Freedom Fighters Strikes Back!!!!
Presenting:
Revival of the Return of Freedom Fighters!
the long-awaited chapter 14 is here! 2 1/2 pages in Word make this my longest chaoter yet. It isn't especially fats-moving or action-packed, yet does fill in a few gaps since time moved on a year from when it started. Log, not exactly a great chapter, but a scene-setter with a bit of action, and focus on the characters' thoughts and day-o-day lives.
Chapter 14: This is Chapter 14
Larry dragged himself up of his bunk as he heard the door flung open, he hadn’t been able to sleep anyway. He, and the other mudokons, rarely slept anyway, especially considering how hard they were worked now. His body felt cold- a lasting side-effect of ‘Meat-Freez’ as it had been dubbed. He shuffled out of the door noticing that it was Arthur who had woken them. He looked at the Slig he had once nearly been able to call a friend, almost trying to look into Arthur’s soul. Arthur looked away uneasily and pushed him on, hurrying the mudokons out and off to work.
Pull the lever. Wait for the meat to drop onto the conveyor belt. Pull the second lever, moving it along the conveyor belt for another mudokon to move on. Repeat. Larry was sick of it. Over 22 out of 25 hours a day spent performing one action. Today he hadn’t even got breakfast; another mudokon had taken his bowl from him before he could even start to eat.
‘They still hate me for what happened last year.’ Larry thought, miserably. Every day he’d come close to returning to his depression, indeed there had been points last year when he had. He’d never attempted suicide though; his resolve had always held just enough to prevent that. ‘But maybe death would be a release.’ Larry thought again, and again had to shake himself out of his misery by returning to his job- He’d pulled the lever for the meat chute several times without moving the conveyor belt on. Meat was piling up and the others on his station were moaning already. He hurried to pull the other lever, trying to let the others catch up, repeating “Sorry, sorry!” as he did so.
Trevor, a few sections along from Larry, was also deep in thought. Rather than being depressed however, Trevor was thinking about a mixture of Larry and Arthur. Never did a day pass when he didn’t think about one or both of the two- Concern for Larry’s emotional state and whether he would ever be able to try for freedom again, and for Arthur, he was trying to find a way to widen the chink he’s spotted nearly as soon as Arthur changed.
‘Arthur never seemed quite normal about his new attitude. There seems something forced about it, part of it is real hate and desire to fit in, but there’s also something I can’t put my finger on. As though he doesn’t completely resent us. I’ll have to try and get to him; back when he was ‘with’ us we always had a hope of freedom, what with having a guy on the inside more or less.’Trevor finished his musings, focusing on the task at hand. Only 4½ more hours until lunch.
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Max hauled another crate up onto the back of the truck, watched by an armed guard constantly. His strength was put to use here- lifting heavy food products in crates onto the truck, saving Slig work and saving the use of more mudokons. His anger motivated him, yet he would never go for the guard. Max knew the Slig would pop a clip of bullets in him if he so much as looked at him wrong.
‘I may be hot-headed, but I ain’t stupid. I know where to stop.’ Max thought to himself, straining and lifting another crate onto the truck. He’d do this for 20 hours, and then work another 2 hours feeding the scrabs, trusted to be able to handle them. He was hungrier than usual today though, having had little food, so wasn’t sure how he’d cope when it came to his end-of-day routine. 2 hours until the 15 minute lunch break.
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Jeff scrubbed away, working his rear end off cleaning the bloodied floor of the meat storage room. He watched another chunk of meat, this time seemingly Elum, drop through the trapdoor, and watched as another pair of mudokons dragged a slab o meat over the trapdoor for the next drop.
“Stop slackin’” Thwack!
The slig keeping guard over his area, who was standing next to him as it was a convenient position, raised his club again. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Another three blows. Jeff’s back was screaming in pain, as was his head. He kept submissive and returned to scrubbing, before shuffling on to another part of the floor.
“Wait! I wan’ this floor so clean I can see my magazine pics in it an’ this ain’t good enough.” The Slig screeched at him. Not wanting it to be any worse, Jeff shuffled back and cleaned the same spot again. When worked like this a job that should take 1 hour could take 5, which got him in trouble for not working enough.
‘Stupid Slig, being awkward just to make things worse for me.’ Jeff thought, his bead necklace rattling as he dipped his sponge back into the soap bucket.
The horn blew, signifying a 15 minute lunch break. Jeff got up to go, before being shoed back down by his guard.
“Were do yew think yer goin’? I want that floor clean!” His guard honked.
Jeff was used to being picked on by the Sligs; his eccentric personality was often the butt of physical or verbal abuse.
“Getting’ my lunch.” Jeff answered, getting up to go again.
Another shove back down, and a blow from the gun. “Don’ backtalk me mud!” The Slig snarled.
“Lemme go for my lunch!” Jeff retorted.
“Yeh’ve brought this on yerself.” The Slig answered, before beginning to lay into him with his gun.
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“Where’s Jeff?” Was the first thing leaving Trevor’s mouth after he got his gruel and sat with the other 2.
“Hey yeah, he’s usually here quite early, cause he’s stationed near the entrance.” Answered Larry.
“Think something’s up?”
“If there is, I’ll sort it out.” Max snarled.
Trevor shook his head “I have a better idea,” he gestured to a group of Sligs “Arthur.”
“Yeah, get us another beating why don’t you. He. Has. Changed, you need to get that Trev.” Larry responded sarcastically, taking another mouthful of gruel.
“Look, I know you’ve noticed it about him too-something seems wrong.” Trevor got up and walked over to Arthur, who was talking casually to another Slig.
“Hey Arthur, can I speak for a minute.” Trevor asked.
Arthur turned, laughed and clouted Trevor “What? Talk ter me? Spit it out quick mud, I don’ wanna hear yer life story.”
“Well, my friend Jeff hasn’t showed up for lunch. He should’ve been here ages ago, and it’s nearly end of lunch. I think he might be getting beat up.” Trevor spoke bluntly yet carefully, giving the facts yet not asking for help.
Arthur’s eyes flashed with something other than sarcasm and hate, before returning to normal “And what? You want me to go watch it? Sure, a mud beating sounds fun.” Arthur shuffled off towards where he knew Jeff’s station t be, and Trevor, Larry then Max followed, the former looking satisfied, the latter 2 curious as to what Trevor was up to.
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Arthur entered the room to see a Slig beating the life out of a bruised and frightened Jeff.
“Scrub” Scrub! If you don’t start workin’ I’ll just club harder!” The Slig raged, forcing Jeff to clean the floor as he beat him.
Max started, but the other two held him back
“Lemme see what Arthur does.” Whispered Trevor.
Arthur started as well, but then stopped and strode up behind the Slig, grabbing the club as he raised it and yanking it off him.
“What’re you doing?” He asked.
The Slig looked confused, snarling back “Beatin’ a mud.” He said casually.
“No yer not, not like this while I’m here, the mudokons looked on hopeful, only for their hopes to be dashed.
“That’s not the easiest way to beat a mud like this guy. This is.”
And with that, Arthur started laying into Jeff, over and over, hard, quick, smooth, back and forth, overhead and backhand sings with the club, pounding Jeff’s bare body time after time.
Trevor, Max and Larry looked on, horrified.
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Dun dun dun! Semi-cliffhanger, something I seem to do a lot. So, thoughts on the chapter, rage for me not upating for 2 months, views on where the fic is going, tips? regardless of any fo the above, please my loyal readers (You know who you are) reply!
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Fuzzle Guy: Apart from going swimming I've never been more wet in my life than when I went to see Take That.
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