[Splat]

I just realised this chapter was deleted by the hacker, its about time it appeared again. I wrote the following chapter in about half an hour last night (New record!!!) so I'll post that next week probably. In the meantime, read this again if you wish.


Chapter 16


Abe

One of the sligs walked in and looked around. "Hey, Mud. Get your butt over here or you won’t have one!"
Standing in a shadow, I farted loudly. The slig wasn’t an idiot and walked into the shadows and looked around. I was now standing behind the shadow and he came through and spotted me. "Hey, freeze mu- Well look what we have here! I’m gonna get a lot o’ cash for catchin’ me a terrorist." He grinned at me and pulled out a walkie-talkie. "Hey, Boss? I got me a-"

"Too late." I interrupted, and at that moment, my brew-charged fart exploded, taking the slig down with it.

There were yells from outside and three more sligs ran inside, having heard the explosion.

They paused just inside the door, standing back to back in a triangle, guns raised in full, co-ordinated and well trained military stance. It must be said, I was rather impressed, I wouldn’t have fancied trying to sneak up on that.

However, what they weren’t expecting was Splat to come leaping down on them from above, releasing shred power. The one nearest the door felt a shadow come over him and spun round in time to see Splat falling over him. There was a single gunshot and then Splat was on them, spinning like an out-of-control meat grinder, and diced them all.

He came out of the attack, surrounded by bits of slig and clutching his right arm.
"What happened?"

"Lucky shot," He answered. He spun some paramite thread out of the spindles on his back and wrapped it round his arm, where blood was seeping through his fingers. "Let’s get back to the others."

* * *

"See, now if you’d let me possess one of those greeters this wouldn’t have happened."
"You never asked to possess one of the greeters!" Alf pointed out. Splat was looking disgruntled and didn’t answer.

"Yes I did!"

"No you didn’t!"

"Yes I did, I distinctly remember saying ‘I should possess a greeter’ and Abe answering ‘No, don’t waste time Munch’!"

"Uh, I didn’t say that Munch," I put in.

"Yes you did!"

"Shut up Munch," Splat said darkly.

"No, I will not shut up! Not until you recognise that fact that if you let me have my way this wouldn’t have happened! Splat wouldn’t have bust an arm and there wouldn’t be bits of slig everywhere!"

Alf growled with frustration.

"Oh, ignore him," I advised, "He’s just doing it for attention."

"I am not. DON’T IGNORE ME!"

"See?" I said.

Munch growled. Splat spoke up. "Munch, shut up alright? We’re really not in the mood for this."

"I never am in the mood for it," I muttered. Alf grinned at me; I added, slightly louder, "Munch, calm down. Believe me guys, we’re in for a long, boring trip."


Amy

I don’t know why I made all those attempts at escaping. The odds of me getting out were about the same as Abe walking into the Cartel and kissing Maggie on the lips without getting shot.

I guess… I didn’t want to just give in to them. Gerent and Covdi loved torturing me; I didn’t want them to know how they were crushing me inside. Because a day never passed when I didn’t wish I was dead.

They found me just before they left the factory. It was pretty impressive, the way Martor had got all his sligs under control in just two days, even more impressive how he’d got Covdi and Gerent packed and ready to leave. And then they pulled me out of an air vent and shortly after me telling Martor about a malfunction on the second floor, he informed me that we were moving to a fleech farm in Odd-knows-where.

That was a new one. Normally I was kept away from flesh-eating animals. But I guess there was a guy somewhere grinning to himself about what would happen to Martor if I got killed. Valuable as I was, lots of people would see the bright side if it meant they had a good excuse to get Martor executed. He wasn’t a popular leader, and running a dead guy up and down Mudos was probably getting expensive.

As a queen I’m lucky enough to get a private carriage on a train. As the small queen I’m unlucky enough to have to share it with Gerent and Covdi. And as incredibly important vykkers they’re allowed to demand that we’re not disturbed for the whole of the journey.

Which gives them the opportunity to taunt me, insult me, cut me open, ‘examine’ me, pump me full of drugs to see if they effect me in any way.

Well I guess that’s why they do it. I hope it’s why. If Martor was there they wouldn’t dare, he’d probably go epileptic if he knew half of what they did to me when he was doing all he could to keep me alive and well.

The trip took most of 25 hours (one Oddworld day). Covdi and Gerent packed up their tools and hid away the syringes they’d emptied into me so they would look all sweet and innocent after the trip. They let me o and threw me into a cell in the carriage and left me to my own thoughts while they ran over the results of whatever they’d just done to me.

I felt weak and my body ached, sort of how I did just before laying, though I wasn’t due to lay for another 40 days or so. The thought came to me that they’d been ordered to mess with me to get Martor in trouble.

That’s what I was to the Cartel, a tool. To help them with their problems, not just for my children. I was barely seen as a mudokon, I was just some toy they could play with whenever they needed a bit of help in one job or another.

I had been a prisoner all my life and it didn’t look like changing. Through all the times I’d been told I was nothing, I was just a little industrial pawn, I was ready to believe it.