:
I was begining to think you had given up... Seems I was oriven to be wrong.
Great chapter. I think they do have just about all of the things we have in a city and more. Oddworld is but a shadowy reflection of our own world.  Can't wait for the next chapter. |
Nope, i'm still writing. ^^ I'm writing more slowly than I did with the first Epidemic, mostly because I don't want to rush this story and end up ruining it somehow. And I guess you're right about Oddworld being like a reflection of ours, its actually a very good way of describing it.
Anyway, where the heck are all my comments? 8C
I put a lot of effort into writing these chapters so that they're interesting and tie together well. I feel kind of miffed when I spend so much time re-reading and tweaking my chapters and nobody has anything to say about them. Even if you don't like it, I would appriciate any critisism.
Anywho here's the next 'LOL SO THAT'S WHERE ALL MY CHARACTERS RAN OFF TO' chapter. ^^
The fastest way to get anywhere in and around Coal Pines was arguably by train. The underground workings of the city were composed primarily of criss-crossing metro lines that could take a person pretty much anywhere. While the tunnels that formed the train lines were impressively vast, they were virtually inaccessible to anything that wasn’t a train; the only way to get into the train tunnels to make repairs (or clean up a wreck) would be from under the lines itself, which were built specifically to serve that purpose. Unfortunately, quite a few people who lived off of the illegal markets of Mudos chose to set up shop in remote areas in these tunnels, and found that the unsuspecting train-goers above made for an easy target.
At first glance, the main station in the south-west end of the city appeared to be chaotic. It was located in an important business district of the city, meaning that vykkers, interns and sligs were constantly coming and going, day in and day out. To an onlooker, it would look almost as if somebody had tossed a pack of slogs into a meep pen; people were in a hurry to get wherever they had to be, bypassing others, pushing and shoving. Things were not really as hectic as they seemed, however. After a few months of working in such an environment one would realize that in reality their movements were nothing more than clockwork.
In the early hours of the morning, people were just getting to work. This usually led to a scramble, meaning that most of the departing trains would have a similar amount of passengers crammed inside. As the morning stretched on, only a few stragglers would remain, needing to be herded to their proper trains. Noon was lunch hour, therefore most passengers would be either departing the trains to start their second shift in the business area of the city, or boarding the trains on the north end where all the decent restaurants were. As the day settled to a close, people would be heading home, usually much more irritable then when the day started, and in a hurry to get home. Of course, it was impossible to fully predict where the crowds would be heading every day of the week, but after recognizing the average schedule of the population things became much less tedious.
Currently the time of day was evening. While the train station ran through all hours of the day, sunset and nighttime were usually the calmest times, meaning that all workers could relax a bit. This did not mean, however, that they were inactive.
A solitary slig was leaning against a pillar near a corner of the waiting bay. Its arms were crossed against its chest, tense, and its head was down. To anybody really paying attention this may have seemed unusual -why would a slig be by itself in a train station this late at night?- but for the most part nobody seemed to notice. The slig stood there, motionless and waiting, not even moving when a stopping train started to board. No distinguishing behavior on its part lead anyone to believe it was about to do something desperate.
A tired-looking vykker stepped into the room, briefcase in hand. It glanced down at its watch, making itself completely vulnerable to petty thieves, such as the waiting slig.
In one swift motion the slig detached itself from the wall and marched at a swift pace towards the vykker, its metal pants clunking heavily against the floor. The vykker didn’t even spare it a glance… until its briefcase was wrenched forcefully from its hands, that is.
The vykker let out a surprised yelp as it fell back, landing with a thump. Its eyes were wide, watching as the thief took off with the briefcase. It took a moment for it to recover from shock, but when it finally did, it scrambled to its feet, screaming. “Thief! Somebody, help!
He took by briefcase!”
The slig ran as fast as its mechanical legs could take it, bowling through a small group of vykkers on the way. It spiraled once, regained a grip on its stolen treasure, and continued onwards, huffing from both exhilaration and fear. Its feet were practically slamming the tiled floor as it skidded around a corner and bolted down a flight of stairs. The exit to the train station was near. Once it was out in the open, it could easily fit in with the hustle and bustle of the crowds, and escape with its stolen prize.
But it was not to be. A quick glance over its shoulder confirmed the slig’s worst fear; it was being followed. A pair of guards were tearing after it in full pursuit, armed with snuzis. Without bothering to get a closer look the slig kicked into full-throttle, clamping the briefcase over its chest with both arms. It swung around a corner, taking an alternate route in the hopes of ditching its attackers. For a while, it looked like its sudden plan had worked; the slig had lost sight of the two guards, and was the only person in this branch of the train station. Mentally praising its achievement, the slig ran around the corner, back towards the exit…
…and straight into the butt-end of a snuzi rifle, smacking the slig between the eyes of its mask. It dropped like a rock, its metal feet skidding out from underneath it. The briefcase was thrown from its arms in a great arch and slid across the floor.
Cursing, the slig tried to stand, only to have a snuzi pointed directly at its face.
Don’t move.
The armored intern had given an order, not a suggestion. The slig lowered itself slowly to the ground.
The second intern picked up the briefcase and held it under its arm. Bored-looking eyes surveyed the slig from behind his goggles. He had the look of a scrapper; his horns were frayed in several places, and he had a stance that suggested he was expecting an attack.
That wasn’t as exiting as I hoped it would be. He said, his voice reminding the slig of gravel being crushed under a tire.
What were you expecting? The first intern asked dully, leaning down to tie the slig’s wrists together.
A firefight?
The second intern smirked (an expression that would only be recognizable as a smirk to another intern) and crossed his arms.
C’mon Danny, don’t tell me you weren’t looking forward to a reason to kick the shit out of a slig!
Dan’s solitary horn twitched.
He did not enjoy fighting, not after all he’d been through. Nor did he enjoy being called ‘Danny.’
After the airship incident, Dan had undergone severe questioning from his superiors, all of whom demanded to know what had taken down the massive vessel. Dan had explained it to them over and over and over again, and when he’d finally drilled it into their minds that a mentally unstable, diseased intern had destroyed the ship’s generator, they somehow came to the conclusion that Dan could easily use this information against them. With this in mind, they threatened him. Dan was one of the few surviving people who knew what had happened on the ship, and they planned to keep it that way. What they had threatened to do to him was far from pleasant. Seeing as Dan fancied keeping all of his internal organs safely inside his body, he had no choice but to swear to never tell anybody what had destroyed the airship, or that he’d ever been on it in the first place.
As far as everyone knew, the airship crash had yielded no survivors.
This made Dan sick to his stomach. He was offended and disgusted that the airshipping company would choose not to take the blame for the crash; it had been triggered by their own experiments, after all. They found it much easier to just say that the crash had been due to a fluke in the generator, and was no flaw of their own. To Dan, this added insult to injury. Just because Nedd had died in the crash didn’t mean they could pretend he never existed. It was as if everything Dan had been through hadn’t actually happened.
After his questioning had been completed, Dan had been transferred to work in the train station. Due to the job transfer he‘d been separated from Red, who was possibly his only remaining friend. He didn’t know where Red had been sent. For all he knew, he could’ve been halfway across the continent, working in an entirely different city. This kept Dan awake at night. The events of the airship incident -namely Ian’s death- had left Red with slight mental instabilities. Dan could only hope that Red would be able to cope by himself.
Dan planned on tracking Red down someday. But in the meantime he was busy guarding a train station from petty thieves, and trying to ignore migraines caused by the constant bickering of his two associates.
Where the hell did Art run off to? Intern number 2, who was known by the alias of Mutt, asked. His unaffectionate nickname came from the fact that he had the aggression and gangly build of a junkyard slog.
‘Art’, the intern in question, walked casually over from around the corner, fiddling with his walkman. It looked as if he was supposed to be keeping up with his partners, but had no motivation to do so.
Oh, hey, you caught the slig. His bored green eyes flickered upwards for a second.
Nice job. Say, does anyone happen to have extra headphones? Mine are broken.
Mutt made a noise that sounded like a growl.
Where were you this entire time? He demanded. He jerked the captive slig to its feet, wrapped an arm around its shoulders as if they were buddies, and shook it around.
Why didn’t you help us catch our good friend here? Skillya needs somebody
to catch her dinner, doesn’t she?
With this comment, the slig glared at Mutt. Mutt looked unaffected. Dan sighed, irritated with all the conflict. He could feel his migraine returning.
Look, could you two quit arguing like little girls and focus on doing your jobs? Somebody has to return the vykker’s briefcase, and I’m gonna need help getting this slig to the holding room incase he tries to escape.
Um, yeah, about that. Art glanced back over his shoulder, stuffing his walkman in one of his armor’s multiple pockets.
The vykker back there is throwing a fit. If he doesn’t get his briefcase back soon he’s gonna explode.
Dan sighed moodily, grabbing the slig by his bound wrists. Mutt still had the briefcase under his arm, and was using his other hand to aim a snuzi at the back of the thief’s head.
Then lets just get this over with, all right?
Sure thing Danny, Art said casually, whipping out his snuzi just for the sake of holding it. Dan hissed something under his breath about ‘asking never to be called that’ before leading the way through the halls of the train station, towards the guard outpost.