Chapter 12: Battle

Fox dodged and weaved, avoiding the glistening blade at al costs. He was at a double disadvantage, for not only was the crowded layout of the area confining, he was unarmed.

"Of, I wish I'd brought my staff," Krystal moaned worriedly.

"Wouldn't have done much good," Slippy replied, eyes darting as he watched. "You wouldn't have been able to bring it inside."

"Fox is no novice to unarmed or close-quarters combat," Peppy said. "He'll manage."

The ebony fox appeared to be no novice to close-quarters fighting himself, though his style spoke more of a street style rather than actual training. He moved carefully, slashing out at Fox, who only realized the intent as he hit a table, and his opponent lunged. A quickly upraised arm deflected the attack, but the price was a painful gash that soaked his sleeve with blood.

"Arg!" Fox darted away, holding the wound.

"You want to know about Skye?" the ebon fox growled. "Then know this: Skye's life was one of pain, and misery, and suffering. He didn't get the chance to laugh and play. His childhood was work, and beatings, and blood. Your pain now is but a tenth of what he endured!" Peppy was in tears, and Fox's eyes were over bright, nearly blurring his vision. It seemed as if this black fiend was choosing his words for the express purpose of causing Fox as much pain as possible. "It was devoid of happiness, of love. No one cared about Skye!"

"NO!" Fox shouted, stunning the fox and allowing Fox to advance cautiously. "Peppy cared! Mom cared! Dad cared! I care! Do you think I'd even be here if Skye wasn't involved!"

"Liar!" He lunged again, and the blade plunged deep within Fox's left shoulder. Fox yelled and jerked back, the switch wrenching free as he grimaced and stumbled back to lean against a table. The ebon fox closed in, raring back for another blow, one that Fox couldn't dodge.

"Fox! No!" Krystal acted on instinct. Lunging, she grabbed a mug from a table nearby and flung the contents right into the blade wielder's face. He caught it with eyes wide open.

"Arg!" He fell back, eyes closed tightly and swinging the blade wildly to fend off any attacks. He backed into a table and groped at it, grabbing a fistful of napkins and blotting at his eyes, growling.

"Great shot, Krystal!" Falco cheered. "That stung, I'll bet!" Fox slowly pulled himself up, gritting away the pain. Then his sharp eyes caught something about his opponent.

Darting, he grabbed another drink, and imitated Krystal's attack. Again and again he doused the fox, going around in a circle to thoroughly drench him.

"Stop that!" he yelled, unable to open his eyes due to the downpour of drinks. At last, Fox positioned himself so his back was to his friends, and ordered in a low, intense voice,

"Face me!"

He turned, and all saw that Fox had seen.

They saw grey, and saw black bleeding into white.