Part 2: Revenge of the Slain
Prologue: Spectres of the aftermath
*Sigh* *breath* *sigh* *couch* Spectre Audio Log; date 0 ATCW, 14 December…
'*Couch* *spit* Bleh, sand in mouth. It has just been declared, the war is over. After two years of living in fear, battling; it's all of over. Poof! Just gone… I can't believe it. The other moment I'm moving down baddies, and then the Cornerian Army (CA) declares peace. Argh, I think a got a bullet in my arm. *Pain* Ah, nevermind, just pulled it out. End of log.'
Sandstorms are raging over the barren wasteland. The white stairs of a ruined temple that he sits on are the only sort of structure that is still untouched by the destruction of war. The sun is blocked by the thick black smoke of broken machinery and the sand whipped up. The whole area gleams orange. Some soldiers pass him by as they talk about home and how the war suddenly ended.
He doesn't even bother looking at them. He holds the bullet he pulled out of his arm in his paw.
'A standard 6.55x54 mm DImp round. Fired at 900 RPM with a faster cycling rate of 1150 RPM. Causes jamming and a large accuracy decrease when used on the long term. This round is fired with 1100 ft/s and is partially crushed in the top half. As a result, a blind shot impacting in my arm. Who uses bullets anyway?'
'Wha…' says a voice next to him. He looks to his right and sees a CA private looking at his hand with a speechless impression on his face.
'Can you see it!?' bites Spectre.
The private breaks from his trance and walks away.
Spectre looks at his paw holding the bullet. Some blood drips from the tip and his hand slowly colors red. He uses the glove of his left paw to wipe his paw clean. He puts his glove back on.
'What should I do? Cry because the war is over? Sit here and do nothing?'
He looks down and looks at his ripped clothing. His silver fur is covered in sand and his white stripes have turned into orange. He wipes the sand away.
'Hhm? Oh, some blood dripping from my arm. Pff…'
He holds his head in his paws and sighs deep. Out of the sandstorm, a small patrol of soldiers approach. At first, nothing but shadows. But as they come closer, they all seem to wear green uniforms. Spectre quickly reaches for his gun and rises. A custom made pistol comes from his holster; a big revolver with two cylinders and two barrels. Even though it's empty, it still looks very frightening. His left paw grabs a small machete and swings it around until he holds it sideways in defensive position. He squeezes his eyes a bit for a more focused image of the group.
A brown boot steps out of the storm as Spectre prepares his empty revolver.
'Put that away Tim.'
Spectre's eyes spring open.
An average hound dog of around 45 years old comes out of the storm. He wipes some sand of the right shoulder. His green uniform a la General Pepper is completely unscratched when compared to Spectre's own cloths.
'Captain Amrish, what are you doing here?'
He looks at Spectre and starts approaching him.
'Well Tim, the reason I'm here, is a sad one.'
'Well…' He scratches his head. 'It's about your brother, Roger.'
Spectre sits down again and puts his weapons on the ground.
'Yeah so?' He looks up to the captain and closes his left eye as the sunlight suddenly finds a hole between the smoke and sand.
'He has been killed.'
Spectre doesn't react and grabs a bottle from his belt. No water comes from the bottle.
'Again, so? I already knew that.
'Well, it appears that he *sigh* survived the Second Ring Battle. His ship indeed disappeared, however transmission coming from planet Kew, revealed that three months ago, his Phantom-wing crash landed in Kew City.'
Spectre crushes his bottle and gazes at Amrish.
'No, not anymore. Reports have indicated that a clash between him, Kursed, Butcher and the police killed him. He helped Kursed, an infamous bounty hunter and ex-pilot of the famous Starfox team, to get her life back. His real motives are unknown.'
'He helped *breath* some random chick… *breath*' He crushes the bottle even more. 'And he died doing it!?' yells Spectre
A small tear springs for his right eye socket as he throws the bottle away. A small sticker falls off the bottle; a photograph of Roger and Tim together.
'I'am very sorry for your loss Tim.'
'Is it true?'
Amrish reaches in his left pocket and grabs a photograph.
'Here's a photo from a security camera from the prison. Kursed is visible.'
Spectre looks at the photograph and pulls it out of Amrish's hand. He looks at Kursed as his look becomes angered. He feels another tear coming up. He turns his back on Amrish and waves him off.
'I understand Tim. You're honorably discharged from the Cornerian Army with immediate admittance. Your services were of great meaning for turning the tide in the horrible war.'
'I'm Spectre. Tim died in Titanpolis.'
Amrish notches and walks away. As he disappears with his guards in the sandstorm again, Spectre turns around. He gazes at the photograph. She sees Kursed being pulled away by another fox as Phantom's ship takes up the rest of the photo. He grabs his machete, sees himself in the large blade. His right eye has become a scope for a sniper rifle. Handy at times, but mostly a memory to the horrible event on the Polis Plaza, almost two years ago. He can still feel the horrendous pain of a laser penetrating his eye and skull.
*They could barely save me…' He looks at Kursed. 'But when I'm done, no one can save you! Not even Starfox!* he thinks as he stabs his machete in Kursed' face.
A sudden pull wakes her up. She opens her turquoise blue eyes and sees the Sector Y formation shine a bright greenish-orange light into the room.
*The Great Fox…*
Her purple suit and boots are still lying on the floor. The note is also still present. She tries to stand up, but something holds her back. It's warm, somewhat muscular and also hairy. Her blanket lays somewhere, but not over her. Suddenly, a paw is lays itself on her shoulder. The paw is brownish red. Then she remembers; it's Fox who lies beside her and doesn't let her go.
*Did we… do it? No, I feel special, but nothing else. We simply got exhausted from thanking each other.* She blushes.
She crawls closer to Fox until her back touches him. He opens one eye and sees her crawl closer. He smiles a little and goes back to pretending to sleep. Fox's grip around her becomes tighter.
*He uses himself to keep me feel warm and safe. Devotion, never letting me go, all for me. Now I'am sure: Kursed is dead, I'm Krystal.* She closes her eyes again.
*I love you Krystal.* thinks Fox.
*I love you too, Fox.* thinks Krystal as she reads his mind. *I know are awake…*