Foreshadowing would have done wonders for making the film more thematically cohesive, so with the following story I sought to share what I thought might have lead into the events of the film. Something must have happened in the weeks preceding their adventure. And who's to say that someone else didn't have their own adventure? Thus, the character of 'Stanley the Bugman' found his way into the film's universe. I hope that I've given him an appropriate spin.
Let me know what you all think and whether the story should continue!
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"I can assure you that there are no alligators in the metropolitan sewer system."
Two men sat across from each other in a lavish room overlooking the street below. The first, who had just insisted for perhaps the third time that no reptiles of any kind lived under the streets, was Stanley Scapelli. Stanley was just south of thirty with a body in its prime and a boyish mop of uncombed black hair. He was young, but experienced in his trade.
The man across from him, in contrast, was beyond 40. He had the aging body of a former enforcer; still built, yet long since accustomed to being pampered. His hair was even darker than Stanley's, though he kept it slicked back with heavy grease. This was Anthony Scapelli, Stanley's cousin. He was just as experienced in his own trade.
"Right. I get that," started Anthony, "but you have to see where I'm coming from." He poured himself a glass of wine from an expensive bottle, though Stanley could tell by the label that it was not worth the price.
"I got men down there every day and something has them spooked." He paused, taking a slow drink from his glass before continuing. "This isn't good. I got business. I need this project on the river completed in a month and, of course, I got to have a foundation first else it wont pass inspection.
"So's I do things right. I send men down to check things out. Things seem okay for a few weeks, but now I have damaged equipment and a crew too scared of growling to get back to work."
"Pipes," said Stanley.
"What?"
"It's probably the pipes," Stanley elaborated. "Old pipes echoing noise a block away."
"Whatever. Still doesn't explain the broke equipment. Equipment I have to pay honest money to replace."
Stanley coughed. That was a bullshit line and Anthony knew it. Did he really have to play that charade with him?
"You know, you're lucky you're family, Stan, else I wouldn't put up with you."
Stanley didn't care. Anthony had always been a rough guy. Hotheaded and not terribly bright, but he had learned a business and made money. He could buy respect and acceptance now. Their family respected him for it, so they ignored the bad time work and kept on his good side. Except for Stanley.
"Could be anything," he responded. "Rats chewing the wiring. Even water damage." There was silence for a moment. Anthony stared at him, sizing him up. Stanley could tell that he was on thin ice.
Finally: "Rats, water, alligators... Whatever. I just need you to settle this for me."
"What do you expect me to do?" Stanley shifted in his chair. He'd learned never to take a job from his cousin.
"You're the bug-man. Figure it out."
"Extermination contractor," Stanley intoned.
"What?"
"I'm a contractor, specializing in pest control and removal. I am not a 'bug-man.'"
"Whatever, Stan. Can you do the work?"
Stanley ignored the question. "Respect my profession, Tony. It's honest work. Unlike those of certain others."
Anthony glared. He looked downright pissed. His fists clenched white; for a moment Stanley thought the delicate stem of the wine glass might snap, but instead he smiled his toothy grin and began to speak.
"As I recall, you didn't care much for 'respectable' when you needed that loan a few years back." Anthony continued his smile, taking a sip from the glass.
Now it was Stanley's turn to get angry. His lip twitched, but he was much better at self-control. He calmed down. It was true, after all; he had needed a loan to keep his business afloat after his equipment had broken and he couldn't afford to replace it all or be out of work for several weeks. He had come to Anthony and taken the loan. It was paid back in-full, though his cousin never seemed to stop letting it hang over his head.
He sighed. "What do you need me to do?"
"That's the spirit. Always nice to know family can be there for family." He laughed, then continued: "I need you to get down there and take care of whatever this is before the city finds out and shuts us down. If it's rats, kill 'em. Do what you have to do."
It wasn't an extreme request. Stanley could certainly take a look, though how Anthony expected him to clear out the sewer system of the largest city in the world of its pests he couldn't say.
"Fine. I can do that."
Anthony looked pleased. He took another sip from his glass, afterwards swirling the red drink. "Whatever it is, cousin, take care of it. I know you can."
Stanley stood up. He was ready to get out of there, but he stopped and turned:
"I can assure you, " he began, "that your problem is not alligators."
Stanley arrived at the construction site later that night. The night guard unlocked the gate, allowing him to park his van near the ramp to the service elevator. He flipped off the ignition and sighed. He didn't want to be here, but he had no choice. His cousin had connections. It was because of him that he was even still in business. Any other extermination company would have been extorted into oblivion. It was only these odd jobs that kept him from having to make exorbitant "protection" fees.
He sighed again, then opened the door. He stepped out and zipped up his uniform before walking around to the back to grab a small box of equipment. That was it. He was ready for the job.
He walked up the ramp to the service elevator, which served as the entrance to the work area below. The cage door creaked as he pulled it aside, revealing a rickety platform that he had no doubt was not OSHA-compliant. It was not something he could worry about, though. He instead turned it on, the motors grinding as it began its descent.
Moments later the elevator arrived at the bottom of the shaft. Stanley slid open the door and stepped out. He waited for his eyes to adjust, then felt his hand against the wall for the the large power switch on the wall to the lights. At least he found it, switched it on and waited.
Nothing happened. Stanley stood still for awhile longer, waiting, yet the dark remained. He gave the switch another flip off-and-on, waited again, and still the dark remained. He groaned, about to unhook the flashlight on his belt, but then the overhead lanterns began to flicker to life.
Of course the electricty's bad, Stanley thought.
He then looked around, taking in the dimly-lit chamber. It was a small room with a low ceiling with stacked crates and various power tools lazily strewn about. A corridor trailed off from each side of the chamber; one lead under the city while the other continued through to the other side of the East River. It was a small room, but there was still space enough for him to work.
He quickly set to work, placing his equipment box on one of the nearby crates. He opened it and examined the contents: various poisons, traps and tools, including bait, sticky pads and even a dissassembled insect net. Stanley liked to be an exterminator with options.
He took a handful of traps and several types of bait, then made his way into the corridor on the left. He found every area that a creature of reasonable size might be hiding and laid a trap with bait at the entrance. He continued for nearly a half-hour until he reached the entrance to the subway tunnels, which was well out of his cousin's work area. If anything were coming from there he would just have to wait for it to come to him.
Stanley then returned to the main chamber and took another set of traps and bait, making his way through the other corridor. He placed as many traps as he could, but because the tunnels under the East River were more confusing and often dangerous he soon ran out. There were simply too many tunnels, crevices and holes. Most were too small to fit his arm into, yet large enough for a snake or other creature. It would have been just too inefficient to cover every crack. Stanley decided that what he had brought would just have to be enough. He returned to the main chamber 45 minutes later.
Several hours passed before anything happened. Stanley made regular checks of the traps, which only served in catching a few cockroaches and rats. Nothing large enough to cause any of the damage that Anthony mentioned. He was about to call it a night when he suddenly became aware of a low humming noise.
Stanley looked around, confused. There was definitely a faint humming. At first it remained faint and distant, making him momentarily reconsider, but then it began to grow louder. He stood still so he could pinpoint the sound's origin, slowly turning his head back and forth to gauge its direction. He could just barely make it out from deep within the right corridor.
So, slowly, he began to follow the sound to its source. The humming grew louder as he walked until finally it became an incessant buzzing. He was about to enter the next chamber when, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.
Stanley paused. Perhaps it was just the sounds of the river above? Or maybe the echoes in the popes. He felt foolish for following it so curiously. He was just about to turn back when it started again, even louder than before. With that he turned the corner and looked into the chamber. His eyes widened as he tried to process what he was looking at. It was absolutely unbelievable.
Flying around the room like a monstrous toy airplane was the largest insect he had ever seen in his life. The creature was easily three feet long with huge, delicately veined wings. It looked like a dragonfly. However, he knew that dragonflies were not native to the city, nor were they an insect that lived underground. It just didn't make sense.
Stanley watched it buzz around the chamber for awhile longer before he realized that in order for him to truly grasp what he was dealing with he would have to catch it. He then slowly crept back to the main chamber for his equipment box. Once there, he pulled out the bug net, slowly screwing the pieces together as returned to the loud humming. He peered into the chamber and saw that the dragonfly was now resting on one of the crates, its wings gently fluttering. Stanley stared at it for awhile and realized just how enormous it really was. He hoped the net would be large enough to contain it.
Finally, the net was assembled. Stanley began to move forward, barely an inch at a time. He did not want to disturb the dragonfly. If it took flight he might not get another chance. He stepped in a puddle, the splash causing the insect to flap its wings in irritation. Stanley stood still for a moment until it calmed, then began moving again.
He was mere inches behind it now. He took a breath and swung the net, closing around it within an instant. Immediately the dragonfly's wings began to flap, giving off a sound like a small turbine. Stanley dropped the net with the opening to the ground, allowing the dragonfly to fruitlessly buzz around in its mesh cage. He then set a nearby toolbox onto the net's handle and left to retrieve a more suitable container from his van. It was no alligator, but it was certainly still an amazing find.
