Creepy has a very logical, scientific mind, and, beyond that, he's a master strategist when it comes to
waging war, so he realizes how important it is to know one's enemy. Both as a matter of scientific curiosity
and a means of gathering potentially useful wartime intelligence, Creepy established Camp Creepy, where
randomly selected captured DBs are sent to be observed and analyzed.
As can be seen, it is pleasant, well-kept-up, albeit tightly secured little encampment, nestled deep in a valley
in some remote mountain range. Most of the resident DBs have been here for months, and when they are
not being studied in the main laboratory building, all they do all day long is dance around in an endless
circular conga line. Each of their little huts has a television set, but not one of them has ever watched, except
when clips of teens dancing to top ten hits are piped in over the closed system. But even then their watching
quickly gives way to getting out of bed and joining in the dancing, themselves.
So far, months of close study have revealed little about the DBs that was not already known. Intensive
training sessions have not been able to get across even the concept of the number, one, for example. There
has been one interesting discovery, though. Even with five daily diaper changes and frequent deep scrubs
and fumigations, the DB's characteristic stink lingers, but to a much diminished, near-tolerable degree. This
suggests that the stench is more than a matter of filthy diapers, but something intrinsic to DB physiology
that emanates from within. Fascinating!
