In an ideal world there would have been no war, no need for the men that War bred, or the carnage that would often follow. In an ideal world, Star Fox would have ended its tenure with the generation that formed it, James McCloud would have survived, and his surviving friends would have grown old--happy, thoughts of the war a distant memory to all that had endured it.
There was a distinct, though detached, directionless thought born of the emptiness that crowded Pigma now, even as he writhed in his torment, whispering whether it had all been worth it in the end? The thought wrought something more, of course, a force which had lingered for longer--much longer, still. Waiting for something to end so that there might be some modicum of peace to be found. Maybe.
Pigma might have known it once, he might have known a smile, a warm laugh, the sad glimpses masked by bad jokes told over drinks. The force drew closer, and its presence was naught the warm thing that guided Fox from the depths of Andross’ collapsing keep on Venom--nothing so whole, or so full of love, or hope--it was something else. A ruined reflection--damaged, staring beyond the veil of mirrored sunglasses long damaged, cracked, bloodied, barely masking a emptied socket.
"T-That's besides the point and you know it, Pigs!!" Peppy sputters as he tries his damnest not to make a scene with how much he's panicking right now. And loudly too. In fact, a few of their fellow cadets from the same block at the Academy recognize the pig and rabbit pair, prompting them to whisper ridicule among each other behind Peppy's back. "Word spreads! People talk! And stars know girls can be gossipers! I don't want Ms. Lapin to think I'm just... just... loose!!"
“So much for hittin’ it big... hreheh, what a waste of time...”
Pigma trudged slowly back to his ship, his steps ever heavier, ever slower as he does. The only sound breaking the silence was the labored breathing of the old swine as he carried himself in defeat. All the while, the aliens continued to clamor and swarm around, ever following the pig as he drifted. He kept glancing down at the artifact he had. He KNEW it was looking at him now. He could feel its imaginary eyes staring right into his soul. He heaved for breath as he kept trudging along, unheard voices whispering in his mind, their words less a speech and more a scratching, skittering noise. It was comparable to a dead audio input, or a droning white noise.
“That... damn noise... have to be imagining it... gyah, get out of my damn head...!”
Pigma muttered to himself feverishly as he pushed himself along, the fatigue of the walk taking its toll on his unhealthy body. He gasped for air, the glass in his helmet fogging as he breathed. In the near distance, he saw a faint light - the light of the stars outside, glowing faintly and illuminating his ship. Almost there. He just needs to reach his ship, and then... he wasn’t sure what next. He had no one left to turn to. Star Fox would be on his trail soon too, and they would find him here. Even if these damned aliens defeated them, what good would it do HIM? He can’t sell the artifact. He can’t use it to push an advantage - he had no advantage. It was clear to him now that these things have an agenda of their own. They’re intelligent, or at least share an intelligence. He was a fool for trying to use them, he realizes that now, but it was too late to go back. They were attached to him. Attached to the artifact.
“Hroohreh... guess my luck never really turned around at all.... s’whole mess has jus’ been.... one misstep after another... jokes on you, Pigma, yer the biggest sucker in the Lylat system now... hrah hrah hreh....”
Pigma clamored into his space craft weakly. The noise was unbearable now, and it continued to intensify and deafen him. The insects were all staring at him, judging him. Damn them. Damn them ALL! How dare they?! What do they know?! Know of what Pigma has done!? What he did to.... James McCloud. To Peppy Hare. To Wolf O’Donnell. To Andrew Oikonny. What. Did. They. Know. NOTHING! Pigma sneered at them all, gnashing his teeth furiously as he closed the hatch of his ship and departed from the landing pad with a rumbling of his ship’s rockets. The old swine winced his eyes, light tears rolling down his fat wrinkled cheeks. The isolation was unbearable. The loneliness was crushing. The loneliness that he caused, that he brought upon himself. He could lie to himself about it no longer... because he had no one left to lie to.
“Dammit! Dammit, Pep! Jim! I’m sorry.... Lylat’s stars, I’m sorry... Wolf... you were right to hate me. I never deserved your respect.... Andrew.... gyuh.... you stupid kid! You’re probably dead! I were s’posed to watch yer ass... I never wanted ya to die... dammit.... dammit! Damn me!”
He sobbed lightly to himself. His whole life, he had pushed people away from him, and now that he had none left to push away, did he feel the true weight of loneliness. The aliens could feel it. Sensed it. Fed on it. They whispered to Pigma, in his despair. The noise now became words.
“Join us”, it says. “Join us as one flesh. Let us be together. Together as one.”
Pigma strained to block it out. He didn’t want to hear it. He stares down at the artifact, knowing it is calling to them. Knowing it is trying to get inside his head. It IS inside his head. He can feel every word like a spider’s leg crawling inside his skull, creeping through his mind.
“It is incredible. Your flesh will become our flesh. Our greatness will be your greatness. One mind. One Body. You must join us. Must.”
The pig could take it no longer. He reached down to grab the artifact so he may jettison it out of his craft and be rid of it... and that was when Pigma realized, he no longer had a right arm. At least, not what he recognized as an arm. It was elongated, twisted. It glowed dully with faint greens and blues, his fingers and hand now more of an indiscernible mass of flesh and machinery. The artifact glowed a bright, hellish red, the swine’s eyes went wider and beadier than they ever had before in his life. It was already changing him. It already had him. It was too late for him to escape.
“.... looks.... like... my jig is up then.... to hell with these bastards. I won’t let them take me... Pigma Dengar ain’t no one’s fool.... but my own....!”
Pigma’s ship drifted past the station as he counted his options. The aliens followed, and the pig knew he had but only one choice to try and save himself from their swarm. He stared at the stars surrounding him in all directions. Long gone where the asteroids. There wasn’t a planet or moon in sight. It was almost peaceful. The pig closed his eyes, it reminded him of younger days on Papetoon, staring up at the night sky with his friends, dreaming of a life in space. He was ready. It would only hurt for a moment. Using his free hand, Pigma unbuckled himself from his seat, and shakily reached for the control of his ship’s canopy. He opened his cockpit to the vacuum of space.
It only hurt for a moment. Then, he felt nothing at all, as the old pig drifted lifelessly out into space.
📝- A memory of them getting to know/meeting my muse 🔗- A memory about their proposal/wedding 🌟- WILDCARD
📝- A memory of them getting to know/meeting my muse
Pigma Dengar.
He wasn’t familiar at all with the name, but Peppy had spoken about the pig often while they were in the service together. Don’t go by appearances, Jim, his father always told him; perhaps Pigma was capable to handle the pressures that came with being a part of a mercenary team, unfaltering in his skills when in the heat of a mission.
If there’s anyone’s judgement he trusted most in all of Lylat, it was Peppy Hare’s.
“Pleasure t’meet you, Dengar. Name’s McCloud. James McCloud. Peppy, here, says you’re quite the genius when it comes t’mechanics ‘n piloting – glad t’have you as a part of the team.”
🔗- A memory about their proposal/wedding
“Is there a way to propose without proposing? I’ve been less nervous when gettin’ shot at than I am right now…” James had spent a better part of the afternoon, ring box in his pocket, pacing back and forth in his room while trying to talk himself through this – he was an completely nervous wreck!
What if she said no, or worse – wanted to break up with him?!
Surely he had given the relationship enough time to warrant such an important question, even if he’d wanted to ask Vixy Reinard the very simple four worded question since the moment he’d met her. There was no way to know if his girlfriend felt the same way that he did about this – they’d never talked about kids, or even a future far from the present … and here he was asking her to spend the rest of her life with him!
“I’ve got this … but what if I don’t– No,I’ve got this … I’m gonna do it, ‘n no matter how it turns out … I’ll have done it … ‘n that’ll be that …” Finally, he stopped long enough to look at the clock. They were supposed to be meeting for their date in a little over an hour.
James took a deep breath to try and calm himself. Perhaps he should practice more, but there wasn’t that much time left – he wanted this to go absolutely perfect. Hopefully, he pleaded to himself, she’ll say ‘yes.’
Please, say ‘yes.’
🌟- WILDCARD
“I went to academy for flight training – not art! C’mon, gimme a break, guys,” James laughed, ruffling the fur at the back of his head with his hand sheepishly as Peppy and Pigma cackled at his poorly drawn design idea for Star Fox’s logo. It was true; James was a pilot, not an artist. He was trying to go for something bold, dynamic, and cool but it ended up just looking like a jumbled mess. “Let’s see what you two can come up with, since I’m not good at this.”
It would be around supper time when the new logo concepts would be presented, with Pigma Dengar’s being the unanimous favorite. “I like it! It’s simple, but still bold – this’ll do just perfect! Ya really are a genius, Pigma. Great work!” He was like a child – giddy and excited. This was exactly what he was wanting, and this logo was gonna be the start of the trio making their own way in Lylat.
