[Mac Sirloin]

A lone Industrialist tank cruises across the horizon, it seems to be one with the setting sun, crude spray paint adorns its side with M1 A1 gleaming in gold and silver letters.

-nische-

In a small mudokon pub in Farzad a young mud is being sold as slave labor to an old and grungy Glukkon named Dooke, looking sternly across the table at the Vykker offering him the pale skinned boy, Dooke says;
"whats his name, you say?" "he hasn't a name sir, we call him
M1 A1." the Vykker responded dryly. "what did his parents call him I mean!" snapped Dooke, he wasnt in the mood for some snoody Vykker getting clever with him. "Hmph, well, when we got him, they called after him in mudokon tonge, but his mother caught him and said 'Simon be very careful these are bad nak...' we couldnt understand the rest." responded the vykker." he is the last of his tribe, the rest fled to the forest and were killed by our traps." through this, the boy simply stared from Dooke to his owner, hiding any sense of want. "I'll take him, whats your price?" Dooke grumbled. "two thousand, no less" the vykker said seriously. "Ga...ah ha ha ha!" Dooke chuckled, you would be wise to lessen that price" he said. You haven't any idea what this child is worth, if I gave him to you for less, I'd be losing profit from all the trouble he's caused!" the Vykker shouted, "fine, I'll by him for nineteen hundred fifty moolah." sighed Dooke. "SOLD, to the gentleman in the black shoulder vest!" said the Vykker light heartedly, "he's all yours, Dooke".