathed a sigh of relief, he heard a much louder bang on the door.  They would be here soon.  

“Shuddap.  Here’s the damn tunnel,” Wolf announced, kicking the door open with a foot. “Let’s move.”

“How’d you know about this anyways?” Andrew asked, arms folded across his chest. 

“Long story, don’t got time,” Wolf shook his head and waved them all hurriedly through.

“Why would they have something such as this here?” Leon asked once Wolf had shut the door above them.

Enveloped in total darkness, Wolf felt the lack of light as though it was tangible.   His fur prickled, skin beneath it crawling with unease.  From his jacket, he found his lighter.  With the flick of his thumb, he ignited it.  Their bodies cast uncanny silhouettes on the steel tunnel walls.

“Back in the Civil War, places like this would procure a lotta minerals.  Valuable goods.  But the refineries had loyalties—to the old prime minister,” Wolf explained, voice low.  There was a noise outside, muffled by the thick tiles.  He gestured for the others to follow him.  “Some o’ the miners didn’t like that.  So they would use these tunnels to get the goods to the rebellion.” 

“An’ do those guys know about this?” Pigma asked, pointing towards the ceiling, where the boiler room lay.

“Doubt it.  They’d own these streets if they did,” Wolf shook his head.

“How far does it go?” Pigma asked in intrigue.

“All the way back to Corona, if we wanted.  This is the furthest it gets from the city.  That’s accessible still, that is,” Wolf shrugged.  “Some of the old paths didn’t survive the last bombing Eladard saw.  But never mind that, we want to head back to Corona anyways.  Keep your blasters at the ready.  Who knows what we’ll find down here.”

Leon handed Wolf a flashlight, which the canine gratefully substituted for his lighter.  Wolf led their grim expedition through the tunnels beneath the factory, still keeping his maimed eye concealed by his left palm.  Though metal had framed the initial mile, the corridor they walked spilled into a wide, natural cavern.  A few broken lanterns were embedded into the sides of the stone walls, their lights having been extinguished years ago. 

“How’re you feeling, Pigma?” Andrew asked, breaking the silence.

“I’m okay,” Pigma shrugged.  “If anything, I think ya gave me whiplash.”

“Sorry…” Andrew scratched the back of his head.

“No you aren’t,” Pigma laughed, his boisterousness echoing into the darkness.

They fell back into silence.  Wolf eventually learned to let his left hand drop to his side.  Their feet fell into an off-beat rhythm, the flashlight exposing nothing but the lonely path ahead.  The underground was silent except for them—their breath was as loud as a maelstrom and their feet sounded like gunshots in the abandoned tunnel.  Wolf wondered when the darkness under the factory had last been used.  Perhaps its last visitor had been none other than a young Wolf, eye bloodied and half-carried by a stern-faced croc. 

I never thought I’d be here again.  And on the run from Archie’s damn troops.  I’d rather be fighting the Cornerians.

It was hard to think that just a month ago, they had been in the thick of the Lylat Wars, conquering planets in the name of their insane employer and fighting against the dogs of Corneria.  Wolf was not sure if time had flown by him or if every day had just felt like twenty apiece.  The weight of it all rested on his shoulders, burdening his aching back and pulling at his legs. 

What do we do when we’re off this rock?  The Cornerians aren’t gonna think we’re dead that easily...  He snuck a glance back at Pigma, who was limping along harmlessly.  He hasn’t been acting too weird lately.  Maybe being cut from outside contact is why.  As soon as he has access to any sort of communications, I need to keep an eye on him.  I don’t trust that hog as far as I can throw him…

His exhaustion wore on him with every step.  If he was not stressed about Lenny, then he was stressed about Pigma.  If he was not thinking of the inevitable encounter with the Cornerians, he was thinking about Archie.  His grip tightened around the flashlight’s handle and he marched onward with a set jaw and racing thoughts.

Retirement.  That sounds nice around now.  Somewhere off the map.  A hideout of my own.

But he was virtually penniless and there were not many places for a fugitive to retire.  Besides that, Wolf dared not get his own hopes up—the world was cruel and it had given him little reason to ever hope.  He wished he could have said that he had chosen this life.

“Y’know, there’s bound to be other mechanics we could turn to once we get to the city,” Pigma suggested.  “Don’t gotta be your friend.”

“We ain’t doin’ that,” Wolf said, not even looking back at the other three.

“Wolf,” Andrew sighed.  He heard a set of boots behind him stop.  With a gander over his shoulder, he could see Andrew had opted to linger slightly behind the other two.  Pigma slowed to a stop as well and even Leon looked dismayed as he came to a halt, staring at the ground.

“It was one thing when we took the job.  Now this?” Andrew said, the hint of a whine in his tone.  It grated against Wolf’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard.  The simian’s amber eyes reflected off the flashlight’s glow as Wolf turned to face them.

A mutiny? 

“I just want to know—” Andrew began.

“Shut up,” Wolf said to him, turning his focus to Pigma and Leon.  “Say your pieces.  He’s whined since we left Venom.  I don’t wanna hear it anymore.”

“Heh, just seems like shit odds,” Pigma shrugged, rubbing his snout with the back of his wrist.  “All for some nostalgia thing… heh, seems like a stupid thing to die for.  I ain’t about that life, Wolf.”  Something in his silvery irises glowed like a threat. “You know.”

You’d sell me to Archie if it got you off this rock.  I know that completely.  Just like how you tried to sell us to the Cornerians… Ugh.  Why I don’t just blast your damn head off, I will never know…

“And you?” Wolf asked Leon.

 The assassin studied Wolf’s face.  There were traces of exhaustion in his expression, hidden under his large eyes and curling his mouth into a permanent scowl.  Part of his sleeve had been burned off in the melee, revealing his muscled shoulder and a tattoo. 

“Your eye,” Leon said quietly.  He looked like he was going to say more, but was having serious second thoughts.

The area around the milky, blank eye twitched.  It burned with his growing self-consciousness, the bared skin prickling.  He turned away so that his unmarred side was exposed to them, ears back. 

“Go on,” Wolf prompted in a low, gravelly voice.

“It was taken by a bear.  Archie Ursus… is a bear,” Leon began.

Sneering, the canine turned away from them.  “I told you.  He didn’t do this.”

This again?  They’re so invested in this drama, you would think they’re a bunch of middle-aged Cornerian women, gossiping and making theories like this is some soap opera.

“There is a reason you’re—” Leon started again.

He turned back to face them and that was enough to shut Leon up.  Andrew cringed on the lizard’s behalf, holding his hands up defensively.  Pigma did not seem to budge but looked even more intrigued. 

“Fine!  You nosy fucks.  Ya want the truth?  Ya wanna know why Archie wants me dead?” Wolf’s violet iris danced between the three.  Leon looked visibly hurt, withdrawing back a step. “Well, listen here. I fucked him over.  Stole from his stock when he wasn’t lookin’.  I didn’t think anything of it.  Just wanted to get enough credits to get my family off of Eladard,” Wolf snapped. “Thought I was slick back in the day.  Guess not.  Now he’s branded me fer death.”

“You stole from him?” Andrew asked incredulously. “All of this because you STOLE from him?”

“He’s not a guy that takes gettin’ slighted too well,” Wolf retorted.

“Why didn’t you just give whatever you stole back?” Andrew asked and Wolf fought the urge to throttle him.

“It’s not about what I stole.  It’s about that I dared to touch what belonged to him,” Wolf replied. “He didn’t like it.  So he…” His hand tightened around the flashlight’s grip, nails digging into the rubber of its handle.  “… He decided he was done with me.”

“Done with you?” Pigma inquired, not even bothering to hide his glee at getting insight into his leader’s background. 

Wolf flitted an ear to the side in irritation. “You’ve hit your question limit of the day.”

“Were you and him…?” Leon’s eyes stretched wide.

Wolf stared at him for a moment before understanding the lizard’s meaning. “What?!  Fuck no.  What do you take me for?” Leon did not answer the question and Wolf scowled at him. “No.  I used to…” Pause.  Sigh. “I used to work for him.”

“Ohhhhhh,” Andrew said. “Everything is starting to make more sense now.  Except… wait, I thought you worked for Lenny!”

“Yeah, that was my day job,” Wolf scowled. “But it didn’t pay enough.  Had three mouths to feed back then.  I would moonlight as a guard at one of Archie’s warehouses—where they kept the good stuff.  That’s how I was able to pinch it.  Undercut his prices, had a few customers of my own…”

“What did you sell?” Andrew asked, raising his brows.

“Story-time’s over.” Wolf grumbled, rubbing his forehead. “My old boss has a hit on me.  It’s not somethin’ I’m proud of.  And it’s not somethin’ I like talkin’ about either…”

“And then he took your eye,” Leon concluded in a very matter-of-fact tone.

“You’re still wrong,” Wolf scowled, covering his exposed eye with his free hand. “Anyways, I know we could go to any mechanic.  But Lenny.  Lenny’s the guy who got me off Eladard before Archie could skin me alive.  And I mean that literally-- Archie is a creepy fuck.  So call it a… A sort of life-debt.  And no, none of you have to care about it.  I don’t expect you to.  But you’ve been seen with me now so you’re on his hit list too.  Might as well stay an’ see how this all plays out, huh?”

“Heh, Wolf,” Pigma remarked with a cunning twist of his lips. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Lucky or cursed, I’m not sure which.

“I will follow you regardless of what happens,” Leon said plainly. “Going our separate ways does not benefit us.  Any of us.”  His shifty eyes fell upon Andrew.

“If I was going to leave, I’d have left by now,” Andrew said huffily.  Wolf did not believe him but he gave the young heir the benefit of the doubt.  He was still a greenhorn after all.  Andrew picked at one of his nails, adding snootily, “Besides, I don’t wanna die because you got us in this mess.”

“Oh, sure, I wasn’t the one antagonizin’ folk at the bar,” Wolf scoffed.

“I wasn’t antagonizing anyone,” Andrew scowled.

“Well, you could’ve fooled me with the way they kicked your ass outta there,” Wolf retorted, coming to a halt.  “Let’s take a break.  Legs hurt.”

They sat in the dark for some time.  Wolf rested his back against the rock wall, sitting next to Leon.  Andrew sat on the opposite side and Pigma wandered off to find a place to use the bathroom.  Wolf used the flashlight to look over his leg, marveling at how it had held up during their skirmish.  He caught Leon’s sideways look as he rolled his pants leg back down. 

“It is healing,” Leon said, clearly pleased.

“Doesn’t hurt like it did earlier.  Guess your plant-thing worked,” Wolf replied and Leon seemed to brim even more with delight.

“How is your cheek?” Leon asked.

“Just a tiny cut.  I’m more pissed about the eyepatch,” Wolf remarked gruffly.

The Venomian gave pause, studying the darkness with a stoic expression.  His next words came out gradually, selected with precision only an assassin would have. “We can find another, I am sure.”

Chapter Text

Had the others not followed their fearless leader into the abyssal hell of the tunnel system, Wolf was fairly convinced that he would have lost his goddamn mind.  The darkness ebbed like a tide, uncanny images scurrying in the shadows like vermin.  When his violet eye shot in their direction, the shadows stilled.  His heart raced a little faster than he would have liked to admit.  He tried to hide the tremble of his hand by forcing a shiver through the rest of his body, grumbling very pointedly about the cold.  But he was not cold at all.

He was afraid.

Fear was something Wolf had come to understand was a natural part of life.  Existence yielded fear because mortal hearts always found things to fear.  Somewhere in his pirating days, Wolf had learned to embrace his fear and manifest it into other things—begrudged resolve, in some instances, and in others, excited enthusiasm.  His fear had saved him many times.  The one time he did not fear, he ended up in Macbeth’s Chasma Penitentiary.  The rest was history. 

Since arriving on Eladard, Wolf had become afraid.  He had embraced it, clutching it as tightly as he could with his claws… but it had slipped away.  The darkness did not let him embrace it.  Instead, it whispered things to him, tormenting his mind with the silhouette of a broad-shouldered bear.  He could hear something dripping in the distance, its slow, thick sound reminding his notched ears of blood seeping from a corpse. 

I’m not afraid of the dark, Wolf said to himself, hearing something skitter along the wall to his left.  He whirled in its direction, shining light onto the dark rock wall.  Nothing was there.  It’s just this place brings back memories.  And they were not pleasant ones.

“Are we there yet?” Andrew whined.

I’m not even dignifying that with a reply.

“Wolf?” Andrew pestered.

One of the ex-pirate’s ears flitted to the side.  He glanced at the ape with his sole functioning eye.  Why the world gave him fancy as fuck mind powers and not me is a cruel twist of fucking fate. 

“Bit longer,” Wolf said shortly.

“Okay,” Andrew replied sullenly.

“I’m gonna take a leak.  Be right back,” Wolf announced bluntly and wandered a ways ahead of the slow-going trek to relieve himself.  When he had finished his business, he turned away from the wall and felt something drift close to him.  Instinctively, he lashed out with a clawed hand, seizing it by the arm. 

When he pulled the unknown closer to him, he realized it was Leon.  His ears pinned back, nose wrinkled with suspicion.  The lizard quivered in his grasp, looking up at his leader with wide eyes.

“What the hell you doin’?” Wolf demanded in a low voice. 

“I wanted to speak with you for a moment.  Without the other two,” Leon whispered back.  “I… I apologize… I could see no other opportunity…” He looked away.

Wolf frowned but released him nonetheless. “And what’s so urgent?”

“This pathway is… dark.  Very dark.  Easy for a body to be lost in…” The lithe assassin explained, his tone growing more and more quiet with every syllable.  “Pigma…” He need not say any more.

“We’re not killing Pigma,” Wolf said at once and watched Leon’s shivering hope melt with the order. 

“W-why?” Leon asked.

“What we’re about to do, we need every gun on our side,” Wolf replied. “Once we’re off Eladard… well, that’s a different story.”

“Wolf… I do not think he gave Andrew the guns.  I think… I think he hid them,” Leon whispered.  “He is very clearly trying to undermine our attempts at leaving Eladard.”

“He gave Andrew the weapons to have him cause shit.  Pigma’s a creature of chaos, always has been ever since we met ‘im.  But at the end of the day, he’ll help us.  He has to,” Wolf answered.  “He’ll die here if he doesn’t.”

“And how do you figure that?” Leon asked with narrowed eyes.

“Because he knows that the Cornerians will be tipped off eventually.  And it won’t necessarily be by him,” Wolf shrugged.

“And how do we know it won’t be by him?” Leon asked, eyes narrowing even further.

“If he’d tried to tip the Cornerians off, they’d be crawling all over the region lookin’ for us.  But they ain’t,” Wolf shook his head.  His ear twitched and he could hear Andrew and Pigma coming.  “Trust my judgment on this, Leon.  It’ll work out.”

My old crew trusted my judgment and now they’re beyond dust, adrift in space.  But Leon doesn’t need to think about that right now.

“If you say so,” Leon said, but his doubt rang heavy in his words.

“Please tell me you’re done,” Andrew said.  Even in the dim lighting, Wolf could see the white-furred simian was covering his amber eyes with a hand.

“What do you think?” Wolf asked him with a raised bushy brow.

Andrew peeked between his spidery fingers, seeing the fully-dressed and decent Wolf standing before him with his hips on his hips.  The would-be prince gave a dramatized sigh of relief, wiping away fake sweat from his brow.

They walked onward into the damp, desolate void beneath Corona’s outskirts.  As the path sloped downward, they were greeted with black water, it surface holding an uncanny sheen.  Wolf felt its cold touch beyond his boots, letting it lap against the middle of his shin.  It reeked and he did not want to know why. 

“I found something,” Pigma said after they had trudged for some time.  He clutched a miniature, emergency flashlight.  Its narrowed, blue-tinted beam was focused upon a collection of white, misshaped rocks scattered in the corner of the crossroads.  They protruded from the water like rocks in the midst of rapids… but Wolf knew better.

“Don’t think too hard on it,” the gruff ex-pirate advised them.

“That looks like a ribcage,” Andrew began uncertainly.

“That is a ribcage, Andrew,” Leon replied nonchalantly.

“People died here?” Andrew asked Wolf with stretched-wide eyes.

He’s still so green that it hurts.

“Why are you surprised?” Wolf asked.

Andrew did not answer.  His golden eyes merely stared at the set of bones, expressionless save for his gradually furrowing brow.  Wolf took in his demeanor in the dim lighting, tracing over the bitterness that was beginning to radiate from the young would-be prince.  He sensed familiarity.  Even the hardest criminal started off somewhere.  Even the hardest criminal began as a wide-eyed novice, still blanching at corpses.

          “Oh...” Wolf heard the hog say and looked at where Pigma was shining his meager light upwards, onto the faces of a few grime-ridden skeletons dangling from the ceiling.  They had been strung up what appeared to be ages ago, their toothy smiles caked with dirt and mysterious black ooze. 

“Jeez!” Andrew squeaked.

“They have certainly been here awhile,” Leon remarked calmly.

“This place has seen a… variety of faces,” Wolf explained darkly. “Some are nicer than others.”

“Gods… is that a fucking child?” Andrew pointed at a much smaller skeleton.

“Don’t think too hard on it, Andrew,” Wolf advised him.  The simian’s amber gaze fell on him with disbelief.  His eyes cut like daggers, but the ex-pirate’s apathy reflected their blades.  The dead were dead.  They could not cry.  They could not scream.  Wolf could not summon up enough energy to care about nameless skeletons strung like lights from the ceiling.  A sigh frosting his breath, the ex-pirate dragged his gaze away from the stale corpses.

“Let’s keep goin’.”

An hour passed and Wolf felt his stomach churn.  His nostrils had gradually become accustomed to the rank stench of death, stale water, and grime.  The back of his throat burned softly as he thought of what they were stepping in, but he did not let himself throw up.  He kept his jaw set and walked onward. 

The abyssal tunnel system had almost gnawed his senses to shreds by the time they reached the end.  A ladder’s steps had been embedded into the wall of the cave, leading up towards a hatch.  Wolf’s unfocused gaze traveled up the ladder and then back down.  He stepped forward, testing the first foothold before committing his weight to it. 

“Is this it?” Andrew asked and Wolf gave a silent nod in reply as he began up the ladder.

When he made it to the hatch, he cautiously pushed up on the handle to open it.  It shuddered before yielding to him, thrusting upward and showering the battered team in the sparse moonlight.  Wolf pulled himself out, his blaster in hand as he looked about the deserted alleyway.  Ears swiveling, he listened for any prying bystanders before turning to help Pigma up.  He offered his hand, a grim expression on his face as the hog gripped his arm.  With a heave, Wolf pulled Pigma up, the momentum carrying him back two steps.

“Heh, smells good to be out here,” Pigma remarked with a cheeky smirk.

“First things first.  We’re hittin’ the goddamn showers,” Wolf ordered in a gravelly voice.  He helped Andrew up, then Leon.  The hatch closed with a hefty thud that he was almost certain awoke the entire neighborhood.

“Do we really have time for showers?” Leon asked, shaking a glob of something unknown and brown off of his boot.

“At this rate, Archie could probably smell us coming.  Let’s go back to Lenny’s and regroup,” Wolf replied.

“Won’t he suspect we’ll go there?” Pigma snorted, scratching his nose and smearing goo onto his snout carelessly.

“You got another place for us to go?” Wolf asked, quirking his brow. When Pigma did not reply, Wolf shook his head, sheathed his blaster, and started walking. 

The alleyways of Corona were scarcely attended to, as evidence by the cans and other trash that lay scattered about the asphalt.  Puddles lingered in potholes on the road.  A cluster of storm clouds rumbled in the distance that Wolf could not see for the decrepit buildings that surrounded his feeble team.  A raindrop plopped onto his nose, then another onto his forearm.  His pace quickened.

Quiet streets greeted them.  A few store signs were illuminated in the darkness, their neon pinks and greens glaring starkly against the grey backdrop of the once proud city.  They passed by a bar, its interior lit with a warm yellow glow from the lights.  From the window, he could see a group of men shooting pool with fat cigars poking from their lips.  A lady sat in one man’s lap, draped over him like a limp linen.  The next building they passed was a store, an old wrinkle-faced rat sitting on her rocking chair with a rifle poised in her lap.  Her toothless smile to them was savage enough to make Wolf keep walking with his gaze set on the horizon.  Two hobos sat under the lip of an aluminum window that had been strapped on to serve as an impromptu ceiling to a short shack of a house.  They stared at Wolf, eyes like daggers upon him.  He did not spare them any pity.

By the time Lenny’s shop came into sight, a light rain had begun to fall over them.  Wolf’s boots squeaked with each step.  The four found their way to the shop’s porch and Wolf grabbed the door handle.  He tested it, expecting it to be locked but found that it was not.  The door opened and he let go of it, letting it creak wide.  His gut churned; something felt off.

“Ugh, can you please hurry up?” Andrew groaned. “It’s starting to really come down out—”

“Shh!” Leon said and Wolf silently thanked him for it.  Andrew indignantly folded his arms and scowled at the hog, but he cooperated. 

Silence emanated from the shop.  Lights off, it dwelled like a corpse, a husk without its shop keeper and its begrudged employees.  Closing his maimed eye, Wolf focused his single violet eye into the maw of the dark abode, feeling his slate fur raise with building nerves.  His hand rested on his blaster’s handle.  Ears perked, he studied the high pitched ring of deathly quiet, feeling its sound wash over him.  His nose twitched.  With how disgusting the others around him smelled, he could scarcely make out any other scents adrift in the air.

He took one step forward.  The floorboards whined.  Wolf’s ears swiveled.  Nothing.  He breathed out.  More worries dissolved into the stale air.  As he stepped to the side to let the others through, Andrew let the door slam shut behind them. 

“Easy there, don’t wanna have to repair that when we’re done with this job,” Wolf remarked to the youthful heir, who stuck his tongue out in reply.

The canine rolled his eye and proceeded towards the vacant front desk.  A few papers sat atop the desk—poorly scribbled out instructions for the scrapper crew if they should return before Lenny did.  Wolf felt his insides twist into a knot at the thought of them coming back to find their boss missing.  Some of them wouldn’t care.  Others would.  Blood would line the streets.  It was an age-old tale in Corona.

“Well, this place seems untouched so far,” Andrew remarked, leaning against the front desk. “So, think he’s got any real food in his kitchen?  This… place has a kitchen, right?  You Eladardians eat, right?”

“I’m not Eladardian,” Wolf growled, but his eye caught movement in the hallway behind Andrew—the hallway leading to Lenny’s shop.  The man’s silhouette manifested from the shadows.  In the span of a millisecond, Wolf took in the stranger’s appearance—a bulldog, sporting a tactical vest over a sloppy off-white shirt, and a pair of black cargo shorts with boots.  His under-bite was set in a permanent, jeering snarl.  He had a hefty blaster in his hands.

Ears erect, Wolf pulled his gun out at the encroaching thug, firing off one shot.  The bulldog’s reflexes were too slow and he toppled over with a hole burned through his chest.  Andrew yelped, covering his head with both hands. He began to stammer something out, but Wolf did not care to listen.

“Search the shop!  There could still be more!” Wolf snarled to the other three.  He ran for the far side of Lenny’s shop, darting up a set of squeaky stairs.  As he made it to the top, a bulky raccoon came barreling at him.  A silver glint caught Wolf’s eye as he clumsily dodged to the side, slamming himself shoulder-first into the wall.

A knife.

He grabbed the thug’s outstretched wrist and turned it, pulling his opponent towards him.  A firmer twist and the knife fell out of the ruffian’s hand, clanging down the stairs.  A fist met the side of Wolf’s head and he stumbled back into the wall.  Hand gripping the top of the stair’s railing, he steadied himself and lashed out with a foot into the raccoon’s stomach.  As the raccoon recovered, Wolf aimed a potshot.  It seared the thug’s cheek.

Goddamn it, this eye makes it impossible to fucking aim!

The thug pulled his pistol out but ate a laser in the face before he could fire. With a thud, the raccoon lifelessly fell to the ground, blood seeping from the wound at his brow.  Wolf stepped over him and kept moving.  He could hear a few shots being exchanged downstairs, his heartbeat quickening.

Down the upstairs corridor, there were only three doors.  The first one was a small closet, holding nothing but dust and old coats that looked more akin to quilts from all of their off-color patches.  The next door was a bedroom—Lenny’s bedroom, from the looks of it.  Past the bed was a side table littered with random objects, a family photo, and a small gun that he no doubt kept for self-defense purposes.  Wolf scanned the room, glancing at the photos on the walls and trying not to think too hard about them.  He could not help but notice a girl recurring in every single one, her eyes soft with the twinkle of hope and her smile faintly resembling Lenny’s mischievousness.

When he confirmed that the bedroom was clear, he moved onto the last room—a bathroom that was in need of cleaning.  He glanced at the shower, noting the curtain hanging from its rod. He pushed the rest of it back with his blaster, finger halfway squeezing the trigger.  No one was in there, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. 

“Upstairs is clear,” he announced upon returning to the shop’s entrance.  Leon was cleaning blood off of his knives and Pigma had two heavy bags flung over his shoulder.  From the blood seeping through, Wolf could tell they were freshly-made corpses.  Grimly, he watched Pigma walk out the back door with them.

“How’d they get the jump on us?” Andrew asked, sending Wolf an accusing glare. 

“Aren’t you the psychic?” Wolf asked. 

“I told you,” Andrew began with a huff. “I can’t control it!”

“Well, I suggest you start hurrying on that.  Or else we might end up like those assholes Pigma just took out back,” Wolf remarked, then looked to the hog as he came back in. “There’s another one upstairs.”

“Heh, figures.  I thought I’d give ‘em a dirt bath,” Pigma shrugged. “Beats leavin’ ‘em to stink up the place.”

“Fair,” Wolf nodded. “I’m sure Lenny will appreciate that when he gets back.”

“You said you had a plan,” Leon spoke up, clicking his knives back into their sheaths. “Shall we hear it?”

“Once we’ve cleaned up and gotten a moment to relax,” Wolf replied, sweeping his gaze across the other three. “Between the four of us, we need to at least have one brain functioning.  And I ain’t convinced we do at the moment.” 

“Did we ever before this mess?” Pigma grinned and trundled towards the stairs.

“I guess that’s up for debate,” Wolf shrugged. 

He departed out the back door, noting the shovel Pigma had staked in the ground.  Silently, he wondered if Lenny would ever care to excavate his backyard.  Accidentally stumbling across the thugs’s bodies could prove mildly traumatizing to the old scrapper, but Wolf figured Pigma’s idea was better than nothing—and that was the moment in which the canine knew he was exhausted. 

Stepping into the dormitory, he cast a glance at the endless sea of bunkbeds, feeling his legs wobble with the need for rest.  He forced himself to keep moving down the narrow aisle and towards the showers.  When he eventually reached one of the shower stalls, Wolf began to peel his clothes off.  Each layer felt merged onto his fur but he wrested himself free from its grasp.  With an unpleasant splat noise, each article fell to the stall’s floor in a heap.  He turned the water on, putting the heat onto max.

Closing both his maimed and functional eye, he let himself get lost in the artificial rain, feeling the grime banish itself from his fur.  The warmth from the water breathed life into his limbs and he sighed with pleasure as he stood underneath the spray from the showerhead.  He thought to pick up his clothes from the floor but the muscles in his back complained, so he left them there.  Running his claws through his fur, he let the shower cleanse him of the tunnel’s putrid touch, his worries floating momentarily away.

I wonder how Tala and Ralph are managing these days?

It was not terribly often that he thought of his siblings—not anymore, at least.  He was certain they had been able to manage after he had left Eladard the last time.  They had deserved better than the hell he would have brought upon them.  He tried to imagine what they would look like but his tired mind had trouble even concocting their faces.  Exhausted, he scrubbed himself down, ears perking at the sound of another entering the room.

“It’s just me,” Andrew heralded his arrival. “I helped Pigma dig the hole for the bodies.  Leon’s gone back to the ship to get us some more supplies.”

“He went back?!  Alone!?” Wolf asked, alarmed.          

“Yeah, he said we’d just slow him down,” Andrew replied nonchalantly.

“Ugh…” Wolf grumbled. “I wish he hadn’t.  If Archie’s bastards see him…” It could spell trouble for us.  A lot of trouble.  They’ll know we somehow got out of the factory and made it back.

“Leon’s the sneakiest guy I know,” Andrew remarked.

“How many ‘guys’ do you know?” Wolf asked.

“Not that many,” confessed the simian. “But enough to know Leon will be okay.”

He’s such a rookie that it hurts sometimes.

“He’d better be,” Wolf remarked, his tone diminishing into an ill-pleased grumble.

By the time he had stepped out of the shower, feeling cleansed enough from Eladard’s filth, the sly chameleon had returned with a dufflebag slung over his chest.  Wolf, clad in little but a towel around his waist, felt his fur prickle as Leon wordlessly began to dig through the clothes.  He hesitated slightly before handing Wolf his muted crimson and black flight suit.

“We’re gonna stick out like a sore thumb in these,” remarked Wolf.  He took the clothes into one arm, holding them by clamping his forearm to his torso.  His other hand remained as security to make sure his towel did not drop. 

“It’s all we had,” Leon replied.  “I grabbed some weapons too.  They are under my bed.”

“How did you carry all of that?” Wolf asked.

“With my arms,” Leon retorted and Wolf flicked an ear back.

“That’s the worst joke I’ve ever heard.”

“I… was not joking?”

“Then color me impressed.  I didn’t think a scrawny guy like you could lift all that much.”

“Heh,” a smirk wound its way across the lizard’s snout.  “Weakness is culled at an early age on Venom.”  Leon’s vivid irises dulled with thought—memories, no doubt, of his homeland. 

 “Don’t go gettin’ sentimental on me.  We got a mission to outline, guns to check… We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us tonight,” Wolf replied, voice lined with amusement.  “Thanks for the clothes.”

“There’s one more thing,” Leon began tentatively, extending his hand.  Wrapped around his palm was a piece of ebony cloth, torn in a roguish fashion.  When Wolf held it up, he admitted there was something rather stylish about it.  His fingers ran over the fabric—it felt soft enough to bury his face into it and snooze.

“And this is?” the canine cocked his head.

“It’s not a real eyepatch… but it was the best I could find…” Leon stumbled over his words, his pupils focused on something—anything—other than Wolf. 

“Oh.”

Tenderly, Wolf wrapped it around his head, letting the smooth fabric rest over his maimed eye.  Leon helped him tie a knot, which rested gently against the back of his head.  A glance in the mirror and Wolf could not have said the makeshift eyepatch did any favors to his spiked fringe of hair, but it helped steady his vision.

“Thanks, Leon,” he glanced at the chameleon, whose scales had begun to shift in tone around his slanted cheeks. 

“Mhm,” Leon said stiffly, a few scales prickling to life in a vibrant ruby shade.

He stepped back into the stall to change into his flight suit.  When he donned the jacket, he marveled for a bit on the material—it was custom-made to fit him, tailored to perfection by a poor, innocent Macbethian that Andross had nabbed just for the job.  She had used a certain type of hardy material that made it flexible but firm enough to take some hits without the threads breaking.  Wolf vaguely wondered what had happened to that tailor after everything had gone down on Venom.  If memory served, she would have been on the base.  His stomach churned at the thought. 

“Geez!  Thanks for the help, Andrew!” Pigma huffed as he staggered into the bathroom.  Dirt clung to his voluptuous form, a comical clump situated between his tucked-over ears.  To Wolf, the hog whined, “He left me to finish burying all those bodies!’

“You kept yelling at me,” Andrew protested from where he was leaning against the white-tile wall, picking at his nails. “So I decided you could finish it.”

“Sometimes, I feel like this team’s mother instead of its leader,” Wolf remarked.  “Job’s done, right?  Nobody gonna find them?”

“Right,” Pigma nodded with a bloodthirsty grin.

“That’s all I care about.  Good work, Pigma.  Go hit the showers.  Please,” Wolf shrugged and walked out of the bathroom. 

When Wolf found his bunkbed, he felt his joy strike him with dizzying ecstasy.  He fell into it, hugging the stiff and uncomfortable pillow to his face.  He buried his nose into it, smelling the distasteful, yet nostalgic aroma of the dormitory.  Steel, dust, and wood—they mixed in the air to form a perfume and settled onto everything in sight.  He savored that sentimental smell, feeling his stress seep from his body.  Each limb gradually loosened, relaxing into the springy, ratty mattress he lay on.  His feet hurt too much to complain about how his bed sat uneven.  His mind was too exhausted to form words about how hungry he was.

It was another thirty minutes before the others joined him.  Their footsteps tore the canine from the light doze he had fallen into and he turned his tired head to face them.  When he saw their expectant expressions, he sighed and grumbled.

“I don’t want to get up.”

“Now who’s the whiny one?” Andrew scoffed.

With a scowl, Wolf sat upright.  The world flashed around him, spinning chaotically but he steadied himself with a hand on the railing of the bunk.  A growl still frosting his breath, he corrected the young heir.

“I said I didn’t want to, I didn’t say I wasn’t going to.”

They settled into a few dingy, steel foldout chairs, positioning them in a circle.  Leon had taken the time to draw out a map of the mansion on the hill, resting his makeshift canvas of cardboard in the middle.  Though he did not say it, the reptile seemed to radiate with a sense of smugness over his elaborate depiction of Archie’s manor—which, Wolf had to admit, was fairly impressive. 

“So first things first,” Wolf began. “Archie’s whole mansion runs on a few generators.  Leon’s been so kind as to draw us a visual map.  Y’know, for them uh… visual folk.”  To emphasis Wolf’s point, the reptile helpfully gestured to the generators on the mansion’s map—which were marked in dark blue with triangles.

“Thanks for the map,” Pigma said, delighted.

“Is that a map or an abstract art piece?” Andrew asked, squinting his eyes at the cardboard canvas.

“I’d like to see you do better,” Leon shot back and the simian looked beyond offended.

“No.  Stop.  Focus back in.  The faster we do this, the faster we get to have dinner,” Wolf snapped. “The thing about these generators, though, is that they’re not strong enough to sustain the energy going around Archie’s mansion if even so much as one of them goes out.  It’s… not great planning on his part.  But it’s good fer us.”

“So we take one out.  Easy-peasy,” Pigma nodded.

“Except the generator is powering the electric fence around the manor,” Wolf replied.  Leon, on cue, gestured to the perimeter of the map, which was adequately labeled with a flurry of lightning streaks all around.

“Oh… bummer,” Pigma remarked.

“So that seems like a bust,” Andrew sighed.

“The fence covers Archie’s yard, but it doesn’t do shit to anything that comes at it from the sky,” Wolf replied. “So Pigma, that’s where you come in.”  And nearly the only reason you’re still alive.  “You’re the best here when it comes to programmin’ and mechanical stuff.  Think you can program an old scrapper to crash into the generator?”

“Heh, I can give it a looksee,” Pigma shrugged.

“After that, Leon will climb the wall and let us in to the east—that’s the opposite direction of where the crash will take place.  While the guards are runnin’ to see what’s goin’ on up front, we’ll go through the east door.  Power will be down, the cameras won’t be workin’,” Wolf continued.

“That really is bad security planning,” Andrew said, rubbing his chin.

“I told ya,” Wolf shrugged. “Once we get inside, we’ll divide into two teams.  Pigma and Leon—you’ll go after the necklace.  It’ll be in his treasure room… and… yes, he does have one o’ those.  Andrew, you’ll be with me and we’ll go after Lenny.”

“And who takes out Archie?” Andrew asked.

Ahhh yes, the million-dollar question.

“Nobody,” Wolf answered firmly.

“Huh?” Andrew blinked at him.  “And why not?  The guy seems like nothing but trouble, we’re just gonna let him live?  After all the hell he’s put us through?”

“He’s not worth tangoin’ with, trust me on that one.  We’ll let him keep his life an’ we’ll rob his dignity.  This is easy shit.  Don’t fuck it up,” Wolf declared, his violet iris scouring the other three for any signs of mutiny. 

Andrew had a protest lingering on the tip of his tongue, but it died there as he gave a sigh, sinking into his chair further with arms crossed over his chest.  Pigma rocked back and forth in his chair, its front legs leaving the ground just to crash back onto the floor in an unsettlingly loud thud.  He smirked as Andrew flinched.  Stoic, Leon merely nodded to Wolf, hands tucked politely into his lap.

“Good.  I’ll check weapons.  Pigma, you’ll start on programmin’ the scrapper.  Leon and Andrew, you’re on dinner duty,” Wolf instructed them.  “Daybreak and we should be beyond ready to go.  Any questions?”

“Here’s some extra cash for food,” Pigma slipped Leon a few bills with a wink. “Got it from a friend in town.”

“One of your mysterious contacts?” Leon asked, eyeing the money skeptically.  He held it daintily between two fingers, as though it were infected.  After a quick observation, the lizard glanced to the hog inquisitively. “Mm this is a fair amount of money.”

 “Heh, he owed me.  And somethin’ tells me he ain’t gonna need it anymore anyways,” Pigma shrugged and stood up.  “Welp, I’m gonna start at my task.  Lemme know when you’re back with the grub.”

“Will do,” Wolf said and the others departed.

The silence their absence let in was starkly different from the disquiet of the tunnels.  Wolf sat in it for a few long minutes, letting himself bask in the familiarity of his surroundings.  His gaze wandered to the window.  Outside, the moon had been swallowed completely by thunderclouds.  Electricity brimmed in devilish forks that struck out into the feral lands beyond the decrepit Corona cityscape.  He could feel each boom of thunder in his bones.  When the rain came, it sounded like hisses upon the glass of the window.  The wind howled.

Pitch black dwelled outside in an unfathomable layer of darkness that devoured all sight.  However, it was not the storm that Wolf thought of.  His mind traveled to the lonely mansion on a hill.  Behind its armed fence and legion of sentinels dwelled their fates, intertwined with a lunatic, an old mourning crocodile, and a necklace. 

He checked the core crystal of his blaster with a grim scowl.

Hang in there, Lenny.

Chapter Text

Given the frosty welcome they had received when they had returned to Lenny’s shop, Wolf had thought it prudent to rotate the guard.  He was leery of letting Pigma take the first watch, so he volunteered himself.  The hog had not minded, babbling something about wanting to make tweaks to the scrapper ship he had been working on.  Wolf remained in the dorm as Andrew and Leon slept, holding a radio the Venomian had plundered off of one of the corpses Pigma and Andrew had buried.  He traded it between his hands—back and forth in a rhythm as he looked outside at the streaks of rain that cascaded softly down in grungy layers.  Keeping the volume low on the radio, he held it to his ear each time he heard it buzz to life.  Nothing felt out of the ordinary on the channel—standard check-ins and things of that nature.  Wolf leaned against the cold of the window, its temperature keeping him awake long enough for Leon to tag in a few hours later.  Wolf traded him the radio and slipped into his bunk, whisked away swiftly by the comfort of his bed.

He awoke well before the sun did, restless when he realized what the day would bring.  In silent attempts to domesticate his building anxiousness, Wolf went through their weapon stash.  He took stock of everything, his knee bouncing with untamed unease.  Destiny was in the air.  He could not tell if it tasted bitter, sweet, or both. 

Daybreak found Eladard’s decrepit capital a wet ghost town.  The thunder, wind, and rain had subsided but the ominous gray clouds loitered.  They were unfriendly, freshly emptied of their downpours but not moving onward.  The wind had died; and so they remained like fresh corpses.  Humidity clung to Wolf’s slate-colored fur, so thick that it warranted a slight grimace as soon as he stepped from the dormitory.  Despite getting a few hours of rest, he felt his exhaustion weigh him down.  Rubbing his eye, he stared out across the yard, towards where Pigma had dragged out one of the old scrapping ships.  Andrew was standing next to it, inspecting it with great scrutiny.

“I’m pretty sure I saw this in the garbage can yesterday,” the simian remarked as Wolf approached the two.  “Or parts of it, at least.”

“I got ‘er done,” Pigma said, proudly standing before the rigged up scrapper ship.  His hands clasped his hips and his snout was marred with his toothy grin.  Andrew’s commentary did not seem to affect him in the slightest. 

“And she’ll fly?” Wolf asked, raising a bushy brow at the hog. 

“Like a birdie,” Pigma promised.

“A birdie with a bullet in both wings,” Andrew’s muttering did not escape the canine’s keen ears.

“Heh, there is a catch, though.  I don’t think she’ll make it far and turnin’ is gonna be impossible.  Gotta position ‘er and set her on a dead-on course.  So there’s that,” Pigma shrugged.

“That’s not too big of a setback,” Wolf considered aloud, one of his claws itching at the pointed scruff of fur at his chin. “We can make do with that.”  He hesitated, realizing the words that threatened to come out were genuine.  “Good work, Pigma.”

I don’t trust a man who with a history of selling out his own wingmates, but I’ll admit, the pig knows what he’s doing.

“Thanks!” Pigma grinned.

“Let’s get this show on the road before it gets too light out,” Wolf said, glancing overhead at the thick blanket of angry, gray clouds. “Where’s Leon?”

“Here,” Leon said, manifesting behind him.  His sniper rifle was slung over one shoulder, his waist adorned with sheathed daggers of various sizes.  A small pistol hung at his right side, a muffler attached to its nose. 

“Didn’t hear ya there.  Since we’re all accounted for, let’s head to our spots.  Pigma, you’ll need to fly the scrapper ship to the hills on the east.  The rest o’ us will have to walk,” Wolf instructed.  “Everyone got their earpieces?”

They all nodded in return.

“Good.  Pigma, signal when you got the scrapper in position.  Meet us as soon as you can,” Wolf said.  And if you run, I’ll make it my goal in life to make sure you never run again. 

“Heh, sounds good, Boss,” Pigma grinned at him, giving him a lofty salute.  Wolf bit back his need to roll his eye at the cheeky hog.

   When they departed, Wolf found himself skirmishing against that feeling of unease that had been creeping up his spine since the moment they landed in Corona.  It had become like a tide, pushing and pulling his emotions, eroding the callous mask he had spent years crafting.  His violet eye watched Pigma’s modified ship putter questionably into the sky.  Smoke billowed from the engine, clogging the already polluted air.  Its stench drifted past his nostrils and he wrinkled his muzzle in distaste.  He glanced from the rickety ship to the other two.  A small nod signaled he was ready to leave and there were no protests to be had from the others.

Their walk was a crawl along the streets, keeping to the alleyways where the prying eyes of Archie’s band would not find them.  A few drifters dug in a garbage dump, partitioned by a chain-link fence.  Andrew grimaced visibly as one gave them a toothless smirk.  When he noticed Wolf’s glance, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked sullenly after the other two.

Gradually as they walked, the withering city fell away behind them, giving way to the low wall that surrounded the outskirts.  Trash heaps burned, their foul perfumes so rank that Wolf held his breath.  A few somber looking trash handlers wandered about the piles, making sure the fire did not escape.  Their expressions were devoid of emotion; their clothes stained with dirt and grime. 

This place is just filled with zombies.

“Ugh, why didn’t we pack any gas masks?” Andrew complained as they rounded the corner, the broken gateway in sight down a long asphalt road.

“I ain’t got the coin for that,” Wolf replied. 

“Smells of melting flesh,” Leon remarked. “They’re burning corpses.”

“I don’t wanna know how you know what that smells like,” Andrew retorted.

The breeze picked up, a small blessing as it banished the disgusting aroma.  Inhaling, the canine savored the freedom bequeathed upon them.  With his muffled gun, Leon sniped a camera positioned near the exit from the Eladardian capital to the wildlands. The camera fell to the ground with a small buzz of electricity, it’s recording light fading. 

“Aren’t they gonna notice that?” Andrew asked.

“Not before it’s too late,” Wolf answered.  “Nice spot, Leon.”

“Thank you,” Leon said with the dip of his head.

Stepping through the gate and walking into the open wastelands felt like a betrayal of everything Wolf knew to be right.  His hand rested on the handle of his blaster, crudely slung at his hip.  Ears perked, he listened—nothing.  A single tumbleweed rolled by.  His jaws clenched together with nervous thought but he made himself check the other two.  They were behind him, looking to him with expectant eyes.  Not saying a word, he pressed onward. 

Though the land surrounding Corona was flat and open, the abandoned factories outside of city limits watched them like obelisks from a time that felt like distant memory.  Their skeletal frames were on the verge of collapse, early sunlight peeking through shambling walls.  Wolf paused in the shadow of one, taking a moment to look at how rust had eaten away at the walls. 

Their communication channel crackled to life with Pigma’s voice, “Heh.  Made it to the spot.  Just say ‘when’.”

“We’ll let you know when we get there,” Andrew said firmly. 

There was a loud crackle on the other side of the radio—loud as thunder and so sudden that the canine jerked his head away from it.  Wolf tossed Leon a glance and the reptile gave a subtle, cold nod.  Andrew’s brow furrowed. 

Is this where he makes his move?  Now?

“Uh, Pigma, what are you doing?” Andrew asked, adjusting the volume on his earpiece with a slight cringe.

“You said ‘when’, didn’t you?” Pigma said, his grin so evident in his voice that Wolf could almost visualize it.

“Pigma,” Wolf began in a low voice. “I know you’re a lot of things.  But you’re not a dumbass.” 

   “Heh, just havin’ a bit o’ fun, Wolf.  Geez, you need to lighten up,” Pigma snorted back.  “I’m testin’ her functions one last time before we start.  Can’t be too careful.”

“Riiiiight,” Wolf muttered.  The canine took a brief moment to feel the adrenaline that had momentarily spiked through his veins.  Ears pulled back, he gave a quick, deep inhale.  His exhale did little to loosen his shaken nerves but it did help calm the tremble in his hands. 

I’m growing soft.  These emotions can’t keep getting the better of me.  This is just another mission.  Just another ordinary mission.

He felt their stares.  Violet eye snapping in the direction of both the reptile and the simian, Wolf gruffly beckoned them to continue following him.  Leon’s callous face relented threads of concern but his thoughts went unvoiced.  Andrew scratched behind one of his pointed ears, looking every direction but Wolf’s.  As a leader, he thought to say something—“Let’s stay focused” or “Keep moving” but the words evaporated from his mouth before they could be spoken.  His dry throat itched.  The canine turned and started walking, the stale Eladardian wind brushing through his slate-hued fur.

The flatlands soon became hills, littered with rubble and volcanic rock.  Wolf had almost forgotten the volcanic nature of Eladard—its lifelessness made it hard to think of how many active volcanos there were dotting the planet’s surface.  Corona had been built safely away from them, of course—the Cornerians were many things, but they were not foolish when it came to their colonization efforts.  He ran a claw over one of the jagged boulders, feeling how time had worn down its ridges.  Part of him wanted to laugh—it felt like an apt metaphor.

A noise caught his ear and he glanced over his shoulder to detect its origin.  It was a churning noise, soft in volume but strange in contrast to the dryness of the flatlands.  White brows knitted with concern, Wolf glanced behind the other two before realizing that the strange gurgle was coming from Andrew.  The simian sheepishly scratched his neck, color brimming in his cheeks.

“What?  It’s not like we had much for breakfast,” Andrew grumbled.

Sighing, Wolf unzipped a small container strapped to his belt.  A granola bar was plucked from within, held daintily between two of his sharpened claws.  He tossed it to Andrew, who caught it with a stunned expression. 

“I… didn’t know you…” Andrew fumbled.

“Just eat it.  I always keep food on me.  Just in case,” Wolf replied with the twitch of his tipped tail.

“Are you sure?” Andrew asked.

“If your stomach keeps growling, Archie will hear us comin’,” Wolf remarked sourly. “Eat up, and do it fast.  We’ll be in sight of the manor before long.” 

Andrew did as he was told, scarfing down the granola bar as they crept between abandoned facilities.  By the time he finished, the hill in which the manor sat had come into view in its decrepit glory, guarded safely behind the electric fence.  Wolf could tell at some point, the mansion had been a gift bestowed from the General to a faithful soldier.  Perhaps it was a highly regarded captain in the military.  Perhaps it was an aristocrat.  Whatever the case was, Wolf had little doubt they were still on the planet—alive, at least. 

“Let’s back up,” Wolf said to the other two.  “We’re on the south side; we need to be on the east.”

They kept a wide berth, clinging to whatever cover they could find.  Daybreak had begun to manifest into the early morning, the fiery colors of sunrise fading into a gentle blue.  Wolf’s ears pinned back as he glanced at the sky.  They had taken too long, he knew.  It would be easier to see them coming since it was lighter out.  Briefly, he wondered if they should have waited until dark again—but, no, that would have been risking too much.  Archie was a fickle creature and Lenny was not built to last a long torture.  Wolf silently resolved himself to accept whatever was about to happen.  He had rolled the dice too many times for everything to come out sunshine and rainbows. 

They found shelter in a cluster of boulders that had formed an undercrop.  Leon’s scales had changed to a deadened grey, blending with the bleak environment that surrounded them.  Antsy, the lizard peeked around the corner at their destination with a hard gleam in his eyes.  His thin fingers tapped the hilts of knives in his belt, counting them silently.  Andrew sat down for a moment, amber eyes glazed over as he looked out at the distant horizon.  The way his fingers twitched and fumbled with each other, Wolf was beginning to worry the boy was starting to chicken out from the mission.

“Focus up,” the canine said gruffly, tapping his earpiece twice to activate it. “Pigma.  We’re in position.  How is the missile looking?”

“She’s ready to go.  Once I fire her off, I’ll go to meet you guys as soon as I can,” Pigma replied.

“Got it,” Wolf said with a nod.  “Leon, you’ll be up after him.  Make sure you’re ready.”

“I always am,” Leon said quietly, checking his sniper rifle again before strapping it to his back. 

“I’ve still got their radio, so I’ll be able to hear if we’re good to go in.  Let’s make ‘em regret messin’ with us,” Wolf said.  From the other side of the line, he could hear Pigma flare up the scrapping ship’s engine.  It was time.  Whether his emotions were stabilized or not.  They were going to dive into that den of despair and Wolf could not even tell what would happen next.

“She’s positioned.  Engines are a-go…” Pigma said over the communications channel.  Time painstakingly slowed before the hog confirmed. “She’s en route.”

“Leon,” Wolf said, looking to the Venomian.  Leon gave a subtle nod, his scales as pale as death. 

The scrapping ship came into sight like a disjointed, rumbling comet from the heavens.  Black smoke wheezed from its exhaust pipes.  It crackled as though it was on fire but its failing engines kept it afloat.  Wolf pondered if Pigma had done anything at all to give the ship’s flight that effect or if it was naturally so damaged?  It soared with the grace of a wounded duck, sputtering oil and smoke.  He saw it barely crest over the electric fence.  The subsequent crash thundered throughout the hills.  Wolf glanced at Leon, who began his stealthy run towards the fence, crouching low to the ground. 

“Was it a hit?” Pigma asked breathlessly. 

“I hope so,” Wolf replied.  “Hard to tell from down here.  Leon, check the fence before you climb it.”

A half minute later, the lizard replied, “Yes, it was a hit.  Climbing now.”

Wolf peeked around the boulder, watching Leon masterfully scurry up the side of the fence.  He moved fluidly, like a jetstream of water that could be stopped by nothing.  He made it to the top of the fence, hopping over and vanishing without a second thought.  Wolf felt his heart quicken with anticipation. 

“Eastern guards dispatched,” Leon’s voice crackled over the intercom.

“C’mon,” he gestured to Andrew. 

They broke from their cover.  Wolf drew his blaster out of instinct, violet eye scanning the fence.  The gate began to open, slowly with a groan that sent his fur standing on end.  He prayed the other guards would not hear it over the commotion going on with the failed generator and burning pile of scrap metal.  He checked his blaster’s settings, ensuring it was on lethal force.  There would be no mercy this time around.

Leon stood in the gateway, blasting down a guard coming around the bend with his rifle.  He turned and looked at Wolf for a moment before putting his eye back to the rifle’s aiming scope. 

“A few noticed,” the lizard commented. “But they are dead now.”

“Did they call it in?” Wolf asked fearfully.

“No,” Leon replied. “But we should hurry.”  He tapped his earpiece.  “Pigma?  How far out are you?”

“I can see it, I just…” Pigma huffed. “Why’d you… make me… run so… far….?”

“It’s good for ya,” Wolf retorted. “Leon will stay here to let you in.  Once you’re here, you two will look for the necklace.  Andrew, let’s try to find Lenny.”

From the eastern gate, the two began across the back lawn and towards the patio area.  Old, moss-grown fountains sat in disarray behind the mansion, their eyes silently screaming through the grime that painted their marble bodies.  A nude woman etched in stone posed with a scarf around her torso, her arms broken off and her tail tip chipped away.  A statue of General Pepper lay in a myriad of shattered pieces on the ground, his face staring at the sky gravely.  Green, stagnant water pooled in the corner of the lawn, the fish within dead and floating.  Untamed rose bushes grew rampant, their aroma barely able to banish the stench emanating from within their thorns.  Wolf stalked by them, not wanting to look too close—not wanting to see what they might have been hiding.

He blasted a camera hanging in front of the back door, his boots hitting the pale grey stone of the patio.  Tediously crafted pillars supported the overhang that shaded a pleasant dining table that had not been sat at in a decade.  Wolf did not spare it a glance, making for the door and cautiously cracking it open with the barrel of his gun pointed in front.  He heard Andrew behind him, struggling to keep up with Wolf’s steady, brisk pace.

The canine opened the door all the way, letting the morning light fall onto the dining room.  Fancy china sat by the dozens, their smooth, ornate surfaces rusted over in glassy cabinets.  A few chairs had been toppled over messily and the carefully-crafted rug beneath had been torn to shreds by distinct claws.  Wolf’s muzzle wrinkled with the threat of a growl but he bit it back.  Wordlessly, he gestured to Andrew to follow him down the length of the dining room. 

A cold hearth sat on the far side.  Curtains blocked the view of the patio, the cloth home to a million mothballs and to thick layers of dust, fur, and dirt.  It reeked so badly that Wolf chose to breathe through his mouth as he walked by.  The tip of his boot touched a few shards of a broken plate.  He glanced down at it and opted to ungracefully step over the rest of the shatter mess.  By the time they reached the end of the dining area, he could hear the footsteps of guards running about the hallways ahead.  He held his gun up and a peripheral glance at Andrew made him aware that the simian was strictly following his motions.  The corner of the grey wolf’s lip curled in satisfaction. 

Fire off one shot in here and it’s bound to get hairy.  Good thing we have mufflers on our blasters.  Hopefully that’ll be enough to not give away our position too fast…

Stepping lightly, Wolf began down the hallway, careful to maneuver around the various decorative tables and cabinets.  A few extinguished candelabras sat with cobwebs covering the wax candles they held.  A few scenic paintings hung on the walls—one was a cityscape picture of Corneria City.  Another was an image of Zoness’s heavenly beaches.  A third was of the thick jungles of Fortuna.  Wolf pondered how much they would cost and decided to not think too hard on it – they did not have the time or resources to pinch many extra goods.

A guard suddenly emerged from around the corner.  He was a pathetic brute, a hound with a grossly exaggerated under bite and eyes that drooped from too many drug uses.  Wolf felt his hand clutching his blaster snap forward but it was Andrew that fired first, searing a hole through the guard’s neck.  He went down without a sound, dead before he hit the gaudy, faded sanguine carpet. 

“What was that?” someone in the distance grunted.

“Here we go,” Wolf said under his breath.  He pressed against the wall.  Footsteps were in the distance, a shadow dancing on the wall ahead.  He could see the hallway widen out into a room—a spacious, glass-ridden reception room with grime eating away at the painted images in the windows.  His forefinger lightly touched the trigger to his blaster, the barrel aimed forward.

“No, remember our orders. Stay here.  Boss or his bitch’ll string ya up if ya move from ya post!” another voice chattered back. 

“Heh… I don’t even get it.  Why’s he wantin’ us stickin’ around here for?  It’s not like anyone’s gonna be stupid enough to try to break in,” the first voice continued.

It was the guard’s famous last words.  Wolf rounded the corner, sunlight dazzling through the grimy windows like diamonds in his peripherals as he turned.  His Macbethian blaster found the first target—a wide-eyed lemur with a protective vest on, dwelling midway up a flight of fancy stairs. The first shot hit the guard in the chest, the second hitting his forehead.  As the second guard backpedaled with a cry of shock, Andrew dispatched her with another keen shot to the head.

He’s been getting better at that lately. 

Wolf began up the stairs, stepping over the bleeding corpses.  He heard Andrew’s footsteps falter for a moment and the canine snuck a glimpse at the simian.  The would-be heir was glancing down at his fresh kill, amber eyes glossed with a melting pot of emotions.  His lower lip stiffened and he eventually pulled his gaze away, eyebrows furrowed with hardened emotion. 

The padding of feet on unflinching marble floor tiles alerted Wolf and he turned in time to see a third guard.  In slow motion, he saw the guard grab his radio, thumb pressing down on the ‘TALK’ button.  A panicked blend of a snarl and a shout escaped the canine’s maw, fangs bared as he fired a single, fire-red shot into the guard’s chest.  The single hit seared through his vest, through his heart, stealing away his life before his corpse hit the ground.  Wolf heard the crackling static from the other side of the radio.  No one uttered a word from the other side. 

“Do you think…?” Andrew voiced Wolf’s thoughts, but the grey canine merely shook his head. 

“Keep movin’,” Wolf replied darkly.

They ascended the stairs hastily, Wolf moving up two steps with each stride.  A dust-ridden chandelier hung over their heads, its fake candlelights dimmed eternally.  The bulbs were cracked, a mere breath’s caress away from shattering into innumerable pieces.  Wolf let the claws of his left hand skim over the old, dried wood of the ornate rail.  At the crest of the staircase, which curled onto the second floor, the two spilled into an open hallway with a rolled out red carpet.  Other hallways branched off the main corridor like small veins but Wolf’s feet knew the way.  Where there were guards, there was something to guard.  And that something, the canine knew, was their target.

“This is Pigma,” the hog’s raspy voice condemned their ears, volume screeching loud against the stilled disquiet of the manor.  “We’re on the first floor, looking for the vault.  Any ideas where it’s at?”

“North wing, third floor,” Wolf whispered back, keeping his eye ahead and his finger halfway squeezing the trigger of his blaster. “Should be behind a big black door.”

According to the blueprints, at least.

“We will find it,” Leon promised in his quiet tones.

Not a second after the lizard spoke, a guard stepped into view—a dingy looking alley cat with an evident case of mange.  His shaky hands brought up his pistol to fire and Wolf’s finger finished its squeeze.  The laser missed, burning a hole in the wall.  The alley cat fired back.  Wolf ducked and in the background, he heard Andrew fumbling.

“What was that?” another voice sounded out from the distance.

Shit!

Not a moment of hesitation passed—the ex-space pirate threw himself at the feline.  A second shot scorched the canine’s fur, burning open the sleeve of his right shoulder.  The pronged blade at the end of his blaster found the cat’s ribcage, thrust in and upwards with a sickening crack.  The guard screamed—there was no sense of stealth now.  Over his shoulder, Wolf snarled a single order at Andrew.

“Get ready!”

He pulled back from his enemy.  As the alley cat fell to the ground in a fading, bloodied mess, Wolf detected the sound of footsteps up the stairs.  A cautionary glance at Andrew and he saw the simian turn with a spray of lasers bursting forth from his blaster at the incoming henchmen.  Wolf’s ear flitted back at the sound of more footsteps coming from ahead.

Fuck… they’ll surround us if we’re not careful.

Feet planted shoulder-width apart, Wolf pointed his Macbethian blaster at the running guards.  One of them carried a baseball bat, riddled with nails.  One of them carried an old rickety machine gun, strapped about the guard’s chest as he assimilated it.  Panic shot adrenaline through Wolf’s veins and he unleashed a flurry of blasts at them, pearly fangs bared in a savage snarl.  They fell together, a single stray shot fired from the machine gun as the guard collapsed.  The shot tore through the ceiling, carried skyward.

“Augh!” Andrew’s cry alarmed Wolf and the ace pilot was at the simian’s side in an instant, staring down the staircase.  Four new bodies littered it, but that was no longer his concern.  He glanced at Andrew, quickly noting how one of the monkey’s large hands violently gripped his side.

“Damn it,” Wolf breathed.  “C’mon.” He grabbed a hold of the monkey and dragged him into the hallway, free hand still clutching the handle of his blaster.  An alcove nearby caught his attention and he pulled Andrew into its safety, letting the youthful heir rest against an old, creaky credenza positioned with an assortment of expensive glassware.

“Move your hand,” Wolf ordered in a quiet voice, as to not alert anyone else.  “I need to see it.”

Andrew obliged, moving his hand to reveal the burn mark of a laser that had caught him.  White, fluffy fur from his coat surrounded the blackened wound, framing its ugliness.  Wolf winced on his behalf, gaze dragging from the wound and to Andrew’s cringing expression.

“That really hurts,” Andrew whimpered.

“Can you keep going?” Wolf asked him. 

“Keep…?” Andrew faltered, his amber eyes sweeping about the rugged hallway.  The heir took Wolf’s words into careful consideration, swallowing back his pain.  Wolf saw glassy tears fleck his ashen eyelashes.  “Y-yeah, I’ll keep going.”

“We’ll be outta here soon,” Wolf grunted. “Just hang in there.”

Wolf began down the hall, blood still dripping off the blade attached to his gun.  He stepped over the corpses he had made, keeping his violet gaze ahead of him.  Andrew hobbled along after him, his gait uneven from his injury.  He spared the Venomian heir no glance of pity and no further words of encouragement—that would not get them through the day. 

Something seized his left ankle. 

Wolf nearly jumped clean from his skin, his grip tightening on his

The bloodied alley cat looked at him, eyes faded and nearly unseeing.  His claws nipped through the fabric of Wolf’s pants, fingers trembling as death slowly came for his diseased, frail body.  Dark liquid oozed from the corner of the guard’s mouth, staining the carpet. 

“He’ll… find you…” gurgled the cat.  “Remember… he… always… wins…”      

With his free leg, Wolf reared back and kicked the dying feline in the face, silencing him for one final time.  Fur standing on end, the canine did not dare look to Andrew.  Shaking his leg free from the dead cat’s grip, the ex-space pirate stalked down the hall, desperately ignoring how his teeth chattered and his heart raced.

Silence had taken up residence in the musty old mansion.  Wolf did not trust it—not in the slightest.  He held his blaster at the ready as he prowled the corridor, rounding the corner to find a fork in his path.  Twin small staircases led to two rooms on a floor above them but it was neither paths that caught his attention.

Positioned perfectly between them, hung on a wall and framed in curling, carved gold was a portrait.  Two figures had been painted onto the portrait’s massive canvas.  The first was a light brown bear, his eyes the color of sap bleeding from a tree.  His smile was big—spreading from rounded ear to rounded ear.  His tuxedo was flawless, fitted around his hulking form with remarkable perfection.  A top hat sat above his brow like a dapper crown.  The figure next to him was nearly identical in shape and size but Wolf could not bring himself to look.

“Who is that?” Andrew asked as he came to Wolf’s side.

Words failed the canine.  He averted his gaze, glancing up at the left staircase and towards the room that was at the end of the long hall.  His single eye squinted at the door until he realized that there were two guards slumped over in front of the door.  Wolf pointed his blaster at them, preparing to fire.  His finger felt the curve of the trigger but Andrew put a hand on his shoulder.

“There’s something not right,” Andrew began.

“Yeah?” Wolf asked.

“They’re…” Andrew’s lip twisted into a frown. “They’re dead.”

Wolf lowered the blaster, white brows furrowed.  Slowly, he approached them.  The scent of blood emanated everywhere, mingling with the putrid scent of death.  It was not until midway up the stairs that he realized Andrew was right – both guards were dead, throats slashed open.  Their expressions were forever locked in horror, mouths twisted and gaping wide. The cleaves that had spilled their blood were jagged, unclean marks.  He knew at once that this was not the work of a blade.

The skin beneath Wolf’s eyepatch burned in memory.

“Uh… I think… they left a message…” Andrew began, pointing at the white wall to their left.  Wolf turned to read it.

Dried blood smeared on the wall, delicately drawn with style and grace—gory calligraphy that only said one word.

                                                             “FREEBIES”            

He felt the hot rush of vomit in the back of his throat but he suppressed it with all of his might.  His knuckles paled beneath his fur, his skin pressing hard into the handle of his blaster.  Chills crawled down his spine.  Part of him screamed to run but stubbornness dug his feet into the ground.  His violet iris scanned for a camera but was disappointed (and mildly relieved) to find none.  He chewed upon his thoughts with a scowl, glaring at the door ahead. 

Nothing was ever a coincidence.  This was where they needed to be.

“Wolf…?” Andrew asked.

“Let’s do this,” Wolf growled, pushing past both corpses and knocking them over.  He tried the door handle, finding it locked.  Rage boiled through him like a furnace and with a sneer, Wolf barreled into the door.  It shuddered on its hinges, refusing to give in. 

“Wolf…” Andrew began again but Wolf could not find it in him to listen to the simian.

He kicked the door, satisfied as it caved into his wrath.  The bleak lighting from the hall fell upon the desolate inside of a bedroom.  A canopy bed lay in the backdrop, its sheets infested with cobwebs and dust.  A heavy aroma of dust tickled the canine’s nose but he fought back a sneeze.  He stepped inside, letting the light frame his back and the dark embrace his path forward.  His vision adjusted, gaze scanning the littered floor.  Toys sat on the ground—dolls, ballerina figurines, a few building blocks.  But it was what was in the room’s center that drew his immediate attention.

Lenny.

Sitting unconscious, tied to a small chair, the crocodile sat with his head lulled to the side.  A bruise had formed over his right eye, swelling it nearly shut.  The closer Wolf drew to the reptile, the more he began to realize that the croc was missing a few scales—plucked expertly all over his exposed, overweight torso. 

“There he is!” Andrew exclaimed, one of his fingers pointing out the obvious just over Wolf’s left shoulder.

“I see that,” Wolf said, still glancing about the room.  Its silence was suspect; he could feel eyes on them from the shadows.  His blaster remained at the ready, ears swiveling to detect even the slightest puff of breath. 

Nothing?  That’s… not what I expected.

“We should grab him and head back to meet the others,” Andrew’s voice cut into his thoughts.  The canine glanced at him, ears pinned back as he watched the simian carelessly toddle towards the unconscious reptile.  A foot in front of Andrew, Wolf saw the tripwire—a crude, thin piece of thread strung low to the ground.  Its fabric shimmered in the dim light trickling in from the hallway.

“Andrew, wait!” Wolf exclaimed but it was a moment too late.

The thread snapped under the weight of the monkey’s ankle.  He stopped, looking back at Wolf in confusion.  A soft hissing emitted from somewhere nearby, whistling a shrill note.  Gas began to leak from pipes along the wall, its mist a thick white.  Behind him, the door slammed shut as if operated by an unseen hand.  The faint sound of the lock turning could be heard.  Wolf felt his heart sink into the pits of his stomach.

Poison gas?  How the hell did he get his hands on that?

“Now you’ve done it,” Wolf growled, one of his hands covering his snout.  “Grab ‘im, we gotta run!”

“Not my fault!” Andrew whined.

“Don’t breathe, just move!” Wolf barked back.

Andrew covered his nose and mouth with both hands, dancing back and forth on his lanky legs in a panicked flail.  He backed from the wall but the gas was coming from all sides.  Wolf ran towards the unconscious Lenny, swiping at his bonds with the blade attached to his gun.  As he hacked away at the thick rope, he drew in a deep inhale and gestured at the monkey to start trying to bang on the door.  Andrew made a run for the locked door, slamming his fists against it.  As he jostled the doorknob angrily, Wolf sliced the last few strands of rope from the unconscious Lenny.  The canine pulled the crocodile from his chair, praying the simian would get the door open before Lenny breathed in too much of the white gas.

Still dragging the old scrapper, Wolf made his way back towards the locked door.  Andrew’s pounding had slowed, the simian’s eyes drooping with exhaustion and effects from the gas.  Even though he covered his mouth, Wolf could see Andrew taking in shallow breaths to power his attacks against the door.  Five seconds ticked by and the heir dropped to a knee.  Wolf tried to catch him but the weight of both Lenny and Andrew was too much.  He nearly fell over, dropping Lenny to the ground as he tried his best to support Andrew.

“Wolf… It’s hard… It’s so hard to…” Andrew murmured at him, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

Wolf’s claws dug into Andrew’s shoulder, mentally trying to will the monkey awake.  Hand still covering his muzzle, the canine shook Andrew, feeling strain in his own lungs.  Andrew Oikonny did not awake.  His head lulled to the side, mouth agape.  The rise and fall of his breath was light, struggling against the poison filling their lungs.

Fuck!

He let Andrew slide out of his grasp, turning his attention to the door ahead of him.  Rage became strength and Wolf O’Donnell threw himself at the ancient wood and steel barring him from safety.  He fired at the doorknob, blasting away chunks of wood.  Splinters flew away, debris scattering about Wolf’s feet.  Somewhere in the series of rapidfire lasers, the screams of his lungs died away—fading as his mouth involuntarily opened.  He inhaled the poisoned gas.  It tasted like bitter fog, wrinkling his nose.

Just a little bit more!

He took a step but the moment his weight shifted, he fell to the ground.  The door sat in tatters on its hinges, swinging wide open for them.  Wolf’s hand grabbed for Andrew’s collar, trying to pull the monkey with him as he crawled towards the blissful freedom.  His vision shook, spinning as colors bled together like spilled watercolors.  Wolf tried to snarl but it came out as a choked gasp.  His blaster had fallen somewhere—he could not see where.  He could barely see anything anymore. 

A shadow fell upon him, its darkness devouring him and all he could see.  He tried to turn his head but his body would not obey.  The last thing he remembered before he fell unconscious was the unmistakable sound of feet stepping around his limp body—feet that propelled a hefty form, one that smelled of blood and cologne. 

Chapter Text

When Wolf clawed his way back to consciousness, the first thing his single eye took note of was the mellow red that pulsated from the fireplace, casting a fell light upon the room.  Its glow pulsated like a heartbeat.  Long shadows stretched across the hardwood floor, twisting into phantom-like silhouettes.  As his vision slowly drew into focus, he could tell that he was laying on his back, angled at a slant so that his face was pointed at where the grimy walls met the dark of the ceiling.  He made to grab his head but his wrists vainly struggled against something unbendable clamped around them.  He tried to move his legs and found his ankles in a similar situation. 

What the—

Memories came back like a deluge; flooding his mind with panic. The manor.  The heist.  The dead guards.  Lenny.  The tripwire.  Gas.  Andrew had passed out.  He had tried to get all three of them to safety but the door had been locked.  By the time he had blasted it open, it had been too late.  They had lost.  They had failed.  And now they would pay the price in blood.

The canine thrashed to no avail.  His head turned to look at what he was lying on.  It appeared to be a series of rustic, wooden boards, sallow and dry.  Despite his flailing, it held firm, not even giving a creak in reply.  Craning his head back, Wolf took note of the shackles that held his wrists.  Splattered about near his head were sanguine stains, decorating the wooden boards in chaotic blotches.  He did not have to ponder their meaning.

A torturer’s rack.

Inhale.  Exhale.  The unfortunate mercenary mentally scanned his body, trying to detect anything that felt abnormal or pained.  Nothing hurt—he was not sure if he should have been pleasantly surprised or filled with utter dread.

Gotta find a way outta this one.

A plaque hung just below eye level.  What hung on it sat on that dusky edge between the firelight and the shadows.  With the malicious pulse of the hearth, he could see glimpses of pale antlers, their roots attached to… something.  Something with tufts of brown… was that hair?  His eyes traced over the shape, feeling his unease grow.  A log fell in the fires, sending a spray of embers and spreading light across the mounted head of a deer.  Ice seized his joints, infecting his bloodstream and freezing the terrified canine in place.  His stomach twisted so tight that it had surely become an untangable knot.  Wordless fear balled his hands into fists, his own claws nicking at the insides of his palms.

I’m next if I don’t get outta here.

 “Ughh…” something moaned to his left.  Wolf’s head turned and he searched the faintly-lit room for its source.  Shadows began to dissipate, lightening themselves as his violet eye adjusted to their darkness.  Soon enough, he could make out the form of Andrew, strung onto a rack similarly.  His head drooped forward but his fingers twitched as if they were trying to remember how to move. 

“Andrew,” Wolf said, words falling to pieces on his dry tongue.  “Andrew…”

“Unnnghhh?” murmured the simian, head bobbing up and down.

“Andrew, wake up,” Wolf tried again, keeping his voice a few notches above a whisper.

The primate’s head lifted, his yellow eyes fluttering open.  A glob of drool stained the fur next to his mouth.  His arms tried to move from their shackles but to no avail.  He tried again, eyes opening wider.  Wolf could see his memories revive, igniting an expression of fear.  Head jerking in Wolf’s direction, the simian’s lip trembled. 

“W-where are we?” croaked the white-furred ape, blearily looking about the dark room.  “W-why… why can’t I…” He jostled against his constraints, expression igniting with terror.

As the simian fought the unbending will of the shackles, Wolf scanned what he could of the room.  A small end table sat with wilted roses in a jade vase.  The petals had fallen off in a decaying cascade onto the hardwood floor.  A set of tusks hung over the mantle, their curvature making Wolf think they had to have been from an unfortunate elephant.  They crossed at the middle, like a set of uncanny crossbones on a pirate’s flag.  There was a picture frame beneath it but he could not decipher its contents—only the gilded outside of its frame.  From there, he could see dust particles dancing in the air, drifting about near the waning hearth fire. 

A choked gasp tore his attention towards Andrew, who had spotted the gruesome plaque across from them.  Andrew’s mouth opened, his breaths deepening.  The horror was settling in.  His shaking doubled then tripled and he pressed himself into the sturdy boards he was strapped to. 

“Just look at me,” Wolf said to him, trying to keep his focus.  “Can you sense anything?”

Andrew’s eyes dodged to his leader for a moment before fixating upon the taxidermied head in front of them. 

“Andrew,” Wolf said, more sharply this time and the ape looked to him with a faint shimmer of tears glossing over his eyes.  Andrew’s mouth moved but no words came out. 

He’s panicking.  And I…

Wolf could feel his own body shivering.

… I don’t know what to tell him.

“Don’t look at it,” Wolf tried again and a single droplet broke free from Andrew’s right eye. 

“I… I can’t….” Andrew whispered.

“We need to focus if we’re gonna get outta here,” Wolf replied with the shake of his head. “Can you sense anything at all?  Try to move something…”

“It doesn’t… it doesn’t work like that…” Andrew said shakily.

“Well, it needs to,” Wolf remarked urgently.  “We don’t have much time.”

“Yelling at me… isn’t going… isn’t going to help…” the simian’s eyes danced between the head and his leader’s face.

“Focus,” Wolf growled.

“You’re m-making it… h-hard to…” Andrew whimpered.

If you had just paid attention, we wouldn’t be in this mess.  If you had just listened to me, we’d be out of here by now with the goods and with Lenny.  But you had to fuck it up. 

The vehement, spiteful words threatened to manifest from Wolf’s thoughts to his mouth, but he stifled them with another growl, ears pinned back.  Arguing pettily was useless at this point.  When he sighed, the shiny points of his fangs gleamed off the crimson hearth light. 

“L-look, I’m… I’m sorry I got us into this,” Andrew said after a few moments, his voice higher-pitched with fear.  “I’m… I’m gonna try to get us out…”

“Concentrate!” Wolf barked. “The sooner we’re outta here, the—”

A languid ballad softly playing in the unseen background caught his ear.  Its notes were a fluid mess, every fifth note slightly off-key.  It sang an eerie tune that roused the fur on his arms and legs.  A guttural growl boiled in the back of Wolf’s throat.  Dread ate a hole in his stomach, settling in and reaching out to his limbs with infectious fear.  His body felt as though it had been turned to stone, weighty and hard to move.   

The music halted abruptly on an ugly chord.

“Stopping now?  Ahhh, but it was getting so good!” a deep, rumbling voice chimed from the darkness.

Emotions flooded Wolf with tenacity enough to cease his shaking.  His breath felt stolen, his heart slowed with acceptance.  He closed his single functioning eye for a few long seconds, listening to the shuffling of feet in the shadows.  It sounded like a mad, giddy dance.  His hands became fists once more, his muscles aching in their struggle against the unyielding metal.  If this was fear, then it ignited his veins with emotion beyond anything he had felt in years. 

Archie clapped as he stepped into the dim light.  His massive form cast shadows over his two captives as he let himself be framed by the fiery glow from the fireplace.  As the grizzly bear walked towards them, the details of his face began to clear—he donned an unkempt, greying mustache and a few locks of wavy fringe falling into his face.  His right eye was adorned with a gaudy monocle and ruby-adorned chain.  A cane waved about in his hands—not a true support but something he surely waved around as a prop for his rugged formal wear.  His suit jacket was torn at the sleeves, exposing his muscled forearms.  The tail of his coat was missing a single flap and his undershirt lacked its top two buttons.  Two tired brown eyes fixated upon Wolf with a hungering expression.

He looks awful.  

One of his extended, sharpened claws toyed with the white-streaked scruff beneath his chin.  Its tip got stuck in a few tangles and as he drew nearer, Wolf was certain he could see a few crumbs stuck in the coarse hairs.  His scent crashed over Wolf like an ocean wave—smelling thick of fresh blood and a powerful cologne that could not quite banish the feeling of death that emanated from him.  The grizzly stopped before the canine, staring down his chained prisoner. 

“Wolfie,” Archie smiled at him.  His teeth had been filed into yellowed, unnatural daggers.  “It’s been ages.”  One of his massive paws reached out and patted Wolf’s cheek.  The canine wanted to recoil from the bear’s touch but he could not pull away fast enough.  Silently, Wolf endured the touch with gnashed teeth.

“By the stars, you don’t look so good these days,” Archie remarked to Wolf, brown-rimmed pupils flitting up and down the shackled mercenary. “Heh… That’s new.”  Delicately, one of his long claws flitted the makeshift eyepatch covering Wolf’s scar. 

“What do you want, Archie?” Wolf growled.

“Archie…” Andrew’s voice was barely a notch above a whisper.

“What do I want?” Archie asked, sounding quite offended.  One of his paws went to his partially un-buttoned chest dramatically.  His claws clinked against a golden chain draped about his girthy neck.  “You must be mistaken, Wolfie.  I wasn’t the one who swung by.  And without even a proper greeting, at that.”

“We came here for Lenny,” Wolf said brusquely.

“Was that before or after you shot my men up in that old rusty bar downtown?  Or when you threatened my guy at the hanger check-in?  Or…” Archie paused, smile flickering.  He let the last question fade, turning away from his shackled prisoners.

“Pod, where’s my wine?” the bear asked with the snap of his fingers.

At once, a silver tray appeared in the hands of a quaking lop-eared rabbit.  The rabbit nearly fell to his knees, offering up to Archie the tray containing a glass carafe of red wine and a singular gold-rimmed glass.  The wine sloshed within its container, but not a single drop spilled.

“Oh-ho!  Lucky boy.  You know I don’t like it if the carpet gets stained,” Archie smiled that dangerous smile of his, the toe of his boot grinding against a particularly foul looking black stain on the floor.  As he took his glass and began to pour from the carafe, the bear carried on, “You didn’t answer my question, Wolfie and you do know I hate repeating myself.  But since I’m feeling so charitable today and… well you’ve been gone for so long, I’ll let this slide just the once.”

He took a long swig of wine, blood red liquid staining the corners of his mouth.

 “Why are you here, Wolfie?”

“You know damn well why,” Wolf growled, fervently hoping the grizzly’s drink was, in fact, wine. “I’m here for Lenny.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean here as in the present here,” Archie waved his colossal paw dismissively. “I want to know why you came back?  Because surely… SURELY you knew… that I’d be…” Wolf did not see the grizzly move, but suddenly, the bear was nearly atop of him, sickle-like claws dancing over Wolf’s chest.  Archie’s maniacal eyes glared him down; he was a predator about to devour his prey, a guillotine about to fall. 

“That I’d be waiting for you, Wolfie.”

“N-now, I’m sure we c-can talk this out!” Andrew piped up from where he was chained.  Archie’s head snapped in his direction, expression filled with hungry delight.  But the simian kept talking, staring death in its ugly face.  “W-w-we’re a good mercenary team… w-w-we could… pay off w-whatever debt Wolf owes… I-I know h-h-he swindled you… s-stole some goods.  We… we could make up the cost!  J-just… let us try!”

Oh Andrew, you silly, silly fool.

Archie downed the rest of his sanguine alcohol.  His arm moved faster than lightning, rearing back and casting the glass goblet into the swirling flames of the hearth.  Wolf could hear the poor lop-eared bunny squeak in fear somewhere in the darkness.  Shards glistened near the fireplace, reflecting the red-hued light.  They shone like false rubies.

“You think I care about a few ounces of moonstone?” Archie asked Andrew with raised brows. 

It goes beyond the goods.

Archie chuckled coldly. “Heh… I could snap my fingers and have some fucker sculpt a statue of me in moonstone.”

It goes beyond even the money.

“Nahhh, drugs come and go like fads, anyways.  But there’s a type of money that’s always gonna be popular,” the bear said, drawing closer to the ape.  He reached out, patting Andrew’s cheek.

“Please don’t…”Andrew began quietly.

“Pretty face,” Archie commented.  His claws sank into Andrew’s fur, digging up tiny rivets into his flesh.  When he pulled his paw away, it dripped with small droplets of blood. 

“Archie!” Wolf snarled.  He raged against his bindings, feeling the metal bite through his fur and into his skin.  The grizzly howled with laughter, shaking his paw to free himself of Andrew’s blood. 

He’s just toying with us.  Gloating.  And why wouldn’t he?  He’s won.

“Friend of yours? Maybe something more?” Archie asked, quirking a brow at the canine. “How long before you discard this one?”

“Get away from him.  He’s got nothin’ to do with this,” Wolf growled.

“Awww, how noble of you, trying to direct my wrath away from him.  You must really like him,” Archie replied with a dramatic, enamored sigh.  Nevertheless, he obliged Wolf’s request and walked over towards the canine, leaning against the rack.  Childishly, he asked, “And what a good little pet he is, not trying to sell you out to save his own skin.  What lies did you tell him, Wolfie?  About the big bad bear?  About how I was a meanie-face to you and exiled you from Corona?”

I told him what I needed to tell him.

“Oh, come on, tell me!  Tell me about how you lied to him!  I want to hear it!” Archie exclaimed giddily.

Andrew, still sucking in sharp breaths from his new facial wound, managed, “Wolf… what’s he talking about?”

“Don’t listen to him.  He’s a rabid fuck without a shred of sanity left,” Wolf remarked, side-eyeing the grizzly.

“That may be,” Archie conceded, straightening his posture.  He stretched, resting his right arm on the top of the rack Wolf was shackled to.  His left draped just over Andrew’s head.  Glancing between his two prisoners, the bear continued with a menacing grin. “And who do we have to blame for that, I wonder?” 

Wolf felt his eyes crawl over him.

“If you don’t want the drugs or the money, then what… what do you really want?!” Andrew finally managed to raise his voice.  Tiny trails of red stained his neck. 

“Oh I’m so glad you asked.  Really, I am,” Archie said, gushing with joy as he leaned over the simian. “But Wolf already knows the answer.  Hmm.  Don’t you, Wolfie?” One of his elbows thudded into Wolf’s ribs. “Say it.  Say it, Wolfie!” A second, harder elbow crashed into Wolf’s ribs and he coughed.

Coming to Eladard was a death sentence.  I knew it from the start.  But I believed that maybe… maybe someone would have shot him.  In an alleyway.  In a bar.  In his sleep.  Somehow.  I believed I could beat the odds no matter where I went.  I was the man that walked out of Chasma Penitentiary.  I could do anything… right?

“Blood,” Wolf spat reluctantly.  “My blood.”

“Why…?” Andrew asked quietly, yellow eyes searching through Archie’s layers of madness. 

“Why?  I’ll tell you why,” Archie replied with a smile. “Because Wolf O’Donnell is a thief, a cheat, and most importantly… he’s a goddamn murderer.”

“We’re all murderers, Archie!” Wolf snapped back. “Don’t try to act so high an’ mighty.”

“But what you did… was different!” Archie snarled, the whites of his sclera nearly swallowing his pupils and irises.  A growl frosted his warm, reeking breath.

“Wolf… what did you do?” Andrew asked, looking to his leader. 

“Andrew—” Wolf began.

“Enough lies from you!” Archie roared, his voice shaking the room.  “You want to know what he did?  I’ll tell you… I’ll tell you how little ol’ Wolfie O’Donnell made the worse decision of his life… And how he’s gonna pay for it.” Despite his sneer, the corner of his mouth curled upward into a crazed smile. 

He wandered towards an armchair by the fire, seizing the top of it to drag it forward.  Once it was positioned to his liking, the hulking bear plopped down into it, resting back with his paws on his stomach.  Archie gave a little shimmy, snuggling in.

“Ahhh that’s better, can’t tell a good ghost story without a fire and a comfy chair… Hmm… Let’s see here.  Ohhhhh, it had to have been over ten years ago now.  We had a group of Cornerian aristocrats in charge here in Corona.  But they were a bunch of fucks that didn’t care so much about anything other than how fat their wallets were.  So the streets crawled with the starving vermin… and other people lookin’ to make some extra cash.  My clan’s always ruled these streets—since the planet was colonized, that is.  It was no surprise that when my pops bit it, my brother and I were the ones to sit on his trash heap of a throne.”

“Do you really gotta do this?” Wolf growled.

“You had a brother?” Andrew asked.

“Yes.  I had a brother.  His name was Klaus.  Klaus Ursus.  He and I were twins.  Fraternal, sadly.  He was unfortunately not blessed with my good looks and mild manner,” the bear’s crazed smile widened. “But that didn’t matter.  Klaus and I did everything together from the moment we were pushed into this miserable fucking world.  We played together.  Fought together.  Ruled together.  I remember it so clearly—we were sitting in our bar, having a few drinks and laughing at this bitch serving us.  And good ol’ Wolfie walks in, sits his ass next to me, and says, ‘Sign me up for your gang, Ursus, I need extra cash.  Scrappin’ ain’t cutting it no more’.  I’d never seen someone so damn cheeky and brave.  I had to say yes, of course, because I was intrigued.  No one walks up to a bear and demands things, not in this city.  But here this pompous prick was and I was too eager to see what he’d do if we taught him how to fire a blaster and rip throats out.”

“A couple of years in, little ol’ Wolfie had gone from fresh meat to our second-in-command.  And Klaus had a thing for him, I think.  And Wolfie knew it... so he’d feed my brother whatever he wanted.  Sweet little compliments.  Taking our enemies alive so Klaus could play with them later.  Hell, I think Wolfie even scrubbed Klaus’s back one time to get a raise.  And Klaus was suckered in.  Didn’t even notice the shipments going missing.  Not ‘til I pointed it out how our sales had taken a hit.  Suddenly customers weren’t talking to us.  So I did some investigating.  Turns out we taught Wolfie how to cover his tracks, only not that good because I sniffed the bastard out.  Can you imagine poor Klaus when he found out his bestie was scammin’ us for extra coin?” The grizzly’s eyes lit up suddenly. “Oooh!  I think it’s time for some story interaction.  Monkey—tell me what you think Wolf was gonna use the coin on.  If you get it right, I’ll let you keep your left ear.  What do you say?”

“W-what?!” Andrew gasped.

“Is that your final answer?” Archie asked.

“N-no!” Andrew said quickly.

Archie rose to his feet instantly.  Two steps and he was looming in front of a horrified Andrew.  With a roar, he reached back with a hand, then punched the board next to Andrew’s head.  Archie grabbed the wood, digging his claws into it and ripping deep trenches into the board near Andrew’s bleeding cheek.  The simian gave a cry of surprise, flinching.

“Just kidding, I wanted to make sure you were awake!” Archie laughed then fell back into his chair ungracefully.  “Wolf wanted to buy passage to Corneria City to start a new life.  He was gonna use the money to get tickets for himself and his two siblings, ditch us, then go find an apartment down in the city.  Isn’t that… so utterly noble?” 

It was a fool’s dream.  But everyone wanted to live in Corneria City.  It was the safest place—abundant with jobs and opportunity.  They said a poor man could find his destiny in the city.  And stars fucking know I was poor and craving any sort of meaning that didn’t involve senseless killing or scrapping.

“But stealing is stealing, and poor Klaus was heartbroken.  So he did what any sensible man would do.  Wolfie’s sister was on her way back from working at the bar when Klaus found her.  He tied her down to the road and found one of those old early colonization cars.  You know, back before hover tech.”

It was my fault, Tala. You didn’t deserve what he did to you.

“So Klaus hopped in.  Flicked the car in reverse.  Right over her legs, you know.  Crunch, crunch!  Then he flicked it in drive.  Crunch, crunch!  Then he flicked it in reverse… then into drive… then in reverse… then into drive… Until they were pulverized into the asphalt. When those Cornerian dogs finally found the source of all the screaming, Klaus ran for it.  I hear the meds were able to save her.  Magical Cornerian tech and all that—they’d always do that for dogs, y’know, but fuck anyone else screaming for help in those dark streets.”

    Rage re-ignited in Wolf’s veins.  Beneath his eyepatch, his flesh prickled.  Teeth gnashed, Wolf stared ahead of him.  Somehow, a lump had gotten stuck in his throat.  Somehow, he felt the burning sensation of a tear forming in his right eye.  Somehow, his claws could remember the sensation of tearing into skin and fur.  His pointer finger remembered how it had felt to pull the trigger.

“Maybe in hindsight I get why Wolfie went and tracked my dear brother down that night,” Archie said thoughtfully with a scratch to his chin. “Maybe I can kind of see why he left him a bloody mess in that dark alleyway.”  His claws tightened their grip around his chair’s armrest. “But I don’t forgive it.”

You don’t have to.  Klaus Ursus was a monster.  I regret nothing and I won’t spend my last moments begging for forgiveness.  It won’t bring Klaus back and it won’t bring Tala’s legs back either.

“So Monkey, do you understand now?  Do you understand how badly your glorious leader has fucked up?  Do you understand why I have to do this now?” Archie asked Andrew as he rose from his armchair and wandered over to the white-furred ape.  His gait was an unbalanced teeter. 

“I…” Andrew fumbled.  Wolf could feel Andrew’s eyes upon him but he could not bring himself to look over at him.

“Or maybe you need him to confess it.  Ooh!  I like that, that’s a better idea. All right, Wolfie, look over here.  Tell Mr. Monkey why you both are gonna die here.  Hm?  Go on!  Go on, tell him!” Archie said lightly/

Wolf set his jaw, keeping his gaze forward.

It was three in the morning.  I found him walking back from the bar.  He had been drinking.  But that didn’t matter—he could drink all the liquor in the city and not get drunk.  He reeked of whiskey when I came up behind him.  I called his name then I shot him in the leg when he turned around.  He screamed and grabbed his leg, but the shot hadn’t been enough to slow his charge down.  My hands were shaking.  Was it rage?  Or had it been fear?  Not sure.  Don’t care to think too hard on it. 

“Come on, Wolfie, don’t be so lame.”

My hands were still shaking it when I shot him again.  He knocked the blaster out of my hands and pulled a knife.  I got it from him.  I don’t know how it ended up in his stomach. 

“Wolfieeeee, you know I don’t like waiting…”

I can still hear what his screaming sounded like.

“Tell Mr. Monkey that you slaughtered my brother and left him to bleed out in the cold, dark Coronan streets.”

I drew a line from his belly button to his chest.  His claws found my eye when he went down.  I grabbed my blaster from the wet concrete.  I fired until I heard sirens… and then I ran.

The canine turned his head to look dead into Andrew’s eyes.  Fear had embedded Archie’s paw dangled close to the simian’s face, like a snake about to strike its victim.  Wolf cleared his throat, ears pinned back.  His confession came out, hollow and devoid of emotion.

“I killed him.  And I’d do it again.”

I’d do it as many times as it took.  And I would have enjoyed it as much as I had the first time.

 “Excellent!” Archie exclaimed joyfully. “I’m glad we’re all in agreement.”  He backed a step from the shackled Andrew.

 “Wolf…” Andrew’s voice was barely audible.  The start of a sob was etched into the lines of the young monkey’s face, but it was clear he was trying to hold back.  Wolf wanted to tell him that Archie was wrong—that they were not going to die.  But it felt wrong; it felt like a lie.  He swallowed the pretty falsehoods back down his throat, setting his jaw and looking to his former boss.

“Ha!” Archie laughed as he drew close to Wolf. “And see here, Monkey, he admits to it.  The whole thing.  And now, I can finish what my dearly departed brother started.  An eye for an eye…” One of his paws flicked the cloth of Wolf’s eyepatch.  “A life for a life.” 

The grizzly leaned in closer, whispering.

“I hope it hurt when my brother dug out your eye, O’Donnell.”

I’m sure it didn’t hurt as bad as when I gutted his fat ass.

The seething words had formed on Wolf’s lips but they vanished as the door swung open, letting in a flood of light from the hallway.  It was bright, banishing the shadows that reigned the cozy living room.  Archie groaned, flashing an annoyed look at the stocky-looking silhouette in the doorway.  He backed away from his quarry, hands on his wide hips. 

“Zula,” the bear scowled. “Why are you interrupting my monologue?”

“Sorry, Baron,” came a reply from a hoarse, but vaguely feminine voice.  A confident-looking spotted hyena walked in, decked out in protective torso armor except for her white-tattooed arms.  She had dyed the fringe that draped from atop her head a vivid turquoise with ebony stripes interwoven within it.  A hefty blaster hung at her left side.  She paused to spare the two prisoners a simple gander then turned her attention back to the grizzly.

“Got another message from that lion guy.  Figured you’d wanna take a look ASAP,” the hyena said to Archie.

“Oh fuck him, I don’t care,” Archie waved his hand as if to “shoo” the notion away. “I’m in the middle of something important.”

“Of… course, sir,” Zula replied with a nod.

“Well, while you’re here, make yourself useful,” Archie said with the snap of his fingers. “Ready the Grounds.”

Zula paused, arching her brows in curiosity.  A small smile spread across her dark maw. “Are we going Hunting, sir?”

Fuck…

“Yes.  And this will be one we won’t forget any time soon, I think,” Archie looked at his two captives with an ear-to-ear grin. “Fetch a nurse while you’re at it.  My claws pricked the ape a few times and I want him ready for the morning.  Wounded prey isn’t as fun.”

“Yes sir,” Zula said with a small salute.  She tossed Andrew and Wolf a sneer before departing. 

“Hmm, well, better go prepare my shotgun.  It hasn’t seen action in awhile and you know it’s more fun to use that than a blaster.  Stay sharp, Wolfie, I’ll need you to be at your best so I can kill you the proper way,” Archie smiled, then reached out to toy with the canine’s eyepatch. “Too bad you’re not whole.  I’d have loved to fight you before my brother so rudely gimped you.”

Seething rage sparked in Wolf’s chest, but he tried his best to restrain himself.  Snout wrinkled with the hint of a growl, he watched the massive grizzly toddle towards the open door.  Archie gave a pause, and then flicked on the living room light.  Wolf shut his eye immediately, blinded momentarily by the overhead lights.

“I’ll give you something to contemplate while I get ready!” Archie’s voice sang out before the door slammed shut.

“W-Wolf…” Andrew squeaked next to him.

Wolf opened his eye, blinking through the pain of it adjusting to the brightness.  A single agonized tear found its way down his cheek, dropping onto the board next to his face.  Abstract shapes formed into things that made a little more sense… and then a lot more sense… and then horrifying amounts of sense.

“Fuck…”

The wall was lined with trophies.  Like the elephant tusks above the mantle, the rest of his collection made Wolf’s stomach turn.  Collections of teeth were framed in glass—displaying various sizes of canine fangs. Antlers belonging to a moose hung on the chandelier. A skinned snake’s skin was stretched, pinned to display its diamondback pattern. Polished, white skulls had been expertly hung, scattered amid the taxidermied heads of hedgehogs, leopards, dogs, and badgers. Their lifeless eyes stared ahead, faces fixated in a false, deathly peace. 

I should have never come back.

“Wolf…” Andrew repeated.  “Wolf… what’re we gonna do?”

Pray.  Cry.  Beg.  Fight.  Die.  A thousand options.  One destination.

“I don’t know,” answered Wolf quietly.

“Wolf, what did they mean by ‘Hunting’?” Andrew asked.

“It means that there is going to be a ‘Hunt’,” Wolf replied, feeling his words ebb away with growing numbness and realization.  “And before you ask, Andrew… No.  We’re not going to be the Hunters.”

“W-what are we gonna be then?” Andrew’s voice raised an octave.

Wolf looked to him tiredly.

“You already know the answer to that.”

Chapter Text

Eventually, the lights went out and the two were encased in a thick layer of darkness, kept only at bay by the dying embers in the nearby hearth.  Something about the dark comforted Wolf.  It blotted out the gruesome sight of Archie’s previous victims but Wolf’s mind cruelly reminded him of their uncanny faces when he closed his eye.  Nausea rocked his stomach like an upset sea.  It manifested into a low growl, the tips of his fangs showing for a brief moment.

“Wolf…” Andrew said in a small voice. “How are we gonna get out of this one?”

Good question, kid.  I don’t know.

His throat burned.  His fingers twitched, lightly patting his knuckles against the wood of the rack he had been strapped to.  Inside, his chest broiled with a tidal wave of emotions.  They surged against his chest.  Energy burned in his veins but his bindings restrained him.  His tongue craved the taste of tobacco, his lungs sought the warmth of a cigarette’s breath.

“For now,” Wolf growled into the dark. “We wait.” 

Andrew’s subsequent huff made him acutely aware that the simian was not a fan of his reply but Wolf had no sympathy to offer him.  Though Wolf knew coming to Archie’s manor had been a bad idea, he could not deny the silent swell of rage in his chest at the young Venomian heir for foolishly tripping the trap that had led them into this predicament. 

Pigma.  Leon.  I wonder if they made it out alive.

That was a hopeful thought he put no stakes in.  The world was so used to disappointing him that he knew it would continue upon its easy, merry trend.  His stomach twisted into a knot at the thought of Leon lying dead in the decrepit manor somewhere—another victim to Wolf’s carelessness.  Ragged breath fell from his agape jaws involuntarily at the gruesome image his mind had created.  If the lizard was lucky, he would have died before Archie could get his claws on him.

Pigma… Wolf tried to feel bad about possibly getting the swine killed but then he remembered the hog had betrayed his old wingmates.  Perhaps it had only been a matter of time with that one.

The door swung open so loudly that Wolf jolted.  His restraints nipped into his wrists but his focus was solely upon the newest arrival.  She was a hunched over creature, old as dirt with a jagged snout and salty white streaks throughout her dark, earthy brown fur.  If he had to guess what she was, he would have said an undead mole of some sort.  In her massive, clawed hands, she carried a toolkit.  The two grunts at her either sides said nothing—staring ahead with dutiful diligence.  Wolf wanted to throw up looking at them.

Some people traded their brains for their lives, thought the canine in disgust.

The ancient nurse opened up her toolkit, procuring a few bandages and some ointment from within it.  She began to doctor up Andrew’s slash masks, teetering on her feet with each unsteady breath.  Wolf was mildly concerned the old crone would croak on the spot but soon enough, the mole finished her work on the simian then wobbled her way over towards Wolf.

“Ehehe,” her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard.  Wolf cringed.  Her milky eyes bore holes into him. “I remember you.”

His stormy brows lifted as she looked him over. 

“Always by the old master’s side like his lil’ guard pup,” the mole creaked at him with her uncanny voice. “Ehehehehe, look at you now.  You look like you’ve seen some things.  Or maybe only half of some things.” Mockingly, she covered one eye with one of her large hands.

Nerves alight, Wolf glared down at the nurse, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“I don’t remember you.  And from the looks of it, I’m pretty glad I don’t.”

“Cheeky!” the nurse cackled, one of her claws jabbing into his injured shoulder.  Despite Leon’s care, the canine still felt the tip of her claw prick him.  He growled, ears peeling back as the pain crackled like lightning through his chest and into his stomach.

“Wolf, don’t antagonize her,” Andrew whined.

“Quiet, kid,” Wolf snapped back. “I’m fine.  You can back off.  Go find another way to spend your last few moments, lady.”

The nurse’s laughter followed her out the door, leaving Andrew and Wolf alone again in the trophy room.  Though he knew Andrew had a myriad of words and questions on the tip of his tongue, the young heir did not voice them.  Instead, Wolf heard Andrew sigh heavily.  A cautioned look over at the scrawny youth and Wolf noticed he was closing his eyes.  Sleep seemed impossible but he knew they had to conserve their energy. 

The border between night and day blurred with the gradual passing of time.  It felt like an eternity before Zula returned with some guards, who roughly unshackled them from the racks.  She clamped handcuffs around their wrists tightly, looping a chain between the sets so they were loosely bound together.  When that was done, the hyena and her two goons escorted them out the door. 

Wolf staggered under the blinding array of overhead lights.  Steady hands kept him from falling over, keeping him on track as the haughty hyena led her master’s quarry down the decorated, dusty hallway.  The thugs and cronies they passed by shot them curious glances.  Wolf tried to see if he recognized any faces but they all seemed newer and younger.  It sent a chill down his spine and he wondered what had happened to all of the old crew after he had left.  He tried to blot out the thought of the taxidermied faces in the trophy room.  He did not want to know if he recognized any of them.

Andrew was in no better shape than he was, limping along pathetically with a trembling lower lip.  The scratches on his cheek were still pronounced and dark crimson but they seemed to be gradually scabbing over.  His amber eyes met Wolf’s, brimming with fear.  If they had been a few shades darker, they would have mirrored the hue of his uncle’s eyes.  Wolf had never noticed that before now.

“Quit dawdlin’, O’Donnell,” Zula snapped at him.  The guards holding his arms pushed him forward and he stumbled down the corridor, towards the stairs leading down to the lower floor.  As he began down, he took note of the hyena’s gait—particularly of her strange, uneven steps.  She leaned on her right heavier than her left.  The pattern of her steps was off kilter and odd.  His violet eye trailed to her retreating back.

Interesting… 

“So you’re the new me,” Wolf remarked to the hyena coldly.

“I’m nothin’ like you,” Zula snapped back. “Now can it.”

“What happened to your leg?” Wolf asked her haughtily.

Her eyes fell upon him like a reaper’s scythe, searing with silent wrath.  He saw her peel back a fist.  Small scabs dotted her knuckles.  Briefly before the fist struck his jaw, Wolf wondered what had happened to her.  Her strike was blinding and he reeled for a moment before gathering his bearings again.

“You’re lucky the Baron wants you alive,” Zula sneered, her hot breath tickling his ears. “Or I’d see how nice ya look with a laser between your eyes.”

“Lucky me,” Wolf spat.  The potent taste of blood danced over his tongue.  He licked over the new split in his lip.  Its sting was enough to warrant a small wince.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Wolf tossed a look to the left, scanning down one of the large corridors. The body of a crooked-beaked vulture lay sprawled in the hall, lined up with a dozen others who had not made it through the break in.  One of Archie’s men was counting them, scribbling down something on a notepad as if taking roll. 

A burly-chested boar opened the door for them, letting infernal bright light pour in from the outdoors.  Wolf winced, looking away from the sun as the guards guided him outside.  The whir of engines caught his ear.  By the time his eye adjusted, they were already halfway across the front lawn and walking towards a gyrocopter.  It looked like a pirated Cornerian model, its green painted over with black stripes.  An insignia of claw marks had been put onto its hull.  Wolf wondered how much Archie had spent on it… or if he had just intimidated the local Cornerian officers into “permanently lending it” to him.

The gyrocopter sat cramped in the front lawn, delicately placed on a marble platform that had once contained a fountain.  The water had been drained and the decorative statue in its center destroyed, leaving behind an uncanny empty pool with a flat bottom.  Small stone fish lined its sides, their mouths open but no water spilling forth. 

As they approached, its whir swelled into a constant roar that blotted out all other sounds.  Its humming blades created gusts of wind that picked up the dry grass and leaves that had once lay strewn across the manor’s lawn.  The wind blew through Wolf’s fur, whipping through his long, pale grey fringe.  His makeshift eyepatch flapped awkwardly against his cheek but he tried to ignore it. 

“Where are they taking us?” Andrew’s voice was scarcely audible over the whirling blades.

“Shut up,” Zula snapped at him.

Wolf cast a glance back towards Andrew but it was what lay behind his wingmate that caught his attention.  A chunk of the manor was missing—part of one of the upper floors was exposed.  Wolf could see into one of the rooms and his brows rose.  His eyes counted the windows up—one, two, then three, where the hole was.  The corner of the building had been taken off at the west and north side on that floor. 

I don’t remember that being like that yesterday.

“Eyes up front, O’Donnell,” Zula snapped.

What, does she not want me to look at that?

He paused for thought, gaze moving towards the hyena’s asymmetrical gait. 

… Interesting.

The side of the hull opened up and one of the guards stepped in first.  He reached back and dragged Wolf up and into the gyrocopter with him.  Wolf stumbled but maintained his footing, glancing back at Andrew as the brute unceremoniously dragged the simian into the gyrocopter as well. 

“Sit,” barked Zula as she stepped in after them, shutting the door.  Without warning, one of the guards who had escorted them shoved both Wolf and Andrew into poorly cushioned chairs.  The seatbelts were broken.  Wolf’s ears peeled back in disdain as he glared up at the guards.  They stared back expressionlessly.

They just act based on orders.  What a sad fucking life.

Zula looked to the pilot, a Cornerian dog with speckled fur and dead eyes.  “Take us to the Grounds.  The Baron should already be there.”

“Aye, aye,” the pilot replied. 

Wolf felt the gyrocopter lift, his stomach twisting into a knot.  Out of a tiny window to his left, he could see Eladard’s parched and pleading ground falling further and further away as the vehicle took to the blue skies.  His violet eye swept towards the three guards piled into the gyrocopter’s passenger cabin.  The first was a stocky bulldog, sleeves tattooed on both arms and a twin-barreled blaster slung in a loop on his belt.  The second was a horned lizard with bloodshot eyes and a tick of scales near his left cheek that made Wolf think he was currently deprived of something probably illicit.  Zula stood near the narrowed two-foot corridor to the pilot’s cockpit, holding onto a strap dangling from the ceiling.  She glared at Wolf in particular, scrutinizing him with such malice that it cracked a smile on the canine’s muzzle.

“I’d ask what you’re lookin’ at, but I feel like all you’re gonna tell me to do is shut up,” Wolf said to the hyena, surprised at his own cheekiness even in the face of certain death.  Anxiety flowed in his veins alongside his blood.  He breathed in, cherishing the terrifying thrill.  If this was the end, he was going to make this as painful for them as possible.

“I wasn’t part of the gang when you shot up the Baron’s brother,” Zula said. Wolf did not hide his surprise at the captain’s answer.  Her dark snout wrinkled at him in disgust. “But I hear you left him a bloody mess.  Just wonderin’ how someone as pathetic as you could’ve done it.”

“Untie me,” Wolf replied with a smirk. “And I’ll demonstrate it for ya.”

“You’ll get your chance soon enough,” Zula sneered back.  “You know the Grounds, doncha, O’Donnell?  I hear Archie’s been doing this little game for quite awhile now.”

“He’s always been a fucko,” Wolf agreed in an acerbic, reflective tone.

“I also heard you used to help ‘em with this,” Zula added with a fanged grin.

His cruel mind played the audio of memories he had tried to forget.  Memories of prisoners crying.  Memories of them begging for their lives. They would barter the most shocking things—the lives of others, their own freedom, anything.  Anything to be spared Archie’s sadistic games.  Wolf could feel that desperation climbing in him but his pride clamped his fears back down.  One of his ears flitted to the side, chewing on his next sentence begrudgingly.

“A few times,” Wolf shot back after a moment.  He felt Andrew’s gaze on him—heavy, judging, and resentful.  Wolf shrugged it off—he had to, for his own sanity.  There were things he had done to survive.  Things he was not proud of.  But it had gotten him this far.

“You make me almost think karma exists,” Zula taunted.

Wolf had no response for that.  He fell into ruminating silence, looking out the small window at the wasteland below them.  Full cities lay in shambles, their skeletal structures remaining as the elements washed everything else away.  Blackened mountains lingered beneath them, jutting up like the spikes in an iron maiden.  Beyond their infernal sight lay the Grounds—marked by a set of metal walls rising out of the desolate plains.  The walls were designed to keep prying eyes out and pleading prisoners in.  They were nestled between four weathered ridges at the base of the ebony mountain range. A set of large pillars at each cardinal direction had been raised, a large barrier powered between them. 

In the past, when they had taken unlucky sods out here to be killed, they had taken old mountainous roads in a small caravan of trucks.  The walls had been more like fences, subtle enough to be mistaken from the air as regular chainlink.  But now, the walls rose thirty feet in the air, made with metal and reckless abandon.  Wolf bristled inwardly.  Archie did not even care about drawing attention—who was going to stop him?  Eladard was a ghost planet and the local Cornerian guards were in his pocket.  A whistleblower would have been lucky to not end up as the next victim to the bloody Grounds.

“He’s really amped up the place,” Wolf said sourly but Zula gave no reply. 

Their descent was gradual—painfully so, and Wolf felt his anxiety chew at his eroding nerves.  His claws dug into the armrests of the chair he had been shoved into.  His violet gaze watched the Grounds draw nearer and nearer with dread.  The gyrocopter aimed for a rectangular building on the south end, its walls made of blue-gray metal that glistened in the sunlight.  As they drew closer, Wolf could see a crudely sketched out landing pad on the building’s roof.  When they did eventually touch down upon the roof, the gyrocopter gave a small, uncertain rock.  Zula opened the door and hopped out in a fluid motion, sliding some sunglasses onto her snout.  The engine clicked off and the whirring blades on each wing slowed to a halt.

“Let’s roll,” she snapped to her two cronies.  Before Wolf could protest, the bulldog had seized him by the collar and was hoisting him up from his chair.

The light blinded him when he exited the gyrocopter.  He lifted a chained hand to cover his eyes but the guard behind him shoved him towards the steps.  Wolf stumbled, regaining his footing before hopping awkwardly out of the passenger’s cabin.  He shot the bulldog a venomous glare. 

Standing atop the roof, he could see for miles around them.  Abandoned factories and buildings hung about the dry, desolate flats like skeletons from a bygone era.  He looked to the black-top mountains, towards where Corona dwelled.  Their heights obscured the capital.  Something about that notion made him feel even sicker to his stomach—they were all alone in the wilderness with these barbarians. 

A small elevator sat atop the roof, guarded by two thugs donned from head-to-toe in combat armor.  Zula paid them no mind as she led the way into the elevator.  The doors shut out the light and Wolf felt his breath escape in a gradual, shivering sigh.  By the time they opened again, they had gone down four stories, arriving on the ground level—a long, curved hallway with stalls jutting off of its inner side.  Steel bars served as a blockade for each stall, making them look akin to jail cells.  The far wall, opposite of the stall door, was another door—one leading to the outside.  Wolf knew; he had been here before, what felt like a lifetime ago.  But this time, he would be the one shoved into the stall.  He would be the one who’s blood soaked the Grounds.

The first few cages they passed were empty but by the time they reached the fourth, Wolf took somber note of the caged people within.  They were different every time – woeful dogs, likely soldiers that tried to go AWOL.  Some of them were evident homeless folk that had been pulled off the side of the street.  Others looked like they had been there for some time, their fur matted and their teeth bared in savage snarls as Zula paraded them by. 

“Holy fuck,” Wolf heard Andrew whisper, the heir’s fear quivering in each breath.

“This’ll be yours,” Zula announced, stopping by one of the pens.

She flung the door open and gestured towards the guards.  Wolf felt the bulldog shove him again—this time much rougher.  He staggered into the stall, narrowly dodging Andrew, who came in right after.  The door shut with the clanging of metal against metal.  Zula’s dark eyes peered at them between the bars, her bloodlust evident in her cruel smile.

“Go time soon.  Savor your last few moments o’ peace.”

And with that, the simian and canine were left to ponder their situation in unsettling quiet.  Wolf sat down on the dirty floor, careful to not disturb any of the tufts of fur that had been left over from the last guest who had seen those miserable walls.  His fingers ran over the hard, cold metal that bound his hands in thought, wishing he could just will his shackles to open. 

“You think of anything yet?” Andrew asked nervously.

They’ll open the door on the end when it’s time.  And we’ll be fools to sit here.  I don’t know how many they’ve got locked here but for something like this, they’ll probably release all of us. 

“Still workin’ on it,” Wolf admitted darkly.

“Well, we’re running out of time!” Andrew snapped. “Ugh, this is so miserable!  I don’t even get why he dragged us all the way out here.  I don’t get why we’re in here—who were those people in the other cells?  What are they here for?”

“I told you,” Wolf remarked. “Archie plans to hunt us down.  It’s a… a game he likes to play.  Usually he sits in some sort of hovercraft where no one can touch him and pops off kill shots.”

“That’s not even fair!” Andrew exclaimed.

“It’s not about fair, it’s about watching people bleed,” Wolf retorted. “Usually he doesn’t go out right away—he likes to watch for a bit.  Usually they announce a target goal—they try to bribe the prisoners for a chance at freedom so they can motivate the bloodlust.  Sometimes it’s like… ‘Whoever can make it to the other side of the arena will get out free”.  Somethin’ to make there be a competition.”

“So if that’s the case,” Andrew began. “Then we’ll just… we’ll just compete with everyone else and we’ll win.”

“It’s not that easy,” Wolf replied with the shake of his head. “It’s never that easy, Andrew.”

“What do you—” the simian said with the angered stamp of a foot.

An alarm cut through the melancholy quiet of the holding cells.  Its cry was loud, a crescendo then a decrescendo—a scream of mourning and fear.  Wolf’s ears lifted, his eyes swinging from Andrew to the door opposite of where they had been shoved in. 

Oh no.

“What’s that sound?” Andrew asked.

They ain’t giving us time to catch our breath.  That’s for sure.

“Get ready,” Wolf warned him.

A fraction of a second passed and the door at the far wall of their cage opened.  Once again, they were blinded by the light but that did not stop Wolf.  With a fearful hand, he grabbed onto Andrew and pulled him a few steps, hoping he would follow him outside. Andrew’s chains clattered behind him, confirmation that the simian was at least toddling after him.

When his eyes adjusted to the brilliant shine of Lylat, he immediately took surveillance of his surroundings. The Grounds were a different world than the outside—the arid, crumbling wasteland dirt was replaced by dry grass that crunched softly underfoot.  Trees sat in thickets in the distance, providing some shade.  The closest one was at least fifty yards away.  Beyond that, he could see denser woods on the horizon.  If they were lucky, they could make it to the woods without too much issue—but knowing Archie, he had probably established traps in the places that were likely the best for hiding.  It was his sick way of keeping people “in the game”.

Before he could think on that further, he caught movement to his right.  A few of the other doors had opened and dazed prisoners stumbled forth into the light—perplexed by how bright the sun shone.

“Come one, come all, and WELCOME TO THE GROUNDS!” Archie’s voice boomed over the intercom. “Today’s game is brought to you by Fichina Flakes!  They’re GREAT—or so I hear.”

Wolf scanned the dumbfounded faces.  There were at least fifteen of them—that he could see, at least.  Andrew sidled up next to him, glancing skyward at where the bear’s voice was emanating from.

“One lucky winner is gonna be able to walk outta here scott free!  All they gotta do is…” Archie continued with a laugh threatening to overpower him.  Wolf could feel his heart racing, somehow knowing the words before they rang out over the bloody Grounds.

“… Kill Wolf O’Donnell.”

His stomach sank with dread.  His skin felt every gaze fall upon him with hungering bloodlust.  Prickles up his spine made his fur raise.  A growl resonated from the depths of his chest, his fangs flashing with a snarl.  Five prisoners were already stumbling their way towards them—their balance hampered by starvation and delirium. 

“OHOHOHOHO, that’s right, folks!  The name of the game is… MURDER!  In all its bloody and very much permanent glory!” Archie cackled.

You fucking nutcase.  You’re too much of a fucking coward to face us fair an’ square, you gotta resort to this shit.

“Wolf…?” Andrew asked with growing alarm, tugging on Wolf’s tattered sleeve.

One of the prisoners – a feral looking bobcat-- broke out into a run, bloodlust in his eyes—eyes directed straight at Wolf. 

“Wolf!” Andrew screamed, tugging faster.                              

Two strides and the prisoner was nearly upon them.  Wolf grabbed a handful of the chain between his and Andrew’s cuffs, doubling it up then whirling it back with feigned expertise.  He heard Andrew stumble behind him, tugged by the chain’s momentum.  As the prisoner lunged forward, Wolf hurled the chain at him, catching their attacker in the eye.  The prisoner’s hands moved to his own face, yowling in pain.  Wolf followed up with a firm kick to the cat’s gut, letting him fall to the ground. Those hungering eyes Wolf had sensed before seemed to only intense further. 

“Run!” Wolf yelled and, without thinking twice, bolted for the distant thicket of trees.

“Buuuuuut wait!  There’s more!” Archie continued to announce as they ran. “I’ve done you all the pleasure of hiding some fancy fun weapons around the arena—y’know, to make the murderifying all the more fun!  Look around, I’m sure you can find somethin’ to skin a wolf with!”

If they’re lying around, then we can use them too.  Just need to keep an eye out…

The chain between their pairs of handcuffs bounced as they sprinted away from the hollering prisoners behind them.  Andrew’s long legs quickly overtook Wolf’s much more moderate strides.  The simian tried to gather the chain in his hands so that it would not drag the ground, but his sweaty palms kept losing the metal link every few paces.  By the time Wolf crashed into underbrush of the first thicket, Andrew had halved the chain’s length, holding the rest in his hands.

Once they reached the thicket, he felt the chain between them tighten.  Wolf stumbled, throwing Andrew an accusatory look as the simian slowed his pace.  He ducked behind a tree.

“Just need… a second…” panted Andrew.

“We don’t got time!” Wolf snapped, haughtily tugging on the chain. 

Andrew’s pale brow furrowed angrily but he obliged his superior—they tore through the underbrush with reckless abandon and pounding hearts. Twigs from the trees scraped against Wolf’s cheek and jabbed his sides but fear of the growing mob behind them was an amazing motivator.  He was growing keenly aware of the fact that the shouts were growing louder.

“Over there!” Andrew yelled and Wolf’s head snapped in the direction he was pointing.

Something glistened in the dirt, nearly lost amid the fallen leaves and shadows of the branches.  Andrew began towards it with such vigor that Wolf felt himself get dragged along with him. 

“Andrew,” Wolf growled. “We can’t—”

Wonder cut him off.  His ears perked as the simian pulled a metallic rod from the ground, its body made of sunny yellow gold.  Amethyst gems had been fixated into it.  Its base was crafted into a diamond-like shape.  Its head was a triangle, a stone set in its middle.  Perhaps it was an old relic from bygone days, when the world still believed in magic and fantasy.  But Wolf was more or less certain it was just a fancy shower rod Archie had dropped into the Grounds as a prank.

“That’s not a gun,” Wolf remarked.  The shouts were growing closer.

“It’s better than nothing,” Andrew retorted.                   

Usually I’d give him shit for this but…

He heard something crash through the bushes, speeding towards them.  Instinctively, he crouched.  With his hands bound, he knew there was little he could do—any amount of fistfighting would see both Andrew and himself at a severe disadvantage.  He thought about running but beyond the thicket, he was not sure where else they could go.  What would happen when they hit the far end of the Grounds?  Would they be trapped?  Heart racing, the canine looked to his team mate. 

If only he knew how to use his powers.  But I guess that’d just be too convenient.  Fuck.  How are we gonna get out of this one?!

A hairy boar broke through the underbrush, bellowing with primal rage.  His hands were unbound, his fists curled and raised.  Wolf braced himself, splaying his legs in a comfortable fighting position.  Andrew did not move, still clutching onto his glorified shower rod in fearful silence.  As the boar swung in for the first hit, Wolf grabbed the chain between his cuffs and Andrew’s and threw it at the hulking man’s neck, ducking to the right to tighten it.  He felt the chain jerk hard the opposite way and his momentum was carried back towards the boar.  Wolf’s shoulder collided with that of their pursuer but it was the sickening, resounding crack that echoed the woods that sent a chill down Wolf’s spine.  He looked up as Andrew withdrew the rod from the boar’s head, its triangular tip glistening crimson.  The boar had crumpled so fast that Wolf’s vision had missed it.  Whether he was dead or unconscious was something the canine did not wish to check.  Instead, his single gaze moved to Andrew, who was wincing and pressing his elbow into his own side.  Wolf had almost forgotten the simian had been injured in the heist.

“Nice one,” commented Wolf to his teammate and Andrew replied with a haggard grunt. 

Louder crashing in the woods coupled with the sounds of blasters being fired spurred the two to resume their run.  Wolf held the chain to keep it from snagging and Andrew ran with his newfound prize clutched desperately in his hands.  The woods thinned, revealing a field that gave Wolf blinding anxiety.  The openness felt like death had come for them.  His gaze flitted between the sky and their destination.  Ahead were a series of craggy hills.  With some luck, they could find cover there—cover that was a bit further away from the melee.

They ascended a hill and Wolf heard a shot blast their direction.  It fell yards upon yards short but there was no mistaking that they were being followed.  Descending down that first hill, Wolf let his momentum carry him back down to the bottom.  Andrew lagged behind, drawing tight the chain.  Wolf gave it a little tug to encourage the ape but he did not seem to be inspired by the gesture at all.  He tugged back. Wolf’s frustration grew but he quelled it—now was not the time to argue.  He tossed a look back at Andrew, seeing the way the lanky simian ran and taking particular note of his unsteadiness.  Wolf bit back a growl.  They would need to take a moment to rest soon.

The terrain stayed rocky and dry but soon the hills became more jagged.  The tall fence loomed overhead—if Wolf could guess, he’d say it was maybe twenty yards away, beyond a hill with a carved-out overhang… He did a doubletake, then zeroed in on the overhang eagerly.  Andrew’s pace had slowed even more.  Wolf pulled the chain tight to no avail.  Andrew lumbered over at his own pace, panting heavily. 

“Get down here,” Wolf said and Andrew’s head bobbed up and down.  He practically fell to the ground, landing ungracefully on his behind with his back to the dirt wall of the hill.  Wolf sat down next to him, letting the small cliff overhead shield them from overhead sight.

“Wolf…” Andrew said with a wince. “I’ve been tryin’ to hold it back but…” His golden gaze wandered down to his injured side. “It hurts.”

Fuck.  Well, I guess he wasn’t lucky enough to get shot when Leon was around.  Some of that bloodsealer would do him wonders. 

“I get it,” Wolf replied.  “But if we don’t move, we’re dead.”

“Hear that?  I don’t think anyone’s chasing us,” Andrew panted with the shake of his head. “We can… we can take a minute…”

The undercrop they hid beneath offered some protection against prying eyes but Wolf knew as soon as they were spotted, they were cornered.  Anxiety nipped at him as Andrew leaned back, desperately clawing at the rim of his shirt.  He pulled it back to expose the burn mark from the laser that he had taken in the side the day before.  Bits of the snowy fur around it had blackened.  Wolf was no doctor but the wound itself looked vaguely as though it was mending… but slowly.  Without an actual doctor’s touch, he doubted the heir would have much relief from his pain.

“This wasn’t bothering you when we ran from the cell,” Wolf huffed as Andrew let his shirt fall back onto the wound. 

“Maybe the painkillers wore off?” Andrew suggested weakly, turning to look at him.  Their furious sprint had ruffled the ape’s white fur.  The claw mark that Archie had engraved in his cheek stood out more prominently than before.  Wolf’s stomach did a somersault.

“Maybe,” echoed the canine.  “Well, when you’re done catchin’ yer breath, we gotta keep movin’.  So—”

Heavy footsteps crashing through the underbrush tore his attention from the simian.  Without thinking twice, he grabbed the amethyst-ridden rod from Andrew’s unsuspecting, light grip and crouched low to the ground.  The rod felt clunky in his hands but the canine knew he could swing a baseball bat with a lethal enough force—a metallic shower rod would likely be just as effective. 

Wolf lunged, forgetting for a moment that he was still tethered to Andrew.  The chain tightened, shortening his charge forward abruptly.  Desperately, the canine swung the rod, catching the would-be hunter in the jaw.  The rod’s strike felt satisfying in his hands.

“AGH!” cried out a familiar voice and Wolf felt his blood turn to ice.  His single eye traveled down, rod lifted for a follow up smack.

Lenny sat in front of him, massaging his jaw with a hand.  His T-shirt had been ripped at the sleeves, exposing his large, scaly shoulders.  His scalp was missing his usual crimson hat.  A few of the scales on his forearms had been punctured. Shadows rested beneath his eyes, aging him further.  Blood vessels stood out against the whites of his sclera, spreading across each eye like a thousand spider webs.

“By the goddamn stars, O’Donnell, you dumb fuck.  It’s me!” the crocodile snapped at him.  He moved his jaw about, still running his fingers over it. 

“Lenny!” Wolf stammered and then offered a hand to his former boss. The old croc seized it and, with some difficulty, Wolf hoisted him to his feet.  “I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Of course ya didn’t,” Lenny grumbled. Wolf beckoned him back towards the overhang and the reptile obliged with a hobble.  “How did we manage to end up in this shithole?”

“You don’t remember?” Wolf asked incredulously. “We tried to save you.”

“Tried,” Andrew chimed in bitterly and most unhelpfully.

“And why would ya do that?” Lenny asked with a frown.  “Ya know Archie would use me as bait!”

Wolf felt himself wince.  Dodging the croc’s glare, he hunkered down next to Andrew with a hissing exhale and a scowl on his muzzle.  The possibility of Lenny being used as bait had been high—but blind desperation had kept Wolf from thinking clearly.  He knew it and he silently chastised himself for it.  Eladard’s bittersweet nostalgia had gotten to his head.  Archie’s vendetta had clouded his judgment.  Wolf ran his hand through his light grey fringe, combing out a few fledgling tangles.  Dread and frustration coupled in his stomach and chest, squeezing at his last nerve.   

It was Andrew’s fault, he stubbornly thought to himself, trying hard to bypass blaming himself.  It was a failed attempt.  He sighed, glancing from Lenny to Andrew.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Wolf replied, not bothering to curb his harsh tone. “We can debate whose fault it was later.  We’re in the middle of a damn warzone and we need to get outta here before shit gets worse.”

Lenny eyed him up and down but nodded in agreement. “I used to shoot for fun but it was never anything that moved.  Ya might want this.”

From his belt, he produced a small pistol— silver with a small lion’s snarling face emblazoned on its side. The words “LIONHEART CORPS” were engraved in a fancy font near the handle.  Wolf was certain he had heard that name before but could not remember where. It was likely some would-be competitor of Space Dynamics or some of the big name Macbethian companies like Sharpeye or Cometstrike.

Lenny seemed to sense his curiosity and added, “I found it near where I got released.  Must be one of Archie’s toys.”

Wolf accepted the pistol, looking it over carefully.  It was lightweight and had a mode for lethal shots but he was unimpressed overall.  Still, a blaster was a blaster and he knew better than to turn it away.

“Thanks.  I’ll do the shootin’.  Andrew, here’s your toy back,” Wolf said, handing Andrew the golden rod back.  Lenny’s eyes followed it curiously but the croc said nothing. 

“Did you see anything while you were out there?” Wolf asked as he finished his glance over the pistol.

“Lots of trees an’ some poor fucks that have seen better days,” Lenny remarked.

Wolf glared at him, “Anything helpful?”

“They’re mostly fightin’ each other.  I don’t think they’re smart enough to know who ya are,” Lenny chuckled.

“Good.  We can use the chaos to our advantage.  I think our best bet is finding where the generator is that powers the overhead barrier.  If we can blast it… maybe we see about knocking some of the fence down,” Wolf said thoughtfully.

“Overhead barrier?” Andrew asked with a cautious glance up towards the blue sky.

“Ya can’t see it from down here but it’s there.  They keep it up just in case someone’s buddy has a plane an’ a crazy rescue idea,” Wolf replied. “Not entirely unheard of.  Loads of people on this planet have their independent licenses and skipper planes.”

“The only problem is I think they got it on the other side o’ the fence,” Lenny shook his head. “We’d have better luck tryna to shoot the fence itself.”

“With this?” Wolf asked, holding up the pistol. “It’d take forever.”

“Ugh.  Yer the space pirate, aren’t you?  Can ya come up with a better plan?” Lenny asked.

No.  Not without getting a better visual of the fence.  I know when I used to work here, it was mostly chainlink—not built to withstand much.  Lasers could’ve shredded it to pieces… but that was then.  Now, Archie’s upgraded everything.  For all we know, the fences have been reinforced with protective metals.  But we don’t know.  And that’s the problem.  There’s too many factors we don’t know…

The canine stopped, detecting a distant whir. 

That’s it.  We’re focusing too much on what we don’t know that we’re not paying attention to what we DO know.

“What’s that?” Andrew asked fearfully.  Wolf could feel Lenny’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Get down!” Wolf hissed at them and they obeyed without question.

Pressed into the crusty dirt, Wolf cast a fearful look up, past the rim of the overhang they hid beneath.  A pentagon-shaped platform drifted ahead, propelled by a jet of blue flames underneath.  Atop it stood three figures.  Wolf traced their silhouettes, recognition hitting him nearly immediately.  Archie’s towering figure was hard to miss.  He had a rifle resting against his shoulder, its thin barrel so petite compared to his hulking form that it looked as though the bear could snap it effortlessly.  Zula’s unruly, vivid mane caught the sunlight, making the strands glisten like gemstones.  She had a combat blaster in hand but her gaze was focused on Archie, laughing at a joke she was probably forced to appreciate.  The other one on the floating platform was the bulldog from earlier.

“It’s him…!” Andrew whispered.  “Do you think you can hit him from here?”

He looked down to the small blaster in his hand.  Its differences from his regular Macbethian model were stark and telling.  Perhaps if he had one of Leon’s sniper rifles, he could make the shot.  But a small pistol?  He would be lucky if he even dinged the platform they were standing on.  Wolf chewed on the thought for a few moments, swinging his violet eye from the pistol to the platform. 

“I have an idea,” murmured Wolf, mostly to himself.  He could feel Lenny tense next to him, his claws gripping the dirt in tightened fists. 

Drawing in a breath, Wolf lay sprawled on his stomach, flattening himself against the ground as best as he could.  Gradually, he turned the pistol’s nose towards the platform as it hovered over the Grounds—Archie atop it looking like a god watching over his brutal world of death and blood.  He dragged the pistol’s aim from the bear to the fiery jet below the platform.  One shot—that was all he had.  If he hit the jet just right, maybe he could destabilize the platform.  They would crash.  Maybe if they were really lucky, the platform would find its way into the fence as it fell. 

All right, O’Donnell, don’t fuck this up.  You got one chance.  Make it count.

He flicked the pistol into kill mode. His gaze swung from the platform to a nearby thicket of brushes.  If this went bad, he figured they could try to make for the woods—but that was a gamble, given that they had three blasters on their side and they had one measly peashooter.  Wolf’s grip tightened involuntarily, his stomach doing flips.  One shot—make or break.  If this all went to hell, then they were going to be remembered as Archie’s throw rugs over a tacky Cornerian-made couch.  One shot… and he was not a fan of their odds.

Heh where’s that bravado from before?  I could really use that right now…

“Wolf,” Lenny said to him quietly. “Wolf…”

He turned to look at the croc.  It took more effort than he would have liked to admit to loosen his fingers around the pistol.  He did so with a small sigh, trying to shake off his nerves.

“Remember that ol’ sayin’ I used to tell ya,” Lenny’s voice softened.  It was an uncharacteristic whisper.  “Sometimes it’s best not to hesitate.  Sometimes ya just need to act.”

Pull the trigger, O’Donnell.

“Right, right…” Wolf breathed.  Violet eye wide open, he fluidly lifted the gun, letting his intuition tell him where to aim.

Yet, before he could squeeze the trigger, something caught his eye. Archie stiffened his posture, keenly staring out into the Grounds.  Immediately, the canine’s limbs turned to ice. He prayed the silver of the gun in his hand would not reflect off the light and give away their position. With his breath held, he watched the bear aim his gun into the ground the opposite direction of the hiding trio and pop off a single shot.  A scream tore through the distance—some unfortunate sod that had caught the self-proclaimed Baron’s attention.

His back’s turned.  Do it.  Pull the trigger.  End this fucking nightmare, O’Donnell.  Put his ass in the ground next to his brother.  Where they both fucking belong.

His finger squeezed halfway.  Shocked, he watched the platform lurch forward with surprising speed—the opposite way still.  Their backs were turned.  His finger dropped off the trigger, caressing the silver side of the pistol with silent hatred and burning longing for his Macbethian blaster. If there had been any question before, Wolf knew Archie and his cohorts were out of range.  It was not long before the platform itself was out of sight.  A second shot rang out from Archie’s rifle.  No scream this time.

 “Damn it,” Wolf cursed.

“Unlucky,” Lenny shook his head. “What now?”

“Let’s get a closer look at the fence and see what we can do.  Bonus if we can get these stupid cuffs off,” Wolf said to the other two. “It’ll be dangerous, so keep quiet.  And keep your eyes peeled.”

He wandered from the overhang, pistol in hand.  The Grounds had gone strangely quiet.  Maybe some of the rabble had killed each other in their deluded, savage fight near where they had all been released.  Wolf tossed a gander back at the other two, noting how Lenny helped Andrew to his feet.  The old croc did not seem in the best shape himself but his sharp demeanor told Wolf he did not intend to go down without a fight. 

Ears ever perked for the familiar sound of Archie’s platform whirring from on high, Wolf led the other two back towards the forest.  They cut a different path, heading northward.  The woods thickened briefly.  Thorns on some of the low-creeping underbrush caught Wolf’s pants, nipping through the cloth and stinging his legs.  He bit back a growl of annoyance, flattening his ears back.

The first victim they saw was a dog, a laser blast fixed between his wide, frozen eyes.  He was slumped over a fallen log, drying, dark blood seeping near his chest.  Andrew took a moment to hastily search him for a weapon but found nothing. 

We’ve stayed outta the fight so far.  And probably for the better.  With these cuffs on, we’re gimped even more than the other prisoners.

His ears swiveled at the sound of gunfire.  Wordlessly, he crouched low to the ground, beckoning the others to follow suit.  The two prisoners came into view.  From the blood on one, Wolf couldn’t tell his species—not that it mattered because the poor sod’s enemy ended his existence with a desperate shot to the head.  The bloodied one was dead before his body hit the ground, a strangely merciful end in Archie’s domain.  The survivor was a wily looking prairie dog, who began to rummage through the freshly made corpse’s pockets.  Wolf took the opportunity to rise up.  He brought the pistol up, tugging a bit on the chain so that Andrew would give him enough slack to aim properly.  Unfortunately, his movement doing so caught the prairie dog’s attention.  Wolf pulled harder and popped off a shot, ears back. The prairie dog’s body fell atop his quarry’s.

“Stand closer to me,” Wolf gruffly snapped at the simian. “You’re making it hard to aim.”

“I’m trying!” Andrew snapped back.

Wolf rolled his eye and stalked towards the fallen prisoners.  He snatched the blaster off the prairie dog, looking it over and feeling its weight.  From a glance he could tell it was Cornerian-made but older—probably a model two generations back. Despite its age, it was far more comfortable than the Lionheart model.  He handed the pistol to Andrew.

“Hey Wolf, why don’t we just shoot our cuffs?” Andrew asked.

“And risk taking a finger off?” Wolf tossed back at the ape. “Nah, won’t work.  These cuffs are pretty solid.  It’d take a lot of hits to just sever the chain.  And by then, everyone would hear us. Speakin’ of which, let’s keep movin’.”

“It’d make it easier for you to aim,” Andrew pointed out but Wolf chose to ignore him. 

He pushed the prairie dog’s corpse off of the other prisoner, surprised to see an older looking jackrabbit beneath.  Tiny wrinkles had taken up residence on her cheeks.  She looked like she had been someone pulled off the street—just some random’s grandma, who ought to have been at home, baking cookies.  She had died clutching onto her gun as if it had been her only means of salvation from this hellhole.  Wolf picked it up, her blood seeping onto his palms.  It had failed her.  Perhaps it would not fail them.  He handed the gun to Lenny. 

“That’s messed up,” Lenny said quietly.

“All of this is messed up,” Wolf reminded him.

As the croc accepted the gun grimly, filtered light from the overhead trees caught the flash of something to their right.  Wolf’s head jerked in its direction, pointing his gun at it with the tips of his fangs visible in a growl.  As soon as he saw movement amid the thin-trunked trees, he fired—no hesitation, no mercy.  The shot burst through the bark of a tree, leaving it scorched and blackened.

“Wait!” a frail, shivering voice called out.  It was meek enough to give even Wolf pause.  The voice called out again. “I’m on your side!”

Doubt filled him.  He kept the barrel of his gun trained on the stranger as he approached, hands held high overhead.  The creature was a gray-furred mouse, with wide ears and a small, pointed nose.  A hole had been shot out of his left ear ages ago, leaving a comically large hole in the cartilage.  His whiskers were bent and unkempt.  His tiny hands were empty… save for a strange silvery rod about five inches long.

“I’ve never seen you in my life,” Wolf spat. “So ya better have somethin’ good to say, or these two—” He nudged the two corpses with his boot. “—are gonna have company in the afterlife.”

“You’re Wolf O’Donnell,” the mouse said breathlessly. “You’re the one he wants…”

“You’re not convincin’ me,” Wolf said, trigger finger twitching in paranoia. “What’s that ya got in your hand?”

“This?  Oh… oh, it’s a prototype weapon.  Something from the big city, I think.  I just know that when I click this button…” the mouse said, clicking the button.  Light emerged from the end of the rod, blossoming into a controlled neon blue beam.  Its glow shone bright as a star at first and Wolf’s right eye had to squint to keep focused on the mouse.

“This happens… it can cut through anything…” the mouse continued. “Even that…” His mischievous eyes moved to the chain dangling between Wolf’s cuffs and Andrew’s. “That chain…”

Cut through anything?  Even the fence?

“Interestin’,” Wolf replied with his ears back. “And whaddya want for it?”

The mouse smiled from ear to ear.

“I want you to take me with you when we get out of this dump.”

Chapter Text

            Wolf eyed the rodent in apprehension.  The mouse lowered the laser sword, clicking it back off and holding his hands up again—perhaps as a sign of good faith.  But the more Wolf looked at the mouse, the more he began to think the stranger was not entirely accustomed to the outlaw life.  His vest was tattered at the sleeves and his white shirt was stained with mud.  He carried himself humbly but Wolf could see the tension that lined his slender frame.  The mouse was going to spring if Wolf gave him a less-than-desirable answer and Wolf was certain that blade would come back on in an instant. 

            “What do you two think?” Wolf asked Lenny and Andrew.

            “Don’t need to spill more blood than what’s already been spilt,” Lenny said gruffly. “I ain’t ever seen him before.  And ya know I never forget a face.  Not even in a big city like Corona.”

            “I don’t trust anyone in here,” Andrew said with the vehement shake of his head.  Nonetheless, his eyes sparkled with intrigue at the rod in the mouse’s hand. “But that weapon would be really handy.”

            Why couldn’t we have found that instead of the bejeweled shower rod, I’ll never know.

            “What’s your name?” Wolf asked the mouse.

            “Me?  Oh… Kevin.  Kevin Mouser,” the rodent said with a humble bow.

            “How’d you end up here?” Andrew asked and Wolf stifled an annoyed growl.  As much as he loved the idea of finding out more information about their new friend, he felt exposed, as though Archie was going to come drifting out any second with a fire of lasers upon them. 

            “Oh me?  I’m a thief,” Kevin shrugged. “Got caught trying to break into Archie’s manor awhile back.  He chucked me in here along with the rest o’ the people that piss ‘em off.”

            “Why were ya tryin’ to break into his manor?  Only idiots do that,” Lenny remarked.

            Wolf exchanged looks with Andrew.  The simian tugged at the yellow bandana around his nape, dodging his leader’s look.  He could see a rosy blush forming around Andrew’s cheeks, the guilt plastered in his yellow irises. 

            Only idiots… right, Lenny.  I guess that’s what we are.

            “Ehehe, the bear’s crazy.  But he’s got a nice stash o’ valuables,” Kevin shrugged again.  “So, Wolf, what’s yer answer?  Do we got a deal?”

            “We do.  But I’ll take the laser sword,” Wolf said, extending his free hand out cautiously.

            “Ah-ah-ah!  Oldest trick in the book—take the sword, stab Poor Kevin, run off into the sunset,” Kevin shook his head. “I’ll cut it—nice and careful now.  You don’t have to worry about me.  I’m a mouse.  What can mice do, eh?” His ear-to-ear smile sent a small set of prickles down Wolf’s spine.

            He’s not giving me many options here.  And if we’re not careful, we’ll get spotted by someone who’s less willing to talk than this guy.

            “Put that sword through my hand,” Wolf began, his unease worn on his sleeve.  His tattered ears peeled back, words enunciated with the glimmer of his fangs. “And I’ll make sure you live to regret it.”

            “Hehe, you got it,” Kevin grinned.  He beckoned Wolf come closer to him, which the canine obliged—albeit with extreme reluctance and a tossed look at Andrew, who was visibly sweating. 

            Kevin’s small, worn hand reached out and clasped Wolf’s right wrist gently.  Without being told, Wolf tried to spread his wrists apart as much as possible to give the mouse more room to work with.  As soon as the blue laser hummed back to life, Wolf instinctively took a step back.  Its light illuminated Kevin’s features, highlighting the raggedy pieces of fur that seemed to clump together in certain spots, as though the rodent had been deprived of a bath for a while.  His nose twitched and after the third or fourth time, Wolf realized it must have been involuntary.  Perhaps it was a nervous tick?  Mistrust evident in Wolf’s expression, he fought hard against his instincts to stand firm.  He mentally braced himself as the mouse lifted the laser sword with drawn-out bravado.  Heart racing, he watched the sword come down suddenly like an executioner’s axe, destroying the chain between his cuffs in an instant. 

            Though the remnants of the shackles still clung to his wrists, Wolf savored the feeling of being able to stretch his arms.  He felt a few vertebrae crackle as he stretched, careful of the heated severed chain dangling from the cuffs still about his wrists.  Was this a stroke of good luck, perhaps?  The canine smirked wistfully for a moment, watching the metal cool in the Eladardian air.  For all of the bad things that had happened lately, he had not expected to find an ounce of mercy in this merciless land. 

            “Should do fer now, eh?” Kevin grinned. “Monkey Boy, you too.”

            Andrew shot Wolf an apprehensive look but stepped forward.  When Kevin had freed the simian of his bonds, Andrew breathed a quite visible sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging with the exhale.  The chains fell to the ground with a soft thud and a small rattle.  Andrew gave the long one that had bound him to Wolf an extra kick for good measure. 

            “Thanks,” Wolf said, his caution still laced in his voice but the tension slowly withering in his shoulders.  “Let’s head for the fence and get the hell outta here.”

            Kevin nodded, switching the laser sword off.  He hung it on his belt then gestured for Wolf to lead the way.  Wolf kept his blaster at the ready as they proceeded through the thin woods.  There were less shouts than before, permitting an unsettling silence to fall onto the Grounds.  It did little to satisfy the canine’s nerves.  The slightest scurry in the brushes set Wolf’s reflexes alight with adrenaline.  Twice he fired into the bushes at unseen enemies.  No cries came.  No scent of death and blood followed.

            Easy there, O’Donnell.  If you let this place get to you, you’ll end up dead and the other three won’t be far behind.

            When the fence came into sight between the feeble branches ahead, Wolf felt his grip tighten.  The trees thinned, giving way to a small meadow.  The canine hesitated before he stepped out from the pale shadows, letting the sunlight fall over him.  It was hot through his thick gray fur.  Each breath had become a soft pant and he felt the skin beneath his clothes itch uncomfortably, as if the fabric was weighing down extra heavily upon him.  He glanced to the others, to Andrew’s sweaty face, to Lenny’s exhausted eyes, and then to Kevin, who looked like a hunched-back gremlin.  The mouse kept low to the ground, as if the wispy, dry grass would cover up his smoky coat and peasant’s vest. 

            The fence was reinforced—that much Wolf could tell from a simple glance.  Its metal had been layered with various other materials to strengthen it.  No doubt Archie had foreseen something to the effect of their half-baked plan when he had constructed it.  The fence reached high into the sky, stabbing the heavens with ugly prongs that curved inward.  A wavering force field overhead kept them in and any prying eyes out.  Wolf sighed. 

            “Is the coast clear?” Lenny asked, shiftily looking about the clearing.  The nose of his blaster swung about with suspicion.

            “I guess so,” Wolf replied.

            “You guess?” Lenny asked, not sounding the least bit reassured.

            Wolf’s left ear flitted back and he shot the croc an irritated scowl before looking to Kevin.  With a clawed finger he pointed to the rodent and then to the fence. “We’ll cover you.  Get to it.”

            “Hehehe, will do!” Kevin said with a snarky salute.  Keeping low to the ground, he scurried forward.  Wolf watched him approach the fence, then looked to the other two.

            “Fan out.”

            Andrew took the left side with his metal rod, clinging onto it as though it were life itself.  He held it in both hands at the middle, its violet jewels glistening.  Lenny took up the other side, holding his gun at the ready.  Wolf thought briefly about telling the croc to swap weapons with Andrew but he recalled Andrew’s track record at the firing range and opted to keep quiet.  Gaze sweeping across the sickly, brown woods, Wolf sidled up near where Kevin was working on the fence.  The rodent’s mutterings caught his ear and try as he might to ignore the inane chatter, Wolf could not help but eavesdrop.

            “… Oh yes, ‘break into the bear’s house’, they said.  ‘It’ll be fun’, they said…” Kevin grumbled as he stabbed the laser sword into the fence.  His movements were slow, carving out chunks of the wall bit by bit.  A glance at his work and Wolf could see that bits of the metal had melted, oozing gradually onto the dirt like disgustingly thick, gray fudge.

            “The things I do for people… the things I do…” lamented the rodent in a volume that was just over a whisper.

            “Wolf!” Andrew’s voice alerted him and Wolf’s head swung in the simian’s direction.  

            Something was making its way towards them, weaving between the thin, dead tree trunks.  Wolf could not tell what it was but an astray shot fired from its direction signaled that it was nothing friendly.   He approached Andrew, grabbing the lanky monkey by the shoulder and pulling him back.  Wolf trained the barrel of his gun on the approaching attacker, popping off a few abrupt shots.  They scattered and burst into the trees-- all lousy misses.  He dodged to the left when the next rain of red lasers came, returning fire as the attacker breached the tree line.  It was some mud-covered lout, a dog if he did not know any better.  Clumps of foam clung to the fur near his mouth. The attacker gave a bestial snarl into the sky, its shrill tone raising Wolf’s hackles. 

            As the dog lunged at Wolf, he fired and Wolf shot back with a snarl written upon his muzzle.  Both shots missed.  Wolf pivoted with his left foot, turning and strafing a few shots as the dog dashed by.  The attacker’s sprint was cut short by a blast from Lenny.  One shot seared through the rabid dog’s chest, dropping him instantly.  Wolf stopped, feeling his own heartbeat thrum in his ears for a few long seconds.  He glanced to the crocodile, taking quiet note of the hard look in the croc’s eyes as he lowered his gun.  Catching Wolf’s look, Lenny nodded to him, dodging eye contact.  A grim expression befell his face and he returned to his lookout position. Andrew scurried over to pick up the fallen prisoner’s blaster.

            “Close one,” Andrew breathed, the edges of his mouth curling up into a relieved smile.

            “Almost got it!” Kevin announced gleefully.

            Wolf turned to the mouse, watching the laser sword cleave through another layer of wall.  Patches of the outside were beginning to seep through the molten metal, the gloomy daylight somehow brighter on the other side of the enclosure.  Wolf opened his mouth to tell the others to get ready but his ear caught the sound of something else.  A soft whirr of machinery and an engine bade him to turn his head back towards the woods.  Brow creased with confusion, the canine searched the decaying woods for a few moments before he finally turned his gaze skyward.  He could see a shadow falling over the topmost branches, stretching out.  Recognition hit him.  He turned to grab Kevin but the mouse was yards away, obliviously carving his way to freedom.

            It’s him.  That mutt’s screaming must’ve lured him here.

            Before a word could fall from Wolf’s mouth, a shot rang out.  Kevin screamed as he fell down, landing on his back in the wispy grass and dirt.  The sword deactivated, thudding to the ground with smoke billowing from its ruined handle.  Lenny shouted an incoherent panicked babble, firing up at the incoming hovering platform.  Towering above the controls was Archie’s hulking frame, a rifle training down upon the four.  Wolf jolted forward, popping off three shots that futilely bounced off the platform’s underside. A second shot from Archie’s gun zipped past Wolf’s left ear.  

            Back to the old plan.  Hit the engine.

            The platform surged forward and Archie’s third shot rang out with it.  Wolf kept low to the ground as he ran, ears pressed back.  The platform provided a vantage point but it had a glaring weakness-- Archie could not shoot directly below.  Under the platform was a blindspot and directly below the engine.  A single hit and a dash away from the falling machine-- that was all they needed.  Wolf held his breath as he charged forward, ducking under the engine’s blue flame and aiming upwards.  Heat blew over his face, the brilliant glow of the engine blinding him.  He aimed and squeezed the trigger as many times as he could before sprinting out from under its shadow. When no crackle or explosion resounded, Wolf whirled around, pointing the gun at the hovering platform as it circled slowly overhead. 

            Did I miss? Or is it protected somehow?

            The glint off of Archie’s long-nosed blaster alerted him and he evaded another laser.  

            “Dance, Wolfie, dance!” Archie cheered for him, his fanged smile so wide that Wolf could see it from where he was running.  The brutish dog standing next to him took over the controls.  Archie snarled over his shoulder. “Zula, take care of the other two!”

            “Already on, it, Baron!” the hyena called back.

            Need to knock that platform down or we’re fucked.

            Wolf ran, not knowing what else he could do.  Archie’s shots trailed after him, searing into the dirt and bursting through the trees.  A few slender trees creaked, one falling over somewhere in the backdrop.  

            If I draw them this way, they’ll leave the others alone… He considered, ducking under a branch as it exploded into a shower of splinters.  Archie wants me, after all.  He’d swipe kills from Zula if that meant he gets to thrash me.  

            “Or you could come down here an’ dance with me!” Wolf yelled up at Archie.

            “OHOHOHOHO? I’ll consider it if you promise you’ll show me how nice an’ red your blood is,” Archie smiled at him and promptly fired.

            Wolf tried to react in time but felt pain in his left ear, cutting through the skin near the outer edge.   A gasp tore from his mouth but he moved to the side regardless, clasping his bleeding ear with his free hand.  Archie’s cackling echoed like thunder.  Blood seeping between his fingers, Wolf fired back with gnashed fangs, aiming high and watching his lasers fruitlessly bounce off of the platform’s sides.  Wolf’s eye trained upon the guard they had taken with them—the one that was piloting the platform.  Catching sight of Wolf, the dog tried to surge the platform forward but he was too late.  Wolf fired desperately, his gambit paying off as the laser found its way through the guard’s skull.  The platform swerved wildly as the dog’s body fell forward, Zula and Archie’s yelps like music to Wolf’s ears.

            Wolf continued his flurry of lasers at the platform, taking brief note of Andrew and Lenny following suit.  Archie threw the dog’s corpse overboard roughly, grabbing the control stick and stabilizing it.  Zula’s hair was tossed wildly into her eyes, a snarl erupting from her dark snout.  He lifted the platform higher, further from their range. 

            “Three versus two, that’s not very fair, hmm?  I’m thinking we need to…” Archie produced a circular grenade from below the control panel. “... even the grounds a bit?  Does that sound FUN to you?  Because…” 

            Fuck.

            “It does to meeeeee!”

            A single flick of the wrist and the grenade was airborne.  

            “Shoot it!” Wolf screamed at the other two.

            Fear gripped him tightly, squeezing around his ribcage.  He watched the grenade arc up, his lasers zipping all around it.  Andrew was screaming somewhere in the background.  Lenny’s hoarse voice pleaded for them to hit it.  Blood cascaded down the side of his face, soaking into the fluff of his neck.  His arms shook-- exhaustion and fear conspired against his accuracy.  He watched the grenade begin to fall, a descent that would take them all to Hell.

            White light exploded to his left-- his blind side.  He turned his head to look at it, drawing his gaze momentarily from the falling bomb.  Andrew was the first person he saw, lunging forward with that goddamn shower rod of all things.  Its jeweled head brimmed with blue-white light, an inexplicable draft of cold air blowing back Wolf’s unruly fur.  He shielded his eyes, feeling frost fall onto his features.

            What…

            When the light had faded, he realized they were standing in snow.  It almost concealed the canine’s toe and had exploded in a circular flurry around the combatants.  Wolf’s eye worked its way to the center of the snow pile, to a large beam of ice that stood in the ground, piercing through Archie’s platform engine.  It lifted the platform sky-high, smoke billowing out of where it had been impaled.  Archie stood to the side, marveling at it with childish wonder.  

            How in the fucking world…

The eerie silence that had fallen upon them felt like the sort of silence one might expect at the onset of coming into the afterlife.  But defying all sense of logic and reason, the grenade was eye-level to Wolf, concealed in a thick layer of crystalline ice.  Wolf drew back a step, looking to the rod that had fallen from Andrew’s hands.

            “What…” Andrew stammered.

            What indeed.

            “Fuck it, I don’t care,” Wolf decided, then fired at Archie.  His lasers bounced off the underside of the platform.  Brows furrowed, the canine looked to the others, taking note of Lenny who was seeing to the injured Kevin. The rodent’s right hand had been shot through, a perfect hole burned in its center.  Agonized tears trickled down his face but he mustered a pained smile to Wolf.

            “Leave ‘em,” Wolf said to Andrew, then looked to Kevin. “Grab the sword, let’s go.”

            “Aren’t we gonna--” Andrew began, gesturing at Archie.

            “Later,” Wolf replied, hurrying towards Kevin and Lenny.  “The sword?”

            “It’s…” Kevin held up the sword’s handle.  The middle had a hole burned into it—wires exposed and crackling with failing power.  He reached out with his good hand and tried to activate the blade.  Nothing happened.  

            “Shit,” Wolf swore.

           “THAT…” Archie’s voice was stifled by the distance and scarcely recognizable from the shrill tone it had adopted.  Wolf looked up at where the bear was towering over the edge of the platform rail.  Each word was enunciated with the flash of the madman’s fangs. “THAT WAS A PREEEEEETTY COOL TRICK, WOLFIE!  BUT WHAT DO YOU WANNA BET YOU CAN’T REPLICATE IT?  ZULA.  BOMB THE FUCKERS.  BOMB THEM.  I DON’T WANNA SEE THEM AGAIN.”

            “Sir… we only had the one…” Zula growled.

            “AND WHYYYYY WOULD WE ONLY HAVE ONE?”

            “Sir, I don’t… I don’t know.”

            With a scowl, the bear hit a button, broadcasting his voice.

            “COME TO THE BIG ICE PILLAR.  ALL OF YOU USELESS FUCKS.  GEEEEET OVER HERE AND SATE YOUR FUCKING BLOODLUST.  GUARDS!  DON’T LET THEM LEAVE THIS PLACE ALIVE.”

            “Shit,” Lenny looked towards the woods fearfully. 

            Wolf looked to where the staff had fallen onto the ground.  He thought to grab it but it felt like a waste of the precious little seconds they had left.  His keen ears detected the sound of footsteps.  Their enemies were coming and would be upon them shortly. 

            Archie’s out of reach.  They’ll be here in minutes.  And I don’t think we can fight them all.

            “There!” Andrew’s voice cut through the chaotic clamor in Wolf’s mind.

            The canine traced the simian’s finger to the sky.  It was a dingy skipper—made for maybe a handful of farm hands working the fields.  It soared just above the force field dome, its aged engine making its course somewhat rickety.  What was on its wing was what surprised him the most—a slender, familiar figure with one hand clutching on for dear life. 

            Leon.

            With the grace of an ancient drunken goose, the skipper skirted over the force field’s crest, lowering when it had made it near the fence.  Wolf could hear the skipper’s engine rev.  He turned to look back at the woods, noticing the figures coming closer.  A few premature lasers fired out from the distance, thudding into the dirt yards away.  They did not have much time.

            “YES!  YES!  Shoot them!  KILL THEM!” Archie screamed.  The platform was beginning to crumble—the rail had partially fallen away and the bear was quite obviously panicking. 

            The engines were growing louder.  Wolf’s heart fluttered.  He looked to the fence then he looked to the mouse still hunched over nearby.

           “Move!” Wolf yelled, grabbing Kevin and pulling him away as the horrendous sound of metal colliding against metal filled his ears. 

            When he looked back, his assumption was confirmed. The skipper’s front half had torn through the fence and liberation was theirs.  From within the cockpit, Wolf spied Pigma grinning like an idiot.  Despite the skipper’s nose being crunched in, everything else seemed to be working fine—the engines gave another hearty rev and Pigma threw the ship in reverse, opening up the hole he had just made.  Sweet freedom was just a few feet away.

            Leon appeared as soon as the skipper had been disengaged from the wall.  His brow furrowed as he took a quick assessment of the situation.  He beckoned for the others to follow him, wild carnelian eyes darting to Wolf for silent approval.  Wolf pulled Kevin through, the rodent stumbling towards the skipper with blissful, surprised tears flaking his eyelashes. 

            “Go!” Wolf barked at the mouse and Kevin settled into the passenger seat next to where Pigma was manning the controls.

            “Heeyyyyy, what a coincidence!” Pigma grinned at him stupidly.  “Fancy seein’ ya here, Wolf!”

            “Can it!” Wolf snapped. “Andrew, Lenny, hurry up!”

            Andrew came barreling through next, followed by Lenny, who sent a few retreating shots at the incoming goons. Wolf grabbed them both, hoisting them into the skipper as Pigma began to take back off for the skies.  Leon leapt back aboard nimbly, crouching with a knife in his hand.

            “Clear!” Wolf barked to the swine.

            The skipper zipped upward as fast as it could—a pathetic pace compared to their Wolfens, but fast enough to dodge the incoming fire from Archie’s minions.  Wolf watched the ground fall away as they went airborne, his heart still hammering fervent beats in his chest.  He looked to the others, exhaustion lacing its way around his knees.  Slowly, he sank to the ground, sitting with his tipped tail curled around his bum.  Panting, the canine’s single eye fell upon Leon.

            “Took you long enough.”

            Despite himself, Wolf grinned.

            “I apologize,” Leon said with a bow.  He sat down in one of the poorly-cushioned seats.  “But I have something that will make up for our delay.”

            He produced a necklace on a silver chain.  The central pendant was a gem that resembled an opal—the rim of it black as the darkest abyss.  The more it grew to the center, the paler that darkness became, manifesting in a blue-violet whose rich hue was marred only by the twinkling of pale flecks.  The chain dangled from Leon’s hands and Wolf watched as the colors shifted ever so slightly as the pendant danced.  Beneath the tiny star-like flecks, Wolf could see hints of fiery crimson strewn about, webbed in the smallest of threads that only seemed to show when the light hit it in just the right angle.  A glimmering circlet of white diamonds surrounded the central gem.  It reminded him of space—chaos and beauty encased in a tiny fragment, a necklace that held the essence of the burning stars.

            “The necklace,” Wolf said breathlessly, his purple eye falling on Lenny.

            The croc was pensively quiet.  A clawed hand reached out for it and Leon handed it over wordlessly.  It sat heavily in Lenny’s hand.  The old scrapper turned it over, his emotion glistening in his eyes.  His long mouth had twisted into a quivering frown.  He held it up to the light and gave out a sigh, hugging the pendant close to his chest.

            “Thank you,” the croc whispered, looking to Leon, who gave his typical stoic nod.  Lenny sighed again, his shoulders heaving.  Wolf could hear the old scrapper sniffle softly.  Something in the canine’s chest stirred.  He focused his gaze on the ground below. 

            “I didn’t always live in this hellhole.  I had a wife.  I had a family.  But I had a thing for alcohol, I guess ya could say.  Wine.  Beer.  Didn’t matter.  I craved it.  All the damn time.  Used to go party it up in Corneria City… That day wasn’t any different.  My daughter, Sandy.  She used to wait up for me to come home.  Her ma would get so mad.  One night, she stayed up waitin’ for me on the driveway.  Fell asleep ‘cause I was so late.  I didn’t… I didn’t see her…” Lenny’s voice broke for a few moments. “This was her favorite necklace.  Found it in the woods back home on Corneria.  She used to tell me a crazy story about a woman from outer space giving it to her.  She told me the lady was a space witch.  She had such an imagination.”

            Silence fell.  Pigma awkwardly scratched his neck. 

            “She sounds like she was pretty neat,” Andrew said quietly from where he sat near Leon.

            “I’m glad we could get it back for ya,” Wolf said, gradually able to bring himself to look at the old scrapper.  He tried to ignore the tears that trickled down the croc’s face as he looked over the pendant. 

            “That’s all nice an’ stuff but yours truly would like it if we happened to swing by a medical center on our way to… wherever we’re headed,” Kevin piped up from the front.

            “Where… are we headed?” Leon asked, turning his gaze to Wolf. “We have fulfilled our side of the contract.  Will Lenny be fixing our ship?”

            “I will,” Lenny said firmly. “I’ll get to work on it right away.”

            “In that condition?” Wolf asked. “We’ve all been beat to hell and I don’t know when the last time any of us had a proper fucking meal.”

            Not to mention I think it’s going to be a lot harder than that. There’s still a lot of unresolved… things… we need to figure out.

            “I’ll get to work on it after we eat then,” Lenny shook his head. “Naggin’ Nancy.”

            “Aren’t we gonna get shot at again when we get back to Corona?” Andrew asked. “Should we lay low for a while somewhere?  Is there a safehouse?”

            “I know a guy,” Pigma piped up.

            “We both know a guy,” Leon said, looking to Wolf. “But, regardless, Lenny will need access to the hangar where our ship is.  Do you think Archie’s men will be waiting for us?”

            “That’s… something I’ve been thinkin’ on,” Wolf admitted with a sigh.  He stood up, running his hands through the pale gray fur atop his head. 

            “Wolf?” Leon asked.

            Ever since Andross died, our luck’s gone to shit.  Chased across space.  Stranded in this hellhole.  Nearly murdered to death by a crazy fucking bear.  Andrew was right when he said that losing is exhausting. 

            He cast a solemn look across the Eladardian deadlands.  Pigma was taking them near the mountains.  Desolate factories sat beneath them, corpses from a bygone era where Eladard had once flourished.  Wolf remembered how Andross had promised them all that the Lylat System would see change.  There would be no more planets where the dogs reaped what they wanted, leaving husks behind.  But that had fallen through.  And now people like Archie existed, making more corpses for the sake of it.  Eladard was a planet for skeletons—part of him had always known this, ever since he had left.  No one had ever come here because they wanted to.  They were always pushed by the cruel hand of fate and misfortune.  It had happened to him twice now and now he had to ask himself how he wanted to leave—in a body bag or leaving a trail of bodies behind.  There was an obvious answer.

            As soon as they would reach the hangar, he knew an execution squad would be waiting for them.  They could try to press immediately to the hangar but that was futile—Lenny needed equipment from his shop to patch up their rig.  By the time they had grabbed the tools, they would need to give the croc time to work.  And by then, Archie would have arrived with his entire force at his back. 

            He thought about abandoning the vessel entirely for a few painful seconds.  He had no real ties to it, it had been a gift from Andross so that they would have an easy method to travel across the Lylat System and deploy directly into a planet’s atmosphere.  They had their belongings in their quarters, sure, but Wolf had scarcely ever kept anything of value on him.  His most precious possession was his life, and he had fought tooth and nail to keep that for years. 

            There was no victory in running—he knew this.  They had fled from Venom when Star Fox had blown up Andross’s base.  Wolf had thought to stay then for a few split seconds, but then the first wave of the Cornerian conquerors came, and his mind had quickly changed.  But this time was different.  This time, they were not facing the might of the biggest army the galaxy had ever seen.

            There’s a chance… It was a stupid chance.  A fool’s chance.  But it was there.  And the thought of its victory tasted like honey.  It tasted like that thing Wolf had begun to find himself craving since the moment James McCloud’s little shit of a son had entered the fray. 

            “Don’t you ever get tired of nothing going your way?”

            Andrew’s words from before this insanity had begun echoed in his ears.  He turned his sole gaze to the simian, studying him up and down for a moment.  He had told Andrew that he had given up on such bitter feelings a long time ago.  And maybe, at the moment, Wolf O’Donnell had believed that.  But as they stood on that rickety skipper, the canine realized something about himself that he loathed to admit.

            He was tired.  He was incredibly tired.  The Lylat Wars and their miserable loss had put him in an unthinkable situation.  Venom had everything it needed for its victory to be ensured but they lost.  And they lost everything the moment Fox McCloud bested Andross.  They were on the run and Corneria was eager to see them all executed for the parts they had played.  Any form of home was gone.  There was only pressing forward, but even that felt like an impossible task after their stroke of bad luck here on Eladard. 

            Yes, Andrew.  Yes, I’m tired of losing.

            But as with all things emotional, Wolf O’Donnell swallowed his feelings and stared out at the distant Corona.  He thought back on abandoning their ship again but nearly immediately discarded the idea.  Running was not going to fix much.  Their Wolfens were on there—still high class vehicles that were their only chance if they ran into the Cornerians again.  And Wolf was certain they would.  They would be sacrificing too many resources.

            His subsequent exhaled was followed by his right eye closing.  Where Klaus had maimed him tingled like a wound that had never fully healed.  There was a choice to be made and Wolf was not even sure if it was much of a choice.

           “What are you thinking?” Leon asked him, orange irises tracing his expression.

           “There’s no way in hell that they’re gonna let us fly outta here,” Wolf announced to the others, looking back at Leon. “Not while Archie’s alive.  He owns the guards here.  He’ll know in minutes if we show up to our ship.  It’s a death sentence.  We could try to find a different vessel and run.  But that’s a lot of ‘ifs’ and I’m not a fan of letting that fucker touch my Wolfen.”

            Pigma laughed.

            “Then what are you suggesting?” Leon asked.

            “Archie’s men are weak.  We’ve killed a lot of them.  And we know their hideout now,” Wolf said gruffly.  He turned to look at his three teammates. “We’re gearin’ up and goin’ back.”

            “Back?” Andrew asked, looking alarmed.

            “The manor.  But we’re gonna do things right this time.  The way we shoulda done it before,” Wolf replied.  “We’re gonna go back to Archie’s manor and we’re gonna make sure he regrets every bit o’ hell that he’s put us through.”

            That he put Corona through.

            “Where to, Boss?” Pigma asked him.

            “You said you know a guy?  Then let’s start there.  Once we get there and get some rest, we can form a plan,” Wolf ordered.  Pigma nodded with a cheeky grin.  He boosted the skipper forward, towards the far away skyscrapers that marked the decaying capital city.

            And hopefully by the time the sun sets tonight, Archie will be six fucking feet under.

Chapter Text

            The disquiet that fell upon them had the weight of their impending trials.  Below, the foothills to the bleak gray mountains vanished, giving way to the graveyard of industry and bygone ages of production.  Wolf stared out the window, reminiscing silently over how just hours ago, they had flown over this same landscape in Archie’s helicopter.  Leon stood next to him, restlessly watching the windows for any signs of impending attacks as his hands worked to dab disinfectant ointment on Wolf’s damaged ear.  There was a ragged tear in it now but Wolf found himself rather apathetic about it.  His mind was working around their imminent fight with Archie.

            “Nothing,” Leon confirmed after a few moments of staring outside. “It is… odd.”

            “Hey, I ain’t complainin’!” Pigma retorted from the pilot’s chair.

            When Wolf peeled his gaze from the window, he looked to Andrew.  He caught the slight tremor in the simian’s hands, studying them for a few moments.  Andrew tried to stifle them by squeezing his palms together, interlacing his fingers in a despairing, prayer-like gesture.  But judging from his shaky breaths, Wolf could tell he was troubled or pained.  He glanced momentarily to the monkey’s leg, taking note of where he had been shot in their heist… and of the healing scratches on the monkey’s cheek.

            “Andrew,” Wolf said brusquely.  “What’s wrong?”

            “It’s… nothing,” Andrew shook his head, squeezing his hands together tighter.

            “Stop,” Wolf said so sharply that Leon took a step back. “What’s goin’ on?”

            “I just… I keep thinking about… that room…” Andrew said quietly.

            His lower lip trembled as he looked at Wolf.  Tears glistened over his eyes, giving them a pained shine. Wolf did not have to guess what room he was talking about.  Had it been any other day, Wolf might have thought to chide him, but as he looked for the words to use, he found himself coming up with nothing.  What came out instead was a sigh and a nod.

“I used to think I saw awful things in the Lylat Wars… but that…” Andrew’s voice broke for a moment.  “… that was awful.”

            “We kill Archie and we put an end to that,” Wolf said, walking over to Andrew.  His palm clapped the simian on the shoulder.  Andrew’s head bobbed up and down silently.  Though Wolf could feel Leon’s curious stare, he did not care to elaborate on what they had seen.  Instead, he returned to his seat and resumed looking outside.

            Corona had little air traffic at all but their dingy skipper seemed to melt in nicely with the dystopian backdrop.  Wolf watched their descent, the skipper dipping low below the rooftops of the abandoned buildings.  Sparse car traffic below made it easy to find an alleyway to park in.  Wolf could not help but chuckle at it all.  Fly a ship into a back alley on Eladard and no one thought twice about it.  Fly a ship anywhere near the buildings in Corneria City and the police would have you in jail before you could even blink.  When the engines turned off, the only light was a dangling street lamp at the corridor’s entrance. 

            He stepped out into the open air, smelling immediately the grime of Corona’s back alley labyrinth.  His nose wrinkled and a forceful gale coursed through his fur. The horizon had a murky, grim sea of pale grey clouds.  Wolf wondered if they would get rain again. 

            “Well, this is my stop,” Kevin Mouser declared as he hopped out of the ship.  He had wrapped his hand up in a strip of cloth he had torn from his shirt, dabbing it with ointment they had found in a first aid kit on the skipper.

            “Not gonna get your revenge, huh?” Wolf quirked a brow at the rodent.

            “Ehehe, not really my cuppa tea,” the mouse replied. “Besides, I’m down my best hand an’ I don’t got no laser sword to whack thugs with anymore.  Figure I’d just slow ya boys down.”

            “Whatever suits ya,” Wolf replied with a shrug.

            “Well, see ya around,” Kevin grinned and slipped away down the alley.

            “That guy was weird,” Lenny said as soon as the rodent vanished and Wolf nodded in agreement.

            “This way,” Leon beckoned.

            They followed the chameleon down the alleyway, passing by a large warehouse that seemed to have been abandoned.  A single lantern hung near its back door, its light flickering.  The path behind the warehouse turned from black asphalt to crumbled rocks over a grey-brown layer of dirt. 

            “Where are we going?” Wolf asked.

            “After we got separated, we made some allies in Corona.  They saved us from Archie’s men,” Leon explained quietly, eyes shiftily looking about.  “Not all are in favor of the Baron’s way of ruling.”

            The unkempt trail led into some unruly tall blades of grass.  They were unhealthy patches, clinging onto whatever moisture they could find.  Though the ground around them was dead and gray, they sported a pale green hue.  Life, it seemed, found a way even in the dreariest of places.  Not that it mattered for long; as soon as Wolf had finished admiring the small bits of life that existed, Pigma’s hulking foot crashed down upon the nearest patch of grass.  He obliviously trundled forward, scratching his rump.  Wolf shook his head and pressed on.

            A drab wooden fence soon stood before them, its gate defenseless.  The thought gave Wolf a shiver but he supposed trying to defend against theft was a futile effort in Corona.  The people that wanted to commit crime had the guns to do it and it was not like Corona even had a market for home defense these days.  Most of the high tech had left when the Cornerians had.

            Leon pulled the latch back and nudged the door open with his foot.  A cobblestone path greeted them and Wolf cast the lizard an inquiring look.  Leon held the door long enough for Wolf to grab onto it then proceeded forward until the path clearly spilled into a backyard.  Wolf immediately tensed, wondering if they were trespassing.  Before he could ask, the back door opened and he grabbed for his stolen gun. 

            Out came a sugar glider, her lower jaw hanging open with shock.  She was a slender creature overall but her arms were clearly muscled.  Donned in a ragged pair of overalls and a pink t-shirt, she looked similar to every other Eladardian in the capital—covered in bits of dirt and clearly capable of manual labor. 

            “Stop,” Leon said to him softly, holding out an arm across Wolf’s torso. “She’s a friend.”

            “Candy Kajben,” Lenny said in surprise.

            “You’re back,” the sugar glider said with wide eyes.  “Lenny?”

            “You know her?” Wolf asked.

            “Yeah, I sell off scraps to her every so often,” the croc replied.  Wolf took note of how he had put the necklace around his nape.  The speckled gem at the heart of the pendant seemed to glimmer with extra zeal.  “She’s a good ‘un.  Not one of Archie’s thugs or spies.”

            “She helped us before,” Leon confirmed, looking to Wolf then to Candy. “We are in need of shelter for a short while.  Can we find that here?”

            “I don’t mind it and Pops is out at the grocery store anyways,” Candy replied.  “Come in, I can get ya somethin’ to eat too.”

            “We’d appreciate that,” Wolf said, feeling his stomach growl.

            The Kajben residence was as humble as they came.  It was a two-story building, with the rooms stacked neatly and tightly on top of each other.  The back door fed directly into the living area.  A dusty fireplace sat untouched at the far wall, adjacent to a TV that was playing some soap opera rerun featuring a dramatic mongoose and a devilish snake.  Inside smelled of vanilla and lavender, no doubt due to the candle burning on the countertop.  The table was presently occupied by some sort of ship model that it looked like was being tinkered on.

            “So I take it things went pretty well for you!” Candy said with a smile as she busied herself in the nearby kitchen. “Seein’ as you came back with friends an’ all.”

            “I’d say so,” Pigma shrugged.

            “I haven’t… haven’t heard anything about the Baron…” She added in pointedly.

            “Unfortunately, he yet lives,” Leon said sourly.

            “But not for much longer,” Wolf added.  He caught her curious look.  Arms folded, the canine finished, “We plan to change that tonight.”

            Candy looked him up and down then remarked, “You do look like you fit the bill for someone who could pull somethin’ like that off.  But you’re not the first ones to have tried.”

            The way her teal eyes fell back onto her tasks was telling, as well as the drop in her tone.  He watched her work for a few moments, watched her lips purse tight.  The corners of her mouth turned to a stifled frown, one that often came before tears.  He did not have to ask what happened.  Her expression, the grim streets, Archie’s madness—it all told a gruesome, bitter story that he did not want to hear in full. 

            “We’re trained mercenaries.  We’re a bit more prepared than unhappy city folk,” Wolf replied.

            “I hope so,” Candy responded quietly.

            Wolf left her to her work.  He found Lenny in the living room, spreading out a city map for the other three to look over.  One of his clawed fingers was gesturing to a specific part of the city when he took note of Wolf wandering over.  Wolf cocked his head to the side as he looked down at the map.  It was hard to grasp where they had landed.  The city had both changed and had stayed the same since he had been exiled.  He assumed they were somewhere to the east of Lenny’s shop—and by quite a ways, too.

            “When it comes to fightin’, I’m barely any good,” Lenny said.  “I’d rather leave it to the ones who know what they’re doin’.  In the meantime, I can be gettin’ what I need to repair your ship and get you outta here that much faster.”

            “At your shop?  It’ll be dangerous to return there.  We went back after you got nabbed and it was crawlin’ with Archie’s men,” Wolf shook his head.

            “They’ll look there, aye, but as soon as anyone hears that you’re at Archie’s manor, he’ll pull whatever men he can back to defend himself,” Lenny nodded. “Remember, Wolf.  Yer the one who took out Klaus Ursus.  He was Archie’s match in every way.  He knows it an’ he’s scared to piss about it.  Why else ya think he hid on a goddamn hoverin’ platform durin’ his little hunt game?  He didn’t do it on any coincidence.  He’s scared.”

            “Cornered beasts are the most dangerous,” Leon said warily from where he sat next to the croc. “We should prepare for any traps or ambushes he may have in store.”

            “The faster we strike, the less time we give him to prepare,” Wolf pointed out.

            “We’re perilously low on supplies ourselves,” Leon replied. “My rifle was… lost in the fight.  I have only my knives now.  And Pigma has depleted every grenade he brought with him.”

            “Sadly,” Pigma chimed in. “I got my blaster, though.”

            “We nabbed a few weapons in the Arena but they’re definitely not top notch,” Wolf remarked, rubbing his chin. “Guess he took my blaster when he knocked me out.”

            “There’s arms dealers in town, we can get ya some weapons there,” Lenny said. “It won’t be like anythin’ ya got from yer last employer, but it’ll be fine enough in the right hands, I reckon.”

            “Right,” Wolf nodded.

            “Some new attire may be in order,” Leon pointed out, looking Wolf over.  The canine flitted an ear back.  His uniform was splashed in mud and blood in places, torn at the collar and sporting holes near his knees.  “I can get to work on that and the weapons.”

            “That’s a tall order for one person,” Wolf began.

            “Eh, I’ll go with ‘em,” Pigma shrugged.  “To help carry all the shit we’re probably gonna buy.  Or take forcefully.”

            “You both have not had the chance to rest, as we have,” Leon added.  “Let us handle this part.”

            Wolf looked between the two, his eye narrowing.  Was it just his imagination, or were they actually cooperating?  He rubbed the bridge of his snout, fingertips massaging their way to his forehead.  His body ached—his ear especially.  Perhaps taking it easy for a few hours would be the most beneficial…

            “Sure.  Okay.  I’ll allow that, I guess,” Wolf sighed.

            “Here,” Candy said, emerging with a small platter.  In the center was a stack of small sandwiches, each with a slab of meat, cheese, and lettuce.  She set the tray down next to them. “I’m not really a cook, so I just live off sandwiches.  Figure y’all weren’t in the mood to complain what I gave ya.”

            “I’d eat a rock at this rate,” Andrew said with more than a little bit of a whine in his voice as he grabbed a sandwich and shoved it entirely into his mouth in one fluid motion.

            “Make sure ya chew it,” Candy chuckled then unceremoniously tossed an unopened back of corn chips at them. “And here’s this, ‘cause I know boys eat a bunch.”

            “I’d ask how we could repay you, but I s’pose gettin’ rid of Archie will do,” Wolf remarked smartly then grabbed a small sandwich for himself.

            “We parked the skipper near yer warehouse,” Pigma added. “If ya want it back… er, kinda crunched its nose…”

            “Erm… no thank you,” Candy shook her head. “Besides, you’ll need a way to the manor, right?  Unless ya got something else ya could fly?”

            “Unfortunately, our usual ships are at the hangar.  Probably being used as bait,” Wolf shook his head. “We… appreciate it, Candy.  We’ll return it after if there’s much left to return.”

            “Yer not gonna have me auto pilot another ship into the mansion, are ya?” Pigma asked fearfully.

            “I don’t think that trick is gonna work twice,” Wolf remarked.

            Candy does have a point.  We’ll need to get to the manor somehow and I don’t think the stealthy approach is gonna work.  We were able to send one of Lenny’s old scrapping ships last time but we only have this old farming skipper and it doesn’t even have guns.  I don’t think we have the time or the funds to install anything either. 

            After they had each eaten their fill, Leon and Pigma vanished to go gather supplies.  Wolf sat between Andrew and Lenny on the floor, looking over the Coronan map.  He rubbed his snout with the back of his hand, eyeing the gap between the manor and the edge of the downtown metro area.  It was true that they would need a different approach than last time.  The real gamble was if Archie suspected they would return or not.  If he did suspect it, the manor would be more fortified than normal.  If he did not?  Then perhaps the streets would be crawling with his thugs.  That would make the assault at the manor easier but getting to the manor that much more difficult. 

            A distraction at a certain point in the city would be helpful.  But I’d hate to split the gang up again.  It didn’t work too good last time.  I wouldn’t think it’d work well the second time. 

            “Whatcha thinkin’?” Lenny’s voice interrupted his thoughts.  “Ya got that look in your eyes… er… eye… my bad.”

            Wolf’s left ear flitted to the side and he scowled at the croc.  With the shake of his head, he grumbled, “I need a smoke and about a week to think this one through.”

            “We’re all outta both,” Lenny remarked.

            “That’s the damn problem, isn’t it,” Wolf said with a bitter chuckle. “No matter what way we look at this, without our Wolfens, without some form of support or distraction, I don’t see us doing anything but shoot our way in.”

            “We could ask around,” Lenny suggested quietly. “Might be some folks willin’ to risk it and help out.”

            “I’m not gonna ask that of anybody,” Wolf shook his head.

            “You don’t got much faith in people,” Lenny commented, giving him a hard look.

            “Look at where any amount of faith has got me,” Wolf retorted. “Besides, Star Wolf can’t be relying on other people to do the job for ‘em.”

            “Hah.  Right.  Star Wolf,” Lenny rolled his eyes. “Listen, Wolf, don’t go throwing your life away on a suicide mission because you won’t ask for help.”

            “I’m not,” Wolf growled. “Just let me handle this, Lenny.”

            The old croc stared at him for a few long moments.  Wolf saw his pupils flit about his face, scrutinizing every bit of him.  He could feel his old boss’s thoughts churn and boil—stewing on what words to say next.  Whatever they were, he knew they would sting.

            “I remember when they plopped you, Tala, an’ Ralph on my doorstep, y’know.”

            “Stop,” Wolf’s voice deepened with another growl. “I’m not here to go down some happy little memory lane with you.”

            “It wasn’t happy.  How could it have been?” Lenny scowled at him. “You were orphan whelps without parents and the Cornerians didn’t want ya in their streets.  So they dropped ya off here, figured ya would join the working force or starve.  And ya worked.  And ya worked damn good, Wolf.  But life was never fair and it never stopped throwin’ its curveballs at ya.  Stars fuckin’ know ya fought and ya killed and ya did whatever ya could…”

            “Yer makin’ an awfully big deal about some revenge mission ya don’t even wanna be involved with,” Wolf bristled.

            The old crocodile’s face fell, his words sizzling away.  He shook his head, long mouth drawn into a frown. 

            “I just don’t want ya to get hurt,” Lenny admitted. “Ya’ve had a rough life, Wolf, I just want ya to be happy.  And I don’t know that killin’ Archie is the answer but I know yer heart is set on it.  Might as well make sure ya get to live to see what a world could be like without ‘im.”  He gave a tiny little pause, then added, “And I really can’t thank ya enough about the necklace.”

            Wolf felt the muscles in his face lax.  He looked away from the croc, drawing in a deep breath and folding his arms across his chest.

            “I know you’re only thinkin’ of what’s best,” Wolf grumbled. “But, Lenny, I’m not the wide-eyed kid that you smuggled off of Eladard.  I’m…” A pirate.  A scoundrel.  A criminal.  A traitor to the Cornerian Empire.  Take your fuckin’ pick. “… I can handle this.  Just let me.”

            “If you say so,” Lenny sighed. “I guess I better figure out what I’m gonna do about getting’ back to my shop.  I have a feelin’ I’m gonna need Candy’s help with that.”

            “Wait until after we’re at the manor, if you need to.  We can draw his attention away,” Wolf said quietly. “And then ya won’t have to worry about gettin’ shot in your own home.”

            He stood up and stretched, realizing Andrew had been quiet during their heated exchange.

            “Andrew, ya got any input for—” Wolf said as he turned to look over his shoulder at the monkey.  The white-furred ape had curled up on the couch and was fast asleep.  Wolf sighed.  Maybe it was best to let him rest—they had been through a lot over the last few hours. 

            Lenny decided to make use of the shower the Kajben family had and Wolf took his leave out the back door.  He sat in a chair off of the back porch, looking out at a broken swingset that sat rusted over by the elements.  Instinctively, he patted down his pocket for a cigarette but found it empty.  Wolf frowned and closed his eye, leaning back.

            We could approach overhead, by the skipper.  Maybe they won’t have their generator back up after last time.  They could’ve have repaired the fence already.  Maybe put up some temporary barrier where that part of the fence oughta be...

            He thought again about dropping in from the skies.  Pigma could take the skipper away, buy them some time as a distraction.  But that felt too risky.  What were they supposed to do, shoot their way in?  Despite already lightening Archie’s payroll list, they were still vastly outnumbered.

            If we can’t use the skies and we can’t use the land… then what’s left?  Underground?

            His heart nearly stopped, ears peeling back.  The answer was obvious… or was it?  He scrambled up from the chair, grabbing the door handle and throwing it wide with such a force that Andrew jerked upright with wide, bloodshot eyes.  Lenny sat in a nearby recliner, his attention swiftly brought from the newspaper in his hands to Wolf’s loud intrusion.  Candy poked her head into the room to see what was going on.

            “Lenny.  Do you have a map of the sewage system?” Wolf asked the croc.

            “Why the hell would I have one o’ those?” Lenny asked with a severe glare to the canine.

            “Candy?” Wolf asked, looking to the sugar glider.

            “Er… not exactly an item most people would have around their house,” Candy said with a sheepish smile. 

            “There’s a network of tunnels beneath the city.  We used them to escape the factory,” Wolf said. “If we could find out if one of the tunnels leads to the manor or even somewhere nearby, we could use that to make a stealthy approach.”

            “Not a bad idea, if you ignore the fact that those tunnels have been housin’ all sorts o’ degenerates over the last decade or so,” Lenny remarked. “That… bein’ said, I know I’ve seen a big pipe pokin’ outta the ground just east of the manor.  It’s in some o’ those hills, tucked in outta sight.  I’d reckon you could get there from downtown.  Shit, I mean they have to have some sort of pipeline underground too.  Maybe the one from the city extends to his mansion?  But the question is figurin’ out the right path.”

            Wolf scratched his chin. “If we had some sort of way to detect energy, Archie’s manor would stand out like a beacon.”

            “Energy?” Lenny quirked a brow.

            “A base like that has to show up on an energy grid.  It’s fortified by an electric fence and it’s big and isolated.  If there was a way we could see it, we could maybe work our way through the tunnels towards it,” Wolf explained quickly. “All we’d need is a way to see it.”

            “And where ya gonna find somethin’ like that?” Lenny asked.

            “Um, I have one,” Candy piped up and Wolf’s head swiveled in her direction.  She sidled out into the open from the adjacent room. “I use it sometimes when I go lookin’ for wreckages near Meteo.  Sometimes you’ll find abandoned ships out there, left ‘cause people realized they can’t navigate the asteroid field.  They usually escape pod back to Corneria.  It doesn’t really detect electricity, though… it detects fuel cells.”

            “Oh,” Wolf frowned.

            “That platform thingie,” Andrew mumbled, rubbing his eyes still. “And the helicopter.  One of them might use fuel cells.”

            “The platform was at the Grounds.  The helicopter, on the other hand, could be exactly what we need,” Wolf scratched his chin.  “I don’t s’ppose you’d let us borrow it for a bit?”

            “I maybe could part with it but I expect it back in my hands by the time you’re done saving us all,” Candy said firmly.

            Saving you all, huh?  Doesn’t seem like the sort of job you’d expect a group like Star Wolf to take.  But I guess now that the Lylat Wars are done, we’re free to take whatever jobs we want.

            There was a sense of freedom in that, even if losing the war meant that any Cornerian-sponsored planet would fire at them on sight. 

            “Sounds like a deal,” Wolf replied with a shrug.  He fumbled and paused for a moment, realizing he probably should sound a tad more appreciative. “Thanks for being supportive to the cause.”

            “I’ll go grab it,” Candy said with a small smile and a flirty wink, ducking out of the hall.  When her footsteps had retreated to the backmost rooms of the humble abode, Lenny turned to look square at Wolf.

            “I think she likes you,” the croc remarked.

            The corners of the canine’s mouth creased into a scowl at the portly scrapper.

            “I don’t think she’s my type.”

            “Shame,” Lenny shrugged but held a telltale smirk about his lengthy snout.

            Candy returned with the device tucked under an arm.  It was a metallic box with a screen in its center, along with a few knobs and buttons that Wolf assumed helped narrow down fuel cell signals.  It had two jagged prongs on its top that appeared to be some sort of signal receiver.  She sat it on the counter. 

            “It’s all charged up, just grab it whenever you’re ready,” Candy said.

            “Thanks,” Wolf nodded to her.

            An hour or two passed before Pigma and Leon returned, their arms loaded with various weapons cases and plastic bags.  Wire hangars protruded from the flimsy bags and Wolf could see a drab mountain of tan cloth in one of the sacks.  Wolf offered to give them a hand but Leon blocked him from the door. 

            “That is everything,” the lizard said, gesturing to the impossibly high stack of newly purchased items in Pigma’s arms.  The swine seemed to have no issues toting around the bags.  He set them down on three of the chairs near the dinner table.  Candy quirked a brow at him, clearly impressed.

            “How the hell did you pay for all of this?” was the first question Wolf asked as Leon popped open the lid to the first weapon case.

            “I know people,” Pigma shrugged. “And those people know other people.  We explained the situation and they’re lending us some arms.”

            “What’s the catch?” Wolf asked suspiciously.

            “Kill Archie,” Pigma replied nonchalantly.  His pale gaze fell upon Wolf, a cheeky grin forming on his plump features. “I’m serious.  If we fuck it up, they’ll kill us.  Provided we aren’t already dead…”

            “Easy enough,” Wolf frowned. “But I don’t get it.  If they have all of this, why can’t they do it themselves?”

            “No one knows who to trust in this city.  So they don’t dare hire assassins.  Could be spies for Archie,” Leon said, pulling out a sleek black sniper rifle.

Its body was angular and narrow, save for its single barrel.  It jutted out quite a ways and was capped with a small hole.  Whatever shots it fired were small and precise—that much Wolf could tell at a glance.  Reverence took over Leon’s demeanor as he lifted the weapon’s scope to his eye.  A giddy chill consumed his lithe form, his pointed teeth bared in a gleeful, uncharacteristic smile.  He leaned the lengthy weapon against his shoulder, caressing its underside with his palm.  One of his fingers found its mark, a small unseen switch.  He flicked it and two rods popped out—forming a small triangle with the gun at the top point.  Leon set it on the table, marveling at it for a few moments.

            Like a kid at the candy store.

            Wolf looked over the gun, eyes skirting across the logo emblazoned upon the rifle’s butt. It was a snarling lion—the same as the gun he had used in the Grounds.  Wolf tilted his head to the side, drumming his pointer finger across his muzzle in thought.

            “Lionheart Corps,” Wolf remarked, cocking his head. “I feel like I keep seeing that name crop up more and more these days.”

            “Heh.  They’re getting more popular ‘round here, that’s fer sure,” Pigma remarked.

            “We got you something too,” Leon said, pulling another case out. “Several somethings.”

            The lizard handed the case to Wolf.  He wrapped both arms around it, gingerly lowering it to the floor.  He set it down with a soft “thump”, then snapped open the two clasps keeping it shut.  When his eye fell upon it, he gave a small start, ears peeling back.  Though the gun had the same angular design as the sniper rifle, it was much smaller and more portable.  It had twin barrels and reminded him of his old Macbethian gun.  When he picked it up, he tested its weight, feeling how light it sat in his hand.  He scanned the blaster over, spying the Lionheart symbol once more.  Beneath it in smaller letters read “SAGITTA”. 

            “It’ll do,” Wolf remarked.  He looked over to where Pigma was showing Andrew his new gun—a smaller version of Wolf’s with a single barrel.

            “That’s not all,” Leon smirked then grabbed one of the plastic sacks.

            The assassin tugged one of the hangars free, producing a lengthy bland beige poncho.  Its shade reminded him of the wastelands beyond Corona’s city limits.  It would be ideal for blending into their surroundings.  His gaze moved from the poncho to Leon, giving a silent nod of approval.  Leon’s grin widened and he went digging through the bags suddenly, as if looking for something in particular.  When he paused, he drew his eyes up towards Wolf for a few moments, gradually pulling the small item out.  Wolf quirked a brow.  Leon pulled forth a small black eyepatch, cradling it in his scaly palm for a second before extending his arm to Wolf.

            “You didn’t have to do that,” Wolf began but accepted the eyepatch all the same.

            “It is better than what you are wearing now.  A mere strip of cloth,” Leon shook his head.

            The left corner of his mouth drew up in a bitter smile as he looked it over.  He fumbled with the strip of cloth around his head, pulling the knot out after some difficulty.  Though he felt prying gazes upon him as the makeshift eyepatch came off, he brushed it off with a stern expression.  His maimed eye felt the cold of exposure for a few precious seconds before the new eyepatch came on.  Wolf fastened it and then looked to the lizard.

            “How’s it look?”

            Maybe it was the trick of the light but Wolf could have sworn he saw the scales near Leon’s cheeks flush slightly pinker. The lizard nodded, giving him an awkward thumbs up.

            “You look great.”  Something about his tone was a tad shaky, like he was unused to dealing out compliments.  But his expression seemed sincere so Wolf accepted it with a nod.

            “Did you get us something to wear under the ponchos?” Andrew asked.

            “We gotta wear them traditionally,” Pigma snickered.

            “What does that even mean?” Andrew said, sounding mildly worried.

            “Yes, Andrew, we bought clothes to wear under the ponchos,” Leon said, giving Pigma a tired glare.  “Do we have a plan?”

            “Yes,” Wolf said. “We’ll need to make it to the edge of city limits and find a way back into the tunnel system.”

            “An underground approach,” Leon said thoughtfully. “An interesting idea.  He will not suspect that, I think.”

            “Even if we can’t get in from the tunnels, we can still get close.  Close enough to assess how much they’ve made their repairs and go from there,” Wolf said firmly.

            “I did get more grenades,” Pigma grinned. “Could make them need even more repairs by the time we’re done.”

            “Whatever it takes to kill Archie,” Wolf replied. “That’s all I care about.  Everyone should start getting suited up and ready to go.  The quicker we get this done, the better.”

            Wolf took the clothes Leon had picked out for him to the bathroom to get changed.  He swapped his scraped up uniform for a set of black pants, dark steel metallic combat boots, and a black long-sleeved shirt.  Leon had given each of them sets of armor plates as well.  Wolf drummed his knuckles over the first plate gently, feeling how sturdy they were.  They were Macbeth-mined, he knew at once from its tone and the way it had been forged.  There were small spikes on each pieces, mostly for any close-range enemies who wanted to try to land a punch.  He strapped the plates onto his shoulders and forearms then donned his black gloves.  Wolf balled his hands into fists, feeling the fabric flex.  Finger holes had been cut out so he could use his claws.  The canine stretched a few times in his new attire, feeling the way it clung to him.  It was not uncomfortable but it was evident Leon had picked some tighter feeling clothes than what he was used to.

            Wolf checked himself in the mirror then strolled out to check on his team.  Pigma had swapped clothes already though his body was mostly shrouded by his poncho.  Andrew was in a different bathroom presumably and Leon was sitting at the table, eyeing Wolf up and down with immense scrutiny.

            “I’m not sure where you got all of this,” Wolf remarked. “But I could get used to certain bits.” He poked at the cluster of spikes on his forearm guards.

            “Me too,” Leon nodded. “It… looks comfortable.”

            “Comfy enough,” Wolf shrugged.  “Go get changed.”

            Leon disappeared into the bathroom and Wolf strolled towards the window.  Clouds had grown together in clumps overhead, blanketing most of the heavens.  But every so often, a bit of sunlight would peek through.  It was late in the afternoon.  The sun would soon set in the distant horizon, leaving Corona in the dark while its fate was decided in the language of blood and fire.  Though there had been many breaths before the storm, Wolf knew somehow this one was different.  He was not a man of destiny but he felt destiny beckoning with an unheard voice.  Only he or Archie would see the sun rise again.  That much he knew with absolute certainty.

Chapter Text

            It became clear not long after they departed the Kajben residence that marshal law had been invoked in Corona.  The wail of police sirens echoed through the decaying capital.  Once or twice, Wolf saw helicopters roam the skies, no doubt scanning what little air traffic existed in order to find their skipper.  He breathed a small sigh of relief that they had chosen to abandon the vehicle in the alleyway.  The gross streets with their clusters of buildings provided a far better cover than he could have realized.  Snaking their way through the back streets towards the edge of the city was no easy feat but Leon ensured their path was clear before they proceeded.  The nimble lizard would scale a small building (usually via the fire escape outside the building and some impressive parkour work) before giving the other three the signal to proceed.  It was a tedious process but it got them to where they needed to be before long. 

            As the buildings thinned and the wasteland beyond came more into view, Wolf knew it would soon be time to submerge into the depths below the city.  He found one of the sewer tunnel entrances situated behind a garbage dump.  Andrew complained about the smell with a simple glare and a pinch to his nose but the others did not seem to mind.  Or at least vocalize it.  Wolf pulled back the lid into the darkness below, turning on his flashlight.  He gave the ladder down a quick scan then descended.

            As soon as his boots hit the moist ground, he felt that rush of nostalgia he had long been combating since arriving on Eladard.  Leon landed next to him and he abruptly handed the chameleon his light.  He unhooked Candy’s scanner from his belt then activated it.  It immediately brimmed to life with various points of interest—most of them to the south, where the hangar was located.  Wolf adjusted one of the knobs to focus in on their current location.  Pigma and Andrew came down the ladder next, the latter closing the lid and shutting them into the infernal darkness.

            “Back at it again,” Pigma remarked.  Wolf could practically hear his smile.

            “Once we’re inside the manor, I’m gonna make a beeline for Archie,” Wolf informed them. “The sooner we take him out, the better.  Once his thugs see that he’s bit it, maybe they’ll scatter.”

            “Where do you think he’ll be?” Andrew asked.
            “He likes his theatrics,” Wolf remarked. “I’d imagine he’d be in his trophy room or somewhere near the roof.”

            “Dramatic,” Leon concurred with a nod.

            They walked in the darkness, Leon lighting their way with his flashlight.  Wolf held the screen in front of him, trying to make sense of their position and the radar.  It seemed intelligent enough to locate nearby walls and began to gradually construct a map of what was around them.  A small compass in the bottom right hand aided his sense of direction greatly as he quietly directed the team which way to go.  Perhaps it was his focus on the device but he felt a strange calm settle into his chest as they traversed the darkened tunnel.  It took him some time to realize that his nerves still did exist but they were buried under infinite layers of bitter resolve.

            Bleep.

            More fuel cells came into sight at the very rim of the scanner’s signal.  It was a cluster a mile and a half from the city’s walls.  There was little doubt in his mind that it was their destination. 

            “Do you really think they’ll retreat when we kill Archie?” Andrew asked.

            “They’re probably only around for the paycheck.  Most troops scatter like dust when you remove their main motive for fighting,” Leon pointed out.

            “Like what happened on Venom,” Pigma added and Wolf could almost feel Andrew bristle.

            He’s right.  I hate to admit it, but Pigma’s right.  But he’s clearly trying to stir shit up with Andrew.  And at a time like this.

            “Keep quiet.  I don’t want anyone gettin’ distracted,” Wolf snapped over his shoulder. 

            Much to his appreciation, his team actually heeded his order.  They walked in the uncanny silence and dark for some time.  Wolf’s eye flitted from their path ahead, illuminated by the flashlight, to the scanner’s screen back and forth at a dizzying pace.  They stopped for a small break at a fork in the road but even then, Wolf toggled the scanner’s settings so that they could get a sense of what was happening above them.  It looked like they were encroaching upon Archie’s manor and would be there soon. 

            “Soon” became an hour later.  Wolf let their pace slow only to conserve energy, though the concept of a stroll in the dank, smelly tunnel system did not even remotely resemble any form of relaxation.  He told himself to not worry too much about the next few hours.  Ever since the Cornerians had shoved him and his siblings to Eladard to keep them off their pristine streets, Wolf had known his life had been a war for survival.  This was just another battle.  One he hoped he would win.  One he was not entirely convinced he would. 

            Well, if this is the end of the line and we’re all marching to our deaths… there’s only two outcomes.  I kill Archie or it doesn’t become my problem anymore.

            He wanted to laugh at how apathetic he had become, how numb his nerves were to the fear.  But he couldn’t even muster one of his confident smirks.  Not even into the bleak darkness before them. 

            At the end of their path was a ladder, leading up to a hatch that had a small hole in its center to let light stream down in a single, almost holy beam.  Wolf did not believe in destiny but if he did, he would have thought it was an omen.  He glanced down at the scanner then back up again at the ladder.  Wordlessly, he beckoned the others to follow, hooking the scanner back onto his belt.  Through his fingerless gloves, the metal of the ladder was as cold as death.  He pulled himself up, towards the hatch above.  Leon’s flashlight followed him up to the top.  Wolf’s hand grabbed the handle and the lizard turned off the light so that it would not alert anyone on the other side.  Blaster drawn, Wolf slowly pushed upward.  The creak that resulted sent a shiver down his spine, propelling his muscles to fling the hatch open with reckless abandon.  Immediately, he pointed his blaster at whatever face might be peering down, trigger halfway squeezed…

            But there was nothing.  He gave pause for a few painstakingly long moments.  Nothing?  He had not expected that.  After a quick gander about the dusty room they had stumbled into, Wolf pulled himself out of the tunnel.  The hatch had been surrounded by crates for the most part—crates that bore various insignias from various trading companies. Judging from the cobwebs that clung to them, it looked like they had been sitting for a long time.  He glanced around the first one, noticing a set of pale wooden stairs leading upwards towards a door.

            Basement level.  And it looks like Archie doesn’t do shit with it. Perfect.

            He turned and helped Leon up.  Once the lizard was securely on his feet, he whipped out his rifle and began to scan the area.  Andrew and Pigma came up next and before Wolf knew it, they were all four huddled behind the stack of crates.  Ears swiveling, Wolf listened for anything that would indicate they were not alone.  Silence met him and cautiously, he stepped from behind the crates and walked towards the steps.  Since he had come to the basement, he had been acutely aware of a stale scent.  His violet eye wandered towards the corner of the room, just beneath the old wooden stairs.  A few dull white sticks jutted up from the dirt on the floor.  Sticks, that Wolf quickly realized as he drew closer, were really broken femurs and rib bones.

            “Charming,” Leon murmured.

            They climbed the stairs, the wood groaning like banshees beneath their feet.  Each step they climbed just reminded Wolf of how his body ached for a day of rest.  At the crest of the stairs, he grabbed the doorknob, pressing his ear to the door.  He could hear something shuffling on the other side—footsteps.  They moved in threes, in a way that reminded him of a dance.  Wolf drew his blaster up.  Whatever room they were about to spill into, he didn’t care—but footsteps on the other end meant that things were about to get hectic really fast.

            This is it.

            He twisted the doorknob and it resisted.  Brows arching in surprise, Wolf realized the knob was locked… and it was not from their side of the basement.  He tossed the other three a cautionary look, pointed his blaster down and promptly shot through the lock in a single fluid motion—sparing no time for regrets, no time for talking himself out of their goal.  Wolf echoed the move with a swift kick to the central flat of the door, making it swing wide on its hinges.

            At once, he realized they were in a kitchen.  The cook was a portly hippo who basically fell over in fear at the sight of the four bursting through the door.  His hand reached out for one of the carving knives hanging near the stove but Leon made sure he was dead before his fingertips even brushed its redwood handle.  An assistant ducked behind one of the counters with a terrified scream.  Pigma grabbed the wiry looking ferret by the neck and promptly chucked him into a nearby pantry, locking the door. 

            “The stairs should be outside of the dining area, to the left,” Wolf said.

            “What if he’s not there?” Andrew asked.

            “Then we keep looking until we find him,” Wolf replied.

            Through the kitchen doors, they found themselves in the dining area facing the back gardens.  Wolf felt a rush of déjà vu as he looked out across the large glass window.  It had just been a few days ago when they had been here last but it felt like it had been ages. 

            “Hey!” a dog yelled as he rose from one of the chairs to the lengthy dining table, a gun in hand.  Before he could fire, Wolf popped off two shots—both striking true in the chest.  The dog sank back into his chair.  Two others sat at the table—a leopard and an owl.  To the right, towards a couple of couches, Wolf could see there were at least three others.  Outnumbered—but only slightly.  Manageable odds, Wolf figured, as he braced for the next few minutes to succumb to sheer chaos.

            The ruffians fired and Star Wolf immediately dispersed from the doorway.  Wolf ran for the table, leaping above the high back of one of the chairs and landing on the table’s surface. As the leopard began to crawl onto the table, Wolf reached the central vase—one filled with particularly wilted roses—and promptly punted the vase at the thug’s ugly mug.  The blow struck true and as the thug howled in rage, his face littered with shards of ceramic clay and a hundred little cascades of blood.  Wolf started to fire at him but his friend grabbed his leg, pulling him to the ground.  Wolf kicked out, catching the owl in his lower jaw.  The owl fired next to Wolf, the laser shooting up just past Wolf’s body—so close that he could feel its heat as it zinged by and blazed through the ceiling. Wolf’s next kick took the owl out of his chair and Wolf pulled himself back onto the table, feeling its integrity weaken with a crack. 

            “WE GOT INTRUDERS IN THE DINING ROOM!” shouted the leopard into a radio in his hand.  His other hand was holding the right side of his face, blood streaming between his fingers.

            All of Archie’s men just heard that.  We’ll be overwhelmed in an instant if we don’t move.

            A quick glance told him that Andrew and Leon had dispatched some of the thugs hanging around the couches.  Leon was sporting a cut over his left eye and Andrew had crippled one of the thugs with a blow to the foot.

            “Fuck,” Wolf breathed. “Get to the stairs!  Leave ‘em!”

            The door into the next corridor was unoccupied save for one unfortunate guard that met his demise as soon as Wolf laid eyes on him.  In the distance, he could hear a variety of troubling noises—doors slamming open, the pounding of footsteps, shouts from where they had come from. 

            An intersection lay ahead and Wolf braced himself to be fired upon, his blaster at the ready.  Just a few yards from making it to the cross-section, he caught a glimpse of a handful of guards running their way.  They seemed equally surprised when they looked to their left and saw Star Wolf rushing towards them. 

            “Duck and close your eyes!” Pigma yelled and Wolf obeyed without second thought.

            The swine tossed a small sparking grenade at the guards.  When Wolf heard the bomb go off, he gave it a half-second before opening his eyes and opening fire into the cloud of smoke.  By the time it cleared, their opposition lay on the ground.  Wolf made a small hop over the bodies and kept moving, goaded by adrenaline. 

            The foyer’s glass windows showed the darkness outside, Corona’s glow banishing most of the stars.  The staircase with its ornate but dusty handrails did not match the splendor of the glasswork found in the foyer but perhaps years ago, it might have.  Wolf cast a glance towards the horizon before ascending, taking note of how the sky was a shade lighter than it ought to have been.  Day would come in a few hours.  Who would be there to herald it, Wolf wondered. 

            “Wolf, once we hit the second to top floor, we can hold them off,” Leon said as they climbed. “The three of us can manage.  We have enough ammunition; we just need a good choke point.”

            “As long as you promise none of you are gonna do anything stupid,” Wolf replied.

            “Like… what?” Leon asked.

            “Like die,” Wolf retorted.

            “We made good time getting to the stairs.  They probably still think we’re on the first floor,” Andrew said with a bit of a cheeky grin.

            “They won’t think that for long,” Wolf replied to him as they passed the second floor.  His calves were already burning but there were two more flights to go.  As the third floor came into view, his ears perked and he held up his hand. “Hold on.”

            As if on cue, a boar burst through the doors, holding a baseball bat in one hand and a pistol in the other.  With a crazed laugh, the boar swung the bat at Wolf.  It careened over the canine’s head, smashing into the window.  Wolf headbutted the guy, grabbing him by the collar and chucking him overhead and back down the stairs.  Pigma and Andrew ducked out of the way to let the boar tumble back down the entirety of the stairwell.  Two more guards came through the door but they were dispatched fairly quickly, with Pigma receiving a nasty burn on his forearm from one of the lasers.

            They passed the third floor and Wolf heard Leon stop running.  He looked back at his team, at where Pigma was already prepping a grenade to throw down the stairs the moment enemies came into view.  Andrew looked slightly bothered but he mustered a fanged grin nonetheless, holding his gun up at the ready.  Leon opened his mouth to say something to Wolf but nothing came out.  He closed it and merely gave his leader a simple nod, closing his eyes.

            “We’ll be here when you’re done,” promised the chameleon.

            “If I’m not back in ten,” Wolf said. “Assume I’m dead and finish it for me, Leon.”

            “Don’t… joke like that,” Leon replied. “Like I said. We’ll be here when you’re done.”  He pulled a knife out and handed it to Wolf.  It was a simple blade, about half the length of the canine’s forearm.  Wolf accepted it, flitting an ear to the side.

            “Return it, please,” Leon replied.

            “You think I’ll need this?” Wolf asked with a wry smirk, slipping it onto his belt.

            “No,” Leon answered. “But I like the reassurance.”

            Wolf gave a small humorless chuckle and nodded to the lizard before slipping through the door.  The fourth floor was eerily quiet when Wolf entered it.  No guards had been posted and the sound of any sort of combat seemed drowned out by the uncanny silence.  Painted portraits sat in the hallway.  Some were Cornerian dogs, their eyes ripped out by clawmarks and their smiles elongated by sloppy red paint with faint trails.  Was it really paint or blood?  He was not sure. 

            At the end of the hallway was another picture, this one a photograph of Archie and his brother that had obviously replaced a masterpiece in where it hung.  The sight of Klaus Ursus smiling in it made Wolf’s stomach turn and the back of his throat burn.  His mind cruelly crafted the image of the bear’s corpse laying in a puddle of rainwater and blood, swallowed by the dark cover of night.  Muzzle crinkled with latent rage, Wolf pushed past the photo, moving towards the door to the trophy room.  He grabbed the handle, gun at the ready.

            When he threw the door open, he expected to hear the piano music but there was only silence.  He aimed his blaster ahead of him.  The room was dark within save for the fire that crackled in the fireplace, illuminating the dead faces that had been posed about the room.  Their eyes were glazed over but somehow, he felt like they were watching him.  Rooting for him.  Craving their own revenge.

            A shadow was cast from the armchair, its back to him.  It faced the fire but he knew it was occupied.  A puff of cigar smoke emanated from its occupant.  Archie had always liked his cigars in the wee hours of the morning.  Klaus had too… and Wolf… but that was once.  Once a long time ago.

            “Archie.  Let’s end this,” Wolf said, taking a few more steps into the room.  “You know this can’t go on forever.  If I don’t put you down, the Cornerians will beat me to it, once they’ve realized what a mess you’ve made.”

            The shadow did not stir in the arm chair.  He took another step forward.

            “Don’t tell me you’re afraid, Archie.  That’s not very Baron-like of you.”

            Another step.  Distinct movement on his right told him that was a big mistake.  He turned to intercept the attacker, firing off a single shot. It did nothing but brighten up the room for a split second—fast enough so that he could only see the glint of fangs and spotted fur in the darkness.  Something hit his stomach and before he knew it, they were tumbling on the ground near the fire.  He kept a firm grip on his gun, knowing that losing that would mean he would lose everything.  He felt something press him down into the floor, a firm hand seizing his throat.

            “Nice try, O’Donnell,” hissed a gravelly female voice.  He looked up at his attacker.

            Zula.  Defending your boss until the end, I see.

            Her fangs glinted in the firelight and her knife jabbed down at him.  He moved his head out of the way, the blade sinking into the rug next to his cheek.  She snarled angrily and he awkwardly tried to point the gun at her from where he was pinned down.  He fired, the shot striking the ceiling.  Zula jumped, clearly not aware he still had his blaster.  She fell to his side, between him and the fire and he responded by giving her a swift kick towards the flames.  She screamed as her hindquarters were caressed by the searing heat and Wolf used the moment to stand up, pointing his gun at her for a split second before being dragged back down to the ground again by a swift kick from the hyena to his knee.  He landed painfully on his side, both hands on the gun with its butt pressed into his chest.  Zula clawed for the armchair, trying to rise to her feet.  Her knife was missing from her hands.  The hyena pulled a pistol out but Wolf fired first, the shot coursing cleanly through her side.  She crumpled to the ground, clutching her side.

            Wolf rose to his feet and made for the armchair, realizing that a series of pillows had been stacked onto it to give the illusion of a person sitting there.  A dimly-lit cigar sat on a tray propped up on the tallest pillow.  Snarling with rage, Wolf whipped around to look at the wounded Zula.

            “Where is he?!” he demanded.

            She did not respond.  Wolf stooped down to pick her up by the collar of her vest.  Her eyes snapped wide as he did so, widening even more when he brought her rounded snout to meet his.

            “Tell me!” He snarled at her, fangs bared.

            Her fearful gaze searched his single eye.  Zula’s turquoise fringe draped pathetically across her wide face, but even her dramatic bangs were not enough to hide her gaze moving from Wolf to the darkness to her right-- towards the figure of an elk that had been preserved and positioned in a rearing position.  Wolf traced her line of sight to the elk.  There was a glint of light.  He released Zula and dropped to the ground immediately, but it was too late.  An explosion coursed through the trophy room, its roar deafening and its touch sending both Wolf and Zula flying.  Wolf landed on his stomach yards away from the fireplace, the back of his head caressed by a faint breeze.

            He looked up.  Part of the wall had been blown away, revealing the brisk morning air.  The sun was a thin orange line on the horizon.  The stars were beginning to fade.  Archie’s trophy room was in shambles.  Bits and pieces of his trophies lay scattered about, dust settling on everything.  Zula lay a few feet away, unmoving with her eyes shut.

            “Agh…” Wolf spat out dust from his mouth.

            “Oh… did I miss?” Archie’s false naïve tone heralded his entry into the fray.  He stepped out from behind the elk.

            Pain coursing through his body, Wolf pushed himself to his feet.  His blaster had landed a few feet from him so he grabbed it quickly, training its barrel onto where the grizzly bear emerged from his hiding place.  A blaster was in one hand, a second explosive in the other.

            “Yeeeeeeeeeeep, just a little to the left and I’d have gotten it,” Archie tutted. “That’s a shame, really.”

            “So you’re finally showing yourself,” Wolf remarked, ears back. “Done lettin’ your cronies do everything for you?”

            “Oh Wolfie.  That’s not even nice,” Archie held a hand dramatically to his chest, as though Wolf had said something unthinkable.  “But you are right, I suppose.  I am quite… done, as you put it.  Done with this aaaaaaawful status quo.”

            He stepped forward, gun still trained on Wolf and vice versa.  He clipped the grenade back to his belt, giving a bit of a yawn as he did so.  With his now free hand, Archie picked up a skull, holding it up so that his fingers punctured through the eye sockets.  Wolf’s stomach did a flip.  The skull’s face was wider than that of a canine… and much larger.  Was it… a bear’s skull?

            Telltale signs in Archie’s haughty physique told Wolf that his guard had not lowered, not even despite his lazy steps forward. Wolf knew he could fire at any moment and Archie would respond equally as fast.  Wolf chose to bide his time for the right moment.

            “Hasn’t this become boring, Mr. Smiley?” Archie asked the skull softly, voice devolving into a childlike manner. “All day we sits in our chair and people bring us money and goods and our guards shit their pants on command when we tell them to.  BORING with a capital ‘B’!”

            And then, much softer, like a mother to its child, Archie added to the proclaimed Mr. Smiley, “It was more fun when you were around.”

            Even in the faint light, Wolf could see the bear’s facial features quite clearly. Darkness had eaten away at the area near Archie’s eyes.  His brow was set in a permanent crease of rage and worry.  The way his fur was matted and some parts seemed to be missing told Wolf that the ursine was ill—perhaps in more ways than he had initially realized.

            “I knew you were unhinged back in the day, but even this is disgusting for you.  What happened to you?” Wolf asked him with an incredulous shake of his head.

            Archie smiled, wiggling his fingers through the skull.  His smile cracked wider, broadening enough to show his pointed teeth.  His dark eyes flitted to Wolf.  A small laugh shook the hulking bear’s body, bloodshot eyes glistening with tears.

            “Why don’t you ask him?”

            Archibald Ursus fired, the skull dropping to the ground. Wolf dodged to the left, returning fire.  A faint transparent blue energy sprung forth from a bracelet around Archie’s wrist, forming a shield and blocking the shots perfectly.  With a thunderous snarl, the grizzly lunged at Wolf and Wolf quickly found himself backpedaling.

            He has a barrier?!  Fuck!

            The back of his heel met the thin air behind him, the cold of Eladard’s early morning wind whipping through his fur.  He spied a fire escape from the corner of his eye, guarded by a railing and a several yard leap.  As Archie ran towards him, Wolf knew he had no choice.  The bear fired and Wolf leapt for the fire escape, his hands catching the railing and hoisting himself over it.

            “I never knew life without him, you know!” Archie roared, reaching the massive opening in the wall. “He was always the one with a plan!  What was I supposed to do without him!?  Where was I supposed to go but here?!”

            I killed the only person keeping Archie’s madness locked up.  And then I ran for it.  It’s my fault Corona ended up the way it did.  It was always a shithole place to live but I made it worse when I shot Klaus Ursus that night. 

            It was another confession to himself that he knew he did not have time to regret.  What had happened all of those years ago could not be changed.  All of the lives Archie had taken in his grief could never come back. 

            Wolf fired but Archie ducked behind some of the remaining wall.  The canine climbed a few steps and Archie shot back, his sanguine laser cutting through one of the old escape steps. Wolf darted up a few more steps, hoping fervently it would draw the bear out.  Thankfully, it did—the raging bear leapt with surprisingly spryness to the fire escape, grabbing onto the rail with one hand and firing up at the canine with the other.  Wolf gasped as the shot tore past his ear.  He danced up a few more stairs nimbly, firing back down.  Archie took a blow to the top of his shoulder but the bear did not seem to even notice it.  He clicked his barrier back on and continued chasing Wolf until the escape reached the rooftop. 

            The roof was surprisingly flat and Wolf felt a small wave of relief at that.  He backed up to give himself room, noticing the very blatant lack of cover.  When Archie pulled himself onto the roof, he did so with some exertion, keeping his barrier up at all times.  He panted heavily, pointing his gun at Wolf.

            “When I’m done with you, Wolfie… I’m gonna turn you into the best towel to wipe my ass on.  And when I’m done with that, I think I’ll go pay my LOYAL SUBJECTS in Corona a PLEASANT LITTLE VISIT… what do you think, Wolfie?  What if I just… just tore down the Grounds? And made all of Corona my new hunting zone?  Oh, the people will love me.  Because they’ll love me or they’ll DIE!”

            Wolf ran a semi-circle to try to duck around Archie’s barrier but the bear strafed, following his moves.  Each one of Wolf’s shots struck the barrier and each one of Archie’s shots seemed to fly all around his mark.  Archie stopped to pant for a few more moments and Wolf took the time to land a few potshots on the barrier, watching it ripple about like waves tossing in the ocean.

            Need to outlast the barrier or destroy it.  He can’t keep it up forever.

            “You’re never gonna get the chance to do that, Archie,” Wolf said coldly.

            “Heh, we’ll see about that,” the bear’s hand went to the explosive at his side again.  From where Wolf could see, the bear still had two left.  “Or… one of us will!”

            Archie peeled his hand back with the explosive and launched it.  The nose of Wolf’s gun followed it up just a few feet in its trajectory, firing one single hopeful shot.  The explosive detonated and Wolf could hear Archie’s shrill shrieks like nails against a chalkboard.  By the time the smoke cleared in the wind, he could tell a few pieces of shrapnel had embedded their way into the ursine’s arm and the barrier flickered out of existence. 

            The right side of Wolf’s mouth curled up in a satisfied smirk—a fleeting sign of confidence that was quickly erased by Archie’s onslaught of shots.  Wolf forced himself to run but a well-timed shot blazed through his right arm as he did.  He watched the blaster fall from his own hands, gasping in both horror and pain.  Wolf did not feel himself slow down.  But he did feel the next shot that passed through his stomach, his eyes snapping wide as his knees collapsed beneath him. 

            Archie was on him in an instant, throwing aside his gun.  Gleeful, murderous laughter filled the air as the bear began to punch down at Wolf’s head.  The first blow was to Wolf’s left eye, knocking his eyepatch loose.  The second was to his jaw, sending a ringing in his ears. The third hit the roof next to Wolf’s head.  Between each punch was like a strobe light.  He saw brief pictures of Archie’s giddy expression, marred by flecks of blood splattered on his snout and cheeks.  Wolf tried to bob and weave between the punches, squirming and feeling pain ebb through him from his wounds.  He gasped, breath shivering as Archie howled out his laughter into the wee hours of the morning.  The bear was mad and the bear was winning but the bear had forgotten one thing that Wolf had not.

            One more explosive left.

            Wolf’s eye fell upon it in desperation.

            Fuck, if this is my last play… let’s make a good one.

            Wolf grabbed the explosive from Archie’s belt, tugging it free.  Archie paused for a moment, confused.  He could feel a button on the explosive—the way to activate it.  He had seen grenades made like this before on Macbeth.  They were usually sold to the military but somehow Archie had gotten his paws on a few.  Blood seeping down his face, Wolf cracked a smile at the bear.

            “No, wait!” Archie screamed.  He lunged for the explosive.  It fell from Wolf’s hand, clanging a few yards away down the roof.  Two seconds—and in those two seconds, Archie turned and looked at Wolf in sheer horror.  The eastern half of the roof exploded, sending both Wolf and Archie tumbling towards the western edge of the roof. 

            Archie rose, blood seeping down the side of his face.  He whirled around, looking at Wolf lying on the ground. 

            “Oh… oh you’ve… really done it this time, O’Donnell,” Archie said hoarsely.  Sanguine flowed from his wounds like rivers.  A piece of metal jutted from the back of his wrist. 

            Wolf gathered his feet beneath him and rose painfully, swaying back and forth.  Despite the laser cauterizing the wound as soon as it passed through him, moving about had ripped open what had been cauterized.  Blood dripped from Wolf’s stomach.  He held a hand to it, wincing.

            “It… it doesn’t matter… because even if you live to see me die… you won’t get a chance to celebrate it,” Archie growled.  His nice clothes were ripped and bloodstain.  His face seemed devoid of any sort of reasoning.  His gun was not in his hand but something else was—a small white device.  Purposefully, the bear held it up and clicked… but nothing seemed to happen.

            “What… what did you do?” Wolf panted.

            The bear smirked for a brief moment.

            “That’s… not for you to worry about… just yet! ”

            Archie’s roar shook the rooftop, striking a flicker of fear into the already scared Wolf O’Donnell.  The bear charged at him, needle-like claws poised to rip into his flesh like knives through molten butter.  Panic made Wolf reach for the knife Leon had given him.  He had almost forgotten it was there. 

            Archie reared back with a hand.  Wolf propelled himself forward with energy he did not know he had.  Leon’s blade found the bear’s stomach.  It was a familiar feeling, a sickening feeling, when he stabbed Archibald Ursus.  He drew the knife from Archie’s gut to his sternum, pulling it back out and promptly falling to a knee.  Wolf looked back in time to see Archie stagger backwards, blood all over his torso and his hands.  His eyes, wavering with horror, looked back at Wolf in sheer disbelief.

            “W-Wolfie…”  His mouth moved more, trying to form more words but nothing came out. 

            The bear stumbled back another foot, into open air.  He disappeared over the side of the roof.  A crash a few long seconds later confirmed his landing.

            Wolf crawled to the edge of the roof, looking down at where Archie had fallen onto a fountain in front of the manor.  His heavy body had crushed through the happy Cornerian family depicted in the center of the fountain.  Pale brown water coursed over him now, mixing with his blood.  The fountain’s base had begun to run red.

            It was done.  Archibald Ursus was dead.  Already his guards were starting to crowd around his body, looking up at Wolf several stories high.  Wolf scooted back, gasping as he did so.  Pained, the canine struggled to push himself upright.  His arms trembled, elbows collapsing as he tried to rise up from the rooftop.  It was no use.  He knew he had lost too much blood.

            This is it.  I did what I could.  Leon has his orders.  He’ll take care of the rest.

            He rolled onto his back, looking at the morning sky as the sun began to rise.  Each breath felt slower, harder to manage.  It was like his lungs were straining for air.  His fingers trembled and then lay still, resting against the cold of the rooftop.  Wolf’s eye went in and out of focus, staring at the heavens and then closing once unconsciousness took him.

            If the afterlife looked like the inside of a hospital room, then Wolf was sorely disappointed when he awoke.  An IV attached to his arm and bandages covering his shoulder, hurt arm, and torso, Wolf felt his heart rate immediately spike when he began to feel pain rack every inch of his body.  He gasped, pinning his ears back.  Movement to his right made him take notice of someone in a chair next to him.  His ears perked when he realized it was Andrew.

            “You’re awake!” the simian exclaimed at once, running to his side.  For a moment, he could see tears shimmer in the simian golden eyes, but they were quickly dismissed with his abrupt change in attitude. “Why the hell did you go and get your tail handed to you, huh?  You almost died!”

            “I’m not convinced I’m not dead,” Wolf remarked, stiffly adjusting his position.  His violet eye swept across the white room, taking note of the dirt and dust in the corners.  It was clearly not the nicest hospital.  “The hell am I?”

            “You’re at a hospital in Corona.  Pigma has some connections here, I guess, and we got you hooked up and stabilized here,” Andrew said. “You’re really not dead, Wolf, I promise.  You tried to leave us a few times, though.”

            “Ugh.  How long’s it been?” Wolf asked.

            “Three days,” Andrew replied sheepishly.  “Lenny wanted to be here but he’s been working on our carrier and the Wolfens.  He should be done sometime today, I think.  Pigma’s been helping him out too.  We made Leon go back to Lenny’s place to sleep.  He’d been here since you were admitted.”

            Somehow, Wolf was not surprised.

            “These people probably know we’re Star Wolf,” Wolf said apprehensively as one of the nurses walked by in the hallway.

            “They know we’re Star Wolf.  And we’re the people that just liberated Corona,” Andrew shook his head. “The Coronans, as soon as they found out Archie was dead, they stormed his manor and burned it all to the ground.  There’s talks about electing a mayor.”

            “How nice for them,” Wolf said with a small groan as he tried to sit up straight. “Don’t suppose we’re getting any cash for it.”

            “Actually, we are,” Andrew said excitedly. “There’s been donations coming in all over the place.  Most of them I think got put to your hospital bill, though…”

            “Figures,” Wolf sighed.

             They chatted for a short while.  Andrew sent a message to the others to let them know Wolf had woken up.  A nurse came in to check Wolf’s vitals and seemed to think he was recovering nicely before departing to give him and Andrew some privacy.  The skies outside indicated that it was mid-afternoon and Wolf leaned back against his fluffy pillow with half a mind to go back to sleep.  He did not, however, replaying his fight with Archie in his head over and over again. 

            Grief does horrible things to people.  It makes monsters out of us.

            “Andrew.  Are you still thinking about taking up where your uncle left off?” Wolf wondered aloud, looking out the window.

            Andrew looked taken aback.

            “I… hadn’t thought about it much these last few days,” the simian admitted. “But… I feel like it’s the right thing to do.  But maybe… now isn’t the time.”  He paused.  “I know you didn’t let me go back to Venom because you knew they’d kill me there.  The Cornerians invaded everything and they probably killed thousands of people there.”

            Wolf cracked a smirk and gave a bit of a cough.

            “When Andross put you on my team, I thought he was an idiot.  We would be going into dangerous territory, doin’ dangerous things.  But he thought you needed hands-on experience.  He thought it’d make you into the leader Venom would need someday,” Wolf replied. “I don’t really care for politics or shit, and you know that.  I didn’t really even believe in Venom’s cause.  I’m a merc.  I follow orders.  And the last order your uncle gave me was to make sure you made it out of the Lylat Wars alive.  One way or another.”

            Andrew’s eyes stretched wide.

             “I’ve done my job for the most part, I think.  Almost fucked it up a few times,” Wolf chuckled. “You can stay on the team and learn what you want from us.  Like your uncle wanted.  And when the time does become right, you’re free to go.”

            “Wolf… where’s this all coming from?” Andrew blinked in surprise.

            “I guess I brushed against death and it got me thinkin’,” Wolf shrugged then winced as he did so.  “I’m not goin’ soft on ya or anything.  But just… promise me you’re not gonna let your grief overcome you.  People that dwell on things like… there’s never a happy ending for those sorts.”

            “I promise,” Andrew said firmly, but his surprise was still evident in his eyes.  “Thanks, Wolf.”

             Andrew smiled.  He began to lean back in his chair but his communications device suddenly beeped.  Wolf cocked a brow at Andrew as the simian answered.

            “Hey, you get my message?”

            “Andrew.  We need to get Wolf out now.”  It was Leon’s voice and he sounded panicked.

            “Hold it over here,” Wolf said to Andrew and the monkey obliged.

            “Leon.  It’s Wolf.  What’s goin’ on?”

            “Wolf,” the lizard sounded relieved beyond words but his focus snapped back in at once. “Look outside.  Northbound.”

            Wolf pulled his IV container along with him as he hopped down from the hospital bed, clad in nothing but some white pants they had given him to cover his lower region.  He and Andrew gathered by the window and looked out towards the north.  They craned their necks to see what Leon was referring to.  There was something in the sky.

            “Oh no,” Andrew gasped.

            Wolf felt his heart sink all the way to the bottom of his gut.  A fleet of Cornerian Defense Force carriers had entered orbit and were approaching Corona, flanked by dozens of fighters on each side.  There was little doubt about why they were here.  Wolf rubbed his snout, covering his mouth with a hand as he tried to process what was happening.  He looked to Andrew’s communication device.

            “Leon.  Where’s Pigma?”

            “I… The hangar?  I don’t… I don’t know…”

            Wolf bit back a string of curses. 

            “Find him!  We gotta get outta here.”

            He made his move.  I wanted to believe he knew better than to try that shit.  I had needed him to help me square up against Archie and his army of thugs.  And I knew he was trouble.  I knew he had done shit with the weapons that he blamed on Andrew.  But I was so focused on the mission… I was hoping he’d be smarter than that.  Smarter than trying to screw us over when we all needed each other… but I guess that’s over now.  Archie’s dead, no bounty on our heads coming from him.  Now it just leaves us and the Cornerians… And with me out of the picture, it’s a good time to make a move.  Fuck.  I should’ve just killed him.  I should’ve just tried this with me, Andrew, and Leon.  We could’ve made it work.  But I was so sure… I was so sure it would work out…

            “Wolf?” Andrew asked.

            Wolf angrily pulled out his IV.  Although pain reared its ugly head as he moved, he tried to fight through it.  He looked up at Andrew, feeling his rage boil each word that came out next.

            “When I see that hog again, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

Chapter Text

            The hangar was not a short trip from the hospital but Wolf made it there in seemingly record time in a car that Andrew had driven over.  He did not dare ask where his crew had gotten the vehicle, knowing it probably had been parked conveniently nearby and had been ripe for the taking.  Wolf wheeled into the parking lot, skidding up to the curb and kicking the door open with such a force that he could hear the hinges creak.  A casual gander towards the parking lot and he saw Lenny’s beat to hell old truck, confirming the croc’s location.  He climbed out after grabbing his blaster, which Andrew had been kind enough to bring along with him, stalking towards the hangar.  Andrew scrambled after him.  They made it through the front door and saw the front gate guarding the personal vessels.

            He took note of the guard at the head of the security checkpoint—a young looking mutt that seemed confused if he should stop Wolf or let the angered man by.  He shuffled awkwardly up from behind a counter, holding up a paw.  Wolf’s hand grabbed the dog’s shoulder and he pushed him aside.

            “I killed the goddamn bear.  You owe me,” Wolf declared and the mutt shrank away, tail tucked between his legs.

            “Easy, Wolf, you’re still hurt!” Andrew said, jogging after his boss. “And I don’t think anyone’s gonna stop you.  It’s like I said before, people are—”

            “Happy?” Wolf asked, shooting the simian a glare. “They’re happy he’s dead?  Well, if they’re so happy, they can stop the Cornerians from landing on our fuckin’ heads.”

            Andrew fell quiet and Wolf pressed on.  The doors to the hangar slid open and he saw their carrier at the very back.  Even from the long distance between the door and the ship, Wolf could tell that Lenny was standing in front of the ship.  The duo made their way to the croc but by the time they reached the ending, Wolf’s breath was ragged.

            “Wolf,” Lenny looked surprised.  “What are you…”

            “The Cornerians are here,” Wolf said. “They must know.  They’ve sent a whole fleet.”

            “We know that,” Lenny sighed. “I got some of my ol’ buddies to repair your Wolfens.  They’re all ready to go… but your carrier still needs a little bit of work.  I’m hoping to have you fly-ready in an hour.”

            “We don’t have that kind of time,” Wolf replied with the shake of his head. “They’ll be touching down in minutes.”

            “What’s the commotion about?” a familiar voice rang out from beneath the carrier.  Wolf’s head snapped in its direction, feeling his hackles rise and his throat gargle with a dry growl. 

            Pigma came out from under the Venomian vessel, clad in black, stained overalls that clearly looked as though they had been borrowed from Lenny.  His eyes widened slightly at Wolf as he rose to his full height, dusting himself off.  There was a few droplets of oil on his girthy gut and some black powdery substance stained his left cheek. 

            “Wolf!  You’re on yer feet…”

            No words described the level of the canine’s rage.  Wolf could not even find it in himself to grant the swine a mere warning.  He walked towards the hog, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him back into the side of their carrier’s hull.  Pigma’s head slammed back into the hard metal.  His pale eyes seemed glazed over, dazed by the impact.  Wolf’s claws tightened through the fabric of Pigma’s shirt, ripping into it carelessly. 

            “Wolf!” Andrew yelped.

            “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” Wolf leaned into Pigma’s face, his hot breath washing over the hog’s terrified face. “You’ve been trying to undermine everything since we left Venom!”

            “W-what!?” Pigma stammered and Wolf shoved him harder into the side of the carrier.

            “We saw the communications log.  We know you were picking up Cornerian signals and communicatin’ with them.  And the guns you stole—the ones you tried to pin on Andrew!” Wolf snarled, thrashing Pigma’s head with each sentence.

            “S-stop… stop!  I can… I can explain!” the swine cried out.

            “Get to talkin’,” Wolf spat, shoving the hog aside.  He pulled his blaster out, aiming it at Pigma’s forehead. “Or you’re dead.”

            Pigma panted, grabbing at where Wolf had shredded part of his shirt with his claws.  His hand reached up to a few small scratches the canine had left near his collarbone.  Blood was gathering at the small wounds but Pigma did not seem to notice.  He trained his eyes on Wolf’s blaster, still bent over at the waist trying to catch his breath. 

            “The Cornerians…” he managed.  “I thought… I thought I could slip onto their communications… Listen in on their plans so we could evade ‘em… But they figured it out.  They figured out I was listenin’… So they tried to message me.  I didn’t open it.  But then another message came in… it was encrypted... I thought maybe… maybe it was someone from Venom…”

            Wolf’s ears pinned back against his head, muzzle wrinkled in disgust.  Lies.  This had to be lies.  Cleverly woven together lies that the swine had come up with in order to save his own hide.  He did not believe it.  He could not believe it.  Pigma was the man who had sold out his own wingmates, luring them in to be slaughtered.  He had betrayed before and Wolf knew he could do it again.  Traitors never changed.  Their loyalties were always to themselves. 

            “You know what, Pigma?” Wolf said, each word emphasized with the flash of his fangs. “I don’t think I believe you.” 

            “The guns!” Pigma yelped, holding up his hands. “The guns… I owed money, Wolf.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t think we’d need all of that gear.  We weren’t gonna fight a war, just do a simple job…”

            “Like hell we wouldn’t need that!” Wolf snapped.  His forefinger itched to fire upon the hog but something made him stop.  The answers did not satisfy him… but they did not entirely come without merit.  Had Leon bothered to check the Cornerian messages deep enough to even get a transcribed copy of what had been said? 

            “I knew… I knew it was wrong,” Pigma whimpered. “But I knew that we were gonna have more people on our tails than just Archie and those odds… we couldn’t win that way.  So I bit the bullet.  I gambled on a way to get us outta a bigger mess.”

            “Who did you owe money to?” Wolf demanded.

            “I… I don’t know.  I never met the guy, I just… I just knew his assistant.  It was a gazelle,” Pigma sputtered. “Her name… Her name’s Savanna Grant.  I don’t know who her boss was, I swear, Wolf!”

            “Enough of your whining!” Wolf snarled.  This was it.  He’d had enough of Pigma’s lies to last him a lifetime.  It was an overdue execution; one he had put off for too long.  “You can save it for James when I send you to see ‘im.” 
            “Wolf,” came a voice that broke through the canine’s blinding rage. 

            Wolf looked over his shoulder at Leon as the lizard approached.  His orange eyes were flitting between Wolf and the swine, studying the situation carefully.  He held up a hand, slowly resting it on the top of the canine’s blaster. 
            “He didn’t call the Cornerians.  Look at this.”

            The lizard held out a small device—cylindrical in shape and white with a small button on top.  Wolf recognized it at once.  Archie had been holding it during their fight.  The canine leaned in and realized it was a small homing beacon, used to contact authorities during distressing situations.  His ears went back.

            “I found this on the manor’s roof when I went to find you.  It’s a distress beacon,” Leon said to him. “The light… here.  Do you see it?  It was blinking red.  Someone activated it.  And now the Cornerians are coming.  That is no coincidence.”

            Wolf lowered his gun.  Of course.  Of course Archie had needed to have the last laugh.  Of course he had alerted the Cornerians.  He was the mayor by their records.  He had been under assault from Venomian refugees.  Of course they would come running if he sent out a distress signal.  Archie had known all along he would die when they got to that roof.  He had known Wolf would probably walk away from that fight alive… and the Cornerians?  The Cornerians would be right on Star Wolf’s tail.

            His anger reared its ugly head once more.  Sharp violet eye moving from Leon’s concerned face to the ground in front of him, Wolf felt his rage manifest into a single word.  Its sole syllable was lined with a growl of frustration.

            “Fuck.”

            “Pigma did something very wrong.  But he helped us.  Without him, you would have died in those Grounds.  And I would have died in the streets of Corona,” Leon said.  “Perhaps he has done wrong by selling our weapons.  But he did not do this.  And if we want to get off of Eladard in time, we will need his help.”

            Wolf hated it but Leon was right.  They had to focus on getting off of Eladard first.  He slung his blaster into its holster on his belt and he turned to Lenny and Andrew.  Fear and anger broiled in his chest with such a force that it felt overwhelming… but the hangar was still within.  Still with the breath of an incoming maelstrom. 

            “Let’s get this ship in the air,” Wolf declared in a thunderous voice.  “And let’s get the fuck outta here.”

            “They’ll search the whole city for us, right?  Maybe they won’t know we’re here?” Andrew suggested feebly.

            “Fat fuckin’ chance of that, kid,” Wolf retorted.  “Lenny!  What’s left to fix?”

            “Gotta make sure your fuel tanks aren’t leaking and that the left engine is ready to go,” Lenny said dutifully.

            “Pigma, handle the engine.  Lenny, work on the fuel tank.  Leon, help out where ya can,” Wolf commanded.  “Andrew, with me.  Let’s guard the doors.”

            Wolf carried himself towards the doors leading to the hangar with several long strides, pulling his blaster back out.  Andrew did the same, knees slightly bent to make his lanky appearance somewhat less of a target.  There were two doors to get into the hangar—the large door where the ships entered and exited and then a smaller door meant for people—the door already being guarded by security.  Wolf pointed his blaster straight at the mutt again, gesturing through the glass window that he would shoot if the guy so much as moved a hair.

            “If that big door starts moving, we get ready to fire and move back,” Wolf said to Andrew.

            “Do you think we’re gonna make it?” Andrew asked.

            No.

            “Yeah,” Wolf lied.

            If time moved, it moved like it was bathed in molasses.  Wolf stared at either doors with bated breath, his ears perked forward and his blaster at the ready.  He had been in a million fire fights but he knew that this one was the riskiest one he had ever done.  Everything was banking on this.

            The first guard came into view, decked out in combat gear and flanked by an entire squadron.  Wolf could see four of them through the glass of the door and feared there would be more.  Time was running out.  He knew he and Andrew could hold them off for a few precious moments but as soon as those moments had ticked their last, the Star Wolf team would be flooded by Cornerian forces and guaranteed their one-way ticket to prison.

            “Get ‘em,” he said to Andrew and they both opened fire.

            As the glass erupted into a myriad of shards, Wolf began to back up.  The first two guards were dead before they could return fire.  But as they fell, they opened up the hallway for more to take their place.  Wolf’s heart skipped a few beats and not in a good way.  Ears back, the canine began to backpedal.  The Cornerians shot back and Andrew was soon chasing after Wolf with panic written in his yellow eyes.

            “Get to the ship.  We can use the cannons if we have to!” Wolf yelled at the simian and they both began running.

            Pain from his fight with Archie tore through his body and Wolf could feel himself lagging behind Andrew.  A shot coursed past his ear and he heard the shouts of the Cornerian soldiers behind him.  They had burst through the door, infesting the hangar like ants upon an ill-fated picnic.

            At the end of the hangar, Leon, Lenny, and Pigma came into sight.  Their carrier’s engines were on, giving a steady rumble in the background of the mayhem. Lenny was covered in oil and Pigma had lowered the ramp so they could get on.  Leon glanced back over his shoulder, taking swift note of the fleeing Andrew and Wolf.  His carnelian eyes snapped wide in surprise and he ran up the ramp wordlessly.  Pigma’s jaw hung open as he looked from Wolf and Andrew to the Cornerians pursuing them. 

            “Get on!  Get on!” Wolf shouted. 

            Andrew made it to the ship first, nearly clipping shoulders with Pigma as he rushed up the ramp.  Lenny stood off to the side of the ramp, feigning panic.

            “Sweet Mother of Lylat, it’s Star Wolf!  After ‘em!  After ‘em!” Lenny said with such melodrama that Wolf almost smiled for a second.

            As Wolf passed the croc and rushed his way up the ramp, Lenny gave him a small wink and then continued his wailing.

            “Oh thank goodness, the Cornerians are here!  You’ve come to save me!”

            The ramp began to close and Wolf stopped for a moment to fire back a few times at the Cornerians.  When the ramp pulled its way back up and sealed Wolf inside, he felt himself breathe a sigh of relief.  They had made it through one mess at least.  But that wasn’t even the hard part. 

            Wolf looked towards the other three, who were gathered near the ramp.  Andrew bent over, trying to catch his breath.  Leon began towards the cannon controls and Pigma made a beeline for the cockpit.  Outside, Wolf’s keen ears could detect the shouts of the Cornerians, along with the sound of blasters being fired.  Although the Cornerian blasters would do little to the vessel’s hull, over time, they could eventually see to grounding the ship permanently.  Wolf knew they needed to get airborne and quickly.

            “Please tell me you fixed it,” Wolf said in exasperation.

            “Only one way to find out!” Pigma replied back over his shoulder. “I’ll get us through, don’t worry.”

            “Fine.  Leon, Andrew, we’re heading for the cannons.  Leon, take right, Andrew, take left.  I’ll take front,” Wolf barked down the metallic corridor. 

            He did not even wait to see if they obeyed.  Wolf went for the topmost cannons, down a hall, up some stairs and then climbing up a thin metallic ladder to reach the miniature cockpit. Their carrier was equipped with cannons on four sides with a smaller set able to be controlled in the cockpit.  The other cannons would have normally been manned by a bigger crew during combat, but the Star Wolf team had never been afforded a backup crew to help with their missions.  Another promise made by Andross that ultimately did not pan out. 

            Outside, the Cornerians were still firing away.  There were at least a dozen of them with guns pointed at them.  One cadet was talking to Lenny, who was pulling out all the stops in his acting.  The croc dramatically waved his arms about then pointed a clawed finger at their ship, fear evident in his eyes.  The cadet seemed to be nodding understandingly.  Wolf could only imagine what story the old scrapper was spinning.

             Wolf grabbed the top cannon control stick and swung them towards the hangar doors.  He gritted his teeth, throwing his aching back hard into the controls.  Fervently, he checked his aim… No.  Just shy.  The vessel was turned too sideways to make the shot.  With a growl fringing his breath, Wolf slammed the intercom button with his forefinger, broadcasting to all parts of the ship.

            “Pigma.  Aim for the door,” Wolf commanded.

            “Uhhh but it’s closed?” Pigma asked.

            “Just do it,” Wolf said sternly.  “Leon.  Andrew.  Get ready.  I want you to shoot as many goddamn Cornerians outta the sky as you can.  Pigma.  When we’re out, thrust it and aim up.”

            “Roger that,” Leon confirmed over the mic.

            “Roger!” Andrew echoed in a high-pitched voice.

            “Here we go!” Pigma said.

            Wolf could feel the ship’s engines rev with energy.  If the engine was going to die on them, they would know within seconds. Wolf held his breath as the vessel began to lift, still pulling hard on the controls.  The vessel slowly began to swing around.  Wolf settled down in the seat as it did, breathing heavily and looking at the metallic door.  One shot, maybe two.  He laughed bitterly, feeling déjà vu.  It always felt like it came down to the wire.

            He looked out the window.  Stepping through the broken glass was a man in an officer’s uniform—a cold-eyed husky with mismatched brown and blue eyes.  They stood out against his ebony fur.  He lifted his chin and Wolf could have sworn the husky was glaring right at him through the window. 

            The metal door came into the cannon’s reach and Wolf pressed down on the trigger to charge a shot.  As soon as he did, he could hear the Cornerians outside screaming and shouting in realization.  With the hint of a smile on his face, Wolf fired upon the door with the cannon.  Two charged shots coursed through the air overhead like twin comets, burning trails streaking after them.  That hangar door stood no chance.

            “Gun it, Pigma,” Wolf breathed into the mic.

            The murmur of the engines swelled into a roar and he grabbed hard on the controls as the carrier suddenly burst forward.  Wolf stared ahead unblinkingly in fear, his nails digging into the padding of the cannon control stick.  The bottom of the vessel scraped into one of the other ships—a shuttle that Wolf figured was probably at least ten years old.  The shuttle fell off of its landing gear, nose slamming into the ground.  He winced on its behalf.

            Another ship met the side of their carrier’s short wing.  And then another felt the brute force of their vessel as it boosted from the hangar.  Despite the engines loud battle cry, Wolf could hear the unmistakable sound of metal crunching as they slammed their way through the remains of the hangar door.

            The Eladardian sky greeted them and Wolf had about a millisecond to be relieved before the first few Cornerian fighters came into view.  They flew in a V formation and Wolf could see that there was a message heralding their carrier.  He promptly ignored it and began to fire at the incoming fighters.  It seemed just as those had flown past or been blown to bits that the next round was already on them.  Wolf squeezed the trigger hard, sending a fiery blast into the next wave. 

            “Pigma!  The teleportation device!” Andrew shouted over the mic.

            “I know, I know,” Pigma replied hastily. “If I can get a clear shot, I’m gonna boost out, use it, then take us to literally anywhere other than here.”

            “If you port us into the middle of Solar, I will cook your hide,” Wolf snapped.

            The third wave came and much to Wolf’s horror, he realized they were bombers.  As they began to soar over the vessel, he tried his best to rapid fire at them.  Their bombs crashed onto the hull and he was jerked around in his seat.  His snout nearly smacked into the cannon controls.  He could feel Pigma gun the engines one more time but they creaked unsteadily.  Fear gripping his heart, Wolf looked to the skies.  More bombers were on their way, escorted by fighters.  They had to do something and quick.

            Wolf powered up another charged blast.  It incinerated the next inbound squad and he took a cautionary glance down.  They were climbing over Corona.  The old, neglected city was getting further and further away by the second.  He could barely even see the airport anymore. 

            Ahead of them, was a terrifying sight.  While some of the CDF vessels had landed to begin the search, a number of them were still guarding the skies.  And judging from the thousands of dots coming their way, they had just released their squadrons to open fire on Star Wolf’s carrier.  Wolf sucked in a deep breath.  There was no way their ship was going to make it past the blockade.

            “My cannons have been hit,” Andrew said over the intercom. “Left barrel is smoking.  I… I think it may still work…?”

            “How far until we spawn the portal, Pigma?” Leon asked urgently.

            “I’m workin’ on it, I’m workin’ on it!” Pigma yelled.

            The engines revved again, angrier this time and the carrier surged forward towards a certain death.  Wolf watched the wall of fighters come closer.  They moved like a tidal wave, ready to devour them whole.  Everything they had done to survive would be for nothing… a bitter defeat Wolf knew he could not bear.  Not when they had fought so hard for so long.

            “Pigma…” Leon began in a low voice, his fear evident.

            “Buy him time!” Wolf commanded over the speaker.  “We have to.”

            He aimed a preliminary shot at the mass of fighters headed their way.  When he loosed it, it seemed like it struck true… but if any of the fighters were destroyed, they were immediately replaced by another wave.  Desperately, he fired again.  And again.  It didn’t matter what he did.  There was no end to them and before he knew it, the first wave was on them.  Green lasers rocketed at their hull, razing the top.  One laser nearly pierced the cockpit Wolf was sitting it.  The ship swayed and he grabbed onto the arm rests tightly with his breath caught in his throat.  His violet eye swiveled up at the second wave, which was almost on them.  There was no time to even scream.

            And then the violet light appeared, stretching wide in front of the ship like a gaping mouth.  His heart leapt with sheer terror before he realized it was the portal.  Apprehensive relief sprouted from his chest but he was too scared to say that they were in the clear. Not until he felt the pull of the portal and their dinged up vessel had been sucked into the wormhole.

            As before, the skies around them were an array of nonsensical rainbow colors.  It felt like stars were dancing all around them, shining and shimmering like they belonged in a cartoon.  Colors bent and swirled around them, dragging them into a dimension that was between dimensions, where logic felt like it made no sense and reality was just an imagination. 

            Wolf watched their vessel cut through the insanity around them.  He wanted to lean back and let the portal take them to wherever it was Pigma had planned but he could not.  The canine leaned against the glass, looking at the nonsensical sights around him.

            Movement to his left caught his attention and he looked over through the sea of holographic color.  It was vaguely transparent, he realized as he stared hard at it, like a mist or nebula.  But that was not what disturbed him more. 

            Something moved beyond the colors.  Something big.  It swam through the vivid void like it was water.  Its body was long, its tail extended long with a sort of fin at the end.  The tail moved up and down like some aquatic monstrosity.  He had never seen anything like it.

            A deep wail pierced his ears and he sucked in a quick breath.  The vessel around them shuddered, trembling, threatening to come apart at the seams.  Wolf felt a cry tear from his muzzle as he grabbed the cannon controls, willing the carrier to stay together with every ounce of energy he had.  The wail grew louder… louder…

            And then Wolf heard nothing.   

Chapter Text

             When he opened his eye again, their ship was out of the portal and enveloped in a starry ocean.  Wolf lifted his head painfully from where it had been resting on the dashboard to the cannon controls, his neck popping as he did so.  Groggy, he looked out the window, spying no familiar landmarks.  Eladard was nowhere to be seen.  Wherever Pigma had decided to take them, it seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.

            Feeling relief finally rest its mantle upon him, Wolf leaned back in his chair, closing his eye again.  He rubbed his forehead with his forefinger and thumb, trying to massage away a lingering ringing headache.  His next exhale was a shuddering one as he mentally tried to grasp what just happened.  No matter how hard he tried, it all still seemed so confusing.

            What had he seen in the wormhole?  Was that… some sort of space monster?  Whatever it was, Wolf was entirely certain he did not want to tango with it again.  He blinked a few times and then stared dully at the controls in front of him.  Perhaps he should have felt more like celebrating but loitering feelings of fear still kept him in disbelief.  Was that really the end?  Had they really escaped Eladard?  And right in plain sight of the Cornerians?  Wolf wished he could’ve seen General Pepper’s face when the report got back to him.

            But as much as the canine wanted to fantasize about his enemy getting the bad news, he knew he had a few things to take care of first. 

            “Crew check.  Yell if you’re dead,” Wolf said tiredly into the intercom.

            “Andrew here,” Andrew said. “What the hell was that!?”

            “Leon here,” Leon chimed in.

            “Pigma here,” Pigma finished.

            “Dunno what the fuck that was, but we’re alive,” Wolf said. “Meet up at the bridge.”

            Wolf made his way out of the cannon controls, climbing stiffly down the ladder.  His entire body ached even more now that the danger had passed.  Gait inflicted with a limp, he gradually made his way to the bridge, reaching down to his belt and patting his blaster once to make sure it was still there.  It was a safety precaution… and a part of his plan later. 

            The bridge cut for a pretty poor sight.  Pigma lounged in the pilot’s chair, although he had already put the carrier on autopilot.  Leon sat in a nearby chair as well, massaging his cheekbones with a vacant look in his orange eyes.  Andrew sat on the opposite side of the room, stretching his legs out.

            “Where are we?” Wolf asked, looking to Pigma.

            “Well, I set our course for Fortuna.  But where we landed… heh, guess you could say we missed our mark a bit,” Pigma said, swiveling around in his chair.  With the clicks of a few keys, he brought up a map. 

            It looked like they had spilled out into open space, with nothing particularly close by.  Pigma began to scroll out on the map.  At once, planets began popping up all over the map, each with a label. It took Wolf a few minutes to realize that he did not recognize anything.  Not a single planet.  Not a single station.  A new type of panic gripped him and he leaned forward, staring at the map incredulously. 

            “Guess the teleporter’s a bit busted,” Andrew said. “Could’ve happened when we were fleeing.  Where are we now?”

            Wolf’s single eye flitted upwards, to where the galaxy’s name was listed.

            “The Atlas Star System,” he said brusquely.  “Never heard of it.  We must’ve gotten dropped in the middle of the boonies.”

            “It seems like it.  I wonder what that interference was…” Andrew’s brow furrowed in thought.  

            “Heh, maybe it was all to our advantage. The Cornerians definitely aren’t gonna think to look out here,” Pigma grinned. “Why don’t we see if we can find a planet that’s a bit more hospitable and lay low for a while?”

            “It’s the only thing we can do for now,” Wolf said. “Andrew, take us to the closest planet.  Preferably one with civilization.  I don’t know how many rations we got here.”

            “A-Andrew?” Pigma asked in surprise.

            “Yeah.  Andrew, do it,” Wolf said, nodding to the simian.  “Pigma, Leon.  With me.”

            “Sure thing, Boss…” Andrew said uncertainly as Pigma pushed himself out of the pilot’s chair. 

            As Andrew settled in, Wolf began towards the corridor leading out of the bridge.  Pigma toddled after him, his pale eyes glimmering with intrigue and apprehension. Wolf maintained his stoicism, staring ahead blankly down the hallway.  The sound of Pigma and Leon’s footsteps behind him was reassurance enough that they were obeying him without question. 

            Down the hall, down a set of stairs and towards the hangar, the three walked without a word shared between them.  Wolf liked it this way.  After all of the chaos, silence was nice… even if it was ridden with tension and despair.

            Soon enough, the hallway leading to the hangar came into view but that was not his destination.  Wolf stopped just short of it, in front of the doors leading to their carrier’s escape pod.  His single eye flashed towards Pigma.  Ruthlessly, the canine grabbed the hog by his collar.  Fluidly, his other hand unholstered his gun and pointed it directly between Pigma’s now very wide, very concerned eyes.

            “Wha--!?” Pigma yelped as Wolf slammed him into the set of closed doors leading to the escape pods.

            “Open the door, Leon,” Wolf said through clenched teeth and Leon obliged him without question. 

            Wolf shoved Pigma through the doors and into the escape pod, pointing the blaster still at the hog’s wide head.  Despite the pain, despite the exhaustion, his aim was steady, his breathing calm.  His violet eye was bloodshot, rimmed with darkness from a lack of restful sleep, and wild with reignited rage.  Wolf could hear Leon step back, his own unease almost tangible. 

            “I could send you hurtlin’ to a planet that would kill you in seconds.  I could send you hurtlin’ into the nearest fucking sun if I wanted to,” Wolf growled, his ears back. “And if I ever have a reason to believe that you’re undermining us again, I’ll fucking do it.”

            “W-Wolf…” Pigma said with a shiver, back flat against the far wall of the escape pod.

            “I wanted to leave you on Eladard so damn bad but I needed you in order to get this far,” Wolf said coldly. “You delivered.  And thank your lucky stars because if you hadn’t, I’d have left a corpse for the General’s mutts to find.  But all that aside, the fact o’ the matter is that you were actively tryin’ to make things difficult for us.  And I won’t ignore that.”

            He emphasized his words by thrusting the gun forward, so the barrel was just a few feet from the hog. 

            “I’m cuttin’ your pay until I’m sure you understand how stupid all of that was,” Wolf continued, his rage sated with every venomous word.  “Am I clear?”

            “Clear as crystal,” Pigma squeaked, his pale eyes trained upon Wolf’s gun. 

            “Good.  Go make sure the Wolfens are fueled.  We may need them soon.”

            “Yessir.”

            Now that that was done, Wolf knew their next course of action would be to figure out where they were going and if they had a way they could possibly ever return to Lylat.  He lowered his blaster, side-eyeing Leon for a moment before giving him the approving nod to back up.  The canine turned around, ears swiveled in Pigma’s direction to make sure the frightened hog wouldn’t try anything again.  He was pleased when all Pigma did was stare after him, lower lip giving a slight quiver.  As Wolf retreated down the corridor towards the bridge, the swine’s fumbling apology followed him, bouncing off the metallic walls.

            “I… I’m sorry, Wolf.  I really am.”   

            Wolf knew he was sorry.  Sorry he got caught.  Sorry he had ever crossed him.  And maybe… just maybe… sorry that he had jeopardized their entire mission to pay off some gazelle bimbo.  Wolf exhaled out his frustration, combing his white fringe with a set of sharp nails.  Would it have been better to just shoot Pigma then and there?  No… he believed the hog had learned his lesson and being out in the middle of who-knows-where made Wolf think that they were going to have to band together now more than ever.  He wanted to laugh.  Pigma’s convenience had kept the greedy swine alive more than he realized.

            “Wolf.”

            It was Leon.  Wolf stopped and glanced over his shoulder at the lizard. 

            “One last thing,” the Venomian said, walking slowly to the canine.

            Wolf realized there was something in his hand, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was until Leon’s fingers unfurled and he offered it to his leader. It was a small flash drive.  Plain black with a sloppy label that had been written in silver pen.  All it said was ‘Wolf’. 

            “What’s this?” Wolf quirked a brow.

            “Lenny gave this to me.  He said it was yours,” Leon replied, shaking his head. “I do not know what it contains.”

            Wolf accepted it, holding the dainty drive between his thumb and forefinger.  Lenny had never been great with technology—he’d always kept the younger folk around for that.  Whether it was figuring out how to email someone or trying to place an online order, the croc had always insisted he was too old to learn new tricks.  The old scaly bastard was much more at home with a wrench in his hand and oil staining his blue jeans.  So why did he have a flash drive with Wolf’s name on it? 

            “Weird.  Thanks, Leon.  I’ll take a look at it,” Wolf replied. “Can you make sure Andrew isn’t about to crash us into something?”

            “Of course,” Leon said with a small bow.

            After the lizard disappeared, Wolf made for his quarters at once.  Even though they had plenty of computers to slide the drive into on the bridge, something told him that this would best be viewed in private.  He could decide later on if it was worth sharing with the others or not.

            When he made it to his room, he turned on the light and shut the door quickly—so quickly he almost caught his own tail tip in the door.  He locked it for good measure then took a moment to absorb the sight of his room.  It was untouched since he had last been in there but that seemed like a lifetime ago.  His bed was unmade, his pillow slumped partially against the wall.  A few articles of clothes lay near the bed in a heap.  The trashcan was filled with scrap paper.  It almost made him feel like everything from Eladard had been a dream.

            But then the pain kicked in.  With a groan, he shuffled over to a small desk he had bolted into the wall.  There was a small laptop sitting on it—one that was seldom used, but kept for the rare instances when Wolf would have rather stayed in isolation rather than wander the corridors of their carrier.

            He opened up the laptop, booted it up, and slid the drive into its respective slot.  He moved to the laptop’s folders and clicked on the drive, pulling up its contents.  He was surprised to find only two files within the drive. The labels were all abbreviations, ones that Wolf could scarcely make sense of.  The first one was titled ‘TAO’ and the next one was titled ‘RIO’.  He right-clicked the first file to check its file type and realized it was some sort of document.  The second one seemed to be the same.  Apprehensively, Wolf clicked ‘TAO’.

            The document opened and the first thing Wolf O’Donnell saw was a picture. The face of a pale gray wolf, her eyes the colors of deep amethysts, greeted him.  She seemed to be looking to the right, not aware of the fact her picture was being taken.  A white blaze covered her muzzle, resting between her dazzling eyes.  A tuft of long white hair sprung from atop her head, swept to the side and resting above her right brow.  She was smiling happily at something off screen.

            The next picture was a full-body shot.  She was walking out of a house with a flappy floral hat on, a matching blue dress, and sporting sleek twin robotic legs.  Two children were with her—a white wolf pup with those same twinkling purple eyes and a light gray one with a joyous grin.  Wolf’s gaze fell upon them, a strange feeling surging in his chest.  He looked them over for a moment then looked back at the woman.

            He knew her.  He had known her in a life that felt like it had been lived by someone else entirely.  Wolf swallowed back the emotion rising in his throat, ears back.

            Tala.  Tala Arleen O’Donnell.  TAO.

            Wolf kept scrolling.  It seemed like the rest of the file was information.  He began to read it, feeling his heart race.

Name: Tala Arleen O’Donnell-Romulus
            Homeworld: Macbeth
            Current Residence: Dunsinane City, Macbeth

Spouse: Calvin Romulus

Children: Connor Romulus and Channing Romulus
            Occupation: Physical Therapy Instructor
            Summary: After her unfortunate accident, Tala moved from Corona, Eladard, to Dunsinane City, Macbeth, along with her younger brother, Ralph.  Years later, Tala found love in prosthetics specialist Calvin Romulus.  Together they decided to get married and start a family.  It was here that they reunited with Tala’s wayward mother, whom they helped care for until she eventually passed in 2 BLW.  Tala and Calvin remain happily married in Dunsinane City to this day with their two children.

            Married.  She got married.  And she got to go back home.  They both did.

            Wolf hit the bottom of her file and quickly went to the second one.  He knew immediately that this was Ralph’s file and was unsurprised to see his brother’s picture at the top of the page. 

            Ralph had grown much from the tiny whelp he had been.  His shoulders were wide, his arms muscled.  He was slightly round in the gut and a tuft of fur hung down from his chin in a small goatee.  He had kept his dark gray fur and his innocent brown eyes, which seemed to beam with a certain amount of joy that made Wolf smile for a brief moment.  He was wearing simple clothes—a stained looking shirt behind a brown apron, and a cap that rested lightly between his stubby ears. 

            The second picture of him had him in front of a store, one that was titled “O’Donnell Grocers”.  From the backdrop and the sleek architecture, Wolf could tell the photo had been taken on Macbeth.  Next came the information.

Name: Ralph Irwin O’Donnell

Homeworld: Macbeth
            Current Residence: Dunsinane City, Macbeth
            Spouse: n/a

Children: n/a

Occupation: Owner of the O’Donnell Grocers chain
            Summary: Ralph left with his sister Tala when they were given a mysteriously large sum of money—enough that could buy them a place to stay in Dunsinane City, Macbeth.  It is unknown how they obtained this money.  He later began to work manual labor jobs to keep money flowing in, eventually deciding to start his own line of grocery stores.  They became a big hit because of their inclusion of video game booths for children to play at while their parents shopped.  Ralph still lives in Dunsinane City to this day.

            Wolf kept scrolling.  There was a substantial space between the end of Ralph’s information log and the next bit of text.  Judging from the typos, he knew exactly who had written this next portion.

“Wolf,

            I may be a dam idyot of a scrapper but I know people.  And those people know other people, like private investigaters.  I had this done a coupla years back.  Meant ta send it sometime to ya but I never knew where ta find ya.  Annyways, I thought may be if I give this to ya, ya’ll have some sole-ace in knowin that what happened may have been pretty awful but it became all right in the end.  It always does, no matter what.

            In case your wunderin, I gave ‘em the money you told me ta all those years ago.  I know it was moonstone money but dam… money is money, I guess.  They were able to get out right after ya did.  I made sure Archie didn’t know.  If ya ever wanna go see ‘em, ya know where to find ‘em.  I think they’d like that.  Your an uncle now by the way.

            Stay outta trouble, pup.  I’m not always gunna be there to bail ya out or sneak ya thru unnerground tunnels.  And stop tryna pick shit with the Cornerians.

Annyways gonna give this to ya lizard frend.  He seems like he’s got a good head between his shoulders.  Keep that one around if ya keep any of them.

Don’t wait so long to come visit.

Lenny

            He stared at Lenny’s message for a few long minutes, processing everything.  His chest felt warm, and not in a bad way.  There was something caught in his throat, making it hard to breathe.  He finally managed out an exhale with a bittersweet chuckle, one that accompanied the slight burning sensation near his eye.   The canine forced back the tear before it could even be born with a series of fierce blinks.  The sad smile dwelled on his muzzle after he shut the laptop, hand resting on its cold surface.

            A visit to Macbeth?  He couldn’t see that happening.  Not for a long time.  Not until this all blew over.  Not until they could figure out how to even get back to the Lylat System.  And then?  Maybe.  Just maybe… Wolf would go to that Macbethian city, and he would see for himself what it had all been for in the end.

            But until then, he had a team to run, supplies to find, and an empire to run from.  Wolf stood up, casting one last longing look back at the flash drive, and then departed his room.  He steeled his heart in those steps back to the bridge, furrowing his bushy brows with determination.  When the door slid open, he spied Leon and Andrew immediately.  The simian was still in the pilot’s chair and Leon was next to him, looking at a hologram of a map.  Space stretched around them for as far as he could see—all save for a planet in the distance. 

            “What’s our status?” Wolf asked.

            “We’re heading for a planet called Sonatus,” Andrew informed him. “Do you wanna fly for a bit?”

            “Nah, I trust the ship in your hands.  Any intel on Sonatus?” Wolf asked.

            “Not much, but there seems to be some civilization there.  And where there’s civilization, there’s probably supplies,” Andrew replied. “Or… I hope.”

            “Good,” Wolf nodded. “Then things are finally looking up.”

            “I didn’t wanna say it, but…” Andrew gave him a fanged smile.

            “Where I come from, we don’t believe in optimism,” Leon said but Wolf could see even the callous assassin had a smirk playing about his mouth. “But after these last few weeks, having a shred of hope feels nice.”

            “We finally won something!” Andrew chimed in.

            “When you put it like that, it makes us sound like losers,” Wolf retorted but inwardly felt himself breathing a sigh of relief.

            Yes.  They had won. They had seen bloodshed, death, and pain ever since their flight from Venom… and they had prevailed through miracles, skill, and luck.  Wolf thought he would have been happier.  But maybe… the reward was just surviving to see another day.

            The intercom bleeped suddenly.  Pigma’s voice crackled over the radio.

            “Pigma here.  Wolfens are all fueled up and ready to go whenever we need ‘em!”

            “Good,” Wolf replied back over the intercom.

            “Do you think he really fueled them?” Leon asked anxiously.

            “I think he did,” Wolf replied. “He’s certainly not going to benefit from runnin’ now.  Not in a place like this.”

            “Huh?” Andrew asked obliviously.

            “Don’t worry about it,” Wolf shrugged. “Check them if ya want, Leon.”

            “I’ll trust your word,” Leon said. “It hasn’t led us astray yet.”

            Wolf gave a small chuckle. He wandered over to the window, looking out at the darkness of space around them.  He leaned against the cold of the glass, staring at the sea of stars that watched their victorious passage.  That silent heaviness from before had disappeared, replaced with a sense of liberating calm.  Wolf could not recall the last time he had felt at ease.  It was enough to put a confident smirk on his face, a smirk that challenged the stars and fate itself to dare try their luck with him again. 

            Despite being so far from the star system he had called home, the stars here looked the same.  They still danced.  They still twinkled.  They still burned.

Chapter Text

            The Cornerian fleet looked like an infestation in the air.  As their cream and green fighters swarmed the skies next to their grander dreadnaughts, Richard de Lyonne thought only of how scavengers flocked to a fresh corpse, hoping to have their fill.  The feline stood on the landing ramp of his company’s sleek cruiser, eyes cast upwards at the mayhem taking to the heavens.  His upper lip curled disdainfully but his honey eyes betrayed the smallest signs of amusement.

             Richard de Lyonne, CEO of Lionheart Corps, was a man of his early 50s but his towering frame looked like it belonged to someone in their prime.  His gait was flawless, head even with each step.  His golden mane had been tied back into a ponytail that trailed along his spine.  Tiny strands of silver were woven into the luscious thick mane-- the only sign that he had aged at all in the last few decades.  He had come to Eladard for the only reason anyone sane did—to conduct business.  But it seemed as though he had picked an interesting day to do so.

            Nothing was ever as easy as it should have been-- that was simply the rule of the universe.  With his ruby-topped cane in hand, the lion descended the rest of the way down the ramp, flanked by two security officers decked out in combat armor, each equipped with one of their newest blasters, the Sagitta.

            Unsurprisingly given the circumstances, the security booth at the hangar was vacant.  Richard strolled through the turnstile, one of his strong hands pushing through the metal bar.  His two guards followed mechanically behind him, not asking questions.  They marched behind their boss as he gracefully strolled through the hangar’s entryway, eyes locked only on the front doors.

          Past the sliding doors, he saw his target and immediately his kingly face broke out into a pleased smile.  A forced smile… but a convincing one.  He had spent years practicing how to deal with ingrates he’d rather see tossed into one of his company’s furnaces than speak to. 

          “Kevin.  I was hoping I would find you here,” Richard said in his deep, velvety tone to the wiry mouse in front of him. “When we lost track of your signal, I had feared the worst.”

            “Mr. de Lyonne,” Kevin flashed one of his charming, toothy smiles and gave an illustrious bow.

            Richard laughed, knowing that it was unnecessary but also relishing in the royal treatment.  He was just a businessman but to a street rat like Kevin, that practically made him part of a monarchy.  And Richard loved that idea.

            “As requested, here is the Prototype Neo-Cerinian Saber,” Kevin said, extending out the metallic hilt, which he cradled in both of his grimy paws.

            Richard noticed what was wrong immediately.  The hilt was damaged severely, part of its casing melted away by what he presumed to be laser fire.  His brow knitted concern upon his regal features but regardless, the suave businessman accepted the hilt into his large paw.  Inspecting it closely, he could tell that the interior had been fried.  Even more upsettingly, the power gem that sat in the hilt’s core was missing. 

            It only took us years to procure one with enough energy to manifest a magic blade.  Ugh, am I going to have to send more fodder to that dinosaur planet to find another crystal? 

            “Oh dear,” He sighed, looking to Kevin in exasperation. “You failed to let me know it had been damaged.”

            “Yeah, erm… about that…” Kevin scratched the back of his neck, picking at some of his knotted fur. “I wasn’t the first one that got me hands on it.  Sorry, Chief.  Some mercs kinda got it all torn up.”

            “Mercs?” Richard inquired with a raised brow.

            “Oh, yeah.  The ones causin’ all of this hubbub,” Kevin gestured to the sky. “Star Wolf.  You uh… probably have heard of ‘em.  They came here and took out the Baron.”

            “Ursus is dead?” Richard asked in surprise.  He felt a tiny flitter of glee in his chest, coupled with a pang of jealousy that he had not been the one to do the crazed bear in.

            “Yeah, Boss, he got gutted by Star Wolf and now the Cornerians are lookin’ for ‘em,” Kevin replied. “Erm… not to change the subject too much but eh… our deal’s still goin’, right?  I give you the thing Archie stole and you uh… you make that call?”

            Richard had half of a mind to punt the mouse into the nearest garbage dump—likely where the vagabond belonged.  But the lion could not deny the mouse had ultimately fulfilled his part of the bargain, even if the blade was beyond repair at this point.

            “I’ll call the governor back in Macbeth City and he will release your brother and his… friends,” Richard retorted coolly. “You have my word.”

            “Heh, sounds good to me!” Kevin grinned.

            Richard opened the flap of his dark suit jacket, sliding the saber’s hilt inside.  Without the core, there was no way it could activate and he would rather it be out of sight while he conducted the rest of his business in Corona.  There were things he had to preserve—his business plans being one of them.  If those goons on Corneria had begun to figure out that they were about to fall behind in the arms market, then there would certainly be trouble.  And Richard knew he didn’t want that.

            “That concludes our business, then,” Richard said to the mouse. “Do take care, Kevin.”

            “Hehe, back at ya, Mr. de Lyonne,” the rodent gave another bow and scurried down the sidewalk, looking up at the Cornerians as they flew about the Eladardian skies. 

            The lion had the foresight to schedule a limousine service to carry him to his next destination, and much to his delight, he saw it awaiting him at the curb just a few yards away. 

            “Halt!” a voice commanded and Richard obeyed with a dreary sigh.

            Three Cornerian dogs were fast approaching Richard and his meager entourage, each equipped with guns.  Richard wanted to roll his eyes.  Cornerian dogs with their posh Cornerian brand weapons.  How quaint. 

            “This is a restricted zone.  We have criminals on the loose in Eladard airspace.  All hangars are off-limits to civilians,” the first Cornerian, quite evidently an officer of high regard according to the medals on his uniform, said.  He was a dark-furred husky with mismatched blue and brown eyes, his brows highlighted with white markings. 

            “Then why was I permitted to land my ship?” Richard asked in his silky smooth voice and the Cornerian narrowed his mismatched gaze.

            “Can I see identification?” the officer asked.  His two soldiers stood dormant behind him.

            “But of course,” Richard de Lyonne said, pulling his wallet from a side pocket within his jacket.  He was very careful to not expose the saber hilt.  He unfurled the wallet and showed his license to the Cornerian officer, who took it into his hands with much scrutiny.

            “Richard de Lyonne,” the feline said. “Of Lionheart Corps of Macbeth City.”

            “I see,” the officer said, handing the license back to Richard. “Very well then.  As long as you clear the hangar until we’ve got this mess figured out, you are free to go.”

            “Excellent,” purred the lion.

            “Sergeant Vega!” one of the officer’s goons, a hound, exclaimed.  He put his finger next to his ear, listening to what Richard assumed was a broadcast coming through his headset. “Command says Star Wolf used a teleportation device.  They’re trying to track where the portal led to.”

            “Find them,” Vega said sharply.  “If we make a mess of this, the General’s gonna call in that fox and I don’t wanna hear about that guy saving the day again.”

            Vega looked to Richard one last time.

            “Good day to you.”

            “And to you as well,” Richard said, watching the disgruntled husky make his way down the sidewalk, furiously chattering away on a radio.

            Amused, the lion’s tail flicked back and forth.  He made his way to his limo, the driver opening the door for him.  He got seated across from his two guards and sat patiently as the vehicle took him away from the hangar and into the thick of Corona’s worn city.

            Outside, the streets of Eladard’s capital were ruined by lack of proper management.  He marveled at the barbaric streets, their pavement interrupted by horrendous cracks that were so big that some vehicles were likely unable to traverse it.  Most of the buildings were ragged and without store signs—evidence of a booming economy that had withered away. 

            Lionheart Corps was formally established on Macbeth but Richard had seen to it that his hometown of Corona had a site as well.  The building in question was on the outskirts of town, far enough away so that Richard could see the hill that Archie had once dwelled upon.  He smiled at the charred ruins that now sat in the distance, overlooking the dreary city.  They were a gravestone that would mark the end of Archie’s tyranny… and the start of something brand new.

            The Lionheart Corps building came into sight before long.  Once, it had been a warehouse, but now it had been refurbished, with a grandiose entryway.  Richard remarked the front area would look spectacular with a fountain but he told himself frivolous spending could wait.  After all, he had much to do in the next few weeks.

            “We’re here,” one of the guards informed him, as if that needed to be said at all. 

            Richard de Lyonne climbed out of the vehicle and took in the gloomy sight around him.  Truly, Lionheart Corps stood out above the rest of the ruined buildings in the area, cleaned to the brim and branded with his crisp logo.  One day, mused the lion, he hoped that his building would only stand out due to fame.

            “Home sweet home,” breathed the lion as he began towards the building’s front doors, inhaling deeply.  He could scent tobacco adrift in the air, along with the stench of mud and other unspeakable liquids in the nearby sewers.  It was a nostalgic, awful scent, one that made his snout wrinkle but his heart hum with a sort of bittersweet love. 

            When he walked through the front doors of Lionheart Corps’s base, he was greeted at once by several employees.  They were small fry, faceless managers he could have cared less about and their dutiful employees that he was certain had been picked up off the streets.  It mattered not to him—even the most useless trash could look beautiful if you cleaned it up and anyone with a brain between their ears could learn how to point a blaster.

            He was not here for any of them but he gave them his best smiles, best greetings, best laughs to their not-very-funny jokes.  His real target was in a room in the back, which he was thankfully led to without too much preamble.  Down the corridor decorated by pictures of the newest Lionheart models and had a few monstera plants decorating the corners, each potted in sleek black containers.  There were small devices on the walls that emitted the scent of roses—his favorite.  He smiled.  She knew he was coming.

            His destination was a large black door at the end of the hall—one that led to their grandest meeting room.  Richard grabbed the doorknob, made of cold silver, and cherished its curvy artistry for a split second with a pleased smirk. 

            “Stay here,” Richard said to his guard and stepped inside.

            The room was empty except for a computer on the side, one connected to a screen meant for slideshows and presentation.  On the counter at the left side, there were two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine—a Zoness variety that Richard knew was at least forty years old.  There was a large table in the middle, each chair cushioned for lengthy meetings.  All of the chairs were empty except for one.

            Savanna Grant was an enticingly beautiful creature, made slim and petite, with a head full of sleek strawberry blonde hair that she kept out of her eyes with a small gold bobby pin.  She was a gazelle, her horns dazzled with gems and gold to flaunt her wealth.  Because she was truly wealthy—likely the wealthiest person on Eladard at the moment.  And Richard only knew that because she was his most prized employee and second-in-command.

            “Richard,” her voice was honeyed and flowed like wine.  “I am glad you were able to make it.  No one knew the Cornerians had planned to arrive when they did.”

            “It was no trouble.  They let us in without too much of a hassle,” Richard waved his hand. “I’m only glad that your plan worked.  It would have been a shame to give away company assets for free.  Even if our… friend… provided us with sufficient payback.”

            “Agreed.  The Venomian weapons he gave us have already been dismantled and were sent to our labs to be researched.  I saw it fit to wipe Pigma’s debt clean and call off the bounty hunters when he approached us so willingly.  That he was bold enough to come back and ask for help was… an unexpected development, but not unwelcome.  Especially considering how everything played out,” Savanna said as Richard took his seat across from her.  “Regardless, we will never have to worry about Archie Ursus again.  Truly a blessing in these… chaotic times.”

            “Star Wolf.  How fortunate it was that they arrived here just as we began to put our own plans into motion.  They proved to be adequate help,” Richard chuckled. “Although… I would have you look at the saber.  Kevin did manage to retrieve it, however…”

            The lion produced the saber from his jacket, setting its ruined hilt down onto the table.  Savanna frowned at it, picking it up gingerly.  She turned it over in her hands and then set it back down.

            “A shame, is it not?  And he didn’t grab the power gem when it fell out either,” Richard tutted. “I am considering contacting that… Star Wolf… group to perhaps find a new power source for it.  Perhaps as a way to make up for this.”

            Savanna’s frown turned into a small smirk.  She leaned back slightly so that her back rested against the cushion of her chair.

            “And if I told you there was no need for that?” the gazelle asked lightly.

            Richard’s brows rose.

            “We finished our planetary scan.  It turns out power gems like this can be found all across the Lylat System—albeit in smaller doses.  Yes, even Eladard has these power gems, in pockets deep underneath the planet’s surface,” Savanna said firmly.

            Richard’s brows rose even higher and a joyous smile burst onto his features.

            “Interesting.  Then our theory is correct.  Each planet has the potential to produce natural magic, sometimes manifesting in a crystallized form,” Richard said. “Then we’ll need to start looking at hiring miners.  Perhaps we can even look at purchasing some of the land just outside of the city.  It is rife with abandoned factories, after all, and I’m sure the owners are dying to rid themselves of the property taxes.  Construction work will be abound, as will drilling jobs… certainly enough to help stimulate an economy, no?”

            “Perhaps enough of a stimulus to help sway the people to elect a wayward Eladardian son as their new mayor?” Savanna asked with a smirk.

            Richard laughed. “It was… quite fortunate that things played out this way, was it not?  Much better than having to spend company funds on hiring an assassin to get rid of the bloody Baron.”

            Savanna, too, laughed. “Then we are in agreement.  I will start making it known that Lionheart Corps has found something of value on Eladard and that we will be looking to expand here.  And with the Cornerians still reeling from the Lylat Wars and no Archie to stop us, we will have Corona back to where it once was.  And you will be mayor for it.”

            “Mayor first, perhaps governor tomorrow,” Richard smirked.  “Life is a ladder and I intend to climb it.  Now.  You didn’t call me all the way here to tell me that our dear friend Archie had met his maker, did you?”

            The gazelle’s eyes shifted.  She rose from her chair, elegantly walking towards the computer next to the large screen.  Her crimson dress swished with every step she made in her ebony high heels.  Richard found himself staring at the way she moved—a habit he had picked up despite having a missus at home himself. 

            “I wanted to show you something we picked up on our last scan,” she said to him as she seated herself at the computer.  She clicked through a few things and then pulled up an image.

            It was a map of eastern Corona, blacked out save for the larger structures.  Richard could see the density of the city buildings towards the middle.  There were small blue spots dotting the city.  Some were clustered together.  Others were spread out. 

            “This is our last scan.  We searched for anything emitting the same type of energy as the power gems we took from Dinosaur Planet,” Savanna began, gesturing to the blue dots on the map. “As you can see, over Corona, there’s small pockets.  Nothing too huge, like north of here.  But then…”

            She clicked onto another image, pulling up the western quarter of Corona.  There were small blue dots like before.  But this time, there was a large blob of blue to the west, spanning across several neighborhoods.  Richard blinked in surprise.  Was Eladard resting on a giant deposit of power gems?

            “We thought it was a pocket.  But we zoomed in a bit more and we found out it’s not a pocket at all,” Savanna informed him.

            The gazelle pulled up a final image.  It looked like a neighborhood but it was completely drowned in the blue coloring.  Savanna zoomed in even more and a small dot appeared, indicating a pinpoint location of where the power was coming from.  The lion’s brow furrowed greatly as he tried to wrap his mind around what he was seeing.

            “It’s one gem,” she said, her dark eyes moving to him.

            One gem?  How was that possible? 

            “One?” Richard repeated incredulously.

            “Yes—just one.  One unlike anything we’ve ever seen.  Its location seems to be, oddly enough, residing in a local scrapper’s storefront,” Savanna informed him.

            “A competitor?” Richard asked in concern.

            “Unlikely.  The scrapping business is prevalent in Eladardian society—as you very well know, much of the planet has abandoned factories and cities all over its surface.  Prime scrapping to be found all over.  I’ve no doubt the gem may be considered a trinket in the eyes of a layman.  Perhaps something found on a venture,” Savanna shook her head.  “If my calculations are correct, this single gem contains more power than even a thousand power gems combined.  We… we could use it for something big, sir.”

            Richard was a self-made millionaire and he knew an opportunity when he saw it.  The cogs in his mind whirled.  How it was possible that there was a stone with that much power was beyond him—it was off the charts compared to the feeble one they had stuck into the saber.  A stone like that could power a dreadnought.  Or perhaps even a station. 

            Or perhaps even a weapon that would have made old Andross’s skin crawl.

            Richard could only imagine what Corneria would pay for something like that.

            “Get it,” the feline ordered quietly.  “I want you to get that gem, Savanna.  Before our competition figures out what we’re doing.  Before we lose track of it.”

            “Understood.  Once we’ve obtained the gem, I’ll let you know,” Savanna said. “It may come to bartering money for it.  Do I have permission to do that?”

            “Of course.  Whatever it takes,” Richard said breathlessly.  “When you have it, I want you to deliver it to Macbeth City.  We’ll run tests.  We’ll figure out what this stone is and why it has so much power.”

            “Yes, sir,” Savanna replied dutifully. “Any further orders?”

            Richard mused on this for a moment, then said with a smile, “Hire someone to take out the rest of the Ursus loyalists that sit on the city council.  I don’t care how sloppy it is.  Once they’re gone, we can allocate funds to rebuild the city.  That will get the people talking, if the new jobs don’t.  And then it’s just a matter of the right words spoken in the right way.  And then Corona will be mine.”

            “As it was meant to be so long ago,” Savanna added reverently.

            “Mm.  I’d say this calls for a celebration, don’t you think?” the lion asked her and she nodded.

            The feline gracefully rose from his chair, pouring himself and Savanna glasses of the Zonessian wine on the counter.  He handed her a glass, which she accepted gratefully with a smile.  Richard lifted his glass to the heavens, triumph in his eyes.

            “To Star Wolf.”

            Savanna giggled and they clinked their glasses together.

            “To Star Wolf.”

A Very Big Author's Note:

Annnd… that’s all folks!  Thank you so much for reading and supporting the fic.  I don’t like to ask for likes or comments, but if you have any, I’d love to read your thoughts on the story.  I’m going to go into some detail about the development process below.  If you’re interested, please keep reading.  If not, feel free to vibe on~

General Burning Stars Commentary:

Burning Stars was a learning lesson for me as someone who is trying to get published one of these days.  I had a method of writing when I started this fic that I realized wasn’t going to work overall for bigger stories and through experimentation and this fic, I really took a hard look at my writing process and did a huge revamp.  I learned how to map things out, learned some lessons on pacing, and learned how to do foreshadowing a lot better.  

This fic began as what would’ve been my at-the-time normal fic range of maybe 4 chapters (similar to Ghosts of Venom or Sunglasses) with the main focus being Andrew and Wolf bickering about what they should do next.  But then I began to dig into what I wanted Eladard to be.  I began to really, for the first time funnily enough, think on my take on Wolf’s backstory.  When I wrote chapter 2, I had no idea Archie was going to exist.  Or Lenny.  And Wolf’s backstory was all basically just a fog of vague events that had happened.  But I got so much good feedback from the first two chapters that I was like “Huh, maybe there’s something here!” and I really started coming up with a bare bones plot that eventually I fleshed out as I wrote.  

Then I figured out that maybe making it up as I went wasn’t the best idea.  So I began to actually plan.  I think this was around the time Lenny got caught.  I realized this wasn’t just a run-of-the-mill thing like I had normally worked on so I just… began to take it seriously?  I used to think chapter planning was boring af but now I love it.

Do I think the fic is perfect?  Nah.  Maybe one day, I’ll go back and do an extended edition of it, adding in some tweaks here and there, maybe merging in the Leon and Pigma sidestory, and all of that.  Regardless, I’m pleased with its present form and I’m very grateful to this fic for teaching me how to improve as a writer.

I’m also very grateful for all of the feedback I’ve gotten over the course of this fic’s life.  I’ve gotten lots of reviews, had people chat me up on various social media over it, and I’ve even gotten quite a bit of fan art and people telling me that the story helped them look at characters like Andrew in a different way.  I couldn’t be happier-- having people say stuff like that to me is the biggest compliment I could ever receive.  And don’t you worry, I saved all of the fan art in a folder on my PC and I look at it often and fondly.  And maybe shed a tear or two.

Some Commentary on Pigma:

People in some of my smaller Discord servers know this but originally, Pigma was supposed to be booted from Star Wolf at the end of the last chapter.  However… I knew from quite a bit into planning Burning Stars that I wanted the story to tie in with Starlink.  And because of the Crimson Moon DLC dropping mid-Burning Stars development, some adjustments were made!  At first, I was kinda “ehhh” on it.  But then I really started to think on Pigma and his role within the fandom.

What I realized when I was reworking the story was that I was giving Pigma the treatment that I had been avoiding giving Andrew.  A lot of Star Fox characters are really boiled down to maybe a few traits and they get made into joke characters-- ones that really often get killed early into fics because there’s this idea that “no one cares about them” or “no one cares enough about them to really develop them or show them past these small selection of traits”.  I had realized when I had started Burning Stars that Andrew had potential to be more than just the whiny brat people characterize him as.  And I got ashamed of myself for putting Pigma in such a confined box like that-- being the butt of really unsavory jokes and being just a shady guy that was looking for a reason to backstab people.  So I decided that not only was I going to keep Pigma on the team for Starlink continuity… but also I was going to do it because I was tired of the status quo treatment the guy gets.  

Most fics I read with Pigma have him offed or betraying someone easily in the first few chapters of a story.  It never seems like people give him a chance to be developed or even characterized in a way that’s beyond just being greedy and bad.  He’s a character that always has a shadow of a doubt cast on him both by the characters in SF and by the fandom.  I think that playing with the doubt is more fun than doing a cookie cutter approach to the character-- hence why things ended the way they did with that subplot.  

Also I wanted to introduce Richard because he’s a cool suave dude and totally will not be showing up in any other fics. -cough-

But yeah, I didn’t want to give Andrew, who is seen as a joke, a treatment that Pigma, who is also kind of a joke(?), was denied because it felt hypocritical.  And I reason that Pigma can’t possibly be betraying literally everyone he meets or else he’d have so many enemies that literally no where would be safe for him.  So that is my reasoning and rant about the pig we all love to hate.

Ending Remarks:

If you made it through that entire spiel, congratulations!  My next Burning Stars-like fic will take place two years from the ending of Burning Stars and will feature both Star Fox and Star Wolf.  There will be ties to Burning Stars in that fic but I won’t make the ties so evident that the story can’t be enjoyed solo.  Chapter 1 was finished last night and is in the editing process so expect it to come out soon along with an update to Legacies Never Die.

Thank you so much for reading, again, and I hope you have a wonderful day.