The Despicable

[Gretin]

I thought the speeches were good, actually, though I know what you mean; I have the same problem. Now I'm curious to know what happened to make Krik get in trouble!

[Splat]

Posting to apologise that due to massive heaps of coursework, approaching exams and overly large amounts of life, I'll be missing this weeks chapter. I trid to get it done this weekend but just didn't have time. Hope to get it posted next weekend instead.

Sorry.

[Seargentbig]

Hey, caught up! It's looking good so far, Splat. I like the length of the chapters, not too short nor too long, although that might just be me. The writing itself is excellent, as always, although I'll agree that the first speech seemed short, and it didn't look like it went anywhere. But it's good stuff all round.

[Splat]

Blame an ever-growing pile of schoolwork for the lateness of this chapter. For similar reasons its a little shorter than most of the others, but still, I liked it. Lots of names flying around in here, some of them not all that important, so tell me if you think it's ok or if it's a problem.
I haven't had time to read back over this so there may be some mistakes.

Chapter 8

Vykkers are hermaphrodites. It is a direct consequence of this that many vykkers have a sibling of a very similar age (and if you don’t understand that, I’m not explaining. You’ll work it out when you’re older). And, being vykkers, it tended to happen that by the time they reached higher education they had probably reached a point where they bluntly refused to communicate with their sibling.

William Krik was no exception to either of these phenomena. Indeed, before he reached the age of ten he had already had an almighty argument with his ‘brother’, Johnny, and insisted on being sent to a different school. By the time he reached university the only communication that passed between him and his brother were the annual new years and birthday cards (both of which usually arrived late).

Krik came from rich parents and so was able to attend a fairly reputable school. He proved himself to be a particularly talented and healthily morbid individual (in vykker terms). In school he showed a passing interest in psychology which was eventually overtaken by an interest in anatomy. However, his hands proved too brusque for surgery and after having a particularly large slurg explode in his face he decided that perhaps that field wasn’t for him after all. In the end he turned back to his first passion and took up an apprenticeship with a reputable vykker psychologist by the name of Professor Zimbago.

It was while he was working for Zimbago that Krik met his first in-the-flesh mudokon. Obviously he new of them, mostly of natives causing trouble for amiable businessgluks though he had heard a few people were beginning to use them as slaves.

Zimbago kept a few as servants because interns weren’t much help for anything other than surgery but he also carried out various experiments on them, simply because they were the only sentient creatures he could grab that he wouldn’t get arrested for dabbling with.

Krik’s first impression of mudokons was that they were somewhat the antithesis of vykkers: they were very strong physically, yet seemed appallingly stupid. The simple-minded curiosity of the creatures seemed to completely deny intelligence. It wasn’t until he actually saw some of his teacher’s experiments on them that he began to change his mind. The way they coped under torture and stress suggested that there was more to the species than met the eye. Under Zimbago’s tutorship he learnt more about the creatures and even suggested studies they could carry out in the future.

His study of the creatures led him easily to the conclusion that they would make excellent slaves for the industrial world, and the only thing he couldn’t understand was why most of the rest of the world didn’t also think so. His enquiries into the question resulted in a lengthy lecture from Zimbago about over-developed morals, fear of the unknown and peer-pressure.

It was Krik’s determined ambition for knowledge that led to his ‘downfall’ in psychology: when he suggested to Zimbago that they apply to do tests on the slig or glukkon queens, the older vykker decided his young apprentice was liable to get himself (and anyone working with him) killed, or at least injured. There were certain lines that were not to be crossed, and lines such as these were drawn in big, obvious circles around the queens of the industrial species.

Not one for beating about the bush, Zimbago told him that he was a lunatic who was going to get himself in a whole world of trouble now get out of my lab and never come back, and that (as the saying goes), was that.

Annoyed, but not to be outdone, Krik decided that he would get revenge by becoming ten times more famous than Zimbago ever was. He began a search for a psychologist who would be willing to take him under their wing, but Zimbago’s reputation led for the rapid spreading of rumours and it soon became clear that there wasn’t a respectable psychologist on Oddworld willing to accept him as an apprentice.

Eventually Krik met a vykker called Erwin Skinner. Here Krik learnt a little of the almighty nature-nurture debate of psychology: the great question of whether behaviour is caused by a person’s experiences or their biology. Skinner was an avid believer in biologic psychology, swearing that all behaviour was caused by the structure of the brain, hormones and most importantly, genetics.

Skinner taught Krik a little of the biologic side of things before realising he was the Krik that everyone was complaining about and quickly fobbed him off by offering to introduce him to a friend who was a fairly successful geneticist. Krik happily took the approval and Skinner saw him off, safe in the belief that he’d tactfully avoided a potential disaster for his career.

Frank Holes was the geneticist who now found himself face to face with the young and irredeemably enthusiastic Krik. He was quite an elderly vykker, over his 120-year life expectancy, and was not happy about finding this young go-getter running circles around him in his excitement.

Krik himself decided that in genetics he’d finally found his true path in life: it gave him the opportunity to pursue his interest in behaviour while allowing him to return to his older passion of physical experimentation. He was somewhat disappointed, however, in Holes’ obvious complete lack of interest in mudokons. Holes was the owner of a fairly large genetics laboratory which he had spent most of his life building up. Krik, now aged 19, quickly got himself a job in the lab so he could annoy Holes better, and then bothered the vykker about letting him start research into mudokon genes.

After Krik had worked at the lab for 8 years, Holes finally gave in. He allowed Krik a tiny laboratory, an intern and, after a few more months of unrelenting demands from Krik who in his eight years of experience had learnt that cunning was the better part of being an annoyance, allowed him a pair of sligs.

Krik quickly set his sligs to hunting down mudokons for his experiments, as buying them was still too expensive. They quickly got the idea of picking off individuals who wandered away from their homes provided a supply of mudokons that was slow but nevertheless enough to please their boss. Most of the vykkers working at Holes’ lab were, like Holes himself, rather old and comfortable in their current lives and so had absolutely no interest in mudokons. Krik found himself working alone, except of course for the intern, whose name Krik could never remember. Once again in typical vykker style, Krik eventually stopped trying to remember his name and settled with referring to it with a range of less-than-complimentary names such as ‘Mute’, ‘Intern’ and occasionally just ‘Hey, You!’.

Krik’s work was agonisingly slow and tedious, but as previously mentioned he was a particularly intelligent individual, and his eight years working at the lab had taught him much. Three years later he had compiled enough research to publish a book on the subject of mudokon labour, outlining what Krik considered to be the advantages and disadvantages of slavery and concluding that the use of mudokon slaves provided the best future for the industrial world.

The publication of his book provided Krik was a more solid income and Holes grudgingly agreed that maybe the vykker deserved a little more credit that he had previously been given and agreed to hire a few other supporters of mudokon labour to help Krik in his research. The six vykkers, led by Krik, spent the next two years working frantically, adding to Krik’s research and developing new ideas. With less pressure on Krik himself, he found time to dabble in other branches of genetics. This led to the creation of his first real creation: the artificial enzyme the now very old and slightly senile Holes decided to christen ‘DNAse’, much to its creator’s dismay.

Aged 32, Krik presented his discoveries at the annual G.A.S. (General Assembly of Scientists) to an encouragingly positive response. DNAse went down well among the rich crowd, but more significant was the number of vykkers and glukkons crowding round to provide funding into his mock-queen project. He selected seven offers, from five glukkons and two vykkers, and began work.

One of the vykkers was a scientist about twenty years older than Krik, named Doctor Emlech. Emlech was successful and fairly well-known surgeon who shared Krik’s passion in mudokon labour. He insisted on seeing Krik’s research before agreeing to fund him, and Krik showed him a selection of his research that he and his team had agreed on with Holes to show an impressive array of information without giving away anything important to avoid being copied. Krik talked with Emlech himself, and had a good impression that the older vykker was trying to find out much more than he was willing to tell.

Though Emlech would never admit it, he was impressed by the young geneticist, both in his vigour for research and his ability to keep his head under pressure. Emlech and Krik struck up a firm friendship and over the course of the following experimentation Krik referred to him several times for suggestions and assistance.

Work on the mock-queen project went on for seven years. Over that time, Krik borrowed over 14 million moolah from 12 different sources. During that time, Frank Holes died (and so vanishes from this story) and was replaced by a different vykker who was more interested in Krik’s work.

When Krik was 38, industrial patrols discovered the mudokon Queen somewhere out in the wild and a short while later captured her and brought her in. The price of mudokon labour plummeted like never before and Krik became worried that all his work would become useless if mudokons became easier to come by. However, with the decrease in price, slaves became more popular and very soon the Magog Cartel, who had taken control of the mudokon Queen from day one (Krik had never bothered to learn her name back then, and several years later when he did, he wasn’t sure if Sam was the original Queen taken from the wild or that queen’s daughter, born in captivity), were soon struggling to keep up with the demand for labour eggs. Krik’s project looked to be back on track.

A year later it all came crashing down around his ears when he received a message from the Cartel stating simply that they did not want any other source of mudokon eggs which would reduce the price of those birthed by their Queen. Krik was ordered to end his research and destroy everything that he had achieved so far. Nine years of work looked to be wasted, leaving Krik and his team without jobs, without products, and 14 million moolah in debt.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

A cookie for everyone who posts a reply!

[Zozo the Zrilufet]

Cool, I think I've heard of Krik and you can type lots....Do I get a cookie?

[Seargentbig]

That read well, sort of like a history book. Different from anything else you've writen, but still good.

[Gretin]

I agree with SeargentBig, that chapter seemed kinda like a... synopsis... or something like that Which isn't a bad thing, of course

Interesting to know how Krik came to get his popularity, but you are waiting as long as possible to show what brought him down, aren't you?

[Dracula’s Ex]

Oh thats good, Splat! Very good indeed...

[Splat]

Well origibally it was going to be in this section, but since Emlech has come in I've had a bit of a rethink. He'll play a reasonable role in the story. He's not a W@RF character, but he is strongly related to one.
Not sure yet, see where the next chapter goes. This current section is named 'Tormentor's Decline', Tormentor being Krik, so it probably should explain where things go.
If you're really desperate to know, get someone who met Krik to look it up in the RPG!


Cookies for all! But, uh, since I don't know where any of you live, I'll just have to eat 'em all for you...

[Splat]

What's this? I'm actually updating on time for once?!
Check out chapter 7, cus I've edited the first speech (or will be doing so in the near future). Think it's a little better now.
Anyway, on with the show.

Chapter 9

The old saying ‘I’ll get by with a little help from my friends’ would not be applicable for the industrial world in general (for example, sligs and glukkons wouldn’t depend on anybody, vykkers wouldn’t depend on sligs or glukkons), it did occasionally find relevance among vykkers. Vykkers who knew each other well and shared interests would occasionally turn to each other for help.

However, Krik did not expect 14 million moolah to drop out of thin air and land at his feet. He remembered Zimbago’s instructions and had brought his research to an end and destroyed all official records that it had ever existed (except of course, for the bucket-loads of cash he still owed) but he couldn’t shake off his own nature completely and made several copies of his research and hid them where he didn’t expect them to be found. He didn’t tell any of his team about this,

He didn’t want to be around when the various glukkons and vykkers he owed money to found out that they wouldn’t be seeing any of it for a while, but he decided he had to tell his friend, Emlech, in person.

In the end he told him over the fone.

Their conversation was brief; Emlech was mostly silent, having quietly been expecting trouble of this sort since he had heard about the mudokon Queen’s capture. After he put down the fone he locked himself in his office for a few hours while he revaluated his plans.

Emlech did not get where he was today for accepting things as they came. When he wanted something he would get it, and Queen Margaret and the whole of the Vykker’s Council could throw themselves off a bridge if they wanted to stop him. He had a small number of facilities that would not be found to exist in any official records and was well experienced in the arts of breaking the law.

Emlech was one of the cleverest vykkers around, and unlike most, he kept it a secret. He could do his own work better if the Magog Cartel weren’t chasing him round trying to get him to join their ranks. He predicted that the Vykker’s Council would eventually dissolve into the Magog Cartel several years before the Council did. While Krik had spent years worrying that mudokon labour would never become reality, Emlech had sat self in the knowledge that it was only a matter of time before there wasn’t a factory on Oddworld that wouldn’t have at least a handful of slaves. He also predicted that sooner or later the mudokons would fight back.

He had liked Krik, but he had also liked his idea. Free slaves for however long the fake queen lived for, and hopefully that would be a long time (it would have to be for Krik to make any profit). With the expected boom in labour, he had planned to make a lot of money from the younger vykker’s work.

He had laid out his plans carefully. If he bought mudokons to use in his secret facilities, it was possible people would notice that he was purchasing a lot of labour that he didn’t seem to be using anywhere (for of course, no one would know about those labs). If he had had his own source of labour eggs, as well as selling them on, he could also use the slaves in the places he was keeping secrets.

And when he received his message from Krik, he decided immediately that the Cartel was not going to ruin his plans.

He arranged a meeting with his young friend. Krik was initially reluctant to agree, expecting some form of retribution from the vykker whom he owed so much non-existent money, but his peculiar form of morality got the better of him and they arranged the meeting.

A pair of interns greeted Krik silently (which was not surprising) when he got off of the train at one of Emlech’s laboratories. They led him through the building, up two flights of stairs and to the head vykker’s office. They knocked, the door opened and Emlech emerged and greeted Krik warmly, shaking him by the hand. “Krik, my friend! Good to see you; how are you faring?”

Despite the warm welcome, Krik was still suspected trouble, so didn’t reply. Emlech grinned deviously and ushered him into the office. “Good to see you haven’t lost any of your caution. Come in, come in.” Krik sauntered into the office. “Take a seat,” Emlech gestured.

Krik glared suspiciously at the chair.

His friend sighed, “Would it make you happier if I sit in the chair for a while first, to prove there are no poisonous spikes sticking up out of it?”

Krik considered, “Yes, it would.”

Emlech, smiling, sat in the chair, leaned back and looked up at the other vykker, A few seconds later he stood up and slid into the larger chair behind his desk. Krik, looking unhappy about the arrangement, sat down.

Emlech leaned forwards, “Let’s get this out of the way now. I’m not going to offer you food or drink (unless you ask for it), I’m not going to make you stand by the window, walk out of any doors before me or use any other creative method of assassinating you. You being dead won’t get me my money.”

There was a long silence. Krik broke it. “What’s this about then?”

“It’s about a mutually beneficial business arrangement between friends.”

There was one thing in particular that Krik liked about Emlech. Emlech was the boss of a massive company. He had hundreds of inhabitants working for him (willingly or not), in fact he could simply have sat back in his office and let the whole thing run itself. But Emlech got involved in the every-day goings on of his company. He still took part in the experiments and research. Krik liked that.

“This is about the money I owe you.” Krik didn’t like how his friend always took his time getting to the point in a conversation. It made him feel like a fly caught in a web watching a spider sit about for hours.

Emlech smiled, “How much do you owe me, Krik?”

“You tell me.”

The older vykker chuckled, “Alright, You owe me two and a half million moolah.”

Krik sat up in his chair, looking affronted, “It’s two million!”

The two vykkers stared wilfully at each other for several seconds. Eventually Krik sank back in his chair with a shrug. “It was worth a try.”

Emlech laughed, “Shrewd as ever! Two and a half million… And what is your total debt, Krik?”

“Now that is none of your business!”

“Oh come on! What would I possibly do to hurt you with that information?”

Krik muttered, “I can think of a few things.”

His friend rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to help you, Krik.”

The other vykker looked suspicious but eventually replied reluctantly, “14 million, including the money I owe you.”

Emlech mused, “That’s 11 and a half then-”

Krik looked surprised, “What, you’re letting me off the money I owe you?”

“Oh, don’t be a fool,” Emlech replied, “Like anyone on Mudos would give away that much moolah!”

“Well what then? If you called me all this way to talk in riddles and ask pointless questions then I’ll go. I’m very busy, I have a lot of money to make out of thin air and I’d like to be getting on with it.” He got up and went for the door.

Emlech stayed quiet throughout Krik’s outburst, but as his hand closed around the door handle he spoke up, “There’s a sniper waiting outside this office.”

Krik froze and turned slowly.

Emlech laughed raucously, “The look on your face!” Krik growled and slumped back into his chair. Emlech sat up, looking alert and said quietly, “I need to order some more DNAse. I’ve almost run out.”

Krik looked surprised, “Already?”

Emlech shrugged, “I run a big business.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to pay 14 million moolah for your next shipment?”

“It wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Krik sighed, “I thought not.”

“Seven years was it, that you were working on this mock-queen thing?”

“Nine,” Krik answered gruffly.

Emlech nodded. “I like to think I know you well, Krik, and not just by your reputation.” Krik looked up, wondering where this was leading. “And I know without a doubt that a vykker who could create something like DNAse would never destroy nine years work just because some glukkon told him to.”

Krik looked suspicious, “I destroyed the records of my work.”

“But I’d bet everything you own you made copies?” He gave Krik a penetrating look, “More than one?”

“Don’t judge me, Emlech. You’re no law-abiding citizen yourself.”

“I never claimed I was. I always liked the idea of having my own source of mudokons. And I’ll tell you now that I have more than one laboratory that isn’t on any official Cartel records where I could do with some extra slaves. If I keep buying slaves but not using them in any of the facilities the Cartel knows about I may arouse suspicion.”

Krik leant forwards, “You’re offering to buy my research?”

Emlech gave him a scheming look. “I would ask to buy a copy of your research, if only you hadn’t destroyed them all.”

Krik grinned for the first time in weeks, “It’s a shame. If only there was some copy lying around somewhere which you happened to find, purely by coincidence of course.”

“Yes, and you know, and you know I wouldn’t expect to find it at all, unless I’d been in your laboratory for some reason, for example helping you out, since we’re friends, by paying you, say… 15 million moolah?”

Krik narrowed his eyes, “18 million.”

“Seventeen.”

“Deal!”

Krik stood up. “Well I had better leave. Places to see, people to go. I should let you round my lab sometime. Shall we say, in two days?”

“Midday, the day after tomorrow, I’ll be there with a little money to help you out of your nasty situation.”

“And I’ll make sure all copies of my work are properly destroyed. I wouldn’t want you to accidentally find one on your way out.”

They shook hands and Krik turned to the door. He grasped the handle and then paused before letting it go. “I think I’ll let you leave the room first, just in case there is someone waiting outside.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Bit rushed so formatting might be incorrect in places.
Reply!

[Seargentbig]

Ahh, such confidence in writing. I reckon that's what I'd call it, anyway. I like the character Emlech, quite unique.

[Splat]

Thanks Searge. Emlech will have quite a roll to play so I'm glad you like him. The question is, will you like him when he's played that roll?
The first part of chapter 7 has been edited, so feel free to check it out. It's still not perfect, but it's definately better.

[Venks]

Whoo, I'm finally up to date, so when is that next chapter coming out?

Heh it was pretty funny in the previous chapter when you were describing how old Holes was, then shortly after that you said he 'gave in.'
I now know that you meant he gave in to Krik's annoying demands, but at the time I thought you meant Holes had died.
I realized my folly when Holes is suddenly alive again thinking positive of Krik's work.
Was I the only reader who thought Holes was dead?

[Splat]

T-nex forced me to stay online till after midnight last night working on the next chapter. I've also had to PM Max the Mug a few times to ask him for information on Skillya, Maggie and Sam. The next chapter is starting to take shape in my mind and I've just finished my most recent Wars of the Art picture so I should hopefully have the next chapter done by Saturday.
EDIT: Was it this story you noticed that spelling thing Venks? Cus I searched and didn't find it.

EDIT (again): Just finished the chapter so it'll be released on Saturday. Ought to mention that I'm rating it for teenagers only (or older of course). Anyone who knows about what Skillya does to the sligs who displease her will be able to figure out why.
If you are under 13 I can't stop you from reading it; just remember you have been warned. I've added a few lines into the prologue and to chapter 6 to bring Skillya to attention a little more, since I think she should have had more of a mention what with Tilic turning traitor and all.

[Venks]

Thanks Searge. Emlech will have quite a roll to play so I'm glad you like him. The question is, will you like him when he's played that roll?
The first part of chapter 7 has been edited, so feel free to check it out. It's still not perfect, but it's definately better.

Oops silly me, I thought it was actually in your story, but nope its in that post.

[Splat]

By golly; it's my first ever midnight update! (though it is of course half past midnight. You can probably guess my mother isn't around).

As I mentioned on Thursday, due to disturbing content (not gory, just disturbing) this chapter is recommended for use by teens or older only. I of course can't stop you reading it; just remember you've been warned. I'll stick a summary at the end of the chapter and also say why it's recommended for teens only so that if you don't want to risk it you don't have to.
I might have gone a little too far in this one. Not sure myself; I've asked a few people and they've said it's ok, but I value your opinions greatly, so let me know!
I think the ending of this chapter looses impact, so tell me about that as well. Be honest; your criticism helps me improve!

On with the show.

Chapter 10

Two days after the meeting, Emlech came round to the lab where Krik worked to pick up his supply of DNAse (which as Krik had predicted was by then widely used and accepted) and left 17 million moolah poorer, but carrying a piece of paper that would shape the rest of his life.

Krik, with his desperately needed money in hand, quickly paid off the debts to his investors and left the lab where he was employed before any awkward questions could be asked. Wanting to keep a low profile, he used a small portion of the three million he had left and rented and stocked out a small lab, He found another vykker with an eye for genetics who agreed to share the lab and pay half the rent under the condition that they stayed out of each others way. Over the next few years the two vykkers sent a fair portion of their time peering over each others shoulders and trying to work out what the other was doing, in case it was some idea that they could steal for themselves.

Krik hired an intern and spent the next three years dabbling on paramites and fuzzles and generally wasting time on pointless jobs. He was by now used to living richly and the money he kept back was used up rapidly. Krik was as sadistic as the next vykker, but he quickly became bored of just dabbling. He wanted to be doing something serious, something no one else had done before!

After two years of this when he was on the point of going broke again, he managed to get a job working for a wanna-be glukkon who had just opened a meat packing plant. Krik, now in his forties and a third of the way to his maximum life-expectancy, pieced together a few recipes for the glukkon which earned him a measly amount of money until better ideas replaced his own and he was politely but firmly ejected from the company. Krik, by now sick of the world, left with a few choice curse-words and only after informing the glukkon that he would never go anywhere. He never did accept the fact that he was just bad at the job.

Krik went back to money-wasting and later on took a job testing cosmetic products intended for use by the glukkon queen and leader of the Magog Cartel, Margaret. Queen Margaret was used to having her every whim seen to. She decided when makeup went out of fashion, which was rather frequently, and she demanded a constant supply of new products. All products had to be tested strenuously to make sure they wouldn’t harm her. Krik started off low in the testing company but when he started suggesting changes to be made to products to make them safer he was suddenly and rapidly promoted. His work on making the mock queen had given him a good knowledge of bio-chemistry and he was significantly better at this job that he was at his last one. Money began rolling in once more and he realised that working for the industrial queens was not at all a bad career choice if you were good at it. It was a pathway to fame and fortune.

He worked hard and ascended up the corporate ladder but developed a repulsion towards his work. He hated the thought of working for the creature who had ruined him before with her silly law shutting down his mock-queen research. After some thought he turned his attention towards the slig queen, Skillya.

Skillya was fairly young, bratty and obsessed with gold, jewellery. She hoarded gold, jewels and other shiny things like a dragon, and it was widely known she had the temperament of one as well. There were rumours beginning to form about the things she did to sligs who displeased her, ranging from bathing in their blood to cooking them alive and eating them. It made Krik grin just to think about it. He made up his mind for a career change and quit his job at the first opportunity.

This may not have been his wisest choice; for he learnt shortly afterwards that you couldn’t just get a job working for Skillya. She picked all her employees herself, and she only employed you if you got her attention. The problem with that was that most people who got Skillya’s attention ended up as pie filling (or so the rumours would have to believe).

Krik decided on a risky tactic. He started advertising that fact that he planned on doing behavioural modification experiments on sligs, to make them more obedient. This did not make Krik a very popular vykker. Obviously sligs hated the idea, and vykkers also began to avoid him like the plague, not wanting to have anything to do with him if Skillya came after him. Several days after he put his plan into action he got a letter from Emlech telling him to shut up before he got himself killed. Krik sent a reply stating that he knew what he was doing and Emlech should mind his own business. It was the last time they talked for many years.

Krik continued to advertise his intentions, and even begun gathering the tools he felt he would need for the experiment. As a finishing touch he sent out an advert asking for sligs to work for him. The pay was low and there was some risk of injury.

Two days later a pair of bulky sligs (big-bros not being around in those days) appeared at his front door in the afternoon. “Ah, excellent! You’ll be here for the job I assume. If you’ll just step this way…” Krik was going to take this as far as was necessary.

One of the sligs swore at him in Sliggish (at least Krik assumed he was swearing, since he knew nothing of the sligs’ language) and shoved a letter into his hand. He opened it. It was from Skillya, demanding he came to see her.

Krik grinned at the two sligs, “Fine. I’ll just go and pack a few things and then-”

He was cut off when both sligs raised their guns to point at him. “You’re coming now.” One growled. The next thing Krik knew, he was sat blindfolded in a train carriage (which he considered unnecessary, since there were no windows in the train).

Skillya was not as famous or as important as Margaret, but she was valuable and necessary none the less, so the Magog Cartel generally let her do what she wanted. The Vykker’s Council was less inclined to bow to her every whim but they had almost no power anymore and mostly went along with what Queen Margaret demanded.

The facility Krik arrived at seemed to have been shaped out of a series of caves, some natural, others almost certainly carved out by machine. It was a sparse place, lit with flickering strip lights and full of wide corridors which only emphasised the emptiness of the whole underground lair.

Krik was led to a small room furnished with a few uncomfortable benches and a much withered pot-plant which looked like it hadn’t been watered for several years. The room smelt heavily of air-freshener which masked another scent that Krik couldn’t quite make out, though he sniffed obviously for a while. He waited nearly an hour before a scared-looking slig emerged through a small door and ushered him through.

The chamber where Skillya spent her days was vast, a roughly ovular room carved out of the rock. Jewellery made from all metals and precious stones was heaped around, glittering in the dull artificial light that was barely sufficient to light the room, leaving the corners in darkness.

And in the centre, right in front of Krik, was the slig queen, Skillya. Despite being young (by a queens standards anyway) she was already massive, though that was normal. Her whole form was disgustingly ugly. Her large face, unmasked, bore unpleasant black eyes, puffy and sunken, that seemed too small for her head. She had face-tentacles like normal worker class sligs, though they were much longer and more splayed out. They were stained with what could have been grease or blood. Her fingers were long and slender, more like an intern’s than a sligs, though like a worker-class slig the middle one was much shorter than the others. She was adorned with necklaces and bracelets and her fingers and tentacles were covered with rings, though all the jewellery only served to emphasise her ugliness.

“Haah! Chuh ur Krik!” Was the first thing she said to him in a growling, hissing, grunting voice. Sliggish was a very different language from the normal Mudosian spoken by most other creatures on Oddworld. It consisted of sounds very different from that of the common language, clicks, growls and hisses all made it up. For that reason some sligs struggled to speak it properly, but Skillya was ten times worse than any slig Krik had heard. A conversation with her was nerve-racking, fearing to misunderstand her and offend her (and she wasn’t difficult to offend), as she made no secret of what she did to those who upset her.

This was brought home to Krik by the two sligs who walked towards him carrying a platter of steaming meat. The two sligs were keeping their body language neutral, hiding their emotions. It took Krik a few seconds to understand why.

The platter bore three dead sligs, cooked in their skins, their heads removed. The plate was brought over to Krik and Skillya gestured with a hand, offering him the meat. The idea was suddenly much less entertaining to Krik now he realised it was more than a mere rumour. “No thank you,” He barely managed to stutter to the sligs, a lump forming in his throat. Skillya smiled at him cunningly and gestured to the two sligs, who brought the platter to her. She selected one of the cooked sligs carefully and picked it up before looking at Krik and hissing softly, “I’rn exriintin hih cookin,”

‘I’m experimenting with cooking’ Krik translated for himself as she lifted the poor dead slig to her mouth and bit into it. Grease and blood ran down her face and fingers and when Krik realised she was eating one of her own children he had to look away. He fixed his stare on one of the piles of treasure as he listened to her chew.

“Ur rak hi corktion?” ‘You like my collection?’

“It’s diverse,” Krik answered quickly, “Very varied, very…” He grasped for a word, “Alluring.”

He glanced back at her. She was grinning at him, obviously enjoying seeing him so intimidated. He looked away again quickly when he realised she was still eating and fixed his gaze at another heap of gold.

“Ki Marratt s so enerse,” She hissed. Krik was only just paying attention and merely nodded stiffly. He knew scrabs sometimes ate their young, when food was scarce.

“Ur exhirrent too, hyes?”

He recognised ‘Ur’ as ‘You’ and snapped to attention. “Yes,” He said quickly, “Yes, I- I like to experiment… I see… I want to see how things… fit together… so I can make them b-better.” He forced himself to look in her direction. She was chewing the meat off of the slig’s tail.

“Ur hon tur exrihent un sha childen, hyes?” ‘On her children,’

“Yes, uh, yes.” The idea was however beginning to seem less appealing with every mouthful, especially if it meant working near her. No amount of moolah was worth this! However, he was glancing at the platter bearing the cooked sligs and imagining his own cooked body sitting there. Somehow he didn’t like the idea of telling Queen Skillya that he had suddenly had a change of heart.

She was silent for a while, slowly savouring the last of her child’s meat, and dropping the bones onto the platter as stripped them of flesh. Finally she threw the last bone down and ushered the sligs holding the platter away. They made for the door, going as fast as they could without looking like they were hurrying. She sat watching them, looking amused, while she sucked the grease from her fingers.

“Ah car suh hutch hur sha childen. I udn han then eein haarnt.” ‘I care so much for my children. I wouldn’t want them being harmed.’

He assumed she was making a joke. He started speaking in a rush, “They wouldn’t be harmed overly much; just a few blood tests. The ones I test on might-”

She put up a hand and he fell silent with a gasp, as if his voice had been sucked out. “Hot ur chu to then?”

“What will I… Oh! I apologise, I didn’t-” The look of impatience, building to anger made him stop and stutter for a few seconds, “B-Behaviour modification! Change the way they act; make them more obedient.”

She looked at him unpleasantly, “Eh diso-ey, eh ent uh here!” She slapped her stomach. ‘They disobey, they end up here.’

For a few seconds Krik thought she meant that the thought of what she would do to disobedient sligs was deterrent enough, but then the more unpleasant thought that she wanted them to misbehave so she could punish them came to his mind. He was fighting a battle he would have a hard time winning.

“Buh-but, if they, if they’re obedient, the Cartel will reward you more!” What was he doing! He wanted to get out of this job; why was he fighting his case like this?

Skillya stared at him for what seemed to Krik to be a very long time; he cringed. Then her eyes drifted up to gaze at the piles of gold and silver and jewels around the room. “Hot harren tu cha sligs ur oose?”

“Uh, not… Most will be just blood tests, nothing permanent or… damaging. Some I’ll need to test on. They might… suffer illnesses, mental retardation,” She gave him an uncomprehending look, “Insanity. Some might go insane, or loose the ability to use parts of their bodies.”

“Ainhul?” ‘Painful?’

“For some.”

She looked thoughtful, gazing at the piles of gold and silver heaped around the room. Then a sickly grin spread across her face. She turned her eyes back on Krik, “Hi do bissniss. Hurk tukether. Ur hurk here!”

Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to refuse. He wanted nothing more than to run out of there and never have to look at that disgusting, cannibalistic monster of a slig-mother again. “Yes. I’ll work here.” He felt as if he’d just signed his own death sentence.

Her grin widened, “I kish ur sligs ur need. Ur ask, I kish.” ’I’ll give you sligs you need.’
“Thank you.”

“Ar sligs rink ur thinks here. Ur hurk fur he now!”

‘My sligs bring your things here. You work for me now!’

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Comments! Did I take it too far? Did the ending lack impact because I had to translate what she said? Were her speeches too hard to translate yourself? Reply! Tell me!

The stuff about Skillya cooking trouble-making sligs wasn't made up by me, but was official information provided by Oddworld Inhabitants. We at 'A Jar of Dead Fish Productions' in no way encourage behaviour such as Skillya's.


THE ALL IMPORTANT SUMMARY!

Oddworld Inhabitants hasn't told us much about the slig queen, Skillya, though it has been revealed that she sometimes cooks sligs that are sent to her for punishment. It's largely because of this fact that I've had to boost the rating on this chapter.
It's safe to read up until Krik arrives at Skillya's lair, so you can go and read that now. Once Krik is taken to see Skillya he's disgusted by her appearance. She lives in a big stone cavern and lots of gold and treasure is stacked around her: gifts from the Magog Cartel intended to keep her happy and laying. Skillya really likes treasure. She also likes having people fear her.
Skillya speaks Mudosian (the normal language spoken by just about everyone on Mudos) very badly so most of what she says is hard to understand. She asks Krik what he intends to do but doesn't like the sound of his aims of improving their behaviour. He tells her the Cartel will reward her more if sligs are better behaved, and when he points out that some of his test subjects will suffer nasty deaths she agrees and gives him a job. He very much wants to turn down the job, from fear and general dislike of her, but his fear of her anger and his own pride stop him and he accepts the job.


Now reply! All those who reply will be rewarded with the knowledge that their opinions are very much valued by me. So reply! And that means YOU!

[E'l Scrabino]

Argh! I'm being forced to reply!

I liked it. T'was a bit gruesome, but you warned me and it was my own fault i read it right through

I can't wait to see how this story develops, so keep it up!


Lol 666 posts.

[Gretin]

I didn't think you'd gone too far, but that might just be me

But yeah, some of Skillya's speech I wouldn't have been able to make anything of if you hadn't translated... And it did kinda affect the ending. But it was a good chapter nonetheless.

[Venks]

I think someone said this before, but ever since you started writing about Krik your writing style seems different and its hard for me to see the events in my head.
However once Krik went to Skillya's lair I was able to follow it in my head, for some reason the imagery is better when Krik is enteracting with other characters, atleast for me.

I don't think it was that gruesome, I wouldn't read this to a seven year old, but a fifth grader would have no problem.

Oh and about Skillya, why did you make her eyes red? I'm pretty sure all Sligs have beady black eyes.
I was also going to quote something about how Glukkons give Sligs red masks because they think that seeing everything in red would make them more cruel. I can't find the original info anywhere, I remember reading it... in a Dear Alf archive I think. I've been looking for 3 hours now, but no luck.

Anyways good story.

[Splat]

Well since I had no idea what colour her eyes wold be (what with the masks) I just guessed. Since she's the Queen it is possible that she has different coloured eyes from the working classes, but never mind. I might edit it at some point if I get more information.

[Gretin]

Haha, that's why I'm always hesitant to write fan-fiction on something and make up what I don't know... because then sometimes you do find out the facts and they don't go with what you've written
I've never heard of the sligs having beady black eyes, though... But then, I don't delve that deeply into all the Oddworld stuffs.
I wouldn't trust the things Alf tells people though While it's all in good fun, I'm pretty sure a lot of it is complete nonsense XD

[Venks]

I listen to a lot of things Alf says, there are times when what he says is actually true. Alf mentions Sligs having beady black eyes, but that wasn't even the focus of the question, I think he released that info by accident.
Though there is a MO pic of a Slig that you can see passed his visor and he has beady black eyes.
I'm your man when it comes to Sligs, I mad search for any official say on anything about them.

[dripik]

I gained enough patience and free time and finally caught up with the story. The first part was rather entertaining, with the hunt for the experiments and sudden twist with Tilic taking the Vykkers' side.

The second part seems also interesting, I liked the conversation between Krik and Emlech, with the possible assassination methods.

The last chapter was more tense, it wasn't obvious how Krik would get out of the situation. You described the Slig Queen exactly as I have imagined her some days ago. Longer tentacles, no mask (what use would that have anyway?), large cavern...

This is rather inspiring, seeing that I'm starting my own fanfic right after I made this post. But I won't advertise it here, or Splat might give me a bomb-cookie.

[Slaveless]

Absolutely adore the chapters you have written. I love how you start the stories with characters you don't know too much about. Then you transition into the backstory that eventually leads into what you read about in the beginning, is pretty orginal and creative.

Now about this last chapter. Certainly was a goresome chapter, but quite tense and vivid. Reminds me a little bit of the movie Indiana Jones: The Temple of Doom. Skillya seems even more evil than I ever imagined her to be. The whole factor of loving to be cannibal seems shocking to me, since I just thought Skillya was just very angry at every Slig. I probably wouldn't have gone through reading this if I haven't been playing Abe games for years. It only makes me frigthened how deep I should go into writing about my own role playing characters.

@Venks: A person in my own grade gets dizzy from hearing about stitches being applied to a boy. I don't think 5th graders get to read about cannibalist mothers.

[Splat]

Remember I am generally aiming this at an older audience than W@RF, so more is acceptible. I'm glad you've all liked it so far.
Now you know what all the sligs are terrified of being sent to mother!

There'll only be one or two more chapters as Krik (depending on how long it ends up when I've written it all out) before I switch to the next section. Part three will start a little differently since the main character has already been introduced. Where I'll go after that remains to be seen.


Guess whose finally gotten their hands on a copy of Abe's Oddysee?

If I don't update on Saturday you'll know what I'm doing.

[Venks]

Hey Splat, is Sliggish the official language of Sligs or is that something you made up for your story?

[Slaveless]

Sliggish is something people describe the croaks and ribbets Sligs speak in the games they are seen in. We know that their speech is nothing that the creatures speak and it even is regonized on VoiceLocks. It is something people have made up in W@RF, as Gappiqu has been said to have a Mudosian to Sliggish dictionary in v.5.

Only a few more chapters with Krik? Now I get see Dionysia before Rupture Farms.

Simply curious, are you going to add the bit of what Krik, Stivik, and Dionysia goes through in Rupture Farms? I know there is a huge portion with Stivik, involving Nick, Anni, and the rest of the gang, but would it be reasonable to add that portion into the story? I would love to see how you would portray Gappiqu's actions in Dionysia's eyes.

[Seargentbig]

Sorry I haven't replied, the net has been on the fritz. That last chapter was powerful, I think. For me, the translations served to make the encounter more surreal. And I agree with dripik (Dripik?), it's very much how I envisioned the slig queen.
Good to hear you got Abe's Oddysee. Enjoy!

[Splat]

New chapter alert! Three days late, thanks to exams, writers block and of course Abe's Oddysee, but here it is at last!
First, however, responding to my fans!

I got the OWI Art Book the same time I got AO, and I noticed there's a concept picture of a Big Bro without a mask, and the eyes appear to be rather sunken and stuff. Whether its an affect of the steroids or it's natural I don't know, but it will be taken into account and I might edit chapter 10 to include it.
As for sliggish, like Slaveless said, it's a fan concept. Dionysia won't be appearing in this section but will turn up later on, and yes, I will be covering time spent at Rupture Farms. When I get to that point I'll put this story on hold until the RPG progresses if I need to, though there's a fair amount that needs to happen first.

This chapter is safe for all, though it does include some technobabble, like most of Krik's chapters. Never mind, I shall continue.

Chapter 11

Krik began work at once. He was provided a room to live and sleep in, and another room to do up as a lab using the things brought over from his small rented place. He did it up as best he could and got to work.

Skillya was at first very interested in Krik’s project. A few days in when he had gotten all his equipment set up and had written out test plans and time sheets for the job, he asked for his first few sligs to run tests on and the next thing he knew he was (much to his dismay) being called into her ‘lair’. She demanded to know every detail of what he was going to do to these sligs and was somewhat disappointed when he managed to explain that he just needed to run a few minor psychological tests and take blood samples. She sent him out and after a while provided a few of her attendants for him to experiment with.

The main problem with trying to do research on the sligs Skillya provided was that they were all so nervous working around her that they were constantly in a state of extreme stress. Krik needed blood samples from sligs who were at least fairly relaxed to compare with the blood samples of stressed sligs.

It took him a few days to summon up the courage to confront Skillya about the dilemma. When he told her that he would need to leave her facility to interview sligs from outside, her eyes bulged with anger and he thought she was going to have him executed right then and there. “Thiss iss hah ur rehay hy chenerosity? Ur try tu escape ass soon ass my ack iss turnt? Ur think I’rn Stuthid?”

“No-no! That’s not what I meant!” Krik took a few gulping breaths and tried to continue, “All the sligs here are so sc- stressed! I n-need relaxed sligs to test on, as well as stressed ones!”

Her anger calmed down, but he could tell she was still seething. She didn’t trust him any more than he trusted her. “I have vykkers hurking thur me outtsside. Ur tell him hot ur need. He does tests hur ur, hyes?”

“Yes! Yes. You, I mean, if you tell me how to contact him, I’ll let him know what I need. Is there a fone?”

Skillya eyed him predatorily. “Na sligs show ur thone. Ur rink na vykker, no hon else.”

She sent him back to his lab and half an hour later a pair of sligs came and showed him to a fone, hidden behind a door opened via a voicelock. They gave him a number to ring and guarded him while he dialled and spoke.

The vykker that came onto the screen was a few years younger than Krik, and a little skinny, even for a vykker. “This is Dr Edward Cekyll speaking.”

“Um,” Krik began awkwardly, “I’m Dr Krik. I recently began working for Queen Skillya-” He was cut off by Cekyll, who began laughing loudly. Krik looked annoyed, “She informed me that you were also working for her and would help me with the project I’m working on.”

He had stopped laughing, but was grinning slyly. “Of course, of course. Once you start a job fro Skillya you never escape her claws.” Krik didn’t like the sound of that. He glanced over his shoulder at the two sligs but their faces were blank. Cekyll went on, “And what is it you need of me?”

“I hope you know something of biochemistry?” He didn’t like the young vykker much. He didn’t seem very intelligent and he clearly had no respect.

“Yes, yes. I was trained in all that, hormones, microbiology…”

Krik nodded stiffly. “Well I’m looking for information on the stress response in sligs. It’s rather hard to do any proper research here since all the sligs are nervous wrecks.”

“It’s not just the sligs,” Cekyll muttered. Krik ignored him.

“I’d appreciate it if you could run blood tests on about 75 to 100 sligs. Make sure the sligs are as close to being fully relaxed as you can get them before you take the samples. Then redo about half of them in more stressful situations. Make the appropriate notes and send me the results.”

“You don’t ask for much,” Cekyll told him sarcastically, but Krik could tell by the expression on his face that he liked the idea of stressing the sligs. Like most vykkers he would probably come up with a few creative methods of doing so.

Krik ended the conversation and was escorted back to his lab. For the next few weeks he went through most of the sligs in the facility, monitoring stress levels, taking blood tests and studying hormones. Skillya seemed to have lost interest in his work, leaving him to get on with it undisturbed. Just as his tests were nearing completion. Cekyll arrived at the facility in person with the results of his own research. Krik took them and thanked him and Cekyll told him just what he didn’t want to hear.

“I’ll be staying around to help you with your research. Queen Skillya thought giving you an assistant would speed you up, and I volunteered for the job. DNAse has saved me from a few tight corners and as soon as I realised you were that Krik I decided I should return the favour and show you how to survive with her highness breathing down your neck all the time.”

Krik was not best pleased with this turn of events, though when he looked at the information Cekyll had gathered he was forced to admit that he was clearly very good at his job. The next few months were spent comparing data, studying patterns and drawing conclusions. Krik never became fond of the younger vykker, but he would grudgingly admit he was glad of his presence, not just for his help on the work but also because he was the only person Krik could talk to who wasn’t either near to nervous collapse or likely to eat him if he said the wrong thing.

After months of work they were finally ready to experiment on a live subject. Krik informed the younger vykker that he intended to ask Skillya for a number of slig eggs to test on. Cekyll disagreed and insisted they test on adult sligs, at least for the first few months. Krik agreed, though somewhat reluctantly, and they worked on putting together an injectable formula that should affect the behaviour of the subject for a few weeks. There was no doubt that it would affect the subject’s behaviour, though how it would affect it was less certain.

Cekyll elected to go and tell Skillya the good news and ask for a test subject and came back satisfied. A few days later they were given a rebellious slig who did not seem particularly thankful towards the vykkers, even when they reminded him that they had saved him from a trip to Skillya’s kitchen.

They injected him with the formula and he spent the next few weeks rolling and thrashing in pain, much to Skillya’s delight, while the vykkers observed, ran a few tests when he stayed still long enough, and made scientific observations of his behaviour and the possible causes. The affects did indeed wear off after two and a half weeks and in the end it turned out the vykkers didn’t save him from Skillya after all.

The two scientists went back to the drawing board, clocked up some more sums and came up with a new formula which they tested on the next slig Skillya provided for them. They observed the affects with interest. “He doesn’t seem to be in quite as much pain as the last one,” Krik informed his partner.

Cekyll nodded. “It’s certainly and improvement. Not sure about all the bleeding though.”

If nothing else, Skillya seemed happier than ever, and didn’t seem to mind the fact that the slig died before it reached her oven.

So it went on for a few months more. As the unfortunate side effects began to diminish and the sligs tended to live longer, Skillya seemed to grow less pleased and Cekyll suggested that they use some of the older formulas for every third slig, just to keep her happy. Krik agreed that it might not be a bad idea.

He was still concerned by the fact that the sligs needed regular injections to make the effects last. Changing sligs’ behaviour had little purpose if it only lasted for three weeks. Cekyll suggested they simply make the product incredibly addictive, and so stop the sligs from not taking it. Krik, however, was not happy with this solution: for him it was permanence or nothing, and to make it permanent, the formula had to be administered during very early development, before the sligs hatched from their eggs. He made the suggestion, but Cekyll stated bluntly that he was not going to ask Skillya for eggs to work on, and as he was still the only one of the pair who willingly went to Skillya to ask for test subjects, that seemed to settle the matter.

For Krik, however, it didn’t. One day he went to Skillya himself. She was no less frightening than she had seemed before, but that wasn’t going to stop him. She was surprised to see him instead of Cekyll, but he told her Cekyll was feeling unwell and, not wanting her to become ill, he was here to make the request instead. Sweet-talk them; make them think you care. He started off easily, asking for another slig for them to experiment on. She asked what they were likely to do with him and how their experiments were progressing. He told her they were going to be testing something new and wasn’t sure if it would go well. Tell them what they want to here; get them on your side. Finally, just as he was about to leave he asked her if they could have a few eggs to test on to try and make the effects more permanent.

She screamed at him in sliggish. However frightening he had found her before was nothing compared to the sheer might of her wrath in those few seconds. He stumbled backwards and before he really knew it he was outside of the chamber, his back pressed to the door, gasping for breath.

Cekyll rolled his eyes at him when he told him what had happened. “You never listen to anything you don’t want to hear, do you Krik?” He informed him.

“I don’t understand!”

Cekyll raised his hands in a desperate gesture, “Call it what you want, some perverse sense of justice or something; Skillya would never hurt a slig before he’s done anything wrong. Once they’ve broken the law, upset her or whatever then fine; she’ll gut them, cook them, let us torture them, but only if they’ve shown that they deserve it. And she won’t let anyone touch her eggs, unless Queen Margaret authorises it. And she certainly wouldn’t let you.”

Krik looked defensive, “Why not me?”

“Because you walk around with your nose in the air like you’re better than the rest of us! She wants the people around her to grovel, to make her feel like she’s got power over all of us. You walk around like you can control her.”

Krik swore at him and stormed away.

A few days later he was forced to put aside his anger, however, because they had work to do and Skillya was waiting. Skillya didn’t like to be kept waiting.

Work went on, and Krik realised for the first time that he’d been working for Skillya for over two years, and at last they were approaching the climax of all their work. Krik was hoping to for the opportunity to test the product on a slig who wasn’t already a known criminal, but things were looking good, when they received a message from Skillya stating that she was cutting her funding for their project. Krik woke up one morning to be informed of the news by Cekyll.

“That’s it then,” He told Krik, “It was fun, but that’s it.”

“You’re just going to stop?” Krik demanded, “After all that work we’ve put it?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you thought she was going to let us finish? She let it carry on as soon as it provided an interesting way of killing prisoners, but she never actually wanted to you to improve the behaviour of her children! If they were all suddenly obedient she wouldn’t have any to punish would she? And she wouldn’t like that.” Krik was staring at him, dumbfounded. Cekyll gave him a pitying expression, “Look, we got paid, we had fun and that’s it. Don’t push your luck. We’ll probably be working here for a few more weeks to clear this up, and then if you’re lucky she’ll let you out into the world until she needs you again.”

The day was spent half-heartedly packing up equipment, filing papers and tidying away two years of work which had ended in the same way as his eleven years of the Mock-Queen project.

Krik made up his mind. After midnight he left his room and crept down to the hatchery. The sligs outside were sleeping and he moved past them as silently as he could.

He returned to his room a short while later with three rounded, green slig eggs. He unpacked some of his equipment from their boxes and, in his room in the near darkness, got to work.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Every time you don't reply to this story, Krik kills a sliglet.

[Zozo the Zrilufet]

Awesomes.....Did he nick her eggs? Will she find out if he did? Du dum dummmm...I find the hypocrisy over how she still has feelings for her eggs but not her grown up kids confusing.