DATE: August 17, 2001 CAST: Basil, Gresham, Terry and Walter Scroungers' Warehouse A texture of powerful odors threatens to overwhelm the senses of those who are unused to them. You can see crevices containing food of some sort--old cheese puffs, coffee beans, dried Spam, and more--a revolting sight for all but the most starved or steeled. But that's not all: there are also oddities like tin foil, paper, string, sequins, and even an occasional human trinket. This must be some kind of warehouse. There are several tough-looking bugs hired to guard these valuables, keeping an eye on all that transpires. Quite a contrast to that scrawny little leafhopper over there, who studiously shuffles through papers on his matchbox desk. Well, it's about that time. The leafhopper told them to come back at six that evening, and here they are. An ant of a dull grayish lavender plods through the entrance, doubtless with his companion either alongside him or not far behind. Although Walter tried to take advantage of the few spare hours to rest, he doesn't look any better than the last time he was here. It will take much more time to clear up those bruises and fill out his emaciated physique. Dragging behind Walter, is the haggard appearing Basil. A tiny bit of rest is about all this individual could muster. How he intends on doing much physical labor is not entirely within his grasp, but in order to get the food he needs, work will have to be done. Looking up toward the entrance to their new place of employment, he can only wonder what kind of physical labor this kind of job demands. Basil hopes to be successful in this endeavor. The matchbox desk is where it was last time, as is (predictably) the leafhopper. Paperwork is still littered across the surface. But instead of poring over these particulars, Gresham has his blank gaze fixed on a female sand-and-rust colored grasshopper. "Well, yes, I expect they'll be here any minute..." the little bug turns his head as he perceives movement at the entrance. "Oh, yes! Here they are now, Terry." As Gresham points out the two ants she has been assigned to work with, the grasshopper known as Terry turns about to face them. She raises a skeptical eyeridge, as if taken aback by their appearance. Her mouth opens, but she is unable to think of anything to say just at the moment. It closes, forming a slight, troubled frown. At the sight of the grasshopper, Walter immediately comes to a halt. His eyes become rounder than ever as he beholds the grasshopper, and tries hard not to swallow. Oh, this can't be their new coworker... can it? Upon entering the warehouse, first the aroma fills his senses, but as Basil takes a look around, he sees the female grasshopper, and can hardly believe his eyes. 'Would someone *please* flatten me and get it over with,' he calls out in his mind. With their luck, combined with the fact that she is the only other bug besides Gresham there, gives Basil the inescapable conclusion that this is most likely the 'Terry' they were to meet that night. "Uh..." is about all he can express. "Gresham..." There is a quiet but slightly edged quality to Terry's tone as she suddenly regards the leafhopper. "These are the ants you hired today?" Disbelief. Blinking. The grasshopper cants her head at the two small insects, a frown ever present. "No offense, but you both look three quarters dead. Do you *know* what you're getting into?" "Yes, they are," is Gresham's simple reply. His shoulders shift in what could be called an indifferent shrug -- apparently he doesn't see any problem. Maybe there's something wrong with his eye sight. Or maybe he's just that absent minded. "What?" is then followed by a uncomfortably long period of silence. A slight shake of the head is made, but it seems to solve none of the confusion going on in this poor ant's mind. Was that concern, that he heard? Basil has heard hardly more than a few words of concern from *anyone* except Walter, in the last three months. Then coming from a grasshopper, is just a little more than he can handle right now. "Um... Well.... I, I don't... " A pause is made, as Basil attempts to collect his thoughts. "Well, we have no source of income for food, so, we really have no choice on what we can do for work," is finally offered in a somewhat jumbled fashion. Walter is floored by, well, just about everything. The fact that they are supposed to work with a grasshopper still hasn't quite sunk in. Marginally, yes, but not totally. He continues gaping at Terry in a speechless stupor, even after she addresses them. A few seconds after Basil answers her, he is finally able to rediscover the means to use his tongue. "Yeah... we're kind of stuck." Terry's expression doesn't fade at this explanation, but it does become more stern. Almost angry. "I see." She pauses, on the verge of adding more, but relapses into total silence. Mahogany colored eyes glower as stoops over to pick up her ragged satchel. She then commences to walk away from the desk, heading for the exit. "Follow me, please." "Oh, okay..." Mumbles Basil as he observes the seemingly irritated tone and facial response, and follows suit. Perhaps 'concern' was a little too strong a term. Quite likely a misinterpretation on his part, but Basil now feels another wave of anxiety flow through him, as he makes the assumption that the grasshopper might not be to thrilled with the aspect of being dragged down by their lack of performance. "We'll try to do the best we can to keep up," he offers sincerely, upon when it hits him where his assumption lies. The mosquito voiced concern about his productivity being hampered by their inability to perform to his abilities. Walter mutters something barely audible and less than intelligible under his breath, all the while shaking his head morosely. His gaze drops to the ground defeatedly as the grasshopper walks past. Heaving a sigh, he begins to follow Terry, offering no further comment and simply expecting the worse. Outside the Trailer Dominating your view is the trailer, an enormous man-made marvel whose size dwarfs the tallest cardboard buildings you'll ever find. It's a humbling sight for many tiny insects beholding it for the first time. Next to this massive structure is a crate of rotting wood, decorated by a single fading word: "Apples." It looks totally devoid of apples. Another scrap of wood leans diagonally against the crate, conveniently serving as a ramp to what looks like a small 'hole' in the trailer's aluminum siding. You can see a well-beaten path winding away from here, leading towards the city entrance. Other places: (B)ack to the (O)utskirts, Inside the [T]railer, Into the [C]rate ... They are only a short distance away from the warehouse when Terry comes to an abrupt stop. The grasshopper turns with suddenness, pausing to regard the ants before her. "Sienna told me you were 'kind of banged up,'" she informs them briskly, "but that was clearly an understatement." She stands with arms akimbo, regarding the ants once again with a troubled frown. "You have just entered one of the most dangerous occupations you can get in these parts. It's not just a matter of doing your job or keeping up, it's a matter of /surviving/. You need to be strong, quick, stealthy, and clever. You are starved, injured, and generally don't look up to the task." These words are not stated with any trace of contempt, but in a very factual tone. Basil's expression softens at the concern that is voiced by Terry, one that still takes him by surprise. "I think under better circumstances, we would take your advisement." Then a hard swallow is made at the mention of how dangerous the job is. "But we've tried to find work, and this place," a thumb is pointed toward the warehouse, "is the only place that would hire us. It might be dangerous, but it's gotta be better than starving in an empty alley." Walter stares up at Terry blankly as she says all of this, then back down, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck in a subconscious, nervous habit. In acknowledgement of Basil's response, he nods laboriously. "We don't have any choice. It's kind of comes down to 'do or die.'" Terry glances off to the side as she digests this information, mahogany optics narrowed in thought. At length she nods in slow reluctance. "Very well, then." She straightens, fixing a stern look on Basil and Walter. "You'll have to keep close to me. Watch and learn, and don't go out of your way to do much of anything for now. But! I need you to stay alert." This said, she starts to turn towards the massive structure that is the trailer, then pauses, remembering something. She reaches into her satchel, pulls some things out, and offers them to Basil and Walter. It appears to be edible. A simple nod is given as Terry further instructs them in the new employment they've acquired. Much of what is told offers little comfort, but considering how much he's been through, it probably can't be much worse. Basil has every intention of staying close to the hopper, as odd as that may sound. He then watches her remove the two items from her pack, and after giving it a fast inspection, begins to consume it eagerly. "Thanks!" is expressed with deep sincerity as Basil continues to eat. "This is about the most we've had to eat in a while." At first Walter can only stare dumbly at what he's just been offered. He weighs it in his hand, eyes staring in disbelief. What is it? Finally he perceives it to be edible, and he shoves its entirety into his mouth, making short work of it immediately. "Yeah, thanks," he says between swallows, grateful for the little bit of nourishment. Although he could still eat a lot more, it takes some of the edge off his hunger. Well, it appears those ants were serious... it's either this job, or starving. Terry simply nods in response to the words of thanks, adjusts her grip on her satchel, and resumes treading towards the trailer. "What kind of things should we be on the outlook for?" The question is asked with much intrepidity. "The leafhopper mentioned a couple of hazards, but maybe you can give us a few pointers." Basil then takes a look up toward the trailer its self, and comes to a complete halt as he gapes his mouth in awe at the sheer size of the man made object before him. "Who... Who in the world ... made *this* thing?" "Yeah... and a mosquito, um, he said something about a thing called... Muffin?" Walter steps forward, failing to exactly match Terry's stride, who has the benefit of long grasshopper legs and better health. Again the grasshopper pauses. She slides the satchel off her shoulder, and retrieves a few bits of paper, which she extends toward Basil. "That's a list of the things we need to look out for." She recommences her saunter towards the trailer, hoisting up the satchel until it rests on her other shoulder. "Humans made that thing," she replies at length. "They still live there. They also have a beastie of a cat known as Muffin. We need to be on the alert for her." "O... Okay, then," Basil responds with a great deal of intrepidity. He can hardly imagine what kind of creature a human is, or what this Muffin could be, but it sounds like they've gotten themselves into quite a bit of a job. "Thanks... for the info," is replied as the list is accepted, and given the once over two or three times. "I'm not entirely sure what some of theses things are..." is stated as Indigo tinted eyes become locked onto the piece of paper before him, then a hand is lifted to scratch just above his right antennae's base. Walter, on the other hand, seems to have a better idea of what Terry is talking about, at least when she mentions humans. His eyes widen considerably, a little jolt interrupting his gait. "H-humans? You mean... you mean the big giants who invented bug spray? But they're a myth!" The ant looks toward the grasshopper for some positive sign. Even now, when faced with this massive wonder of a human structure, he tries to disbelieve just what they're getting into. A hint of a wry smile appears on the grasshopper's face, but she keeps her back to the ants, thus keeping this expression to herself. "No," Terry replies shortly, "the humans are just as real as you and me. But believe me, it's better to be caught by a human than a cat." She heaves a slow, deliberate sight, shaking her head, inwardly hoping that the humans aren't home, and that the cat is asleep somewhere. The last thing she needs is some poor, inexperienced ants freaking out on her. She marches up the plank of wood and disappears through a hole in the trailer's aluminum siding. "Human? Cats?" gasps Basil as they continue up the ramp into the trailer. "I guess we don't have any choice, do we?" A hard swallow, accompanied by a longing expression is given to Walter, not expecting a more positive reply. "Um, how do we know if either of those things are around?" The grand scale of the object looming before him is still quite a part of his attention. "I've never heard of these 'Cats', are they really that dangerous?" "I don't know what a cat is," Walter admits, swallowing hard. "But I don't see how it can be worse than a human." He pauses just outside the hole in the silvery substance lining the trailer, his eyes darting this way and that to locate some sign of danger. "But... but I guess we really don't have a choice..." Trailer - Sink Cabinet The overpowering smell of detergent and bleach pervades this dark, muffled place. It's hard to move without bumping into something, which is bound to happen unless you can accustom your eyes to the darkness. A little bit of light trickles in from a crack just a ways ahead. Perhaps that's another way out of this place. Other places: [G]o into the light, [T]hrough the hole ... Terry is already well inside this dark, muffled area. The grasshopper's crouched form is silhouetted against light trickling in through some slit in the darkness a short distance away, which she appears to be watching intently. Her antennae twitch every so often, waiting. Walking into the trailer, Basil is unable to see what exactly is around him. He bumps into a couple of foreign objects, perhaps Walter and Terry, but his eyes manage to slowly adjust to the darkness. "Uh, guys? Are you here?" he asks biddingly, and soon finds his co-workers, as it were. "What /is/ all of the stuff in here?" Basil still finds it difficult to get a good bearing on his location. "Oof!" is the automatic response as Walter is bumped into. He slams heavily into a hard, cold, and slick substance -- a canister of some sort. Leaning a hand against it, he pants, gray-green eyes trying to focus on what is written on the side. "What..." Is that a dead roach emblazoned on the side? It doesn't take long for Terry to notice all this bumping around going on behind her. Her expression tightens into a scowl, which she attempts to train into a neutral expression as she turns about. Suddenly, her eyes widen as she notices what Walter is leaning against. "Get away from that!" she exclaims, her voice almost climbing into a yell. Basil notices the object Walter is standing next to, and is just about to go and investigate it for himself. He suddenly jumps back in a sudden jolt as he hears Terry's loud exclamation, then passing his eyes to Walter. A marked trembling in form and voice becomes evident as Basil asks, "What *is* that?" from as the apparent sound of panic in the grasshopper's exclamation. Yipe! Walter obediently withdraws from the mysterious thing with one leap as if it just bit him, a surprisingly energetic motion for a sore, half-starved ant like himself. He stands several inches away from the canister, eyes whipping from it to Terry, and back again, his hands twitching slightly. "Bug spray," Terry explains, her tone barely above a whisper. She regards the hateful container with a bitter glance, upper arms folding tightly. She almost leaves it at that, but remembers that if they don't even know what a cat is, then it's just as likely that they're ignorant about this deadly substance. "It's a kind of foul-smelling liquid that will kill you once your body comes in contact with it. It can be a mercifully quick death or a slow and painful one, depending on your endurance." "Uh...Thanks." A still trembing voice also whispers out of total shock. It would seem that the female hopper in fact *does* have the interests of the ants in mind. How odd and refreshing that is, to have someone with that kind of concern for both of them. Not to mention one that is typically a mortal enemy. Basil takes a long look, one that makes its way up toward the top, as far as the light with them allows. Another hard swallow is made, and now he realizes /just/ how dangerous a situation they are in. "Thanks for your concern, um, Terry, isn't it?" Walter begins to look a little pale at the mere mention of 'bug spray'. He rubs the side of his left arm distractedly, regarding the silver canister with new respect and fear as the grasshopper explains its nasty properties. "So the myths were real," he murmurs, more to himself than anything. "There really *was* a Garden Colony once..." He closes his eyes as he recalls the old story of his home colony, suppressing a shudder now that he sees and appreciates the truth in it. After a moment his eyes open at Basil's query, glancing at Terry as he awaits her response. "Well, hey, how would I be able to explain it to Gresham if I lost his new hires on the first day of work?" Terry says with a faint smirk, answering the question with a question. "Yeah... that's me," she confirms, nodding slowly at Basil. "And you are...?" A little taken back, is about the way to describe it. Basil had that suspicion in his mind, that this was mainly for her interests, and less for theirs, but at least it was protection. "Oh, my name is Basil." A hand is offered in a gesture of friendliness, a slight trembling reverberates throughout it. Then his mind goes back to another thought. But if she is only concerned for herself, then why did she offer that food back there? Was it to simply keep them productive? A typical grasshopper wouldn't have made such an offer, but kept the food for themselves, as they quickly learned from life in the city. Walter similarly feels a little taken aback, but not by much. Even after being given food, he didn't let himself feel too convinced of the grasshopper's charitableness. If a bigger insect isn't beating you upside the head, they probably have ulterior motives, or at least their own interests in mind. He simply nods in grim understanding at Terry's rejoinder. He doesn't offer his own name just yet, since he wasn't directly asked. He stands off to the side, arms folded, waiting for the sign that they should continue. Terry raises an eyeridge at the offered hand, perhaps unused to the formality, or some such thing. Reluctantly she grasps it in her sizable clawed hand, a brief, almost imperceptable shake given. She also seems to be getting impatient to move as soon as possible, and doesn't even prod Basil's companion for his own name. "It looks all clear outside. We should continue." Gripping her satchel, she begins to walk towards the light. As his hand is taken, Basil makes a small smile, hoping that this will aid in dispelling any animosity that might exist in Terry's mind about ants. They are going into a potentially life threatening situation and with an individual that could flatten you in one or two easy strokes, it would seem a prudent thing to do. But, yes, time is fleeting, and he only has so much strength, so the sooner they get out, the better. He follows the hopper toward the lighted area, feeling the oddity of the whole situation. Seeing that they are going to leave this dark area, Walter heaves a sigh and unfolds his arms, which then hang limply at his sides. "Here we go," he mutters to no one in particular, falling in step behind Basil as they follow the grasshopper to who-knows-where. [END LOG] Next log: First Night: Part II Return to: Muted Identity logs.

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