Odd of War

[Lord Stanley]

Sorry it's taking so long to get more chapters out. It's just been so busy these days...

[Lord Stanley]

CHAPTER TWELVE

Fangus Klot had never thought that anything could possibly hurt as much as he hurt now. As an experienced gladiator – the most skilled and most proficient fighter in the entire Vamp empire – he had gone through his share of pain, both in training and in battles, and in the fight for his honor. He had felt pain from herding his Demon Sheep, and had felt pain from the rough and uncaring hand of his father, Fangus Horrd.

But never had he felt the pain of death before. He had suffered bolts from seven different Inriks. Seven. Just one, when fired in the right spot, would kill the organic tissue and end a life, but he had taken seven. He had blacked out from the pain instants after suffering the seventh blow, and now, though he could not see, could feel the pain. He could feel exactly where the Inrik bolts had struck his body and killed his flesh.

But for some weird, odd reason, he was still alive. Inriks had been made to kill living things, and they had always done so with Vampish precision, but he had survived.

And he knew why he had survived, too. It wasn’t that Fate had wanted him for some other purpose than to end up as dead meat after a promising career; it was because he was strong. He was the greatest of the Fanguses, greatest of the gladiators, greatest of all beings –

But he hurt. He hurt as if his entire body was splintered, shattered, and broken in so many different ways he couldn’t count them all. He could barely summon the strength to blink open his eyes, and even that felt like lifting the whole Zyxlag into the air after living on starvation rations for a week. For a moment, all he could see was pure, glaring white.

Before his weakened eyes could focus on anything, one of his other senses kicked in: smell. Wherever he was, it stank to high heaven. It was even worse than the odor emitted by his Demon Sheep when they needed a bath, and that was saying a lot. The stench only added to his pain, and he released a groan of anguish.

Then he could see where he was, finally: the waste management facility. In the dump. Thrown away like so much trash. He was lying atop a heap of sharp metal bits, which poked into his skin and dug deep into his flesh and nerves. He was beaten, and wounded.

But he was alive, and he would return.

After all, he was Fangus Klot, the greatest gladiator in history. He could pull through anything; this would be nothing but a test, to see if he could come back with a vengeance after Emperor Essir thought he had been slain. He would have his revenge on the Vamp Emperor, and everyone in the Vamp Empire would know.

* * *

[Hulaabeo]

Very good, too bad I didn't read the first part...
It seems that you're just making up species as we go along. The Vamps are awesome, and Fangus Klot gives me a very weird feeling. He's a hero, thats all I know. And I wonder what the hell Abe is doing hanging around with sligs!

[Lord Stanley]

I'm not making up species. The Vamps and the Fangus were both species invented for the "Oddworld game that never was," the Brutal Ballad of Fangus Klot. You should go to the Oddworld Encyclopaedia and look up some of the concept art. The Zyxlag is my own invention, however, and Abe is hanging out with Sligs because they're uniting for the same cause: to kill the Keuja.

Sorry it's been so long!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“You know,” Oner said wryly, “I’m starting to enjoy prison life.”

Abe glanced around, and shrugged. “We won’t be out for a long time, so you’d better get used to it.”

He looked at the large storage compartment into which he and the three Sligs had been roughly shoved several hours ago. It was dark, totally so except for a thin slit that provided them with enough fresh air to live and a thin sliver of light. The compartment was solid metal, thin but strong, and every part of Abe’s body was sore from sitting, lying, and kneeling in here for so long.

They were moving, too. Apparently the Vamps had attached the container to a vehicle, because some hours ago, there had been a revving noise, and then their metal box was moving alone, bouncing slightly as if on wheels. It only added to the discomfort provided by their location, but Abe had not been one to complain about his discomfort; he took it like a real Mudokon.

Suddenly their journey came to a jerking halt, throwing Abe forward. Oner, Crak, and Cloud fell flat on their faces with grunts of surprise, but Abe’s reflexes were good enough that he caught himself on his hands prior to slamming his head into the metal floor.

“I think…we’ve stopped!” Oner grunted, rolling over and rubbing at his face-tentacles.

“Understatement of the century!” Cloud snapped.

Abe tried to tune them out, concentrating his audio receptors on the noises from outside. He could hear metallic clanking, like footsteps on more of the thin metal that imprisoned them, and the faint sound of Vamps talking to each other in their hissing voices. What was going on?

One side of the metal cube hissed upward, allowing bright sunlight to stream into the opening. Abe threw up his hand to cover his eyes, startled quickly by the sudden brightness after hours of the dark.

Two Vamps stood in the doorway, but unlike any others that Abe had seen: these wore gray armor that seemed to fit onto their compact forms, and in their spindly-fingered hands they held streamlined guns that crackled with white energy.

“Hello there!” Oner called out, hopping to his feet. “It’s about time you transferred us to First-Class seating! Aren’t you going to offer us peanuts already?”

(Out of character begins here)

“I didn’t know we had peanuts on Oddworld,” Cloud said. “What’s a peanut?”

“You’re speaking out of character!” Oner snapped at him. “Remember, we’re not supposed to know anything about earth!”

“Oh, yeah!” Cloud fell immediately silent.

(Out of Character ends here)

“Hush,” Abe growled.

Oner shrugged. “Better being a cheerful live Slig than a Slig who died with a frown.”

One of the Vamps gestured back with his gun. “Get out.”

“How refreshing,” Oner chuckled, as he obeyed. “A creature of few words.”

Abe observed the Vamp’s reaction: nothing at all. Apparently these guards had received a lot of insults from their prisoners over time, because none of them seemed to take the insults as anything more than meaningless words.

Abe dropped out of the metal cube onto grass. The soft touch of the plant life soothed the aching in his feet and made him close his eyes so he could simply concentrate on the nice feeling—

But one of the Vamps grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away. “We’ve arrived at our destination.”

From his new position, Abe could see across the grasslands, and suddenly he knew that they had stumbled upon a plot much bigger than anything that he’d ever met before. Possibly even worse than Keuja itself.

* * *

[Hulaabeo]

Amazing! The story line is awesome.

[ODDWORLDisTHEbest!]

love it! and what could be worse than the keuja?!

[Lord Stanley]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I don’t like the looks of this,” Crak growled.

Abe didn’t say anything that would reveal his shock and horror at what lay before him. For miles across the empty grasslands – grasslands he had never seen before – stretched hundreds of thousands of buildings. None of them had architecture like any Abe had seen before; not Glukkon, Slig, Vykker, Mudokon, Gabbit, Clakker, Outlaw, Wolvark, or Grubb.

I suppose this is a Vamp town, he thought in shock. They’ve been down here this whole time, and no one knew…?

Not only were all the buildings curved and rounded in appearance, they were all built out of some soft gray metal Abe didn’t recognize, and they glowed with soft blue energy, as if the buildings themselves were alive. Vamp guards stood around the perimeter of the town, each of them holding the funny organic-like rifles that Abe’s guards held, hundreds of guards total.

Abe wondered which he should take care of first: the Keuja, or this?

“This,” one of the guards to Abe’s left said, “is Fyharna, one of the northernmost cities of the Vamp Empire.”

“So in relation to Glukksonia,” Crak asked, “where are we?”

A Vamp slapped him across the face with the back of a hand, and Crak went flying. Abe’s eyes widened, as the Slig hit the ground and skidded a fair distance across the grass, ending up in a moaning splayed position. Vamp arms were so skinny! How could they be so strong?

“No stupid questions,” the guard hissed. “You are prisoners; your place is not to learn.”

Abe looked back out at the town, not bothering to help Crak up, since Cloud was already dealing with that. How come no one had ever known about this huge Vamp civilization down here? How had the Vamps kept this a secret for so many years? Why had Abe never seen a Vamp before yesterday? And, most importantly, what were the Vamps going to do to the rest of the world?

One of the other guards moved up to them, speaking in his soft, accented voice. “Captain? We should move them down into the city now.”

The Vamp who had struck Crak, apparently the guard captain, nodded his head. “Indeed. Load the prisoners back into the crate.”

Abe turned and headed back for their transportation container without a word of protest, without having to be pushed around. He had never been the kind to put up a defense if he didn’t have to, and with their pain-inducing rifles, he was not interested.

Plus, it would be good to get into this Vamp city. It would give them some intel on the Vamps, and let them see what their newest foes were up to.

In his heart, he already knew what they were up to: Something nasty.

* * *

[Scraby]

nice chapters, i finnaly returned from this boring long vacation...

[ledsnipe]

That was freaking awsome i'm lost for words keep it up please please please !!!!!!!!

[ledsnipe]

keep up the good work that was bloody awsome

[GABBITS OWN]

I would pay to read this if it was in a store.

[ODDWORLDisTHEbest!]

keep up the good work that was bloody awsome

do not double post, i'm sure you have been warned about this before, the rules are pretty strict here.

[Hulaabeo]

do not double post, i'm sure you have been warned about this before, the rules are pretty strict here.

Says the guy with -74 rep...

Anyways, really great chapter. Vamps are getting more mysterious as the story proceeds.

[Lord Stanley]

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Get everyone out of the city, now!” Edur released the comm. button and swore under his breath. He grabbed the jetcopter’s flight handle and twisted savagely, pulling the copter into a spin away from the Keuja’s reaching tentacles of darkness.

He should have expected that monster to attack Denzling before now. That huge monster was practically unstoppable, having destroyed the capital of Glukksonia and hundreds of Sligs and Mudokons only two days before. As a SKRUT, it was Edur’s duty to protect his city and his country.

He took a brief glance out the jetcopter windshield at the ground below. The Keuja was still five miles from Denzling, but already hundreds of Sligs tanks rolled forward to meet it, already firing their blaster cannons at the monster that would not die.

I could use Oner here, now, Edur realized grimly. Never realized how much that comedian meant to me, until he’s not around anymore.

Edur punched in the button to switch frequencies. “Commander D’aan, launch the missiles now!”

“Patience, SKRUT,” came the infuriatingly slow reply. “We’re prepping the launch now…”

“I can’t guarantee we’ll survive that long,” Edur snarled.

“Firing in ten seconds…”

Edur suddenly shook in his chair, as did the whole jetcopter, as its spin brought it within reach of the attacking Keuja’s tentacles. The monster sent a vast electric shock through the jetcopter. Suddenly every metal part in the vehicle – roughly 97% of it – was flowing with lightning, and the pain made him scream.

Then everything went black.

* * *

What is to become of a life with no purpose?

So thought Stranger, as he stood alone and gazed up at the shining sun above him.

He had no purpose for his life. Since the death of King Fragg and the destruction of Mantin City, he had wandered the empty wastelands of Glukkon land, wondering what was to become of a former bounty hunter who was too moral to kill for pay, yet none too moral to join with Abe in his quest to save the planet.

He looked down at the double-barreled crossbow strapped to his right wrist, at the Boombat and Stingbee hive placed there, and shook his head. The Keuja was a great threat, and he had helped Abe to slow it down, but still he felt no loyalty to the Mudokon or to anyone else. Was he destined to be a conflicted loner all his life?

A question without an answer.

His whole life had been a conflict, from his birth as a Steef, his life in hiding, his career as a bounty hunter, his vendetta against Sekto, his return to hunting, and now his quest for personality.

But what was he to do? Should he help Abe destroy the Keuja? Should he go after it himself?

Something struck him in the back of the head, wiping out all his thoughts in exchange for shocking pain.

* * *

[Scraby]

wow,amazing chapter,i think its vamps that hit the steef

[Lord Stanley]

A pretty shrewd observation, Scraby.

[Scraby]

sorry for that jumble of words,i was wrighting at 4 sites,they all asked me something and meanwhile i read your chapter and i swiftly commented...

[Hulaabeo]

Great chapter. I kinda want to know how this "Keuja" looks.

[Lord Stanley]

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jacolinn Peraux steered his hovercar across the hilly land of the Vamp Empire. A wealthy businessman, entrepreneur extraordinaire, he practically had cash flowing out of his ears—at least, in his imagination. Someday, when he arrived in Rivermouth, and he opened up his new ale house down there by the coast…

He glanced at a video display sign beside the road. “314 kilometers to Rivermouth,” he sighed, and shoved the energy pedal further.

Jacolinn switched his steering over to Cruise Control. He rested one hand on the wheel and shook his head, slumping lower in his Slig-skin chair. Maybe Mother was right after all, he thought in depression. When she said to stick to the family trade as an executioner, maybe I should have put more thought into it.

The Peraux line—a name literally meaning “one who decapitates”—had been executioners for decades. But Jacolinn had been an oddity in the family: he just couldn’t stand the sight of blood, or death, and couldn’t stand to hear any screams.

That was why he’d never become a big man straight away: he couldn’t stand to have slaves in his service, since they needed whipping to work and whipping made screams. He’d always had to scrounge out a living doing menial tasks for little pay, without the use of slaves.

But now, once I get this big break in Rivermouth…The thought of arriving in the big oceanside town made his spirits rise again.

As he retook control of his hovercar, he noticed there was a being standing on the side of the road. Jacolinn squinted ahead at the figure, and saw it was one of the Fangus species, standing by the road jerking his thumb in the signal for hitchhiking.

Jacolinn thought about his response for a moment. Since the only Fangus in the Vamp Empire were slaves, and since all slaves had tracker collars when they were sent out on errands like this, this slave would not dare to harm him. There was no real harm in making some other Vamp’s business run quicker, helping his slave get his chores done quicker.

He slowly pulled the hovercar to a stop with his passenger side to the Fangus. The slave was quite large for his species—not as tall as Jacolinn, but much broader across the chest and sporting the unsightly body bulges they named ‘muscle.’ His clothes were fairly ragged and his face tight, but Jacolinn could not blame a slave for being resentful of his position in life.

He tapped a button on the dashboard, and part of the hovercar wall dissipated, leaving a fair-sized opening for the Fangus to enter. “On an errand, slave?” he asked, as the Fangus seated himself.

The slave turned his head and looked at him, a hard look that made Jacolinn freeze in his seat momentarily. “I,” the Fangus growled, in a voice deeper and darker than evil itself, “am no slave.”

Jacolinn swallowed; there was something malicious in the Fangus’ voice. And if he wasn’t a slave…?

“Then,” he whispered, “who are you?”

“They call me Fangus Klot.”

* * *

Klot reached out, grabbed the Vamp by the neck, and—ignoring the shrieks of protest and shock—tossed the car’s owner out onto the grass through the open door on the passenger side. Klot scooted into the driver’s seat, closed the door with the tap of a button, and accelerated.

He did not smile at the humorous sounds of the Vamp shouting for him to stop and come back; he put the energy pedal to the metal and the hovercar sped across the highway as if it had a demon on its tail. He threw the wheel in a tight turn that turned the nose of the car back toward the Vamp capital city.

“Here I come, Emperor Fathead,” he whispered to himself.

But soon, his words would not just be a whisper; they would be a roar that all the Vamps heard, when he stood at the pinnacle of the emperor’s palace and threw their leader to his doom.

The thought brought the first smile of the month.

* * *

[Lord Stanley]

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Back in the crate. Once more at the mercy of their Vamp captors. Abe sat with his feet against the floor, his forehead resting on his knees and rattling on them with every bump.

He ignored the pain; he was thinking.

How had no one known about the Vamps’ expansions into this region for so long? What would happen to the others while they were prisoners? Would the Keuja continue to strike at their civilizations unchecked? Would the Vamps continue to spread, striking at the Mudokons and Glukkons with the element of surprise on their side?

“We have to get out of here,” Cloud said from across the crate, quite unnecessarily. “Any ideas? Seen any weaknesses in the Vamps’ designs?”

“Haven’t seen ’em long enough to judge that,” Oner said. “Now be quiet. I’m going to get some rest.”

“Those weapons the Vamps were carrying,” Crak said thoughtfully. “I think I’ve seen ’em somewhere afore…”

Cloud asked, “Really? Where?”

The old country Slig sighed, and produced a sound that was probably a shrug. “Dunno. I’ve lived so many years here on Oddworld, and been so many places in my younger days, it could be any number of strange places.”

“That’s not very helpful,” Abe growled.

“Well sorry, Mr. Grouch,” the old Slig snapped back. “I don’t see you coming up with any bright ideas, either.”

Abe banged a fist on the floor of their huge metal crate. “I’m working on it.”

“Then think faster,” Oner drawled, in an infuriatingly lazy tone. “Your arguing is disturbing my nap…”

Abe reached out one foot and roughly kicked the SKRUT in the back. “Shut up. I’m thinking.”

The SKRUT snarled loudly and jumped to his feet. “Don’t kick me!”

Abe grabbed at the wall of their transport crate and pulled himself to his full height. “Or what?”

“Or you’ll see why they made me a SKRUT,” Oner hissed.

All of Abe’s frustration spilled out in one yell. “Loser!”

Oner roared, “That does it!”

Abe laughed, and spat on his fists. “Bring it on, slimeback.”

Their ride came to a sudden halt, and the crate jerked to a stop, throwing Abe and Oner back down to the hard metal floor. Abe snarled at the sudden pain, and jumped back up to his feet, ignoring his new bruises, still ready to throw a punch—

“Stop fighting!” Cloud shouted, and Abe paused. “We’re all prisoners together—the real foes out here are the Keuja and the Vamps, not each other!”

Abe and Oner faced each other in the dark, each with fists raised. Oner had one foot drawn back, as if to kick, but he did not make a move yet.

“The boy’s right,” Crak agreed. “Fighting amongst ourselves won’t help.”

Abe lowered his fist, breathing heavily. Then, without a word, he sat back down on the floor of their metal cell and turned to face the wall.

He hated being wrong.

“Wisdom from the mouths of outsiders,” Oner snorted, and did likewise.

Abe said nothing, even as the back of the crate opened, and the Vamps shouted for them to exit their cell. He simply obeyed the command without pause, and dropped out onto the cobblestone street of the Vamp town.

* * *

[Scraby]

nice chapters ,hm i amagined that fight that its gonna be a bumpy ride,till the cell stopped

[Lord Stanley]

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

His stay in the world of unconsciousness did not last very long; only seconds after the Keuja shocked his copter’s systems into oblivion, the SKRUT Edur came back to the world of the living, only to feel the Keuja’s tentacle whipcrack and open, throwing the jetcopter away like trash.

Edur closed his eyes and silently waited for the end to come, for his jetcopter to plow into the ground and for his body to deteriorate in a blinding conflagration. At least no one could say he hadn’t gone out with a bang; it just would have been fitting if Oner was here with him—

He abstractly wondered how he’d had that much time to think about it.

He blinked open his eyes just for a second—the ground was only a few inches past the hood of his ’copter—

But the odd thing was, he wasn’t plummeting any more. Something was holding up his jetcopter, and had done so without any vigorous stop.

Edur didn’t waste any time wondering about it; he had always been a Slig of action. Instead, he grabbed his laser rifle and ran for the bay doors, growling, “And the special ops guy lives to fight another five minutes…”

He slammed hard on the release button for one of the ’copter bay doors, but the jetcopter had already lost so many of its engine functions that nothing at all happened. With a grunt, Edur lifted his weapon and switched it over to Anti-Armament fire, backing into the cockpit hallway as he took aim at the door.

He squeezed the trigger, and the miniature missile blasted the bay door. His helmet’s goggles dimmed automatically at the flare of white light, as the blast ripped away the door and left an opening. Without waiting, he dove through the gaping hole, rolled in the grass, and came up with rifle to his shoulder.

The Keuja was nearly half a mile away now; Edur hadn’t realized his tumbling flight in the broken jectopter had carried him that far. The monster continued its slow, destructive march toward Denzling, not realizing that Edur was still alive.

And then Edur saw the thing holding up his jetcopter, and lowered his rifle. “What…?”

It was a huge Mudokon, but he did not seem to be wholly alive. His exposed skin seemed to ripple and fade in and out between gray and transparent, and the tattered remnants of his toga seemed insubstantial. Besides, there was the fact he was holding up the entire jetcopter just with his two hands…

“What are you?” Edur growled, once again raising his weapon.

The fadey-outey Mudokon gave a great heave, straightening both arms, and the jetcopter spun away through the air, flying almost a hundred feet by the strength of the Mudokon’s push alone, before it exploded, sending pieces of metal widespread.

Edur severely hoped this thing—whatever it was and whatever it would claim to be—was on their side.

The Mudokon turned to face him, and it was only then Edur realized just how tall it was. It towered above all other Mudokons, probably eight feet or higher, and the way its biceps rippled when it flexed its fingers showed Edur its muscles.

Then he could see its face, and he grimaced. Its face—if you could call it a face at all—was the oddest part: for an instant, the skin would fade to reveal a blue-grey skull, then suddenly fade back into pale gray skin. Its nose was most disconcerting, since it kept fading between an actual nose, and two gaping nasal cavities in its skull.

When it spoke, its voice sounded like the crackling of bones. “I am the Ninth Chieftain.”

Once before, Edur had heard the old Mudokon legend of the Ninth Chieftain, the one that had missed out on the blessings and received a curse instead: the curse of immortality, never truly alive, never able to die, only able to fade away for certain periods of time, imbued with great powers. Nothing was said to be able to stop the Ninth Chieftain once he went on a rampage, because nothing could kill him.

Edur felt a chill run up his spine. “Are you on our side,” he said softly, “or the Keuja’s?”

The Ninth Chieftain laughed, a sound like the echo of a stone falling into a well. “I am the enemy of industrialists, Glukkons and Sligs.”

Edur felt his breath catch in his throat. This thing was going to attack him, and once he turned his gaze upon the whole industrialist town mere miles away, the legend would ally with the Keuja. Everything was about to fall to pieces in mere seconds.

“But I have been summoned.” The ghastly Mudokon raised his face to the sky. “I am to destroy the Keuja…or die trying.”

Laughing horribly, the Ninth Chieftain slowly walked toward the Keuja. Edur shook his head and breathed out slowly, wondering if all the legends of Oddworld were all to be released at once.

* * *

[Scraby]

nice work plus rep,i like the name, the ninth chiefthain sounds mistical

[Lord Stanley]

I got the Ninth Chieftain from Shaman's fanfic "The Old Kingdom," but I based the Chieftain's overall design on the King of the Dead from Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.

[Scraby]

yep,i knew it was something that i saw before but i couldnt remember,hm i at first thought he was a big mudokon just with gray skin,without all of the curses,but at wery first i thought it was a mudokon statue,afther i thought it was a summoned collosus,afther i thought it was a grey mud,afther that i thought its a grey mud that has a face with changes,a bit live,a bit dead

[Lord Stanley]

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Abe tried the bars for what seemed like the twentieth time. There was no mistake about it: the Vamps made their metal with brilliance beyond anything the Glukkons had ever designed. Even after using Cloud’s strength, Oner’s lockpick techniques, and Abe’s detailed search for weaknesses, the bars stood just as strong as ever.

He turned away from the prison bars. Crak and Cloud sat cross-legged on the floor of the cell, playing mind games with each other out of lack of things to do. Oner lay curled up on the floor, sleeping.

Who would’ve thought that I’d ever get myself stuck in the same cell with three Sligs, in a prison run by an enemy worse than the Keuja? That was his conclusion, that the Vamps were worse than the mighty monster. There were thousands of the Vamps – because, surely, there were other towns – and their efficiency of work was plain to see.

Their intent was obviously hostile. They seemed to know a bit about Mudokons and Sligs, since they’d recognized the power of Abe’s chant before he could release the possession orb, but no one had ever known about the Vamps before now.

At least, no one had returned alive to tell the tale…

A door hissed open behind him, prompting him to turn. Crak and Cloud stopped talking, and Oner grunted, “Wha…?”

Abe put on his grimmest face for the displeasure of the armored Vamp guards that marched into the hallway. Their armor was highly polished and a dark red hue, their helmets giving a grim demeanor, though not so grim as the odd-looking pain-inducing rifles they carried.

“I was in prison, and you visited me,” Oner quoted.

Behind the guards came another Vamp.

Abe could tell straightaway that this was no ordinary Vamp. This one was dressed in long, flowing robes made of fine materials Abe could not identify, and though he carried no weapon, the sheer arrogance in his face told the Mudokon that the being was cruel and confident in his position as overlord.

“I am Emperor Essir of the Vamp Empire,” the newcomer said, in his accented voice, a growling voice that set Abe’s hairless spine tingling. “Who are you?”

“Why should we tell you?” Abe asked.

Essir made a dismissive signal to his guards; one of them raised and fired his weapon in one swift movement. Abe ducked out of the way, but the flash of white energy was not aimed at him. It struck Cloud, throwing the young Slig flat on his back. The Slig moaned in pain, the odd energy coursing up his metal-enhanced frame, sending him into spasms.

“That is why you should tell me,” Essir replied coldly. “More insolence from you, and I will order my guards to shoot him again…though this next time, it will be set to Kill.”

Abe set his mouth in a frown. “If I tell you about us…you’ll tell us about yourself and your race.”

“I do not make bargains with prisoners.”

“We’re your key to conquering the northern hemisphere,” Abe said, guessing at the emperor’s intentions. “You need to keep at least some of us alive.”

The emperor raised the space just above his right eye. “You do not care about your companions?”

“They have their purpose.”

“Thanks a lot,” Oner grumbled. “And I thought we were friends, stitchlips.”

Essir looked thoughtful. “Perhaps a trade-off can be arranged, though it will do you little good. You will all be executed as soon as I have extracted the information I need. If revealing a little about ourselves is what it takes to get this information out of you peacefully, then let it be so.”

The emperor turned and exited the prison hallway, leaving Abe feeling grimmer than before.

* * *

[Hulaabeo]

Vamp bastards... Too bad Slusk the Mudokon isn't there to rip their throats out! Treating a mudokon like that is dispicable! Nice chapters anyways.

[Lord Stanley]

CHAPTER TWENTY

Klot had encountered a problem.

Not only was his stolen car nearly out of fuel; since he was a fugitive from the government who had supposedly been killed some days ago, he had no license, and slaves were not permitted to purchase fuel anyway. Technically, he wasn’t a slave, but all Fanguses were regarded as slaves in the Vamp Empire.

This could be a…problem, he thought.

Then he saw something up ahead. It looked like…another vehicle. He recognized it as a large double-decker transport car, pulling behind it one of the enormous metal carrying crates the Vamps used for transporting slaves.

His eyes narrowed, and his hands clamped tighter around the wheel. Never again will I stand and watch as slaves are put under the thumbs of the Vamps, he swore. Never again.

He cast his brain to work on the problem. He would be alongside the truck in approximately ten seconds, and he had no gun, his car was practically out of fuel, and there would be Vamps with Inriks in the cockpit. The outside of the carrying crate would be protected by a shield.

As the car sputtered and began to slow as it ran out of fuel intake, Klot gave way to an uncharacteristic spasm of emotion, in the form of banging his fist on the steering wheel.

An unforeseen consequence of his action was that the steering wheel snapped off and fell into his lap, and the car swung sideways, cutting across the path of the truck as it came to a halt. He caught a brief glimpse of the Vamps in the cockpit of the truck, their eyes widening in shock at his unexpected spin.

He was four seconds away from impact.

Klot turned, slapped the button to de-energize the driver’s door, and leapt out. He hit the dirt alongside the road in a somersault and came back up to his feet, but before he could turn around, he heard a most unOddworldly crunch as metal hit metal. He thought he’d heard a scream.

When he completed his turn, it was to see the truck buried up to its windshield in his car, completely crushing his former vehicle. One of the Vamp drivers was pinned against the back of the cab by a heap of rubble, the other was already throwing open the door and jumping out, Inrik in hand.

Klot wished he had a gun. He spat on the ground; for this job, his fists would just have to do.

The Vamp saw him, and his eyes widened in amazement and disbelief. “Klot? Fangus Klot! You’re dead!”

Klot took advantage of his surprise to dive forward, catching the Vamp around his skinny ankles. The guard screeched and fell forward, and as he came within range, Klot swung up one foot, bashing the Vamp in the face. The guard spun a full 140 degrees in the air and came down on his back. When he did, Klot had one fist raised, and brought it down full in the Vamp’s neck.

There was an audible crack, and the guard lay still.

Klot picked up the Inrik and moved toward the carrying crate.

* * *

[Hulaabeo]

Woot! Go Fangus! But just don't harm the prisoners will ya?

[Scraby]

nice chapter,show em vamps fangus!