Update: Enthusiastically shameless in hoping for a bit more reception. Love it? Hate it? Does it interest you? Does it make you cringe? Let me know. Drop a review, if you would be so wonderful.

Warning. I believe there will be quite a bit of "trigger" content in this story, and it will sometimes go to dark places. There will be crude humor, foul language, sexual content, and lots of blood. You'll get a taste of that from the story's resident psychopath in just a few moments. Read at your own discretion.

Star Fox (c)Nintendo

Star Fox: The Hybrid Project

Prologue

Part One

Blood. Bones. Flesh.

The sight was such a comfort. Corpses littered the linoleum floor, the metallic scent of blood and blooming decay all that the little vulpine could sense. Not a single body stirred. What a relief it was to see all that pure, untainted blood. What a relief it was to know how uncorrupted their organs were. What a relief it was to kill something naturally created—to kill something that was born, that underwent growth, that experienced mundane pleasures and sicknesses. Something that knew life.

His bare indigo feet were coated in the red liquid pooling on the floor. Below him lay the body of a young canine, white-furred with empty blue eyes that would forever display the sheer terror she had experienced in her final moments. She was so pristine, even with all that red caked on her pelt; red wine on white silk. He gently nudged her cheek with his foot, leaving a small crimson mark where his toe had caressed her fur. Her head lolled pathetically, bringing a scowl to his face. How ungraceful.

In his annoyance, he pulled his foot up before mercilessly bringing it down on her neck with a satisfying crack. There. Mangled throat included, she was perfect now—a natural death, for a natural creature. He smiled, tilting his head. He sunk into his knees, eying her appreciatively. She was beautiful, a mane of white tresses dipped in blood splayed about her. Her eyelashes were thick, long, and black. She was built like the epitome of a woman, with large, round hips, full breasts, robust thighs, and a waist that sunk inwards.

His interest quickly faded. Far down below, the sound of slamming doors echoed, dancing up the stairwell outside the room. They were so incredibly fast—very impressive.

The north wall, opposite the doors, was a thin shield of paned glass that teased the viewer with Fichina's beautiful tundra. It drew yet another scowl from him. They ruined it. Once a land of frozen desolation, impossible to inhabit by a typical person, Fichina had been a serene beauty with terrible power, capable of taking life in an instant. Now, it had been reduced to a docile, fluff-blanketed carpet, its only considerable ailment the light snow showers and treacherous ice. All because they had to get in the way of natural science, had to cut out nature's tongue and render it speechless.

He glanced up, cocking his head a bit to eye the vent above him, sickeningly predatory yellow orbs piercing the dark on the other side. They made it so easy for him!

He crouched, wriggling slowly in a serpentine manner until he was properly poised. Black claws erupted from his nail beds, a grotesque, abnormal sight, the tips still stained with blood. There was, what he found to be, a comical gap where the blood separated; his fingers were drenched, but where his claws had recently receded, all traces of culpability had been erased. Only the ends remained.

The impossible power in his short, lean frame seeped into his legs, and he leaped upward, claws and toenails digging into the ceiling as he grappled for it. Liberating a hand, he tore the vent cover off, slithering inside with the speed and grace of the fastest of reptiles. The heavy silence was unbroken, his existence so abominable and so ethereal in nature that even the superstitious would never have even fathomed his presence.