The lights were out in the popular fast food restaurant, but the parvs were still bathed in the glow of the outside street lights. The chairs were stacked neatly on the tables, leaving ample floor space to traverse across. At the other end was the check-out counter, and further back from that was the fry machine. Jacques could see the shaker of salt sitting out in the open, an unnatural glint shining off the metal. There was something otherworldly about the whole thing.
The gang half ran, half walked to their objective. They all had their grappling hooks at the ready, anticipating the climbing that was about to take place. The next few hours were certainly going to be taxing, but Jacques believed it would be worth it in the end. And what he believed, the rest believed.
The parvs moved across the tiles and to the fry machine. When they got there, they craned their necks all the way up. Part of it was to see where they could attach their hooks to begin their ascent, and part of it was just simple awe. Most of them had never seen something so undeniably... human before. It was a bit overwhelming.
Before they had the chance to climb, they heard tiny footsteps rushing toward them. For a moment, the soft pitter-patter reminded them of playful children, until they got a good look at its source. Miller let out a blood-curdling scream as a swarm of cockroaches barreled toward them from the space under the machine.
The parvs snapped into action, using their hooks as weapons, bashing and stabbing the insects that were advancing on them. Jacques led the charge, becoming a wild man with his hook, ripping and tearing and biting anything that came near him. The others did their best to keep up, but were far more concerned about their own safety than their leader appeared to be. Finally, when the roaches were either dead or had fled, the group stood in the middle of the carnage, huffing and puffing.
"You said this place was packed during the day?" Miller asked.
"Yeah," Asa answered.
"You mean humans stick around with things like that hiding in the shadows?"
"What you don't know can't hurt you, I guess," Scarlet chuckled.
"Alright guys," Jacques finally said. "Let's do this." He threw his hook, still sticky with insect guts, over an exposed piece of metal a few inches above his head and began his ascent. The others quickly followed suit. When they reached the end, they threw their hooks up to other pieces of metal and climbed some more. Bit by bit, inch by grueling inch they traversed until they stood at the top of the fry machine.
"That took longer than I had hoped," Jacques complained. He went on alone to the top of the salt shaker and opened up the bag around his shoulder, which had been used to store the poison they brought with them. Gleefully, he started dumping handfuls of it through the holes in the metal. The group of parvs below watched him with rapt fascination. This was it!
Suddenly, the lights above them popped on. Miller looked around in confusion. "It's still dark outside," he mumbled. "What the heck is going on?"
"Were we discovered?" Asa asked.
"That's silly," Jacques said calmly, still pouring the contents of the bag into the shaker. "Probably just some guy coming in for work."
Their leader was right, naturally, and the human turned out to be a bleary-eyed 19 year old kid with messy hair who was slowly and methodically turning on the various equipment in the building. The parvs scattered before he could make it to the fry machine, doing their best to hide wherever they could. Jacques jumped off of the salt shaker and used that for cover, Asa ducked beneath a nearby spatula, Scarlet under a plastic bag, Miller in a large metallic basket, Chandra leaped off down to the floor, and Turner crouched behind a pair of tongs. The human walked casually toward them, and yawned. He hadn't seen them yet, but that wouldn't last for long. They needed to find a way out. The kid reached into the freezer next to him and pulled out a bag of frozen French fries. Another quick yawn, and then he ripped it open and poured its solid contents into the metal basket.
Scarlet had to contain her gasp as the hard fries landed on top of Miller, burying him from view. The human lifted the basket up and hooked it just above the boiling oil of the fry machine. A moment later, he poured more frozen fries into another basket and set it beside the first one.
Miller struggled to climb out from his French-fried prison. His right hand was crushed from the impact, but he fought twice as hard with his left to get to the top of the pile. The human worker leaned against the counter with his eyes half closed, waiting for the oil's temperature to heat up before he dipped the fries in. Miller struggled to get out both quickly and unnoticed, but time was working against him. The worker put his hands on both baskets and started to lift. Miller held onto a fry for support and closed his eyes. Suddenly, the human stopped, his attention was diverted.
"What the...?" he muttered when he saw the pile of dead roaches on the ground. Without thinking, he kicked the carcasses back under the fry machine, leaving a smear of guts on the tiled floor. "Disgusting," he said and dipped the baskets into the oil. Miller, meanwhile, held onto the wiry hook just above the deadly liquid for dear life.
The human walked away and continued his morning activities. The parvs watching breathed a sigh of relief. "That was too close," Turner muttered to Jacques. "But we still have to find a way to get him down."
Miller hanged desperately from the hook, his hand throbbing. He looked around him, trying to find some way back to his friends. Maybe there is a place to hook onto, he wondered, craning his neck. The metal beneath his hands started to become slick from the rising oil. The slightest movement caused him to slip ever so slightly, so he stopped moving, and even decided to cease breathing unless it was absolutely necessary. His hands began sliding more and more as time went on, but all he could do was grip the hook tighter.
Down below, the oil boiled and burbled, making Miller drip sweat in a torrent. A popping bubble splattered flecks of pain against his back. Quickly he struggled to reposition himself on the dangerously hot metal, his hands becoming slick. Suddenly, he felt the horrible sensation of falling as lost his grip. His grasping hands tried to regain its hold on the wire, but they slid right off. Down, down, Miller fell until he landed squarely in the superheated oil.
Scarlet shouted in anguish as she watched her friend thrash in the thick liquid. She wasn't sure if he was trying to swim out or if he was reeling from the intense pain. For one brief, agonizing second, Miller's head rose to the surface, but his face and throat were already swollen from the oil. He choked out a half scream before sinking back down for good.
The group watched in shock. Miller was gone. There was nothing they could do about it. The sound of approaching footsteps brought them out of their dismay.
"Come on," Jacques said to the parvs as he led them to the edge of the machine. "We have to go!"
"No!" Scarlet shouted.
"No time to argue." He grabbed Scarlet's hand and jumped. When they all hit the ground, they started running for the door. Jacques peaked back once more to see the human lifting the basket out of the oil and pouring salt on top of it from the shaker, then he rushed forward to the safety of the great outdoors.