Utterly Mad

Throughout the introductions, the eyes of the others kept drifting down to Catnip's neck. She had gotten used to it's weight around her neck, and had forgotten the collar that marked her out as a slave.

"When did they start giving slaves important jobs?" Patrick snarked. Tobin winced. "So rat, what makes you better than a normal person at this job? Why do you get it when a real person could be doing it?"

Catnip felt nettled, and a bit pissed. This Patrick was what anyone from the farm save mica or Kathrine would call, "a shithead." The "man" looked thin and pale, and quite possibly malnourished to the point of ghoulishness. She supposed it wasn't any kind of  mutation, just a mishap of genetics, sickness, or possibly drugs. The xenophobia of God's Army was one thing, but she was utterly unfamiliar with this brand of racist classism. "I built a train." She growled, hoping to take him off guard. He wasn't.

"I bet it was a peice of shit too, rats can't build anything good except warrens and crumb snatch-" Felicia, a sturdily built woman with a shock of curly blond hair, slapped Patrick on the back of the head hard enough to make his teeth click together.

"She's an expert mechanic in a town where mechanics have fallen out of practice or have stopped working altogether. Show some respect. She comes with glowing recommendations and even a good word from her owner, Ms. Pinky of-"

"Pinky!" Patrick cried, still rubbing his head, "So she isn't even a mechanic at all! She's one of Pinky's whores! Spread your legs for us little whore. How many dicks did you suck to-" Patrick said whore so that it rhymed with "tour," and it annoyed Catnip. Fortunately, before she herself could haul off and hit the man, Felicia did it for her. No slap this, but a hard right hook to the ear that sent him reeling and sprawling. Before he could rise and fight back like his body language suggested he would do, a boot came down on his back and held him.

"Making friends Felicia?" Said the head foreman. Felicia nodded seriously.

"Yessir. Just meeting the help and making friends all over the place." She said. Patrick managed to free himself from under the Foreman's boot and stand.

"I quit. Nobody said anything about having to work with rats. Whore rats!" The head foreman shook his head, but the smile never left his face.

"No you don't. You are up to your eyeballs in debt. You wanna pay it off, you'll keep working." At the mention of a debt, Patrick backed down with his cheeks ablaze. Catnip considered. It seemed even victims could be bullies.

"Alright ladies, have a seat. There are enough people here that we can get started. Specialists, front and center."