Naturally being the size that Pix was, and at her angle to the big beastly rabbit, was still a big beastly rabbit. I mean. Come on. To someone the size of a speck, a mouse could be Godzilla and who cares what size a rabbit is, As long as their head is bigger then an apartment complex, a really, really, big apartment complex. The real fun behind why Petunia loved becoming small, was that she could be nothing more then a speck and still have her own Godzilla on the run, well… On the hop in this case. If that isn’t a, spoiled brat’s, confidence boost, what is.

…. Then Petunia heard the magic words… Flea Bath!

“BUT YOU’VE GOT SOAP BACK THERE!” Petunia wined in his ear, Suddenly hopping back and forth. To the edge of his ear and back inside. Then to the edge then back inside. Mean while her little helium esc, fast paced, voice kept rattling off, in her sudden excitement and panic. “Remember you were spitting it at me. And the toothpaste, toothpaste is a good scrub too. Do you ever wash your ears, you don’t need a flea bath. You… You… You want….” What would he want to do?

Whattodowhattodowhattodo!

She suddenly hopped back to the inner side of his ear and bit down as hard as the little speck of a flea could bite. As if taking their lead from Pix, the other fleas that were left, hiding in different areas of Calleys fur, did the same. “You want to hop back to the warehouse or,.. or,… or,….. I’ll get bigger while still in your head!” Wait… that would hurt her too….. would he know that?

> “BUT YOU’VE GOT SOAP BACK THERE! Remember you were spitting it at me. And the toothpaste, toothpaste is a good scrub too. Do you ever wash your ears, you don’t need a flea bath. You… You… You want….”

What Calley wanted was to desperately scratch his inner ear raw. What was she doing in there, tap-dancing? His hops became erratic, veering to the side as he alternated shaking his head and compulsively kicking out his legs. It looked rather like he was having a flea-induced seizure.

THOUSAND SIMULTANEOUS BITES OF UNPLEASANTRY.

Calley hopped straight into a snow bank, head first, and started rolling around. Get them off get them off get them off before they did that again!

> “You want to hop back to the warehouse or,.. or,… or,….. I’ll get bigger while still in your head!”

He didn't actually hear that threat, actually. Which made sense. It was hard to hear, when you were grinding the side of your little snowshoe head against the ice crystals of the snow. Ever have that maddening itch that you just can't scratch?

"Out!" He shouted. "Out, or I'll start singing off key! I'll insult your mother's mother's uncle in broken Portuguese! I'll eat ice cream and watch B-rate horror movies about giant snakes without you! I'll wear the best pajamas ever and you'll get jealous! Out, or I'll threaten you some more, pour flea powder in my ear, and defile your corpse in seven and a half unspeakable ways!" He lifted up his head, and--starting at the tip of his nose--gave a shake that went all the way down to his white-poofed rump.

(OOC: ROFL!)

Suddenly it felt a lot colder and Petuna’s little legs scurried as fast as the little flea legs could to the inside of the rabbit’s ear. Where the snow became water before it reached her, thanks to the rabbit’s own body temperature. This is what it means when they say snug as a bug in a future rug. Rabbit fur did make good rugs, right? note to self, when you’re as small as a flea, it’s hard to get accurate measurements.

Then he started chanting threats of his own. Oh those were fun. Petunia almost for got about the fraise flea bath.

"Out, or I'll start singing off key! –“

“I’d join you!”

I'll insult your mother's mother's uncle in broken Portuguese!

“Were you his conscience too?”

I'll eat ice cream and watch B-rate horror movies about giant snakes without you!

“How would you know I wont be there?”

I'll wear the best pajamas ever and you'll get jealous!

Unless they moo that’s impossible!”

Out, or I'll threaten you some more, pour flea powder in my ear, and defile your corpse in seven and a half unspeakable ways!"

The flea powder was a valid threat but….”Only seven in a half ways? Oh come on. Your imagination has to work better then thaAAAAAAAAAAATTT!

There was suddenly something like and earthquake going on around her, and Petunia clung to the little fleshy inside of his ear, letting all of the other fleas do the same as the stopped their biting and clung to fur. Letting all go completely still for about a five count… waiting till it seemed like they/she wasn’t there anymore.

The thing about leaving right then, was she couldn’t leave and go in the cold. Despite her disgust with the rabbit, and desire to put his little rabbit feet to good use as new lucky charms, he was also keeping her, and her little biting friends, alive. One of the catches when you can’t exactly have enough body mass to contain your own temperature. She knew from experience crickets and grasshoppers could survive being frozen (Though the survival rate of being thawed in the microwave wasn’t high) She didn’t know if fleas could. Petunia was crazy, not stupid.

It was her turn to make demands. “I will have little shop of horrors songs literally in your head for the rest of the month unless you hop back to the warehouse right now. I’ll make you French kiss my cow face slippers, record it, and post the video on youtube. I will infest your icecream and eat it all before you can enjoy a lick. Then watch from a little corner and laugh at you when you discover all is gone. I wont kill you, I wont defile your corps because there are much worst things then death and my overly active imagination could find a lot of enjoyment and fulfillment, in acting on the thousands of little burning bunny thoughts I keep caged.” As if to make her point she gave the mental signal for all fleas to begin their feast again, and she did the same.

(Burning bunnies thoughts are © to Kim Harrison. One of the best authors ever.)

Calley had zero hope that his shake had freed him of his multitude of menaces. It did stop the biting for approximately five seconds, though.

5: Ooo

4: That's

3: Sheer

2: Fantastic

1: Bliss

"I" Bliss "will" gone. "have" Really, "little" didn't "shop" she "of" know "horrors" he'd "songs" been "literally" enjoying " his "in" bliss? "your" Was "head" it "for" too "the" much "rest" to "of" ask, "the" that "month" the "unless" world "you" be "hop" filled "back" with "to" a "the" little "warehouse" more "right" bliss? "now." Did "I’ll" he "make" have "you" some "French" serious "kiss" attention "my" span "cow" issues? "face" ... "slippers," Yeah, "record" probably. "it," Clearly, "and" though, "post" that "the" was "video" both "on" her "youtube." own "I" fault "will" and "infest" her "your" own "icecream" problem.

...Do you think, perhaps, you should be listening to her demands?

Naw. I mean, you're listening to them for me, right?

...Indeed.

"enjoy a lick."

Woah! Okay, that needed context.

...Your voice is like a plague upon my ears.

You've been reading Shakespeare again, haven't--?

BITING BITING BITING BITING OWW!

...Finally growing too annoyed with this game to allow it to continue, Slate took control. His first act: sitting perfectly still during the young bug lady's nibbling onslaught.

"Are you quite finished?" He asked dryly. "In response to your demands: I dare say there is no way in an overcast Hell that I am re-entering the warehouse where the rest of your miniscule army awaits. If you honestly intend to remove yourself from our auditory canal and our person, then I would be willing to enter another warehouse, if such is the terms you desire in exchange."

Slate could have been reading any number of texts right now. Instead, he was in the middle of a Mondragon Labs side road receiving a rash of bites. None of them even warranted healing. If this was not the very definition of wasted time, he did not know what was.

"Are you quite finished?"

Petunia slowed her onslot of little annoying bites now that there was no longer a reaction quite so entertaining to them. “I could be.”

"In response to your demands: I dare say there is no way in an overcast Hell that I am re-entering the warehouse where the rest of your miniscule army awaits. If you honestly intend to remove yourself from our auditory canal and our person, then I would be willing to enter another warehouse, if such is the terms you desire in exchange."

There is what the spoiled brat desired, Respect and attention. Proper attention. Not the do it now or I’ll kick you in the face type of attention. She immediately responded to the more adult talk. “If you leave me in another warehouse, I’ll have to shift back to go to the warehouse that my belongings are in. In short, I’ll be nude and you’ll enjoy that too much for me to comply.”

Inside the giant rabbit’s ear she let herself recline back against one of the softer folds of skin. “I’ve got all day or week till you go back in there, to wait.” There was food practically surrounding Petunia when she was in her flea form and who needed the… the other reason why she would leave Calley’s ear…. Petunia didn’t.

Of course there was the problem with flea powder or a flea bath. Then she’d instantly have to switch back.

“Besides. How do I know I can trust you anyways. A moment ago you were trying to kill me with soap. I’m entitled to return the favor. That and I think your rabbit’s feet would be extra lucky.”

> “If you leave me in another warehouse, I’ll have to shift back to go to the warehouse that my belongings are in. In short, I’ll be nude and you’ll enjoy that too much for me to comply.”

How laughable. Somehow, Slate managed to contain his amusement. "I do not believe the sight of you nude will be enjoyable, much less too enjoyable." He replied. "Is there a reason beyond your questionable modesty that you require being returned to the warehouse where your other creations are lying in wait? Otherwise, I will simply relocate you to a warehouse which contains clothing, as that seems to be your primary complaint."

> “I’ve got all day or week till you go back in there, to wait. ...Besides. How do I know I can trust you anyways. A moment ago you were trying to kill me with soap. I’m entitled to return the favor. That and I think your rabbit’s feet would be extra lucky.”

Slate continued to sit demurely upon the ground. He most certainly did not take a hop back to the warehouse. "I believe a flea bath and flea powder were mentioned by way of threats. Soap was an option you yourself stated, and one that would be less effective. Additionally, both threats stand. Do not confuse my sudden reasonability with defeat. Neither of us has obtained the clear upper hand in this situation; however, if pressed to say which of us possessed the most power for bargaining, I would not choose you. On that note, I would advise you to reconsider the wisdom of continued threats upon our person, unless you care to be treated in like kind.

"To repeat myself," he continued levelly, "would a warehouse with clothing suit your needs? To continue my self-repetition: I have no intentions of returning to the warehouse from which we came originally."

If only the rabbit could see Pix’s little tiny microscopic eyes rolling as he spoke. Blah blah blah blah blahblahblahblah. Yeah yeah yeah. She remembered the flea bath and flea powder but.

“Look Gigantic tall and fluffy tailed.” She began once this new side of the rabbit seemed like he had finished. Oh wow. She hadn’t interrupted a word. Unusual.

“It’s the principle of the matter. And to be frank, if it does come to flea powder, we’re both introuble because I’ll have to get big and to be honest if I panic or am all doped up on flea powder, that stuff gives me a bad hang over immediately, then I probably wont think to exit your head before going back to my original, more resistant to flea baths form.”

On the other hand a new set of cloths was tempting. Would she get to keep them? Maybe she could steal the cloths afterwards? “By any chance is there something in a turquoise and hot pink snake skin pleather? Just random thoughts, not giving into anything.”

Somehow, Slate remained unimpressed through all of her threats--which were, finally, beginning to be realistic--and all of her... fashion sense. He waited until her inane vocalizations seemed momentarily complete, and then he began hopping in long, silent, smooth strides. He was not returning to the warehouse where her clothes were lodged. "I hope you like military knock-offs," he said at length, turning a corner onto another street. Within moments, he was digging stray snow away from a tunnel entrance under a gray metal side into yet another warehouse. They had, perhaps, been here once before. Perhaps more than once.

Once their little white paws had pulled them through the shallow tunnel and onto the concrete floor, Slate gave a little shake to rid themselves of dirt and snow. Then he hopped over to a crate that might or might not look like it had been mauled open by a tiger. "You will find standard issue guard uniforms in there. They will not be in your size. I suggest you put one on, regardless: you may certainly then proceed to walk to the other warehouse, and reclaim your former belongings. I would also recommend that yourself and all of your friends vacant this body within the next thirty seconds. My next destination is a flea bath." He felt this point needed illustration. He decided, furthermore, that counting would fulfill this role:

"Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight..."

He faced his little rabbit eyes away from the clothes crate, to appease whatever modesty a bug woman might actually have.

"I hope you like military knock-offs,"

“… .. . borring….” Military people had no fashion sense. Not like petunia’s. Although maybe she could make something that boring more interesting. Would there be spray paint in the warehouse as well?

Petunia couldn’t help but peak out from the between little white hairs and the big rabbit ear as she felt them start moving again. There was something about this journey that almost felt. Routine? Ok so the giant rabbit knew his way around, and that hole looked like it had been dug before. A little deeper and she realized it had been dug before. Then there was that peculiar box that had been ripped open. Almost like someone, such as herself, had come here often, and was forced to rip the box open with claws, due to the lack of opposable thumbs or just lack of patients…..

nahhhh…. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

"You will find standard issue guard uniforms in there. They will not be in your size. I suggest you put one on, regardless: you may certainly then proceed to walk to the other warehouse, and reclaim your former belongings. I would also recommend that yourself and all of your friends vacant this body within the next thirty seconds. My next destination is a flea bath."

“Did anyone ever tell you that you were very bossy for a conscience?”

So the count down began and Petunia crossed her little front flea legs. Disgusted as she looked down at the box of cloths. “You’re right about the size thing, three of me could swim in those and I wouldn’t have to be small.”

She was pretty sure she heard the rabbit hit the number twenty two but she wasn’t leaving yet. Instead she let a couple of fleas investigate the box first. Two of the little specks of bugs could be seen hopping up across the floor. “You left that hole open and there is a cold draft in here.” She complained some where in the back ground she heard nineteen and eighteen. “The flea’s she sent in gave her a disturbing empathic signal. “And there are mothballs in with those cloths. What are you trying to do? Give me a rash?” she heard the rabbit hit the number ten. “What great prospects you present me with, freeze to death, deal with a really bad rash for the next few weeks, or get poisoned and wake up with a bad hangover. You either just don’t thing of everything or you are one of the best evilest minds I’ve ever met.”

(Hope you don’t mind the mothballs. They gave me a way of toning down my original post.)

The woman had said nothing which merited a reply.

"Twenty-one.

"Twenty.

"Nineteen.

"Eighteen."

Well her pointing all this information out clearly didn't seem to bother this individual rabbit. so apparently he was among the evil minds category. Evilevilevil minds indeed. If she survived the flea bath experience he might gain a little respect. little being the key word

Petunia stubbornly leaned back in the ear not willing to come out. She was a five year old testing exactly how long and how far she could push things.

"Four.

"Three.

"Two."

As far as Slate could tell, the young woman was finding some internalized rationale that supported a continuation of her aimless intelligence deficit. This was neither his fault nor his problem. His conditions had been simple, and he trusted they had been understood.

"One."

Not pausing an additional second, Slate hopped and burrowed back the way they had come. "Mister Newton, I trust that my flea bath will be ready by the time I enter through corridor thirty-seven and proceed to the debriefing room directly inside. Containment measures may also be appropriate, as I am bringing in at least one mutant capable of shifting herself into multiple bug forms simultaneously. Thank you."

Corridor thirty-seven lead, at length, into on of the actual lab complexes at Mondragon Labs. That was the indirect reason Slate choose it. The more direct reason: its ventilation system was both self-contained and pressurized, designed to keep even the smallest of things in isolated to the hallway. There were exactly three rooms inside of the corridor, and then a rather thick, rather airtight door that separated the debriefing rooms from the actual laboratories. The door back to the outside was equally notable, as were those leading to side corridors. Once they were inside, it was unlikely the woman would be leaving again without the knowledge of Antonescu's personnel. Slate was not playing games.

The side of the gray stone building came into sight; Nicholas Williams was outside, lighting a cigarette and looking entirely unsurprised that a white rabbit was intentfully hopping his way. It was the woman's last chance to avoid entering the Lab complex.

He was bluffing. He had to be bluffing. Right? Still his words made pix’s insides turn as she felt them start on the move again announcing something to someone about her powers “Tattle tail..” and where he was headed. he wasn’t bluffing… and pix was too stubborn to just give in and hope out.

… She was going to be ill….

They reached a new destination, in a new room and she felt something about her pop. Either on the outside or in her but it did make her little form vibrate slightly. She wasn’t exactly sure what with the flea shell she was sporting. That was a very interesting new sensation, she sort of liked it if it wasn’t for what she thought it might mean A pressurized room…. great This was going to be interesting.

With a minimum of wasted movement and fuss, Slate hopped into the corridor; Charles closed the door to the outside behind him. He hopped through the waiting door into the first debriefing room. Nicholas neatly shut that behind him, as well.

That left the rabbit and its passenger, the silent composed hulk that was Frank, and a small metal tub of water alone in a room designed for no escape. Antonescu did give the most interesting debriefings; apparently he found people leaving them to be a shame.

Without a pause, Slate hopped straight into the flea bath.

Petunia grimissed her little flea face as the rabbit continued moving. Peaking out at the edge of his ear, she could see some really big guy shutting a door. Then again it was hard to gage his size exactly. Everything was bigger when you were so small. One thing became sure to her for the first time. Some how back there the hare had become a normal sized hare. Either that or this was a giant mutant. Suddenly her mind was on the golly green giant.

Mmmmm canned veggies.

Then she noticed that sent in the air. Something that hit on her little flea head like a pounding hammer. Crap! That was her warning. Her stomach gave a lurch as when the rabbit made one last big hop, and when that putrid water hit them, it was too late. Well as if she couldn’t of left before. She had gotten plenty of warnings. It was on principle that she didn’t follow them. It had been the rabbit that was the one who started things with her and then he wanted to end things? It didn’t make sense and petunia just couldn’t believe things would be that easy.

So as a result now she was a flea completely submerged in a flea bath. Maybe she could have gone out the rabbits ear at the uniforms and summoned a new set of bugs to lift him up. But that thought was a little late now that she was holding her breath. Her little legs kicked and wiggled against the ear and she tried desperately to scratch all of the wrongs that were being done to her by the giant tub of flea bath.

Wait. Suddenly the bath didn’t seem so small. She twisted finding a new itch to desperately scratch and found herself surprised that her shell was much more flexible. Like an ugly skin growth she was emerging from the hare’s hairy ear. When she was aware of the process it quickened. Making the quarters much tighter before she just seemed to pop out. The force of her sudden growth sent her up, and she sucked in a fresh breath of air.

With new air, her transformation quickened. In a blink of an eye she was, well, her. The water seemed to exploded out as her legs, wings and arms managed to make it out of the tub, falling over the sides. She coughed, sputtered, and out came a tone of crap she hadn’t realized got in her system. She tried straightening her back and pushing back on the basin of the bath, only to realize she was stuck. Ok so a minute ago she was tiny. But had they really though a metal tub the size of a large bowl would be big enough?

Water sloshed out both sides of the blow as he wiggled her backside in her attempts to…. Where had the hare gone? Blinking, she tried shifting around, as if there was enough room to look under herself.