Glory slig. (story).

[MA]

the story of a slig stuck between beating or denial, and haunted by his past.

GLORY SLIG

PART ONE: CLEANING THE MIND.

Written by: ‘Mollucks assistant’

PROLOGUE:

This is a story about a slig who is not sure who he quite is. Torn between beating or denial, neither seems to be a good prospect. He is not a ‘super slig’, does not possess some great power, he is just a slig faced with the grim prospect of having to live in this Oddworld. And having been through enough hardship already, his mind is in no fit, stable state. This is the gritty story of the rise of a hero, an Oddworld hero, the true story of how Oddworld heroes are made, no obscenity covered, no horror blurred, no pain numbed. This is how hard it really is, for the body, the mind…and the soul. Abe would have followed a similar journey, but it’s not my place to say if it was as hard as or harder than this tale. So if you’re looking for a romance story, this ain’t one. But if you’re looking for adult reading, in true Oddworld style, this is the one for you. Anyway, enough blabbing.

STRONG LANGUAGE & VIOLENCE THROUGHOUT STORY

CHAPTER 1

HOME

‘Nox’ is what was written in black pen on the peeling white label of his green locker. Along with ‘Slig Barracks - area 394’. Standard slig issue rifle propped up against the plaster wall. Butt end on the cold concrete floor. Expressionless, dirty white walls, every so often treating the eye to red brickwork through crumbled plastering. A green sleeping bag nailed to the wall and trailing onto the floor was to the right of the rifle, boxing the gun in between itself, and the tall, metal locker. The room was long and narrow with a single thin window at the one end, and a closed metal door at the other. It was full of occupants that were all sleeping in the sleeping bags lined across the two longer walls, all sligs without their mechanical legs on, of course, and all sleeping. All of them had the same setup as Nox’s locker, patterned against the two longer walls would be locker, sleeping bag, locker, sleeping bag (the sligs could put their guns where ever they pleased so long as they didn’t lose them). But despite having 28 out of 30 occupants in the room (2 were on night shift) including Nox, it was still cold and morning light was beginning to creep through the window at the end of the room in dusty rays. A loud 2 second buzzer blared from two speakers hiding in the corners of the room, and sleeping bags rustled and convulsed.

Nox crawled out of his sleeping bag and over to his locker. So did other sligs but in their own time. He pulled out his folded mechanical legs, unfolded the legs and got into them. The familiar feel of cold steel against his tail and stomach was always something to wince at, first thing at 06:00 am. He pulled up the small metal ball on the front of his mechanical legs to lock himself into them, the stabiliser. He picked up his rifle and a box of bullets from his readily open locker and opened the breech on the side of the gun, fully loaded.

“Shit”, he muttered.

He had forgotten to unload his rifle again. All guns were meant to be fully unloaded after lights out (if you weren’t on the night shift) for numerous reasons including renegade sligs and escaped mudokons getting hold of them. This was a blatant law one of the junior glukkons had stated word for word, after discussion with General Dripick of course. It was an offence punishable by court marshal and if found guilty, the firing squad. And hey, why not? They had enough sligs to go round. Why, this is Slig Barracks! World famous for the production of sligs.

All standard issue slig rifles were able to have 12 rifle bullets packed into them when fully loaded, and functioned like a semi-automatic. Nox shook the rifle bullet box listening to how many were inside. By the way it sounded, there must have been about 50 bullets left out of the original 200 rifle bullets. So he put the box in a metal pocket hatch on the hip of his mechanical legs, then pulled out another box of rifle bullets from the locker, these being brand new and full, and put them in his pocket as well.

“You never know what’s gonna’ hit ya’ next”, he muttered to himself rather sub-consciously.

“What?” said a slig behind him.

Nox turned to see who he was talking to whilst still putting the new box of rifle bullets into his pocket. Realising who the slig was (a friend), he replied,

“Oh, alright Dran”.

“What?” barked the slig called Dran, cocking his head in annoyance to try and hear better.

“I said, hello” Nox said louder. A couple of sligs were watching in amusement whilst getting changed.

Nox turned back to his locker and slammed it shut. He held his rifle in two hands in a relaxed state, waiting for the other 27 sligs in the bunker to finish getting ready (due to regulations in Slig Barracks, before anyone could leave their bunker, they had to wait until everyone was ready, to avoid un-armed sligs with no mechanical legs being attacked by mudokons or renegade sligs when everyone left the room, which Nox knew would never happen anyway). Some of the sligs were already ready of coarse, and were doing the same as Nox, just thinking or maybe wiping their guns. Nox started thinking weird thoughts again, stupid thoughts…dark thoughts, and found himself thinking about Dran, the half deaf slig he had just had a one way conversation with. And about how Dran never used to be half deaf and nearly senile.

He was 18 years old, and the average life expectancy of a slig was 20 years, if older they would most definitely be senile, or physically incapacitated. He started thinking of Dran with a huge ear-horn, that big it dragged on the ground, that big it could also be used as a bed. Silly thoughts again, thought Nox in his thoughts. Thought things in his thoughts. Thinking of Dran and his amazing listening-bed. Thinking of Dran 5 years ago when he was more fresh-faced and Nox was 5 years of age (sligs are born adult and mature, the only way age would matter with sligs is in experience), and how they served together in the ‘Dripick - Maylon’ war, how Dran was an experienced strong slig back then, and how he saved Nox’s arse quite a few times. Nothing heroic of course for Odd’s sake! He was still a slig, and they have one priority over all other priorities, them selves. No loyalty i’m afraid, maybe a quick flash of thought to save someone in a not-very-tight situation so they have the advantage of numbers, but never just to let them live. Thus is the slig way. Dran was a slig then, is now, and will be for a while longer…but not too long.

Most sligs were ready now, and were making for the door. The remaining sligs (about 5) were only loading up their rifles, and they were all in mechanical legs. Dran felt a blast of cold air and turned to his right to see that the door was open and the sligs were squeezing out, grouped around the door frame. He joined them and once outside after a bit of pushing he could see the sky, which had a green tinge to it around and close to Slig Barracks territory, but not directly above…that, my boy, was unspoilt.

Getting quite light now, he thought, and checked his watch. 06:13 am, unlucky number. Very unlucky indeed. Maybe you’ll get shot…maybe you’ll fall off the high, metal walkways…maybe even get outnumbered and cornered by mudoko- shut the hell up! He thought to himself. Whilst he was thinking stupid thoughts he was getting in the way of everyone else coming out of the bunker, #0049 bunker to be precise. One of many bunkers, all in a long line stretching the entire width of the Slig Barracks territory…about 17 miles. The bunkers were sturdy and had the same white plaster-work on the out side walls as it did on the inside walls. The outside had yellow stains stretching from cracks in the plaster though, due to it being open to the elements. And the bunker number was sprayed in black paint, using a number stencil, by the door, the number being about two foot in size, so it was noticeable from a distance. Everything, as usual, was about 50 feet from Oddworld’s surface, including the bunkers and some other buildings, all supported by many thick metal pylons, and below them (under the metal walkways) was the thousands of ragged and messy tents, all sprawling over each other, they were mostly for the mudokons to sleep in, but some unlucky sligs had to use them from time to time, mainly whilst doing the night shift.

The only safety you had on the busy walkways that webbed all over Slig Barracks, was a few metal railings, short enough to lean over, like outside of the slig bunkers come to think of it, because sligs were always crowded outside the bunkers when leaving them in the morning at around 06:00, and entering them at 10:00 pm. Seeing as they were the core working hours for sligs in Slig Barracks (unless it was your turn to do the night shift, which was usually about 2 sligs per bunker, per night. And they would have to guard the area given to them that night, until they heard the buzzer at 06:00 am, at which point they could retire to their bunkers for sleep while other sligs woke up and left for the day shift. They would have until 12:00 pm (afternoon), at which point the buzzer would ring a second time, waking up the sligs for work and a late breakfast, and also telling the day shift sligs it was dinner half hour). That’s why he couldn’t stand there thinking unnecessary thoughts, there was no room! And other sligs were getting a bit pissed off with Nox.

A slig who he couldn’t see from behind the crowd exclaimed, “Who’s pissin’ standin’ around, I wanna get to the café before that…” his words were lost in the rising noise the sligs were making to try and get out.

Nox heard this remark above the other sligs dull droning chatter, but didn’t bother with it. It was 06:15 am and the café (one of many in Slig Barracks, the only source of food) closed at half past, he wanted some breakfast. He started to walk down the walkway to a junction (a small metal room placed over walkways when their is a staircase, or a secondary walkway joining onto the original walkway. They never had any lights, but they were not meant for staying in anyway), it wasn’t far off as the walkway he was on had split off from the chaotic walkway he was standing on just a moment ago, that linked all the slig bunkers together. But this meant that it was no longer a busy walkway and therefore had no metal railings. All the metal walkways were quite wide anyway, about 5 foot wide. But if you fell…pushed, drunk or otherwise, that was it. No chance whatsoever. Just the height of the drop would kill you, or if not that, there was a good chance you would, not get impaled, but hit the thick timber poles for the many tents below and certainly break something important like your neck, spine or maybe your head. But Slig Barracks have got better things to be investing their moolah in, rather than metal railings! Have you seen the price of them in bulk order?!?

He reached the junction soon enough, and took the right turning walkway, as opposed to going left or straight on. When he walked back out of the junction, it was a straight walk to the café, and not far off either. Nox noticed it was getting lighter now, not afternoon bright light, but rising sun light, and Nox could smell grilled scrab meat too.
He walked in through the metal door, which closed itself behind him, and up to the greasy, metal counter. A mudokon was standing behind the counter (no cash machine as all food in Slig Barracks was paid for), looking bored with a pen in his left hand. Two mudokons worked a few feet behind him, there backs to everyone, cooking over an old, banged up red gas cooker. It was obviously filthy and covered in black grime.

“Yeah, I’ll have two of those fried fleeches and a good cut of scrab meat - rare, with a cup ‘o tea, two sugars and milk”. Nox said sharply to the mudokon.

He didn’t think it right to mistreat mudokons, and would go as far as to say that they shouldn’t be enslaved, which is true. Some sligs love it, others say that they volunteer to work in industry, which was obviously a pile of shit, but rarely you would find a slig that believes that they don’t deserve any of this. They usually kept quiet about it.

The mudokon scribbled it down nervously onto a small pad, which he ripped the leaf off and without a word gave it to the two mudokons behind him, then resuming his bored look. Nox had already sat down at one of the fixed-to-the-floor small round tables. Greasy, he thought. Everything in this bloody café is greasy. He put his rifle on the table, and relaxed. Checking his watch, 06:21 am, he noticed a slig was in the corner to the right of the door, he had finished his breakfast judging by the empty plate on the black and white chequered table, and was reading the only newspaper you could get at Slig Barracks, The Daily Deception. The front page portrayed a black & white picture of a slig wearing a top hat and waistcoat, holding a cane. ‘VALET GETS SERIOUS! Business troubles for Valet!’ was the title, but Nox remembered yesterdays front page of The Daily Deception, it read ‘MUDOKON TERRORIST ON THE RUN! Molluck looses control of his own employee’s!’. ‘Employee’s’ is a nice way to put it, Nox had pondered, but no point thinking of news-gone-by! Today’s a new day! A fresh start! Turn over a new leaf in this big, shit hole of a Barracks! And read about your favourite slig, Valet!

“Ugghhh!” Nox groaned bitterly.

Does every slig have this stupid sadistic voice in their head?! Just to the left of him, closest to the door was the TV. A small, black, portable TV that was currently tuned into a program called ‘name that trauma!’ with the slig called Valet as the host. The TV was hung on brackets near the ceiling.

“Oh for fucks sake!” Nox grumbled, admitting he hated this show and its host and got up to turn the TV over.

“No ya’ not” the slig reading the paper said abruptly.

Nox stopped and looked at him,

“Your reading the paper! You ain’t watchin’ this as well!” and Nox continued to walk towards the TV.

The slig closed and folded the paper, putting it calmly down on his table. Nox could see out of the corner of his eye that the counter mudokon was watching uneasily, but the cooks hadn’t noticed. He reached the TV and pressed one of the small black buttons, turning the channel over to M.O.M. (Magog on the march, a news programme). Come on tough guy, Nox thought grimly about the slig he had just annoyed. If he comes at ya’, give him a right hook in the face, then left jab in the stomach, and if he doubles over, knee ’im in the fucking face!! Yeah, yeah that’s right! You do ’im, you do ’im over good! Nox shook his head to rid these persistent black thoughts. He turned to go and sit back down, his back now to the slig. He heard the scrape of one of the old wooden chairs against the tiled floor, and Nox spun round to see the slig glancing at Nox’s arm, and making a hurried exit, slamming the door behind him.

Nox sat back down. Right hook in the face, left jab in the stomach…what a coward, eh?! What a wimp, you would o’ wiped the floor with him my son! You’d a took- Nox interrupted his thoughts by looking at whatever that slig had seen on his arm to make him leave. Oh, of course, a painful memory. Or memories. It was a tattoo of the letters ‘D’ & ‘M’ entwined together. It stood for Dripick & Maylon, two glukkons that started a war with each other over misunderstandings, broken allied trade route laws, and illegal procedures in ‘acts of war’ to put it simply.

Dripick was, of coarse, the boss/General Glukkon of Slig Barracks, and still was. Maylon, on the other hand, was a junior Glukkon. He ended up owning his very own Barracks through default when his father (who had adopted the Glukkon when he was young) died in an accidental explosion in one of the ammo dumps that were there. Due to his inexperience, he misunderstood Dripick’s plans of trade with them and assumed that they were hostile actions. Against his advisors wills, he stubbornly believed that General Dripick was trying to steal his fathers Barracks, and was going to send forces to intercept one of Maylon’s main trade routes. With his fathers death still fresh in his mind, logical tactics and thinking went out the window as the young Glukkon declared open war upon General Dripick’s Slig Barracks. No emergency meetings were called between the Magog Cartel and all its members (including Maylon and Dripick) as they literally did not realise what was happening yet, seeing as the actions were so swift, and the Magog Cartel were still overwhelmed in paperwork from Maylon’s father’s sudden death and the secret debts that had been festering within his account (millions of Moolah). Dripick, after hours of heated debate with his fellow advisor Glukkons, confirming that every route to avoid open war with Maylon was non-existent, and that the Magog Cartel would not be able to respond in time and call an emergency meeting if informed, so they saw no other alternative but to resort to conflict with Maylon, who had already dispatched slig forces. And by the time the Magog Cartel found out, it had already begun and there was no way out of the situation…legally. The war lasted for 3 years, Dripick, inevitably, triumphant, and Maylon was more than defeated, more than imprisoned for breach of Magog Cartel government procedures, Maylon was dead. But this war is a story for another time…

All sligs and other forces that were on the side of General Dripick’s Slig Barracks that fought in the war were declared war veterans, and given a tattoo, on the fore-arm, of the two entwining letters ‘M’ & ‘D’. Medals were not awarded to sligs, whenever they received a militaristic promotion or award, they had a symbol that represented it, and had it tattooed onto them (just a tattoo version of medals, pips or stripes).

This is the war he and Dran had fought in, of coarse. And only a few surviving D&M veterans were still alive in Slig Barracks, others had been killed in the war, killed in the line of duty after the war, or just died of old age. But nothing was ever mentioned of the suicide rate of these M & D veterans immediately after the war…

The spoils of war come at a price my friend…horrors…horrors my dear fellow. And you could say you got more than your fair share of horrors…more horrors than spoils, eh? Oh yeah…you got more than you bargained for didn’t ya’! eh?…eh!…EH!!

“FUCK!” Nox slammed his fists down on the table, and being quite a burly war veteran, scared the shit out of the mudokon just about to give him his plate of food.

The mudokon stood still, eyes wide, holding the plate.

“Just gimme’ the Odd damn food” Nox said wearily.

--------
what does anyone reckon so far? i can always change it for the better with a bit of constructive criticism, or quereies.

[Oddey]

I don't see much of a story here. Write down the first chapter or so before you post the thread. Other than that I think I want to hear the rest of this story.
Edit: Oh here we go now it's here. By the way when you post try to always spell with capitals first. It looks cleaner.

[MA]

yeah, it gets going after a while, i just need people to understand what sort of person this slig is before i launch him into anything. thanx

[Splat]

MA, you may have noticed this subforum is called 'Non-Oddworld Art and Literature'. That means you put any stories or art in here that aren't Oddworld-related.

Since any story with sligs and mudokons clearly is Oddworld-related, this belongs in 'Fancorner'.

[MA]

who ever moved this thread into fan corner for me, thanx. i must of accidentally made the thread in the wrong place because i was in a rush to get to work. sorry about the fuss and annoyance.

chapter 2 is currently being written, maybe today but most probably tomorrow it will be posted.

criticism and queries welcome!

[~^_^~]

I like it. Keep it going,

[MA]

sorry! about bloody time i got it done. what can i say, i got stuck for words.

CHAPTER 2

AMONGST THE FILTH

Nox sat eating, and watching M.O.M. on the TV. The slig presenting the show was making his usual cock-ups, and was currently looking into the wrong camera when Nox noticed through the glass pane of the metal café door, three sligs walking down the walkway outside towards the café. They were grouped together, and talking noisily. He knew two of them, they stayed in the same bunker as he did, #0049. They burst in noisily through the café door, and one of them was still talking to the other two,

“I said to him ‘I don’t give a shit if you do or don’t, ‘’cus its still gonna’ happen! Do you really think that they’d believe you, ya’ filthy mud!’” said the young and hyperactive slig, pointing a finger at the floor just in front of him, “and then he tried to grab my gun off me, so I just fuckin’ fired, mate. I just blew his brains right outta’ his head!”

He started laughing, and looking at the other two sligs faces, as if looking for approval, waiting for them to say he had done well, but nothing came. Instead, one said rather calmly “you are such a bloody liar”. Which resulted in the young slig suddenly trying to desperately convince him.

“I swear! I swear to ya’! I did it!-” he exclaimed in frustration, while the other slig that had not said anything yet just stood, leaning on the till, shaking his head.

The two older sligs noticed Nox, and nodded to him, to which Nox nodded back. The younger slig saw what they were doing and who to, and turned to them, to ask quietly,

“who’s that?” Which Nox heard.

All I wanna’ do is watch the box, and drink me tea. Just to be left in peace for once…Peace! PEACE! Heh heh, you don’t want that! You’re a flamin’ war veteran, boy! Yeah, you heard me! And yeh loved it, didn’t ya’!! Oh yeah, oh yeah you just couldn’t get enough of those bullets, couldn’t get enough of those livin’, breathin’ targets! Shoot ‘’em dead boy! Feel the heat from your rifle once you’ve fired a few hundred rifle bullets! Feels good don’t it…feels hot…ya’ cant blame the machine when the machine is just a piece of equipment, you’re the real machine-AAAWWW!! Nox scolded his mouth with hot tea, just to shut him up.

He held him self still for a moment, refraining from giving his mind the pleasure of hearing him yelp, until the pain passed. Then he realised what he had just done. Referred to his own mind as if it was someone else, not himself. But before he could overcome the shock of this, the three sligs suddenly appeared in front of his table, making Nox jump slightly, unnoticed. They sat around it, scraping the chairs and greeting Nox with “hello”, “how yeh doin’”, and “hi” from the young slig.

Nox tried to clear his head, to no great success, and replied.

“ Oh, how yeh doin’ Stollin, err…Wrask.”

The two older sligs looked at the young slig sitting next to them, and the one that had called the young slig a liar, called Stollin, said,

“We have another hot-shot with us, called Loke,” the young slig looked at Nox nervously, “he is rather fond of telling tall tales.”

“Oh right” Nox replied disapprovingly.

“’E got ‘ere yesterday afternoon, an’ ‘ad ta sleep in one o’ them stinkin’ tents!” Butted in Wrask, the slig that had been shaking his head by the counter.

He had the raspiest voice and worst pronunciation Nox had ever known a slig to have! He and Stollin were also both veterans of the ‘D & M’ war, staying in direct contact with Nox (who was slightly older, only by about 2 years, making both Stollin and Wrask 8, and Nox, 10) so that they didn’t drift apart and end up dead like most of the other ‘D & M’ veterans. The only ‘D & M’ veterans that Wrask, Stollin or Nox could find was each other, and Dran.

Nox didn’t serve directly with Stollin and Wrask during the war, as they would have been in 3 different platoons. The only slig that Nox endured the war with directly was Dran, who was, obviously, in the same platoon as Nox was in. Back then, Dran had been a Corporal, which weren’t amazingly high (2 ranks from Private), but it was hard for any slig to earn any type of militaristic promotion (especially back then), and had the 2 tattooed stripes on his arm to prove it. But after the war, Dran, due to creeping senility and old age, lost his stripes (had a black block tattooed over the stripes), some junior glukkon working for Dripick had said it was ‘irresponsible to give a half-mad, half-deaf slig a weapon and the rank of Corporal’. And so, 1 year after the war had ended, they were taken from him, and as they did so, (publicly, in the bunker, to Nox’s disgust) Dran’s face was as sane and serious as Nox had ever seen it.

The young slig, Loke, leant over the table to shake Nox’s hand, taking Nox by surprise. Nox wearily shook the sligs hand, and could tell that he was new by the feel of it, the skin on his fingers was soft, and there where no calluses on the palm of his hand, unlike Nox’s.

Once again, his violent thoughts kicked in, as if sparked by some memory. Ooooooohhhh, I see, you think you can shut me up do ya’. That was pretty clever back then now wasn’t it! Very creative. A great use of skill. Talking of skills, lets think about YOUR best skill! Yeah…I think its time we had a good think. That’s right, think…not talk……THINK!!! Nox was suddenly 6 years of age, one month into the ‘D & M’ war. He looked at himself in total and utter disbelief, and thought, I was in the bloody café a moment ago! What the flamin’ hell is goin’… He trailed off in his mind, suddenly realising something.

His mind was stable. No sadistic voice. No dark thoughts.

Then he took in his surroundings, and realised where he was, lying behind a small grass verge in what looked like a field of muddy grass. He could feel cold, wet mud against his back. He had a gun in his hands, standard slig issue rifle. Other sligs were lying beside him also behind the grass verge, and all shouting at each other. He could hear continuous gun-fire from behind the verge, and could see trees ahead of him, the sky was black and clouded. He wondered what was hiding behind this grass verge, and unsteadily got to his feet. A hand grabbed his arm and mercilessly pulled him down, he heard bullets zip past above his head, where he was just standing, a sligs face loomed dangerously close to his own and shouted above the din, “DO YOU WANNA DIE NEWBIE!?!”

Then he had a moment of clarity, and truly realised where he was.

“SHIT!” he said in reply, and gripped his gun tighter, suddenly tensing.

He heard the other sligs next to him shouting at each other, instructions.

“WE’RE PINNED DOWN, SIR!”

“WE SHOULD GET FRALL TO RADIO A UXB DROP ONTO THOSE BASTARDS!”

“NO, NO WAY. IM NOT HAVIN’ MY ARSE HANGIN’ OUT THE HOLE WHILE THERE’S FIREWORKS UP AHEAD!”

The army slang used back then suddenly came flooding back to him, and he tried to listen more intently, through the constant gun-fire. A slig captain with a Texas accent, shoulder pips and 4 stripes tattooed onto his arm, spoke up.

“NO ONE GOES OVER THE TOP, SLIGS! IF YEH DO, ITS SUICIDE! AND WE’RE RUNNIN’ OUTTA’ MEDI-KITS AS IT IS - WHAT THE HELL!” The captain was stopped short of a sentence, when he saw something coming from the tree’s. Nox and many other sligs looked in the direction of where the captains gaze fell, and where also shocked.

A platoon of around 50 sligs where charging towards the verge, they were allies, luckily, but that weren’t what was shocking. They were obviously charging Maylon’s slig forces, oblivious to the fact that they would get shot to shit if they ran over the top of that verge.

“THEY AINT GUNNA’ STOP! A GLUKKON MUST OF GIVE ‘EM AN OVER-RIDING ORDER…THERE AINT JACK-SHIT WE CAN DO TO STOP ‘EM!” Shouted the captain to his sligs. “MAYBE IF…CORPORAL DRAN! GET OVER TO ‘EM DOUBLE-TIME AND DO ANYTHING TO STOP ‘EM! CRAWL AROUND WITHOUT YOUR LEGS FOR ALL I CARE, JUST STOP ‘EM!”.

“YES SIR”, Dran yelled, and without hesitation, ran out in front, towards the charging sligs, waving his arms wildly, gun slung onto shoulder. Nox realised it was the slig that pulled him down, saving his life.

Then, Dran fell. A lucky shot. Nox was about to shout him but then noticed he was still alive. Dran eased himself to his knee’s and started screaming at the charging sligs to stop, but he was too far away for Nox to hear what he was saying.

“HE’S GUNNA’ DO US PROUD!” The captain shouted in praise.

But the sligs kept on running, and to Nox’s surprise, ran straight past poor Dran, wounded on the battle field.

“PREPARE YA’ SELF, KID. THIS AINT GUNNA BE PRETTY…YOU CAN HANDLE IT, RIGHT?” The captain said rather sympathetically to Nox.

“I CAN HANDLE IT” Nox shouted unsurely, received by the captains concerned face. “JUST DON’ RUIN YA’ LIFE KID!”, and before Nox could ask what he meant, he was being over whelmed by the charging sligs platoon running right past Nox’s platoon and over the verge, to the crackle of gun-fire.

“SLIGS, SOUND THE CHARGE!” Bellowed the captain, and Nox heard a bugle being played by one of the sligs. All sligs clumsily got to their feet, and began to run, shouting, over the verge to help the other platoon, lead head-first by the captain.

The noise of guns was almost deafening, and Nox could still here the bugle being played by one of the sligs, still sounding the charge. It was cut short. Nox couldn’t believe the bravery of these sligs, or perhaps stupidity. But right now that didn’t matter.

Absolutely pumping with adrenaline, Nox got to his feet, the butterfly’s in his stomach growing worse, and he started running over the verge, with the other sligs, gripping his gun tightly, arms like jelly due to the major adrenaline rush he was receiving.

Over the top, to join the chaos.

He saw one large, grey bunker ahead, with a long trench dug in front of it for the Maylon forces. All sligs ran across the muddy space between the verge and the trench, desperately trying to reach the trench, if only to kill all its Maylon inhabitants. Some slipping in the mud due to their robotic legs, soon being torn to pieces by metal slugs, others were shot dead while they ran, horrific sights were all around this young slig, Nox, and it seemed he was surrounded by older, tougher, sligs. He felt he didn’t belong there.

Running amongst all the other sligs, he looked ahead to see nothing but other sligs and gun-fire, directed at them. Death was just ahead of nox, and he was scared, and foolishly he started to run with his head down, looking at the muddy ground, his in-experience of war showing through. He ran through a puddle of red blood with a tattered, dead slig lying next to it, then fell over a pair of robotic legs lying twisted and half buried in the wet mud, its dead occupant spread limply. Mud was in his mouth and covered his face tentacles. Panting he quickly got back up and wiped his red visor as he set off again, noticing bullets landing into the mud all around him and the other sligs, with dull thuds. He then passed a slig gurgling on the ground and holding his throat with both hands, a small spray of blood escaping from between its fingers. His head ached badly from the sights of so much gore, so soon. He thought better of it and looked ahead again.

Despite seeing all this, Nox just kept on running, and taking pot-shots at the trench and its inhabitants. The recoil of the gun making his shoulder ache, the weight of it making his arms ache, he soon realised he was a lot weaker back then than he had first anticipated. Eventually he fired all 12 bullets in his gun, and couldn’t re-load while running. That’s when time seemed to slow down, and he heard something.

Hey……hey…you wanna’ live? Huh? Huh? Im here to help ya’…yeah, that’s right. And if you do what I tell yeh to do, we’ll get outta’ this thing. No time for blabbing, are yeh with me or not fuck-face!!

Yeah, yeah im with you.

Time seemed to restore itself and Nox found himself holding the barrel of his gun, he tried to hold it the right way but the new voice in his head said, No, leave it fucker! You wanna’ die?!? he ran with it, wielding it like a club, over slig corpses and mud, towards the trench. He heard bullets whistle past him, oh so close. But then a couple hit him, grazing his arm. It felt like 2 white hot bars had been pressed lengthways onto the side of his arm.

“FUCK ME!! AAAAAHHHH!!!” He screamed. Keep runnin’ pansy! I never said it would be fuckin’ easy!!

Eventually, he literally fell into the trench, and was faced with the sligs inside. Some of his own platoon had made it their and many were being forced to resort to close physical combat. Nox saw in the little time he had to think, a slig not far down the trench, trying to wrestle a gun off a slig, which then head-butted him in the face, but not making him let go. Nox could hear their disturbing, desperate words that they were shouting at each other, face to face. Whoever let go of that gun was dead…whether they deserved it or not.

No time to stand around! Get killin’ some o’ those Maylon bastards!! You’ll like it!!!

He was grabbed from behind by a slig, dropping his gun Nox suddenly found himself having a desperate struggle for his life, he could see a 5 inch combat blade nearing his throat. In the struggle he lost balance and fell over backwards, into more damn mud in the trench, the attacker underneath him. DO ‘IM! FER FUCKS SAKE KILL ‘IM! The voice in his head screamed.

He elbowed the slig underneath him as hard as he could into the ribs, about 7 or 8 times as the slig grunted in pain, whilst using his right hand to try and hold the sligs blade back. But he was right to think he was too young to be here, because the slig was evidently older and stronger than Nox, and that blade was slowly but surely making its way towards Nox’s strained neck. He heard a ‘pop’ and realised one of the sligs ribs had broken, a muffled cry. The sligs grip slackened and Nox grabbed the blade with both hands and turned over. Before the slig could compose himself, Nox was stabbing the knife into the sligs breastbone, between the ribs, again and again, hot red blood covering his hands and spraying indignantly onto his face and visor. Nox wailed in savage intensity, and the slig screamed in the immediate agony, but soon fell quiet, dead. All Nox could hear in his head was Again!…again!…fuckin’ again!…listen to ‘im scream…stab that piece o’ meat!! Oh yeah, oh yeah!!! The slig was already dead, and yet Nox continued to stab, the sadistic voice seeming to gain some sick pleasure from it.

Nox stood up once more, and picked up his gun, which was now muddy. Reload, your not hard-core yet! Nox reloaded, fumbling with the ammo box in the metal hatch on his mechanical legs, his fingers drenched in blood and sweat, heart pounding adrenaline. He proceeded down the trench and stepped over 2 dead sligs, not even glancing at them. He ran around a slight bend in the trench and met more Maylon sligs, 2 of them. They spun around to face him when they heard him coming, one already with his gun aimed at Nox. PULL THAT TRIGGER!!

And like an obedient slog, Nox did as he was told. He must of pulled the trigger before he’d even lifted his gun to shoulder height, but it took down the slig in 2 rapid shots. It stumbled around 180 degree’s on the spot then dropped stone dead, blood pumping from its chest. The second slig lunged at Nox, and pushing the slig away with his gun, Nox quickly realised that Maylons sligs in this trench must have been running low on ammunition. YOU HIT THAT FUCKER! YOU HIT THAT FUCKER, NOW!! OR WE’RE BOTH DEAD! Nox quickly grabbed the barrel of his gun (like he had done on the battlefield), and as the slig steadied himself after being pushed away, he mindlessly attempted to attack Nox again, who swung the butt of the gun, with a grunt, into the sligs face so hard it pulled the muscles in Nox’s arms, making his bullet grazes’ hurt even more. As the wooden butt made contact with the sligs face, it hit its leather mask and totally shattered its skull, causing the leather to split, shards of yellow bone and red gore splattering all around. The slig dropped instantly, its head unrecognisable, a bloody pulp. All was unusually quiet. Nox just stood there for a moment, blood on his face and visor, mud on his face tentacles, congealed blood on his hands, taking it all into that young head of his. His muddy and bloodied gun slipped from his grasp, and hit the trench mud with a depressing splat.

You did good, boy. You did good…

He could here another bugle, it sounded victory, for them!

“Victory…” Nox whispered, then fell face-first into the blood of his enemies. Totally and utterly mentally exhausted.

Suddenly, he was back in the café! And had the young slig pinned down with his right hand, onto the top of the table, by his neck. He was struggling to breath, and Stollin was trying to prise his hand away from the young sligs neck.

“I cant budge his fuckin’ hand!!”

Wrask then intervened and pulled Nox backwards, away from the young slig, with great difficulty. Suddenly realising what he was doing, Nox halted all resistance. The young slig was panting on the table, released from his grip.

“Sorry, oh fuck im sorry, I don’t realise what just…” Nox trailed off. That’s what yeh get, son! A little walk down memory lane! I know that ones your favourite memory, eh? How it all started…how I started…

Nox saw his gun on the tiled floor, and leapt for it without a moments hesitation, lying on the floor he put the barrel into his mouth, under his face tentacles. Im gonna’ end it all right now! He thought. NO! NO NOO NO!!! DON’T!!, The sadistic voice cried in desperation.

But then Wrask jumped onto him and ripped the gun out of his mouth so fast Nox could taste blood.

“Come on now mate…tek it easy”, Wrask said as he slid the gun across the floor away from Nox. And Nox heard the café alarms sound. Sligs would be here any minute now, to arrest him.

And lying on the greasy floor of the café, with Wrask pinning him down for Nox’s own safety, he realised he was clearly insane, and sobbed, pathetically. Not daring to look at Stollin, or Wrask’s face’s.

--------------

once again, comments/queries/criticism please!
i can always change it for the better.

EDIT: when Nox has a backflash of his old war days, i changed the backflash from being set 1 year into the war, to being 1 month into the war, it makes more sense.
sorry for any confusion.

the third chapter is currently being written, so dont lose interest, please.

[~^_^~]

Wow..thats awesome man! Keep it up!

[Moosh da Outlaw]

This is a really gripping story, keep up the good work!

[MA]

CHAPTER 3

JUSTICE…PERVERTED

Just as Nox had thought, a group of 4 security sligs and 1 mudokon soon arrived and handcuffed Nox without a word. He could faintly remember hearing shouting, arguing. It sounded like Wrask and one of the security sligs.

Nox couldn’t remember much about what happened after the exhausting ‘re-live’ of his war days, ‘The Charge of Bunker D-14’ to be precise, and lay on the floor of the café in a daze, soon injected with a heavy sedative by a mudokon working for the security sligs, forcing him to become completely unconscious…and helpless.

All became black, and he dreamt…oh how he dreamt. Dreamt about things he didn’t want to dream about. Dreamt about war, dreamt about the violence he had endured when he was a young slig in the ‘D & M’ war, of the horrors he had set sight upon, of the stressful situations he had got into, of the mental strain it all forced onto him.
So young…so young.

“I shouldn’t of been there,” He mumbled through numb silence, “I was too fresh…too…too innocent.”

But worst of all, he could hear the voice in his head.

Now look what yeh gone and done…eh? Now look what yeh gone and done! You’ve fucked it up as usual! Now what they gonna’ do with ya’! now what the FUCK, are they gonna’ do with you!! Oh, and by the way, that was a real smooth move you did in the café, stickin’ yer gun in yeh gob! You stupid, stupid, STUPID fuckin’ idiot!!! Where they gonna’ take yeh? Where yeh gonna’ wake up? Im bloody disappointed in you.

…you…are a killin’ machine…the sooner you realise that, the quicker we’ll get out of this shit!

“Why? Why were you so strong today? Your like a stench! You just wont go away! It was just another day, why suddenly force me back to my war days!!”
Nox started shouting into solid darkness, “Why make me attack another slig!! What was the fuckin’ point?!? He was a FRIEND!! What’s wrong with you?!?…ANSWER ME!!” He finished on a bellow, then all silence consumed him once more, the relentless pitch black of his mind never ceasing, never failing.

Because im the one keeping you alive, sonny-boy.

A strong, musty smell overwhelmed Nox when he started to come around. Before he opened his eyes he could hear echoing, robotic slig footsteps, muffled. The smell of old dust and dampness became ever stronger, and he suddenly sprung bolt upright with a gasp, to find himself lying on top of a wooden board, in the corner of a small, metal-walled cell, a windowless metal door to his right.

“Shit”, he sighed, putting his face in his hands, “well done Nox’y old boy, you’ve got yourself into Custody”.

He could hear robotic echoing footsteps again, outside the cell, he looked up towards the door in the tiny cell, and heard the slig footsteps echo closer, closer…then begin to fade away.

He got off the supposed ‘bed’ with a weary heave, surprised that he still had his mechanical legs, and felt his head pound.

“Fuck me,” Nox grumbled, “what did they inject me with, Scrab tranquiliser?!?”

The walls were a metallic grey, seeing as they were metal, and not painted. He touched the dark steel with the tip of his finger, cold. The floor was green marble, and echoed when you stepped on it, he also noticed a camera high in the top corner of the cell, silent and still, the black lens small and shiny.

That’s enough deep thinking fuck-wit, concentrate on what’s goin’ on here and now, not the bleedin’ camera and walls.

Why don’t you just shut up!

Listen fucker! Lookin’ at camera’s an’ shit aint gonna’ help yeh at this moment in time is it?!? So do me a favour and get yourself outta’ here!!

He heard echoing slig footsteps outside once again, growing louder. Just when the footsteps usually began to fade away again, they ended, and Nox tensed, readying himself for a slig to enter. The door gave a clank, and it swung open, banging against the metal wall loudly, at Nox’s expense.

A slig was standing in the doorway, letting 2 other sligs armed with truncheons to enter the small cell with Nox. Nox held his hands in front of him, gesturing to them not to come any closer,

“whoa lads! Im gunna come quietly, just tell me where im goin’.”

The 2 sligs stood in front of him brandishing the weapons threateningly…but uneasily. They glanced at each other quickly, trying their best to keep their eyes on Nox.

There more afraid of you than you are of them!! ‘Ave em over, son! Beat ‘em down! Mess ‘em up! Show ‘em what veterans are made of!!

The slig standing at the back, in the doorway, spoke, whilst holding a piece of paper in his right hand,

“Veteran class Private Nox, we’ve already arrested you on suspicion of assault,” he droned, “you do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence…what defence?!? Err…yeah, if you do so. Anything you do say may be used in court as evidence against you. As you know, slig, you are army class, meaning you will not be going to a general court, but to a court marshal” he looked at the piece of paper he was holding in his hand, “says here you’re a veteran from the ‘D & M’ war, not many of them left.” he remarked as he looked up from the paper to stare at Nox with intimidation.

The 2 sligs in front of Nox were still uneasily focused on him, as if he was about to set off a bomb. Nox still had his hands up to keep back the 2 truncheon-wielding sligs, his head was pounding even more now.

“Yeah, I was, now why the bloody armed guards?!?”

There gonna’ start something, show ‘em a move or two!

“well, you assaulted a fellow slig…you might understand me better if I use the term ‘comrade’”, the slig replied sarcastically, “don’t you remember? Shall we ‘jog’ your memory for you?”.

The 2 sligs glanced back at him.

Yeah definitely, im not just sayin’ it now Nox, there gonna’ ‘ave you if yeh start actin’ naïve! Just do ‘em now dammit!!

“enough of the fuckin’ sarcasm,” Nox started, clearly annoyed “I’ve been through more shit these past 5 years than you’ve ever been through. What do you do anyway? Got a nice, cosy security job for this building? Maybe do a bit of pencil-pushin’? You must be half my age and yet you act like a bloody glukkon!” Nox was flinging his arms about in frustration, “Show some respect and listen, I said I’d come quietly, I’m not gonna’ start a brawl! Especially in these circumstances!”.

“oh sorry what was that? Your gonna’ start a brawl? I think we need to persuade you to calm down by force-”

Nox sharply butted in, “That’s it! You just try it! I really wanna’ start smashin’ your fuckin’ face in lad!!” he yelled, pointing at the slig “You got 2 sligs that look like their gonna’ piss ‘emselves, and you, the runt of the bunch! You really think you can take me down? Look at the tattoo!” he held his fore arm up aggressively, starting to lose control, “I’ve seen more action than a fuckin’ randy scrab in a breeding pen!! Come on! Lets see what yeh got!!” breathing heavily, he held his arms up ready to grab the first truncheon that might swing towards him.

That’s the one, my boy! I’ve not seen you this willing to fight since you were in that pub brawl last year! You sure showed him to keep his fat mouth shut, now show this one…

The slig at the back shouted “No don’t!…just handcuff him for Odd’s sake”.

Nox calmed himself down, and held out his wrists.

Whaddaya doin’!!! NO!! do NOT just hand yer self over to ‘em?!? They’ll beat ya’ the first chance they get once there on, mate!!

The 2 sligs performed a sigh of relief that big it was almost theatrical, then one pulled out a pair of handcuffs from the metal pocket hatch on the back of his mechanical legs, and slapped them on Nox.

The click of the handcuffs as they fixed around his wrists seemed deafening to Nox…it was one thing the sadistic voice was right about.

We’re fucked now…well done.

The slig in the doorway moved inside the cell, his ring of keys jingling on his mechanical legs, and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Well, seems your tough, but not too bright. Now we’re gonna’ show you what we do here.”

Before Nox could even take this in, the slig guard to his left grabbed him by the back of the head and attempted to pull Nox’s face down towards his metal knee plate, attempting to knee him in the face, but luckily, Nox’s mechanical legs slipped on the green marble floor, and he fell onto his knees.

Good! Good! Now let ‘em ‘ave it!!

Realising what was going on, Nox grabbed the truncheon from the same sligs other hand, and with both handcuffed hands, he heaved on it, making the slig let go of the back of Nox’s head and try and grab back his truncheon, to no avail.

THWACK

Nox let out a yelp and saw a flash of white before his eyes, as the second sligs truncheon made contact with the back of his head. Pain exploded within it, and Nox felt himself sway slightly on his knees, seeing brightly coloured dots before his eyes. In these crucial seconds, Nox’s hearing became muffled and distant due to his head injury, but he heard one thing.

Survive.

With his hearing still impaired, he swung his newly acquired truncheon with all his might at one of the left sligs robotic legs, causing it to buckle and break, and the slig to topple over with a cry. Nox unsteadily got back to his feet.

THWACK

Another whack, this time to his stomach.

KILL ‘EM!! KILL ‘EM!!!

Nox nearly doubled over, but took the pain and swung the truncheon towards the ‘whack-happy’ sligs face, there was a dull thud as it hit him on the mask, just below the eye-lens and he spun as he fell to the floor. Nox could no longer contain it, and he doubled over with a grimace of face tentacles.

“aaaaaaaaaarrrgh” he groaned, feeling dizzy again. He heard a jingling of keys.

He’s gunna’ get away! Kill that little shit!!

He looked up to see the sarcastic slig already at the door, fumbling with the lock.

Must be a slam-door lock.

Who cares?!? GET HIM!

Nox ran at the slig, his cuffed hands hanging low in front of him, letting out a wail as he went, his hearing still bad, the pain very real. Nox crashed into the slig with his shoulder, smashing him against the door with a loud, metallic thud.

Nox was then catapulted backwards as the door hit him in his side and 3 more sligs entered the room. Nox lay on his back, looking up at the dark ceiling, his hearing slowly drifting back. He could feel blood dribble down the side of his head, and hear slig voices.

“He just went berserk!! Started tryin’ to kill us!!”
“Don’t talk shit to me! I saw what happened on the camera’s, you were provoking him”.

Nox saw a sligs face hover above him,

“looks like you’ve been causin’ trouble, pal. We’re taking you to the court marshal, now!”.

Nox felt himself get lifted up onto his feet, and frog marched out the room. He closed his eyes, wandering why people kept shitting on him. His head injury was worse than he had first anticipated, as he couldn’t walk, and felt so, so tired.

He then spoke with a slur as they escorted him into the green corridor outside, “ this world is still chewin’ me up, when’s it gonna’ spit me out?”.

“soon pal, soon” came the sympathetic reply from one of the guards.

Good kiddo, you got through it. You’ll be doin’ a lot more o’ that if yeh get sent down! Oh yeah!!

Nox groaned as they walked him down the corridor, on their way to the court room.

Outta’ the frying pan, an’ into the fire, sonny boy.

-----------------
replies are welcome, and constructive criticism.

[abe is now!]

Will you write the chapter 4? I am waiting it !!!

[MA]

thanks, ive just started it...

[scrab queen]

Oh wow. 'more action than a randy scrab in a breeding pen', that's a good one.

I could certainly see this thing as a movie. I anxiously await your next installment!

[MA]

oh great! i was stalling with the next chapter 'cus i thought noone was reading it any more, but i'll hurry it up now i know there's life left in it.

tar.

[MA]

CHAPTER 4

BATTERED AND BRUISED

Nox was marched, or more like carried, into the courtroom by two sligs. He was taken to a wooden stand, where he would need to defend himself, and sat on a wooden chair. Directly in front of him was the jury stand, where ‘decorated’ military sligs and 2 glukkon juniors of Slig Barracks sat. A murmur arose from the jury as Nox sat himself down, surprised by Nox’s bloodied face; his head wound still slowly oozing blood.

Nox swayed on his seat, feeling drunk, and tried to peer around the room, having to wipe a smear of blood from his visor. The jury sat in the jury box ahead of him, with a slig sitting on a wooden stool at a small metal table just in front of the Jury stand, an old fashioned typewriter placed upon the table already loaded with paper, the slig typing the proceedings of the court case with a flurry of ‘clicks’. To Nox’s left about 20 wooden seats were lined up on the green marble floor, occupied by the ‘witnesses’ of the courtroom, to ensure things went accordingly. They consisted of mudokons (forced, of course), and simple factory guard sligs, excluding a few sligs sitting on the front row, they seemed to know what they were doing. They faced the Judge’s stand, to Nox’s right, the highest wooden stand in the courtroom, which was currently empty.

The courtroom itself had the consistent green marble floor, and wooden panelled walls, with white plastering covering the ceiling and a few ‘factory-style’ lamps jutting from the court walls, providing the room with a dull glow. These were alongside security camera’s, watching the court case closely.

The metal door in the wall to the left (from which Nox had entered the courtroom), suddenly opened, but in a relaxed manner, contrasting with the loud echo the huge courtroom produced. A Vykker shuffled into the room, and soon began to speak in its shrill voice.

“As you all know, the Chroniclers have had a recent, well, very recent dispute with a few Glukkon superiors.” it said, whilst shuffling towards the Judge’s stand and moving its arms around expressively. The Glukkons in the room nodded and whispered to each other in a disapproving manner. “therefore, seeing as I am the only one with the brains and expertise in the vicinity to ‘grab’ in such shooooort notice, I have had to assume the role as ‘Judge’, and accept all the responsibilities, vices, virtues and so on and so forth, etcetera…that comes with the job. Unfortunately.”

By now the Vykker had reached the stand and the end of its whining rant, and climbed the steps up the back of it, then seating itself. It looked around the room, Nox watching it as closely as his drowsiness would allow, and it set eyes upon him.

“Can someone fetch a cloth, or something, for this slig here, please.” it squeaked impatiently, its voice echoing around the room. It then immediately set its eyes down onto some paperwork sitting in front of it, and began shuffling and writing notes.

If Nox hadn’t of been so semi-conscious, he would have jumped when he heard a slig’s voice so close behind him, unsuspectingly, but instead he issued a low grunt.

“yes, your honour.” the slig said from behind Nox, and Nox saw to his left side a slig’s arm point at one of the 2 sligs at the metal door, waving one of them away frustratingly.

One of the sligs guarding the door gave a salute and exited, leaving the door itself to slam shut on its own accord after him.

A few members of the Jury began talking amongst themselves in a hushed tone, some pointing at the Vykker, others pointing at Nox. It seemed the Glukkons didn’t approve of this Vykker assuming the place of Judge, and obviously preferred the Chronicler before it. Now, Nox could hardly think straight as it was, but one thing most definitely did not make sense. The fact that a Vykker was doing a Chronicler’s job.

SLAM

In burst the slig excitedly, holding a grey cloth above his head, just about managing to refrain from shouting ‘I GOT IT!’ when he realised where he was, a courtroom.

“SHHHHH!” the slig behind Nox spat loudly, waving him to come over.

SLAM

The slig who had just retrieved the cloth flinched when the door slammed back shut, making his attempt at being quiet, fail miserably.

Nox heard a weary sigh from the slig behind him, and saw the slig with the cloth begin to make his way towards Nox’s stand, walking embarrassedly past his friend still standing guard by the door, who just stared at the noisy sligs face in dumb-struck disbelief.

“Maybe,” the high-pitched voice of the Vykker started again, raising its over-sized head from its paperwork to survey the noisy scene, whilst putting 2 of its hands onto the sides of its head in a ‘fed up’ manner, “if I just pop down to the barracks firing range to finish this paperwork, I’ll be greeted with less noise and more personal safety than I am receiving in this courtroom at this given time damn it!!”.

The typewriter slig tapped away, and a murmur of soft laughter rippled through the Jury and ‘witness’ seats, not contributed to by the 2 Glukkons, who sat solemnly.

The Vykker turned back to its paperwork, whilst Nox suddenly felt a bad stinging sensation on the top of his head, soon realising that the slig behind him had just placed the cloth onto it. Nox didn’t even react to the pain; his arms felt heavy, and the top of his head was becoming numb, fast.

Due to the pressure he could sense on top of his head before he totally lost the feeling there, he assumed the slig behind him was holding the rag on his head for him.

Maybe this world ‘ain’t so bad after all.

Don’t go soft on me now!

Oh, so you want my help now? Eh?

Just…when I need you, okay?!?

Oh, I dunno’, cus by the way you’re actin’, I won’t see much action for a looooong time! Heh heh heh! Sounds like a bad deal to me.

Oh just…for once do what I want to do! You keep getting me in the shit, and I have to keep getting us back out of it! Look, we’re in a courtroom, and I’ll be happy just to stay conscious for the sentencing!!

Remember, suuuurviiiiive!!

You’re more sadistic now, than you were back in the ‘D&M’ war.

Oh, I don’t know about that. Remember when I forced you to shoot that poor, helpless, mudokon child? In that old, derelict factory we were clearing out? Oh, let me help yeh, ‘The Re-Take of Outpost 21’, I think it was officially named. Oh yeah…that…was soooo goooooood!!

You were putting me on edge! That place was crawlin’ with Maylon sligs!! I just turned a corner and there it was! I had no time to think, it could have been a slig, and I just pulled the damn trigger!! FUCK!!

Yeah, just keep telling yerself that, sonny. Heh heh.

A skinny, scruffy slig hurriedly entered the courtroom, taking the 2 sligs guarding the door by surprised, the quiet one having to restrain himself from nearly grabbing the ‘intruder’s’ shoulder. The slig was carrying a brown, worn briefcase, and looked flustered. He weaved his way through the ‘witness’ seats, towards a small, wooden desk in front of them.

Slamming his briefcase down onto the desk with a sigh, and scraping the wooden chair tucked under it out so he could sit down, he sat. Then proceeding to open his case with a couple of ‘clicks’ and sort through, yet more, paperwork.

One of the Glukkons from the Jury stand, leant forward in his seat and yelled,

“Finished?!?”

The slig looked at him, and then uneasily resumed his sorting.

“Order”, the Vykker Judge mumbled, not even looking up from his work.

The slig sitting at the desk pulled a couple of sheets of paper from the mess inside his case, and then slammed it shut, settling slightly.

There was silence for a few seconds, the occasional cough from a mudokon or slig filling the air, briefly.

“Err, I think we’re ready now, your Honour”, a slig from one of the ‘witness’ seats said, bravely. The echo of it not helping.

“We’re ready…when I’m…err…ready…wait a moment…” the Vykker Judge said in reply, engrossed in its paperwork for the time being.

As Nox looked at the scruffy slig that had just entered, he noticed something strange. His vision…it was…swaying. It was beginning to get blurred, he squinted to try and see better…no good, his vision was now blurred.

Oh fer Odd’s sake! I don’t know much about medicine and doctors an’ all that shite, but I’d say you’ve got a bit of the ol’ concussion! Jeeze, last time yeh had that, it was cus that hard bastard Drill Sergeant slig hit yeh ‘round the head with the butt of his revolver! Remember? Just after you called him an ignorant twat when he tried to order that platoon to charge over a mine field? Good times, eh Nox’y? Good times.

“Well, I think we’re all sorted now,” the shriek of the Vykker cut off Nox’s thoughts. “Court, proceed”. The Vykker Judge then slammed down the wooden hammer lazily.

The scruffy slig immediately stood, holding a piece of paper in front of him, and the typewriter slig hastily resumed clicking.

“Sligs, Gluk’s…and Mud’s, we are summoned to this, here courtroom, for this, here court-martial, to sentence this violent slig”. He paused to gaze upon Nox mercilessly, and then began again, this time wandering around the courtroom floor idly, staring members of the Jury and ‘witnesses’ into submission while doing so.

“His innocence is not even a question here. We already have 6 witnesses that saw him, and I’ll quote, “suddenly grab another slig by the neck, and try to strangle him. He was only a young one, and didn’t deserve that” end quote. Why do that…err, Nox? What compelled you to try and literally squeeze the life out of another slig, and a youngster at that?” whilst he spoke, he used over-the-top demonstrations with his hands, currently still clenching his fist on his outstretched arm to demonstrate strangulation.

“You served in the ‘D&M’ war, am I correct?” he questioned.

The slig looked like a green blur to Nox at the moment, and he struggled to understand the question, now starting to feel physically sick.

Don’t fuck up now, come on…

“Err…” Nox slurred, not daring to speak too loud in case he spewed up. “Yeah.” he said numbly.

“‘Yeah’,” the slig repeated, then turning towards the Jury stand, “‘yeah’, may I remind you that you are in a court of law, enforced by the high standards of the Magog Cartel. Therefore it is a ‘yes’ that I seek, not ‘yeah’, understand?”

Cheeky bastard.

Nox sat silently.

“Huh, just what I would expect from some warmongering slog-”

One of the sligs sitting on the front row of the ‘witness’ seats suddenly raised his hand and spoke sharply,

“I object your Honour, I believe that’s Slander.”

“Correct,” replied the Vykker Judge, “continue slig, but with less malicious content.”

The slig from the ‘witness’ seats lowered his hand, and the contradictory slig commenced once more, and not without a sly look at the slig that had objected.

“Sorry, you’re Honour. Nox, is it true, that you like the occasional drink at one of Slig Barracks pubs, every so often?”

Nox felt like total and utter shit, and looked so too, but he certainly sensed danger when the ‘Law slig’ bought up the topic of ‘drink’, regardless of his semi-conscious state. Nox raised his bloodied head slightly, so he could gain a better view of his opponent; his head currently bowed slightly.

“Wha’?” Nox blurted.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. I’ve been reading your records closely, seems you have quite a colourful history of drinking alcoholic substances, something I personally find weak and degrading.” the ‘Law slig’ wandered around the room whilst he spoke, staying close to the Jury stand so that his negative impressions would not be in vain.

“your favourite drinking tavern would appear to be…”, the ‘Law slig’ seemed to break his effortless prosecuting so as to briskly walk over to his briefcase, open it, and bend over to read the top sheet of paper inside it.

There was a seemingly embarrassing silence, in which the typewriter slig took quite readily, catching up with all that had been said and done within the courtroom walls, and finishing with another exchange of paper.

THIS CHAPTER IS NOT YET FINISHED!!!
_______________________

i'm a bit busy at the moment (bloody cows) so i'm having difficulty finishing this chapter, thus half done.

also, it would be nice if the people who are reading this (if any) could reply, it's just a bit disheartening when i spend the little of my free time i have to write chapters for this story, trying my best not to make it too predictable and not childish, and more often than so discovering no replies anyway. i greatly appreciate the replies i have received, but i'm not sure whether i have any permanent readers, i know i read other peopls fan fic's, and regularly check for updates.

i'm just wondering whether to jack it in, i'm very tired as it is, but i would love to continue if someone, anyone is reading it. i was originally hoping to write about 25-30 chapters to this story before finishing it, and have most of it planned out, but that hope seems less likely by the day (especially the other 2 Parts...).

please reply!!!

[abe is now!]

You could write in the title Chapter 4 part. And then part 2. Anyway this is awesome. Well done !!!

[MA]

thankyou very much AIN, and i will post the second part to the chapter soon (hopefully!)

atleast i know i have 1 permanent reader

[scrab queen]

Whoop! An update! I was wondering whether or not it was scrapped. That was a nice clliffy. It was unexpectedly placed in the middle of an unimportant statement, but it left a feeling of anticipation, and it was somehow hilarious the way it ended. Great job. I can't wait for Part 2!

[MA]

REMAINDER OF CHAPTER 4:

“your favourite drinking tavern would appear to be…”, the ‘Law slig’ seemed to break his effortless prosecuting so as to briskly walk over to his briefcase, open it, and bend over to read the top sheet of paper inside it.

There was a seemingly embarrassing silence, in which the typewriter slig took quite readily, catching up with all that had been said and done within the courtroom walls, and finishing with another exchange of paper.

“Ah! ‘The Rotten Barrel’, that’s correct is it not?” the ‘Law slig’ spoke, turning to face Nox whilst closing the lid on his briefcase.

Drowsily, Nox replied with a “yes, sir”.

The ‘Law slig’ turned his back to Nox, and stood silently for a moment, his hands behind his back. It was as if he was enjoying the calm before the storm, the peace before the kill.

“Oh, so you’d know all about the brawl there last year, which ended with 2 sligs losing their lives?” the ‘Law slig’ said rather sharply.

Nox began to panic, and spoke with unnecessary urgency;

“No! I wasn’t a part in that! I…I saw it, but I wasn’t part of it! You see, what happened was-”

“Thank you Nox!” the ‘Law slig’ butted in loudly, “you answered my question that you were there, at ‘The Rotten Barrel’ pub the night of the brawl when 2 sligs died.”

Just shut the fuck up, Nox!

Nox forgot about the sickness he was feeling, and had gotten used to the drowsiness. His sight was slowly justifying itself again, but he now knew he was most definitely up ‘shit street’.

“Tell me Nox, what exactly happened in the events leading up to these two, murders?”

“I object your Honour, this is misleading the defendant and totally irrelevant!” the same slig that had objected before had stood once again, clearly frustrated.

The ‘Law slig’ spun around to face the objective slig, and marched up to him on the first row of Witness seats, appearing to clench his face tentacles briefly, a sign of suppressed anger. Then he exhaled, calming himself down. The objecting slig stood his ground, and showed no fear of the stressed ‘Law slig’.

“Valid point.” The Vykker Judge said in a shrill tone, yet attempting to diffuse the situation. “Do you feel fit to continue, slig?” the Vykker Judge addressed the ‘Law slig’.

“Yes, you’re Honour. Please excuse me.”

“In that case, is this relevant at all, slig!” the Vykker Judge seemed to deliver this in a shrewd, spiteful manner, which made the ‘Law slig’ cast a surprised look in the Judges direction.

“Err, yes…it’s relevant to the case” the somewhat bewildered ‘Law slig’ replied.

Clearing his throat, he continued;

“Well, yes. Right, so you were in ‘The Rotten Barrel’ pub the night of this brawl. Could you please tell me – with no interruptions” he turned slightly towards the, now sitting, objective slig, “what exactly happened in the events leading up to the murders, Nox?”

No. Fuck you, scumbag.

“Yes.” Nox replied. “Well, I’d been doin’ the night shift twice in a row, which your not meant to do, but it was a favour for some mate of mine. Anyway, I walk into the pub, and get myself a pint, that’s when I see this group of about 4 or 5 sligs, standing further up the bar. All drinkin’, all laughing an’ joking, you know. So I didn’t think anything else of it, and I just try and find a table to sit down at. Now this pub’s pretty cramped, and it’s already overflowing with sligs by 10 o’clock, but I find a little, wooden table by the door anyway.

“After about 10 minutes, I’m halfway through my pint, when one of the sligs I saw earlier comes over and asks for the table. Of course I say no, so he says ‘there’s 4 of us, and one of you, who the hell do you thinks gonna’ win with them odds?! Hmm?’ Well, it goes without saying I was very annoyed with this little…what ever you wanna’ call him, so I say a few words that he found offensive, and he goes to grab me, but I move in my seat and he knocks over my pint, which smashes on the floor.

Don’t you dare say anything else, Nox! Don’t you fucking dare!! Just leave it at that, make up some slog shit, anything!

Nox continued. “So I…lost control slightly. I…err……I admit I did have a fight with him. That’s why the brawl started.” Nox spoke cautiously.

The ‘Law slig’ was staring intently at Nox. His eyes boring deep into Nox’s brain…into his black soul.

“So, you had a fight with this slig, because he knocked your pint over?!” he questioned, with a sarcastic underlying tone.

“Yes.”

“You did not proceed to batter him until dead?”

“What the…? No!”

“So why in the name of all creatures great and small did the AUTOPSY suggest that he died from repeated percussions to the face and head?! Huh?!!” The ‘Law slig’ shouted, not moving his gaze from Nox’s defeated form. The ‘Law slig’ then unexpectedly moved his gaze to the floor, and muttered, “I think so anyway…”, then walking back to his suitcase to investigate some papers.

“No! I…I may have accidentally-” Nox was cut short when the Witness seats and Jury stand all seemed to give a groan of disapproval.

“Ah! Yes, it does say that in the Autopsy.” The ‘Law slig’ spoke whilst holding a piece of paper before him, as if he was unaware of the confession Nox had just made.

“Order…order people!” The Vykker Judge said sharply, giving a few lazy ‘bangs’ of the hammer. The groaning and muttering from the Jury stand and Witness seats died down.

The ‘Law slig’ then placed the paper gently onto the table his briefcase was upon, and turned around, slowly walking around the courtroom floor, his head down and arms folded.

“How many pints would you say you’d had, Nox? Before this slig knocked over your drink?” Queried the ‘Law slig’.

“Oh, well that was my first one.” Nox responded, but the ‘Law slig’ seemed unsatisfied with this answer, so Nox was more specific, “The pint he knocked over was my first, there was still half left.”

“Would you say you can handle your drink?”

“Yeah…yeah I would.”

“Ok. So this means that…when you beat the slig to death, you were actually fully aware of your actions, not under the influence a considerable amount, seeing as you’ve just stated that you can ‘handle your drink’. You knew what you were doing, and you must have wanted to do it!” The ‘Law slig’ began shouting again.

Oh…no…

Nox felt cold sweat flush over him, starting to feel the pressure.

“Is this going anywhere?” The Vykker Judge asked tiresomely. He was slumped in his chair, tapping the side of his head with the hammer, idly.

“I assure you it is!” The Law slig snapped back at him, his back currently towards the Judge.

The Vykker slowly raised himself to standing position, “Just you remember who the hell you’re talking to! Or I’ll charge you with contempt and have you in the cells for the next month! Do you understand!” The Vykker Judge yelled shrilly, now leaning forwards over the top of the Judge’s stand, hands hooked over the sides.

“Yes.” The ‘Law slig’ replied quietly, his back still to the Judge, who then sat back down with a pompous ‘humph’.

The ‘Law slig’ continued, very annoyed by this point, and slammed his fist down onto the table his briefcase was upon before asking the next question, “Did you kill the other slig as well, Nox? Huh? Huh?! Did you murder him in cold blood? Like the sicko you are! Did you?! Did you!!” The ‘Law slig’ goaded.

The Vykker Judge intervened, “Let’s keep the hostility low, shall we.”

“Too right your Honour, that’s what I was gonna’ say.” The objective slig spoke up.

“Yeah! You would wouldn’t ya’!” The ‘Law slig’ yelled back at the member of the Witness seats, spinning to face him with a glare, but plenty of distance.

BANG
“Can we have order, please! I’ve got another 4 cases to settle today!” the Vykker Judge cut in sharply, with a slam of the hammer.

“I’m going to be honest,” Nox started, feeling that same urge he always felt at times as tense as this, the need to cleanse his soul. The ‘Law slig’ leant against his table, looking fed up.

What are you doing Nox? Just bloody leave it.

I thought you wanted to get sent down? What’s up, lost your bottle?

“I might…you see, it was a brawl. Everyone was going for everyone else, I thought I had just killed a slig, so I was trying to get out, but when people are attacking you, you’ve got no choice but to fight back unless you wanna’ end up dead. What I’m trying to say is…I might have killed the other slig.” Nox blurted this last part out, as if trying to rid the ‘black’ from his mind, a weight from his shoulders. But to no avail.

There was a gasp heard from the Witnesses and Jury stand, and the ‘Law slig’ seemed to bask in his glory.

“So you claim to be innocent, do you? You said before that you saw what happened, not did what happened, didn’t you? Now why did you lie Nox? And why, more shockingly, did you kill two sligs in just one night! Now that can’t be coincidence, or accidental. In fact, that can’t be innocence, now can it?”

The ‘Law slig’ stood just before Nox’s stand, looking up at him. He spoke softly, but Nox wasn’t that naïve to fall into the trap of ‘giving yourself up’, in other words: letting them dump whatever the hell they like onto Nox, then sending him down for it.

If we’re gonna’ end up behind bars, lets just get sentenced for what we’ve actually done, not some other unsolved shite they wanna’ get rid of. But hey, it was good while it lasted! Don’t you think Nox? Keep ‘em hungry, sonny! Give ‘em nout!

Nox replied in a dry, monotonous tone. “I’m very sorry for my actions; it was a dark and drunken part of my life-”

“Sick bastard!!” A slig’s voice yelled from somewhere in the Witness seats, then soon enough, the entirety of the Witness seat members were shouting and pointing at Nox, the Jury stand retaining their stony silence. All this anger directed at him. Nox was understandably taken aback from this sudden burst of hatred.

“Order! Order!!” The Vykker Judge shrieked whilst banging the wooden hammer almost manically. By this point the Law slig was idly walking around the Courtroom with his arms stretched out, looking up at the white, plastered ceiling and repeating loudly to himself “…the autopsy said he had broken face tentacles, it did, the autopsy said he had broken face tentacles…” chuckling every so often.

Look at him, just lappin’ up that praise, sonny, just lappin’ it up…

“I’ve had enough of this…lets round it up, slig.” The Vykker Judge said with a defeatist attitude, after much ‘hammering’.

The whole courtroom quietened down, and the ‘Law slig’ walked up to the Jury stand, stopping just in front of it, to gave his final statement for them.

“This whole court martial seems to have been irrelevant to the crime this slig was arrested for. But it most definitely has not been so. We, today, have solved the un-concluded murders of last year in the pub brawl of ‘The Rotten Barrel’. Thus, in doing so, have found enough evidence that this slig is a murderer. Obviously this means that the crime the slig was arrested for must be true, for common sense’s sake.” He turned to face the Vykker Judge, “I have no further questions, your Honour.” And with that, sat back behind his desk, sorting through paperwork from inside his briefcase, yet again.

“Good! Now can we move this along!” The Vykker Judge said in frustration, “Jury, do you need time to discuss the verdict?” he added sharply.

“Err, your Honour?”

“What?!” The Vykker Judge snapped, turning towards the objective slig with undeniable irritancy.

“Rules of all court martial’s state that the Defendant must have his own ‘last words’ of the case, before the verdict and sentence is passed, your Honour.” The slig bowed his head slightly, showing he meant no disrespect and that he didn’t wish to spend a night in the cells.

“Arrgh…very well. Slig!” The Vykker Judge shouted towards Nox, “Last words. Now.”

Nox hesitated.

They’ve put you on the spot ‘ere, Nox’y. Now you gotta’ decide. Prison or Barracks? Heh heh, either way sounds good to me!

Make up your mind.

“I…did not know what I had done. If I had definitely known, believe me, I would have turned myself in. When I pinned down the young slig in the Café, I seemed to have a back flash of my war days. As some members of the Jury will know, the ‘D&M’ war was a brutal war, and I myself endured it for the full 3 years. I fear…I…fear…that, I may be going insane.” The silence of the courtroom seemed worse than the shouting. It was cleansing.

Nox continued, feeling everyone’s eyes upon him. “I’ve also had a voice, talking to me in my head, ever since the Charge of Bunker D-14. It tells me violent things, and causes flashbacks. They have been getting more frequent, recently.” The silence remained. “That is all I have to say.”

They can’t do nothin’ about it Nox. Heh heh, you ain’t getting’ rid of me that easily!

“Well,” The Vykker Judge started, smashing the tranquillity of the courtroom, “let me inform the Jury,” He turned to face them, “I have been watching this slig closely, during the case, as any other Judge would. But what he has just stated makes complete sense. I have the advantage to analyse from a medical point of view, and everything from the way that he moves, to the way that he talks and tells things other sligs would be denying left, right and centre, suggests that this slig most definitely has Post Traumatic Stress of the ‘D&M’ war. It has left him severely, mentally scarred, and the stress of the situation when he was enduring the war, seems to have manifested itself into slight Schizophrenia, explaining the ‘voice’. This Schizophrenia has grown considerably, and has most likely been interrupting his thoughts during this trial, meaning you cannot use his indecisiveness and contradictable theme as a negative point.”

How did he know that?!

The ‘Law slig’ had one hand on his head, just above his eye lens, whilst looking down at his desk. He was shaking it slightly, in a manner that suggested ‘I don’t believe this’.

“Now, do you wish to discuss the verdict in private?” Asked the Vykker Judge to the Jury stand.

One of the Junior Glukkon’s barked, “No, we’ve made our minds up. We made our minds up half way through the damned case!”

The Vykker Judge tolerated the Glukkons rudeness, knowing he’d get nowhere arguing with him. “And?” He replied just as nastily.

“Guilty!” The Glukkon Junior grunted, with a degrading chortle afterwards.

Sadistic bastards!

Cheers erupted from the Witness seats, soon followed by the now strained voice of the Vykker Judge, struggling for ‘order’ again.

“ORDER! ORDER PEOPLE! THIS IS A COURT OF MAGOG LAW!! ODD DAMN IT!!” The Vykker shrieked at the top of its lungs.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG went the hammer crazily.

People settled once again, and the Vykker Judge passed sentence. The typewriter slig looking quite relieved by now.

“Nox, you have been found guilty of aggravated assault and attempted murder, in conjunction with an un-concluded murder case, which you have been found guilty of sligslaughter, not murder, due to the fact there is not enough hard evidence. Therefore, I pass sentence unto you for these crimes. I will take into consideration your mental state and health, along with most probable Schizophrenia and Post Traumatic Stress caused by the ‘D&M’ war, this means your sentence is reduced. Due to the nature of sligs, and their lifespan being so short in comparison with others, average of 20 years, you will receive a fair sentence time. Taking all of this information into consideration, I feel the need to sentence you to serve time in ‘Sronti’s Prison’, a very notorious prison, where you will either learn to abide rules or pay the consequences. Your sentence time there will be…3 months.”

There was uproar.

Fuck me! We’ve gotten off the hook ‘ere, ey Nox!

The Witness members began shouting at Nox and the Vykker Judge, again. Even a few members of the Jury stand were crying out to the Judge. And before they got too rowdy, the Vykker finished the job.

“Court dismissed.” And that was it. The hammer came down, and Nox was condemned.

BANG

The Judge, the ‘Law slig’, and the Jury stand began to pack their things and make their way out, in their own time. The typewriter slig emitting a sigh of relief as he pulled out the last sheet of paper from his typewriter, adding it to a hefty pile by the side of him. But the Witness seat members remained, still angry at Nox, but for no particular reason. They had been metaphorically led like Meep, and so acted like such.

Nox was immediately escorted back through the courtroom from where he came, by the slig that was standing behind him, soon accompanied by 2 more sligs. As soon as he stood, he felt the blood rush to his head, and the dull pain came thumping back. With a groan, he proceeded to be marched back towards his cell, past the rabble of Witness seat members. Their cries of hate towards Nox felt suffocating, but he had to walk close to the Witness seats in order to leave the courtroom. They were no longer in their seats anyway, most standing, trying to get close to Nox, their intentions varied.

Nox was only a few feet from the door, a slig guard on each side of him, and one behind, when one slig member of the Witness seats grabbed Nox’s right arm. Nox was pulled sideways towards the member, bashing the slig guard out the way in the process.

“Your dead, fucker!” the slig muttered to him, as if making sure the guards didn’t hear him.

Nox pushed the slig away angrily with his left hand, and soon proved to be stronger when the slig tripped over his own leg and fell on his back, making the shove seem more violent than it really was. But Nox was pulled forward into the crowd when the slig that fell did not let go of his arm, and ended up unintentionally head butting a mudokon member, to which another slig member grabbed Nox painfully by the skin of his neck, pulling on it.

“Get off me!” Nox growled, amongst the other shouts and cries.

The guards then intervened, one attempting to pull Nox out of the mass of violent Witness members by his left arm, and another beating at random Witness members with a heavy truncheon, to keep them at bay.

You kill those bastards, Nox. I mean it! You kill ‘em!

Nox managed to work out which slig in the crowd still had hold of his neck, after a few seconds, and managed to release his right arm from the other slig, who was still on the floor getting trampled. Nox delivered a powerful right punch into the face tentacles of the other slig, with a crack, making him relax the grip on his neck slightly. Nox was then totally pulled out of the crowd by one of the guards, but not before another angry mudokon member spat in Nox’s face, partially covering his eye lens. For once, Nox was pleased to see one of the slig guards wallop the mudokon around the head with his truncheon, the mudokon falling to the ground, unconscious.

The slig guard that had stood behind Nox during the trial, attempted to gain control of the situation again, and shouted, “Everybody stay the fuck back! Otherwise we’ll start loadin’ up the rifles!”

The Witness members calmed right down almost immediately, and Nox wiped the mudokon saliva from his eye lens, disgusted. Then, one mudokon broke the silence by shouting “Scumbag!” The same slig guard pulled a large and heavy looking pistol from a holster located somewhere on the back of his mechanical legs, and aimed it at the head of the closest mudokon he saw, knowing it wasn’t the one that made the comment, but wanting to make an example.

He pulled back the loading mechanism, and said “I could end your shitty little life in a split second, mud. And believe me, I don’t hesitate.” The mudokon said nothing, just stood stiff and still, clearly afraid. At this point, Nox noticed that the Judge, ‘Law slig’ and Jury stand had all already left. There was no more official court martial staff there.

The slig lowered the loaded pistol and yelled to everyone else, “Anyone else so much as blinks the wrong way, and you will have me…to answer to. Understand?” There was silence. “Good. Take ‘im down, lads.” The other slig guards proceeded to march Nox through the metal door, down the corridor he walked through earlier, and back into his cell, which had been cleaned. Nox walked in, and the guards walked out, with a slam of the door. Then the light went out, leaving Nox in darkness.

“I ‘spose that means it’s ‘bed time’ then.” He said sarcastically to himself.

It’s been a good day, Nox. Good day…

Nox didn’t dare take his mechanical legs off, in case he was awoken by more violent guards. He climbed onto the wooden board on the side wall, about a foot from the floor, and lay down. One knee up for comfort. He felt something hard on his head, and had a feel around for what it was in the darkness. It was the rag the slig had put on his wound, and it had dried from the blood and stuck to his head, like some leathery scab.

Nox pulled it off and flung it across the dark room, then relaxing. Slowly, he fell into a deep sleep.

-------------

at sodding last! (yet again!)

thanks for the comments you 2, it feels good to know your reading my work. now i know i have 2 dedicated readers!

and dont worry, as long as i know people are reading this, it will never be scrapped.
i'm going to start getting my arse into gear as well, that means making free time for myself so i can update this story more often (its a hobby for me, now). it was quite scary seeing it so far down the list it was on page 2!

anywho, please tell me what you thought of this. i cant wait to start updating this more often. i've got a lot planned for poor Nox, and if you think he spends the rest of the story in prison, think again...

see you soon!

[scrab queen]

Gah! Sorry for not writing in a while. I was cut off.

But that was a really great chapter. It was really intense, and I can't wait for the next chapter!

I can totally imagine there being some kind of escape scene in the future. It's either going to be a blood fest or dealing with some elaborate plan. Or maybe it'll be something completely different?

Just keep writing!

[Tristan]

WOW O_O. That was mighty huge...

[Moosh da Outlaw]

Yo. I had some spare time so I decided to do a little catching up.
This story is addictive, man! If you don't continue it soon i'll seriously sue you.
C: C: C:

[Five]

I'm loving it so far! It's so hard to find an Oddworld fanfiction nowadays, and a one with slig as a main character at that. You have a great writing style as well. I hope you update as soon as possible, I'm dying to know what happens next

[scipionyx]

I agree with Five and Moosh da Outlaw, your story is really cool, but why don't you continue it? We want to read more!

[Oddey]

I agree with Five and Moosh da Outlaw, your story is really cool, but why don't you continue it? We want to read more!

If yout took a moment to observe Molluck's assistant's recent activity you'd find that he hasn't posted in a very long time. It's clear he's either left, forgotten or doesn't have internet anymore. And this thread hasn't been posted on in a long time so it's safe to assume he won't be continueing it either. There is however a thread about why he had to move and it may be because he still hasn't set up his internet connection.

All in all you'll have to wait. I want him to come back as much as you.

[MA]

good to see people are still interested in my story, even though your all in mortal danger of catching gangreen this page is so old, and dead, and rotting...

i'll be continuing it soon.

[GlacierDragon]

I read this a little while ago and I must say it's really good, I hope to see more soon.

[AlexFili]

I really enjoyed this series. Can't wait to see what happens next.
Brilliant atmosphere, and feels a lot more natural then a lot of Fanfics I read.
Good work so far!

[MA]

CHAPTER 5

NIGHT OF ‘THE ROTTEN BARREL’ MURDERS

Once again, Nox dreamt. It would seem old memories had been disturbed, rattled out of their little boxes in the back of Nox’s mind. Many a slig had bad memories of course, but not all sligs had suffered what Nox had been forced to endure. Not all sligs had voices in their heads, and constant guilt racking their conscious. Not all sligs constantly lived in the past, against their own will.

It was cold, dark and raining. Nox was standing on a metal platform, getting wet, even though he was already as wet as he could possibly be. He was in Slig Barracks, standing guard at the post he had been assigned to for the week, very much disheartened. It was nearly the end of his day shift, and he knew exactly where he was going afterwards: The Rotten Barrel pub, one of only a few in Slig Barracks.

Years and years ago, before Nox was even born, and General Dripik was a mere junior with distant dreams, the morale of sligs within Slig Barracks, as a whole, was in desperate need of attention. Something needed to be done, and hastily at that. Sligs were already beginning to deny direct commands and duties, and mass mutiny seemed inevitable.

The glukkons of Slig Barracks called together an emergency meeting, and amongst other idea’s of how to raise slig morale just enough for them to do their jobs whilst saving as much moolah as possible, drinking taverns was thrown in (amongst cigarette vending machines and better food). It was evaluated, and found to be a good suggestion. This way sligs would look forward to boozing after their shifts, meaning that the amount of sligs that went AWOL every month decreased dramatically.

A couple of unimportant junior glukkons made a public announcement in the barracks, and mudokons were inspired to build them via loaded guns. They would be given the materials (wood, nails, tools, etc), and once a certain amount of taverns had been built within Slig Barracks, all building would need to cease, at the glukkons say so. That number of taverns was seven. It had been discussed that this number of drinking taverns would raise morale amongst the sligs sufficiently, whilst costing as little as possible.

The sligs wouldn’t have to buy the booze with their own moolah; it was free, but sligs can only drink so much. The budget for it was mouth-wateringly large, the gluk’s could certainly afford it, and it was quickly accumulated again through trade anyway.

Zooming back through time to the current date, 6 pubs still stand in random parts of a Slig Barracks today (one had burned down in an accidental fire, nearly wiping the barracks off the map; it had almost spread to the cramped tents which smothered the barracks ground).

Nox still stood in the pouring rain, guarding whatever shit-hole he’d been told to guard. He looked at his gun, it was shiny in the wet, the deepest of black. It looked new, but was far from it. This same rifle had been with Nox during the ‘D&M’ war. This very same rifle had seen all Nox had seen, and yet remained still, calm, quiet…until the trigger was pulled. Nox marveled for a second at the prospect that this gun had kept so normal after all it had been through, but then realized it was a gun, not a person.

Twat.

Nox ignored himself and looked at his watch, 10:03 pm.

“Fuck!” Nox exclaimed, realizing he was eating into his drinking time; his shift was over.

Nox took swift glances to his left and right sides on the metal walkway. No sign of his fellow slig that was supposed to meet him and take over for the night shift.

“Ah sod it” Nox whinged, and set off to his left for The Rotten Barrel pub. It was time to drown some sorrows. Nox had plenty.

He walked along the walkway, passing a couple of sligs smoking in the rain, their heads bowed, trying desperately to keep their fags alight. Nox didn’t smoke, never had, but he certainly drank. He set off into a run once the rain began to pelt down harder onto his sorry self. The wet, metal walkway was slippery.

Bingo.

He caught sight of the drinking tavern. It was an old, wooden shack. Older than Nox, nearly older than General Dripik – but who cared?! Time was booze, and Nox wanted to forget for a couple of hours. He arrived at the door of the pub with an unintended skid, and let himself in. It was noisy inside; the low drone of slig chatter, a battered duke box in a corner somewhere out of sight steadily played a random tune, and a wispy layer of cigarette smoke hung over the heads of the inhabitants of the room like a lightweight fog.

Sligs bustled between the bar and the wooden tables of seated sligs, carrying clutches of pint glasses filled to the brim, dribbling beer on the floor as they did so. Nox pushed himself to the bar, a mudokon stood behind it wiping the inside of a pint glass with an alarmingly dirty, grey cloth.

“What can I give ya’ sir?” He questioned quite readily, taking Nox aback slightly.

‘Clakker’s courage’, that’s what that is! Bastard must be sneaking booze behind everyones back!

“Err…yeah, just a pint o’ that special low grade shit they call beer.” Nox said, with a little annoyance towards the voice that interrupted his thoughts, yet again.

“Right-o” And the mudokon began the process of filling a pint glass with ‘low grade shite’. Nox took a moment to place his old rifle caringly onto the bar.

He’s gonna’ spit in your drink…hey, you listening to me? I said are you fuckin’ listening to ME!

“Yeah!” A few sligs looked strangely at his bedraggled form leaning on the bar, but soom started nattering again.

Heh, don’t make a fool outta’ yerself now Nox’y. Oh yeah, and by the way, he’s spat in your drink. Ha ha ha, heh heh.

Nox spun his head towards the mudokon, who slid Nox’s pint towards him.

“There you go mate.” He spoke.

Nox looked at the mudokons expression in a penalizing manner, making him shift his feet uneasily. Nox couldn’t help it, but he could swear that mud was smirking, as if he had spat in his drink.

“What you done?” Nox asked.

A surprised expression. “What?”

“Have you just spat in my drink?!”

A few sligs looked, but it was noisy enough for Nox to keep it partially private.

“…No…no mate, its…its there look! I haven’t done anything. Please, I don’t want trouble.” He held his hands up to his chest, signifying he didn’t want a fight, a false smile on his lips.

“Ah fuck it, sorry mate. I’m not well.” Nox replied in a casual manner, hiding his guilt quite well, through experience. The mudokon said nothing, and crept off to serve another tipsy slig.

Nox peered at the glass. There was black print on the side of it, near the brim, it read: Property of Slig Barracks. Not caring the slightest bit, he took a swig of the stuff, wetting his mouth, and fuelling his addiction. That was when someone pushed into his right hand side, almost spilling Nox’s drink.

“Oh, sorry mate!” The drunk slig sniggered, the stink of beer on his breath was evident.

He put his arm around Nox and said close to his face, “Your quiet ‘aint ya’?”, a few of his friends sitting at a nearby table laughed at the display.

He’s taking you for a fuckin’ ride sonny! Heh heh, he’s showing everyone what a wuss you really are!

Nox convulsed sharply, shaking the drunken sligs arm off of him.

“Don’t you touch me” He said threateningly whilst turning to face his foe.

“Oh right, yeah,” The slig replied, squaring up to Nox, “You think your made of somethin’ strong don’t ya’? I’ve seen your tattoo, and I ‘aint afraid of ya’.” By this point, the drunken slig was face to face with Nox.

HA HA HA…HA HA, heh heh, oh this is classic Nox, your bein’ shown up here Nox’y!! Everyone’s lookin’ at yeh!

Nox knew that everyone wasn’t looking at him, but he couldn’t help feeling they were. All those beady eyes, all those thoughts, all thinking the same thing; what an idiot, what a tosser. They weren’t, but they were, at the same time. He felt pressured to do something, to prove something to all these pissed-up sligs. That was when Nox snapped, lost control briefly.

He grabbed his nearly-full pint glass and thrust it rim-first into the face of the opposing slig. There was a painful yelp and a sharp pain in Nox’s hand as the glass cracked and shattered in the face-tentacles of his oppressor, red tinted beer spilling over Nox’s forearms, hands and the floor. It had been a long time, since the war actually, since he’d seen a sligs visor smash. The slig immediately dropped to the floor, blind, as if his robotic legs had given way to his weight, blood dribbling from three gashed face-tentacles hanging limply by threads of skin.

His friends stood at their table, staring at the mess on the floor, speechless.

That’s the ONE my son!! Oh YES! Now we’re talkin’! now, finish off the others my dearest friend, heh heh, that’s right, do as your told!

Nox then regained self control, and the feeling he had to ‘prove something’ had gone just as quickly as it had came. He let the shards of glass fall from his hand in shock, as the downed slig began to wail in pain, rolling slightly whilst trying to delicately touch his slashed up, sensitive face-tentacles. Then people started to look. It was a sorry sight, and the slig’s friends proved this.

“What the…!” One of them uttered, his hands rising to the top of his head in almost cartoonish disbelief.

Nox made a sharp exit. Grabbing his rifle with a wince, he pushed his way through the gathering audience of bladdered sligs, keeping his head low. Finally, the door. He opened it to discover it was still raining outside, and so, like before, he looked at his watch, letting the door slam shut behind him. 10:39 pm. Not quite a couple of hours, but he certainly forgot for a while…indeed.

Nox looked up at the black, night sky, the rain pattered onto his visor refreshingly.

Getting all sentimental on me are we Nox’y? Heh heh.

“Fuck it.” Nox blurted, at first quietly, then louder and louder, “Fuck it. Fuck it! Fuck it!! FUCK IT!!”

Hey, mister ‘fuck it’, they’re gonna’ come outta’ there in a minute lookin’ for yeh. Move. Now.

“I spose your right, again, as fuckin’ USUAL!!”

Get a grip, shit-head!! You wanna’ get sent down?!
…you wanna’ get sent down?…
…you wanna’ get sent down…
…you wanna’ get sent…
…you wanna’ get…
…you wanna’…
…you…
……
…

You wanna’ get sent down?

No.

…yes…

That’s when Nox woke up, in his cell, once more. ‘Why didn’t he tell the truth in court?’ you may be thinking. Well, they say – the Vykkers, that is – that when you begin to breakdown mentally, the memory is the first to go. Old memories can be altered, if not changed totally. So that’s why. Still doesn’t solve the crime though does it? No. but maybe that’s something that will never be known.

-----

well then, thats another chapter posted, and about bloody time aswell! sorry about the titanic wait, im gonna update this every week until its finished now. thanks for reading!

[AlexFili]

Wow, I can't wait to see what happens next Nox is so awesome!