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What Comes Natural [Rated T+]

Mellow Walrus

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EDIT: Like I said in a few posts below, this prologue right here has been completely scraped from the events that will unfold in my story. I'll keep it here for now, to show you guys if I've improved notably within the six months it took me to return to this fanfic. Go ahead and skip on to the next colossal wall of text you see, if you find the time skim this post over and point fingers at it, thinking of how much it used to suck in comparison.

Okay, here's one of two Starfox fanfics I'm currently working on at the moment. Anyway, this little prologue right here hasn't really been all that polished yet. I'm trying to see if my writing without much revision is good enough for most readers to bear, so I won't have to worry as much over the quality of my writing.


Upon opening his eyes, he discovered there was nothing to see. James McCloud squirmed around to try to see what he can find with the sense of touch, and hopefully adapt to this new environment. He was somewhat relieved that he was boxed in a capsule, so he was protected in a sense.

Upon further inspection he noticed that something was loosely tugging at him when he moved his limbs. They felt like tubes, though they may have not been used for healing. If they were, he’d probably have an oxygen mask on as well. Most of the capsules in hospitals have at least a window for the patient to see through

The odds are stacked against him being under medical care. The only other machine like this the ace pilot could think of was a VR Simulator, but that was out of the question. Even if there was some type of error causing his memories of it to disappear, there’s no reason for him to be in one anyway.

He’d bet the house he was captured by Andross. Normally this would come as a great shock but his mind was incapable of handling such strong emotions. It felt like he was drugged with something. At least that might give one point to the hospital theory, maybe a poor one that can’t afford gas masks and fancy pods that distract those in pain with television and other forms of media.

He then heard a muffled conversation that seemed to be close by. Moments went by that seemed to prolong forever until there was a click sound. The supposed “hospital bed†then began to slide out of the capsule like the drawers to a filing cabinet. The light slightly blinded his vision, but was merely temporarily.

“Hello, Mr. McCloud.†said a rather sophisticated sounding man’s voice. “I hear you’re quite the skilled mercenary. How is that?â€

James was curious over this odd question, more so than he was surprised it wasn’t Andross. “Well eh, guess it’s genetics, a lot of my family has those soldier traits.â€

“Very good to hear...†the man said, and by the tone of his voice he seemed a bit pleased.

His eyes were a little adjusted by now, but everything was blurry. The gentleman had white or gray fur, and looked to be maybe a wolf or cat. He was also accompanied by a few men who seemed to be soldiers. Their uniforms were blue, so they were either from Corneria or Macbeth. If his vision was sharper, he could tell what the secondary colors were, and if it was blue and gold he would be safe. If it were the blue and white of Macbeth, he’s in trouble.

“…Are you guys here to save me?â€

The man shook his head no. “I’m afraid not.â€

James was silent, not knowing how to react. The figure leaned his head closer to the fox. “I hope it comforts you to know that you’ll at least be saving me.â€

Puzzled by the man’s response, James could only lay there in paranoia and hope for the best. His backup men started to remove all of the tubes covering him and carried him onto a stretcher. He then felt a sharp sting at the side of his neck and he yelped in pain. He heard something along the lines of the man trying to get him to calm down, but the injection took radically quick affect and he only heard half of this.

As his hearing faded away, so did the sense of touch as his muscles drifted into numbness until suddenly he felt nothing at all. Flailing his arms and kicking his legs he did his best to escape, knowing the strangers were most definitely hostiles. Judging by what little he could see at this moment it seemed they had his struggling under their control.

His nerve system refused to give up as it made every attempt to do what actions it could get away with, even if the eyes were no longer a witness to the situation. By now they were completely blind. Most likely even his smell and taste have ceased to function, though there wasn’t an opportunity to test this right now.

But his thoughts were one hundred percent cleared by now, but with no clue on what was happening around him. Maybe he killed them all, maybe they killed him. He’s probably screaming, might even be crying.

Most of all though, he’s probably in hell.


Feel free to leave criticism... just be gentle XD

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  • 2 weeks later...

Aside from a few verb tense errors, I noticed one thing I have an issue with. When you're describing things through James's eyes, his brain seems very alert and capable of processing information, and he can move around in his pod, suggesting that whatever drugs they may give him aren't completely immobilizing him. When they start to unhook him, though, he is completely docile, despite being afraid/paranoid. As a top-notch mercenary, I'd think he'd try pretty hard to escape before the syringe, rather than wait until he was injected.

Other than that, there's not much to say. You've set up a decent, if a little short, prologue, and you seem to be a very competent writer. Good job.

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Hmm, I think someone brought up verb tense errors when reviewing a different fanfic I made a long while back. Probably gonna have to crack open the books to take care of that, but no big deal I suppose. I can probably work on the second issue too in a rewrite. Him attempting to flee could get fit in, and it can still go towards the same results in the end. In his state he couldn't get too far anyway, so the "Other group" wouldn't have to resort to anything drastic. So thanks, that gave me an idea to fill in the scene a little better.

That criticism doesn't sound all too bad, I can probably pull through this story. Thanks for the feedback :)

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  • 5 months later...

Well, six months later and I've got a new chapter written down. If you see the first prologue at the top of this page, dump it out of your heads, because I'm crossing that out of the story now. The ideas for the fanfic have taken a 180° turns, and if this kept on the original opening would just be encumbering the rest of the events that go along to happen. Since I already posted the progress in my Zelda fanfic recently, I'll go ahead and show all of you guys what I have here. Granted, this isn't the whole first chapter, but if I waited until the whole chapter were completed I'd be pasting a colossal wall of text that would likely scare off any newcomers. My writing progress has also improved significantly within half a year, so let's see the difference right here.

WARNINGS: Will likely contain frequent strong language, strong violence, (not to the point of mutilation, at least) use of fictional drugs, (will make it clear that these substances do more harm than good) themes of terrorism, a large variety of crimes, arson, murder, and jaywalking.

Fox McCloud,

I’m glad to see that you’ve finally reenlisted
Team Starfox
for mercenary work once again, I was afraid that I’d never see you out on the
battlefield again. I figured you’d keep on sneaking ‘round and picking off the scum of the earth one by one, like some kinda white-hat cowboy. It’s true that those stories of what you’ve been doing the past few months are merely just rumors. I know you certainly don’t want people to know that you were practically a serial killer, one with noble ambitions at least. Most of the guys you slaughtered would have been gunned down by the police in a matter of time anyway; just that it sounds like you enjoy dealing the punishment a bit
too much.

Ironically, mild torture during an interrogation and all that is actually legal in most countries down here on the planet Katina, but that’s beside the point. You seem to be the type that works towards the greater good, so long as it wouldn’t be unbalanced by senseless killings of course. I’m in need of a skilled combatant such as you, so that I can study your actions while on duty during your day to day life as a mercenary. The details as to why are complicated, I’d rather speak to you about this privately, and in person.

If you take up this offer you will receive one thousand Enon Fiats, the equivalent to six thousand Cornerian Credits. You have already been scheduled to arrive in Corneria City’s Orbital Gate, you will be sent to your destination at Booneville. Enclosed will be a document with the instructions on how I plan for us to contact each other, so that we’ll be able to discuss an agreement.

-Archibald Randolph Westin

. : . : . : . : . : . : . : . : . : . : . : .

“Never give up, trust your instincts.â€

-James McCloud

‘ ; ’ ; ’ ; ’ ; ’ ; ’ ; ’ ; ’ ; ’ ; ’

Chapter One: “The Arwing Pilotâ€


A scuffle of footsteps jumbled across the tiles a few paces forward, with the sound cutting off barely more than a second afterwards. Even with all of the commotion running rampantly across the mile long line, every single sweat-drenched passenger seemed to desire exiting this furnace of an Orbital Gate with each passing tick of the clock. For the Arwing pilot Fox McCloud, enduring transportation procedure would prove to be more demanding than disabling a Zeram-class Cruiser armed to the teeth with seven Gatling Laser turrets.

At least while on duty as a mercenary, he can shoot the prick in the face. Thanks to the security checkpoints here, however, you can’t even carry anything as deadly as a toothpick.

Fox groaned under his breath and tapped at the ground to idle his time while he awaited his arrival at the next roadblock: a scanning booth. Beads of sweat erupted from the pores in his forehead due to the sweltering heat of this planet, at least compared to the relatively cool climate of Corneria. He absentmindedly reeled his arm up to his head and wiped the sweat off with one of the sleeves to his jet black, button down shirt. This resulted in him to receive a forceful elbow from the one behind him: his vulpine girlfriend, Krystal.

He sagged himself over his shoulder to give her a bewildered look, being greeted by a moderate scowl and crossed arms. “Well, isn’t that gonna smudge the suit, or something?†she asked, half filled with scorn, and half filled with uncertainty on the subject herself.

Fox shrugged, taking a few steps back to be parallel to his blue-furred girlfriend, in order to maintain an eye on the line’s status in the corners of his vision, while he put the majority of his focus into the current conversation. “I dunno myself personally, I never wear suits or anything that often. I’m sure it won’t mark it that bad anyway if it could, this shirt’s black enough to let any stain go unnoticed.†For added reassurance, he pointed at his blazer that he had draped over his shoulder. “Besides, I could always cover it up with this jacket thingy right here!â€

Eying him a little, Krystal thought on it and sighed in annoyance with fingers ruffling through her forehead. Not adding a retort onto the conversation, she seemed to signal that she dropped the subject. Noticing that something went awkward a few seconds into the silence, Fox cringed and gave her a wary look. This went unnoticed, as she was occupied staring at the line’s traffic, so he reached out his arm and wrapped it around her shoulder. Jumping at first to the unexpected maneuver, she quickly eased and leaned herself closer to her Fox.


Snapped out from the subtle but sweet moment, the pair scattered forward for the next position in the line before anyone behind them started yelling at them for not paying attention. Thankfully they moved within a decent time period, so they went by without being the target of complaining. With not much to do anymore, Fox examined his suit to be safe. Checking his sleeve for any marks, he verified that it went without any blemish, prompting a sigh of relief from him. He did notice his green necktie was crooked, however, so he readjusted it to flowing straight down.

“Hey, you think it was a good idea to use this tie here?†he asked, while tugging at the tip with his palm, holding it erect to examine it.

Raising an eyebrow, she gave it a loose glance, then swiftly turned her eyes right back to him. “Why? It matches your eyes,†she began, pointing towards his two emerald-green eyes. “Besides, not that many people wear green ties with black shirts these days. Not the ones I’ve seen, at least.†She then noticed an AC unit within a few yards from their position, so she leaned in its direction to feel the refreshing breeze, and then Fox followed suit.

He scratched the back of his neck over the matching eyes comment and squirmed inside himself a bit. “Well, yeah I guess… but you know I usually always wear that read neckerchief from my dad, right?†he said, slumping in poise slightly. Not wanting to come off as this sounding like another situation in which he misses his dad, he prepared an extra reason for good measure. “I mean, I’m so used to having something red dangling my neck and all. Force of habit and all, I’d feel out of place if I fall out of my comfort zone.â€

Krystal could read right through him on how much he’s attached to crimson neck accessories, knowing that he’d rather hold on to his father’s hand-me-downs. She’s rather not pry into this for obvious reasons, so she decided to veer the conversation in a slightly different path. “Well, how about that red and green striped one?â€


“Well, that was quicker.†He said offhandedly, as the two of them made two stepped forward, then he resumed. “Anyway, about the red and green thing, those matching colors kinda bring back bad memories.†Before Krystal had a chance to ask why, Fox was prepared to explain, and cut her off without letting her utter a syllable. “There was like, this clown that comes to my school once a year, Christmas the Clown. She wore a really tacky suit with a ruff, some face paint and all that, with the colors all green and red.â€

Krystal blinked. “Huh? Do you have that fear of clowns, or something?â€

Fox flinched and stammered out some words. ‘Wha- no, nothing like that! I’m just saying that the clown looked fucking ridiculous!†he spat out, rather too audibly than it should have been released. This naturally turned the heads of most within a meter’s reach, leading to the pair to be the unwanted center of attention from uncomfortable eyes and ears. The two shrunk within themselves, Fox pretend to take care of an ‘itch’ between his eyes and obscured the majority of his face with his palm, so then Krystal turned to the side and averted her eyes elsewhere.

Once the situation had died down, Krystal figured it would be safe to hop back into it. “So anyway, come on. You call that a bad childhood memory, just seeing something that looked stupid? I know you’ve gone through way tougher… stuff, in life. We just narrowly avoided bringing one of those things up, just about half a minute ago.†She said, referencing to how they barely got around the subject of his dad’s old neckerchief. “I’ve heard a lot of people have fears of clowns, I’m sure there’s a good reason.â€

Fox shrugged the comment that implied subjects on his father, knowing that it’d be a waste of energy to dive into that, but still couldn’t resist biting back at her other suggestion. “Hold it; I’m not some wussy coulrophobic or-“

“Oh really?†she asked, cutting him off, then gave him a quizzical look in the eyes. “I didn’t know you went around remembering stuff like that, I only read up on stuff related to me. Now tell me, what’s the phobia called that’s the fear of mascots?â€

Fox sprang back at the sudden interrogation and turned a shade of red. “Well... Pompom -phobia?†he stuttered out, looking down and scratching himself. Krystal flatly crossed her arms and slipped out a malicious grin. Fox sighed and turned his attention back to the front of the line. He just now realized that he was only behind three more people in this line; it felt as if the scanning booth were merely inches away.

The racket of a buzzer pierced the ears of my around them, slipping an inaudible yelp from Fox and Krystal’s mouths, and forcing them to jolt back slightly. The light embedded in the booth’s doorway flashed from its usual green to the sparingly seen red. Muttering ran among the crowds, all wondering what the hell is going on.

“Alert! Unidentified metal alloy detected!†blared out a machine’s monotone voice from over an intercom within the booth. “Disarm immediately, or hostile force will be used!â€

“What?†yelped a young man’s voice from behind the walls of the facility, muffled out but still audible. “Come on, I’m just packing an inhaler! They said I was clear back in Corneria’s Orbital Gate!â€

Upon hearing the commotion, Fox’s eyes sprang right open, and then he suddenly realized the weight tugging at his hands: a briefcase. He nearly choked on thin air when he was stumbling to elbow Krystal in the hips for attention. “Uh, Krystal…â€

She blinked and gave Fox a concerned look into his eyes. “Yeah, hun?â€

His head felt hot and his chest began to play an elaborate bolero of heartbeats. After looking over his shoulder for prying ears, he urged her eyes to follow the trail of his finger, which he used to tap on the leather exterior of the luggage. “We’re packing a lot more than inhalers in here…â€

. : . : . : . : . : . : . . : . : . : .

Alright, there was the first scene, hope all of you didn't vomit. That was only one of what will likely be three parts in my first chapter, but if the word count gets out of hand this could probably stand as a chapter on its own. I'm also sorry if the idle conversation was an unusual way to open up the story, and it might give you a wrong impression of what the rest of the story will offer. The part I'm content with however is that there will be a serious mood whiplash when the events in the story take a turn for the worst. This is also a way of showing how the members of Starfox still make a big deal out of the minor things in life, despite going through plenty more while working as a mercenary. As any sane fanfiction writer would always say, I'll keep the unofficial tradition and ask of you to leave any comments, criticism, etc.

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