CHAPTER ONE-HUNDRED-FOUR
Abe had no time to stand around and watch as his brave and potentially doomed army blasted away at the Keuja; he had to act with them. He had done enough in the past few days to deserve a rest, but as one of the great heroes – or so everybody said – he had to keep doing his job until there was nothing left to do. The Keuja was the biggest, nastiest, and toughest job he’d ever had to take care of.
But Oner, if nothing else, had inspired him. He would fight, and he would die, if need be, for the fate of Oddworld and civilization. The Keuja cared about nothing but power and the Dark, and would gladly destroy everything, if given the chance. Abe, Oner, the Sligs and the Mudokons would not give him that chance.
“For Oddworld!” he roared, and attacked.
The Keuja flailed out its tentacles, catching a Slig and throwing him end over end out of the battlefield, but Abe ducked and rolled forward to dodge, coming up with gun blazing. Oner was already at the base of the Keuja, swinging his electro-nunchuks.
To Abe’s surprise, the touch of Oner’s charged weapon sent a ripple of lightning down the Keuja’s armored body and caused the monster, huge as it was, to scream in pain.
Strange, he thought. Its greatest weapon is lightning, but it can’t stand up to that element itself.
He ducked away from a blast of lightning that threw chunks of turf all over the place. Lightning attacks weren’t easy to come by; where could he find a big enough source of electricity to batter the Keuja into submission or even death?
“Oner!” he shouted out. “Your nunchuks do the most damage – keep thwacking at it!”
The Slig backrolled away from a tentacle-swipe and landed hard on his rear end, but managed to throw a salute. “Got that –”
Another lightning blast flew at Oner, cutting off his words. The Slig rolled to the side in time to dodge it, and the SKRUT went flying in a cloud of rock and dirt ripped from the ground.
A voice from the heavens blasted down on the battlefield: “Everyone stand back! Launching missiles!”
Abe started to back away even before looking up to see who was talking. To his surprise, it was a matte-black Slig jetcopter circling above, arming its torpedo launchers and aiming toward the Keuja.
“Shoot!” Oner was shouting, running away as if his pants had caught fire. “Shooooot at it, Edur!”
With two roars of fire, a pair of torpedoes blasted out of the launchers and struck the Keuja head-on.
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