Potential MvP Rewrite(looking for feedback!) by FeuerfoxKA8

Potential MvP Rewrite(looking for feedback!)

Story by FeuerfoxKA8 on SoFurryDecember 2017~86 min read

FeuerfoxKA8, Action, Adventure, Human, Krystal, Sci-Fi, Starfox, Story, Violence (Not In Yiff)

Please see the notes section above. I'm definitely looking for feedback!

Notes: These are writing samples of two potential story ideas for a rewrite of my 'experimental' SI story, man Vs. Planet. It's not exactly fare that most particularly want to read, but for me it's a vehicle to experiment with; a way to experiment with different styles, characterizations, and situations that won't crop up in Zero Point. Additionally, I've wanted to use this sort of story as a vehicle to explore recent goings-on in my life as well as in the world in general, and figured that a 'reboot' would be a good way for me to(in the words of Maynard Keenan) see it again for the first time.

I'm actively looking for feedback as to which story to pursue. These are just fragments right now. The first fragment is a more or less retelling of Adventures, somewhat like MvP yet my 'avatar'(for lack of a better term) does not get to take an entire house full of stuff with him.

The second fragment is significantly more complex, taking inspiration from one of the endings of Command as well as a dead 'fic on FF called Sojurn's End by Ninjafoxshadow. In this one, Krystal is significantly older and is a renown bounty hunter on a distant planetary cluster called Kew after having left the Lylat System following her departure from both Star Fox and Star Wolf. She is hired by one of the planetary governments to perform a covert job on a less advanced planet which has been actively debated about and monitored without any sort of official first contact since its accidental discovery years ago. That's where things start going horribly wrong...

As before, I'm actively looking for feedback on which idea to pursue. Any input would be helpful. Thanks!

Fragment 1(Adventures/MvP Retelling):

I've had the wind knocked out of me on a few occasions, and I've taken a couple of pretty heavy hits to the head. I've never been knocked out before. Needless to say, I don't recommend it. I really don't know what happened. The last thing I remember was pulling off that cobblestone path to answer the call of nature. The next I was, well, somewhere.

I awoke to an excruciating headache and blurry vision. The left side of my head felt like I had taken a hook from Mike Tyson. My ribs ached when taking a breath and the damp, stale air I was breathing stank of unwashed bodies and the faint scent of what might have been piss. I wasn't entirely sure. The faint, unsettling sound of creaking wood and howling wind wasn't making me comfortable, either.

I was also pretty damn cold. Shivering, in fact. The air clung to my bare skin, revealing another fact. I had been stripped. I had been wearing clothes before, though I could tell I was at least still wearing my underwear. That was one embarrassment I didn't particularly want to endure at that point. I tried to move my hands. They were bound behind my back at the wrists; thick, crude rope that wasn't exactly going to yield to my efforts any time in the next century. My ankles were similarly bound. Despite the crushing headache that snapped me fully awake.

“What the hell?" I exclaimed as I looked around. The dimly lit scene was dismaying; somewhere between medieval torture chamber and bowels of a pirate ship. The small room I was in looked like it had been used as a stable at one point. I was lying in a bed of straw, surrounded by chest-height wooden walls. I couldn't see much past that, and the way I was trussed up I wasn't going to be able to stand. That was the icing on the irritation cake, as straw was working itself into some very sensitive areas and I was starting to itch. “This isn't funny, assholes! Now let me out of here, goddammit!" Somebody had to be responsible for this.

There wasn't a response to my calling out. I wasn't sure how long I waited, possibly half an hour. I figured I had to do something to stand up and survey my surroundings. It took a while, but I managed to scoot up against one of the walls and force myself up. The wooden wall scraped against my back and I got splinters in my palms from doing it, but I managed to get upright.

Now that I could feel my balance the gentle, unpredictable swaying that almost put me on my ass several times seemed to indicate I was on a ship of some sort. That and the creaking of wood supported that theory. The room my 'cell' was in looked like a set of stables, and comprised a pretty good chunk of the ship's deck space. There were a few haphazard crates stacked here and there. In all honesty the place was a mess. Something in particular caught my eye, a shelf near the tapered 'bow' area of the deck. Among the piles of burlap I could see a flash of blue and gray. I couldn't make it out entirely in the dim light, but was that my pants and jacket?

Another question came to mind. If that was my clothing, had I been carrying at the time? The answer was yes. If they hadn't removed everything from my pockets I should have had my phone, wallet, keys, flashlight, and pocket knife in my jacket. More importantly, my handgun and its spare magazine! I wasn't thinking clearly at that point, otherwise I would have spent more time wondering exactly how the hell I had been shanghaied when I was driving through a landlocked state. The burning question I had, however, is could I get out of here to reach it?

I was never an athlete or gymnast. I'm a somewhat overweight IT guy in my early-30s. I had a bum knee and I had been sitting at a desk job for the past few years. I'd lost even the slight edge that a more active retail job gave me. I wasn't a sedentary blob; I worked on cars as a hobby and wrenching required a decent reserve of strength and flexibility. However, trying to hook my arms over the wall of the stable and pull myself up was going to be a disaster. My ribs screamed bloody murder at me, but I somehow managed to do it. Hooking my legs underneath me I managed to shimmy partway up the wall, at least until I lost my balance. The details are a bit fuzzy; I must have slid forward and hit my head on the wall.

I awoke again in that pile of dirty straw, my head hurting even worse. Some time had apparently passed, as there was something else on the floor with me. Two bowls; one with water and one with some sort of minced-up, foul-smelling slop that was probably food. I was either being treated like a prisoner or a pack animal. The 'food' looked positively disgusting and despite feeling somewhat peckish I wasn't going to touch it. The water, however? I was thirsty, so I rolled over to it and took a drink.

I reflexively coughed. The water was brackish, almost too salty to drink. The recurring thought in my mind that I needed some sort of strength to get out of this strange predicament drove me to drink anyway. I took a second glance at the mixed, well, slop in the other bowl. “I'm not that hungry." I muttered. I gulped down the water as best I could, collapsing back onto the dirty straw when I was finished. “Fine fucking mess I got myself into." I felt like I was going to throw up, and I felt compelled to stay still until the nausea passed.

I'm not sure how long I laid there, mind racing with questions and speculation. I had gotten jumped or something, that much was obvious. But, by who? And, for what reasons? If they wanted to jack my car, they could've lifted my keys and taken off. Hell, if they wanted me dead they could have just shot me. Whoever they were, they weren't the police. This wasn't looking good. I needed to figure these details out before things got much worse. I had a feeling this was only the beginning.

I needed to get out of here. My thoughts went to my jacket, which I thought I saw across the way. After a recent carjacking in the parking garage at my office, I had taken to carrying when I could. In my state, kidnapping was a serious enough offense to allow the use of deadly force to defend against. I wanted to get home, to see my family and friends again. If that meant using a kind word and a gun, I would do it. I just had to somehow vault over that wall to do it.

I scooted up to the wall, preparing to lift myself into a standing position as I heard footfalls. They shook the floor, like they were being made with a fat man wearing clunky boots. By the sound of it, there were two of them. The identity of my captors wouldn't be a secret for long. I wished they had remained so.

They were about a foot or so taller than me; giant, stocky lizardmen in rudimentary armor. I recoiled at the sight of them; they must have had a hundred pounds on me and were likely pure muscle. I wouldn't stand a chance against them in a fair fight. “Jesus fuck!" I hissed, instinctively scooting towards the farthest corner of the stable-like structure I was in. “What the fuck are you guys?"

The lizardmen chuckled at my reaction, motioning in my direction. The one to the left started speaking; the flowing language one that sounded strangely familiar but I was still unable to make sense of it. “Iwc0 medbo0 kxadw aj jkacc ucalo. Thudb racwo nukoh. Tatd'k ouk jshufj. Nx0 no kubo ak nakx ij?"

The other one responded, peppering his dialog with pointing to me and off in a random direction. “Rejj nudkj ak veh... nxuk tat xo succ ak? Semradukaed? Sedvijaed? Ex, kxuk'j hawxk! Sedlohjaed!"

The first one slammed a brick-sized fist on the wall, causing it to shake. I yelped, gritting my teeth for what may have been the last time for all I knew. Laughter peeled from the lizardman, making another remark in its alien tongue. “Edso no tedo nakx Ouhkxnucbohj, no kubo ak ke sedlohjaed fcuso. Cok Rejj touc nakx ak. Utt ke uhm0..."

The lizardman was cut off as a violent vibration shook the entire structure, followed by a muffled explosion. Had I been standing I would have been knocked on my ass again. Another explosion rocked the structure, followed by muffled shouting coming from above. The second lizardman turned his attention from me, bellowing something in response. “Nxuk weadw ed?"

The response from above was muffled, but I could make out the words. “Wiuht fhajedoh! No roadw ukkusbot! Jemokxadw ed Sceithiddoh jxeek ij!" Two more explosions and vibrations threatened to shake the entire structure apart; it felt like something was firing rockets outside. The lizardmen looked nervous. As much as I wanted to engage in what would have been perfectly justifiable shadenfreude, the truth of the matter was I was about as scared as they looked.

The first lizardman roared back. “U Sceithiddoh? Xoho? Amfejjarco!" They moved out of sight as the structure we were in shuddered again. Their voices grew hushed as the explosions stopped. I could hear the snarling roars of what I assumed were more lizardmen, coupled with another, far softer voice shouting from above. The roars turned into pained groaning and the clanging of what could have only been melee weapons echoed. The fact there was no gunfire was alternately comforting and disturbing. There was less chance that I would get hit by a stray round, but that also meant that I would be pretty ill-equipped to deal with things if I managed to escape. I struggled against the ropes binding me, but I managed to get back into a standing position. The lizardmen had their backs to me. I fervently wished I had my piece. It would have been such an easy shot to make.

It was hard to make out what happened in the dim light; a cerulean and gold blur shot into the room through a series of stairs I could barely see. A sickening crack echoed off one of the lizardmen and it hit the deck, snarling in what had to be agony as I could see blood streaming from its temple. My attention was then transfixed to the newcomer; it was then I realized exactly where I somehow was, exactly who they were, and just how absolutely and inexplicably fucked I was.

The anthropomorphic vixen that stood in the middle of the room was a little shorter than me. Athletically built, she moved with the confidence of a dancer or MMA fighter; a disturbing snarl etched onto her features as she stared down her opponents with a look of barely suppressed fury. Her eyes were an admittedly mesmerizing shade of blue, yet even with the dim light and distance I could plainly see the flash of anger within. She was about as dressed as I was; a simple top and loincloth preserved her modesty and a set of bracers and pauldrons provided what looked like minimal protection. Her staff was held at the ready, and I noticed blotches of blood staining its business end. There was no mistaking the scene playing out before me. The lizardmen had to be Sharpclaw, the reptilian antagonists of Starfox Adventures. The female fox was Krystal, one of the protagonists of the series. Only this time she didn't look like the scared damsel in distress the game depicted. She looked like she was about to kick ass and chew bubble gum.

The Sharpclaw that she had smacked the crap out of struggled to his feet, growling threats at the vixen. She responded in kind, her voice snapping forth before she launched herself at them. She ducked a clumsily-swung club, only to hammer the Sharpclaw soldier with a fierce swat. In a move that I wasn't expecting she followed up with a vicious jab to the lizardman's throat; a nauseating crunch and a choking gurgle emitting from the fatally wounded enemy as it crumpled to the ground. My jaw dropped down in shock as she ducked another series of swings from the previously wounded surviving Sharpclaw. It let its guard down and she stabbed it in the chest, ripping the staff away in a flash of blood and gore that threatened to make me puke up the saltwater I had gulped down earlier.

“Jesus fucking Christ!" I managed to exclaim as she glanced down to her now-deceased quarry. Krystal's attention snapped from her handiwork and to me, the vixen warily making her way over to the 'stable' that held me. I wondered if I had made a fatal error in judgment; the Sharpclaw could have killed me pretty quickly but I was well aware that Krystal was on another level. She could have probably killed me before I realized it was happening.

She let the staff down, her snarling expression softening as she looked me over. I wasn't an expert in body language, but she looked wary and perhaps… curious? She reached for something on the door, a rattle of chains slipping off of something followed by a clunk on the wooden floor. The door swung open and she took a step inside. Her voice lacked the fury from earlier, a tone of concern replacing it. “Uho 0ei ebu0? 0ei ceeb adzihot!"

“I don't understand you, sorry." I responded, the hope that she somehow spoke English fading away as she decided to address me in what was obviously either Saurian or Cerinian. “Look, I know I don't look like a centerfold model and it's probably gonna take a splash of eye bleach and a bottle of top shelf tequila to get rid of the sight of my pasty ass, but I would really appreciate it if you untied me?" I figured this situation called for some sort of levity. The thought that I was in a coma or dead crossed my mind; it was the only way I could explain this particular experience. Krystal wasn't quite a Valkyrie, but I was certain there were far worse ways to spend one's dying moments.

“You speak Standard?" Krystal replied, her Estuary accent adding a touch of class to what was a confusing, horrible situation. “Are you okay? You look injured!" She stepped closer to me, her fingertips falling to the side of my head. I winced and hissed in pain as she felt around; she recoiled a bit and I could see a bit of a flush coming to her ears. “How long have you been here?"

“I… I don't know." I really didn't. A day, maybe two? “It's a blur. I don't know what happened, or why they wanted me." I was feeling pretty conscious of my rather exposed position and wasn't particularly comfortable with it. “I just want to get out of here."

“I should be able to make that happen. Turn around?" I complied, and I felt my hands being grasped. The contact was a bit shocking even if it was expected, the softness of fur a stark counterpoint to the stiff ropes that were being manipulated. In a moment my hands were free; I stifled another wince as the blood rushed back to them; the pins and needles feeling almost intolerable. My ankles were next, the ropes falling away a sheer relief.

“God, that stings." I continued to rub my wrists, leaning against the side of the stable in support. After a moment I got to my feet, following the Cerinian out of my makeshift cell. “Thank you. I owe you one." Another thought crossed my mind; following that train took me across the bottom deck of what I now realized was Scales' airship. The vixen had followed me, warily glancing towards the stairs. Things were perhaps too quiet. I was in luck for once; my clothes had been stashed in a haphazard pile on the shelf. My jacket felt heavy; patting the side confirmed the presence of my piece. “Not to be ungrateful, but could I get a little privacy? I don't particularly feel comfortable dressing in front of you."

Krystal nodded. I couldn't really decipher her expression, but the insides of her ears became a bit red. Embarrassment? “I can do that, stranger. The Queen Cloudrunner's daughter is being held on this ship. I need to free her, but that shan't take long. Meet me on the top deck when you're dressed?"

“Deal." I set my jacket aside, grabbing my pants from the shelf. As she turned around something else came to mind. “Once again, thank you. Be careful? I'll be up there to lend a hand as soon as possible." The vixen smiled, nodding in assent before bounding up the stairs. This left me alone to get rid of the worst of the straw poking into some really sensitive areas and to get dressed. After slipping my jeans on I pulled the holster out of the jacket and checked my handgun. While in the car, I typically carried my pistol in the inside pocket of my jacket or in the console. If I was going to be walking around, it went in the waistband of my pants.

My weapon of choice was a Glock 19, one of the most popular pistols for self-defense and police use. It was compact enough to be handily concealed and had decent capacity. While some considered the 9x19mm round anemic for self defense, I was proficient enough to be confident with it. I stuck the holster inside the waistband on my hip and continued dressing. While my choice of T-shirt, jeans, aloha shirt, and light jacket wasn't exactly jungle explorer gear, it was all I had. Either way, if I remembered what was going to happen in the events of the game my new vixen ally was about to get into a spot of trouble.

I couldn't hear much over the howling wind and pattering of rain, except for the thumping and clattering above deck. And, hell, it took me a little time to get dressed. It was like waking up late for the school bus, only this time I was in a goddamn video game and my ass was on the line. I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I emerged on the deck, my pistol in my hand. I had a total of thirty-one rounds. Fifteen in the magazine, one in the pipe, and one spare magazine. Against lizardmen the size of your average NFL linebacker, that didn't seem like a lot.

My Glock was all that was standing between me and certain death, though. I'd been sitting in an office cube for the past few years, growing fat and happy. I wouldn't last ten seconds up close with a Sharpclaw without it gutting me like a fish. Furthermore, their big boss was on board. Whatever was going down, I didn't think some nine-millimeter hollowpoints would be enough.

In the game, Krystal would confront Scales. He would throw her off the ship, she would be lucky enough to be caught by that Cloudrunner and they would fly off. If that happened before I caught a ride I would be forced to fight a battle I had no chance of winning. The other outcome I was worried about was her getting killed outright. As I reached the top deck I was made aware of exactly how likely that scenario was. She was fighting without her staff, now; I figured he had disarmed her somehow and tossed it over the side.

The Cerinian vixen was facing off with Scales. The fucker was at least ten feet tall and built of solid muscle. The palm of his right hand was easily larger than a dinner plate. His left was gone; in a sick and twisted parody of Captain Hook it was replaced with a twin set of blades that were about as large as short swords. Those swords swiped down, narrowly missing her as she dodged with uncanny speed. A split second later she delivered a kick aimed for his knee, which was barely deflected. She moved like greased lightning, never standing still and always going on the attack. In a split instant I know she could have put me on the floor within seconds, weapon or no.

Unfortunately for her she wasn't fighting me. She was fighting a giant lizardman that was built like a brick shithouse and fought dirty. As I closed some of the distance his hand shot out like a piston, catching Krystal by the throat and lifting her up into the downpour. He roared something in Saurian yet instead of dragging her to the railing he just stood there, watching her struggle.

I tried to get in closer, but the pitching of the deck and the sliding crates were making it hard. Neither of them seemed to notice me. I looked up after a moment and my blood ran cold as I realized exactly what Scales was doing. Krystal's struggles intensified; her legs kicking out against an arm the size of a small tree trunk, her hands desperately trying to pry his fingers away. He was going to strangle her to death.

I needed a better line of fire; fully aware of the fact if I shot and missed I would likely hit her instead. Seconds felt like minutes as I struggled over a crate, closing the distance from fifty yards to about twenty in what seemed like an eternity. Her legs had stopped kicking, her arms falling limply away from the bastard's hand. If I didn't do something now she was going to die. I steadied my Glock with my off hand, set the sights over Scales' side and started firing.

The handgun thundered its response into the storm, four loud reports echoing in the air as I made my presence known. Scales lurched a bit, dropping her as I shifted my aim upward. The little bit of training I had asserted itself. Stop the threat. The Sharpclaw General let out a growl that could have stopped a lion in its tracks, wheeling around as I was shifting the sights onto his face. I pulled the trigger again. This time he crumpled to the ground. I wasn't sure if I killed him or not, but I damn sure put him out of the fight.

I kept the Glock trained on his form as I advanced, trying to keep my eyes and ears open for any of his buddies. Between the bucking of the airborne pirate ship and the howling storm I could have been ambushed at pretty much any point. Either there was a decided lack of Sharpclaw on this ship or they were afraid of what my little boomstick could do, but I made it up to the two crumpled combatants virtually unopposed.

I couldn't tell if I killed Scales, but he was definitely bleeding profusely. I scored at least one or two hits on his side, and by the blood on his face I scored a hit there as well. “Chew on that, you fat fuck." I muttered, keeping the weapon trained on him as I glanced to the Cerinian vixen lying on the deck a few yards away. She wasn't moving, which was worrying. I moved over to her, feeling safe enough to put my piece away as I did so. This was turning out to be a pretty fucking bad day.

Krystal was clearly unconscious, but by the rise and fall of her chest she was breathing. Gingerly I ran my fingers through the fur on her throat, searching for a pulse. It wasn't like I knew what I was doing, but I was relieved that she had one. I couldn't tell if it was fast or slow for another human, let alone for a Cerinian. A part of my mind marveled at how soft her fur was, yet that was quickly quashed by the very real concern that we were without a way off this airship.

Taking a deep breath I rolled her over, getting in position to wind my arms around her and pick her up. I offered a silent prayer that my knee wouldn't give out as I stood her up and lifted her into my arms. I'm not going to lie. I was about as out of shape as it got and carrying another person wasn't something I was relishing. I pressed on towards the helm of the ship, gritting my teeth against the oncoming storm.

I wasn't carrying her for long. With a panicked gasp she startled awake; coughing, struggling and lashing out with her hands. “Hey, hey!" I somehow kept her from clocking the hell out of me and falling out of my grasp and onto her face, steadily lowering her into a standing position. “It's okay! I got him off you!"

Krystal glanced around, spotting Scales' still form on the deck. She looked back to me, a confused expression on her features. “How?" Her voice was raspy and strained; her aqua eyes bloodshot and glassy from her brush with death. “Wh… who are you?" She was shaking, holding onto me for stability as I climbed the stairs up to the helm.

“We'll make full introductions later. For now, we need to get off this boat." I didn't want to be rude, but I didn't want to be here in case Scales got back up. I glanced around the empty deck, the helm held in place by a couple of sturdy ropes. What looked like gun emplacements on the rear of the ship were still smoldering, the Sharpclaw manning them little more than charred husks. Other Sharpclaw bodies littered the deck, having met similar fates to the ones she had dispatched below. That caused me to blink in surprise. “Please tell me you have a ride off this thing."

Krystal nodded; an attempt at answering turning into a short coughing fit. I winced in sympathy. “He... he should be here shortly." She let go of me as we neared the rear deck of the ship, somewhat unsteady on her feet. “You saved my life. Thank you."

“One good turn deserves another. You freed me, and I think that's worth giving El Jefe over there a little what for. You doing okay?" I was running on adrenaline right now, coupled with anger, confusion, and disbelief. How the holy fuck had I ended up here? I was just driving home! I stopped my train of thought as Krystal regarded me with what I assumed was a puzzled expression.

“I'll be okay." Her voice still sounded gravelly and likely would be so for the next couple of days. “You don't look like a Saurian, or even any Lylatians I know about. Where did you come from?"

“Look. I know you probably have a lot of questions for me right now." I paused for a moment, hoping that my next words wouldn't offend or alienate her. If I was stuck here I needed help, and she was pretty much it. “I'm going to be straightforward here. There's a lot about this place that I just, well, know about. I'd like to keep the details to myself, at least for a little while. Is that okay with you?" I gave her a pleading look, trying to block out the fact I had a real worry that if she found out even half of what I actually knew about things she would have probably thrown me off the ship herself.

A confused expression greeted my request, but she nodded. “Okay. Your privacy shall be respected, stranger." She paused for a moment; which seemed to be perfect timing as a weary Cloudrunner shot up from beneath the deck, handing on the planking with a tired thump. It startled me despite my expecting it. Krystal called out in Saurian, initiating a conversation with the Cloudrunner as she quickly rifled through the belongings of the dead Sharpclaw.

What did I do? I took a moment to lean against the railing, feeling the adrenaline fade from my body. I was still trying to process what happened, and failing miserably at it. Either I was dreaming, in a coma, or dead. But why did this feel so real? Splinters still dug into my hands and forearms. My wrists and ankles still felt rope burn. My head was still pounding and I was in dire need of a handful of Advil. And a stiff drink. Those would be neigh near unobtanium here.

A flash of movement from below caught my eye, and once again it was decidedly not a good thing. The monstrous form of General Scales struggled to get back to his feet, despite the amount of punishment I had just given him. I called out a warning to the others. “We gotta get out of here now! That badass is getting back up, and he looks pissed!"

“Quick! Climb on!" Krystal shouted back, vaulting onto the saddle the Cloudrunner wore. I didn't need an engraved invitation to do so, yet the short sword she had been holding onto gave an indication as to what she had been doing. The problem I was going to have was twofold: I had ridden a horse. Once. When I was five years old. And had I mentioned how much I absolutely hated heights? Still, the fear of having my head end up on a pike courtesy of the mountain-sized dinosaur that was going to be out for my blood in mere seconds outweighed my fear of heights by a long shot. I jumped onto the Cloudrunner's back, grasping onto the sides of the saddle with all the strength I could muster. I tried to avoid all contact with the scantily-clad vixen sitting in front of me.

That didn't last too long. “No! Place your arms around me, stranger! You'll fall off that way!" I complied somewhat grudgingly, until I noticed she was wearing something like a seat belt attached to the saddle and her sandal-clad feet were cinched into stirrups. Probably some sort of restraint system I didn't have the benefit of. Her fur was damp with the rain yet was still possessed of an almost unnatural softness. As I held onto her I noticed she was unexpectedly warm; her lithe frame also possessing a quiet strength which was alternately expected and surprising. “I'm sorry if the contact is making you uncomfortable, but we have no other choice!"

With a sickening lurch the Cloudrunner lumped into the air; free of any sort of protection the railings of the ship provided the storm started buffeting us almost immediately. My clothing was starting to get damp and I was now fully aware that this was going to be a wild ride. I could see Scales below, limping up the stairs to the deck we were just on. He bellowed something in Saurian; Krystal shooting back with a response that I more felt through her than heard. I grit my teeth against the wind, rain, and the impossible drop below; it kept my mind off of just about anything else. All I knew was that I was in for a long, awkward ride.

Fragment 2(Kursed/Kew idea):

The snarl of the engine competed with the crashing music and growling lyrics as the headlights cut through the pitch black night. My right foot stabbed the throttle as the next curve came up, sending my car diving into the bend like a wildcat pouncing on its prey. Sticky tires and AWD kept the rally-bred sports car composed; with a chirp of one of the rear tires during a hot exit it left the curve behind.

I pushed the throttle in even further, the turbocharger spooling up and sending me rocketing forward into the dark, a late-night mountain pass attack just the medicine I needed to leave the stresses of the real world behind. It had been a hell of a few weeks; deadlines and tough projects threatening to bury me. I was finally able to take a bit of a vacation, and I was going to take advantage of every second of it. While I was blasting down the two-lane mountain highway at a fair clip above what was legal, the utter lack of traffic and being miles from any significant civilization made it somewhat safe to do. As my vintage rally car wound into the next straight I eased the throttle down, the engine's snarl transforming into a roar as the boost gauge climbed, the sensation of speed and the growing crescendo of the music providing the perfect outlet.

Maynard's voice growled over the speakers as the speedometer climbed. “Overwhelmed as one would be if placed in my position; Such a heavy burden now to be the one; Born to bear and bring to all the details of our ending; To write it down for all the world to see; but I forgot my pen…" The needle edged past 70, glided past 80 and swept past 90 as I floored it, the straight revealed plain and clear in the moonlight as I just put the hammer down. My left leg and right arm worked in unison, shifting the transmission into fourth gear as I continued to rocket through the mountain valley.

A staccato flashing from the sky ahead caught my attention, a confusing lightshow of green and red peppering the night air. I didn't pay too much attention to it; you could see commercial aircraft flying between Denver and points further west out here, especially on a cloudless, moonlit night like this one. I was a little too caught up in the moment to really notice; the music crashing through the speakers and the sensation of speed was my release from the stress that had been building up. It had been months since I had been on a good late night mountain run.

The flashing continued; looking like it was getting closer. That caused me to back off, letting off the gas and bringing the speedometer down under that magic '100' mark. A great orange flash lit the night, what sounded like an explosion making a hollow echo through the interior of my car. “What the hell?" I muttered, allowing the car to coast a bit until I figured out what was going on.

A giant blue streak crossed my vision, a big something screaming just over the roof of my car. It looked like a fighter jet of some sort; a strange swept-wing design I had never seen before. Flames were erupting from the ethereally glowing engine and one of those wings disintegrated right in front of me, sending debris skittering all over the road. It was angled towards the ground, and I realized I had a split second to react. I stomped on the brakes, the tires protesting the sudden treatment as I started a panic stop. The frightening sight outside my windshield revealed the aircraft trying to make an emergency landing and failing, the nose of the craft crumpling against the blacktop and flipping end over end a couple of times. I could hear the screeching and groaning of protesting metal over the shrieking of my tires; my hands fighting the steering wheel as I narrowly avoided smacking into sections of the wing and crumpled fuselage. My old rally car came to a stop within fifty yards of the strange, burning craft.

“Jesus fuck!" My exclamation was equal parts panic and frustration. It looked like I wasn't going to be getting away from the stress after all. Offering a pretty solid curse to whatever gods had laid this in my lap; I put the shifter in neutral, pulled up the e-brake and popped the hatch. That looked like a nasty crash but if someone had survived they would be in pretty dire need of help.

I rushed to the back of my car, pushing the hatch open and looking inside. The breaker bar I used as a tire iron would make a decent makeshift prybar or a good tool to bash out glass if it came to that. I picked that up, shut the hatch, and ran towards the wrecked aircraft; the heat of the flames a stark contrast to the chilly autumn air. The craft looked to be a one or two-seat fighter, its cracked canopy opaque to prying eyes. What paint there was on the aircraft was blue and white, blistering and blackening with the heat. The large canopy was cracked, though it was tinted to the point of looking opaque. The whole thing looked like some wounded bird of prey; perhaps it was some sort of advanced prototype? Either way the flames were licking all around the back of the craft, and I wasn't seeing anyone getting out. That didn't bode too well.

I took a deep breath and ran for it, jumping over a few pieces of flaming debris before reaching the remains of the wing. I scrambled up it, noting that the metal was getting plenty hot and I probably didn't have much time before I started to get burned. I panted for breath; between the heat and the fact I was an office-dwelling corporate IT guy in his early-30s and as such was completely out of shape I wasn't having a great time. As I reached the cockpit I looked inside, spotting the outline of a limp form nestled within. I couldn't see many details, though they definitely weren't moving around.

With a mighty windup I pulled the breaker bar back, putting all the weight I could into the swing. The impact jarred me all the way up my arms, but I succeeded in cracking the canopy further. A few more swings cracked a pretty large pattern into what I assumed was thick plexiglass, though I had failed to notice there was an external release marked with a bright blue arrow. “Nice going, dumbass." I reached down and pulled the lever, the canopy popping open with the unmistakable grinding scrape of a mechanism that either wasn't aligned correctly or was significantly damaged in the crash.

The pilot wore a very stylized helmet that looked rather large and strangely angled for their head; a thick plastic oxygen mask was clamped around their face and an opaque, black visor pretty much obscured their features. The form-fitting flightsuit they wore was dark purple with white accents; it was pretty obvious the pilot was female. She wasn't moving, but I didn't see any obvious injuries. Looking closer I noticed a decent dent on her helmet. She took a good knock. The flames seemed to intensify as I looked her over; if I didn't get her out of there she wasn't going to survive the ordeal. The only problem was that I had no idea how to undo the harness that strapped her into her seat. There was also what looked like a backpack sitting on a cargo shelf behind her. I grabbed it and swung it onto my back; figuring she'd appreciate her stuff not burning up with her aircraft.

I dropped the breaker bar to the ground, flicking open my pocket knife and sawing at her harness. It was tough to saw through but I managed to get her free. I reached into the cockpit and grabbed the pilot's limp body, groaning with the effort as I dragged her out of the stricken craft. There wasn't much chance of carrying her down the wing of the crippled craft so I just jumped, landing on my ass. She landed on top of me, knocking the wind out of my sails. I'm not sure how long I was there, alternately gritting my teeth and sucking in air; the acrid stench of burning plastic stinging my eyes and causing me to cringe. I heard several ominous pops echo through the still night air, potentially heralding the explosive demise of the craft. I groaned and picked myself off the ground, shoved the dropped breaker bar through one of my belt loops and picked up the pilot once again. “Getting too old for this shit." I wheezed, dragging the unconscious lady towards my car.

A harsh, whining shriek from overhead snapped my attention to another fighter craft. One of her buddies? That's when I noticed it wasn't slowing down and trying to land. My heart leapt into my throat when crimson bolts erupted from its wings, slamming into the asphalt and into the stricken craft. It detonated with a bright blue flash, blinding me and picking me up like God had decided to give me a shove. I hit the road with another breathtaking shock, pain shooting up and down my back. The pilot's backpack absorbed a little bit of the impact, but not much; thankfully it kept my head from busting open on the asphalt. I blinked away the afterimage; the strange craft reduced to a combination of bright blue flame and thick, greasy smoke. I struggled to my feet, fighting through the pain to figure out where the hell the craft was. I didn't really have time to reflect that I had just been effectively been shot at by laser cannon. I was under attack and the handgun I kept in the center console would be about as effective as launching spitwads at it.

I wasn't about to find out if that fighter was going to come around for another pass. I scanned around for the pilot, finding her on the ground a few feet away. I slipped my arms underneath hers and dragged her the twenty or so yards to my car. Within moments I had the passenger door open, perching her on the seat and winding the seatbelt into place. She sat somewhat awkwardly; some sort of equipment pouch or umbilical that wound down from her waist and halfway down her legs made it a little difficult to get her correctly seated. I scrambled for the driver's seat, a thought hitting me as I had buckled in and stepped on the brake pedal. “Those were fucking lasers!"

I stabbed the controls for the sunroof, stretching out to see if I could tell where the other fighter ran off to. If he had infrared capabilities my car would probably stick out like a sore thumb as soon as I took off. I wanted to get as much space between him and the route back. Something seemed very off about this. Calling the cops wouldn't do much good; they'd be about as defenseless against a fighter jet as I would be. The closest military base was back in my hometown of Colorado Springs, a good few hours away. With that in mind I edged closer to the burning wreckage, not bothering to shut off the headlights. I made a U-turn in the road, pointing my car towards the pass I had just exited. The music had changed to a haunting melody from Au4; strangely fitting and somehow steeling my resolve as I prepared to make a break for it.

My left foot pushed in the clutch, my right held steady on the gas as the engine snarled once more. The tachometer was brought to a steady 6,000rpm and held there as I scanned the skies. I caught a flash of light in the sky outside the rear window; faint and distant.

The singer's voice gave the command, somehow exactly in time with my actions. “Go. Don't know where to go. They sent me back home, now I'm on fire…" My foot slipped off the clutch, sending the old turbocharged rally car forward with all the power its slightly modified engine could muster at this altitude, all four wheels scrabbling at the pavement as it almost gimmediately reached redline. My foot mashed in the clutch, snapping the transmission to second as I saw the speed climb. 35, 40, 45…

My foot was glued to the firewall as the engine shrieked past 7,000; my feet and hand doing the dance to slam the transmission into third gear. I kept going, eyes darting between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. I saw the light behind gradually get brighter; the bastard spotted me. Red streaks shot past my car, chewing up the road ahead. I guided the car into the oncoming lane, rocketing past broken pavement as I started gaining speed. 80, 85, 90…

The 3S-GTE engine under the hood continued its high-pitched scream as I snap-shifted the car into fourth, rocketing north of a hundred miles per hour as I continued to pour on as much speed as I could. Another series of bolts shot past, creating another series of craters to dodge. I grit my teeth as I corrected, vectoring back into the correct lane to avoid another patch of ruined pavement. The road started its gradual incline up the pass, the speedometer now climbing north of one hundred twenty. The first turn up the pass came up; I swung the car wide into the oncoming lane to utilize as much road as possible, stabbing the brakes to shed speed. The act saved our lives, another series of bolts blasting into the rock wall behind me as I powered through the corner at a velocity that was reckless to the point of being borderline suicidal. The suspension held as the tires did their job of keeping me on the road, shedding more speed as I started to enter twistier, less predictable road. The mountain walls around me and the erratic nature of the pass would give the fighter jock fits; they just couldn't close in. Bolts snapped past my car at a couple of points but I just kept going, reaching the relative safety of tightly packed mountains. Several minutes went by before I pulled over, no longer able to see the lights. Did they break off?

I glanced over to the unconscious pilot in the passenger seat, curiosity overwhelming me. Whoever that was wanted her dead, and didn't particularly want witnesses. I reached over, grasping the mask that concealed her identity. A quick snap and it was undone. What it revealed wasn't human; the flash of a canine-like muzzle and a mixture of white and crimson fur greeting my wide eyes and gaping jaw. “What the hell?" I recoiled, nearly pushing myself out of the car. I felt like an idiot; that 'umbilical' was her goddamn tail, just encased in her flightsuit. I sat there for a few moments, the music switching over to various random songs I had in the MP3 player attached to the stereo. I was trying to make sense of it all, and it wasn't a large leap of logic to figure out what the hell was going on. The kicker was, logic was leading me very quickly down the road to total insanity. “No way. No fucking way!"

I reached for her visor, sliding it open to reveal the features of an anthropomorphic fox. A shock of dark pink hair had escaped her helmet, falling across closed eyes. To call this highly unusual was the understatement of the century, and prompted some serious questions that I couldn't even speculate the answers to. My options were limited. Going to the authorities probably wouldn't end well for either of us, though I was pretty sure the wreckage of her ship and the torn-up highway would be giving some investigators fits for a pretty long while. I waited for a few more moments before easing back onto the highway.

I drove on in relative silence, laying off the speed and aggressiveness. That paid off about half an hour later as a stream of cop cars shot past me, lights and sirens off. We were clear, for now. Frankly, I was dreading the coming few hours but for the time being I was going to enjoy the calm before the storm. The subtle vibrations under the floorboards and the steering wheel, the muted growl coming from the hood, and the dissonant, rhythmic breathing from my unexpected vulpine passenger all combined to create a surreal yet oddly relaxing drive. I glanced down to the clock, its digital numbers reading an impartial 1:17 at me. I had been out a little shorter than I planned, but I figured I'd keep it safe. I was still an hour away from home, at any rate. As long as I wasn't stopped or anyone didn't see my passenger, I was pretty well set.

She started to stir a few minutes later, a soft murmur reaching my ears as she awakened. The vixen stiffened as her eyes snapped open, a startled gasp taken as her reflexes kicked in. I had taken my foot off the gas, letting the car coast; a silent prayer going out that she didn't strike out at me. “Hey, it's okay." I tried to keep my voice calm. “You're safe now. Whoever they are, they're gone."

The vixen turned towards me, her voice belying a tiredness, suspicion, and edge to it. “What happened?" Her Estuary accent lent a touch of class to her words despite the edge. “Where are we, and who are you, human?"

I blinked at her comment. She knew what I was? “The name's Adam Strayton. You're on a planet called Earth. Since you're a walking, talking fox, I'm assuming you're not exactly local." I took a moment to compose myself. “I can't tell you exactly what happened. All I know is that I was out in the middle of nowhere, enjoying this sports car, when your ship apparently got shot down. You crash-landed in the middle of the road, I pulled you out, and whoever shot you down turned your ship into a smoking crater. They almost did the same thing to this car, but I managed to evade them." I left out the total details of the high-speed chase.

She remained silent for a moment, a frustrated sigh offered to the not so quiet interior of the car as we rode along. “My ship was destroyed?" I nodded. “I know my presence disturbs you, Mr. Strayton, and I offer my apologies as well as my thanks for saving my life. My name is K… Kara." She paused for a moment, her expression growing incredulous. “Wait. You said you evaded my opponent? In a landspeeder?" She glanced around the admittedly snug interior. “That was Oran Suleth, one of the best private contractors on Kew. And you managed to evade him." The tone of her voice belied a certain amount of surprise.

Kew? That name sounded vaguely familiar. “Would you mind filling me in on some of this stuff?" I requested. “Is the prelude to an alien invasion; should I be getting my family and friends out of danger? Hell, who are you, anyway? What's your angle on this?" I peppered her with questions, my mind directing itself to who I needed to inform. If I got enough friends together we could hold onto some remote land…

I was cut off by Kara's hand grasping my shoulder. “That won't be necessary, Mr. Strayton. I'm not here to harm you or your family, and the danger to this world is somewhat more subtle than an invasion. At least at this point." She paused for a moment, glancing to the road ahead. “I must warn you that this isn't information to be taken lightly. As much as it pains me to say it I could use shelter and time to get a plan together, yet I will at least give you the choice. This information could very well put your life in danger, and I would rather not have you involved unless you are willing to do so."

I took a moment to gather my thoughts. This sounded like a red pill/blue pill moment to me. It didn't take a big stretch of the imagination to figure out what she might need help with. I frankly didn't have much going on with my life. I was starting to build my career, I had a good bond with my family and a few close friends, and I had hobbies that took up a good chunk of what little free time I had. However, a thought came to me. “You're being tight-lipped for a reason. I get that. If I lend you a hand, does that have potential to make a difference?" I wasn't exactly sure why I said that, though there was probably some latent frustration in that statement.

She glanced to me for a moment, taking the time to unbuckle her helmet and set it on her lap. Her pinkish-purple hair was compressed and tangled, adding more to her tired, ragged features. She looked like she had been through the wringer. “It might. I will warn you that there are risks, and I expect you to pull your own weight if it comes to that."

“Fair enough." I responded, slowing down to take a junction branching off to another highway. While more heavily travelled, the road was devoid of more than a couple of cars. Even then that would make it difficult for the vixen's aerial pursuer to catch on if they were trying to follow. It was dark enough that it would be difficult to see her through the window tint, so I wasn't too concerned with anyone spotting my passenger. “I'll tell you what. I need some time to think about this, but I'll give you a place to crash through the next couple of days. At the very least it'll give you time to figure out a backup plan if I decline." My curiosity spurred another question. “If you don't mind a direct question, why would someone attack you out here? I would think keeping as low a profile as possible would be a paramount priority."

The vixen blinked, shooting me a quizzical look. “I'm not sure why he was that determined to kill me. Oran bounced me when I was in my high-altitude landing pattern. He managed to drain my shields and cause a hull breach. I… I blacked out for a moment." She visibly shuddered, which was in all honesty an identical reaction to my being yards away of an exploding starfighter. “I somehow managed to recover and engage him but it was too late. He already had the advantage. I spotted an open road below and tried to make an emergency ditch. You know how well that turned out."

I continued my scan of the road and the skies. It wouldn't be too much longer until we hit more populated areas. “Dude's pretty damn bold attacking you here. I'm sure your ruckus drew some attention, considering it happened practically on our military's front porch." I motioned ahead. “Where you came down is probably a hundred miles away from some major command centers."

“Where are they?" Kara's voice was laced with a hint of concern, and she glanced around the cabin of my car. I could tell that unnerved her, though I figured telling her the truth would be the best policy. As far as I figured it we were in the same boat and there would be a ton of trust involved in harboring a stranded alien, even if it were only for a couple of days.

“They're based out of the same city I live in." She stiffened at that remark. I wasn't the best at softening less than stellar news, though I did have a couple of choice thoughts about it. “I'm not going to force you to stay there, though if you want my take on it this isn't a bad place to hide out. I don't think your 'friend' up there would be too keen on coming close to the Springs, considering my country's military has its primary space monitoring division here. Also, it's not like we're under martial law. We don't have the military running around searching for aliens in our own backyard. As far as I'm aware, this is first contact."

Kara stared at me, shaking her head a moment later. “This is very much not a first contact situation, Mr. Strayton. Without going into detail, there's enough visitation between this planet and where I am from to support a black market." She sighed, glancing out the window at the scenery running past. “While your location has its advantages there are some major disadvantages. I am going to need to travel without scrutiny, and being in an area heavily traveled by your military runs a risk."

I nodded, keeping an eye on the road ahead. I was trying to be cautious of the traffic around us, though I thankfully wasn't getting any glances. “That's your call, Kara. It's going to be difficult remaining inconspicuous as a walking, talking fox, so travel anywhere is going to be difficult unless you're running around at night like we are right now. The offer still stands regardless. If you need a couple of days to figure out your next move, you've got a place to lay low and someone who isn't going to ask too many questions."

I could tell that caught her off guard. Her expression was nearly a glare at this point, her tone even yet icy. “Why would you do this for a total stranger? There's far more benefit for you to turn me in to your authorities, or to force me out of your vehicle and leave me in this wilderness. Why would you risk your safety to help someone you haven't met, especially someone who is an alien to your world?"

I snapped a question back in response. “Would you even believe me if I told you the truth?" There was an edge in my words to match hers; I wasn't exactly in a good mood and her statement caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting her to nod at me, motioning to me as if to prompt me to explain. “Because it was the ethical course of action. If I didn't do something, even at risk to my own safety, you would have died in that wreck. Because of that, I feel responsible for your well being. At least to an extent."

“I can take care of myself." Kara's voice hissed. “If my life had ended then, that was on me. Not you. My death wouldn't be on your conscience, and you could have gone back to doing whatever you do with your time on this backwater planet." I struck a nerve. Just great. However, if she was going to give me salt I was capable of giving it right back.

“You're forgetting the part where I was a witness to all this and your friend up there could have easily turned me into a pile of slag to keep my ass quiet. Right now I'm as much a part of this as you are. If you're having trouble fitting altruism into your paradigm, then try self-preservation." I turned my attention to the road, letting my vulpine guest think about that one for a moment. We were getting close to Woodland Park anyway; the town shut down pretty early except for the bar crowds. We would be beating them by a few minutes at least. “If you want me to let you out, give the word and I'll pull over. We've got about ten minutes to the next town; past that it's about half an hour to my house."

Kara sat in silence, her icy gaze regarding me for a couple of minutes. “Okay, human. I'll humor you. At least through tomorrow. I will make one thing perfectly clear." She bared her teeth in a snarl as she spoke, her voice carrying the quality of an inhuman growl. “I am a professional bounty hunter. I neither need nor want your sympathy or pity. If your intentions are disingenuous, you will experience firsthand what I am capable of." The threat sent chills up and down my spine, and the thought of pulling over and forcing her out at gunpoint was well within my mind. Her voice instantly lost its edge as she continued. “However, if your intentions are as you said there will be a reward for your assistance. I do not leave debts unpaid."

“That's mighty generous of you, but could you cool it on the threats?" I snarked back, guiding my car closer to my destination. “I'm a goddamn office worker, not a career criminal or some sort of badass. I'm offering you crash space and time to collect your thoughts, for Chrissake." I drove on in silence after that, wondering if I had really made the right call. Only time would tell if I did. The lonely mountain road grew more populated, the cars coming and going more frequently as we came across the small town of Woodland Park. Kara wisely looked away as streetlights washed over us, though there was still relatively little traffic. Most people out at this hour were finishing up at the bar, and either too busy calling cabs or hopefully sobering up for the drive home. I kept on my guard; a drunk driver could ruin an already screwed up evening about as quickly as earlier events had.

I noticed Kara taking sneak peeks at the buildings and landscape of the small mountain town as we rolled through. She glanced at a McDonalds sitting just off the roadway, eyeing the fast food stop appraisingly. I decided to take the risk of conversing again. “Hungry?"

She paused for a moment and nodded. “I could eat, however it would be prudent to do so away from prying eyes. I had forgotten that the trip from your moon would take so long, and I couldn't grab a ration while in flight."

“Why couldn't you eat? I'm assuming you didn't wear that getup all the way here from whatever planet you came from." That sparked some curiosity. “You're dressed in what we would consider fighter pilot garb. I'd assume you'd be wearing a spacesuit?"

“My craft had an issue with its cockpit pressurization." Kara explained, her voice losing its edge as she continued. “It was enough to not require a spacesuit, but you can't exactly eat while wearing one of these." She motioned to the helmet and mask which sat in her lap. “It saved me when the hull breach occurred; when hooked to a craft these flight suits can compensate for a total decompression event."

“Slick stuff, I assume. My forte isn't aviation equipment, but at least it did the job?" The streetlights and buildings gave way to a far more deserted road. I was on intimately familiar ground, the home stretch before I could start putting this night behind me. “I'll see what I've got at the house, or I'll go out and get something."

Kara nodded at me, shutting her eyes. “I… I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. I am not used to this." She didn't elaborate, opting to look out at what little scenery the headlights provided. “Are we in a mountainous region, by any chance?" Her change of subject once again caught me by surprise, however I figured if something was eating her she'd either talk about it or keep it to herself.

“We're currently driving through a mountain range, yes. Give it about ten minutes and it'll start leveling out. As soon as it does so we'll be in a city so keep your eyes open. I can avoid the main roads as much as possible, but we're going to have to be careful in a little bit." My old rally car wound through the tight curves of Ute Pass as if it were born to do so; in a way it had been. This was my element, and despite the circumstances surrounding my early trip home I felt in control of this little piece of my paradigm. In a way, that was all that mattered.

“This is an unusually late time to be piloting a vehicle in a remote area, if the number of landspeeders I have seen is any indication. What were you doing out this late?" I shot her a questioning look, but from what little I could tell from her vulpine expression she was genuinely curious.

“There's too much traffic in town, especially during the day." I patted the dash, feeling the slightly padded, pebbled texture of the vinyl beneath my fingertips. “This is my stress relief. I'll pull one of my beasts out of hibernation and hit the road late at night. With nobody around, it's the perfect time to hit the passes and attack some corners without risk of hitting anyone else. Within reason, of course."

Kara nodded in assent. “I used to… never mind. I understand what you mean." She provided no explanation and if I was perfectly honest I didn't quite care that she was hiding her personal history. It wasn't my business, anyway. While at some level I found her presence fascinating, there was a rather large part of me that wanted this strange adventure over with sooner rather than later. I could add some notches to my good deeds belt, and, hell. At the very least I knew there was intelligent life out there.

The next few minutes carried on in awkward silence as I concentrated on driving and the vixen sitting next to me seemed to alternate her interest between what little scenery that could be seen and the helmet in her lap.

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