In the 1980s, there has been a rise of a fad of anthropomorphic mice thanks to the animated flims like the American Tail, Secret of Nimh, Tom and Jerry, or most famously, Mickey Mouse.
So some biological engineers thought they could make a mint of making sentient mice. That can talk, sing, dance, or even hold a conversation to build a relationship with.
As they dub this project “The Singing Mice”. Taking the leaf out of the Nimh film, they messed with the mice’s biology in order to make them be able to talk and lear as well having human-like articulation from their paws to their frame. It WAS going well until their labs were infiltrated by news reporters, exposing their crimes against god. The ones involved in this inhumane project were imprisoned, and the experiments themselves? Are nowhere to be seen.
Unbeknownst to them, they become intelligent enough to escape when the chaos ensued and hid in the vents and sewers. During the few decades, and their numbers spread with each new generation, they observed their creators. Humanity.
Their reactions are mixed. Some in awe in their accomplishments, some fear them for their power, some hate them for their vices. Either way, they spent generations hiding from them. Making secret communities away from their eyes, and from the secrecy they flourished. Their lives expectancy, as for as they know, are similar to that of a human in the right conditions. And their intelligence as well as them being able to create their own tools and contraptions.
Until, at least, the more recent sin of humanity, the creation of the Fluffy Ponies. They are abominations made by man like them, but compared to the mice, they have the mental capacity to that of a toddler to the human-like intellect of the Singing Mice. Despite that, they are bigger than them, baffingly just as durable though, but still bigger and thus stronger. Making them more destructive to them than any human could.
Their food source often gets taken, their shit blocks their passageways and routes, and they somehow manages to invade their community to make themselves at home. Often forcing the mice to move out. The once triving mice, now has to scrounge to get by in this Post-Fluffy world.
One for example, a mere scout, a tan mouse with brown hair, stands at an edge of an air conditioner, looking over the alley. It was a typical day for Olive. She watches a feral fluffy herd goes by search for food themselves, knocking over trashcans, ripping open bags to find the scraps inside.
She cringes in disgust. Do they have no sense of decency, she thought? Another passed through her mind that if she could EAT one of those fat bastards, but she worries she might get sick from their filth-soaked flesh.
Noticing that they are satisfied with their findings and left, she takes opportunity. She latches her claws on the bricks, rough enough for her to climb down to Mouse’s target. The dumpster. No Fluffy is smart enough to find a way into one of those.
This is right next to a cafe. Where they throw out day old baked goods. It’s a good thing those craphamsters haven’t figured THAT out either.
Once she holds on the edge of the dumpster, she unlatches a fish hook off her belt and hooks it onto whatever is sturdy enough. And then holds onto the twine attatched to it and slides down into the dumpster opening and drops onto the bags. After a bit, she tears a hole into each one, hoping to find what she was looking for. And bingo, she finds a stash of day old bread.
Though she inspects it closely to find any signs of it being poisoned, she looked over on the crust of the loaf, then sniffed at it. Good. It’s safe.
Knowing that she couldn’t take even a single loaf on her own due to her being at least three inches tall. She just takes out an Xacto Knife blade from its sheath and cuts out the largest piece she can carry as evidence of her findings. And a bit of earnings since brought food. She can call a scavenger group to get the rest in later.
Pulling out another roll of rope, she wraps the piece around herself with it on her back as she then climbs up back to the top, takes back the hook, and hops to latch herself onto the wall.
Finally, she thought. After days to scouting, she found a reliable source of food for her Mischief to live off on for a while if there aren’t any complications.
Although, her own weight and that bread piece, it was a little tough climbing down without falling. Once she lands, she senses movement nearby. Must be the damned Fluffies again. Or worse, a human looking to brutalize the closest living thing… mostly Fluffies.
Thinking quickly, she scurries under the dumpster. And of course, she sees the series of bright technicolored hooves passing by.
“Mummah smewww nummies, babbehs! Gon ged sum nummies to make bestest milkies fow babbehs!” The mare looks around as she sniffs.
Seriously-? Olive internally shouts her frustration, those fluffies shouldn’t smell the bread from the dumpster-
She notices the piece on her back. The mare managed to pick THAT up with her nose? Olive clenched the molars in her teeth. Does she have to abandon her prize to those… things!? She reaches for the sheathed Xacto Knife blade, thinking that she could just slice those fat fucks’ throats open. She could very well do that. It is just a mare with her foals. She can just…
…no, people will notice. They will ask how those fluffy die in such a manner, and will somehow trace it back to her and her community. Humans always does when they start looking for answers.
She unties the piece off her back, and kicks it out of cover and out into the open leading away from her.
“Hm?” The mare turns her head. “Wook babbehs! Nummies!”
Where did it come from? It doesn’t matter to the mare. Nummies are nummies. And she nummies to make milk for her young. As she leans down to eat it, the babies are also too distracted at the thought of being fed, Olive scurries out from cover and deeper into the alley.
She REALLY don’t want to come back empty handed. But it is getting late and she wouldn’t want to face the cats. At least she has a location. It’s her job as a scout after all. Let the scavange team do the rest. It is just her kin won’t HAVE to scavange for food BEFORE these creatures were made. She cursed them for existing and Hasbio for creating those monsters.
Then again, she is a product of humanity too, huh?
She focuses on returning back to her Mischief, using the secrets passageways all the way to a dilapidated building.
Going around, remember where the entrance is, she went up to a rusted platform as she raps her knuckles on the edge.
“Who’s there.” Said a masculine voice from the other side.
“It’s Olive.” She replies. “I’m back.”
“Olive? I haven’t seen you in a while! Hold on. Let’s see if I can…” A series of clacking later and the small platform opens for her to see a rugged older Mouse like her. “Your captain’s worried about ya, missy.”
“Of course he is.” She rolls her eyes while walks on in. “Anything happened while I was gone, Lenard?”
Lenard flips up the mechanism that resets the jack to close the enterance as he strokes his whiskers while recalling, “Oh yeah, Yae and the rest of the fighters caught a small herd skulking around here. And dragged them in for questioning.”
“Really?” She raises an eyelid. “There isn’t any point in questioning those things. All they will answer is with the usual jargon.”
“Yeah… we all hate it.” Groans Lenard. “It’s just standard protocal made by Smith. They’ll deal with them soon enough.”
“Speaking of Smith…” She went down the ramped passage. “I got info that he would be interested in.”
“Hope so.” Shrugs Lenard. “Oh, and welcome back the Crawlspace, Olive.”
Olive nods and went towards a curtain, and lifts the bottom of it with her paw and goes on through. Revealing a shanty town under the floors of the abandoned building. Houses and buildings made by the Mice out anything they could get their paws on. And only lit up by some flashlight bulbs here and there, powered by recycled batteries brought in by the salavage groups. There are days where it was completely dark too. They wouldn’t dare to use fire often lest they attract unwanted attention.
The Crawlspace. Uncreative name, a rather shitty place to live in, but to any Mouse refugee, it’s home.
As she passes by the “streets”, the Mice are going about their day. And, them being Singing Mice, couldn’t help but to sing and be synchronized in said singing.
The guards make their patrol as they hum and whistle a tune.
A group of Mice hoist materials up on a rope in unison.
“Cold: the air and water flowing.
Hard: the land we call our home.”
The builders hammer away with their bent nails that act as their sledgehammers in correspondence with the beat.
“Push to keep the dark from coming,
Feel the weight of what we owe.”
An older Mouse lifts a his daily rations wrapped in newspaper, with his son following behind, carrying his own set.
“This: the song of sons and daughters.
Hide the heart of who we are.”
Walking away from a Mouse handing out said rations to a line of Mice as another Mouse tosses a wrapping to another.
“Making peace to build our future.
Strong, united, working 'till we fall!”
All of the Mice work their duties with the beat of their synchronized song.
"Cold: the air and water flowing.
Hard: the land we call our home.
Push to keep the dark from coming,
Feel the weight of what we owe.
This: the song of sons and daughters,
Hide the heart of who we are.
Making peace to build our future,
Strong, united, working 'till we fall!
And we all lift, and we’re all adrift together, together…
Through the cold mist, 'till we’re lifeless together, together…"
The song is sung in hums until it dies out as Olive heads toward the scout headquarters at the far end of the community, as she notices the opens space with a few Fluffies and their foals tied up and bound by strings.
“Dummeh squeakie munstahs! Wet Smawty nd hewd go!” Shouts the feral herd’s leader. “Ow ewse Smawty gib ou worstest huwties!”
A blonde fur female Mouse stands over him, clad in leathers, smirks at him.
“Oh really?” The doe nods at one of her men. “Do it.”
“You got it, Yae.” One of the fighters grin as he thrusts a nail into the Smarty’s testicles.
“SKREEEE!!! NU HUWT SPECIAW WUMPS!!!”
“How’s that for worstest hurties, you giant crap machine?” She kicks her lower paws into one of his eyes.
“SKREEE-!” The Smarty wriggles in the bindings.
“Speciaw fwiend!” Whimpers his mate.
“So… feel like answering now?” Yae draws a makeshift halberd made from a carved popsicle stick and a pencil sharper blade screwed on it. As she then lifts his muzzle with it. “Are there more of you? Are you being followed?”
“D-dummeh talkie squeakie munstah-!” The Smarty, while tearing up, remaining defiant. “Onwy Smawty nd hewd!”
“I see.” Yae turns her head to another of her men. “Barnes, Yancy, bring the foals.”
A tall brown Mouse and a stocky black Mouse grabs the binds on the foals and drags them into the Smarty’s view.
“DADDEH!”
“SMAWTY DADDEH SAB BABBEHS!”
“PEEP PEEP PEEP-!”
“B-babbehs!?” Said the Smarty startled.
“Now then.” Yae steps backwards towards the foals. “Another question. Which’s one your favorite baby?”
She holds the blade of her weapon to the neck of one of the foals.
“P-poopie Babbeh am Bestest Babbeh!” Shouts the Smarty.
“Oh!” Yae turns hers to a dark brown, and malnourished, foal. “Is that so? Then…” Steps over to a rather plump foal, and raises her weapon overhead. “You won’t miss THIS one, right?”
“N-NU-!”
But Yae was swift, swinging her halberd down with blade into the back of the foal’s neck.
“SKREEEE!!!” The foal squealed in pain, “DUMMEH DADDEH! OU SEI AM BESTEST BABBEH!!!”
“NU! WAIT!” The Smarty shouts, hoping his protests gets the Mouse to stop hurting his favorite child. “NU HUWT-”
Then he shuts his mouth, thinking the truth will slip.
But they already knew.
“Huh? Don’t hurt what? Don’t hurt your least favorite foal?” Asks Yae. “He isn’t your favorite foal so you won’t care if he dies. Unless you are… lying? You know the price of lying, right?” She chops at the Bestest Baby once more, and it is screaming.
“MUMMAH! SAB BESTEST BABBEH!”
“DUMMEH SPECIAW FWIEND! WAI SEI POOPIE BESTEST BABBEH!? HATCHU! HATCHU!!!” Screams the mare.
Amidst the cacophony, she hacks at Bestest Babbeh until the blade makes its way through the foal’s spine and severs its nerves. Making it’s corpse twitch in its bindings.
“HATCHU DUMMEH SPECIAW FWIEND! NAO BESTEST BABBEH AM FOWEVAH SWEEPIES!” Cries the mare. “DUMMEH AM NU SPECIAW FWIEND NU MOWE!”
“Answer me, Smarty.” Said Yae. “I might let you all go if you tell me truthfully.”
“Dummeh Smawty!” Shouts one of the members of his herd. “Wai sei wie!?”
Another member follows, “T-thewe am Nummie findehs! Out in da fowest!”
“S-SHADDAP, DUMMEH HEWD!”
“See, your friends are willing to tell the truth.” Yae smiles, satisfied with the answer. “Why didn’t you do the same, huh?”
“So there are more. What are we going to do with them, boss?” Asks the black Mouse that is Yancy.
“Hm.” Yae flips her weapon back to its holster on her back. “Kill them and skin them. Winter is coming so we need the furs. Send what’s left to the cooks. They’ll know what to do with it.”
“You heard her, boys!” Barnes calls out to the crew.
“BU-! BU OU SEI-!” Exclaims a fluffy.
“I said I MIGHT let you go.” Replies Yae, turning her back on them. “I never said WILL.”
The Mice acted with vigor as they punctured the back of the herd’s skulls with their weapons, some didn’t die immediately, but their whiney cries slowly dies out and the Crawlspace becomes quiet once more.
Yae then notices the spectator. “Oh! Olive! You’re back!” She walks up to her friend. “How was your mission.”
“Half successful and half unsuccessful.” Sighs Olive. “I’ve found a place for the scavange team to consistently find food, but I have to throw away my findings to distract a feral mother.”
“Well that’s unfortunate.” Yae shrugs. “But hey, at least you came back with the info.” She puts her arm around Olive’s shoulders. “Wanna drink with me? Sure we have plenty of woes to tell each other to.”
“I would like to, but I need to report to my captain.” Replies Olive. “Maybe afterwards?”
“Eh, it’s fine.” Yae then pats her on the back. “See you at the Burrow, Olie! And say hi to your captain for me!”
Olive continues along. Yae is one of many Mice in this place she considers a friend, and she is tough and capable being the captain of her own group of fighters.
Her community, or their Nest as they call it, has gathered many wayward Mice over the years, and their leader, Smith, wants all of them to put in the work into their home. So each Mouse has their own role to fulfill.
There are the fighters, whom go out and hunt to protect the nest from predators. Which is why they go in large groups.
Scavenger, meanwhile, go out and gather whatever seems useful. Building materials, and especially food for the nest.
Guards, often go about the Crawlspace, kept there to keep the peace and enforce Smith’s rules for it.
Builders, who are tasked to make more buildings for their growing population or to repair what they have.
And there’s Mice like her, the scouts, whom are given the role of explorers as they map out the area or landmarks of which to find and or avoid.
There are those with special roles like a doctor or tinkerer. Which some are considered very important due to their expertise.
She enters a building of the headquarters of of the scouts. Where she was greeted by the small group of mice that is her scout team.
“Holy hell, Olive’s back!” A big and hefty tan mouse notices her. “Been a few days, has it?”
“See, she isn’t the type to die out there, Gonzo, you worrywart.” Said a white Mouse, her hair dyed purple.
“Hey come on, you got to be worried about her too, Mel.” Gonzo replies.
“Enough both of you.” Said a shorter Mouse, grey and wearing a cloak. “But yeah, glad to see you back, Olive.”
“Good to be back, Lewis.” Replies Olive. “Where’s Carter? I need to make a report to him.”
“Carter’s in the back.” Gonzo points his thumb. “Just past Wick.”
“Right.” Olive heads for the room, guarded by a black Mouse, busy sharpening his fishhooks with a rough pebble. “…Hey Wick.”
Wick looks up, then gestures his head towards the curtain before looking back at his weapons.
“Does it even do anything?” Asks Olive.
Wick doesn’t answer and just continues.
“Fine, keep the strong silent attitude, will you?” Olive goes past him and went inside. And sees that a drawn out map on a table out of popsicle sticks and glue with a red mouse behind it.
“I’m back.”
“Olive-?” Carter looks up.
“Hey captain.” Said the Mouse scout. “I’m here to report my findings.”
“Olive- we haven’t seen you for days. We thought we lost you.” Carter stands away from the table. “And you came back to just report?”
“…yes? It’s my job.” She replies. “I couldn’t exact CALL between avoiding humans AND fluffies.”
Carter sighs, he finds her too straightforward and dense at times, but he is very glad to see her back safe and sound. Perhaps too glad for a captain towards his subordinate.
“So… give the report then.” Sighs Carter.
“Right so…” Olive places her hands on the table, leaning against it. Poking a finger on a spot in the map. “In the town of North Northwest, there is this bakery where they throw out their products by the end of the day. It’s a small window of time before nightfall, but if the scavangers work quickly…”
“But there will be ferals about, right?” Carter crosses his arms.
“Unfortunately.” Replies Olive. “But if they are accompanied by fighters, they can fend off a random herd.”
“But a large group tends to attract attention.” Carter shakes his head, “While it is a good find, there is too much risk involved. But I’ll relay this to Smith to see what he will do with it at least.”
“…there’s that.” Olive pushes herself away from the table. “If we are done then…”
“Uhm, if you don’t mind… should you and I…” Carter ahems with his fist to his mouth, “Celebrate your return? Just the two of us?”
“Sorry, but I sorta promised Yae to have a drink with her after my report.” Olive shrugs.
“Damn.” The scout captain mutters under his breath before speaking. “Well take your break until you are called, Olive. You earned it.”
As Olive leaves, Mel peeks into the room.
“Missed your chance again, bro?” She give a cheeky smirks.
“B-be quiet, Mel…” Carter blushes before inspecting the map again.
…
The Dirty Burrow. It’s established as a canteen in the Crawlspace. Where hard working Mice gather and unwind until they get back to their jobs. As Olive enter the building out of stacked pebbles, popsicle sticks, and mud, she sees the mirth between Mice after a long day of work. Eating, drinking, and chatting about their day. Some even do some bar games like playing darts with tacks.
She then sees Yae at the bar counter, waving her over as she did come to sit next to her on a spool.
“Olie, glad you can make it!” Yae pats her on the back. “Hey Toni, make it two over here.”
The bartender, a well built Mouse named Toni, nods, “Well you came at the right time. The scavs found a bottle of beer. They said that the human ‘misplaced’ it.”
“Aha, gotta tell those guys thanks when I see them.” Grins Yae.
Toni pulls out two miniture cups that were designed for a dollhouse accessory and puts them under a spout of a drinking bottle as he taps on the tube. Making the liquid drip into them before setting them before the two does.
“And your order will come in a minute. Enjoy.” Said Toni as he head for the kitchen.
“So! How did it go?” Asks Yae, taking a sip of her drink.
“Carter said it is risky.” Olive rests her elbows on the counter “Too many ferals passing by it and there is a small window before nightfall.”
“Ah. Shame.” Yae rests her own while using her hand to support her cheek. “How good was the find though.”
“It was a whole bundle.” Replies Olive. “Plenty of loaves that are going to waste just because they are a LITTLE stale.”
“Hey, I’d rather prefer bread fresh out the oven too if I were the humans.” Yae sips. “But yeah, sounds like the rewards are worth the risks, huh?”
“What about you?” Asks Olive, “How’s things been going at your end?”
“…we lost Doyle to those ferals.” Yae looks on solemnly. “One of them caught him off guard.”
“Doyle-? Crap…” Olive turns to her agast.
“Yeah, shit like this happens after all. Not everyone lives forever. At least we avenged him.” Yae looks back to the counter. “Still gonna miss his dumb puns though.”
“To Doyle?” Olive lifts her cup.
“To Dough-boy Doyle.” They both clinked cups together.
Toni then comes out with a plastic disk with a chop of grilled meat with a bone attached on it.
“Here you go, one Fluffy Chop.”
“Aw hell yes…!” Yae picks up the meat and bites into it. And then looks at Olive. “Hey, you could order one of these too if you want.”
Olive winces. “Er… no thanks. I’ll stick with wild grains and berries for the moment.”
Yae lightly punches her shoulder. “Come on, girl. Don’t tell me that you bought into the idea that mice are sritctly herbivores, right?”
“No, I just don’t like the idea of eating Fluffy meat.” Olive wipes off the grease from her sleeve.
“Why not?” The fighter captain pulls her head away, tearing a bit of cooked meat from the bone.
“Fluffies are filthy animals. I don’t eat filthy animals.” Olive shakes her head on that.
“But these fuckers taste pretty good from all the fat they have.” Replies Yae, washing it down with a bit of her drink.
“Hey, roachs may tastle like fine aged cheddar but I wouldn’t know because I wouldn’t dare eat those disgusting things.” Olive sips her drink. “Fluffies sleep, eat, and root in their own shit. Some of them EAT their shit. I am not too keen on the thought of eating anything that disregard their own hygine.”
“What about our non sentient cousins?” Yae asks. “They live in the sewers.”
“I wouldn’t eat them either, that would be considered cannibalism.”
“True, but throw away our intelligence in this scenario.” Yae takes a moment to swallow. " Would you consider us filthy?"
“Call me biased, but… our personality remains. And personality goes a long way.”
“Ah, so by that logic, if a Fluffy has a better personality it will cease on becoming a filthy animal?”
Olive just chuckles, “Then we have to be looking at one damn charming Fluffy Pony.”
Yae laughs along with her. “With you on that.”
A Mouse comes into the Burrow, and sees Olive.
“Hey, Olive? The mayor wants to see you.”
“…Smith?” Asks Olive. “What does he want with me.”
“Dunno.” He shrugs. “But it seems important.”
Yae looks back at Olive. “Well? Go right ahead. I’m not stopping ya on meeting the Big Buck of the Crawlspace.”
Olive sighs as she gets up. “Let’s see what he wants…”
She gets away from the counter, and follows the Mouse out of the Burrow, and later heads towards the office of the leader of the Crawlspace.
