-- Chapter Eight: History at Your Doorstep --
                                
                         "War is Hell."
                                   -- General Sherman

     Things were quiet, for a change.
     Hitter leaned back in his chair, sorting through what was happening
throughout the complex. Sand was at the Jar Chamber, such as it was, taking care of
the inept guards as ordered. Washboard was no doubt still moaning about Ruth -- he
hadn't let up since he first learned the news. Still, as long as he didn't let it
interfere with his job, Hitter didn't care. Grater and Brickhouse were working with
the troops, getting them ready for the next crack at the hospital. Hitter figured
that since the hospital already had the accessible tunnels ready, and since it was
a good chance the staff wouldn't have the back-ups repaired yet, that they could
probably just try to start up Operation Infest again from there. Maybe as soon as
tomorrow.
     He clasped his hands in front of him and leaned forward, resentment still
floating within him. To have come so far, worked so long, and gained so much only
to be served a total defeat. It was appalling. To be truthful, however, Hitter recognized
how delicate his grasp over everyone was, aside from the fanatics. Otherwise, he
was merely feeding off of the years of degradation and suffering of the millions of
insects under his command. They all had been through trying times -- though not
nearly as horrid as his own -- but very few of them were actual fighters. It truly
did seem, at times, that this was nature's course; that some higher power had set 
all of the insects to serve out their lives in their appointed caste. Hitter, though, 
couldn't see a reason for it. Why should insects serve out their lives as slaves when 
it was clear to him they could easily be the masters?
     Of course, while the other insects were enthusiastic about this idea, it was
evident that their devotion diminished dramatically when victory was not handed to them
as easily as it had been in the past. The take-overs during Rally Night had been easy --
they had had the advantage of surprise, and had used it to the hilt with their superior
numbers. Even the occasional skirmishes since then had been that difficult, as the
animals were always too small in numbers to be a real threat -- most had either been
captured already or frightened away. And they should have come out clear winners
at the hospital, too, but someone had prevented that from happening. It grated him
to think it might indeed have been Zipper. As much respect for the spirited fly as
Hitter had, the thought of insubordination was paramount in his mind. Insects follow
easily -- they see an authority figure doing something, and follow the lead. Hitter's
lead was to strike out, and they followed, as he expected. Zipper's lead, however,
was certainly not what Hitter wanted any other insect to emulate. Fortunately, the
unbroken string of Swarm's victories had kept the masses too enthralled with the
feeling of power to see Zipper's side of things. Now, they were unsure and
confused. He could get them all back in order, no doubt, but they were vulnerable
at the moment -- he couldn't afford the risk of losing them. Another victory had 
to happen, and the one at the hospital would be perfect. It would prove that not 
only was Swarm strong and resilient enough to bounce back so soon, but also would
show that organized insects could easily topple the giants around them. If only 
those blasted bats hadn't interfered!
     The defeat at the hospital was just the first hammer to fall, though. The
escape of an entire concentration camp in some throw-together contraption was also
a blow to his followers' collective ego. And that was not even counting the destruction 
of the Jar Chamber, which, fortunately, was not public knowledge. Nevertheless, the recent
events had shaken his troops' faith. They still believed in Swarm, but no longer saw
themselves as unstoppable -- and that simply would not do. If he was to succeed in
proving to the world what insects were capable of, the followers had to always be
ready and willing to sacrifice themselves in the pursuit of Hitter's goals.
     He ran his hands over his bare head, resting them on the back of his neck as
he thought about it all. He glanced at Chip's fedora lying peacefully on his desk,
on top of all the papers. It was battered and worn, but like the Rangers, still
standing.
     Hitter's fist slammed down on top of it, crumpling it like a napkin.

                         *     *     *

     "Unit one, checking in," Monterey's voice announced, holding a trace of
excitement. Gadget wasn't sure if it was from the upcoming storming of Swarm's
HQ or the fact that he was getting to drive the Magic APC this time around.
     Unit two checked in with some confirming squeaks from Zipper.
     Unit three, likewise, was announced as ready by Zinger's buzzes.
     "Unit four, checking in," Chip's voice came in, and Gadget smiled. She could
tell by the slight waver in his voice that he was still adjusting to being flown 
around by a bat, hanging from its grip on his shoulders.
     "Red five, standing by!" Dale's voice rang out with a laugh.
     "Does this mean we need to call Foxglove 'R2'?" Tim asked offhandedly.
     "Don't encourage him, Tim," Chip's voice advised.
     "Point. Unit six, checking in," Tim's voice responded. Gadget could tell that
he was grinning, as well.
     "Unit seven, checking in," Tammy's voice said, giggling a bit at the previous
comments.
     "Unit eight ready," another voice announced. A surprising number of
previous captives had volunteered to help out on this mission. As Monterey had
guessed, once it was shown that the insects *could* be defeated, the anger most held
from their imprisonment burned through the barrier of fear Hitter had managed to
carefully construct.
     Units nine through fifteen were also called in as ready from volunteers from
the former prison camp.
     "Unit sixteen, checking in," Queenie's voice still sounded full of elegance,
and Gadget could've sworn she heard Zipper melting over on his end.
     Gadget nodded to herself and checked the layout plans next to her. There
were about ten camps, including the one she, Monterey, and Tim had been in -- they
had included that one in case Hitter had moved some of the prisoners to that area.
The Wells Colony were in position under them all, having made slanted tunnels
directly below the surface which all emptied out onto the ledge of the sewer below.
All the ants had to do when the signal was given was to break through the surface,
and then hold the perimeter while the prisoners were ushered out. To make sure that
the prisoners weren't afraid to exit through an ant tunnel, each group of
tunnelworkers had a small contingent of rodents, to calm the prisoners and move
them to the escape route.
     The plans didn't call for any real combat at these areas, because by the time
the signal was given, Swarm would be too busy with a serious breach of their
headquarters.
     Crossing her fingers, Gadget swallowed for a moment, well aware she was
about to give the order which, if the plan failed, could result in the deaths of a
great many people.
     "Prepare for Operation FogBomb."
     A silent prayer, and then she spoke clearly with a voice of confidence.
     "Go."

                         *     *     *

     "Hawkmen, dive!"
     Chip glanced up at the bat who was carrying him, the leader of this bat clan,
named Rufus. "You've seen 'Flash Gordon' too many times."
     "Hey, you've seen it too?" Rufus chuckled.
     "With Dale in the house, it's not an option."
     Rufus grinned as he followed the first half of the bat attack, diving towards
the large, main entrance of the Swarm complex. The guards at the posts actually
outnumbered the incoming bats, but any insect's first instinct upon spotting these
efficient predators is to scatter. A fair number managed to fight off the urge, but
the confusion was sufficiently entrenched for the bat squadron to be able to
fully exploit it.
     The driving wedge of winged mammals easily punctured the guards' hastily thrown-
together defense, allowing a large number of them through, diving further
into the compound to distract and engage the opposition. Also in this group were
Chip and Rufus, as well as Dale and Foxglove.
     Dale grinned, turning to face Chip as they sped along the tunnels. "Split up,
and see if you can take some of those Tie Fighters with you!"
     Chip just slapped a hand to his forehead in response. The two pairs split up,
each heading off in a different direction. They each had five camps to verify, and
no time to waste. Every second counted.
     Dale and Foxglove followed in the wake of Foxglove's comrades, the insects
they passed either stunned or running away from anything that was flying and had
fur.
     "There's one!" Dale exclaimed, pointing as they emerged in a large cavern. A
prison camp was below, the mice within looking up and pointing in awe. "Got that,
Gadget?"
     "Got it, Dale," Gadget replied, back in the Ranger Relay Station. "One down,
nine to go."
     "We've spotted the first one, too," Chip reported.
     "Good, keep it up guys. Or keep them up, bats. Up in the air, I mean."
     Tim covered the microphone of his headset, speaking to Orkin. "Are they
sure that they'll be able to reach all the camps in time?"
     "No sweat," Orkin nodded. "Each one is heading behind those bat blockers,
and they're all flying in a path that'll cross every camp on the list in short time.
Those bats can move, even when carrying chipmunks, you'd better believe it."
     They both looked up at the tunnels' ceiling as running feet and muffled shouts
could be heard.
     "Yeah," Tim replied, "looks like one of them just did a fly-by here, too." He
uncovered his microphone. "Gadget, how's the tally coming?"
     In the Van, Gadget was busily tracing the scouts routes. "Fast, Tim. They've
already confirmed seven camps--"
     "Eight!" Dale's voice announced. "We just passed another one. On our way
to the last place!"
     "Roger that, Dale," Gadget said, "All other units ready?"
     A chorus of "ayes" replied almost in unison.
     "There's the last one!" Dale cried out. "All done -- Foxy and me are gonna
land now, and get our masks on."
     "The other bats leadin' 'em through are already exitin'," Monterey noted
from his position, a little ways off from one of  the rear exits. "Some of the
blokes guardin' it are tryin' to put up a fight, but most are lettin' the bats go.
Makes sense; why would they want 'em to stick around, seein' as how they'll be
likely to eat the guards as an after-battle snack?"
     "Well," Gadget commented, "actually, the bats aren't eating anyone this time
through, just to be sure they don't mistake one of Queenie's bees or some ant from
the Wells Colony for an enemy."
     "Our last camp is also verified," Chip's voice called in, and Gadget noted that
it was the one she and the others had escaped from. "It's empty, too. I guess Hitter
didn't want to move any prisoners yet. The group that was going to hit this one can
go below and wait for the others to arrive at the sewers. We're landing and
deploying the gas masks."
     "All units, move in!" Gadget commanded. Here we go, she thought.
     "Good thing, too," Queenie's voice noted. "From my position, the second
half of the bat force is moving in. I sure hope you're right about those fogbombs,
Gadget."
     "Not to worry, Queenie," Gadget assured her. "I blended each of those very
carefully. It'll make them sick and weak, but that's it -- they still should be able
to get out. That should clear out the compound pretty quick."
     "Then how come we gotta wear these masks?" Dale's muffled voice asked,
apparently having already placed his on.
     "Dale, the chemical mixture will affect you and any mammals as well. The
prisoners and the bats will be out of there before it has a chance to affect them,
but you, Chip, Foxglove, and Rufus are going to be in there for a bit yet. We don't
want to take any chances."
     The second wave of bats caused even more confusion, especially as a number
of them flew in separate clusters, each wielding a large, aerosol-type can. They
moved to their predesignated locations, uncapped the cans, and flew off towards the
nearest exit. Behind them, the cans spewed forth a thick, white cloud of fumes,
which quickly spread through the confined spaces.

                         *     *     *

     "Where are Sand and Washboard?!" Hitter demanded to Brickhouse and
Grater. The two large insects could only shrug.
     "We've been training the troops for the next attack," Brickhouse explained.
"We haven't seen either of them since we started."
     "They might have already been hit," Grater said lowly, remembering how
sudden and effective the bats had been last time.
     "Never mind!" Hitter screeched, seeing his entire grand plan slowly unraveling
before his very eyes. The hordes of insects around the complex were panicking.
Some were trying to fight, some were trying to figure what was going on, but most
were trying to flee. Only the steadfast warriors were sticking it out right now,
lined up behind him and his two advisors.
     "The bats are all over the place," Brickhouse grumbled. "They--"
     He was cut off as a squad of bats burst in, startling the whole cavern of
insects. The troops, as well as the trio of leaders, were taken aback even more as
the bats, not even stopping, dropped a large canister which was shooting out opaque,
white gases. The bats expertly spun the bottle as they dropped it, quickly spreading
the gas throughout the room. They were gone through the other side before any of
the troops could react, and already the whole area was starting to be covered in a
strange, sickening fog.
     "It's some sort of poison!" Grater coughed in alarm.
     "No matter!" Hitter yelled in reply. The fumes didn't seem to be bothering
him. "After those bats! I want their skins for this intrusion!" He rushed onward
through the fog, quickly disappearing from view. Brickhouse was about to follow,
but Grater held him back.
     "Forget it! Hitter's system may be strong enough to resist the effects, but
ours ain't!" He hacked a bit as he tried to speak again. "Troops!" he yelled
through the enshrouding mist, "head for the exits!"
     The gathered insects needed no further encouragement as they made a break
for the passageway leading towards the outside, leaving Hitter to rush deeper into
the complex alone.

                         *     *     *

     "Look!"
     Everyone in the camp turned to see the fog rolling in from the side tunnel.
The guards, already swarming about near the roof because of the bats which had flown
through earlier, flew towards it to investigate, while others hung back, to make
sure no new bats came flying in from the other passages.
     Their attention diverted elsewhere, they didn't see the small hole cave in
within the compound, and a number of rodents hop out, followed by a large cluster
of ants. The prisoners might have given it away, except for the rodents there,
assuring them everything was all right.
     "Trust me," Tim said to them as they hesitantly drew closer to him. "These
ants are on our side. I was once a prisoner, too, in one of the other camps, but we
escaped, and we've come back to help you guys get out!"
     The rodents that had come with Tim all agreed and reassured the captives
enthusiastically.
     "But..." one of the prisoners said, fear still evident. "If we get caught..."
     "We won't," Tim stated clearly.
     "But--"
     "You can stay here if you want," Tim interjected. "But I have three little
girls of mine waiting for me to come back. And I think they'd like to see that 
their daddy wasn't lying when he said that either everyone was coming back, or 
nobody was."
     There was a moment of silence as the prisoners glanced uncertainly at each
other, and then at the ants apparently keeping watch around them.
     "You can wait for them...," he pointed up at the insects, now drawing back
away from the cloud, "...that..." he pointed to the fog that was slowly flowing
towards them, "...or you can get out of here and back to your lives."
     One of the prisoners slowly stepped towards the hole, then glanced back up
at Tim. "I just want to go home."
     Tim clapped the mouse's shoulder supportingly. "Hop in."
     The mouse nodded, and hopped into the hole, sliding down the small tunnel.
Another soon followed, then another, and another, until Tim and the rest had to
organize it so they all weren't trying to go at once.
     After the last one was through, Tim and the rest dropped through, Orkin and
his fellow ants bringing up the rear, pausing just long enough to seal up that 
end of the tunnel with a thin layer of dirt to mask their escape.

                         *     *     *

     The Magic APC barreled down the tunnels of the complex, the flashlight
strapped to the top giving enough light for Monterey to steer by, although it wasn't
much help at times, due to the increasing fog of chemicals. As he drove on, an
occasional bug would bounce harmlessly off of the television screen, making Monterey
wonder if this is what it felt like for humans when they drove their cars.
     He swerved around a corner, checking his location on the map next to him.
This should be the place. He glanced about, then spotted four large figures and two
small forms moving towards him. He grinned as he quickly stepped over to the side
door, opening it up for Chip, Dale, Foxglove, Rufus, Zipper, and Zinger to enter,
glad Gadget had taken the few minutes she needed to give enough weather-stripping
to this APC so as to block out the fog.
     Zipper and his sister had entered separately after the fogbombs were
deployed, telling everybug they ran across to get out and away from the gases.
Zipper's strong presence was enough for them to listen the first time. Zinger, while
not as influential, was well-known to be Zipper's sister, which lent her the same
credentials. They slipped on their own masks when the fog started to get thick, then
flew off to meet with the others at the rendezvous, where Monterey would pick them all
up.
     "Okay, mates," Monterey said as he shut the door and climbed back into the
driver's seat. "Time to do a final check."
     To the infirmary, Zipper quickly ordered. Queenie's swarm is working on
getting everybug out who couldn't make it on their own, but I don't want to take
any chances.
     Monterey nodded resolutely and shoved the APC into gear, lurching it down
the tunnel and through the fog.

                         *     *     *

     Coughing on the thickening fumes, Stinger fluttered forward a little, then
collapsed to the ground, too weak to fly. The choking vapors were sapping the
strength from him, despite his best efforts to fight it off. He knew, however, that
this was only to be expected. He was a worker, not a fighter.
     "Hey!"
     He looked up to see a few bees shooting up alongside of him. He didn't
recognize them, but they had some type of crude gas masks over their faces.
     "Don't worry," one said as they hoisted him up and starting flying him off
towards the closest exit. "We're going to get you out of here."
     "Thanks guys," he replied weakly. "I wish I knew how to thank you."
     "Easy," the bee replied. "Quit Swarm."
     "What?" Stinger replied out of reflex, even though he didn't feel that
enthusiastic about it anymore.
     "Hitter and his goons have fallen, buddy. He was trying to mess with things
beyond his reach, and he got burned. Look at how this place was invaded! We don't
want anymore insects sacrificing themselves for him, so do both us and yourself a
favor: quit. Go back to your hive, and your normal life. Make a difference in the
world without resorting to violence."
     Stinger's mind was too tired to really argue, so he just let it sink in. 
"Did you quit?" he finally asked.
     A laugh. An honest one, uncondescending. "We never joined. It's how we were
able to prepare enough to help people like you out of here."
     The young wasp's eyes were heavy, and the speed at which the bees were
flying with him was starting to make him even more woozy, so he didn't continue
with the questions.
     As they moved him towards open air, he sighed, and felt the last bit of
Hitter's influence fall away.

                         *     *     *

     "Everyone keep calm!" Tim yelled out over the din of murmuring and restless
movement from the huge crowd of freed animals. They were all gathered on the
ledge in the sewer below Swarm's HQ, not quite sure what to think. They were free,
but the ants around them still made them uneasy. Tim had to work on keeping them
all from panicking, but the simple fact that they had indeed escaped from the camps
helped immensely.
     "All the camps are accounted for," Tammy told Tim, walking up to him while
checking a clipboard. "Let's get them out of here, now, and back to the surface."
     Tim nodded. It would take a bit of walking, but he knew that the vast
majority of the crowd had too much nervous energy stored up to just stand still.
     "Okay everyone," he announced loudly. "We're going to make our way out
of here. Follow me, and stay together." He hopped down from the small brick he
had been standing on, and started off down the ledge, the rest of the crowd slowly
following him.
     "You think that things will be clear up there by the time we arrive?" Tammy
asked.
     Orkin, who had joined them near the front, nodded. "We're coming out away
from the actual HQ."
     "That," Tim added, "and they'll be too busy to worry about us even if they
did spot us. Don't forget the rest of the volunteers are waiting by most of the
entrances and exits. This party's far from over."

                         *     *     *

     Coughing badly, Grater and Brickhouse stumbled up out of the tunnel into the
night air, the troops spilling out of the ground next to them.
     "Breathe that fresh air," Brickhouse commented offhandedly, filling his lungs
with fog-free oxygen.
     "Hey," Grater said, sniffing at the air. "Do you smell chocolate?"
     As if on cue, a number of mice armed with Syrup-Slingers popped up from
their hiding places surrounding the exit and began to open fire on the emerging
insects. The heavy, sugary ooze poured over the members of Swarm, gumming up
their wings and weighing them down severely. The winged members couldn't fly,
and everybug hit had trouble moving too fast from the sludge covering them.
     "What the--!?" Grater started, only to catch a full ammo shot directly in his
face, knocking him over and coating him in syrup.
     A score of bats swooped down from the sky, encircling the covered insects,
except for one, which hovered above them all.
     "Surrender!" she demanded.
     Brickhouse glanced from the immobile form of Grater, to the entrapped
troops, and sighed, conceding to the bat's demands.

                         *     *     *

     "There!" Chip pointed to the doorway to the infirmary through the white
haze.
     Dale opened the door and he, Chip, Zipper and Zinger darted out to check the
make-shift hospital while Monterey and the bats remained in the Magic APC. As
they moved throughout the place, the search party noticed that Queenie's swarm had
done a spectacular job of clearing out the place of any and all insects. While the
others moved off to check the other sections, Zipper headed for the children's ward,
feeling the strongest pull coming from there.
     Bursting through the doorway, he noted with satisfaction that all the beds had
been cleared, and also spotted something that made him stop. He recognized Ruth's
bed, but what made him wonder was the fact it was neatly made -- apparently it
hadn't been slept in recently.
     Hoping the reason wasn't what he thought, Zipper alighted in front of it, checking the
section where the copy of the patient's file was kept. Still there -- the doctors 
hadn't removed it yet. Although it was hard to read through the gas mask, Zipper 
flipped through it, checking for some medical note of what had happened.
     On the last page of the file, he sighed sadly as he read that the infection in
Ruth had spread beyond the doctor's control, and that they hadn't given her more
than a week. He was disturbed by this, but then realized that this diagnosis had been
given just a couple of days ago. Ruth was a spirited kid; surely she hadn't
succumbed to the infection that fast. Washboard might know what....
     Come to think of it, where was Washboard? Zipper hadn't seen hide nor hair
of the large grasshopper, or even heard about him through the headset he wore
under the mask. Grater and Brickhouse had been captured, he had heard, and unless
Queenie's bees had somehow missed him, the grasshopper couldn't still be in the
complex. Hitter and Sand were also unaccounted for, but Zipper and the
rest of the search party were more concerned about making sure everyone was out
of the compound first.
     Zipper tucked the file away for future contemplation. Right now, he had a
responsibility to those that *were* here.

                         *     *     *

     "Where are we going?"
     "Far away." Washboard checked over his shoulder. The twinkling lights of the
city were far off now. Soon they would be in the country, far from Hitter and Zipper
and the rest of the world that couldn't do anything to save this child. To save *his* 
child, as far as he was concerned. "Far away, to somewhere peaceful, and quiet."
     "I'm tired," Ruth said sleepily. She hadn't had much time to sleep since
Washboard had sneaked into the children's ward and taken her. He was determined
not to let this poor child die, let alone perish in the confines of the dark hallways of 
the underground. At the very least, she would be with him and Mother Nature for the
rest of her days. "Aren't you tired, too?" she asked, starting to doze off again.
     "I am," he hugged her tightly. "But I have promises to keep, and many miles
to go before I sleep." He looked from the fading city behind him, then faced the
approaching countryside as he flew on into the night. "Many miles to go before I
sleep...."

                         *     *     *

     "Wait!" Dale pointed through the windshield. "I see a bug out there!'
     Chip squinted in the direction Dale was pointing, and nodded. "He's right.
There's a small insect moving around off in the cavern entrance."
     "How did whoever it is last this long?" Foxglove wondered aloud.
     No matter, Zipper motioned as the door was opened by Monterey, we have a
job to do.
     He, Zinger, Chip and Dale all moved out as one. Since the insect was still
moving, and possibly confused from the fumes, it was likely that it would struggle
against anyone attempting to move it, so they decided a group effort would be the
best course of action. Likewise, they had no desire to frighten the insect by having 
either Rufus or Foxglove around during the rescue attempt.
     They quickly followed it into the cavern, as it appeared to stumble
indecisively towards the concentration camp ahead.
     "Looks like the gas has affected him," Chip noted as they closed in on the
figure. "We should--"
     He stopped short as they drew close to the insect in question, a termite, who
spun around with an extremely vengeful expression on his chiseled features. "It's
about time!" Hitter snarled. "I've been waiting for the mighty Rescue Rangers to get
here!"
     In a flash, he hopped between Chip and Dale, tearing off their masks and then
driving a fist into their mid-sections. The chipmunks doubled-over as their breath
was knocked clear, and they found themselves gasping in the fumes of the
fogbombs.
     "Monty..." Chip said weakly. "Get in here!"
     Hitter, meanwhile, had turned his attention back to the fly siblings, reaching
out and snatching Zinger by the foot as she attempted to dart away. "Not so fast,
little one!" He pulled her mask off as well, then held her in a near-choke hold while
leveling his gaze at Zipper. "Just wanted to say 'thanks' for ruining everything, 
Zip ol' pal. The insects will be driven back down to the bottom of the food chain
now, thanks to you!"
     Let her go, Zipper's threatening pose ordered. If you want to debate the finer
points of supremacy, let her go and then we'll talk. He hovered just out of Hitter's
reach.
     "Why Zipper," Hitter said, mock-worried. "Me? Harm another insect? Of
course I'll let *her* go--" He released Zinger and sprang forward again, catching
Zipper off-guard with the distance of the leap. He'd seen fleas jump shorter lengths
on their best day.
     Hitter rammed into Zipper, tackling him roughly to the ground, rolling away
from the rest of the group, leaving them in the fog. In the scuffle, it was clear
Hitter was by far the superior fighter. With one hand he swept off Zipper's mask,
then used the free hand to rip the headset away, crushing it easily. He drove his
elbow firmly into Zipper's smaller form, causing the fly to cough and gasp, same
as the chipmunks had.
     "Breath deep, buddy," Hitter said, his voice suddenly sad. "You don't want
to be conscious when I rend you limb from limb."

                         *     *     *

     Back in the APC, Monterey had cranked the motor up, charging through the
entranceway into the cavern. He hit the brakes as Chip, Dale, and Zinger suddenly
appeared out of the fog.
     Foxglove and Rufus dropped the door open, then pulled Chip and Dale in
while Zinger fluttered in, all three hacking against the fumes in their lungs.
Monterey shut the door as Rufus and Foxglove tended to the fallen rescue team
members.
     "Gadget was right," Dale moaned, "this stuff would clear anyone out!"
     "Not Hitter," Chip mentioned through a groan, the world swimming before
his eyes.
     "Hitter?' Foxglove asked in surprise, holding Dale up and against her.
     He was the insect we saw, Zinger explained. He sucker-punched Chip and
Dale, then used me as bait to get his hands on my brother -- and he's still out
there somewhere!
     Tears started to form in the eyes of the lady fly.
     "Zipper?" Monterey called experimentally into his headset. "Zipper? Zipper,
answer me, mate!"
     No reply.
     "Curds!" Monterey swore as he started for the door, but was stopped by
Rufus.
     "Let me find him -- I still have my mask and can fly," the bat offered.
Monterey grunted but nodded.
     "How come Hitter isn't being affected by the gas?" Foxglove asked to the
group in general. "It's worked on everyone else."
     "Hitter's mad," Monterey coldly stated. "Mad blighters like him don't know
when to quit."
     "And," Rufus added as he donned his mask, "he's from South America. I
know a little about the termites from that continent -- they're very tough creatures,
especially the warriors. He can probably use this gas as a nasal decongestant."
The leader of the bat clan turned, opened the door, and shot out into the fog,
Monterey quickly slamming the door shut behind him.
     "Hurry, Rufus," the large Aussie mouse whispered. "Without that mask, me
little bucko's really on the short end of the stick this time."

                         *     *     *

     The gas already heavily in his system, Zipper could do little except fight to
stay conscious as Hitter tossed him about like a rag doll, lecturing all the while.
     "...years that I spent to build up an army to carry out my dreams, and to see
it all come crumbling down because of *you* is really the hurtful part," Hitter
went on. "You were one of my heroes, Zipper. *Why* did you have to try and play hero
this time, too? *Why* couldn't you have just let Swarm have its day of glory against
the humans?"
     Because, Zipper managed to sputter out in weak buzzes, the humans would
have struck back even harder. You know that. If they were to realize just how
dangerous insects can be under your rule, they would have practically declared all
out war.
     "Perhaps," Hitter shrugged as he stepped up closer to the beaten fly. "But
who cares? We would have made a mark forever in history! Just like the plagues of
locusts have done in American folklore; they massed over thousands of acres of
crops, eating everything in sight, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake! 
And the humans remembered it!"
     And how did the story end Hitter? Zipper demanded as he slowly stood up.
     When Hitter had been replying, Zipper had noticed some cracks in the ground
around him. In his weakened state, he couldn't fly very far, and certainly not enough
to escape Hitter, but he had an idea, if he could just stall until he could catch his
breath.
     "What do you mean, end?"
     The locusts *died*, Hitter, Zipper's brows drew in. They were all killed, by
pelicans, no less! And the same thing would happen here; you kill the humans in the
hospital, and the humans of this city would take every opportunity to completely
wipe out all the insects ever found. You would have been single-handedly 
responsible for the massacre of this city's insects!
     "You still don't get it, do you?" Hitter grumbled, disappointed. "I was going
to make a statement, and I still fully intend to! One that will live forever! Who
cares about the immediate consequences? The example I set will inspire and lead 
others on for generations to come!"
     As an example of madness?
     "People often label genius as madness before its time," Hitter coolly replied.
     Ironically, Zipper couldn't have hoped for a better response.
     While Hitter was smugly lording it over Zipper in the mental contest, the large
termite had relaxed his fighter's stance. Zipper capitalized on it by using what 
little power he had left in his wings to fly a short distance up into the air, then dive into
the ground as hard as possible.
     As he had guessed, he broke through the loose soil, dropping and tumbling
down one of the tunnels that the Wells Colony had built just a few hours earlier.
     "That was stupid, Zipper!" Hitter's angry voice echoed down after him.
"Very stupid! What -- you didn't think I could fit in here to catch you?"
     As Zipper continued to tumble down the small tunnel, he heard a sliding
sound grow closer and closer, until Hitter came barreling into him, adding to his
growing list of injuries.
     The two of them continued their struggle as they rolled down the length of the
tunnel, finally emptying out onto the sewer ledge, now otherwise devoid of life. On
the plus side, the air was clear down here, helping to somewhat clear Zipper's cloudy
head.
     But it wasn't helping fast enough. Hitter had lived through battles that even
Monterey would have avoided. He was relentless as he punched, jabbed, and
basically beat Zipper senseless. Not one to ever give in however, Zipper pulled a
surprise on Hitter by using the momentum from the termite's newest attack to flip
Hitter up and over him. The good news was that this put Hitter into the rushing
waters of the sewer. The bad news was that Hitter had held on to the fly, dragging
him in as well.
     They continued their battle in the cold, foul-smelling water, which, as Zipper
knew, was rushing them towards an awaiting pipe. He was frustrated in knowing that 
even if he could pull far enough away from Hitter, the water was bogging him down too
much for him to use his wings -- he would need to be clear of the water first before
they would be able to function, but to successfully clear the water, he needed his wings to
lift him up.
     "This is it for you, my friend," Hitter grimly announced, snagging Zipper's
arm and drawing him in for the kill. "As much as I might respect you, my plans are a
step higher than your morals."
     Hey, Zipper blinked, that's a good idea!
     Instead of pulling away from Hitter's grasp, Zipper grabbed Hitter's shirt and
pulled himself in even closer, then hoisted his light frame up to plant on foot firmly
in Hitter's surprised eye. A yelp of pain, and Hitter released Zipper, who then
planted his other foot on Hitter's head and pushed off into the air, free from both
the water and Hitter. The termite gave an enraged yell as he broke back through the
water's surface, making a desperate grab, but Zipper's wings, weak as they were,
were able to pull him out of reach in the nick of time.
     Using the last of his energy, Zipper moved himself over to the ledge and
collapsed. The last sound Zipper heard before passing out was Hitter's scream as
the water sucked him into the looming pipe. 

                         *     *     *

     He wasn't sure how long he had been out, but Zipper awoke to someone
moving him. The sound of rushing water told him before he opened his eyes that he
was still in the sewer. Gingerly, he opened his eyes.
     "Zipper!" Rufus' muffled voice cheerfully exclaimed, then sobered as he saw
the extent of the fly's wounds. "Oh my -- hang on, I'm going to get you out of
here."
     Zipper tried to say something, but he couldn't even buzz, let alone form a
word. Rufus carefully picked Zipper up, then slowly began to climb back up the
tunnel.
     Upon reaching the top, he was glad to see the APC waiting nearby. He
waved, and the door dropped open.
     "Rufus! Zipper!" Monterey yelled happily. "You guys okay?"
     "I am," Rufus replied as he flew inside, the chipmunks closing the door
behind him. "But Zipper's badly hurt."
     "Oh Zipper...." Foxglove's eyes filled with concern as she compassionately
took her injured friend from Rufus.
     "Crikey..." Monterey mumbled as he saw how extensively Hitter had
delivered his beating. "Let's get him top-side, pronto!" He hopped back in the
driver's seat, started the motor, and began the drive back out. Not too fast,
though, lest he jostle his long-time friend.
     "Do you think there's any more?" Dale asked, both him and Chip feeling a bit
better now that they were out of the gas.
     "Insects?" Chip asked. "No, I think Hitter is the only one who didn't leave,
for obvious reasons. Hey," he turned to Rufus, "did you see him?"
     "I don't even know what he looks like," Rufus admitted, "but Zipper was
lying on the ledge of the sewer by himself. I didn't see any other insects around.
I'm just glad I spotted that open hole -- otherwise I might never have figured out
where they'd gone."
     "Down the pipe...." Zipper forced himself to say.
     Chip turned back to Zipper, eyes wide. "You mean Hitter was washed down
the pipe?"
     Zipper weakly nodded.
     Chip felt himself shudder, and turned away from the others, not sure how to
feel about the fate awaiting the bloodthirsty termite.
     Maybe, he finally thought, it might somehow let the souls of those he had
terminated rest a little easier if the scales were balanced like this.
     Turning back to face Zipper's battered form, Chip breathed deeply.
     It's something to believe in, at least.

                         *     *     *

     He was coughing out the water, staring angrily back up at the pipe out of which
he had been dumped. The pool was easy enough to traverse over to the shore, but to
get back up to the pipe, let alone back through to the sewer, was beyond his reach.
For now.
     It disgusted Hitter to no end that he might have to ride the sewer water all
the way out to wherever it was going, just to get back to the surface. He wasn't a
digger, so he couldn't tunnel his way back, that was for sure.
     "I'll get you for this, Zipper," he growled to himself. "I'll tear you apart,
then go and rebuild Swarm -- even if it takes years, I *will* rebuild it! The animals
and humans will live with the horror that I have in store form them for years to come,
and this time you won't be around to stop me!"
     Something lightly touched his back, but before he could even blink, he was
yanked off his feet, pulled into a mass of something light, strong, and adhering.
Despite his superior South American strength, he couldn't break free.
     "You insects truly are priceless at times," a frighteningly soothing voice said
from alongside him, "yelling at the ceiling like that."
     Hitter twisted enough in his restraints to see a delicate, but undeniably deadly,
black widow smile chillingly at him. "Who--who are you?" he asked through his suddenly
dry lips.
     "No one of great importance, I'm afraid. Unlike you. Hitter, I assume? I'm
also guessing that your little empire has been broken, judging by the tantrum you
threw a few seconds ago."
     Normally, he would have defiantly argued against such an accusation. Staring
into those endless, black pupils, though, drained any hope he might have had that it
would make a difference.
     "I must apologize in advance," she whispered, leaning in very close to her
prey. "Normally I put my meals to sleep before I dine, but it's been so long since
I've had a 'fresh' dinner...."
     Her sinister smile widened, the fangs glistening faintly in the dim light.