Hi everyone,
I thought I'd have a go at writing a SLA story. I hope you enjoy it
I haven't been playing SLA for long and I don't write very much so I
hope it doesn't suck too bad.
Anyway let me know what you think.
Adam.
By the way it contains course langauge so I hope it doesn't offend too
much.
Fuck it stinks in this rancid sardine can.
I have been on the tube now close to two hours and it isn't getting any more bearable. That sweaty disgraceful cloud of fetid oppression surrounds me like a blanket. When I get home I'm going to scrub extra hard when I wash just to get the stench out. I don't know what's worse… A sewer job or the guass train. Nah the sewer job wins hands down.
Only ten minutes or so and I'm walking in the fresh… no, I'm walking in the air.
I don't know if it's me, but I think people are getting uglier every year. I'm sure last year people looked better. Aliens have always looked foul. Don't get me wrong I'm not xenophobic I just hate the pricks.
Here we go, finally some action to break the monotony. Some no name crew of gangers are looking at me like they want to stand up to the plate and take a swing. The one in the middle must be the head honcho, well he does have the most ridiculous hair cut and the others are looking at him as if to say "I wish I was you".
"What are you looking at SLOP?!"
How predictable! They usually start with this line. Can't at least one hard ass start to pick a fight with something original.
"Well Slop, what are you looking at?"
"A dead man!"
Hey that was a cool reply. I'm happy with that.
"What did you say Slop?"
"Don't tell me you are as deaf as you are verbally impaired".
I love this next bit. They walk up nice and close. Like at tongue distance from your face and try to talk you down. This would be better if it was a female for a change. Why can't it be some hot chick? You know, a stunner.
"Do you want to call me that again Slop boy?"
"Heh heh heh, no unlike you, I don't have to repeat myself to sound hard".
Mister cool one liner, come on down. God I'm good.
"Listen up Slop! My crew don't like it when their boss gets dissed. I think we better teach you some manners."
When they are this close they also fail to notice when I've drawn my gunhead and have it pointing right at what they cherish most.
"Are you sure you want to do that? Because my little friend that's about to get better acquainted with your nuts says otherwise".
This bit is so priceless. They go all pale and back down but try to look cool in front of their "crew" and come up with a lame excuse as to why you won't be leaving in a body bag. Then as they walk away they finish with some pathetic verbal parting shot. Of course the lackeys always have something smart to add but it's usually as unintelligible as the leader monkey.
"Your lucky I'm in a good mood today Slayer layer. Otherwise I'd cut you up. This time I'll let you go just to show my good will".
I like that facial colour. It would look good painted on my apartment walls. That’s if I could ever scrap the filth off. The walls that is.
"Well you're lucky I'm not much of a fan of bullet tax. Otherwise you'd be the head eunuch of this merry bunch".
"You'll get yours chump".
There it is. The parting shot.
They always walk into another carriage so that they don't have to deal with me staring at them. Then they will take window seats and keep an eye out for when I get off. If they are pussies they'll just stay on the train and arrange their phalanges into vaguely annoying signs. If they are stupid they will get off and "sort me out".
Heres my stop.
Ahh! Fresher air. I almost appreciate it.
Next, I'll walk up to the snack vending machine. Casually slot in some uni's and punch the buttons to get an overpriced packet of stale nuts. I'm not hungry. I'm just looking at the reflective surface to see if I'm being followed by the goon squad. But I do like nuts.
Yep they're stupid. There's only five. They really need more.
I try not to smile and I just walk away real casual.
The game begins.
When I first started as a solo op I hated getting off the train late at night to walk these dark alleys on my way to a home with it's exterior littered with syringes, bodies, faecal matter and pools formed by oily tears that continuously cascade from above. But now it gives me entertainment. I never know who looms out in the innumerable shadows waiting to relieve me of my possessions. I try to kid myself by thinking that I came here so long ago that I can't how long it was. But it was eleven years.
I can hear the clowns behind me as I step into the alleys and descend into the darkness. They are trying to be quiet but I can still hear them. As I round a corner I figure that I have few seconds before they are looking at me again. So I step into the shadows and worm my way down alleys and lanes as quick and as quietly as I can.
I pick up my pace so I can circle around and to give me an advantage by coming up behind them.
Surprise is a word that comes to mind when they round the corner, CAF weapons at the ready to give me my lesson. But of course I'm not there. The head monkey steps back behind his valued brethren and tells them to fan out and keep their eyes open, like he really knows what he's talking about.
Usually I like this part of the game to pass slowly forming into a pleasant crescendo then the grand finale.
But I'm hungry now. It must have been the nuts. I like nuts.
Well time to get serious. So I screw my silencer onto my tool of choice. Tonight it's my gunhead. Nice and versatile for this occasion.
The next few minutes form a blur as my adrenalin increases.
Scratch One
Scratch Two
Three was funny. I love it when they piss their pants when you sneak up and they realise they're fucked.
Scratch Four. This guy was a bit harder but no harder than pulling the trigger in the face of a child.
Mr. Five. What a laugh. He actually assumed that when Mr. Four screamed that it was me. You poor bastard.
"FUCK YOU SLAYER PIG!"
Still no witty repertoire.
"You should have kept riding the train".
I hissed that out just to make him think I was spooky. I don't think it worked that well.
"Just get it over with and shoot me pig. Shoot me dead if you've got the guts".
"Killing you wouldn't be much of a test of my mettle".
"Well hurry up and do it. Your breath stinks".
How rude. Finally a witticism remotely annoying.
"I'm not going to kill you. I want to meet you again. I'm still going to shoot you though".
THOOWP!
Mr. Five's eyes widen as my gunhead whispers to him.
He doubles over and collapses on the ground in absolute agony and tries to scream but it hurts too much.
"If you get medical attention you probably won't die from that wound. If you live your girlfriend is going to hate me though".
Yeah as I was saying, I like nuts.