[STM]

To those of you that don't know, OWIFG (Now Fanwerkz) are in the process of making a game called Fillin's Proclmation. I am releasing the story for it in chapters, it will run as a story not a script so relax an enjoy!
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Chapter one - Offline

Fillin hit the green button on the drink vendor and cracked the can into his tentacles, gulping viciously, the stuff tasted foul but for strange reason he was hooked, probably because it was the safest stuff to drink in the Southlands. He wandered over to the control room, there was already a slig waiting for him by the control panel.
"Situation"? Asked the Slig
"Still...nothing...the truck hasn't...arrived yet...an entire skit and nothing, not even a letter...from the HQ"! Fillin replied.
You may be thinking at this point, Fillin pausing so much, he's obvioulsy hiding something? No, Southland sligs are poorly educated workers, a slig is sent to the Southlands as a sliglet and brought up by the sligs already there hence forth, all Southlands sligs have the same limited speech abilities.

"So what do...we do"? Asked the control slig. "We need orders"!
Fillin rubbed the grime from his type two visors and scratched his lobe,
"Ok, well we could iniciate order 12"? Fillin decided, he had speculated doing it since the outpost first went offline.
"No, we can't, we...donot have the skills...to trek back...it's hundreds of miles". The control slig replied immediatley.
"We could make it...if we stop along a route...We know that Soulstorm Brewery is still open, and Monsaic Outpost '21 we...could-" Fillin buzzed in desperation.
"NO, it is...out of the...question, we stay here...and get on with life."
"But paramites are already low, the scrab cages are in a state of disrepair, the meeches haven't been reported in in months...we have like 15...worker scrubs that haven't already...pissed off...we can't stay." Fillin screamed.
"Leave Fillin".
Fillin left in a state, he was sweating vile grease and his visors where steamed up again.

There was a mudokon on the walkway and Fillin's brain was still purge with anger, he walked up to it and battered it across the face with his rifle, it sprawled across the walkway and landed in a heap, blood dribbled from it's face and it raised a hand in an attempt to stop the ensalught.
Fillin brought the rifle butt down over the muds head, a awful cracking sound filled ricoched across the mountains.
"I reckon you...where going to leave as well yeh...or are you happy staying here? Dying here alone, we could get the hell outta here...I got maps...but no one listens to me...fuck"! Fillin shouted.
He dropped a bullet down the chamber and it clicked into the barrel, his trigger finger quivered and the dazed mudokon looked up through battered eyes putting on his best pityable face. At the moment before Fillin squeezed the tirgger he heard the sound of mechanical pants sprinting towards him.
Fillin dropped the gun and turned to face the control slig surrounded by other sligs all had there rifles pointed at him.

He was about to ease back when he felt seering pain and his visor cracked.

It went dark.
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End of chapter 1