Blizzard in a Fox, Flame in a Wolf

Prologue

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

     The vulpine could feel the beep of his watch on his wrist. He could feel the pumping of blood in his veins. His tail swished against the cold bed sheets, his breath white and hot against the cool, damp air.

     This was Fox McCloud (no, his name is not Star Fox). Leader of Star Fox, and Andross' downfall. Well, that was what everybody saw him as. Just a pretty face who was perfect. No flaws. He was able to miraculously fly his Arwing, and capable of keeping a cool head under pressure! The public loved Fox.

     But he didn't. Fox did not love himself. His demons haunted his past. His father who died. Every little mistake he made burrowed deep into his skin. Sure, he was a good pilot, but Falco was better. Sure, he was smart, but Slippy was smarter. Yeah, he was wise for his age, but Peppy was wiser. What did he have? What made him different? Unique, even?

What if Fox had no talent? What if he was just a mistake? A fox who's dad wouldn't even listen to him to stay out of harm's way because he couldn't convince him. His dad, James McCloud, was dead. Dead because of him. It was all his fault. HIS fault. Fox was a Killer. A murderer from the very beginning. He couldn't even keep his dad alive-

     Fox broke his thought process, interrupting it before it could develop into another hateful tornado of pain and agony which he sometimes put himself through. Sitting up, he looked out the window of his room which he slept in. There was his silhouette which stared back at him with the pale gleam of snow in the background.

     He quickly broke his gaze, and shot his eyes towards his body. He tossed the sheets off his body, to reveal his fuzzy frame which had nothing but red boxer briefs on. They fit him a little snugly, but he didn't mind. Swinging his leg around until his foot hit the floor, he slid off the bed before standing. Bouncing on his heels a little, he stretched. The fox was hardly 4'11", which wasn't all that impressive. He was pretty short, but that was fine. Maybe. Not to him. But nobody else seemed to care, so he kept his trap shut.

     He checked his watch and bit his bottom lip. Sighing, he rubbed his temples before starting to make his way to the bathroom. He had to quietly tip toe past his crewmates' bedrooms, as he didn't want to wake them up. He was already a bother to them, they treated him like scum so...wasn't he a pretty crap guy? Why else would they treat him this way?

     "You got woken up by your watch. At two in the morning. Who would be texting you at this time?" He asked himself quietly, as his thoughts traversed his brain, trying to think of one person he knew who would want to talk to him.

     After waking up properly, splashing cold water on his face and going to the bathroom, he finally checked the message which he dreaded to read. His eyes widened. A distress signal! It didn't say who it was from, which he thought was odd, but didn't think to hard about it.

     Sprinting from the bathroom, Fox stumbled into his room and immediately began to get dressed. It was close to their location. It was actually the planet which they were traversing then and there. He quickly tossed on his green cargo pants, sliding a belt through the loops and being sure it was secure. He tossed on a red sweater, as well as those silver, bulky looking combat boots which laced up to his shin. They had thick, metal soles which packed quite the punch if one were to be struck by suck an object.

     Just before he left, he reached for his piloting jacket which he never left without. It was his signature look! Nobody but Team StarFox saw him without it, and even then it was a rare occurance. He darted out the room and spun into the hallway. Rushing to Falco's room, he opened the door and began to speak.

     "LOMB-!" He clasped a green gloved hand over his maw, freezing in place. He had barged in to only see the ace pilot asleep. He swallowed hard, and exhaled. Usually they were up gaming...but whatever. He could do this alone. He didn't want to disturb the falcon anyways. He slowly shut the door, and did his best to escape the hallway without awakening anybody.

     He felt lucky to not have awoken anybody. Now in the room where he would climb into his Arwing, he hesitated. Thinking, he looked at the distress signal again. It was getting closer. He calculated about how far it was before turning to the hatch where he was to slide into his ship. One last exhale, and suddenly he fell over, feeling a warm liquid seep into his fur as the world went dark. His eyes closed, and he was left unconscious.

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There was the prologue! Hope you enjoyed it, more to come as soon as I can get it out, so look forward to that!

Words count: 853 for the story, 885 total.