[STM]

Ok thanks everyone.

Firstly, a note has been passed to me by well. anon. to you guys, that I sohul not reveal too much of the story lest I spoil it for you all, I agreed and will only submit two maybe three more chapters until further notice, if you want to see my other work...it's here somewhere!

Ok Enchilado to answer your pretty blatant question: You will be aflying Slig yes, I wouldn't add it otherwise.
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Chapter 4

The door slammed shut leaving Fillin in the dark room alone, for now. He breathed a sigh of relief and crawled to his locker, after a few minutes he had fitted new goggles again and clambered into the flypants.

Flypant harnases as you know, are noisy, gas guzzling engines that allow sligs to fly with relative ease. In the southlands, no new flypants have come in in years, leaving the sligs with backward flypants working around an elasticated mechanism that has to be woud almost constantly to keep the pilot suspended in the air. Of course this puts any extra weapons out of the question.

Fillin flipped the catch that started unlocked the mechanism and began cranking the handle, after about a minute the turbines began to spin the wings slowly sending clouds of dust into the air, minurets floating around in spasms, the room was thick with dirt and it clogged up the long-untouched cogs inside the pants making it harder to turn the handle however, eventually, Fillin gained enough thrust to hover over to the door and pull the handle.

he carefully nudged the sails straight and flew gently out of the back door then, he took the skies, dropping the large sail as he did so, now he had to fly to the station, a mile away.

The station was completley empty besides the guardian greeter that lay against one of the pillars, riddled with bullet holes, inactive, there was some more of that vile adictive drink in a vendo to the left so Fillin hovered over and hit the button, the can fell but it was old, of course this didn't stop Fillin and he slurped the can greedily, next he hovered over to the station ticket vendo, there was no guard so he shot a hole in the button and a ticket rolled out of the dispensor, there was no safety bar because the techology was so remedial at best.
The timetable was smeared with grime and slurg sh- err poop (happy now enchilado)
but he made out that the next train would arrive when the sun hit the central mountain.
Another hour of tedious waiting.