[MA]

sorry! about bloody time i got it done. what can i say, i got stuck for words.

CHAPTER 2

AMONGST THE FILTH

Nox sat eating, and watching M.O.M. on the TV. The slig presenting the show was making his usual cock-ups, and was currently looking into the wrong camera when Nox noticed through the glass pane of the metal café door, three sligs walking down the walkway outside towards the café. They were grouped together, and talking noisily. He knew two of them, they stayed in the same bunker as he did, #0049. They burst in noisily through the café door, and one of them was still talking to the other two,

“I said to him ‘I don’t give a shit if you do or don’t, ‘’cus its still gonna’ happen! Do you really think that they’d believe you, ya’ filthy mud!’” said the young and hyperactive slig, pointing a finger at the floor just in front of him, “and then he tried to grab my gun off me, so I just fuckin’ fired, mate. I just blew his brains right outta’ his head!”

He started laughing, and looking at the other two sligs faces, as if looking for approval, waiting for them to say he had done well, but nothing came. Instead, one said rather calmly “you are such a bloody liar”. Which resulted in the young slig suddenly trying to desperately convince him.

“I swear! I swear to ya’! I did it!-” he exclaimed in frustration, while the other slig that had not said anything yet just stood, leaning on the till, shaking his head.

The two older sligs noticed Nox, and nodded to him, to which Nox nodded back. The younger slig saw what they were doing and who to, and turned to them, to ask quietly,

“who’s that?” Which Nox heard.

All I wanna’ do is watch the box, and drink me tea. Just to be left in peace for once…Peace! PEACE! Heh heh, you don’t want that! You’re a flamin’ war veteran, boy! Yeah, you heard me! And yeh loved it, didn’t ya’!! Oh yeah, oh yeah you just couldn’t get enough of those bullets, couldn’t get enough of those livin’, breathin’ targets! Shoot ‘’em dead boy! Feel the heat from your rifle once you’ve fired a few hundred rifle bullets! Feels good don’t it…feels hot…ya’ cant blame the machine when the machine is just a piece of equipment, you’re the real machine-AAAWWW!! Nox scolded his mouth with hot tea, just to shut him up.

He held him self still for a moment, refraining from giving his mind the pleasure of hearing him yelp, until the pain passed. Then he realised what he had just done. Referred to his own mind as if it was someone else, not himself. But before he could overcome the shock of this, the three sligs suddenly appeared in front of his table, making Nox jump slightly, unnoticed. They sat around it, scraping the chairs and greeting Nox with “hello”, “how yeh doin’”, and “hi” from the young slig.

Nox tried to clear his head, to no great success, and replied.

“ Oh, how yeh doin’ Stollin, err…Wrask.”

The two older sligs looked at the young slig sitting next to them, and the one that had called the young slig a liar, called Stollin, said,

“We have another hot-shot with us, called Loke,” the young slig looked at Nox nervously, “he is rather fond of telling tall tales.”

“Oh right” Nox replied disapprovingly.

“’E got ‘ere yesterday afternoon, an’ ‘ad ta sleep in one o’ them stinkin’ tents!” Butted in Wrask, the slig that had been shaking his head by the counter.

He had the raspiest voice and worst pronunciation Nox had ever known a slig to have! He and Stollin were also both veterans of the ‘D & M’ war, staying in direct contact with Nox (who was slightly older, only by about 2 years, making both Stollin and Wrask 8, and Nox, 10) so that they didn’t drift apart and end up dead like most of the other ‘D & M’ veterans. The only ‘D & M’ veterans that Wrask, Stollin or Nox could find was each other, and Dran.

Nox didn’t serve directly with Stollin and Wrask during the war, as they would have been in 3 different platoons. The only slig that Nox endured the war with directly was Dran, who was, obviously, in the same platoon as Nox was in. Back then, Dran had been a Corporal, which weren’t amazingly high (2 ranks from Private), but it was hard for any slig to earn any type of militaristic promotion (especially back then), and had the 2 tattooed stripes on his arm to prove it. But after the war, Dran, due to creeping senility and old age, lost his stripes (had a black block tattooed over the stripes), some junior glukkon working for Dripick had said it was ‘irresponsible to give a half-mad, half-deaf slig a weapon and the rank of Corporal’. And so, 1 year after the war had ended, they were taken from him, and as they did so, (publicly, in the bunker, to Nox’s disgust) Dran’s face was as sane and serious as Nox had ever seen it.

The young slig, Loke, leant over the table to shake Nox’s hand, taking Nox by surprise. Nox wearily shook the sligs hand, and could tell that he was new by the feel of it, the skin on his fingers was soft, and there where no calluses on the palm of his hand, unlike Nox’s.

Once again, his violent thoughts kicked in, as if sparked by some memory. Ooooooohhhh, I see, you think you can shut me up do ya’. That was pretty clever back then now wasn’t it! Very creative. A great use of skill. Talking of skills, lets think about YOUR best skill! Yeah…I think its time we had a good think. That’s right, think…not talk……THINK!!! Nox was suddenly 6 years of age, one month into the ‘D & M’ war. He looked at himself in total and utter disbelief, and thought, I was in the bloody café a moment ago! What the flamin’ hell is goin’… He trailed off in his mind, suddenly realising something.

His mind was stable. No sadistic voice. No dark thoughts.

Then he took in his surroundings, and realised where he was, lying behind a small grass verge in what looked like a field of muddy grass. He could feel cold, wet mud against his back. He had a gun in his hands, standard slig issue rifle. Other sligs were lying beside him also behind the grass verge, and all shouting at each other. He could hear continuous gun-fire from behind the verge, and could see trees ahead of him, the sky was black and clouded. He wondered what was hiding behind this grass verge, and unsteadily got to his feet. A hand grabbed his arm and mercilessly pulled him down, he heard bullets zip past above his head, where he was just standing, a sligs face loomed dangerously close to his own and shouted above the din, “DO YOU WANNA DIE NEWBIE!?!”

Then he had a moment of clarity, and truly realised where he was.

“SHIT!” he said in reply, and gripped his gun tighter, suddenly tensing.

He heard the other sligs next to him shouting at each other, instructions.

“WE’RE PINNED DOWN, SIR!”

“WE SHOULD GET FRALL TO RADIO A UXB DROP ONTO THOSE BASTARDS!”

“NO, NO WAY. IM NOT HAVIN’ MY ARSE HANGIN’ OUT THE HOLE WHILE THERE’S FIREWORKS UP AHEAD!”

The army slang used back then suddenly came flooding back to him, and he tried to listen more intently, through the constant gun-fire. A slig captain with a Texas accent, shoulder pips and 4 stripes tattooed onto his arm, spoke up.

“NO ONE GOES OVER THE TOP, SLIGS! IF YEH DO, ITS SUICIDE! AND WE’RE RUNNIN’ OUTTA’ MEDI-KITS AS IT IS - WHAT THE HELL!” The captain was stopped short of a sentence, when he saw something coming from the tree’s. Nox and many other sligs looked in the direction of where the captains gaze fell, and where also shocked.

A platoon of around 50 sligs where charging towards the verge, they were allies, luckily, but that weren’t what was shocking. They were obviously charging Maylon’s slig forces, oblivious to the fact that they would get shot to shit if they ran over the top of that verge.

“THEY AINT GUNNA’ STOP! A GLUKKON MUST OF GIVE ‘EM AN OVER-RIDING ORDER…THERE AINT JACK-SHIT WE CAN DO TO STOP ‘EM!” Shouted the captain to his sligs. “MAYBE IF…CORPORAL DRAN! GET OVER TO ‘EM DOUBLE-TIME AND DO ANYTHING TO STOP ‘EM! CRAWL AROUND WITHOUT YOUR LEGS FOR ALL I CARE, JUST STOP ‘EM!”.

“YES SIR”, Dran yelled, and without hesitation, ran out in front, towards the charging sligs, waving his arms wildly, gun slung onto shoulder. Nox realised it was the slig that pulled him down, saving his life.

Then, Dran fell. A lucky shot. Nox was about to shout him but then noticed he was still alive. Dran eased himself to his knee’s and started screaming at the charging sligs to stop, but he was too far away for Nox to hear what he was saying.

“HE’S GUNNA’ DO US PROUD!” The captain shouted in praise.

But the sligs kept on running, and to Nox’s surprise, ran straight past poor Dran, wounded on the battle field.

“PREPARE YA’ SELF, KID. THIS AINT GUNNA BE PRETTY…YOU CAN HANDLE IT, RIGHT?” The captain said rather sympathetically to Nox.

“I CAN HANDLE IT” Nox shouted unsurely, received by the captains concerned face. “JUST DON’ RUIN YA’ LIFE KID!”, and before Nox could ask what he meant, he was being over whelmed by the charging sligs platoon running right past Nox’s platoon and over the verge, to the crackle of gun-fire.

“SLIGS, SOUND THE CHARGE!” Bellowed the captain, and Nox heard a bugle being played by one of the sligs. All sligs clumsily got to their feet, and began to run, shouting, over the verge to help the other platoon, lead head-first by the captain.

The noise of guns was almost deafening, and Nox could still here the bugle being played by one of the sligs, still sounding the charge. It was cut short. Nox couldn’t believe the bravery of these sligs, or perhaps stupidity. But right now that didn’t matter.

Absolutely pumping with adrenaline, Nox got to his feet, the butterfly’s in his stomach growing worse, and he started running over the verge, with the other sligs, gripping his gun tightly, arms like jelly due to the major adrenaline rush he was receiving.

Over the top, to join the chaos.

He saw one large, grey bunker ahead, with a long trench dug in front of it for the Maylon forces. All sligs ran across the muddy space between the verge and the trench, desperately trying to reach the trench, if only to kill all its Maylon inhabitants. Some slipping in the mud due to their robotic legs, soon being torn to pieces by metal slugs, others were shot dead while they ran, horrific sights were all around this young slig, Nox, and it seemed he was surrounded by older, tougher, sligs. He felt he didn’t belong there.

Running amongst all the other sligs, he looked ahead to see nothing but other sligs and gun-fire, directed at them. Death was just ahead of nox, and he was scared, and foolishly he started to run with his head down, looking at the muddy ground, his in-experience of war showing through. He ran through a puddle of red blood with a tattered, dead slig lying next to it, then fell over a pair of robotic legs lying twisted and half buried in the wet mud, its dead occupant spread limply. Mud was in his mouth and covered his face tentacles. Panting he quickly got back up and wiped his red visor as he set off again, noticing bullets landing into the mud all around him and the other sligs, with dull thuds. He then passed a slig gurgling on the ground and holding his throat with both hands, a small spray of blood escaping from between its fingers. His head ached badly from the sights of so much gore, so soon. He thought better of it and looked ahead again.

Despite seeing all this, Nox just kept on running, and taking pot-shots at the trench and its inhabitants. The recoil of the gun making his shoulder ache, the weight of it making his arms ache, he soon realised he was a lot weaker back then than he had first anticipated. Eventually he fired all 12 bullets in his gun, and couldn’t re-load while running. That’s when time seemed to slow down, and he heard something.

Hey……hey…you wanna’ live? Huh? Huh? Im here to help ya’…yeah, that’s right. And if you do what I tell yeh to do, we’ll get outta’ this thing. No time for blabbing, are yeh with me or not fuck-face!!

Yeah, yeah im with you.

Time seemed to restore itself and Nox found himself holding the barrel of his gun, he tried to hold it the right way but the new voice in his head said, No, leave it fucker! You wanna’ die?!? he ran with it, wielding it like a club, over slig corpses and mud, towards the trench. He heard bullets whistle past him, oh so close. But then a couple hit him, grazing his arm. It felt like 2 white hot bars had been pressed lengthways onto the side of his arm.

“FUCK ME!! AAAAAHHHH!!!” He screamed. Keep runnin’ pansy! I never said it would be fuckin’ easy!!

Eventually, he literally fell into the trench, and was faced with the sligs inside. Some of his own platoon had made it their and many were being forced to resort to close physical combat. Nox saw in the little time he had to think, a slig not far down the trench, trying to wrestle a gun off a slig, which then head-butted him in the face, but not making him let go. Nox could hear their disturbing, desperate words that they were shouting at each other, face to face. Whoever let go of that gun was dead…whether they deserved it or not.

No time to stand around! Get killin’ some o’ those Maylon bastards!! You’ll like it!!!

He was grabbed from behind by a slig, dropping his gun Nox suddenly found himself having a desperate struggle for his life, he could see a 5 inch combat blade nearing his throat. In the struggle he lost balance and fell over backwards, into more damn mud in the trench, the attacker underneath him. DO ‘IM! FER FUCKS SAKE KILL ‘IM! The voice in his head screamed.

He elbowed the slig underneath him as hard as he could into the ribs, about 7 or 8 times as the slig grunted in pain, whilst using his right hand to try and hold the sligs blade back. But he was right to think he was too young to be here, because the slig was evidently older and stronger than Nox, and that blade was slowly but surely making its way towards Nox’s strained neck. He heard a ‘pop’ and realised one of the sligs ribs had broken, a muffled cry. The sligs grip slackened and Nox grabbed the blade with both hands and turned over. Before the slig could compose himself, Nox was stabbing the knife into the sligs breastbone, between the ribs, again and again, hot red blood covering his hands and spraying indignantly onto his face and visor. Nox wailed in savage intensity, and the slig screamed in the immediate agony, but soon fell quiet, dead. All Nox could hear in his head was Again!…again!…fuckin’ again!…listen to ‘im scream…stab that piece o’ meat!! Oh yeah, oh yeah!!! The slig was already dead, and yet Nox continued to stab, the sadistic voice seeming to gain some sick pleasure from it.

Nox stood up once more, and picked up his gun, which was now muddy. Reload, your not hard-core yet! Nox reloaded, fumbling with the ammo box in the metal hatch on his mechanical legs, his fingers drenched in blood and sweat, heart pounding adrenaline. He proceeded down the trench and stepped over 2 dead sligs, not even glancing at them. He ran around a slight bend in the trench and met more Maylon sligs, 2 of them. They spun around to face him when they heard him coming, one already with his gun aimed at Nox. PULL THAT TRIGGER!!

And like an obedient slog, Nox did as he was told. He must of pulled the trigger before he’d even lifted his gun to shoulder height, but it took down the slig in 2 rapid shots. It stumbled around 180 degree’s on the spot then dropped stone dead, blood pumping from its chest. The second slig lunged at Nox, and pushing the slig away with his gun, Nox quickly realised that Maylons sligs in this trench must have been running low on ammunition. YOU HIT THAT FUCKER! YOU HIT THAT FUCKER, NOW!! OR WE’RE BOTH DEAD! Nox quickly grabbed the barrel of his gun (like he had done on the battlefield), and as the slig steadied himself after being pushed away, he mindlessly attempted to attack Nox again, who swung the butt of the gun, with a grunt, into the sligs face so hard it pulled the muscles in Nox’s arms, making his bullet grazes’ hurt even more. As the wooden butt made contact with the sligs face, it hit its leather mask and totally shattered its skull, causing the leather to split, shards of yellow bone and red gore splattering all around. The slig dropped instantly, its head unrecognisable, a bloody pulp. All was unusually quiet. Nox just stood there for a moment, blood on his face and visor, mud on his face tentacles, congealed blood on his hands, taking it all into that young head of his. His muddy and bloodied gun slipped from his grasp, and hit the trench mud with a depressing splat.

You did good, boy. You did good…

He could here another bugle, it sounded victory, for them!

“Victory…” Nox whispered, then fell face-first into the blood of his enemies. Totally and utterly mentally exhausted.

Suddenly, he was back in the café! And had the young slig pinned down with his right hand, onto the top of the table, by his neck. He was struggling to breath, and Stollin was trying to prise his hand away from the young sligs neck.

“I cant budge his fuckin’ hand!!”

Wrask then intervened and pulled Nox backwards, away from the young slig, with great difficulty. Suddenly realising what he was doing, Nox halted all resistance. The young slig was panting on the table, released from his grip.

“Sorry, oh fuck im sorry, I don’t realise what just…” Nox trailed off. That’s what yeh get, son! A little walk down memory lane! I know that ones your favourite memory, eh? How it all started…how I started…

Nox saw his gun on the tiled floor, and leapt for it without a moments hesitation, lying on the floor he put the barrel into his mouth, under his face tentacles. Im gonna’ end it all right now! He thought. NO! NO NOO NO!!! DON’T!!, The sadistic voice cried in desperation.

But then Wrask jumped onto him and ripped the gun out of his mouth so fast Nox could taste blood.

“Come on now mate…tek it easy”, Wrask said as he slid the gun across the floor away from Nox. And Nox heard the café alarms sound. Sligs would be here any minute now, to arrest him.

And lying on the greasy floor of the café, with Wrask pinning him down for Nox’s own safety, he realised he was clearly insane, and sobbed, pathetically. Not daring to look at Stollin, or Wrask’s face’s.

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once again, comments/queries/criticism please!
i can always change it for the better.

EDIT: when Nox has a backflash of his old war days, i changed the backflash from being set 1 year into the war, to being 1 month into the war, it makes more sense.
sorry for any confusion.

the third chapter is currently being written, so dont lose interest, please.