"Forward! Keep going forward! I said FORWARD! GET MOVIN', YA BASTICHES!"
The blithering, idiotic Glukkon continued to lead the Sligs through the depressing, industrial world of Soulstorm Brewery - and he hadn't shut up ever since they had started their daily patrolling.
Patrolling was so goddamn boring. Walking around, for hours on end, for some little bastard that wasn't going to show up. The Sligs were supposed to agree with whatever the Glukkons shrieked, were meant to laugh when they laughed, were expected to shoot on sight. But, after an incident long ago in the RuptureFarms days, the Sligs had turned rebellious and were all jokers. They just got by with the rules - they didn't want to end up interrogated like Abe was meant to be.
"We're going as fast as we can walk," Nathaniel, a particularly obedient Slig, sighed. His gun was so heavy. He was fairly new to the Slig gang, and although they'd welcomed him in, he still wasn't sure whether he liked his job or not. The free Soulstorm Brew was great, and they had life insurance - "the guy who kills ya gets blasted, then he's Scrab food!" didn't appeal to Nathaniel.
"Fast? Those fuckin' Mudokons are faster than you! And they don't get paid squat! You guys get insurance, so you should be grateful! And just for that, newbie, you're all doing three hours more patrolling!"
The pack of Sligs moaned, but Nathaniel could tell most of it was fake. Although patrolling was ridiculously mind-numbing, it gave them an excuse to drink brew and talk to each other. They tended to rebel and joke around against the Glukkons who simply led them to their area, but if they fucked about around the big dogs that owned the brewery, they were more than likely going to be Scrab food. Sligs hated Scrabs, and Scrabs equally hated them, and everything else, back.
"This is it?" Leezak, one of the older Sligs, questioned with a disappointed look when the Glukkon stopped walking, and turned to face the crew. Munching on his cigar, he nodded and let out a loud, condescending laugh. Nathaniel sank a little, nervous. He'd never been around this place before. Why did the brewery have to be so industrial and discouraging? If they had dancers, or something, to spice the place up, he'd be happy.
A large sign at the very top of the enormous room blared "BAGGAGE CLAIM". A pallid yellow sign marked with blue, the Sligs weren't very convinced about Mudokons - or anyone - coming to claim their baggage. Whatever the hell that even meant.
"Sounds like that place at RuptureFarms!" Byron laughed raucously, and struck a high five with Rolan. Byron, Leezak and Rolan assumed a leadership role within the gang, and they were one of the older Sligs, also having responsibility of looking out for Nathaniel. All three of them were complete jokers.
"Who remembers the time we all got drunk when the President was having an inspection?" Dumont yelled excitedly, punching the air with an iron fist. The air was filled with cheers and laughter, reminiscent of some kind of Slig football match, and even Nathaniel joined in, with a nudge from Leezak and Rolan.
"SILENCE!"
Not wishing to be sent to "The Boardroom", the Sligs died down. "The Boardroom" was a terrible story, one that all Sligs, old and new, knew off by heart. If someone broke the rules over and over, they were sent to The Boardroom and the Glukkons would want to talk. But talk was code for kill, and being killed by a Big Bro Slig wasn't pleasant. The Boardroom was a nightmarish concept - some of the younger, newer Sligs didn't even believe in it. No Slig returned alive, the others forced to believe that they didn't even exist anymore. They weren't real. The Sligs stuck together, looking out for each other - even though they weren't supposed to have emotions, or feel anything. To the Glukkons, they were disposable zeroes that were good only for killing. It was only business.
"Alright, ya little vermins," the Glukkon sighed dangerously, shaking its head. "Yer mission today is-"
"To patrol, looking out for Abe?"
"And to shoot on sight?"
"And to report back to you?"
The Glukkon rolled its eyes and continued chewing on its cigar. He knew his bunch of Sligs were jokers that didn't listen, so he just shrugged and nodded, shouted at them to "GET MOVIN'!" Once satisfied, he waddled off, chuckling darkly to himself.
Nathaniel took his place with Byron, Leezak, and Rolan, gun in hand. Byron was identifiable by a long, thin scar all up his body, snaking in twists and stopping just underneath his eye. Nathaniel didn't know how he received it, but he seemed proud of it - it proved his strength, he said. He was also taller than the majority of the other Sligs. Leezak only had one eye, having lost the other in a shooting accident. Rolan always wore a brightly-coloured band around his arm, the only colour that wasn't a sickly green around the brewery. Nathaniel wished he had some kind of scar, or a band that reminded him of home. It would make him different, make him stand out.
"Hey, Nat'aniel, ya want some Soulstorm?"
Nathaniel accepted.
"Dere he is!"
"The bastard who blew up RuptureFarms!"
"Ya mean it's Abe?"
"Of course it's Abe! Look 'at him! Boys, fire awaaaaaay!"
Deafening gunshots filled the air as the Sligs desperately shot at Abe, who was dashing around the upper platforms, performing some kind of one-legged pirouette to avoid the rain of bullets, hiding behind whatever he could.
A lever lay just before him, and curiosity, that little fucker, washed over the heroic Mudokon. Now out of harm's way, hiding behind a few large crates, Abe smiled to himself, one of the few genuine smiles he could pull with the thick thread through his lips, and reached towards the bright green lever with one hand.
"Do I really want to do this, and totally degrade these Sligs?…of course I do!" Abe grinned wildly, and pulled the lever with all his might.
Silence at first.
Nathaniel looked up, and boulders suddenly crashed down on top of the majority of Sligs, as they screamed for help and questioned what was going on with their nasally, metallic voices. Nathaniel managed to get out the way, as had Leezak, Byron and Rolan. All four were cursing. Foiled again.
Abe smiled to himself. He'd found a good haul of Mudokons to rescue earlier, and was quickly running back to the bird portal. Now that the Sligs weren't there - at least, not all of them - he could progress onto the next area and hopefully take down the bad boys in "The Boardroom". The remaining Sligs simply sat, pretty much hopeless for life, and simply let Abe escape. What was the point if he was just going to dodge their bullets? What pointless guns they'd been given.
"Does 'crap' stand for somethin'? It's how I feel right now," Leezak groaned.
"Certainly Rubbish And Pathetic," Byron grunted, throwing his gun in front of him and sighing. "Man, dat Glukkon's gonna kill us."
"Who gives a shit?" Nathaniel spat with such scorn that even he was surprised. Leezak, Byron and Rolan looked at him simultaneously, with surprised looks.
"He's right," Rolan shrugged. "Who gives a shit?"
The four Sligs pretended to patrol until the Glukkon returned, all of them bearing the secret that Abe was definitely going to blow the place up. They were planning their escape route already, and it certainly didn't involve claiming baggage.