Hello there. It's been a while, hasn't it? Thanks to Izzy, though, I've been asked (see: threatened) to continue writing "BPRD: The Insectoid Man." To be honest, I really don't want to continue that story anymore; I lost sight of the plot and it'd be too much pointless effort trying to corral and rewrite the chapters. Instead, I'm going to be writing something new – think of it as a companion fiction to Izzy's fanfic "Welcome to the Masquerade," except this will be focusing solely on Gregory's side of the story.
If you have no clue what I'm talking about right now, I suggest you go and read "Welcome to the Masquerade," as well as my previous story "BPRD: The Insectoid Man." If you've already read both – ride on, adventurous reader.
{—)K
The rain poured down outside; each drop of water pummeled the sodden ground and made a soft tapping noise, followed by a small splash as another raindrop fell into the tiny puddle it left behind. A cold, wet wind blew and drove the liquid projectiles against the side of an abandoned, silent warehouse. Windows darkened, the squat gray box of a building resigned itself to its preordained soaking and stood peacefully, without creaking or shuddering in the face of the storm. The roof held up, though rain still managed to leak in through half-opened windows and pool in small lakes within the building.
Inside the cold, damp confines of the warehouse, shapes moved in the inky darkness and climbed over one another, scraping and clicking quietly to one another. The faint tapping of the rain on the roof and the eerie moaning of the wind melded with the chittering; a rhythmic drone was produced. A bright flash of lightening lit up the space momentarily, revealing antennae that flicked lazily and claws that scratched at tile and other living things. The cold burst of whitish light also brought the faces of the things into sharp focus; black eyes stared at the outside environment, devoid of expression and movement.
The buzzing shifted in pitch and rose up to something like a drawn-out wail as wicked, hardened mandibles folded in against the sudden clap of thunder that followed. The monstrous shapes pressed closer together, wishing for the fear to go away. It didn't.
Why they were all here, none of them knew. Whatever sounds they made that cut like knives into the mindless buzzing couldn't adequately describe the feeling that had drawn them here, the same feeling that nudged at some dark corner of them and assured them that things were fine now – they were here, in this place, although they knew not where it was or why they had come here. Seeking answers and comfort, they bunched together in the center of the building, huddling together for warmth and the reassurance that something else was here in the darkness.
The wail died down into a lower, collective moan and then broke apart into soft clicking sounds. Somewhere in the pile of armored bodies, a shrill keen of something akin to sorrow split the silence creeping in on it; a short scuffle broke out in the darkness. Something else cried out as well, this time out of pain instead of sadness, and both squeaking voices faded away. The group pressed closer until they were almost one body, feeling fused with feeling, flesh against flesh, fear and bewilderment too fresh and raw for words doled out equally between them all.
The rain kept on pouring down.
{—)K
Orange and swollen, yet somehow more reassuring than the rain clouds it parted, the sun wearily trudged up into the sky. Stay beams of light found their way into the building and set to work drying up the scattered puddles inside; others scurried across the filthy ground and alighted on the ones who had sought refuge there. They were slumped together, silent and unmoving save for the stray flick of an antennae or the clicking of mouthparts.
A bird flew into the warehouse, its wings beating furiously and sounding impossibly loud in the stillness of the space. It landed on a nearby table and hopped across its top, beady black eyes bright as it scanned the wooden surface for food. Unbeknownst to the poor creature, another pair of black eyes also scanned that area for food – and found it.
Hissing, primal and high-pitched, alerted the bird to the danger just a second too late; a brown blur leapt onto the table and snatched the feathery form up. With mandibles that were seemingly unaccustomed to the activity, it tore into the small, plump body and wrestled the food back into its throat, and from there into its stomach. Meanwhile the table groaned under the unexpected addition of weight and finally sounded its death-knell, legs folding in and
cracking in two.
The commotion brought the rest of the group out of their stupor. They surrounded the one who had already fed and chattered hungrily, the sound growing louder by the second – the smell of blood and the sight of small chucks of flesh were almost too much to bear. Though everything else might have been foreign to them, the lust for nourishment, for tearing into something and eating it, was as real as it could be. The one who was sated could dimly recognize this; hastily they cleaned their mandibles and turned from one of their fellow refugees to the other, as if looking for the food that it had just consumed.
One of them, further in the back and closer to the door, clicked and stalked over to a wall opposite the table – a scent had caught their attention. Six clawed, armored feet clattered against the floor and met the plaster of the other surface. Gripping it, they hoisted the football-shaped body up and up until they reached their intended goal: the bird's nest, now unguarded and blissfully full of things that were white and hard and food.
One claw caught hold of the nest and yanked it back, sending the eggs flying. They crashed to the ground and cracked open, spilling clear and yellow fluid on the dirty surface. Before the one who had retrieved them could skitter over to the food, it had been smeared into a thin layer of inedible mess by the eager jaws of its fellows; angrily it hissed at them and was hissed at in return. This was not good. There had to be more food out here. Was that why they were here, for food?
Antennae clicked and the open space from which the first food had emerged grabbed their attention. An unspoken agreement was struck.
{—)K
One last note before I go off to work on the next chapter – school and my various responsibilities (aka online roleplay games) may sidetrack me over the course of this fanfiction. Reviews encourage me, but don't be afraid to give me a kick in the ass through PM or comments if there's an unusually long gap between updates. Otherwise, I'll try to post at least one chapter every week. Hopefully.
Until then,
-Zipper Whippersnapper
