What is One Rat's Life Worth?

Morticon:

Derrek the Aardvark was working late halloween night, a Friday.  He was at 
his desk at TechiCorp, a small little company which was next door to 
Demorguen's The House, a do-it-yourself morgue.  The idea always creeped him 
out, but it was legal.  Anyway, he had to get his part of the project 
finished by Monday or he'll be fired!
 
The moon was full outside, and everyone else was having fun with parties and 
candy, but not for Derrek.  "Halloween!  Bah!"  he thought, "That's just for 
litle kids."  He grinned, pouring himself into the computer, finishing the 
important documents.  "I should be done half past midnight" he sighed with 
relief... growing comfy in his cube....  when.....
 
Tarka:
 
There was a thump on the far side of the room. It sounded like a box falling 
over and files getting spilled. Derrek flicked his tongue out in annoance and 
went back to work. Someone else must be a few cubes down also work on a last 
minutes project. "At least I'm not the only one stuck here tonight." He 
focused on his computer again.
 
*THUMP!* something hit the other side of the cube divider and made him jump! 
"Hey... watch it over there. I'm trying to work!" Damn people didn't know 
when to keep quiet and just get the job done. He gleared at the wall when a 
pink annenna lifted up over the top of it. "What the fuck."
 
Terry:
 
"Gleep!" came an odd voice from over the wall, and the sounds of insectoid 
legs scurrying. Derrek sighed, and went back to work. "Damn it, Jimmy, I've 
got work to do. Stop being such an immature brat and let me work."
 
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something large and pink scramble over 
the wall into his cubicle with him, but he resolved to ignore it. This 
paperwork wasn't going to file itself! And the wiki... all sorts of halloween 
jokes to scrub from the wiki. He grumbled again when whoever it was started 
making their costume's mandibles gnaw on his shell, but ignored it and 
continued working.
 
That is, he grumbled when whoever it was started making their costume's 
mandibles gnaw on his *expensive suit*, but didn't think they'd actually be 
able to damage it. Costumes today were child-safe, after all.
 
WalksFar:
 
"I've had it with your crap!  Can't you let me work and take yer stupid jokes 
outside where they belong?
 
 He whirled and froze.  Instinct took over.  He shrieked and clambered 
backwards over his work bench, toppling the monitor to the carpet as he  
hurled himself over the wall into an empty cubicle and ran down the aisle 
between them.  Panic took him to an open elevator and he was well on his way 
up in the high rise before his mind had the chance to mull over the impossibil-
ity he had seen.  It was no costume . . . nothing that elaborate could exist 
. . . no, it was something else . . . something crawled up through the cracks 
in Hell to find its way into his reality.  "SHIT!"  He was going the wrong 
way.  He hadda get out of there . . . escape into the night away from work  
away from where it could find him.
 
Morticon:
 
Derrek had accidently hit the top floor button, and for some reason the 
elevator didn't accept any other buttons when it got moving.  "Don't panic" 
he told himself... and he panted slowly... watching the lights take him far 
away from whatever that was.
 
With a ding, the elevators opened, and he couodn't believe his eyes!  He was 
on a white fluffy cloud, with some large pearly gates in front of him.  "Heh, 
wrong floor."  He quickly pressed the ground floor button before anything 
wierd could come from there, too.  The elevator speed downward.  When it 
opened on the first floor....
 
Tarka:
 
There was a black gate... and darkness seemed to swirl around in the 
background... a red glow and warmth touched his face and he frantically hit 
other bottons. Slowly he worked his way up the buttons... the doors closes 
after a while... cutting off the site... untell he got to his own floor... 
the elevator moved.
 
He got to the floor and the pink thing was waiting for him... sitting on the 
floor a few feet away from the open doors. "Hello Darrekk. You have three 
optiobns. I trust that you have found them all?"
 
Terry:
 
"I don't suppose this one represents 'getting my damn job done'," he 
grumbled. Looking around, although he tried not to, he could tell that what 
was once his office was now completely overrun with an assortment of 
pastel-colored insects, which were rapidly disassembling the cubicles and 
computers, when they weren't fighting the insects of other colors.
 
"If that's the only thing you care about, then this *is* the option you 
should pick," the creature whirred at him. "You might find fulfillment as one 
of us."
 
Suddenly, startlingly, all the bugs in the room turned to stare at Derrek at 
once. "One of us! One of us! One of us!" they started chanting, in a 
horrifying chorus of buzzy insect voices.
 
WalksFar:
 
 "One of YOU?  Wot the hell are you?  Ya can't be insects.  No . . . 
impossible.  Three options?  My reality?  Your reality?  What's the third?  
Hell? "  He stared at the pink monstrosity.  "What's the attraction?  Why 
whouls I join you?  Why me?"
 
Morticon:
 
The pink... thing.. Pepto, Derrek called him, but not to its face, laughed.  
"Because you have chosen to ignore the holiday of the ancients!  When dark 
magic is at its strongest!  We're not here to teach you about it, this is 
simply your punishment.  Pick one of the three, or the fourth should you 
prefer"  Pepto guestured to where the morgue's entrance was, way down the 
hall.
 
Derrek gulped.  Was it worth trying to finish his work while shooing off 
those things?  What did they mean by 'one of us?'  Were they once like him?  
He decided not to find out.  Of the three remaining choices, the fourth 
seemed the safest.  How bad could a bunch of stiffs be?  Besides, he heard 
they had a special cargo elevator... maybe he could escape!  As Pepto began 
to laugh, he trudged off towards DeMorguen's The House....
 
Tarka:
 
Darrekk walked though the nightmare area that was his office... blue green 
and pink creatures running around all around him working at taking things 
appart... they seemed to avoid his own office though... for that at least he 
was greatful... only he didn't know why. He stepped into the morgue and 
looked around.... nothing could be as bad as what he has seen before.
 
Someone was talking in th eother room... back to the cargo elevator... so he 
headed that way... maybe he could talk with someone else. He walked in and 
stopped again.
 
"I hate my life. I mean... all this decocomposing thing really drives me 
nuts."
 
"I know what you mean joe... this is so demeaning."
 
The bodys of the dead were sitting around... complainning endlessly about 
things. 
 
Terry:
 
Darrek paused for a few seconds, then decided to ignore them and just take 
the elevator. Maybe they wouldn't notice him?
 
"Hey, one of the living's trying to take the elevator, bob. Think we should 
stop him?" one of the bodies lying on a slab between Derrek and his goal 
muttered.
 
"Eh, I really don't care," a body behind him muttered. "It's not like eating 
his brains would actually be filling."
 
"Fine, fine, make me do all the work," said the body near the elevator, which 
slowly started to stand up, its head listing at an impossible angle while its 
limbs twitched jerkily. It staggered towards him... and he screamed, folded 
his arms over his face, and charged past it.
 
He felt squishy rotting flesh bounce off his arms, and then he slammed into 
the elevator gate. Grabbing the handle, he yanked the freight elevator open, 
and before the zombie could recover, flung himself to safety.
 
Yes, there was no way the zombies were going to follow him into the open 
elevator shaft.
 
WalksFar:
 
 Derrek tumbled end over end, his own scream accompanying him as gravity, 
suspended, left him nauseous and disoriented until . . . CRUNCH!  He came to 
a halt in darkness.  Was this the end . . . other than a dull ache, he was 
quite . . . alive.  What did he hit?  His hands sought the ground beneath him 
and found it spongy to to the touch.  Spongy?  Like moss . . . fungus . . . a 
forest floor.  He got to his feet and stood in the absolute darkness.  "ALL 
RIGHT!  I am through with you jokers.  Ancient Holiday or not . . . I have 
work to finish.  FUCK all this!!"
 
Morticon:
 
He looked and listened.  Quiet, moist, dank, and full of fungi...  this is 
either a wierd forest or the underused basement.  He decided it was a 
basement, and wandered out... much to be proved wrong!  While dark, he could 
make out trees.  A soft wind blew.  Above him was the elevator shaft, the 
zombie trying to figure out the latch with no success. "Joe!  Help me out 
here!"  he yelled.  Derrek ran off into the darkness, his nose and paws 
feeling the way.... tree after tree...
 
He thought it would never end.  Finally, he came across something that was 
not a tree.  It was firmer, and it felt.. like a door!  Salvation!  He 
quickly opened the squeaky thing, and found...
 
Tarka:
 
A mirror..... he looked at himself and reallized... that he haddn't noticted 
that his suit was gone and replace by fur and paws and a face with beedy 
little eyes. His whiskers just twitched tentivile before him and he moanned.. 
"Oh wonderful... the rat race." He closed that door and started to look for 
another way out... using his nose and paws to find his way in the dark 
room... only now that he thought about it... there shouldn't have been any 
light at all. His mind was too used to strange sights to freak out again at 
being a rat.
 
Terry:
 
Derrek didn't have to wander far to find the limits of the room he was in. 
The trees and fungus were gone, replaced by metal bars all around and a soft 
layer of woodchips beneath. It was too dark to see, but feeling around he 
found a large water bowl, and another full of pellets of some bland food.
 
"NoooO! Let me out!" he shouted, "I have work to do!" But the door was firmly 
latched shut, and although he tried to reach through and undo it, it was too 
complicated for him to figure out. He ran around in circles, knocking over 
the bowls and spraying sawdust everywhere, and screaming in angry and 
frustration, but it did him no good. Despite all his rage, he was still just 
a rat in a cage.
 
WalksFar:
 
 He clung to the bars desperate to escape.  Beyong, movement caught his gaze. 
 Humans!  Huge . . . no, he was a rat in a cage.  These were . . . NO!  He 
squeaked in horror.  They wore white lab coats.  One of them picked up his 
cage and brought it to a table. where the other opened the cage and dragged 
him, struggling out.  He was pinned down, spread eagle.  One of the giant 
reasearchers  picked up a surgical scalpel.
 
"Get it ready for the implant.  We need to succeed this time or else.  How 
many have we lost?"
 
 Derrek screamed and to  his right, the pink abomination appeared.  "Nice 
choice ya made.  Rat race.  Tis all yours!"  And it wandered off to leave him 
to his apparent fate. . . .