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After a long flight through a rainy night, Herc eventually brings them in for a landing. He sets them down in ankle deep ocean water, looking at a drainage outlet which must lead into the tunnel systems under Manhattan. But other than that, between the dark, and lack of landmarks, this could be any one of dozens of identical ocean drains.
Leading the way in, the giant beetle has to duck to clear the roof, and eventually drops to a comfortable looking all-fours gait. Inside, the tunnel is wet, dripping, and echo-y. Water runs freely down the middle of the tunnel, which doesn't seem to bother Herc at all, but anyone in normal shoes will have very soggy socks.
*
Is this a good idea? As he follows Herc along through the tunnel, Eddie considers the fact that it might very much not be. But at this point, what else is there to do? Then again, this is potentially the scoop of a lifetime. Between the pictures and an interview with— Bea?— this could set his career. So, Eddie follows along. "How far is it?" he wonders aloud to the beetle-man.
*
"Not far," Herc grunts. "Five minutes." After probably a quarter mile of walking through tunnels, leaving nearly anyone lost after the host of twists and turns Herc leads them through, the drain reveals a large open space. In one elevated area which is almost certainly a forgotten maintenance platform, someone has set up a fairly cozy looking living space. It's probably only 200 square feet or so, but someone who isn't super picky can do a lot with that.
A metal cot and foot locker line one wall. There's also a card table and a mismatched set of folding chairs. Odds and ends litter the table - an unwashed bowl and fork, a deck of cards, a dismantled handgun, a copy of Wall Street Journal.
Sitting on the edge of the cot, reading the newspaper, is the person Eddie is looking for. She's taller than average, and her legs and arms and fingers seem just a /little/ bit too long. She's wearing a white tank top and black cargo pants, which have been converted to capris style given how think she is, and how long her legs are. She's also wearing combat boots.
Beatrice would just be a long, tall brunette, easy on the eyes with legs that go all the way up - if not for the whole host of insectoid features immediately marking her as a mutant.
Everywhere, her skin is covered in a patchwork of iridescent, silvery chitinous armor covering most long patches of skin. In places where it meets flesh, it looks to be growing out of her, much like fingernails. From far away it sort of looks like body armor, but up close, it's obviously a part of her.
Her long black hair flows around two slightly fuzzy, black antennae growing out of the top of her head. They're about half a foot long, and twitch from time to time. Her eyes are still orbs in sockets, but their surface is matte black, and multi-faceted. It's hard to tell exactly where she's looking as they swivel about.
She also has a long, double pair of translucent insect wings. An entomology buff might note their similarity to termite wings, being twice the length of her body. They drape on the ground behind her like a cloak.
*
Eddie gives a grunt in response: he's long since lost track of exactly where the hell he is, which makes this entire thing as dubious as a plan as he's ever had. To occupy himself, he tries to imagine the Pulitzer he might get, the raise, the promotion, he fame, the accolades. All the things he's always deserved. Then there is a platform and a … woman? With … insect armor? Growing out of her? He can't help but stare a moment, but that moment passes and he thinks of how to go about this right: and he decides to drop to one knee, "My lady." Evil insect queens can't be bothered by that as an introduction, right?
*
"My lady," says Herc, at exactly the same time Eddie does. The giant grunts and looks down at the man briefly. "/My/ lady, this one Eddie. Came to Grover Mill," Herc reaches down and hauls Eddie to his feet next to him. "Says that steal memories," Herc says, gesturing at Eddie's camera. "But Herc think, just camera." The giant shrugs.
When Beatrice speaks, the sound isn't croaky, or insectile at all. It's a smooth, soft contralto, patient and curious. "Eddie, is it? You'll have to excuse me, I wasn't expecting guests." As cultured as she sounds, she hasn't succeeded in completely erasing the Jersey twang. She turns to Herc and gestures toward another tunnel. "Can you go help Mr. Green please? He's working on something and could use a hand."
Herc doesn't hesitate. He just trundles out of the room.
"Come and join me, won't you?" Bea asks, indicating the little stairs that lead up to her platform. She pulls out two of the mismatched metal folding chairs, offering one to him, and one for her, sitting across the corner from each other, rather than have the table between them.
"I have bad news I'm afraid, 'Eddie'," Bea says with a raised eyebrow. "I'm sure Herc had the very best intentions, but I just don't see how I can let you leave here alive. What did you have in mind for this visit?" Again, she is cool, calm, collected, even remorseful about Eddie's most likely fate.
*
Eddie can't help but pale a little bit, and he shakes his head, "If it matters, Lady, I couldn't lead someone here if I wanted to: we flew and then the tunnels… You're perfectly safe and privacy is secure." That said, he does head over to settle on the indicated chair, coughing, and trying to figure out how to get out of this alive. "I'm Eddie Brock, a reporter and photographer for the Bugle, my lady. I… I witnessed the power of Herc and the ants— and well, it seems to me, this wasn't just some random bit of violence. It seemed to me someone who could command such power had a purpose to it. Perhaps even a manifesto. People are going to know there was an attack, and I thought, I thought, I could tell them what *you* wanted them to hear."
*
Beatrice listens attentively, even compassionately, but she really isn't interested until Eddie mentions the Bugle. Her eyes narrow to matte black slits, and her antennae curl forward almost into spirals. She studies the man for a long time, seconds tick past, and finally she leans back in her chair, visibly relaxed.
"Congratulations, Mr. Brock. You've got yourself an interview. And you don't need to bother with the flattery. I'm going to let you leave, and there's little you can do or say to offend me. So let's just have a lovely conversation, yes?" With a gesture, a tiny, normal sized ant on the floor grows to the size of a cat. Through some silent instruction it picks up Bea's footlocker and carries it over, dropping it beside her.
"I'm afraid I don't have much to offer in the way of hospitality, but such as I have…" Bea nudges the open locker towards Eddie, which seems to be filled exclusively with coke-a-cola, snickers, and ramen packets.
*
"Right. Thank you." Eddie nods seriously, glancing at the locker, he hesitates a moment and nods his head again, reaching out for a coke. Why not? But then he's pulling his backpack around, and pulling out a pen and a notebook, "Thank you for this opportunity, then." Of course thanking her twice is overmuch, but considering his left hand is still absolutely throbbing with pain, he's not thinking as clearly as he could. "I suppose its best to start at the beginning and the beginning of any conversation is introductions. Herc referred to you as Bea, is that how you would prefer me to refer to you in the piece? And would you be willing to be photographed? Its not necessary."
*
Bea smiles, and then frowns when she notices Eddie compensating for the lost fingers. "Oh shit," she says politely. "Well, first off, let me help you with that." She retrieves a first aid kit from under some ramen packets and cracks open the rectangular plastic case. "This is the good stuff. I even have some local anesthetic if you want it. At the least though…" she mutters to herself as she plucks out some gauze, disinfectant, pain pills and one bottle that looks like antibiotic.
"Are you right handed? How about you take notes while I work on this?" All the while her too-long fingers are like giant spiders plucking and prepping the first aid supplies.
*
This is becoming weirder by the moment: she's so nice. Yet she's leading the man eating bug invasion. But, Eddie nods his head slowly, and reaches his left hand out, "Fortunately, yes, I'm right handed." He winces a bit, "After the ants went crazy — my sympathy for the loss of the Queen — one attacked Herc. He tried to get me away and mostly succeeded, but some saliva got me anyways." Resting the notebook on his lap, he poises his pen over the pages, "A local would be appreciated. I don't want anything to numb the mind, as I think— and this is not flattery— you deserve my full attention. So, Miss…? Is Bea appropriate?"
*
Working deftly, Bea prepares everything in neat, orderly fashion, and in seconds the local anesthetic is working, and her overly extended fingers (Oh, there's an extra joint in each finger. That explains it!) make quick work of cleaning and bandaging Eddie's hand. While she works, she answers his question, "No, not for this. You may call me Bea, here and now. But the world should know me as Beatrice Garretson." She pauses to peer at his notes, helping with spelling.
*
"Then please, call me Eddie." The man tries to smile, but though the local helps, it ends up a bit like a grimace. Still, it's something. He watches her extra long fingers work, and any other time, he might have opinions (like, say, OMG Freak!): but he's on duty, now, plus she's helping fix up his poor hand. The weirdness is intense. "Okay, then, Bea. Nice to meet you. I suppose I'd like to know what is important to you: why you're here, with your… army? Is it an invasion? I'm sure there was some sort of provocation."
*
"Eddie, then," Bea says with a smile. Many would find it disconcerting just how beautiful she would be without all of the insectoid features. "It's nice to meet you too. And yes, there was provocation. Grover's Mill earned their fate ten times over. Many places in this country are cruel to mutant children, but the people of Grover's Mill took it upon themselves to make it clear that 'freaks' like me were not welcome there."
"Even the /schoolteachers/ were cruel. When my own parents gave up on me and asked me to leave, I'd had enough. You can't get a job. An apartment. You can't even beg for food. People want mutants to shrivel up and die. Or go away. Where are we supposed to go?" A thin layer of Bea's politeness flakes away like dry skin, and just a touch of her venom peeks through.
Bea closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's painful to talk about. But your question: It is not an invasion. We're already here. Mutants are everywhere. But if the non-mutants are going to refuse us basic decency, we'll have to take it by force. Grover's Mill is a warning. Not a declaration of war. No one will want to see that declaration. Include me. It gives me no pleasure to hurt people. But I won't be stepped on any longer. Or allow mutants to be steamrolled under some twisted sense of 'the greater good'."
*
Through all of this, Eddie writes out some notes: and if Bea can see the notes themselves, they look like complete jibberish. Shorthand, if she's ever seen anyone doing stenography. He's nodding along with her, frowning a bit, "I understand, I think. It's not an invasion, but a revolution you're after, is that right? Not to rule, but to get basic, common rights. A civil rights movement, only, you've been pushed to the brink. I'm sorry it had to come to that. Everyone should just be free. Black, hispanic, mutant." He hesitates, "Is Herc a mutant too? He looks so completely inhuman, but clearly has human intelligence— even kindness."
*
Bea's eyes narrow again, but only briefly, studying Eddie when he speaks. "That's right, a civil rights movement. But without the hypocrisy of some church behind us. I don't want to hurt people, but I refuse to be denied our rights."
Bea turns and reaches down to pat the ant on the floor. When she sits up again it's already shrinking back down to regular size. "I don't know what Herc is. Not exactly. Aside from my friend. But he started as big beetle when I was a girl. Over time, he became more and more like you and me." She shrugs, apparently out of commentary on the topic.
*
"That's perfectly understandable. No oppression has ever in history not resulted in an uprising against it, in one form or another." He eyes the ant a long moment, "I don't expect you to give away any secrets or weaknesses, of course, but is that what you… do?" Eddie gestures to the ant, "Take insects and increase their size? And apparently, intelligence. Over time, at least. That's fascinating, and my biology professor in college would say impossible— but mutants do all sorts of impossible things. Is there anything you want people to know otherwise?"
*
Bea thinks for a long moment, perhaps considering whether she's revealing too much, and then finally says, "Yes, to the best of my understanding. I make insects bigger. And I think a biologist would be fascinated to have had a tenth of the conversations I've had with different species of insects. I'm constantly amazing that regular humans don't want to collaborate with mutants more often. Think of where society would be heading if we were working together instead of against each other." Bea shakes her head, openly disappointed by the perceived loss.
*
Notes continue, and Eddie nods his head sympathetically, "Finally, I have to ask: if you get what you want, if mutant rights are normalized, will you be willing to stand up for a jury of your peers and answer for what happened at Grover's Mill? A lot of people did die." He pauses, "Or would you expect a pardon as part of the the deal?"
*
"Oh, I don't expect to survive our revolution," Bea says calmly. "I'm also not naive enough to think I haven't turned many humans against the mutant plight by my own actions. But if? Absolutely. I want to be part of that system. If there is a courtroom that allows mutants on the jury, I'll stand for whatever punishment they see fit. Because we've succeeded." Without having summoned him, Herc appears in the doorway he disappeared through earlier. Behind him is a humanized preying mantis. She is bright green, with lighter green to almost white sections of her abdomen.
Bea stands as well and offers to shake Eddie's hand. "Well Mr. Brock, I hope you'll forgive me, but Herc is going to see you out, and we have to make sure you can't really can't find your way back." Stepping onto the raised section that is Bea's living space, Herc puts a hand on Eddie's shoulder, and gently(*) punches him in the temple, sending him to night-night land.
*Gentle for a beast who flips tanks for fun.