[Munch's Master]

As I promised, an update. This chapter has very little happen in it I'll warn you know, and I don't think it's up to much, but it's part of a driving force in a character direction so I'll stick with it anyway. But first, a history lesson on my characters:

Some of you may recognise Arthur from the W@RF RPG. His origins were this fic, not the RPG. Same with Dek, in fact. Both were intended to be characters for this story and the followups all along, but I first chose to use them in W@RF to flesh out their personalities more. I try to do this with most of my characters so they aren't 1-dimensional, with the aim that even the most trivial character has a personality.

Dek and Arthur grew beyond that purpose though, hence their seemingly perpetual time in the RPG, and of course the RPG has established a link between them, although again I had created a link between them already for the purposes of this story. For those who don't know, Arthur's backstory is that he worked at Vykkers Labs, before transferring to a FeeCo, (then W@RF), then to the factory in my story. Dek was at the same Labs, then went to a different Lab, then W@RF. Wait and see what hapens next with him (I already know).

These characters have existed for over 3 years, and were invented when I first started on the story. So it's not RPG characters appearing in a fic, its the reverse. Also, this story is of course set after W@RF, so again, that might explain some character traits.

Just a little explanation/clearup for anybody who recognises the characters. Anyway, on with what IMO is the weakest chapter of the story, since not much happens and it is pretty short (don't worry, the following chapter is much better):

Chapter 16: Psych Out
In the Slig quarters, a mind ticked on into overtime even after the body had shut down for the day. Arthur dreamed.
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Walking. Walking towards a door. Is this Septik Snaks? It looks like it. Along the corridor are mudokons working. But nearer to the door, there are mudokons in pain. Further on they are dying. Corpses follow, then skeletons, then dust. Then Arthur saw that the door was not a door, but beams of light that gave the impression of a door. He walked through.
A Vykker hunched over something. Ws it Murphy? Yes, must be. But these surroundings? They aren’t Murphy’s quarters. Fear. Memories. Arthur saw the Vykker turn around. It was not Murphy, but instead a former friend from times long past. Arthur heard his own voice speaking.
“Dek?”
The Vykker shuffled across the floor towards a cabinet. “You disappoint me Arthur. I’ve been watching what’s been happening. I’m always watching. Always there.”
Again he felt his tentacles move of their own accord. “Yer a memory. The past. I’ve not seen yer for years.”
“No. but I’m here. In your head. Memories are light, and sound are they not? What are we? Light and sound. Everything is here. Everything you remember. And everything you are.”
“But not everythin’ you are. You ain’t real, right now.
Arthur then saw what Dek had been working on. It was an operating table, and upon the table, was him. His own body was lying on the table, chest cut open and innards on display for all to see. A strange sensation, as if his stomach had just fallen down through the floor and been replaced by an agitated Slog, struck Arthur. There he was, looking at himself. And he was being operated on.
Arthur took notice of himself, and observed something strange.
“There’s no heart. My-that……body there. There’s a heart missing.”
The echoed memory of Dek busied himself with a cabinet. “Yes indeed. Curious, isn’t it? ‘That body’, as you said, I know you recognise it as yourself. And like you said, there’s no heart. The heart is linked to the soul, isn’t it? Or at least it is thought to be. No heart, no soul. Your heart’s missing, so your soul is. I believe that says something about you, and what you’ve been doing. How you’ve been misled. Or mislaid.”
Mechanical pistons transported Arthur nearer to Dek. He tried to clasp a hand on his shoulder, but it passed through. Dek’s skin was transparent, appearing to be a hologram rather than solid. Again Arthur spoke “You’re speakin’ in riddles. That aint’ like ya. You ain’t real anyway.”
Dek ignored him and walked to a door, that Arthur could have sworn wasn’t there a moment ago. “I’d like to show you something. Another experiment I’ve been working on, besides you yourself.”
Arthur shook his head. “You ain’t been experimenting on anything. You ain’t real.”
Dek again dismissed Arthur’s rebuttal and pressed a button. Arthur watched, confused, as Dek and the room seemed to melt away, as if wet paint running down a wall.
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The setting had changed. Where was he? The Barracks quarters? No, wait. Like the Barracks, but not. No beds, for one thing. Instead, they looked like…coffins? Arthur turned. What? How? In front of him, where again there hadn’t been seconds before, was Lak. Wait, not Lak. Two Laks. And their clothing. One, dressed in white. A white robe, a golden halo above his head. The other, dressed in red, with horns bursting fro mthe top of his mask, and a crimson trident in one hand. The 2 figures started moving closer, and as they moved, they flickered, as if poorly recorded camera footage, their garb switching between the 2 over and over. They began to speak. What had started as the Devil-Lak, but was now switching from devil to angel so fast Arthur had no idea what he was, spoke first, patting Arthur on the shoulder. “Well done Arthur! You’re finally being a proper Slig! Bout time too! Keep it up. Yer might finally achieve summat now. I’ll be glad ta go fer a drink with yer sometime!”
The Angel-Lak, or was it Devil-Lak? Then spoke, shoving the other Lak aside. “What the Odd’s got inta yer Arthur? This ain’t like ya. Now I may not like ya, but you used ta at least stick ta yer guns. I admire that in a Slig, it shows guts. But now you’re just tryin’ ta fit in, ta be one o’ tha gang. D’ya really think anyone’ll ever accept yer anyway after what you’ve done before? All that you’ve done is drive away the only allies ya had. Best ta undo what you’ve done, or just go.”
The other Lak re-emerged, striking the speaking Lak to the floor. “What’s he talkin’ about! Listen Arthur, you go back ta yer old self, an we’ll make Scrabmeat of yer. I can tolerate you now, but nto if ya be that snivelling lil’ mudlover again.”
This Lak was then struck by the other Lak again, and then, as Arthur watched on, the 2 Laks forgot him ,engaged in their combat. One of them gripped the other by the throat, throttling him. But then, as Arthur watched, that Lak’s head exploded into dust and nothingness, the rest of his and the other Lak’s body soon mimicking this action. Arthur saw a smoking rifle barrel in the corner of his eye. The scene changed.
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Arthur felt as though a centrifuge was swinging him in an arc, and suddenly, he was the one holding the smoking barrel. Where was he now? The rifle range!? Arthur then moved. But not of his own accord, as if he was a puppet on a marionette’s strings. He tried to speak, but nothing in his oesophagus moved. He watched as his arms lifted the rifle, shooting down a wooden target. Walk on, fire. Target destroyed. Walk on, fire, target destroyed. He then saw the next target, only it was not a target, but Lak. Tied to a post, immovable. He watched as his hands pulled the trigger, and Lak slumped, a metal slug buried in his chest. He walked on, and now lined up at a mudokon. Who, he didn’t know. Just a mudokon. Again, unable to stop himself, he fired, and the slave fell, bereft of life. He felt and heard his own metallic feet stomping on the earth. Wait!? Jeff? Now it was Jeff tied to the post, and a gunshot later, it was Jeff now deceased. Then Max, shot through the head with Arthur unable to do anything. Arthur gulped, as then Trevor was sighted on through the rifle, the mudokon giving him a look of disappointment as he fired the rifle. Arthur felt himself walk along the firing range again, and saw that the next target was Larry, and again, Arthur was helpless to watch as the mudokon’s life was exterminated. And then, Arthur saw, tied to the post, himself. Once more, with no power over his actions, he looked through helpless eyes as the rifle came up, the cartridge was loaded, and the weapon fired at himself. A sudden change of perspective, and he was the ‘him’ on the post, watching himself administer the lethal shot. A shimmer in the air, like a heat haze. The scene dissolved.
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Arthur woke up.
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There it is. Comments, opinions, critiscisms, whatever. Next chapter will be a little longer wait due to real life, expect it between 1 week and a week on Saturday.