Mon DIEU (my god), this is repulsive!" Napoleon Chessaparte complained. Dirt and dust displayed tunnels with rails. Minecarts wheeled down, and humans wearing black silk watching down from glass panes barked orders. "FASTER, 0573, quit lollygagging and START MINING." With that call, Napoleon grumbled as he sulked back to mining, each pickaxe swing soiling his delicate suit. "How do ANY of you stand for this treatment?" Napoleon complained, staring at a pompous fat man in a blue shirt, a grey beard, and purple pants. "As a child, I yearned for the mines, I don't see/get your issue." With that failure, Napoleon gave yet another agonizing cry before slowly continuing to mine. A minecart rolled down, collecting the ores, before wheeling to another branch of the mines.
"This is boring." A person wearing a lavender hoodie complained. "Well, at least we are alive, Priscilla." Mirus reminded between pickaxe swings. "Alive, isn't everyone like that? Priscilla responded, setting down a silvery crystalline stone down onto a tray. "Uh, I didn't think this through." "What a crazy day, I went from almost being monsterbait to being a miner. I mean when we entered this place, there were some weird guys in lab coats doing some strange things, one seemed rather distracted but I dunno why. Anyways after, uh, hmm, whatever that was a guy pulled out a metal bat and that's how I got here." "Interesting." "Uh, ok." With a shrug, Priscilla returned to mining and soon, more clanking followed. "So, uh, what's your name?" "WHO ARE YOU I'M FROM ANCIENT GREEK-." "Okay, weirdo." Sticking out her tongue at the guy from ancient greek-, she actually continued mining for real.
"Attention, the raffle for promotion to science wing has begun. Those with their serial numbers called out, make your way to the white gate. Attempting to enter without the corresponding serial number will result in disciplinary action. With that said, here are the current drawings, 0481, 0375..." "Please, whatever holy deity hears this, please let me out of this disgraceful prison." Napoleon prayed. "...0572, 0574, and 0691. If your serial number has been called out, make your way to the white gate, it will remain open for one minute. "PREPOSTEROUS!" "Huh." "Omg!" "Sacré Bleu! You are telling me that me, the grand leader of France, was overlooked by two girls?!" "Don't sweat it, everybody goes eventually." "Who are you?" "Eh, people round here call me Uncle Sal. A name I embraced harder than a mother's hug. Well, I'd keep rambling, but I don't think they'd appreciate that, and these people look more blast than bite, let alone bark, if you know what I mean." said Uncle Sal, a rotund man with beige cargo pants, a buttoned light blue shirt, white hair, and a grin. "You know, my soiled suited friend, it was just like yesterday when my nephew and I were living it up in a bunker we constructed. He had this nice job plowing the fields and I was just doing odd job to help him out. One night, we were sleeping and the next thing we knew, we woke up in this place. Never found out where he went." "Well that's something, uh, don't you feel a little insulted by these conditions?" "That's what you call a hard day's work. Must be rather new here, too used to the city life?" "What? No-" "Eh it's fine, just playing around the donkey." "Well this donkey is going to strike with the might of a bear if you don't stop." "Stop what?" "Stop, uh, Arg!" With a carefree smile and a head shake Uncle Sal returned to mining. A warning shot invoked Napoleon to continue mining.
"Alright, step one, specimen collection." White walls were a welcome change to the stone and dirt that coated the mines. "What do you mean by specimen collection?" "What you need to know is we are going to perform some tests on you." The researcher answered, eyeing up Priscilla. First a swab was dabbed on her cheek, before being placed inside a container. Next, a syringe was removed, harvesting a blood sample. Lastly, removing her hood, a tweezer extracted a purple hair strand. "Wait here." The researcher left the door and began discussing something. Suddenly gunfire ripped through the window as loud explosions rocked the walls, equipment falling down. Seizing her chance , Priscilla ran out the room and went into the chamber next door. "Well lookie here, if it isn't my little red friend." "H-hey, I'm not that small." Mirus protested, walking up to Priscilla. Her retreat into a corner proved, infact, that she was shorter than Priscilla. "Like what I heard from those guys, size doesn't matter. What does tho is leaving this room. I dunno about you but I'd rather not return to the mines. Besides, I'm sure you can beat me, even if I get a headstart. See ya!" Priscilla dashed out of the room, and Mirus quickly followed in pursuit, a grin breaking out. "Okay, you asked for this."
Alert, mass breakout detected in the lab wing. Somebody stop them, geez, don't make me do it, I already have the role of sky god of the intercoms.* Flying papers and shattered tubes preceded the breakout. "Ah, it appears that more racers have joined, gotta meet up with one of them, built street rep or something idk. Hey you! Mr.""What." "You're on camera for the annual laboratory race, have anyone who you want to shout out to?" "What are you talking about, are you insane? I'm running for my life so I can regroup with my family at the mountain nearby, hope my fellow brethren stood strong enough. Like Mehmm'n, oh with his wisp, "Messa this, killsa that," what a stand up, hope I can talk to him again once I break out." "Interesting story, well, hope you have that family reunion." Priscilla concluded, waving goodbye to the figure who looked like a mix of goblin and pig.
"Doors locking, only way through is that man over there? No problem, and I go for it!" She slid underneath the lab worker's legs, through the steel door, and into a rusting hallway. "HEY, GEt ba..." "Yikes, too slow, gonna have to be faster if you don't want to retire. Here we come, the final lap and I'm at...SECOND?!" Priscilla now saw the red bolt in front of her. "Heh, never thought this would get this far, a few more hallways and we should be out." Mirus thought to herself, nabbing a scalpel and slashing the kneecaps of an armed guard, blitzing past the cries of agony. "Hey, you can't do that, that's against the rules!" "Then capture me. I mean y-" *bonk* "Now that's justice for, uh, hi there, overwhelming supermassive force of men with many kinds of advanced weaponry, and why hello there, guy with a metal bat, what are you going to be doing with tha-." *bonk*
If you are hearing this message, you defied our protocol and are now being executed. Though we'd normally use a firing squad, you two shall be killed from suffocation for first degree murder. In two minutes, take your final breath.* The recording echoed through the darkness. "Well, the best thing we can do now is take a seat." "That was the same metal bat too. I'M ANGRY! My anger is immeasurable." "I get what you are saying, but soon enough, you will understand." Silence gave an answer. "If that's the case, I need you to hold on to something, something to know me by. Hold on to my hand." Two cold hands gripped. *Oxygen levels zero, a clean up crew will arrive when someone feels like it.* ... "Is this death thing supposed to be this boring?" Priscilla questioned, breaking the silence through the darkness. "Besides, why are your hands that cold?" "No, where did you even get the concept of death?" "Huh?" "Don't you remember, we aren't human, and I guess a trinket of that is some things don't kill us, like a lack of oxygen, unlike that poor guy over there." Mirus admitted, pointing at the lifeless body of a human. "Besides, I should be asking you about your cold hands. Your hands betray who you are." "Wut?" "Nevermind." "Uh wanna leave?" Priscilla suggested. "I have a better alternative, wait for the cleanup crew and sneak out. I'll help you, first footwork, you start with the heel, then you..."
"You there! What's the best delicacy you've ever had? Well I can provide one that's ten fold! All you need to do is sign this here paper." "Eh, sorry Fr*nchman, but I'll pass." Napoleon then took a seat on the ground. "Eh, I never needed him anyways, from my calculations, using bribery with my baguettes, I've rallied upwards of one thousand people to join my revolution. I'd get more but for some reason these people with tea leaves refuse to assist me in my grand coup. Bah, I don't need those tea drinkers, guzzling down that filthy fluid. Once those guards show back up, like in the Battle of Marengo, I shall enact the Escargot Eviscerater, enveloping and ensuring my revenge!" *Claps* "I see the idea, but you put in more words in that there plan than there are grains of sand on a beach." "Ohoho! But I need such luxurious language to convey my cunning-" "Yup, good plan, I got it. Just hoping that you got it." Uncle Sal then walked back down to the mines.
By the break of midnight, when moonlight illuminated the caverns, as June rolled over, cries and bullets ricocheting across the soot were silenced. Minecarts spilled as doors were blocked with ores. *Okay, what the heck guys. First we have a breakout in the lab. Second, the mines go under revolt. Now there's this commando grade blue alien with this rather sick laser gun I mean-* The mines echoed with murmurs, confusion of what they'd just done. From the tallest dirt hill, Napoleon ascended to the peak. "Men, miners, memes, for far too long we have been repressed. However, just like King Louis the Sixteenth and his boat haired wife's tyranny, I shall end our captor's rule over us. No longer will we have to be subjected, with the swiftness of a panther, like the Battle of Lodi, I shall crush these foolish humans and tear down their monolith of oppression!" "It's morbin time." A voice spoke from the crowd. "YES! That's the spirit, now we shall begin the invasion. ATTACK!" With a crash, the rag tag team shuffled and shattered a wall.
"Don't make a sound." Corpses and stomping revealed an absolute failure. Guards donning tungsten armor and wielding machine guns and shoulder cannons swept through the crowd, leaving not a single survivor. These Sweepers pulled out scythes and eviscerated the bodies, then marched out of the scene, leaving behind a hallway perfectly clean. In the lowest path of the mines, covering the mouth of a wide eyed bald miner, Napoleon was hiding behind a minecart. "Incompetent army, died to four glorified steel cubes. Incompetent generals, besides, who idea was it to charge directly at those monsters in a rush?" "That would be you." "SILENCE! It was obviously the fault of my generals, not mine." "Okay, okay, can I go now?" "No." With a gunshot, Napoleon was alone with his failure, a tea leaf falling down to the floor.