"Six to Bereavement" Preview

When the time comes, don’t hesitate. Just act.

As he lay on his bed, the clock at his bedside displaying in neon-red letters 2:03 AM, the words echoed in Fox’s head. He stared at the ceiling, and what he saw looming back at him were scattered images of aparoids and Wolfens that only became more pressing when he closed his eyes.

He had long since given up on sleep.

The others had told him not to worry about Wolf. Easy enough for them to say, he thought. That he was only alive because of a man whom he had almost killed three—or was it four?—times was a sobering thought. He hadn’t had much time to think about it during the rest of the fight against the aparoids, but now that the war was over, it returned to him full-force, bolstered by the words that had spurred him to action only yesterday. Who would’ve thought that Wolf O’Donnell would be, by the transitive property, the man who saved the Lylat system from the aparoids? Fox certainly wouldn’t have been able to do it himself.

Now that he’d gotten himself started on that again, he knew that there was no way he was going to sleep naturally tonight. Funny, he thought; he’d hit the bed more tired and stressed than he’d been in his entire life, and now he felt perfectly awake. He could go for a walk, he supposed. Maybe check up on the progress of the trip. But he knew that they wouldn’t be getting back to Zoness for at least another day, so it would be pointless. Everyone else would be asleep by now, so there was no way he could rouse Falco for a midnight game of billards. Even if doing something like that were possible, Fox ached all over and wasn't sure that he would be up for it.

Deciding that it was best to ache a little now and feel better tomorrow, he rose from bed and went into his private bathroom, rummaging for whatever sleep medication he could find. When he returned to his bed, his mind was empty. He fell asleep easily, thoughts of the aparoids and of Wolf slipping away from his mind, but not his dreams.


When the Great Fox landed on Zoness the next day, all of the Star Fox team was in the bridge, watching the descent. It had been a while since Fox had been to Zoness. The last time he'd come here, the place was a toxic dump, so seeing the oceans restored to their beautiful deep blue was both a shock and a relief. It was even more shocking and relieving when Fox stepped out into the tropical weather and saw the beauty of the planet for himself.

They'd landed on a small island that he'd heard was a popular site for tourists; it also happened to be home of the best mechanic on Zoness and one of the few stations from which they could refuel. Still, as far as Fox could tell, none of the team members were in any rush to get back to Corneria, so they would probably be staying for a few days.

Fox spent most of the day doing nothing. He wandered the streets, ate some of the Kani that was so popular around the Zoness, and lounged at the seaside, letting himself recover from the mental and physical wounding he'd experienced during the war. He played a few games with Falco, of course, but other than that, he didn't see anybody from the team, which suited him fine for the moment.

That evening, he went to some popular bar that he'd been told about. He hadn't had a drink in who knew how long, and even though he hated the taste of most alcoholic beverages, he decided that he could deal with it tonight. After all, there was a cause for celebration.

But soon after he ordered his drink, he saw someone sitting in a dark corner of the place that made him forget all about it.

He was confused, unsure about he was supposed to do. He kept alternatively staring into his drink and casting glances over in the guy's direction, and once he could've sworn that he saw the glint of purple staring back at him. That made him look away and take a gulp of his drink, of which he winced at the taste.

He was pretty sure he had been found out by then, so leaving without being noticed was probably an impossibility. Instead, he summoned up what little courage he had, picked up his drink, and walked over to the guy. Glinting purple eyes followed him on the way there. Fox wordlessly sat down beside the other, setting his drink on the table and making a point to look away.

“I knew you'd come over here, pup.” Wolf had a glass of his own, and he raised it to his muzzle, taking a long draught.

“Wolf...”

The glass slammed on the table. “Look, just because I helped you out twice doesn't mean we're best buddies now, alright?”

Fox blinked, and now he turned to face the older canine. When he saw Wolf leaning back in the chair, staring at him, he realized that it was the first time he had seen the other in person. That made Fox stop and run his eyes over Wolf's lupine body, noting every feature of the guy who had been such a formidable opponent and veritable ally—although now, looking at him, that last part seemed completely unbelievable.

Wolf was even more intimidating out of the cockpit that he was in it. He was tall, even sitting down, and his shoulders were broad; he looked strong, though he lacked the overly-bulky look of a bodybuilder. Though Wolf had few scattered scars, there was a certain tension in his posture that belied a deeper wound than could come from battle.

“What?”

Wolf's voice snapped Fox out of his reverie. He'd been staring. He shook it off as nothing, though, and said, “You're straight to the point.”

“I don't want you to go around thinking we're pals, okay? Now what do you want?”

Fox said the first thing that came to mind. “Why are you here?”

“Probably the same reason you're here. To relax, refuel and repair and all that stuff.” He took a sip from whatever he was drinking. “Panther's off with some girl and who knows what or who Leon's doing.” He paused for a second, looking off into the distance, then swiveled to face Fox. “Where's bird-brain?”

“How am I supposed to know, and why do you care?”

Wolf shrugged, but his ears flickered. “Just because I asked doesn't mean I care. Ever heard of being polite?”

“Yeah, you tell me we're enemies and then try to make small talk with me. You're so polite.” He huffed, and looked away, then muttered under his breath, “Hypocrite.”

He held that pose for a few minutes, occasionally taking a sip out of his glass. It still tasted horrible, but he kept going back to it because it was something to do other than sit in silence, waiting for the other to speak. He finally gave up and faced Wolf to tell him he was leaving, but he saw that Wolf was staring at him and the older canine looked away immediately.

Fox decided not to say anything about that. Instead, he got up as if to leave, and did a double-take when Wolf got up as well.

“Are you stalking me now?”

Wolf said nothing, but growled and bared his teeth. Taking that as a cue, Fox exited the bar. As soon as he was out, he noted that Wolf was still following him and slipped into the nearest dark alley he could find. His heart pounded.

As soon as he was sure that they were out of sight from any bypassers, Fox spun around and lunged at Wolf, but the other rammed into him and knocked him on the ground. Stars exploded in Fox's vision when his head collided with the hard cement, and when his vision cleared—

A knife.

Fox drew in a quick breath. Wolf was straddling him, a blade drawn and its tip gleaming at Fox's throat. But on closer inspection, he saw that the other's breathing was labored, and the knife was shaking in his hand as if it were struggling to break free of his grasp.

And then the knife fell to the floor with a deafening clang, and to Fox's great surprise, Wolf got off him, stood up, and walked away.

“Wait!” Fox called. Wolf's body twitched, and he slowly turned around.

“What?!”

Fox got himself up so that he was sitting with his legs crossed. His head ached too much for him to stand, both from the impact and the questions. “What just happened?”

“You're alive, McCloud. You should be kissing my boots.”

The contradictions were overwhelming; Fox sat tongue-tied for a few moments before saying, “You're not making any sense. What's going on?”

“You're a smart guy,” Wolf said. “Figure it out.”

At that, he began walking again, and none of Fox's protests could stop him.