Star Crossed [an old and terrible Star Fox fanfic]

C19 - Fox On The Run

Fox McCloud stepped around a corner, stealthily looking out for any guards that might get in his way. He wasn't entirely sure what his overarching goal was, now that he had managed to escape the prisons of Bolse, but there was a much more immediate task at hand: the repossession of his uniform, or some sort of clothing.

Yes, Fox McCloud, one of the most celebrated pilots in the known universe, was now romping around in his underwear, after having shed his unsightly rag of a medical gown. As vulnerable and near-naked as he felt, due to him being... well, near-naked, he was at the very least successful, all thanks to the blaster pistol he stole from Wolf on his way out of his treatment room. He either snuck up to a guard to blast a non-lethal zap their way, or simply used the element of surprise. Most of all, there was no siren to be sounded, for there were no conscious guards in this vulpine's path to raise such alarm.

On this conquest, he'd so far been able to find a bathroom, then take a trip to the guards' cafeteria to get a stale but well-eaten sandwich. The contraband room he was looking for was yet to be found. It was something about one guard in particular, though, that he crucially noticed after blasting him; He was wearing a uniform of the same size. Bending down, he quickly stripped this guard, who was too not-conscious to care.

And thus, with the zipping-up of the uniform and the lowering of the heavy helmet onto his vulpine head, Fox McCloud became just another guard at the small Bolse prison complex. The first one to report his own escape, to boot. "Red alert, red alert, one two three check check check, McCloud is conscious in the prison wing, I repeat, McCloud is conscious in the prison wing," he used a comically high and nasal voice to detail into the helmet's microphone.

"Sweet Lylat, what was that you said?" a familiar voice came over the other end. It was Andrew, baffled at what he was hearing. "What's the situation?"

"He compromised Wolf, and is currently running around in his underwear blasting guards with a stolen laser gun, over," Fox detailed with a wide, wide grin on his face.

"You... HAVE... to be kidding me," the younger Oikonny said on the other end. "How many guards did he get? Is he still out there?"

"I've counted at least sixteen one-six fallen, though they looked non-lethal, over, check check, are you reading?" Fox had to restrain his diaphragm from giggling.

"I read you. Stand guard, I'll meet you at your current location," Andrew signed off, and alarms started to blare not too long after. Keeping his word, the monkey eventually trotted quickly around the corner, pistol at ready. "I tried to look around for him, but he's probably going for the contraband wing."

"Should we head there?" McCloud asked. This was far too easy.

"He'd be dangerous if he got to it. I already assigned anyone still able to guard that room, though I fear our numbers might be smaller now," Andrew detailed. "Your sub-commanders Dengar and Powalski will be there, too, but you said Wolf was compromised?"

"Yes sir," Fox replied, following the primate to the contraband room. A handful of guards stood there, along with the bumbling pair of recently-arrived Star Wolf guards. Pigma gave a brief, clumsy salute, as Leon nudged him.

"Alright!" Andrew immediately barked, stomping. "Leon. Pigma. Guards. We need to keep ourselves vigilant," he spoke over the wailing alarms. "Fox McCloud, our prisoner of war, and the very person our Emperor is expecting to be executed before his eyes, is now loose and armed."

Fox gently nudged himself into the room they were guarding, and immediately within it saw his uniform, and all his possessions. He stepped, ever so quietly, out of his borrowed guard uniform, and back into his team's one. It felt like coming home after a vacation... He pulled out his pistol, then Wolf's, and opened the door.