Author's Note: "You can't make Wolfox work", someone said to me once and I took that personally. Anyways, here's my Wolfox fic, which will be multi-chapter and is a divergence from my ficverse. OCs and headcanons from Fate's Decree may pop in every so often. But this is a standalone fic otherwise and everything borrowed from my usual ficverse will be explained.

This one I'm personally dedicating to the Wolfox shippers in the Sargasso Hideout and Lylat's Orbital Gate Discord servers. Thanks for encouraging/enabling me to write this and I hope you enjoy.


Chapter 1: Cities in Space and Dreary Days

THE GREAT FOX II, SOMEWHERE IN THE LYLAT SYSTEM -

When his alarm went off, he let it ring for a few long seconds before finding the energy in his arm to lift and smash a fist down on the button to shut it off. His green eyes stared at the ceiling, looking at the way one of the panels was threatening to fall off onto the metal bedroom floor. Fox supposed he should fix that but he supposed that about a lot of things. The Great Fox II was in a pitiful state of disrepair and normally, Fox would have seen to every problem enthusiastically. But his energy levels had largely waned since Falco and Slippy had left. Now he listened to the hum-drum of the engines as they drifted through space, waiting for calls to come in. Though on this side of the Lylat System, it was blissfully quiet. Which was bad for business, Fox thought, massaging his eyelids and forcing himself to sit up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, back hunched over. The stench of the room was something that he had gotten used to over time. Cold sweat in the sheets, a lack of dusting, and a mountain of soda cans next to his desk—it made for a pathetic sight for James "Fox" McCloud Jr. But this was the life he led now. No Peppy or Krystal to chastise him about cleaning his room. No Falco or Slippy to get rid of the silence. Just him. Just Fox.

His bleary eyes looked to his alarm again. It was tempting to go back to bed but sleeping didn't earn credits and a better part of himself knew better. He got up and he asked himself if he really needed to shower. It was Peppy's voice chiding him that made him do it. He thought it would serve to wake him up more and while the cold hit of the water did do that, Fox found himself wavering between a veritable maze of thoughts and the present. He went through the motions of cleaning himself. And then he stepped out of the shower and into the cold. A chill ran through him as he dried himself off, wrapped a towel around his waist, then began picking through his outfits. He selected an orange-yellow jumpsuit this time, grabbed his cream-toned jacket, and wrapped his crimson scarf around his nape. For a moment, he stared at the mirror, at the tiredness of his eyes and way his wet fur clung together in clumps. A profound sadness stabbed at his heart and he tried to banish it by sucking in a breath and striking up a pose.

"Fox McCloud of the Star Fox…" he began, voice trailing off. 'Team' should have been the last word. But he supposed it was less of a team these days. "… Just Fox."

Fox sighed, ears drooping then headed out the door for the bridge.

ROB was still around and the android often served as a way for the vulpine to stave off insanity in the quiet of his solitary lifestyle. Unfortunately, ROB was largely programmed to serve various functions, not talk. And that made it difficult to keep up conversations when his AI simply did not know how to continue along with smalltalk.

On that particular day, ROB was manning the bridge and ensuring that the Great Fox II did not meet an untimely death upon the side of an asteroid or a moon. Fox glanced to the android as he walked in. He was not at the controls but was nearby, running diagnostics on some of the Great Fox II's internal systems.

"Good morning, ROB!" Fox said, voice cracking slightly from lack of use.

"Good morning, Fox," came ROB's reply. Fox offered him a weak smile before sliding into the pilot's chair.

Fox tried to peer over ROB's shoulder to see what he was fiddling with. "Everything all right with the mothership?"

"Affirmative. Update installation in process," ROB chimed.

"Ah, roger that," Fox said. "Anything happen overnight?"

"Retrieving Great Fox II log… Retrieving… retrieving…" ROB beeped then said. "ALL INTERNAL SYSTEMS… CHECKED. FUEL TANK FLAGGED. It would seem the Great Fox II is in need of more fuel cells. Route was altered to accommodate for fuel cell pick up. Route altered at 02:00 Corneria Time."

Fox sighed, thinking of the credits he would have to spend to keep the Great Fox II afloat. Maybe it would be cheaper to dock somewhere and rent hanger space until work kicked up again? He could find a planet rife with troubles and stay there for a bit. Papetoon was always neck-deep in outlaws. Maybe he could reach out and see if Fara had any extra work for him.

"Where're we headed?" Fox asked ROB.

"The current destination is Zenith Station," came ROB's reply.

"Zenith?" Fox remarked. "I don't think I've heard of that one."

"Zenith Station is the closest station to our proximity. Per prerogative, it was the destination selected," ROB said and Fox furrowed his brow.

He pulled out his phone and opened up the internet app. The search engine 'Beagle' popped up and he typed in Zenith Station's name. When nothing came up, his mouth dipped into a frown. Fox looked back at ROB in concern. "Are you sure that's where we're headed?"

"Affirmative."

"Hmm… What's the next closest station?"

"The next optimal station is located on Zoness."

"And that's three times the distance. Ugh. I don't know if we'd even make it that far. All right, let's hit up this Zenith Station. And hope it's not some hive of space pirates. That's the last thing I wanna deal with," Fox replied as he leaned back in his chair.

Zenith Station. Well, the name sounded hopeful enough. This far from Corneria, he assumed it was an independent colony—those had become more and more frequent as time had gone on. Overpopulation was starting to be a problem on some planets, who lacked the resources to sustain the population growth. Some planets had decided to make their own colonies that orbited alongside their moons. Some independent corporations had decided to make their own stations as well, acting as waypoints for travelers to rest and stay. It was odd that the station had not shown up on the search engine but perhaps it was newly-made? There was one way to find out and though Fox braced himself for the worst, there was nothing he could possibly do to prepare himself for what was soon to come.


THE RUSTY NICKLE, ZENITH SPACE STATION -

Living a life of crime was like committing to having an entire existence on a rollercoaster. It had its ups. And then it had its terrifying downs. Star Wolf was in the middle of one of their downs, the worst yet in fact. Losing Sargasso Station had meant losing their troops, their comfy hideout, their bar (stars, above, not the bar), and almost all of their resources. Most of the goons Wolf had kept in his employ had gone on to other things. It was the natural way of things after the aparoids had decided to rip their base to shreds, leaving little in a way of a home. Wolf had thought to rebuild it all but it was a costly affair and he had been knocked from his not-so-proverbial throne as Lord O'Donnell. Now, he was just Wolf again, near penniless with his pride damaged. And he was not sure which was worse—being taken down a few notches or being broke.

Neither things helped his drinking habit. He guzzled down a beer with the foam clinging to his muzzle. The tavern of his choice was the Rusty Nickle, an old-timey bar that reminded him of Eladard. It was one of the few bars on the space station, which was called Zenith or something—he didn't know too much about it but Panther did. The feline was astonishingly well-connected, enough to get them free board for some time. Panther had convinced the station's owner that Star Wolf had been robbed of the credit for ending the aparoid invasion. And without Sargasso around anymore, Star Wolf was bereft of a place to stay. And they were heroes, goddamn it. Heroes the Cornerians so happened to "forget" about in favor of their golden boy Fox McCloud. Fortunately, people at Zenith there didn't care too much for the Cornerians so they were not entirely difficult to convince. And now they could see their "saviors" in their full glory. As pitiful of a glory as it was.

"Wolf," Leon said, nasally tone filled with disgust. He had crept up on him at some point—a nasty habit of his that Wolf disliked. The gray-furred merc lowered the mug, side-eyeing the reptile and prompting him to continue. "How many beers have you had today?"

"Two," Wolf replied frostily.

"It's noon," Leon pointed out. "And yet you're already drinking."

"Your point?" Wolf asked.

"Tch," Leon's hands went to his thin hips. "You already know our financial situation cannot support your newfound drinking habit, Wolf. Now, I've just spoken to the local mechanic and our Wolfens have been re-tuned and repaired. I paid him in full. So you cannot be having a third beer."

A growl rose in his throat but Wolf stifled it with a swig. "So we can start taking jobs again, huh?"

"Yes. Though I would caution against another on Titania. The goras did a number on our ships the last time we were there and I care not to visit that place again. Even with its lovely sunlight and balmy temperature," Leon said and Wolf smirked.

"Don't gotta tell me twice."

"Panther did mention Cecilia might have a job for us. He did not give any specifics."

Cecilia Stardust. An enigmatic woman and proprietor of Zenith Station. Panther's old contact from before his days on Star Wolf. If he was honest, Wolf was not sure what to make of her. She was an arctic fox, fur white as snow with a set of devilish amber eyes that cut like glass through anyone in her presence. Wolf wasn't cowed easily but Cecilia Stardust made his heart flutter in a way it had not in years—and not in a good way, either. But still, if Cecilia wanted to give them cash, he would not say no. And keeping Star Wolf on her good side made for a far better time than making even more enemies.

"A lead's a lead," Wolf said to his reptilian wingmate and finished the rest of his beer.

"That it is," Leon nodded, steadily staring at his boss. "Shall we see what it is?"

"Yeah," Wolf said, slipping from the stool at the bar and sliding the appropriate cash to the barkeeper.

As he stepped out, his right knee gave a sharp pain and he grimaced. Another remnant of the aparoid fight. When their Wolfens had nearly been blown to smithereens, he had sustained a few injuries. His right leg still bugged him from it all but he did not want to complain. Not in front of Leon, at the least—he knew Leon was a worrywart and he did not have the patience to be nagged.

Panther was located outside of the tavern quite conveniently. His yellow eyes lit up, spying his two wingmates. The feline hurried over, brushing past some conversing locals in the metal-incased hallway of Zenith Station. Wolf noted he was already suited up in his usual flight gear, blaster hung at his hip.

"Well, you look ready to go," Wolf remarked. "What's this job Cecilia wants us to do?"

"Ha! And you look ready to be tossed out of a bar," Panther smirked at him and Wolf scowled, self-consciously smoothing his light-gray mohawk. The feline crossed his arms over his chest. "Ceci has a bit of a pest problem and she's requested a group of exterminators."

"I'm listening," Wolf said.

"A gang of thugs landed at Zenith a few weeks back. They said they would just be here for a small bit between jobs. But they're still here and it's come to light that they're reporting to a local warlord. Duke Mandrill."

"Oh, great," Wolf said sourly. "He was one of Andross's old generals, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Leon confirmed with a curt nod. "He contested your leadership at Sargasso and Andrew's rise to power. But only verbally. Still, I hear he's accumulated quite the army by himself."

"Not all bark, huh?" Wolf remarked and Leon nodded again.

"He owns an independent station not far from here. I think he's looking to monopolize the area," Panther replied. "And so does Ceci. The rats are likely spies meant to infiltrate and sabotage the station in some way. And we're to… see them out the door. The door being the airlock."

"Sounds simple enough. Especially if these rats have been ID'd already," Wolf said. "Er… are they actual rats or we just callin' 'em rats?"

"Both," Panther confirmed and Wolf laughed.

"Sometimes the jokes just write themselves, I guess. Well, we got files on these guys or what?"

"Digital files," Panther said, pulling out his phone. "I will forward them.

"Understood," Wolf replied, also pulling out his phone.

A chime indicated the files had been sent over and Wolf opened them, looking at a series of pictures that had been taken from the security checkpoint in Zenith's hanger. They were not the clearest images but they sufficed enough. Cecilia had even gone through the trouble of uncovering each of their names. Most of them were rodents, Wolf noted as he flicked through the images. Duke Mandrill at least had the foresight to not send any apes—maybe that would have been too obvious. The haughty baboon thought himself the next Andross, though Wolf was certain his intelligence was beyond being called into question. Mandrill was ruthless but he was no genius—not like Andross but no one was really like Andross, Wolf supposed.

"I assume they're not gonna conveniently be in the same location, huh?" Wolf asked, glancing up to Panther.

The ebony jaguar smirked. "No but I already know the location of our first target. And with the right amount of pressure, I am certain we can get him to sing like a canary."

Leon grinned deviously, the sharp tips of his teeth visible in a cruel smile.

"Alright, where's he at?" Wolf asked.

"One of them got a job at hanger maintenance. A rat known under the moniker of Wily Willy," Panther replied. "He sweeps and takes out the garbage during the day then reports the comings and goings to Duke Mandrill."

"An ideal place to be," Leon considered aloud. "Particularly for an invasion. He would have access to lowering the barrier leading into the hanger."

"Then let's pay him a visit, shall we?" Wolf smirked, slipping his phone into his pocket. He already had his blaster on him and he suspected that was all the arming he would need to take out a rat like Wily Willy. "Lead on, Panther."

The trip to the hanger was no quick jaunt across the street. Zenith Space Station was a massive construct, built vertically, in a manner that reminded Wolf of Sargasso. It was a city trapped in thick blast-proof glass and light silver metal harvested from nearby Eladard. Massive floors had been built, each with a designated purpose. There was a maintenance floor to the bottom of the station, where the generators were stored along with the oxygen supply. The next floor up was the Hanger District, divvied up into eight individual hangers with ample room in each. The Necessities District was the next floor, which held a medic bay, a jail, and chapel—for the few religious sorts around. It even had some fake grass installed for the aesthetic, though Wolf had thought it looked hilariously cheap. Commerce District was their current location—an entire floor dedicated to whatever one needed during their stay at Zenith. Food, drink, clothes, luxury items—it was a glorified mall with its vendors located in rooms jutting off the side of a large, looping hall. The Residential District sat above that – where they all rented their rooms. And then came the Entertainment District—a floor dedicated to the local casino, amphitheater, and boxing ring. Lastly lay the Administrative District at the very top, the smallest floor where Cecilia and her goons ran the entire station.

When Wolf had first arrived at Zenith, he thought it looked like a beehive. It bustled just like one too. It was full of people who didn't like the planet life. Not with all the nasty politics and the sometimes harsh climates. Cecilia had opened this place after spending what Wolf was certain was an exuberant amount of cash. He could only wonder what the Cornerian authorities thought of it, especially being so close to their turf. Wolf smirked at the thought of Pepper growing gray at the notion of an independent colony then he remembered Pepper was basically done after the aparoid invasion. It was good ol' Peppy Hare now calling the shots back on Corneria. From lowly soldier to merc-for-hire to General of the largest military power in the Lylat System. Funny how things worked out.

They took a lift from Commerce District A to the hanger. The ride was long as they descended down one of the many glass tubes feeding people onto different districts. Wolf leaned against the wall, trying to not put weight on his injured knee. For some reason, it was bothering him more and more lately, though why Wolf could not be certain. He supposed it would be wise to visit one of the medics down in the Necessities District but that required time and coin he was not sure that he had (coin for alcohol was a different story, of course). What if it was serious? What if it was an expensive fix? Wolf did not want to think about that. He only wanted to think about getting through to the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that.

The elevator dinged and Wolf looked up to see the doors shift open. The Hanger District, where their fuel and ships were kept. The Wolfens had been stashed in Hanger G; Wolf thought about swinging by to look at his prized baby, who had seen so much since her construction on Macbeth during the Lylat Wars. But he knew they had to keep an eye out for Wily Willy (god damn, what an awful name that was).

"Any idea where he might be?" Wolf asked Panther in a quiet tone as they walked the hall that threaded between the hangers.

"Anywhere on this floor," Panther grunted. "Hopefully somewhere secluded. Oh, I forgot to mention - Ceci wants us to keep it as bloodless and quiet as possible. Murder is usually not good in front of the guests, she says."

Wolf rolled his eye. "Picky woman."

"I'm sure you can appreciate how to run a business, Wolf," Panther remarked.

"Yeah, well, if she cares so much about Mandrill tryin' to make a move on her place, she'll appreciate whatever help we give 'er."

"We should have let you drink one more beer. It would have put you in a better mood. Though it may not have done your aim many favors."

"Shuddup. I'm a great shot when I gotta be."

"Mmm, I am afraid I cannot vouch for that. Leon?"

The chameleon remained silent. Wolf's upper lip curled into a scowl. "Enough chit-chat. Find Willy and let's bag 'em."

"Shall we split up to cover more ground?" Panther asked and Wolf gave a curt nod.

"I'll take hangers A through C. Leon, take D through F. Panther, you check G and H. As soon as you see Willy, let us know. Do not engage until we're present," Wolf said to them and the three dispersed.

Wolf began towards Hanger A, pulling his phone and checking the picture of Wily Willy once more. He was a brown-furred rat with a crooked snout, dressed in a dark teal janitor's garb. An easy find, Wolf thought to himself. Zenith was home to just about every species under Lylat but the uniform would make it easy to spot him in a crowd. Wolf took a left at the hallway leading to Hanger A. A short escalator ride took him to the doors feeding into the massive hanger. The air was chilly here and Wolf nestled a bit further into his coat, looking across the stretch of parked ships. Hanger A was largely reserved for merchants stopping by to sell their wares at Zenith, thus the ships were a hodgepodge in terms of size and style. Some were massive, nearly as big as his old carrier from the Lylat Wars. Some were small, barely big enough to fit sleeping quarters within.

Wolf passed by the first three, remarking to himself about their builds and the ways they had been modified. Merchant ships off the production line were expensive—so expensive, even, that the average business could not possibly hope to afford one. That was where scrapping and mods came in. Some people bought old junk and had it fixed up to ferry them across the solar system. Wolf had been in that business once, a long time ago. Swiping parts off of old wrecks to sell back to customers who wanted to customize their own ships. It had been a rough life but there had been a simplicity about it that Wolf missed.

His knee ached but Wolf pressed through it. His hand was on his phone, waiting for a buzz from one of the other two as he walked the hanger. No eye contact, just a simple, blank gaze ahead. He did not want the other pilots to think anything was amiss. Not that many folks paid much attention to him. Sure, he had gotten stares from some civilians when he had first arrived. But people at Zenith had a tendency to keep their noses where they belonged. And frankly, Star Wolf having no station of their own had made them lose pertinence. They were has-beens, a bitter fact Wolf was still wrestling with. He told himself it was just temporary. But getting out of the ditch was an uphill climb… one he was not sure he had the energy left to for.

A buzz from his phone startled him and Wolf quickly checked it to see if the others had found their target. Panther had been the one to send the message. It was an image in their group chat, a selfie of Panther throwing a peace sign next to a pair of trash cans. It read "Just out with the boys on another job, haha. 3". Leon messaged him back.

LP: ?

PC: fUCK, that was supposed to go to Pawstagram.

LP: …

WO: Panther

PC: Yeah boss?

WO: Shut the fuck up and get back to lookin or I'm gonna kick ur ass

Wolf scoured the rest of Hanger A with a slight scowl about his muzzle. No Willy-Wily… Wily-Wily… Willy… whatever in sight. Hanger B was his next target, located across the hall diagonally from A. It was another merchant hanger, though this time, Wolf saw one of the merchants unloading some of their wares. Clothing items were being pushed out on silver racks by dull-eyed employees. Wolf was content to pass them by until he caught sight of his quarry. The rat stood off to the side of the ship, pushing a trash can along. Wolf watched for a moment, trying not to be suspicious but unable to take his eyes off his prey. The rat scratched his ass, gave a hiccup, and then, faster than Wolf could even process, tossed something small, pentagonal, and dark at the ship's hull.

Is that… a bomb?

His ears went back for a moment then he pulled his phone as he wandered passed the ship.

WO: Hanger B.

LP: Is he alone?

WO: Think so. Put a device on a merchant ship. Panther, did Cecilia say shit about these guys being terrorists?

PC: Errrr no?

WO: Well. I think they're terrorists. Think he just put a bomb on the ship.

LP: They put a bomb on the ship? Oh dear…

PC: Do you know it's a bomb? What if it's a tracker?

WO: I can't get eyes on it without spookin the target.

LP: Panther, let's head to B

PC: Omw

And now came the tricky part – keeping Willy in his sights at all times while not looking suspicious. Wolf doubled back from the hanger, feigning disinterest in everything around him and looking as though he were scrolling on his phone. Willy carried on, moving to the far side of the ships and skirting along the wall. With his half-vision, Wolf struggled to angle his head inconspicuously towards the rodent. Eventually, the rat did come to a stop to mop up a spill on the far side. Wolf seized the opportunity to get closer to what the rat had left behind on the merchant ship.

It was hard to say exactly what the device was. It was flat and about half of the size of Wolf's palm. It did not give off noise or light except for a ring of white lights that seemed to indicate that it had been activated. He backed up warily, hoping to not be spotted by anyone as he meandered along in thought.

Looks more like a tracker than an explosive. Why track a merchant ship, though? Bombing it makes more sense. Maybe we should have Ceci get ready for an attack here. Maybe she could get everyone out so no bystanders get hurt. But that's gonna alert the target. He might blow the ship up before anyone can leave…

Leon and Panther came through the door and Wolf looked back at where Willy was mopping away. They would need to get him out of the hanger and out of sight before they started interrogating him. Wolf approached the two, Leon's eyes already locked on the target.

"Panther, lure him into the hall," Wolf instructed.

"Me? Why me?" Panther asked, ears back.

"Because I dunno what to say to the guy and Leon sure as hell isn't the pick for the job," Wolf replied and the reptile gave a soft hiss of disdain. "Leon an' I will get the jump on 'em when he's outta the hanger."

"Very well," the black-furred jaguar rolled his amber eyes. As he began towards the janitor, Wolf and Leon stepped onto the escalator that fed into the central corridor that ran between the hangers.

"Did you see the device?" Leon asked in a low voice.

"Yeah. Still dunno if it's a bomb or tracker. Thinking tracker but I can't imagine why," Wolf replied in an equally quiet tone. "It's just a damn merchant ship, right? Why bother trackin' it? I mean, I saw 'em moving the wares myself and it wasn't like they're packing anything important."

"Perhaps he will tip Mandrill off and Mandrill will send some of his men to rob it?" Leon suggested.

"Over some overalls?" Wolf wrinkled his snout.

"P-perhaps it is trendy to him?" Leon suggested once more with the shrug of his shoulders.

"I'm sure as hell not sold on that," Wolf snorted. "Just hoping my guess is correct because if it's an explosive…"

"Everyone in the hanger could be in danger," Leon replied. "And if such a device were to go off in a place like the maintenance floor…"

"The station's generator," Wolf frowned. "Makes sense but you'd think they'd have already tried that by now. No, they want something in particular and it requires the station being afloat."

"Troubling…" Leon mused.

Soon enough, Panther and Willy came into sight, passing through the doors with the feline absolutely charming the pants off the crooked-nosed rat. Panther gave a hearty laugh, a paw at his chest. Willy also was laughing, though looked a bit unnerved as the feline clapped his back cheekily.

Wolf braced himself, looking from the rat to a nearby storage room. A quick grab and bash, he told himself. It would be easy. At least that's what he thought until the rat's head swiveled in his direction, eyes snapping wide. He started to run but Panther's hand on his back caught him. Claws unsheathed, the feline gripping him by the back of the uniform. Wolf flung the storage room door open and Panther chucked the rat inside. The rodent stumbled about, hitting the narrow walls of the storage room, his foot going into a mop bucket.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Willy yelped.

"What'd you put on that merchant's ship?" Wolf asked, the barrel of his blaster pressed against the rat's nose.

"I ain't put nothin'!" Willy protested.

"I won't ask twice," Wolf bared his fangs, shoving the rat's nose with his gun.

"A'ight, a'ight!" Willy snapped. "I put a fukken tracker on the ship. Okay? It's just tracker!"

Wolf felt partially relieved at that but it still left a lot of questions. "Yeah? And what for?"

" 'Cause them's was the orders!" the rat sneered. "Look I dunno 'is name, a'ight? He uses a funky voice changer! Tells me ta do shit."

"You make a habit of following the instructions of man you don't even know?" Panther quirked a disbelieving brow.

"I din't say I din' know 'im. Look, what does Star Wolf want with this, eh?" Willy asked.

"I think we are the ones who should be asking the questions," Leon hissed.

"None ya damn business," Wolf sneered at Willy. "How about you start talkin' about your pals. I know you been snooping around Zenith and Cecilia's not exactly oblivious to it either. Start tellin' me where I can find your buddies and maybe I'll put in a good word for ya. If not, ya go out the airlock."

Willy's eyes snapped wide. "A'ight… a'ight… take it easy, fella… Look, we take orders from the Boss. I dunno who 'e is, though. But we always get updates every Cornerian Tuesday in the Necessities District. I can't rightly describe the spot though. Could show it ta ya, if ya want."

An escort is certainly better than a lame description.

"All right," Wolf scowled. "Show us the way, pal. And no funny business."

"Right, right…" Willy said and with Wolf's blaster still trained on him, they began to file out of the storage room.

Wolf backed out first, blaster lowered but still in-hand. Leon came next. Then Panther, who had a firm grip on Willy's shoulder. The rat sidled out, tripping. Or at least Wolf thought he was tripping. A flash of a smile crossed the rodent's face as he pulled Panther's gun from its holster. A shot into the feline's leg downed him and as Leon went to pull his own gun, the rat slammed him into the wall. Wolf fired—a miss. And then the rat went sprinting down the hall.

"Damn it!" snarled Wolf as he charged after the rat, Panther's agonized yelps echoing down the hall. The soft rhythm of Leon's footsteps could be heard from behind, along with another angry hiss. Willy shoved a pair of civilians into the nearby wall and darted down the escalator to Hanger C.

So much for being subtle, Wolf thought with a wince, chasing after the guy and popping off a shot as he ran down the escalator. When his feet hit the floor, two long strides saw him to the doors. Wolf barreled through them, spying Willy scrambling down the hanger. At the far end, the doors had opened, revealing the vivid orange forcefield that protected those inside from being sucked into the starry abyss. Passing through the barrier was a white ship with red accents—some rickety old Cornerian vessel. Wolf paid it no mind, doggedly running after Willy with teeth gnashed. A few vigorous steps later and he felt his knee twinge. His next step on that leg felt unstable and he wobbled, a curses flying from his mouth as his mind screamed.

No, not now!


THE GREAT FOX II, APPROACHING ZENITH STATION -

"APPROACHING… ZENITH SPACE STATION…" ROB chimed, as if Fox did not have a perfectly good set of eyes that could easily see the space station from the front window.

Zenith Space Station was shaped akin to a cylinder with thick rings marking its length, spaced out evenly. Some rings appeared to be larger than others. Lights decorated its silver exterior, shining a bright yellow-gold like flecks of sunlight in the midst of space. As the Great Fox II drew closer, Fox felt his guard start to rise. A hailing came in—that was no surprise. Fox accepted it.

"This is Zenith Tower Control, state your name and business."

"My name is Fox McCloud," Fox said, the rust in his voice obvious. He cleared his throat. "This is space carrier C867, Great Fox II, requesting landing permissions. I am here to fuel up and will be on my way."

"Affirmative. Granting landing access to Hanger C. C867, Great Fox II, you have been granted clearance."

The feed went silent and Fox spared a look towards ROB, feeling as though this was either going to be a blessing in disguise or the worst decision the android could have made while he was sleeping. Undocumented colonies… he shuddered to think what kind of madness lay within the station's walls. He decided it would be best to fuel up and leave immediately. Fox did not want to risk getting caught up in trouble. He told himself to keep his head low and his eyes wide open.

The Hanger C doors opened and Fox steered the Great Fox II towards them. Though his mothership was quite massive, the hanger seemed to have been designed to accommodate such bulky vessels. Fox was glad, and even a bit impressed; the station seemed well-funded and well-managed, even if it was outside of Corneria's jurisdiction. Or so he presumed.

When the Great Fox II passed through the barrier to the outside, the world was colored orange for a moment. Fox guided the ship to a place that had been designated for him to land at. The ship touched down gently and he breathed a small sigh before bracing himself for whatever was about to come. Unfortunately for Fox McCloud, there was no way he could have adequately prepared himself for the sight when he lowered the boarding ramp and walked over to the door to exit the carrier.

A rat stood in front of him, gun pointed directly at Fox's chest. His chest heaved as though he had been sprinting. Fox's eyes widened, ears back. The rat barked a single order.

"Hand over the ship. Now."