The Forgotten Child of Skarria

[Sal the Mudokon]

The room was completely dark, save for one small lamp hanging from what appeared to be an infinitely high ceiling. When it came to dimensions, though, it was barely enough for Prong and his acquaintances to move freely in. It was this kind of engenius architecture that made the Koondak Cartel the super-power that it was.
General Mog stood silent, his slig assistant at his side, sifting through papers. Prong thought the bitch-slig's name might have been Ulik, or something like that. Prong was your typical slig, and like most of his kind, he wasn't always expected to know such complicated bits of information like that of which pertains to the names of members of his own species, or his superiors, or even himself, on certain days.
Mog signalled for Ulik (supposing that this, in fact, was his name) to hand the files to Prong. Prong leaned out and grabbed them, using as little energy as he could (once again, in the general slig fashion).
They were files of the usual type: mission information, geographical analysis, environmental dangers/warnings... the same old kind of shit that Prong would once again refuse to even skim over.
"Now check 'em out! You'll need 'em!" said Mog in his gruff voice, tripping over each word as he met it.
"Yeah, yeah..." replied Prong in his usual smart-ass tone. He pulled a lever next to him, signalling a large steal door to retire and fill the room with blinding light. The beams recieved Prong as he set out on foot to scan the area beyond and gather his team.
The General knew someone had to help get rid of the disturbances in the factory. He figured he'd start with someone expendable.

[Sal the Mudokon]

The light was almost blinding to the nocturnal slig. It was the last thing he saw before the bullet pierced his brain.
There lay Prong for nine weeks before anyone attempted to recover his body, and then, only for parts.

The vykkers, not the slig-pants companies, benefitted the most from his contribution.


THE END