Yes, I started another fanfic, but I'll still be working on my other one....
This one won't be as morbid and has flashbacks in it, and a made up queen.
Enjoy.
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CHAPTER ONE: THE HYBRID
The tall old purple glukkon growled as he shifted the thick cigar from side to side in his mouth, flaking ash down his black suit that looked he had mugged it off Dripik and added more medals and badges to it. His red slightly glowing eyes glared at the door as a huge big bro stood by his side, eleven foot and eight inches high, clad in belts of ammo and some armour. He too looked darkly at the steel doors in the dark, metal and industrialized room, as a younger glukkon, a miniature version of Dripik almost, wearing a green suit he was forced to wear, stood beside the old glukkon and gazed glumly at the floor. The glukkon stayed rooted to the spot, resisting the urge to tiptoe up and down the room like he usually did when he was extremely impatient, which wasn’t rare. A rat hopped past in the windowless and dusty room, provoking the grumpy glukkon to screw up his face in disgust.
“Cecil, dispose of that vermin!” He ordered. He glared at the teenage glukkon, as if reading his mind. The younger one wouldn’t dare argue seeing his face like that, especially as that older glukkon had taken custody of him after his ‘father’ had died. Not a drone that had got lucky with the queen, but a worker class glukkon that had adopted him, to take over if anything happened to the Slig Barracks. Only problem was, his adoptive father had been killed along with those other two glukkons working with him, and Natzo ran the Slig Barracks, not him, as he was too young. He got custody of him too. He looked on in horror and squeamishness as the huge big bro who answered to Cecil lifted his huge chain gun, pointing it at the small purple rodent.
He squeezed his eyes tight shut as the big bro lifted his huge heavy gun, aiming at the creature that looked back at him with glowing green eyes. The older glukkon, Natzo, felt joy as the doors finally opened and two armoured walking sligs walked in. Cecil lost his concentration as he looked over. Snarling, he looked back at the rat as it made a leaping bound for the open doors and pulled the trigger. A loud series of bullets banged and bounced off of the walls as the two glukkons threw themselves to the floor to dodge being shot. The rat hopped out of the room and into the light like a doorway to heaven as it escaped quickly, leaving the glukkons lying flat on their faces and dodging past the armoured sligs.
Another walking slig tottered in, head held high like a girl and helped Natzo up as the teenager hopped and flipped on the floor like a fish. Smirking, the glukkon instantly returned to seriousness and looked at the slig, who poked at the floor with his metal leg. “Namanchier, get Junior Dripik off of the floor.” He ordered. Obedient, Namanchier helped the flopping glukkon up, glaring darkly as their eyes met. Natzo gave Cecil a dirty look for nearly killing him, but let it slide since he was following orders. His moody face curled into a smirk again as he looked at the two sligs that walked in, dragging someone, or something, in the dark room by the arms.
The creature wore nothing, not even a rag, and had its legs tied tight together. It had the green body of a slig, but had young mudokon legs at the base of its tail, and a mudokon ponytail. Its maskless face was a mix of mudokon and slig, tentacled and taking some shape of a mudokon head with white and black eyes that had moved higher on its head over time. It had long given up the fight, made clear by its bruises all over its naked body, a black eye and its lack of movement, letting itself be dragged by its black nailed slig arms.
The others looked on curiously at the apparent hybrid creature in silence, before Natzo broke it. He chewed at his cigar in his wide mouth, before speaking. “I see we have a mutant.” He spoke up. He laughed hoarsely, almost loosing that cigar in his mouth. “And we know what happens to mutants.” There was a sick charade of laughter in the room, left out by Junior Dripik and the terrified hybrid. His slig and mudokon mixed eyes went wide as a whine escaped his throat. “Dey git shot.” Cecil cut in. “So why are wih wastin’ our time here?” He spoke in a deep voice, made deeper by the fact he was bigger. Namanchier watched the hybrid as Natzo sighed. “Because, he’s not born a mutant, he’s fired, fired for becoming a mutant…” His head turned in the direction of two metal bins, fixed to the floor. “I’m sure you all know what to do…”
He laughed along with the other sligs as Namanchier giggled in a high pitched voice. Junior Dripik and the mutant didn’t however as they felt horror. Junior looked on in guilt and fear for the hybrid as he screamed, finally using whatever energy he had left to try and break free from the armoured slig’s grip on his arms. He kicked and shrieked as they lifted him above the bin on the left. Looking down it, he could see it wasn’t a mere bin, but some kind of transport to somewhere. It was a metal tube, a tube that was curved and smooth and was darkened out nowhere near the bottom. He shrieked as they lifted him further over the top, as he could still not see the bottom to this slide. Junior Dripik called out “Natzo! Make them stop!” Before one of the sligs froze. “Wait!” He ordered.
Silence fell in the room as the slig mudokon continued to whimper, cry, thrash and struggle. The slig on the right dragged him to Natzo, before examining his arm more closely. It had mud on it, mud stained green with crushed plants. In fact, the stains were on his chest and other arm too, making out a pattern. The slig muttered and dragged the mudokon slig across the metal floor as he walked up to Natzo.
The two bickered loudly while Namanchier leaned with his hand on his pants, looking down at the apparent mutant with Cecil. Junior Dripik looked at him too as the other armoured slig waited impatiently, tapping at the floor with the foot of his pant leg. With the argument ended, Natzo looked furious as he had lost it. “Well fine…” He snarled. “So he won’t be going to Skillya…” The mudokon slig sighed in relief, his body flopping against the hard cold floor. Cecil grunted as he looked at the bins, the left that led to Skillya’s Lair. A growl and a deep breath was heard from it, as a familiar creature breathed out. Cecil stepped nervously away from the firing bins, not wanting to be eaten like the rumours said happened to fired sligs. He sniffed and looked down at the hybrid, wanting to spit on him. “So whut ‘appuns tuh ‘im?” Natzo looked at the right bin and grinned. “He isn’t Skillya’s problem, he’s someone else’s…” The mudokon was filled with dread again as he was dragged back over to the bins. A sick laughter and screams of desperation filled the air as he was dragged over quickly, swung back, and thrown in.
He screamed as he slid faster and faster down the tunnel, going around and around as the voices from above faded out. He fell from the dusty pipe as it ended, falling flat on his front to the floor. He lay there, bruised and afraid, before opening his eyes.
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His first memories were when he was a newborn. Being cradled by the creature attached to its giant egg producing thorax that he knew as his mother. Being a hatchling, he was soon snatched from Sam’s chained arms and put in a nursery, along with dozens of other mudokon babies. There he grew up into a young child, learning how to clean and who was the boss – glukkons and sligs of course.
Being babies, toddlers and children, they had some better care, but not much. The grumpy sligs would still beat them, but only once or twice if they disobeyed something they were told to do. A beaten hatchling would probably be a bruised dead mess and obvious to the glukkons, who wanted more slaves after a shipment of eggs had been freed. He hated it there growing up. The place smelt of smelly babies and bad conditions like mould on the walls or trash left in the bin. The food tasted like the trash recycled into grey slop, which the babies would refuse until it was forced down their throat. The babies would howl and cry and whine and the sligs would bark orders. The place looked a mess that would shock a health inspector and make them want to take all of the children away. The beds were hard and uncomfortable, and they slept in a dark steel room whenever they liked it or not.
They were all young and he was shy, but he made friends. A younger mudokon, still light brown in toddler age, and another one, turning green and older than him. It made his life bearable, playing with the other mudokons, simple children’s games without toys, hiding and chasing and racing. When he was scared at night, he would talk to them if they were lucky enough to be shoved into the same bedroom. He hated the nursery, and ignorantly longed to go into slavery, thinking it could only get better. He was wrong.