Oddworld: Code 583 - Chapter 14: What was stolen
“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.
“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.”
“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 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…”
“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…
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.
Above the red stain, something was moving, a purple thing whose high-pitched voice warned him.
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…
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.
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!”
“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!”
“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…”
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?
His heart began to beat faster and faster.
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…
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.
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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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.
It was 988’s voice and tone, but Lure didn’t recognize his way of speaking either.
“Perfect. Now get 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:
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?
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.
“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.”
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
