CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
In his long and danger-filled life, the creature known as Stranger had seen many things. He had fought with hundreds of Outlaws, battled fiercely against hundreds of Wolvarks, with either Clakkerz or Grubbs as his allies, with double-barreled crossbow in hand. He had seen beings go insane, and he had nearly gone insane himself from all the sometimes gory violence he had contributed to Oddworld. He had watched creatures fall from cliffs, drown, puke their bowels out, fall onto beds of spikes, get ground up by viciously indiscriminating meat grinders and fan blades, and so many other ways he could not count.
But he had never expected, in all those experiences, that he would ever get the chance to meet – and fight, and capture – the famous Mudokon Freedom Fighter known as Abe.
Now, as he sat on the cold, hard ground of Glukksonia across from Urchyn McAvi – who was, ironically, a Wolvark – with his enormous crossbow at his side and hat tipped down over his eyes, he stared down at the stunned forms of the five Mudokons he and McAvi had collected. Abe, recognizable by his blue skin and strangely orange eyes, along with a collection of totally un-Mudokon battle scars and some totally Mudokon tattoos, lay there in a crumpled heap with both big hands wrapped around his head where that last Zappfly had struck him.
How could one Mudokon get such a big reputation? he wondered. All that’s different about him is his skin…
That was when he realized a profound truth: there are a lot more differences than just the color of beings’ skin. Hearts and minds are all different, preferences are different…
He glanced darkly at McAvi. Even their evil rates were different.
“Tomorrow,” Stranger said, “we go doubletime…for Mantin City. I don’t want this…Mudokon on hand…any longer than I…have to.”
McAvi snorted. “What, is the great Stranger scared?”
“No,” the Steef growled. “just…cautious. And so should you. After all…this is Abe we’re talking about….You know his reputation.”
“Reputations aren’t the real thing,” the Wolvark reminded sourly. “And we bounty hunters are tougher than Glukkons and their wimpy Sligs.”
Stranger shrugged his huge shoulders. “I know….But there’s no harm…in being cautious.”
Deciding to end the conversation there, he leaned up against a rock. He and McAvi both knew they wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night, nor as long as they stayed together. No bounty hunter was worthy of trust, not even their own; as long as they stayed together, they were at risk of knifing each other in their sleep.
Stranger smiled coolly. This was the way of life he knew best. Maybe he’d go back to the Grubbs someday…but for now, this was the life he led.
* * *
|