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Damn, them sligs have a hard life, eh? o-o; Moremoremoremoremore!  |
Coming up!
Thank you all....
Well its only one chapter instead of two, but oh well. I kinda rushed it towards the end too.
Yep, their lives sure do suck for some reason.
Enjoy!
CHAPTER 5½ A HELPING ARM
She carried on beating up the slig. She breathed deeply in frustration as she punched mercilessly at the badly bruised slig, grabbing him every time he tried to crawl away and pulling him back to continue beating him. He screamed as the punches rained down on his badly hurt body, curling up to protect himself in vain as the two flying sligs watched, horrified. She’d gone from calm and strict to an insane monster. All because of that accident she’d saw that had driven her insane. Frisbee cried and held onto his brother, as the two watched in terror. They were guilt ridden as they did nothing to help the screaming slig, for fear of being beaten up themselves.
Eventually, the slig broke free from her tight grasp, and ran back down the alleyway between the light brown tents. She screeched and gave chase, but a large hand picked her up by her robotic left leg, making her dangle over six feet in the air. The two flying sligs looked and saw the bigger big bro slig had came back. The massive 14 foot tall slig held her leg in his huge green hand, looking unimpressed as she thrashed and struggled to try and get free to no avail. "PUT ME DOWN YOU STUPID MEAT HEAD!" She screamed, trying to grab at his masked face that just looked at her. The two flying sligs giggled from behind the support for the platform that rose high up above the dusty ground and against the cloudy green sky and skyscraper piles of tents. "She's gone nuts, Gadget!" Frisbee sniggered. Gadget chucked from where he hovered as she continued to screech and punch at the slig more than twice her size.
"Inuff ulready!" The big bro’s deeper than normal voice boomed, making her stop attacking for a moment. "Jus’ bicuz yo dun't know who diddit, dusn't mean yo c’n give each one uv dem dih recycler treatmunt! Someone wiz bound tih find out anywuy!” He spoke, tapping the side of her head with his finger. Because of his size and strength, it came out like a slap. She rubbed her sore reddened cheek, having gotten out of her madness.
“Uh, what happened? Brutus, what are doing?! The blood is going to my head!” She snapped.
“Yuh went crazy an’ startud beatun’ up ah guy!” He answered. She froze, having remembered her brutal assault. “Oh…My bad.”
“Yuh bad? Yuh bad?!” He exclaimed. “’E wiz screamun’! Yuh beat ‘im up ovah sum normal slig sum body spoke about! Ah dun't see why yur getting’ so emotionully invulved!"
Her masked face darkened in her eyes, scaring the big bro. She signalled to him to move his head closer to hers, which he did out of fear. When his smallish head on the end of his long neck was close enough, she grabbed one of his thick muscular face tentacles, and pulled his face closer to hers so her red eyes glared straight into his.
"I. Am. Not. Emotionaly. ENVOLVED!" She screeched. "I HATE EVERY ONE OF YOU SLEEP ON THE JOB IDIOTS! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WOULD LIKE HIM?!" She yelled, her female voice echoing through the outdoor Slig Barracks. Startled, he accidentally dropped her on the ground. She landed with a thud on her shoulders, flopping onto her back. "Ack!" She cried out in pain, before looking up at Brutus darkly.
"Um... Am... Gunna... Go git sum blitzpackuh!" He answered quickly before trying to run in his loud four legged pants, half-charging down the alleyway and knocking scruffy tents over. He'd seen enough of her rage.
"Ugh!" She tutted, getting up to her aluminium feet. She muttered insults under her breath along the lines of 'lousy useless wimpy meathead', stepping over the knocked over tents in the dusty alleyway as she left.
The two flying sligs flew out from their hiding place, and lower to the ground.
"Man, she's as mad as a scrab today!" Frisbee said, looking at the ‘building’ she had been guarding. “What do you think is wrong with her, big brother?" Gadget flew to the door of said ‘building’, and tugged it open. The ‘building’ was a scrap heap of metal that looked like it would fall apart, if it weren’t for the botched and bent nails that stuck out in places to keep it together. The rusty scrap heap was a ‘hospital’ of some sort for the lower class sligs, the ones that couldn’t pay for good treatment. Rumours spread of sligs that had died of infections from the unhygienic conditions there. Most sligs that got injuries would rather use their tents as a place for rest before being forced back to work, but they usually got infections too. Natzo was the blame for this torture the sligs thought, making things cheaper and worse for them and rules stricter. Only the higher paid sligs like big bros got any decent treatment or recovered in most cases.
"I don't know, but I'm guessing it has something to do with that slig's injuries! Let's go!" Gadget spoke, slipping through the open door. Frisbee hovered nervously after him, looking around the scruffy medical area. The walls of the hallway looked rusty, bent and like they were going to fall apart. The sound of sligs moaning in pain or screaming in agony could be heard through the doors that bended off their aged hinges. There was a smell of lack of hygiene and blood that drifted through the bent or half-open doors.
"What if she catches us, Gadget?" Frisbee said, fearful. He opened a door, before shutting it quickly as he didn’t see what he was looking for.
“Ouch, needles…Well anyway, she beat up that that guy just because someone told!"
"She won't catch us." Gadget reassured him, looking through more doors. He winced as he saw bad injuries consisting of skin tearing scrapes.
"She's gone away, and if she does, I'll take the blame." Frisbee opened another metal door and hovered through.
"Really?" Frisbee replied, unsure. The room was large and rectangular, with rows of brown scruffy beds. Light came in through the gaps in the bent walls and ceiling. Sligs lay on the beds laid out like coffins, some unconscious, some muttering in insanity, and others still as a still-life, starting to smell and losing colour in their skin. Those ones were dead. Upset at the sight, the two flying sligs tried not to look at them.
"Are you sure you wanna take the blame?” Frisbee said, hoping to change the subject and take his mind off of the lifeless bodies in the rusty room. “She's nuts!"
"'Course I'm sure, Frizz.” He replied, flying in after him. “I’d rather she killed me than you, you’re younger." "Oh…” Frisbee said, hovering higher up. With a better view point, he looked over the rows of dirty beds. “Thanks big brother!" "No problem." Gadget replied solemnly. He was enlightened, knew people were born and died, but wasn’t used to seeing it for himself. A slig on a bed closed his eyes, gave out a dry gasp, and stopped breathing. He’d just witnessed someone die.
Frisbee tried not to think about it and blocked the tears that welled up under his mask. “So how will we tell which one it is?” He said, trying not to sound teary. His throat hurt as he tried not to sob. Gadget pretended not to take notice to save him the embarrassment. He thought for a moment, trying to remember what that gossipy slig said, and those rumours. “We’re looking for someone who’s missing an arm…”
“Found him!” Frisbee nearly yelled.
Gadget followed his ‘brother’s’ voice, swooping down by a bed.
The pantless slig lay still on the cheap brown bed with his metal eyelids closed. He was covered by a blood stained blanket, with a tourniquet wrapped around his left shoulder where his left arm should have been. His only arm left lay draped over the bedside, without a movement, with a thin tube pierced through his skin that was hooked up to a drip that hung by his bedside. A tube was down the sleeping slig’s throat, to feed him in his coma. They stared in shock at the state of the slig. The room would have been silent if it weren’t for the tormented moans and screams of other slig patients and their flying harness’s humming and clicking.
"Who... Could it be?" Frisbee whispered. Wondering the same thing, Gadget hovered closer to said patient beside the bed, and looked at the only arm he had left. A paler-green scar ran down his shoulder to his wrist.
"It's... Dimitrio..." He replied, shocked and saddened. Dimitrio’s scar was something he had for as long as he was young, no other sligs he knew had one like it. He was saddened in part due to the fact he knew him a little and that he was one of the rare nice sligs. He didn’t deserve it in his mind. He looked at him, observing the state he was in, trying not to believe it. A tormented mental slig screamed from across the room.
"Why is he asleep?" Asked Frisbee. "Is he gonna wake up?" Gadget looked saddened.
"I don’t think so... They're probably keeping him like that to see if it’ll grow back or he wakes up..." He answered solemnly.
"But won't he be fine without it?" Said Frisbee, confused. "I thought losing an arm wouldn’t kill you."
Gadget froze. He couldn’t deny him the truth, it would come out sooner or later. Frisbee could tell by looking at him something was wrong.
"What's wrong?"
He know he couldn’t lie or ignore him, so he finally spoke up. "... If he only has one arm, he'll be no good for work...” He began, filling his younger sibling full of dread. “So they'll..." He couldn't bring himself to say it. They would just shoot him like a rogue mudokon and leave his body to rot somewhere. Natzo found it cheaper. A one armed slig couldn’t use a gun, couldn’t do most things a slig with two arms could. The industrial world was cruel and unsympathetic to those low in it.
He might of not said what would happen, but already Frisbee had figured it out. "Get rid of him!?" He screeched. "They can’t do that! He’ll live!” He protested. Gadget looked at him, wanting to reason with his brother. “I can’t change Natzo’s mind…” He tried but failed. Already the six year old was furious and upset. “They don’t have to!” He snapped, like his brother was to blame. “IT'S NOT FAIR! IT'S NOT FAIR! IT'S NOT FAAIIIIRRR!" He screamed in a vicious strop. The sound scared some of the psychotic or half-asleep patients, making them moan or shriek back in the scruffy metal room.
He cried in hopelessness, pressing buttons on the levers attached to his flying harness, and flew into Gadget's arms, sobbing uncontrollably and whining against him. Gadget tried to stay strong for his younger brother, but cried a bit too. He was right, it wasn't fair at all, and it was a tragedy. He wasn’t used to it, he heard about sligs dying or going to die, but never thought about it until now. He tried to hide his sobs as tears flooded from their masks and dripped onto the floor, the two oblivious as to how much it tickled their faces.
"I wish we could just get him an arm..." Frisbee sobbed. “Than that Natzo idiot wouldn’t shoot him…”
Gadget froze suddenly, his crying halting. Frisbee continued to sob as he thought. He had a brainwave, an idea. An idea that could help. Save a life.
“Get him an arm…” He whispered. His face lit up instantly. He grabbed Frisbee by the arms, and swung him around at high speed.
“Gaaadgeeet!” Frisbee howled unevenly as he was spun. “Whaaat aaare you doooiiiing!?”
"Frisbee, you're a GENUIS!" He beamed, before losing his grip. Frisbee went spinning away uncontrollably and bounced off a scruffy brown bed, nearly hitting a patient.
"What are you happy about? I thought you were sad!" He snapped, still depressed and flying back to his brother.
"You just gave me the best idea right now!" He yelled, ecstatic. "What idea?" Frisbee muttered, still sobbing. “I can’t believe you’re happy when someone is gonna die and you’re in a room full of dead people!”
"We can build him an arm out of scrap!" He answered, flying around the room like he’d just gotten his wings.
"Really? Cool!" Frisbee squealed, in a better mood. "But how? Won't that be hard?" Gadget partially ignored him as he flew over the sleeping Dimitrio and sang in joy, the sleeping slig not uttering or stirring in the slightest.
"I have robotics manuals written by vykkers, I have brains, and there is loads of scrap metal around here!” He beamed. “We could take some pants and try and rebuild the legs!” He nearly yelled. “I'll do the building, and you can help get the stuff!” Frisbee had stopped crying altogether, with just sniffles left.
"Okay, lets start now!" Frisbee squealed. "I'll get stuff, and you'll get the books!" "Right! Let's go!" Gadget shouted in agreement.
They both whizzed out at high speed of the miserable death-ridden medical room and above the shantytowns, in search of the things they'd need.
“We have to hurry though!” Gadget said less cheerfully as he flew against the polluted sky, dodging pipes and tent tips. “There’s no telling when Natzo could decide he’s done with him!”