Ben & Dee answer things

“This is simply outrageous!”

A bit of welcome calm. A smell of tobacco. A vision of Sam, alive and unharmed, perhaps even smiling above him. Maybe it was too much to ask for. Lure’s consciousness waded painfully through thick layers of mist, while he still couldn’t open his eyes. There was an unpleasant atmosphere of discord nearby, led by Gottlieb’s thundering angry voice.

“You have no right!”

“As it happens I have, my dear friend. And to be perfectly accurate, it seems to me that you are reversing the roles here. You have committed an offence, you are illegal. And you’re in trouble.”

This high pitched tone which gave him a headache. The Vykker. He was there too.

“I bought this female honestly!”

“Oh really? After you claimed that there was no Queen in your factory? Interesting.”

A Queen. To hell with the Queens! To hell with all these stories, let them deal with it! If they wanted a Queen, let them find another one! He didn’t need a Queen. He just needed Sam.

“Because I knew that you would try to take her away from me by some trick! That’s what you scientific butchers are like! As soon as a creature falls into your hands, you cut it to pieces! With me, she will be much more useful to our society!”

“How touching, you are going to make me weep.”

Sam. Where was Sam?

“It just takes a look at what you are doing right now!”

What was going on right now?

“What I do is necessary. Besides, I would appreciate being able to concentrate! In the meantime, I suggest you go get me the documents.”

“The… the documents?”

“The ones that certify that you have indeed purchased this rare specimen, of course. We can potentially clear up this misunderstanding if we have them in front of us. If not…”

“B-but…”

“Now shut up and get out! This is a delicate operation for Odd’s sake!”

Lure’s features tightened as the sounds of Gottlieb’s small footsteps hurried away, while the Glukkon ferociously belched at a Slig - hopefully it was that 988 scumbag - to go get those damn documents that probably didn’t exist. At least not authentic ones. Anyway, the deception would soon be discovered, and Gottlieb would certainly have to pay a certain price, serves him right! As for Sam…

“Sam…”

He wasn’t sure he could have uttered a single sound, but he felt his lips move on their own to form her name. He also felt his eyelids flutter and was instantly tempted to close them tightly. There must have been an aggressive white light source not far from him, and its ephemeral power over his pupils was enough to give the Slig an awful headache. Yet he struggled to keep his eyes open, tried to clear his vision as best he could. He saw extremely blurred and instantly understood that his face was uncovered. When he took a deep breath, he was struck by the mixture of chemical, antiseptic and disinfectant smells, but also by a more ferrous scent that was particularly familiar. A scent that no doubt came from the imprecise dark red stain a little further away.

“Urgh…”

Above the red stain, something was moving, a purple thing whose high-pitched voice warned him.

“I said silence!”

Lure grunted and shook his head. As there was no other answer, he deduced that Gottlieb had indeed left, and that he had remained alone with the Vykker. But, while he beat more strongly of the eyelids, he perceived something else. As a feminine cry muffled by a gag.

“Hold her still!” the Vykker commanded.

At his words, several figures clustered further around the doctor, the red stain, and what appeared to be a prone body. Lure stared at the scene for a very long time, perfectly still and unable to breathe.  It wasn’t true, right? They couldn’t…

“S…Sam?”

For a split second, two round yellow disks turned toward him, the same disks that had greeted him when he’d woken up from his stay in the labs. Her eyes. Her big yellow eyes that were turned towards him at this very moment.

Then the Vykker had to make a movement and the eyes disappeared, tightly closed, while a new muzzled scream filled the space.

“Yeah yeah well okay, hang in there” the doctor’s insensitive voice mumbled with boredom. “Almost over.”

In a flash, Lure grasped the whole scene with a clarity that had nothing to do with his poor vision. Sam was lying a few steps away from him, held back on all sides by the troop of interns clustered around her. The smell of blood was coming directly from her stomach on which the Vykker was leaning, and this bastard was operating on her without anaesthetic! The Slig would have jumped to his feet if he could, but he had no pants either and was slammed against a cold surface.

“What are you doing?!”

He could still hear the fragments of her muffled cries.

“Can’t you tell?” the irritated Vykker sighed. “I am proceeding to heal the internal damage! Now let me work, Slig!”

“Give her painkillers!”

“What for? I’m almost done. And besides, if you suffer it means you’re not dead. Needle!”

“You bastard! I’ll kill you, you’ll…!”

He took a blow in the temple. The intern who was holding him had just slapped him across the face with a pair of monumental blows. It would probably leave big scratch marks.

“No need to get upset, code 583. I don’t know what alienation you have gone through to nourish such unnatural devotion, but you will soon be free of it, don’t worry. Still, how strange… perhaps there was a defect in the restriction phase of cerebral development? Highly improbable that said, we are always careful, but the probabilities are never null… or maybe a problem occurred in the conditioning? But then why an isolated case? Unless it is simply…”

The scientist continued to mutter to himself about incomprehensible hypotheses, but Lure wasn’t listening to him anymore. He tried to call Sam, to tell her to hang in there and that everything would work out, that they would all pay for it in the end. But every time he opened his mouth, the long, bony fingers of the interns struck him, forcing him to swallow his words.

“Aaaaand done!” the scientist exclaimed triumphantly as he straightened up suddenly. “Now, now, now, stop your whining now, you’re out of danger.”

In a complete lack of compassion, he turned away from the soon-to-be Mudokon Queen, muttering about the ingratitude and indignity of patients. Lure, obsessed with Asameera’s condition, failed to notice the Vykker approaching him.

“Well!” the high-pitched voice exclaimed nearby, startling the Slig. “Now it’s our turn! I hope you didn’t hurt him too much, I still need him alive for now.”

The interns, with their vertical mouths sewn shut, could not speak of course, but the plaintive intonation they put into their muffled protests reflected their eagerness to reassure their superior not to suffer any unwanted repercussions. Some stepped aside to give space to the Vykker while others tightened their bony fingers around Lure. The Slig hated this feeling. He glared at the purple spot with his blind eyes.

“Still need me alive for what?”

There was no answer, only a small unpleasant sound that translated a contrite grimace from the Vykker, speaking volumes about his disgust.

“Urgh! I had forgotten how horrible a Slig’s face could be!”

“Did you look at yourself, you chewing gum face?”

Although his vision was still blurred, Lure thought he actually saw a devilish grin take shape on the scientist’s face. Then immediately afterwards, he felt the sharp claws pressing on a spot on his head, harder and harder. There was no pain, but Lure was suddenly overcome by a nameless terror out of nowhere. He began to scream helplessly, his heart pounding as the panic continued to eat away at him.

“Hmm… it’s not like I can check all the areas right away, but it’s a good start. The opposite would have been surprising, we don’t release errors into the wild after all.”

The fingers left Lure’s head and the Slig gasped loudly, still shaking with violent spasms despite the retreating fear.

“W-w-what was that?” he stammered. “What have you done to me?”

“A simple check” the Vykker replied with a shrug but some excitement in his voice. “You see, our conglomerate gives us permission and opportunity to study the brains of every creature in Oddworld, as well as their development. You can’t imagine all the things we’re able to do through research, it’s so exciting!”

Around Lure, several interns exchanged exasperated looks and shook their heads, tired in advance of the presentation their superior was about to launch into, but the Slig paid no attention.

“Research!” the Vykker repeated with emphasis. “The identification of the different brain areas! The restriction of some of these zones! The amplification of others! Just like this one!” he added joyfully while pressing briefly on the same precise point of the tip of his claw, making Lure jump in fright. “The isolation and amplification of the fear center, inducing increased submission! Inhibition of free will! Restriction of the ability to make decisions! Inferiority complex induced at an early age! So many possibilities! And all this thanks to research and these inventions, these technological wonders, these helmets that we put on you from the moment you are born!”

“T-these.. these what?”

“The famous helmets that prevent your correct brain development, of course! Oh but you can’t remember of course, how silly of me! Still, what a pity, it’s your very first accessory after all, with your leg inhibitors! But not everyone can be as sentimental as me…”

“Wh… Wh… WHAT?!”

The feeling of panic returned, but this time Lure knew exactly why. Preventing brain development? Leg inhibitors? No, that didn’t make sense, did it? Sligs were naturally born without legs, weren’t they? That was the reason they were provided with prostheses, wasn’t it? In order for them be able to… live in this world and contribute… to the smooth running… of the…

“…Magog Cartel…” the Slig finished aloud, unwittingly reciting one of the many phrases engraved in his mind.

Not far, the Vykker emitted a satisfied sound.

“That’s good, you’ve learned your lesson well” he complimented ironically. “So your dysfunction isn’t from conditioning either, apparently. Could it simply be a problem of proximity to another specimen?”

Another specimen… Asameera. What had Asameera said recently?

They dried up the lakes.

His heart began to beat faster and faster.

You had no choice.

Asphyxiation seizes him.

Mechanics, robotics, technology…… they made sure you needed it.

All that time. All those years spent wallowing in his dependence on robotics, all those moments celebrating this chance he had to stand on his own two feet, thanks to technology, thanks to the Cartel… Everything he thought he had… Everything he thought he knew…

“Lies…”

He knew the Cartel leaders were not chivalrous, and Sam had opened his eyes wider. But even after all this, he had never questioned his pathetic form and his difficulty in thinking, nor even his terrible headaches when he’d tried to show Sam simple sympathy. Maybe he should have also questioned his near-zero vision, or even his stunted lungs? He thought it was all natural and there was nothing he could do about it. He never imagined that such manipulation was at work, that he and all the other Sligs were twisted, controlled, from the very beginning to the very end of their lives.

“Y-y-you…! Lies!”

Too much! It was too much! Technology had brought them nothing! On the contrary, it had stolen everything from them! His world was collapsing, shattering, reduced to dust by this sudden realization, this terrible truth.

The only person who had always been honest and kind to him, the only person he could still believe in, was Sam.

Lure suddenly pulled on his arms with a roar, managed to get out of the grip under the effect of surprise and his valid fist split the air randomly in front of him. He felt it hit its target as the Vykker recoiled with a cry of pain under the impact that sounded terribly satisfying. The Slig jumped to the cold ground, rolled and crawled as fast as he could towards the future Mudokon Queen.

“Sam! You hear me Sam?!”

His hand grabbed the sheet she was lying on, he saw her big yellow eyes turn towards him and even thought he heard the name she had given him.

“Sam! You have to escape you hear! You have to escape from here!”

He knew she couldn’t move, he knew she had never intended to break her promise to Gottlieb. But she had to! Soon she would no longer belong to Gottlieb, soon all hope of escape would be gone!

The bony fingers of the Interns were already on him again.

“Sam! I will set you free Sam! Do you hear me?! Don’t listen to their…”

He received a blow to the back of the head, so hard that his bony eyebrow collided with the ground with a thud. A rain of blows fell on him but Lure refused to scream. Then the Vykker’s claws grabbed his skull again and he threw his head back as terror howled for him.

“Enough!” the furious scientist shouted. “Let’s get it over with!”

The Interns straightened him up in front of the purple color that accentuated the pressure on the terrorized Slig’s head.

“I’m done with you! You’re going to tell me what I want to know and then I’ll dismember you, dissect you, bone you, gut you and feed your foul-smelling remains to the lab Ratz!”

The tips of the claws pierced Lure’s skin.

“How did you escape from Site S? Speak up! Obey!”

“G-g-go fuck yersAAAAAAAAH!”

“I can do this for a long time without getting tired, you know? I know the precise points to tickle! But you, how long do you think you can resist? Do us a favor and spit it out!”

Lure would have gladly spat directly in his face if he could. He forced himself not to say anything, not to betray Sam.

“P-p-please! Stop thAAAAAAAH! MOMMY!”

He could allow himself to beg, to give up his dignity and put on his eternal costume of pathetic creature. He could call out to his terrible genitress for help. But twisted or not, controlled or not, he would NOT betray Sam!

“Uh, am I interrupting something?”

The Vykker looked up at the voice without releasing the pressure.

“What?!”

“Uh… Sir, Mr. Gottlieb is waiting for you in his office with the documents!”

There was a moment of silence during which only Lure’s whimpers could be heard. Then the scientist grunted and released his grip.

“How lucky you are, you’ll be able to think about this for a while. But you know what awaits you! You two, stay here and keep an eye on him! The rest of you, with me! And take her with us!”

Lure didn’t even answer, too busy catching his breath. He was barely aware of the departure of the Vykker and most of his entourage, and of the blurred figure of Sam floating past him on a stretcher of some sort. He tried to say her name, to struggle against the only two remaining interns, but the shaking prevented him from doing so.

“My guys will take you to him, sir! As for me, I’ll stay here for a bit.”

A Slig. It was a Slig’s voice.

“Whatever!”

That was the last time Lure heard the Vykker before he left. Mechanical pants whirring echoed as the other Slig got closer, then there was the crashing sound of a heavy door locking.

“Well, now we can finally talk, you and me!”

The footsteps came closer again and a shadow stood before him. Lure raised his head and winced in a vain attempt to clear his vision. Of course he could not identify the newcomer, but he had a bad feeling, which was confirmed soon enough when he heard the sound of a rifle being cocked. On either side of him, the two interns uttered muffled reproaches.

“Relax guys, I’m not going to kill him.”

The Slig had barely finished sneering when a deafening bang sounded nearby, then another. Lure stood still, eyes wide, trying to figure out where he had been shot and why the pain wasn’t coming. He simply felt his arms convulse. In a reflex, he looked in turn at the two interns who loosened their grip on him before collapsing inertly to the ground, each with a bullet in the head.

“What the…”

He didn’t have time to dwell on his surprise because the Slig in front of him slammed something directly into his muzzle.

“Hurry up, put this on!” the Slig urged.

Lure complied automatically and finished putting the equipment over his face, quickly realizing that it was a breathing mask. Once the respirator was properly adjusted, he blinked again and stared into the face of his savior, his sight restored. The Slig’s face was uncovered, as was his a moment earlier. The mask he was wearing now must be his. A quick glance informed him of the identity of his colleague and he spluttered.

“988?!”

The Slig did not answer. Baffled, Lure stared at him in confusion for endless seconds. The more he watched him, the more he understood that something was definitely wrong. He couldn’t say how or why, but it was as if 988 wasn’t really there.

“You’re done?”

“Uh… Y-yeah?”

It was 988’s voice and tone, but Lure didn’t recognize his way of speaking either.

“Perfect. Now get his equipment.”

“His equipment?”

988 put the rifle down in front of him and began to remove his mechanical prostheses.

“I mean ’my’ equipment. Come on, hurry! We don’t have much time.”

As Lure passed 988’s pants without feeling the euphoria of having legs again, he watched him from the corner of his eye.

“Who are you really?” he asked.

‘988’, now crawling on the ground in his natural state, looked up at him with a raised eyebrow arch.

“Sam?” Lure tried in a small voice.

“Er, no. But you’ve pretty much got the hang of it. We’ll do the introductions later if you don’t mind. I’m going to need to get in here, so you’re going to have to unlock the door and then we gonna have to get the heck out of here. On my signal…”

Lure didn’t even have time to retort when 988 almost shouted:

“Now!”

Then, with an unpleasant gurgle, 988’s body convulsed as an invisible force threw him backwards, as if he had just been hit very hard, before collapsing unconscious. Lure cringed, unable to look away. What had just happened?

Bam bam bam!

The successive banging against the door startled him. The Slig automatically moved towards it with a tentative step.

“For Odd’s sake, hurry up I said!” a voice resounded from the other side.

Lure pushed the lock and the door flew open. A figure entered briskly and closed the door right after.

“What took you so long?”

“I… I don’t know…” Lure mumbled without really paying attention to what he was saying himself.

Before him stood a Mudokon. But not an ordinary Mudokon, he was definitely not a slave. He wore a stylized tribal mask, made of different woods, bones and teeth, and was clothed in skins. His bare chest was covered with tattoos and paintings, and a wild aura surrounded him.

“It doesn’t matter” the Mudokon retorted. “We must leave at once!”

He clasped his hands together and began to recite an incantation, the same one Sam chanted to meditate or summon bird portals. The Slig’s heart began to beat faster as the fluttering of wings filled the room.

“Let’s go” the shaman said, pointing to the formed portal of light with an imperious gesture.

Lure took a step toward it before pulling back.

“What about Sam? Asameera?”

The shaman sighed heavily.

“No time. It’s not the right moment.”

Lure took several steps back before straightening up and shaking his head.

“Look buddy, I appreciate you saving my ass, but I’m not going through that gate without her. If you’re scared, then go ahead, and close the portal if you want. I’m going after her.”

He turned toward the door, but the shaman already stood in front of it, arms crossed over his chest. Lure felt his features contort under his mask and he raised 988’s weapon to the Mudokon.

“I don’t want to kill you buddy, but you’re going to get your ass out of my way and I’m going to get her, now!”

The shaman sighed for the second time, shaking his head.

“No. Not now. You will fail.”

Lure pulled the trigger, not caring about the noise of the detonation. The bullet lodged in the wall behind the Mudokon, who didn’t budge an inch.

“Out of my way!” Lure yelled, advancing on him.

The native raised a hand set with ancient rings towards him.

“I didn’t want to do that, at least not right away.”

There was a crackle in the air and Lure, instinctively sensing the danger, made a move to dodge. He was not fast enough, however, and he was hit in the head by the electric charge that shot from the shaman’s fingers. His body spasmed from the shock that continued to assault him, Lure dropped the gun and fell to his knees. Just before he slipped into unconsciousness once again, the Slig heard the shaman’s last words.

“You will go get her, yes. When you wake up. At the right time.”

ooOoo

We’re approaching the end… two more chapters left if I did things right.

First: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/asameera/691287639162290176?source=share

Previous: https://at.tumblr.com/asameera/oddworld-code-583-chapter-13-with-me/91vaa55gfheu

[[Warning: The following is a short but morbid description of Conar and Slim taking parts off their carnivorous attacker.]]

(Only through Boosty!)

“…Just get down here, will ya?”

But Slim didn’t respond, and Conar couldn’t do anything about it. Guess he’d have to figure this out on his own, or try to climb up with two arms and a tail. Neither one was looking too appealing, but sitting around until he was something else’s lunch was even less so. He turned to leave; maybe if he found a body of water he could safely regroup and rethink his plan.

“Where you goin’?” Slim called out. “That’s not where that lake was!”

Conar stopped. If he didn’t have to support himself with both arms, he’d slap his head.

Why didn’t I think of that?

As it was, he turned back around to watch Slim slide down, deftly getting the occasional grip on a branch to slow his descent. Conar started, jaw agape as he saw how deftly Slim put his feet on any knot, branch, or lose piece of bark without stumbling once. He once again found himself wishing he didn’t have to rely on Pants, but at least he now knew he could use water as well.

“So,” he asked, watching Slim land on the ground with little more than a grunt, “where to?”

Slim took the cue and reached to pick Conar up, but stopped when the Slig briefly raised a hand.

“Actually, we need a weapon. Maybe two, so you can fight somethin’ bigger than a Stunk.”

“Y-yeah…” Slim nodded, looking at the corpse of the worm. “Damn, you really took that thing out, huh?”

Conar shouted in response to the thing’s roar, pushing down on the root. The plating started to crack as it lifted upwards, and the worm screeched like nothing else. It finally lunged towards Conar, who couldn’t leap aside so much as slide off it. The worm succeeded in scooping itself a few inches off the ground, hideously long teeth piercing its own flesh, even protruding and visibly lifting more of its back plating.

He had to laugh as the roars and cries were drowned out by the creature’s own death rattle as it slumped over. The chuckles faded, however, as the discomfort of the thing continuing to writhe and hiss started to get to him, and he had to crawl back to make sure stray thrashes didn’t hit him.

Still, he was quick to put a face of cocksure bravado back on before Slim could think he had gone soft.

“C’mon,” he called up. “My stuff ain’t gonna get itself.”

“B-but I still don’t know which way we went!”

“Well, figure it out before something like that comes around again!”

Slim’s eyes narrowed for the first time as his head turned, seeming to want to look anywhere other than at the worm corpse or Conar. His hands instinctively pawed against the mossy trunk, and he started to clamber up to a higher branch.

“Where’re you going?” Conar demanded. “Get back down before I…”

Immersed in the dark humid blood-infested atmosphere, Lure was in a euphoric state, convinced that time had stopped. He had succeeded, although he could hardly believe it, despite the bloody substance dripping down his broken arm. The logic of the situation still escaped him. The Big Bro Sligs were undefeatable, invincible, which was why many young recruits saved up to undergo the dubious treatment of the Vykkers to become like this. They were the embodiment of true power.

And yet, Lure was the one who stood tall. Lure was the one who had survived. Lure, the small, insignificant, helpless, crippled insect, wounded beyond belief, with broken limbs. Lure had overcome this personified power. He was above this so-called power.

He loved that feeling. He wanted to enjoy it much longer.

“Ah ah ah ah! So?” he exulted, addressing the corpse. “How d'ya like that, loser? How does it feel to be crushed by a little shit?”

He wanted to give it a good kick, but his mechanical leg went in the wrong direction and threw him off balance. He toppled backwards, letting out a curse in his language as his aching back hit the ground.

“Ouch! Ah shit! Ah ah ah! Hey Sam! It’s safe, you can come! Ah ah! And uh… I could use a hand actually!”

Since there was no answer, he rolled a little to find himself on his stomach, facing the dozens of doors presented to him by his cracked visor.

“Hey Sam? Ouch! Ah that bastard! Big girl! It’s over, everything’s fine!”

In the other room, all he heard was a groan mixed with heavy gasps. Lure felt his smile fall.

“Sam?”

Then he suddenly made the connection. What an idiot! She was hurt, how could he have forgotten? He ranted at himself vehemently.

“Oh fuck! I’m coming Sam!”

He swung his legs in the air, but the usual angle to straighten him out was no longer right. One leg stuck rigidly while the other flailed uselessly in every direction except the right one.

“Oh no, no no no no no no NO! Not now!”

He punched his right leg angrily and squealed as a sharp, familiar pain shot through his shoulder. In desperation, he crawled away on his tentacles, leaving the dead weight of his pants behind, fearing the worst.

“Big girl!” he called, overwhelmed with anguish when he saw her, broken on the ground. “Bloody hell, faster! Big girl!”

He saw her clench her teeth and squirm. She was alive, at least for the moment. When he finally reached her side, Lure felt his heart stop.

The bullet she had been shot with had lodged in her lower abdomen. He could not see the wound, but she desperately pressed her large hands over it in a vain attempt to stop the massive flow of blood.

“Oh fuck no… no!”

His panicked gaze went from her hands to her face, unable to know what to do. He saw her multiplied tears, and felt his own rising. He tried to breathe in, half choked, and managed to put his hand on her trembling shoulder.

“Sam I… I…I’m here. It-it’s gonna be o-okay… right?”

If only saying beautiful sentences could force reality to follow. If only, then even he, with his own trembling desperate voice, which he struggled to control, even he could do something. His voice would give her all the support she needed, and he wouldn’t have to do more. But you don’t twist reality with helplessness, nor shame, nor even with sobs at the edge of your lips.

He noticed that she had opened her eyes. He saw the glow of absolute distress in them. This scared him more than anything else.

“Sam!”

She searched for his face in the dark, struggling to focus on what remained of his red shining visor.

“L-Lure?”

He tightened his grip on her shoulder.

“I’m here Sam! Oh fuck fuck fuck… b-breath!”

He tried to remember how she had managed to calm him down, how she had gotten him over the panic after he had his nightmares. She had made him breathe, or something. He tried to push back the panic that raged inside him, to think, not to give in to the urge to beg her to get better, to beg anyone. But before he could do anything, she grabbed his able-bodied hand and squeezed so hard he almost screamed.

“M-my babies…”

That was all she managed to articulate before she completely lost her mind in front of him.

“Help me! They-n-no! Th-they need…! Lure! You have to…! Oh please! Please help me!”

Her last words resonated within him as if he had become an empty, frozen shell. She was begging him. It was she who was begging him. But what could he do? He knew how to make holes with bullets, not how to fix them!

“Lure!” she screamed, completely appalled.

The Slig thought he was going to suffocate.

“I-I-I… what should I do? Tell me!”

She was no longer in any shape to answer. He had no answer. But she continued to cling to him, to beg him as if he were her only hope.

“Save them! SAVE THEM!”

“I can’t!”

She let go of his hand to press it again on her wound and let out an abominable shriek. Lure felt his heart break in two. He hadn’t wanted this. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen! They were supposed to go away together, away from all this madness. She would have been happy, she would have given birth to her tadpoles without worry. And he would have stayed by her side, he would have protected her, against the whole Cartel if he had to. That was what he had said to himself in his locker before this disaster, half-serious, swollen with determination, impatience and boastfulness.

So why did this happen?

Why couldn’t he do anything?!

…no.

There was one last thing to try. It would save her, no doubt. And it could save her children, maybe.

He crawled back to the front door, planting the end of his broken arm in the ground to go faster, trying to ignore Asameera’s cries, her pleas, her begging. He remained deaf to her strong need to be with him. He concentrated solely on the voice identification detector, pulled himself up as high as he could in front of the transmitter. He shouted a Slig code, different from the usual one, and a secret compartment opened in the wall, revealing a button and a phone. Finally, despite the horrible sensation in the pit of his shoulder, he managed to reach out, pushed on his tail, grew as tall as he could to reach the button. He felt it under his fingertips and, teeth clenched, he pushed until it sank in.

At that moment, the general emergency alarm was turned on. Rhythmic with an aggressive flashy red light that pulsed intermittently, it began to echo through the entire factory and down his spine. Lure tried to plant the tip of his prosthesis into the wall to hold himself up, he didn’t want to fall back down just yet. After all, there was no guarantee that he would be able to pull himself up high enough again. Only a tiny part sank into the wall, barely holding him in place. He gritted his teeth and muttered under his breath, trying to ignore the fact that his body would not hold much longer.

“C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! Hurry up! Come on, hang in there!”

To his relief, what he had been waiting for happened before he gave in: a shrill ringing sounded nearby, almost covered by the unstoppable alarm. The wall vibrated with the sound and the metal arm shook, scratching the wall as it fell, but Lure had already grabbed the phone’s receiver. He sprawled on the floor, panting from the effort he had just made, and pressed the device against his ear. A rather annoyed Slig voice, probably from being woken from his sleep, came to him with difficulty in the middle of crackling noises.

“Zulag 9, I record here an application of the GIZ915 protocol, namely the activation of the general alarm from your precise position. Do you confirm?”

Ordinarily, Lure wouldn’t have even waited for his interlocutor to finish reading his pre-written tirade, but he was too exhausted for that. He gave himself a few more seconds to take deep breaths before answering.

“Affirmative. I… I request an emergency dispatch of medical assistance.”

“Yeah right, what else? An Expresso maybe? Fix your own boo-boo yourself, loser! Disturbing me for such bullshit in the middle of the night…”

“She’s been shot! If Gottlieb… if she dies…! If she dies, Gottlieb will have us all flayed alive and you will be the first for having ignored a direct order!”

“What’re you talkin about, sucker?”

At least he sounded hesitant and less likely to hang up on him.

“Look, I’m telling you it’s fucking urgent! So either you send me a rescue team…”

“We don’t have a fucking rescue team!”

“Just do something! Or transfer me to the line of this Gottlieb asshole!”

“Errrrrrrrrrrr…”

The guy on the other end of the line suddenly started stammering, which didn’t help Lure’s nerves.

“Hurry up, moron!” he fumed. “There’s no ti…!”

“Ha, uh, ha, g-g-good evening boss? Nice evening isn’t it? Ahah! Uh… this is… this is for you I think… maybe?”

For a second, Lure was stunned, then quickly did the math. He could picture the poor Slig with the armband in the communications room flailing uneasily in his seat at the furious silhouette of the Glukkon who had probably just entered, just in time to hear what Lure had called him. It was very strange, but for the first time in his life, the Slig was not afraid of the consequences at all. If the situation had been different, he would even have burst out laughing.

“What’s going on here?” Gottlieb’s icy, murderous voice rang through the receiver, a hair weaker than his lackey’s from probably standing further away.

Lure wasted no time. He didn’t have that luxury.

“The future Mudokon Queen has been shot. Medical assistance urgently required.”

He thought that would be enough. But as he heard only a sizzling silence, he repeated.

“Medical assistance urgently required! The future Mudokon Queen has been shot! Medical…”

“What… what are you talking about? There is no Mudokon Queen in my factory!”

… what?

Lure was speechless for a moment, taken aback by what he’d just heard. For a moment, he looked in Asameera’s direction as if to verify that she was indeed there. Still lying on the ground, holding her stomach and looking up at him pleadingly, she was chanting silent prayers, but he could hear them as clearly as if she were speaking directly into his head.

Save them, save them…

He automatically brought the phone up to his mouth.

“Medical assistance requiered…”

“I’m telling you there’s no Mudokon Queen here you moron! Hang up now!”

The command was probably directed to the other Slig. Lure felt a cold sweat come over him.

“Wai..!”

“A moment please.”

Another voice had just interfered, preventing the line from being cut off in extremis. Lure tightened his fingers around the handset in a silent prayer, but also with unease. His gut was sending him a warning signal that had nothing to do with the one that was assaulting his eardrums at the moment. Something in that high-pitched voice was terribly familiar to him and he hoped he was wrong. But he had no time to think.

“Good evening” he heard again through the receiver “You just mentioned a ‘future Mudokon Queen’ if I’m not mistaken?”

“My dearest friend, don’t listen to that nonsense, that bungler is probably soaked in alcohol!”

Lure could hear the growing panic in Gottlieb’s voice, and he would have given anything to be able to listen to him for hours. But certainly not at the cost of losing the only person who mattered to him now.

“She had been shot” he repeated, detaching each word. “It’s an emergency! She might lose her kids! We need a doctor!”

He thought he heard a little laughter and suddenly he knew exactly who, no, what creature was at the end of the line.

“You are lucky, you are talking to one of them. Where are you right now?”

The Glukkon’s stammering filled the background without the Slig really hearing it. He had only a high-pitched voice, small yellow eyes and a purple body in mind. He was probably making the worst mistake of his life. He looked at Asameera, who looked more vulnerable than ever.

“Save them…”

He spoke without even realizing it.

“Zulag 9. The comm guy can show you the exact location on his screen.”

“The flashing red dot?”

“Er…” the other Slig’s voice echoed. “Y-Yes, it indicates the place where the alarm was triggered.”

“I’m telling you this idiot is talking nonsense and…!”

“I will be the only judge, if you please” the Vykkers retorted.. “If you have nothing to hide, I would have just wasted my time, wouldn’t I? Well, my Interns would have wasted theirs anyway. Go on, then!”

The order snapped, implacable, and despite Gottlieb’s vociferations something must have happened, because Lure finally heard:

“My team is on its way. I told you, you’re lucky… code 583.”

His breath caught in his throat and his mind suddenly froze. He knew who he was. He knew he had escaped from the laboratories, leaving behind a destroyed room, ransacked equipment and an enraged Slig Queen. The Vykkers had certainly come to demand an accounting from his ex-employer, that was why he was here. And now he was going to find him. And then? Would he bring him back to this horrible place? Would he survive long enough? What would happen to him?

“M-make it quick” he managed to stutter.

He wondered if he should add something else, deny and lie, before realizing that the line had probably been disconnected for a while. He dropped the handset and it hung in the air, bumping against the wall intermittently. The slow 'knock…knock…knock…’ it produced suddenly sounded like his own countdown.

“Lure…”

His mind was spinning dangerously, he had lost too much blood. He let himself slide against the wall in his turn, unable to join her again.

“Yeah Sam?”

He became acutely aware of his many wounds and the thick blood sticking to his palate. He could hardly breathe. The alarm continued to roar, covering Asameera’s faint voice. In a shaky and painful gesture, the Slig managed to take off his mask and spat weakly to the side.

“Now… looks like… I’m in trouble, ahah! They’ll probably shoot me on the spot… seeing my ugly face. Ahah jerks!”

He was only half joking, but bitterly regretted it when he realized she was sobbing further.

“Don’t say that!”

Lure felt the world capsizing slightly around him.

“'scuse me, big girl… oh shit. Well, don’t worry, right? They’re coming with all their equipment or whatever. They… they don’t… no wait… they better not lose your tadpoles, they’re… ah… they’re too precious… not like us… shit. It’s going to be okay…”

“Lure wait! I! I! I’m going to…!”

Lure couldn’t see much, but he thought he could hear wings flapping as the room lit up slightly. But then it faded away with a painful rattle, taking the birds with it.

“Stop it Sam. Save… yer strength. They need it… right?”

He was capsizing in turn, dangerously. Soon he would lose his balance. He barely heard her call out his name in terror. His voice was only a breath.

“Hey S-Sam? You… you would have come… with me… right? With me…”

She shouted something, something charged with this unknown power he hadn’t had time to understand and that filled him like a soft light. Unable to resist, he finally gave in to the vertigo and fell into nothingness.

ooOoo

This one is a little shorter than usual, but after debating with myself for quite a time I decided to leave it as it is. I hope you enjoyed…

First: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/asameera/691287639162290176?source=share

Previous: https://at.tumblr.com/asameera/oddworld-code-583-chapter-12-scarlet-world/86wzml6bzlwv

Conar had continued to throw what he could at the worm, with no response. Hitting it with a branch yielded nothing. Finding a sharp rock and getting a good cut across its body brought much of the same.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Conar demanded.

He was starting to take it personally at this point. Even Slogs knew when to move on from a meal that got away. And those green Ratz eyes he could see from the foliage weren’t helping any, either.

Well, at the very least, it gave him time to take a particularly nasty-looking piece of root and grab onto a plate of the worm’s back armor. He grit his teeth, instinctively shutting his eyes as dirt flung onto his visor. He barely had time to adjust his facial tentacles before he was pulled underground.

He gave his all to keep hold on the beast, not wanting an early burial, however better that would be than becoming Slig Soup. When he emerged, gasping for air, he looked ahead. The worm was still on the surface, so he had some time before he went under again.

He took the root and jammed it under the plating He rammed it as far as he could, and judging by that screechy roar and the worm turning towards him, he had finally gotten the thing’s attention.

“’Bout time… oh.”

“Maybe if we’re lucky,” Conar said, “our stuff’ll still be there.”

Slim nodded, rubbing his head. His cap was unsurprisingly lost in the chaos, but that was the least of his worries. He looked around, realizing that he had no idea where he had come from. The foliage was thick, and he couldn’t see any footprints amongst the roots, rock, or moss.

The buzzing of insects around didn’t help, nor did the sounds of distant rustling echoing from all sides. Slim crept up to the base of a tree trunk, putting his back against it as best he could. He heard a low rumble somewhere, and reflexively made a grab for a nearby branch, hefty hands swinging to break it off and make an impromptu weapon.

“Good thinkin’,” Conar said. “Better than going out there unarmed.”

“Shh!”

They waited for a few seconds, Slim deciding the branch made a better spiked club than it would a spear, shifting his grip accordingly. Eyes darted every which way, finally focusing on some underbrush that started rustling.

Slim raised his club, readying himself for whatever would lunge his way.

Conar slowly crept back, unsure of what else to do but give advice from the sidelines.

The rustling grew more intense, the thick leaves making a hideous hissing sound as the low roar echoed through the woods again.

“On my mark,” Conar said, “get it before it gets you!”

A trembling Slim nodded, not breaking contact with the bush.

“Ready…”

Even the trees nearby were starting to tremble, scaring the birds out. The cacophony of caws and screeches did nothing to make this easier for Slim.

“Ready…”

This was it. A tree buckled and collapsed, as if pushed by some leviathan. The roars were getting louder, and the ground started to shake, rattling small rocks.

“Now!”

Slim let out a yell and charged forward, bringing the club straight down. He thought it was a good battlecry, but Conar heard the terrified scream of an injured Meep in that.

His terror-fueled fury turned to confusion, however, when he was halfway into the brush and couldn’t see, feel, or hit anything other than the ground and some more twig-like branches.

Finally, he saw it – a Stunk had hopped on out of the bush, frantically trying to escape the wild swings and generally making the air fouler. Conar and Slim watched as it squeaked in protest of this assault, then started to scamper off. The rumbling was gone.

They looked at each other, wondering who would break the stunned silence first.

“Oh, man!” Conar finally burst out laughing. “I prolly could’ve taken him out myself!”

“Y-yeah…” Slim said, nervously laughing, “that thing really had us—”

“Dammit!” Conar muttered, looking at the other Sligs through a gap in the crates. “Shoulda known they’d up the security on these things.”

“Wait, it’s not normal to have Sligs everywhere?”

“Not on the trains. Usually just Mudokons watchin’ over the cargo. But we saw more of Abe lately, right?”

Slim nodded, looking over to see an irritated and damp Slig stomping on what was left of his cigarette. The other one looked ready to clobber him with his club.

“Oh, this’ll be easy!”  Conar said, lifting a pistol up. “They were still too cheap to get real weapons for these guys, huh?”

He trained a bead, preparing for a rapid-fire solution to this problem that wouldn’t require anything else, but stopped. Behind them, there was the same Slog crate he had put Chairman in.

He couldn’t risk hitting a Slog, let alone his boy.

“Mama always said my head strap was a bit loose,” he grumbled, packing the gun away. “Probl’y got the standard firepower alarms, too.”

“Y-your head strap?” Slim asked, but shook his head. “What now, then?”

“Lemme know if you got any ideas,” he said. “I don’t think we could take ‘em without more incoming, and they just gotta get lucky once.”

“Well, let’s find a place to hide so we can talk about this.”

“I’m not sitting in Meep crap again.”

A few minutes later, they found a place where Slim could not only clamber up to a better vantage point, but also pull Conar up without issue. Once his companion was up, Slim lied down flat, trying to keep himself in the center.

“What the…?” Conar asked, before realization made him chuckle. “Eh, don’t worry. Not a lot of us look up. Too busy with the grounds we’re guardin’, I guess.”

He looked down at the grounds below, the labyrinth of beasts and light security suddenly feeling smaller than he had thought.

“Really kinda stupid,” he admitted. “I mean, death from above is a thing, yeah? I never got why they didn’t check for that.”

“Better for us, I guess.”

As Slim stood up, his dirty cap got caught on something, forcing his gaze upward to reveal another sprinkler. He adjusted his hat and took his surroundings in, soon seeing a screen showing the fire danger and meat doneness level. Even better, the Slog crate wasn’t that far.

“Hey, I think we could get a distraction goin’,” he said, taking his cap and wrapping it around the sprinkler above them. “And you might be able to get a smoke in, too.”

“Welp, I’m sold.”

There was no hesitation on Conar’s part. He was puffing and slouching before Slim could say anything else.

The alarms started blaring once more, and the sprinklers started going. Slim felt his cap soak in his hands, but kept strong. He wasn’t sure what kinds of animals they were standing above, and he didn’t need their noises attracting more attention their way.

Conar finally felt at ease again. It had been forever since his last Lungbuster, and he was going to savor this. Not even the blaring alarms or panicked creatures and guards below could bring him down. Idly, he watched as other Sligs ran around, trying to find the smoker to beat, or find the fire if that failed. He could see the screens go from “Still Rare” to “Medium Well”, and the meter was still rising. The picture of a Scrab went from happy to concerned.

A couple of Sligs ran close to their perch, still failing to look up at the source of the problem.

“You think Delkin’s in one of these again?” one of them asked, banging against a crate with his Bouncer baton. There was chatter from inside the box, but it quickly died down.

“Maybe he’ll share the *really* good stuff if we feed his arms to the Slogs,” the other laughed. He took out his larger baton, wrapped in metal plating, and slammed against the same crate. “Come on out, Delkin! We’ll take your arms off before we feed ‘em if you do! Promise!”

The crate Conar and Slim were on started to wobble from the force of the guard’s repeated pummels. The animals inside screeched. Slim struggled to keep his balance, let alone keep holding his cap on the sprinkler. Water started to spill down again, much to the dismay of everyone around.

What was worse, it was making the floor they were on far slipperier. Conar was still sitting, keeping a hand over his cigarette, but Slim fell over onto the crate with a thud, and his feet dangled over the ledge.

“What the hell was that?” One of the guards demanded, looking around. Conar scooted back just in case Slim was wrong and they would look up at him, but kept puffing as he turned to his companion. He reached a hand out without hesitation, which Slim accepted without hesitation. In seconds, the  two of them were in the middle again, sitting on cheap wood soaked in cold, greasy water.

They listened as Slig Pants rushed around them, trying to find the source of the noise.

“Coulda sworn I heard somethin’…”

“You don’t think it coulda been…?”

“Abe guy or not, something’s up. We need a vantage point.”

“Gotcha.”

There was the telltale sound of two Sligs grunting, and a pair of whirring Slig Pants stepping on wood.

Slim was prepared to climb the opposite way, but Conar grabbed his arm.

“They could be tryin’ a basic flank,” he whispered. “We oughta go to the right there.”

Slim gulped, looking down at the hissing Paramites they’d be trapped between. Those metal bars would hold, sure, but the way that claw face was going through them… he shuddered to imagine what they could do to his flesh.

He didn’t have to worry, though, as the alarms grew louder, and there was a hiss as steam rushed in from the ceiling along with the downpour.

“Oh, shit!” one of the Sligs cried. “It’s overcooked!”

“What?” the other shouted. “Where’s the phone; we gotta tell them—”

“No time!”

Slim watched as similar panic occurred with other Slig squads. They were all rushing towards one of the doors, banging against them and demanding the barely-awake guards to let them out.

“Guess that takes care of that,” Conar laughed, putting his cigarette out. “Now, lessee…”

Before Slim could say anything, Conar leapt down, taking a leisurely stroll towards the Slog crate.

“A-aren’t you worried about—” Slim called out, before yelping as a burst of steam nearly hit him head-on.

“About what?” Conar shrugged. “We should have plenty of time before anyone comes back on patrol. You can rest easy—”

And then the floor dropped out from the car.

Conar, Slim, countless animals, and a few unlucky Sligs plummeted, unable to focus on anything except the rapidly-approaching greenery below. The cries of any one of them were drowned out by the others, but Conar knew that from the trains above, many passengers would be laughing at their plight.

Thankfully, it was not a long fall.

 Further, there was a well below, and Slim was able to dive into it. He was always told not to hop into them, so he figured if the Glukkons didn’t want him doing it, it could be his salvation. His thought proved true when he was launched back into the air, just enough to gently land on the soft dirt on the shore of some murky swamp water.

Conar was not so lucky, however. As the animal crates went every which way, many shattering to free their inhabitants, Conar had landed straight into the water. He splashed and scrambled to keep his head above water. His mask was blurry, and he tried to paddle towards what he thought was Slim.

“Help! Help!”

To make things worse, he could feel water seeping into his Pants. It not only weighed him down, but he could also feel his legs seize up. It was only a matter of time before he sunk like that Paramite cage.

That blurry silhouette he tried to move towards waved its arms, and shouted something. Even if Conar couldn’t hear him over the splashes, he could at least tell it was Slim, and it looked like he was getting some planks from a shattered crate to try and reach him. He just hoped the board would be long enough.

At the very least, the plank Slim found was long enough for him to lose his balance. He wobbled back and forth for a moment before he was able to adjust his grip and turn towards Conar again. The board swung clumsily, but it was at least within arm’s reach after a few seconds. He gave a sigh of relief, gripping the rescue the instant he could.

But why wasn’t he being pulled to shore?

His still-blurry vision focused on Slim, who was struggling to stay upright. His end of the board was lifting, and Conar was once again feeling himself sinking. The plank grew slipperier, and there was nothing stopping Conar from an undignified death.

Nothing except…

Well, he could worry about his dignity later. For now, his tail pushed against the eject lever. He was used to it being a mere flick, but now he found that his useless lower half was struggling to exit the Pants.

After several agonizing seconds, he finally felt the lever give, and he could feel his Pants sinking off of him.

The moment he didn’t feel the comfort of unpolished metal on his tail, he shot up like a Mudokon that stole some Bounce, and quicky found himself bobbing on the surface.

Slim dropped the plank, slowly turning away as he saw Conar stop splashing. But then, he heard him start shouting again.

“The hell is this? I can swim?”

He turned, and sure enough, Conar’s panicked flailing had become a forceful paddling towards shore, tail acting as a clumsy rudder as he made his way over. Slowly but surely, he made it over, finally reaching the muddy banks of the pond. The transition from swimming to crawling felt… strange, somehow. It was as if something was wrong the whole time.

“Er, you all right?” Slim asked, still not over the sight of a Slig treading water.

“Yeah,” Conar said, “now shaddup about it. Let’s just… see what we can recover and—”

“You there!”

They turned to see another Slig, who was clutching his chest with one hand and pointing a gun with another.

“I… ugh… don’t know what you did,” he said, wincing through the pain, “But you messed with the wrong—”

And that’s when the Fuzzles leapt onto him. It was such a bloody blur that they couldn’t see how many, but it didn’t matter. He was gone in seconds.

Slim scooped Conar up and started to run in the opposite direction, not caring that he was stumbling into unknown foliage, where other Sligs or some kind of monster could find them.

“Hold up!” Conar demanded, trying to crawl out of Slim’s grip. “We gotta find Chairman! He could help us survive!”

But Slim wasn’t listening. He was too focused on dodging trees and stumbling in mud. He sometimes swerved to avoid the origin of a distant roar or screech, but other than that, he was effectively deaf.

“Slim!” Conar cried, trying in vain to flail out and even smack his captor. “C’mon, ya idiot, we gotta—”

He grunted in pain, his tentacles getting hit by branch after branch. His view was endlessly jostled- if something didn’t change, he could throw up or pass out. He could only hope the latter happened first.

Instead, his tentacles instinctively wrapped around one of the less thorny branches, and they held as tightly as Slim was holding Conar. Finally, Slim slowed down, but he was still trying to pull forward, holding onto Conar.

The branch bent, and Conar felt the strain of this tug-of-war. He groaned in pain, knowing it was either this or running deeper into the swampy jungle with no direction.

Slowly but surely, he slipped out of Slim’s tight grip, nearly getting flung off the branch to Odd-knows-where, but his tentacles held true. In fact, they allowed him to shuffle up towards the trunk and right himself, comfortably lying on his stomach again.

Slim, for his part, had fallen face-first into the soft dirt. He grumbled for a second, before noticing he was now empty-handed. He shot up, looking around frantically.

“Conar? Where are ya? C’mon, please!”

For his part, Conar climbed further down the trunk, getting onto the tanged roots below. The moss and Spooce there gave a similar sickly green to Conar’s skin. If it wasn’t for his mask, he’d blend right in, he imagined.

“There you are!” Slim sighed in relief. “I still need a guy who can shoo—”

He gaped, watching as the Slig effortlessly crawled down the roots, as if he was built to do it. His tentacles easily acted as a third hand, keeping him stable all the way, and his tail helped him stay in one place as he stopped to talk.

“Yeah, well,” Conar laughed, looking Slim in the eye. “that’d be easier if you didn’t run away from my gun and all our stuff.”

“Hey, you saw those little things tearing that guy apart! What chance’ve we got against those?”

“Better than out here, all lost and without a weapon,” Conar pointed out. “Unless you have somethin’ we can use to protect our asses.”

He shook his head.