AvL – Chapter 2
The Alien's head swayed back and forth as he followed his prey's scent. Not that it was difficult – the prey smelled of unwashed foulness and fear. It was if they had never come in contact with a refreshing slime bath.
Reuben huffed to himself, still upset at the goblins. "Look at this one, Nigel. Here's another bright one, 'eh?" The Alien hissed in surprise. He hadn't sensed any prey close by, but the booming voice was right at his elbow. "What is it – opposite day?" The other False Alarms laughed in appreciation of his joke. "See here, if you want to get to the castle, then you're going the wrong way."
The Alien hissed again, his toothed tongue sticking out to taste the air. The deep baritone voices resonated right though to his chest, and though he was grateful that the voices didn't scream, he knew he was going to have to kill the voices anyway. More prey would survive if they would just shut up, he groused to himself.
"Here! Wot's that? Look at that - he swallowed the Worm!" The False Alarms murmured in horror at the sight of what they thought was a struggling Worm. They liked the Worm – he was always inviting them to tea, and his missus made the most excellent cakes and crumpets. In his deepest voice, Nigel boomed down to the creature that had eaten their friend. 'DON'T GO ON – you vile murderer! Just wait 'til I tell his Majesty! MAKE A RUN FOR IT WORM!"
The Alien had had enough – his bipedal prey was slow enough and smelly enough that he would be able to find them again swiftly enough, but now it was time to kill the voices. Snarling, he jumped at the one with the booming voice, clawing and biting at it.
"AIEE!! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" The False Alarms raised their voices in alarm, demanding that the creature retreat on pain of Horrible Death, though they weren't quite sure how to get Horrible Death down to the tunnels (he was awfully claustrophobic, poor bugger.) In the midst of the bedlam Reuben had the presence of mind to shout for the Cleaners, claiming that there was a bit of debris that needed to be swept away, and soon a distant rumbling could be heard from the other end of the tunnel. The Alien hissed as it turned towards the clattering racket that seemed to be getting closer. He could feel the vibrations in his clawed feet – whatever it was, it was heavy. He would have to find a better place to ambush it than here. With a final sneer to the False Alarms, he ran off.
The False Alarms craned their eyes to get a look at Nigel's now-scarred face; Reuben was almost envious. "Humph. Not bad. I think it makes you look distinguished-like."
Nigel considered that, and then asked, "Yeah? You think so?"
If Reuben could nod, he would have. "Oh yeah. Definitely. Like you got an air of dangerous mystery about you – like John Steed, but with a scar." The other Alarms chimed in agreement. Reuben sniffed with a hint of disappointment. "Wish I had a scar like that."
A loud, rusty scraping noise grew louder as the Alien waited impatiently in the shadows. He was reasonably sure that whatever was rumbling would be large, and so would likely be a prey worth taking on. Not like these reeking, squashed bipeds he'd been chasing around. If the prey was large enough (and cleaner), he just might set about to creating a new colony for himself. Who knows – if he was lucky, the new Queen won't be as much of an idiot as his former Queen was. No self-respecting Queen would've allowed herself to be captured and held in chains for centuries, much less a day. Honestly, he didn't know how she kept her job.
The Alien crouched as the noise came closer, his hopes for a worthy and sizable prey rising, only to be dashed as finally saw the contraption making the clattering noise. It was haphazardly made, and looked nothing so much like a rotating set of tarnished knives plowing through the tunnels. He should've known that a place with talking rocks and stinking bipeds wouldn't have anything worthy of his talents. With a frustrated screech he leapt upon the contraption, clawing and biting at it, hoping against hope that there was something kill-worthy inside it.
Tou and Frou pedaled along the corridor, oblivious to the danger ahead of them. They were in another one of their endless arguments, this time over whether roast crow-meat tasted better with the Mostly Brown Broth or the Almost Black Gravy. It was a very passionate argument, and it was only because they were so dedicated to their Cleaning job that they hadn't come to blows yet. That, and fear that his Highness would send them to clean out the bottom of the Bog of Eternal Stench if they ever stopped pedaling. So it was that they were taken by surprise when the Thing jumped onto their Cleaning Machine with a shriek shrill enough to rival a two-year old's temperamental cries (and they should know, seeing as how his Highness always seemed to have two or three of them crawling around his castle at any one time.)
"Blimey, wot's that thing?" Frou cried in surprise. Tou didn't get much chance to answer, as the Thing grabbed him in its jaws and flung him to the ground. Or would have, if his armor hadn't gotten caught in the Thing's teeth.
"AAAIIEE!! 'Elp! 'elp, e's got me!" The Alien shook his head, trying to dislodge the goblin from his teeth. It tasted horrible! The armor was coated with some kind of foul tasting fungus, and it was reacting to his own mouth-slime. Within seconds the Alien's mouth was foaming terribly. And it itched.
Frou hesitated, torn between his fear of reprisal if he stopped pedaling the now broken machine and the need to help Tou. All that waving about wouldn't be good for Tou's back – if he wasn't arguing about food or which tunnel to Clean next, he was complaining about his back. Pity won out, and Frou jumped…well, fell…off the Cleaning Machine.
"'Ey mate, you just can't go chomping on a goblin loik that wi'out warning. It just ain't done." Frou grabbed Tou's arms and pulled while the Thing placed a hind foot against the squirming Tou and pushed. "You got's to gives us a fair chance you know," he continued.
"Come on, pull harder," Tou complained. "Ow ow! Not that hard, you sack of gravy! Watch out for my back."
Frou ignored him, and continued to lecture the Thing. It was obvious no one told the Thing the rules, and he was feeling very put out that it was left to him to explain things to him. "Jumpin' out at us loik that is unfair – what if there was others ahead of you? We got a lot of tunnels to clean, and I'm willin' t' bet that you didn't even fill out the Goblin Form 26A, subsection 17 ½, paragraph 3 didja? You got to wait at least a week until you gets the forms back. We're just the Cleaners you know, we don't make the rules."
With a final pull, Tou popped out of the Things mouth. He fell heavily on Frou, who shoved him off with a grunt. Tou sat up and gazed forlornly at his ruined armor. "Look at that! Do you know 'ow long it took me to grow that fungus? Two years! Cor, waits until I tells His Majesty!"
The Alien wasn't listening, however. He was scraping his face against the stone wall, trying to scour the itchy foam from his jaws. The slimy foam was beginning to discolor the damp stones. Tou scrambled to feet, angry. "'Ere now – stop that! I'm not going to clean that up!"
Frou, still lying on the ground, scratched his head. "Ey, Tou. There's summat different about ya."
Tou paused, then slowly nodded with a grin. Cautiously he bent his knees. "'Ey, you're roight. My back! It don't hurts no more!" He bent to the side just to make sure, but no…he didn't get that painful twinge he usually got. With a laugh he slapped the Thing in a show of grateful camaraderie. "Thanks mate! It feels much better now!" He turned his friend Frou, and said with an air of authority, "I knows wot this fella is! 'E's one o' them traveling choreographers!"
Frou stood up and regarded the Thing doubtfully. "You mean 'chiropractors'?" Tou waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, maybe that too. Listen fella, whatever you wants I'll do it for ya. I mean it, just says the word and I'll getcha!"
A loud crash and the rumble of falling debris stopped him from launching into a list of things he'd do for his newfound friend. The tunnel filled with dust, and Frou cringed. His Majesty wasn't going to like this. The Cleaning Machine had continued on its way, but without guidance from the Cleaners it had drilled its way through the stone wall.
Frou looked at Tou with fear-filled eyes. "I'm not cleaning that up," he said as bright yellow sunlight flooded the tunnel.
The Alien, desperate now to escape these nasty, confusing bipeds that made his mouth itch took his chance and ran out into the light.