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The Wolf of Sector Y


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This is a fanfic that i wrote. It loosely follows the events of Star Fox Assualt, so for those who haven't played the game, there IS spoliers. Ye fanboy's be warned.  :oops:

Let me know if you like it, so that I know to post the next chapter :)

Sloan has two options: she can run, or she can die. Children at the Sector Y Institute for the Parentally Challenged are mysteriously disappearing, and she's sure she is next. One problem, her escape is into the ranks of the powerful military group Star Wolf. With a War looming on the horizon, only Sloan's will to survive and her inborne talents of war will keep her from becoming a statistic.

Chapter 1:

Sloan stole a look at her reflection in a shallow puddle by her feet before stepping into a bar. She barely glanced at the neon sign hanging above the door. She knew that in blazing colours it proclaimed the name: Bleeding Rose. Bleeding in red, Rose in blue. Next to the words was a blue rose, with an animated red droplet dripping from a petal. She had heard that Wolf and his team mates frequented this bar, so it was the best place to hunt for information.

It didn't seem the type of place to find such high profile bandits. The walls were dark; whether from choice of paint or years of stains she couldn’t be sure, but the soft green patches were definitely nature’s touch. Red, blue, and green strobe lights flashed off the stage where a second rate band was performing. The carpet around the booths was disgusting, both in pattern and grime. Not a single chair had escaped being slashed or broken in some way, and some in the farthest corners were gutted of there stuffing completely. The colours were bland, either because they had started that way or years had weighed in on them, drying out even the most flamboyant shades to a pitiful homage of their former selves.

Thanks to the onstage performance that night, the only decent light source besides the strobe lights was the bright but hideous lamp hanging above two pool tables, both occupied by an assortment of surly looking teens. The song changed and there was an array of hoots and cheers as the inebriated patrons in the front row told the band’s sexy lead singer just what they thought of her.

Sloan decided it would be best if she kept her eyes down. Most people in a bar like this one weren't the kind who wanted to be recognized. The music was loud enough so you couldn’t eavesdrop on a conversation, but not so loud that you couldn’t have one yourself. She took a seat at a free barstool, the only free stool, next to a wolf with pale blue eyes that were glazed over with alcohol. She wondered what he had seen that was so terrible that he needed to drown it like that. She tried her best to ignore the scraggly looking hawk on her other side. From what she could tell he’d been passed out for hours.

The bartender, a skunk, tall and handsome, came over to her. His well kept fur, painfully noticeable over a ratty, threadbare purple uniform, made him seem awfully out of place.

“What’s yer’ poison?” he asked. His accent told Sloan he hailed from McBeth.

“Aquas Blue,” she answered. It had always been her favourite, and was more of a cooler than hard liquor.

"Seem a little young," the wolf muttered, his voice was hardly slurred at all from his drinking. Maybe his eyes always had that glazed look.

"Come on, bud," the avian next to him said, his voice slurred horribly. He wasn't holding his liquor as well as his partner, avians rarely did. "Leave the kiddalone."

"Man, shut up.”

“Wha’? Man, you shu’ up. I’m sick of your mouth.” He took a swing at his partner, but there was no force in the punch. It landed as a friendly, if heavy handed, pat on the back.

“You know what I’m sick of?”

“Ya’know wha’, I bet yer’ about t’tell me.”

“I am sick, of these dumps. I am sick of shitty hotels, and shitty bars. Just once, I want to know what the good life is like," the wolf growled. Sloan laughed darkly.

"You an' me both, man," Sloan assured him, though not really sure what had brought them to the topic. He stared into the Wolf’s eyes. They were so piercing, she wanted to look away, but looking away would be a sign of insecurity and weakness.

"Yeah?" He laughed too. "Yeah. So, what brings you down to this scummy little hole-in-the-wall anyways?" Sloan reached for the drink that the bartender had just placed at her elbow. She took a long gulp and watched the multi-shade, blue mixture swirl around the glass.

“My freedom. That’s what.”

“From who?” he asked, Sloan’s face hardened.

“You ever heard of the Warden?” The wolf looked at her with eyes that seemed sympathetic, but the look soon disappeared. She was glad. She was sick of sympathy, when in the end no one really did anything.

“Yeah, I’ve heard. You’re a prisoner of Sector Y,” he said. Sloan nodded. He knew all about them. Heck, he had probably hunted a few orphans that had somehow escaped from the Warden’s iron grasp.

The Sector Y Institute for the Parentally Challenged was run by a man called Alex Warren, but everyone knew him as the Warden, although Sloan had seen some of his rats call him “Mr. Warren, Sir.” “Thank you, Mr. Warren, sir. Of course, Mr. Warren, sir.” Sloan had spent her entire life in Sector Y, and now she had decided that she either had to escape him, or die.

“I’m looking for information on Star Wolf. I’m told he’s looking for a new crew member. The job may be my only chance to get free.”

“You’re awful young to hit the cockpit, and a gang of mercenary pirates isn’t the usual job for a kid you’re age. What are you, fifteen, sixteen on the outside?”

“What else can I do? If I just run, Warden’ll use government funds to buy a bounty hunter and get me back. You can’t just run real fast and hope real hard,” Sloan explained, ignoring the question of her age. The wolf looked at her, seeming to wrestle with something inside of him. Finally, he sighed in defeat.

“The first tryout is exactly a week from now and they go for seven days. Be at Sargasso Space station bright and early.” Sloan’s dark brown eyes widened.

“You think…?”

“If you can fly, you have a chance.”

She sat out another hour or two on that barstool, finishing her drink and listening to the casual talk of the two friends. She eventually said goodbye and got up to leave. The wolf grabbed her arm.

“My name is Roe Morgan. If you don’t get in, I may be able to get you into a cockpit. It won’t be the same, but it’ll be work.” Sloan nodded.

“Thanks, but I’ve got a bit of money. If I don’t get picked, Lylat will never see me again,” she said with faux bravery, her run real fast, hope real hard comment still in her ears. She knew if she couldn’t make the cut it was game over.

“Damn shame,” the avian muttered into his drink. Roe released Sloan’s arm and gave her once last piece of advice before she left the Bleeding Rose.

“Clean up your slang. Wolf hates that shit.” Sloan nodded her thanks and left. She gazed around at the alleyway she had been deposited in. Like the inside of the bar, it was dark and grimy. Garbage littered the ground. A little ways up the alley to her left. She could hear someone stumbling around. She squinted into the darkness up that way, but saw nothing. Flipping up her collar against the damp breeze blowing in from the nearby sea, she turned to her right and began following the bright lights that would lead her to Corneria City’s main street, and civilized society. It was a place she had never really fit into anyways. She looked carefully around the desolate stretch of road she had emerged at, noticing only a young couple out on a late night stroll and a single car moving down the deserted street. She watched a forsaken plastic cup bounce and roll down the street in the wind before she moved into the blazing light of a streetlamp.

Usually, she didn’t like the light of streetlamps, they made her feel like she was on trial for simply being her, or on display at some kind of freak show for everyone to see and be amazed with. But tonight, she had no choice in the matter. She couldn’t look like she was hiding. She had forgotten to check in with one of the Marshals and she was now about thirty minutes past curfew. She shivered as another icy wind swept down the street, kicking dust into her face. The shiver wasn’t entirely from the cold.

“Funny seeing you here,” snarled a voice from behind her. Somehow, they always managed to come from behind. She whipped around and found herself standing inches away from a dragon. And she was angry.

“Marshal Green!” Sloan said, trying to look and sound surprised and completely stupid. A believable act, since Green thought every child on the station was an idiot. A fatal oversight on her part.

“You are far past curfew, and you didn’t even have the good sense to check in, we were about to send the police out after you!”

So nice to know someone is looking out for my wellbeing. Sloan thought sarcastically.

“I-I can explain, ma’am,” Sloan stammered, fiddling with her jacket and looking down at her well used sneakers, wishing most of her fear was only pretend.

“I’m sure you can, and I’m also sure Mr. Warren will be very interested in hearing it.” Green grabbed her arm and proceeded to half drag her down the street. Struggled to keep up, tripping over herself in an attempt to keep from falling flat on her face.

As she was forcefully taken to the transport that would take her and the others back to Sector Y, she saw a bright red star that, even in all the hours spent stargazing, she had never seen before. It was glowing so bright, she could even pick it out from the red-orange colour of Sector Z. she wondered if maybe it was Sargasso space station, lighting her way to a whole new life, one devoid of Sector Y, and the Warden.

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  • 1 month later...
  • 8 months later...

u think i should post the rest? I think this fic might not be canon enough

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I've been checking these out on Deviantart. I can say it is very well done and I look forward to re-reading it here.

u think i should post the rest? I think this fic might not be canon enough

Please do. The good thing about a fan-fiction is it doesn't need to follow canon to an extent.

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u think i should post the rest? I think this fic might not be canon enough

I think you should Fira. If you take a look trough the fanfic section, you'll realise canon doesn't mean everything.

It's some proper good writing you have. Something I think is more than worthy to share with this great community we have here.

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u think i should post the rest? I think this fic might not be canon enough

excuse me  but what part of Marcus' twin sister kari,  reece kilza, or even Tigress arcnon the 7 foot tiger mechanic is cannon?) if you look through all the other fan-fics very few are 'cannon'
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well, i kinda meant the fact that the main character is human, but w/e  :lol: seems the response has been obvious

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well, i kinda meant the fact that the main character is human, but w/e  :lol: seems the response has been obvious

well i'll let you in on a secret..... Reece kilza was human he somehowwas mutated into a vulpine...
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  • 3 weeks later...

Okay then, here's chapter two:

Wolf entered the otherwise deserted mechanical bay. He decided he couldn’t put the job off any longer. He approached the abused and forsaken Wolfen that had once belonged to Pigma Dengar. Wolfs men drove the fat oaf off after building Sargasso Space Station during the nearly ten years that had passed since the fall of Andross’ empire and his stab at reincarnation on Sauria.

He had never trusted Pigma, how could a man who had betrayed someone as great as James McCloud ever be loyal to what Wolf had been at the time they had met, a thin, pale, nineteen year old boy? He couldn’t find a reason, except maybe the special powers Andross had brought to his attention during the war, only at the time he couldn’t understand why he could, among other things, make defensive barriers and set objects on fire with just his mind, and hadn’t told a soul that he had these abilities.

He inspected the Wolfen. It had numerous dents and scratches on it, and about twelve lines on the fuselage that looked like Pigma had scratched them into the paint himself.

“Probably the number of times he pegged Peppy during the whole damn war,” he snarled to himself, angry Pigma would do something so stupid to his Wolfen. He meticulously filled in every imperfection on the ship’s surface, then went about replenishing the supply of blood red and black paint on the neglected ship. He spray brushed most of it, but there were some smaller lines he couldn’t help doing himself. The process took hours.

“So this is why the Wolfen threes took so long, perfectionist,” Leon hissed from behind him. He had entered about a half hour ago and had wandered around until he finally realized Wolf wasn’t going to talk to him. He had known Wolf long enough to know better than to think he had snuck up on him. Wolf grunted a response. He couldn’t be bothered to speak.

After the Wolfen was finished, Wolf went back to his room to finish the test for the recruits. You needed to write a written test and hit 80 or higher to even be considered, he had no intention of hiring an idiot, then you would have fifteen minutes to look over the Wolfen’s controls before a dogfight with him, and there was a catch. They were giving enough power for one charge laser, one thirty second Infinite Shield -an invention of Andross’, it could keep your ship safe from almost anything, including the explosion of a large star, but it didn’t last for very long and was a big power drain- and one smart bomb. Plus, Wolf’s ship would have full combat capabilities, not pretty under the best conditions. If they could do any damage at all, they were in

“There, that’s it,” he said to himself, leaning back from his desk in the study of his quarters after the last few questions were done. Everything was ready, all he could do now was wait.


“So… um… Sloan, is it?”

“Yes, Warden.”

“Now, you look like a smart girl. I don’t need to explain how much trouble you are in.”

“No, Warden.” Sloan knew better than to try and explain. The Warden smiled coldly, opening a file folder that must have been about her. Marshal Green stood behind her, looking disgusted at the very sight of the young girl. Sloan self-consciously pushed away a lock of poorly kept black hair from her face.

“Mr. Warren, I think we should impose the maximum punishment, one week in a solitary chamber!” Sloan wasn’t surprised. Solitary chambers were the main source of punishment at the institute, and besides, Marshals were bullies, and Marshal Green was one of the biggest bullies there was. She was an old komodo dragon, an imposing race to begin with, the heavy lines in her scaled skin made it look like she had more of it than her bone structure could support.

The Warden chuckled, it sounded good natured, but Sloan new better. When you looked into his eyes, there was no mercy, no kindness, almost no emotion at all. Just cold, calculated malice. There was no using the stupid treatment on him, he saw right through it.

“Now, now, Marshal, that’s a little harsh, don’t you think? I mean, it was only a half hour, right, Sloan?”

“Yes, Warden.”

“But I of course need to impose on you just how dangerous it is to be out unsupervised after curfew.”

Cuz’ you know we’ll run if you give us half a chance. “Yes, Warden.”

“So, starting tomorrow, you will serve three days in a solitary chamber, one day for every ten minutes over curfew you were. Do you find this reasonable?”

“Yes, Warden.” She didn’t find it reasonable at all, but she wasn’t near stupid enough to get her sentence lengthened by arguing. Green stepped up and took a strong hold on Sloan’s arm. It felt like she was cutting Sloan’s circulation off.

“Good. Marshal Green, please escort Sloan to her appropriate sleeping section. I believe dinner is over by now.” Sloan tried not to swear. She had missed the only meal of the day.

“Of course, Mr. Warren.” Sloan was then pulled out of the room. Green kept a tight hold on her all the way from the Warden’s office to the very bowels of the space station, where all the sleeping quarters for the children were located. She was pushed down the final hall before Green spoke.

“I trust even you are intelligent enough to find your way from here.”

“Yes Marshal, quite,” Sloan said, trying to stay polite. There was but one door in the hallway, so Sloan deduced that, yet again, she was being called stupid. Green hated every kid on the station, but had taken a special interest in Sloan. Probably because Sloan had kicked her when she was four.

The brightly lit, grey hall was guarded by six hired mercenaries. Two at the hall’s entrance, two halfway down, and another two at the door. They were there so none of the kids could slip out at night and do a little midnight star gazing. The guard gave her a disapproving look before opening the door. It was key-card locked for “safety”.

As soon as Sloan entered, she was hit by the noise and heat of several thousand bodies crammed into a single room, gigantic as it was. The room was huge, large enough to house them all, although things could get a little cozy. It had several levels to it, with a single walkway spiraling slowly downwards at an angle. It was filled with bunks, children of all ages, and both genders, little else. Some of the more crafty youths had rigged up a few makeshift tables. There were about ten guards on every level, watching closely for and kind of offence to occur so they could spill some blood. One guard stepped up to her and she instinctively held out her barcoded right arm. There was a momentary stab of pain before she was logged as being present and led down to her section.

“Don’t cause any trouble,” the wolf growled at her before going back to his station. They were all like him: male, muscular, pissed off wolves. Tired and in no mood to talk to anyone, she navigated her way among the throng to her bed, only to find it already occupied.

“Hello, Dolly,” chimed Luther, a crow Sloan had known for as long as she could remember. He had, purple-black feathers, smoldering red eyes, and multiple piercings. He was several years older than her and wore a lot of black. Sloan blamed her fashion sense on him, and she absolutely hated the nickname he had given her.

“Buddy, you have thirty seconds to explain why you are in the way of my sleep before I make good and sure they never find your body.”

“Chill, Dolly. I heard that you skipped out on curfew, and I didn’t see you in the mess hall, so I brought you this.” He produced from his jacket the still sealed dinner package that Sloan would have received if she had been there. It was a balanced meal and supposedly good for you, but it left a lot to be desired in the way of taste. Well, there was taste to it, but one sure sign the food had been tampered with in frightening ways was the toothpaste and sawdust flavour. She almost went for it, but stopped herself.

“And just what do you want in return?” she said, suspicious. Luther shrugged.

“I need a reason to help out a friend?”

“I know you better than that. You’d never do somethin’ for nothin’.”

“Hey, I’m outta’ here in, what, six months?”

“Stop boasting.”

“So I figured I better start learning how to be generous, but if you don’t want it…” he went to put it back in his jacket. Sloan grabbed it away from him. The kids on the station only got one meal a day, so besides the Aquas Blue she had drank, she had eaten nothing in over twenty-four hours.

“What do I owe you?”

“I’ll figure somthin’ out.” He began to slide off her bed, then added, “It’s not like you’ll be around for me to collect on it anyways.”

“And jus’ what’s that supposed to mean?” He gave her a look that said don’t be stupid, I know everything about you. She saw that look a lot.

“Come on, Dolly, you’ve never missed a curfew before, and besides, I know where you went last night. Either you’ve suddenly decided to get all tough and stupid, or you’ve got a fish on the hook. So, tell me, what is it?”

“Get away from me,” she snarled. Luther let out a cold little laugh, then got up off the bed and allowed her to crawl into it. “I’ve got no idea how you expect to get any sleep in this bustling metropolis of Slaveville,” he said as if he hadn’t just threatened Sloan’s chance for freedom. “I can hardly hear myself think.”

“Like you think all that often anyways.”

“Cram it, kid.” Luther didn’t jump into his own bunk, the one next to hers, but instead disappeared into the crowd, looking for a deck of cards to swipe or a nice, quiet place to get into a fist fight with someone. Sloan watched him go before ripping open the dinner package.

As she ate, she thought about how the next three days would be. Dark, cold, and fear filled. The only thing that brought her any kind of hope was what lay in store for her in exactly a week, as long as Luther didn’t get in the way first. How had he found her? How could he possibly have followed her without her noticing? It annoyed her how good he was at that, and she was also annoyed with herself at how glad she was that he was on her team. She never even noticed Brad, one of the Warden’s rats that had been listening to their entire conversation, scurry off.

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