InsaneJournal

Current mood:	tired
Entry tags:	fanfic, lycanthropy

Beauty of the Beast 2/4
Title: Beauty of the Beast
Chapter Title: The Change
Rated: R
Pairing: None
Fandom: Invader Zim
Invader Zim belongs to Nickelodeon and its associates.
Notes from the last chapter

-----

This piece was written at the end of 2004. It has one incomplete prequel and two completed sequels. The entire series was considered lost in the middle of 2005 because of user error, a tragedy that caused me to cease writing Invader Zim fanfic. It and the rest of the series was found intact on a disk somewhere in the middle of 2006. It was edited in August of 2007.

This is the first time it has ever been posted. It shows the beginnings of my well-known darkness and the seeds of full-fledged cynicism, even hatred for humanity in some places.

Enjoy.

-----

Bill and Michael sat in the lunchroom, deep in an old argument. They were nursing cups of turpentine-like coffee and ignoring the sniggers around them.

“Oh come on, Bill,” complained Mike. “It’s a waste of good performance to make us drive these beautiful cars with beautiful engines using an automatic transmission. Have you even felt what it’s like to drive one of these manually?”

Bill leaned over and glared mysteriously. “Mike, how can you shoot if you need both hands to drive?” he asked.

“Look around you when you drive!” Mike demanded, arms waving like a frantic windmill. “There are people driving the same cars we do, in colors other than black, with a manual transmission, while holding a cell phone in one hand and a donut in the other. Hell, I’ve done it too. It’s possible to drive a manual and shoot.”

“Of course your aim’s horridly off,” Bill taunted.

Dib walked in, carrying a fresh cup of hot turpentine. “Bill, your aim sucks anyway,” he chided. “Remember Count Cocofang?”

“I’ll get the Fang if it’s the last thing I ever do!” Bill exclaimed, fist raised in insanity. Trench coat swirling behind, he stalked away.

“Still haven’t found the perfect car?” Dib asked as he took Bill’s vacated seat.

“Bill doesn’t understand that there are people out there, people in here more dexterous than him,” Mike complained. “I’ll bet he’s wondering why we haven’t crashed as many cars as him. Anyway, where were ya last week?”

“Bill gave me the week off after the werewolf thing,” Dib said.

“Man, I never get time off,” Mike said with a wistful sigh.

Dib sipped his coffee and quickly set it down. “Ugh. When will the kitchen learn?” he asked.

Mike glared at him.

“Fine. Bill gave me the week off because of the way werewolves need to be hunted. They’re animals. They specifically prey upon the dregs of human society, the sick and the weak. They clean out the gene pool. To kill a werewolf you first have to be its prey.”

“And how do you pull that off?” Mike asked. His eyes ran appreciably up and down Dib’s lithe frame. “I mean, you’re not exactly prey material.”

“Well, I never try the same trick twice so I guess I can tell you one. Remember the first werewolf I hunted? That time when I spent 2 weeks out recovering? A couple of days before I stuck my head in the river and took a few lungfulls of water. Gave myself pneumonia. The werewolf preyed on me because I sounded like I was on death’s doorstep, decided to put me out of my misery.”

“My god, Dib,” Mike said in awe. “All I’ve gotta do is look pretty.”

“Well it’s not exactly hard to attract a vampire,” Dib pointed out. “They always go after the pretty ones. How do you kill your vampires anyway?” He took a tentative sip of the dread coffee.

“Vampires are hedonists. They don’t notice they’re bein’ staked if they’re bein’ impaled anyway.”

Coffee sprayed all over the table. Dib sputtered and coughed. “I have no problem inhaling river water ‘cause I know what industrial wastes are in it,” he croaked. “Don’t make me inhale this poison.” He caught his breath. “Perv.”

“You know it,” Mike leered. “So, you ever lay a werewolf?”

Dib leaned forward conspiringly. “Are you kidding?” he whispered. “Do I look dumb? Werewolves tend to bite during sex.”

“And you’d rather keep your humanity. I see.”

“I never said that.”

-----

Dib sat in Bill’s office, vaguely listening for the end to Bill’s propagandist ramblings about controlling the paranormal. After 15 minutes of not saying anything important he slowed down to begin detailing Dib’s next assignment.

“Ok, Dib, we’ve got another werewolf,” Bill said, pulling down a chart showing a small town not far from the city. Two red spots marred the black and white map. “So far it’s attacked two, a horse and a cow. I need you to go out there, find this werewolf, and destroy it.”

“Sir, I request a transfer.”

Bill opened his mouth to explain more but nothing came out. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he found his voice. He turned around to glare Dib in the eye. “What?” he demanded.

Dib glared right back. Something wolfish started to blossom within him. “I request a transfer out of hunting werewolves,” he repeated.

“I can’t transfer you, Dib,” Bill growled, getting angry. “You’re the best werewolf hunter we have. Hell, you’re the only werewolf hunter we have. You’ve never failed a mission, it’s like you can think the way they do.”

Dib bared his teeth slightly. The wolf felt the challenge and accepted. “I will not hunt any more werewolves,” he growled right back. “They do not need to be hunted.”

“These monsters are killing innocent children,” Bill snarled. “They are brutally murdering and eating human beings. They must be destroyed.”

“These werewolves are like any other animal,” Dib said, snarling right back. “They are weeding the sick and the weak out of their prey herds. It’s called natural selection and over time improves the gene pool.”

“They are monsters and must be destroyed. They are a threat to our society. Any of the children eaten alive by these monsters could have grown up to be doctors, leaders, even people like your father.”

“Those children would never have grown up,” Dib pointed out, growling. “If you actually looked at the autopsy reports you’d know. The children killed were dying anyway, dying of incurable cancers, of congestive heart failure, of genetic disorders. And even if they had grown up, those genes would be passed on to their offspring, weakening the gene pool and eventually the human race. Each of those killings was a mercy killing and you know it.”

“How dare you question me,” Bill demanded, furious.

Dib bared his teeth fully. The wolf in him howled. “How dare you question the inevitable,” he murmured.

“What’s gotten into you, Dib?” Bill asked. “When I said you can think the way they do I didn’t mean all the time.”

“Let’s just say I got a little dose of reality.”

“How dare you talk to me about reality?!” Bill demanded with a shriek.

Dib snarled.

Bill pulled back, sitting himself in his chair so he’d be able to reach the pistol in his desk drawer if he needed to. “What’s happened to you?” he asked.

Dib sat down as well, the wolf feeling smug at the victory. “I came to my senses, did some research,” he said. “Lycanthropy is a disease, Bill, a virus. I’ve been killing people because they’ve got a disease. Even those who kill other animals. I’m not going to kill someone just because they’re sick.”

“Yes, you will.”

“You don’t have the authority,” Dib challenged.

“I have the authority. I could control your entire life if I wanted to.”

“No you don’t. I’m too useful for you to ostracize me like that. Talk to me when you come to your senses,” Dib said, getting up. He walked out the door. He knew that if he had a tail right then, it would be wagging with pride.

-----

Mike sat lounging in the lunchroom. He looked up as Dib sauntered in. “So what was all the racket?” he asked.

“I told him I refused to hunt werewolves anymore,” Dib said, sitting down.

“This is new,” Mike realized with interest. “What would cause our best, our only werewolf hunter to give up the hunt?”

“They’re not monsters,” Dib said. “I guess I know too much.”

“What did you do, befriend a werewolf?” Mike asked.

“Nah. It’s just…” Dib trailed off as the déjà vu hit. “Tell me, Mike, do you know anything about werewolves?”

“A little bit.”

“Do you know any cures for the lycanthropy?”

“A silver bullet through the heart, that’s about it.”

The déjà vu grew stronger. Dib’s eyes narrowed. “Anything that doesn’t kill the werewolf?” he asked.

Mike turned away.

Bill stormed into the room. “Dib, this full moon I want you here,” he ordered.

“What for?” Dib asked. “You finally transferring me?”

“For observation,” Bill growled ominously. He turned and left.

The entire lunchroom fell silent and stared at Dib. He looked around at them, at their fearful faces. Those closest to him backed away. Mike’s eyes were darkly lit.

“What?” Dib demanded. He moved toward a table and watched as the occupants quickly got up and stood near the wall, eyeing him like deer eye a wolf. He glared at all of them and left without a word.

The lunchroom erupted in whispers the moment Dib left. “Do you think he’s been bitten?” “He did demand a transfer.” “They say he slept for 36 hours after the fight. That’s what happens when you’ve been bitten.” “When he was in there with Bill I heard a snarl.” “He’s been bitten.” “Nobody gets put under observation if they haven’t been bitten.” “Dib’s a werewolf, he has to be.” “He doesn’t look like a werewolf.” “He’s a werewolf alright.”

Through it all, Mike sat there, the only one silent. No one noticed when he left after a few moments.

Mike found Dib outside his office, leaning against the door. Mike leaned against it as well. “So, were you bitten?” he asked.

“Does it really matter?” Dib asked. “The others are going to start the attempts on my life long before the full moon.” He sighed. “Thanks for the help by the way.”

“What help?” Mike asked.

“Agent M.”

“So you know about that.”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Dib said with a shrug.

“So I guess you were bitten. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been so desperate for cures.”

“So you know about that,” Dib mumbled.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Mike said, grinning. “So did you ever find a cure?”

“Apparently the woman I always considered my second mother after Mom died was a werewolf. My dad and I had a long talk about the nature of lycanthropy.”

“So no cure?”

“Nope, no cure. I get to live with it like Aunt Luna did.”

“Past tense? Where is she now?” Mike asked.

“Aunt Luna’s dead,” Dib admitted. “A werewolf hunter like myself killed her because she had gotten to some farm animals. Like the werewolf Bill tried to assign me. He wanted me to kill a werewolf because it ate a cow and a horse. He wanted me to go kill someone’s Aunt Luna.” He paused. “I hate humanity.”

“Talk like that and the attempts will start long before the moon.”

“I know, but the entire human mentality,” Dib said with a sigh. “They’re prey and they don’t even know it. They’re idiots, all of them.”

“So what are you going to do for the full moon?” Mike asked, changing the subject. “You can’t be observed or they’ll kill you. You can’t skip it or they’ll hunt you down and kill you. Heck, they’re liable to kill you anyway. No matter what you’re dead.”

“I’ll think of something. I don’t know what, but it’ll be something.”

-----

That night, Dib lay sprawled on the couch, taking up as much room as possible. Gaz sauntered in. “So, how was work?” she asked, not really caring for an answer.

“It sucked,” Dib grumbled. “It fucking sucked.”

Gaz continued into the kitchen. “Really?” she said. “That’s too bad.”

“I’m scheduled to be executed next full moon,” Dib continued, ignoring her sarcasm, “but my colleagues are likely to carry it out before then.”

This brought Gaz back into the living room. “Executed? What for?” she asked.

“What the hell do you think?” Dib demanded. He fell back into his slump and sobbed once. “I hate this.”

Gaz stood by the couch, amazed at how such a skinny figure could commandeer so much couch area. “What did you do?” she demanded.

“I’d been assigned to kill a werewolf just because it ate a horse and a cow. I refused. I’ve been put under observation but someone’s gonna kill me before then, I know it.”

Gaz snorted. “That’s subtle,” she said.

“I’m not in the mood, Gaz. I won’t even live to my first transformation. I’ll never know what it’s like.”

“You could give up, I suppose. Or you could find some of your Eyeball friends and get them to help you. Even if you do die it’d be an interesting battle to watch.”

“Whatever.”

“When Zim tried to take over the Earth did you give up?” Gaz demanded. “When Dad tried to turn you into a normal human being did you give up? When you tried to convince Dad that Mars had aliens on it did you give up? I admit you don’t always fight the right battles but if you give up on this one I will destroy you. Your paranormal friends won’t be able to kill you, I’ll do it first.” Gaz went back upstairs, no longer thinking of food.

Dib sprawled there, staring at the blank TV screen. I proved my superiority over that Bill human. I saw how the prey herd in the lunchroom reacted to a predator in their midst. That’s all they are, prey, food, sport to be hunted and controlled. I’m not going to be bested by a herd of prey am I? No, I’m not.

Let them try.

-----

Days later Dib found himself in the organization’s gym. He was bench-pressing his usual 200 pounds but it wasn’t enough. With a growl he got up and added more weight. It still wasn’t enough. At 550 pounds he finally found some form of difficulty. He hummed happily as he found something actually taxing on his body. Suddenly he stopped and replaced the bar. He sat up and looked a human in the eye.

He didn’t know this human’s name. He had only seen this human a few times in his life. But for some reason the human stood there, shaking, holding a pistol trained on him. “D-don’t move,” the human stuttered. “I-I mean it.”

Dib stood up and sauntered forward. “What are you going to do, shoot me?” he asked. “You don’t even know who I am and you’re gonna shoot me? Really.”

“S-stop where y-you are, you w-werewolf.”

“Go ahead,” Dib said, smiling. “Shoot me. Go ahead and try.” He crouched to pounce.

The gunman closed his eyes and fired.

Dib dodged as the shot was fired. It didn’t hurt that the human was shaking too much to hold any aim. The bullet flew harmlessly by him, lodging in the wall behind. “Everybody GET DOWN!” he shouted.

The others in the gym dropped to the floor at Dib’s command, watching the gunman, really just a kid, shakily point a gun toward the werewolf. The werewolf was respected and powerful in the organization. The gunman was human. Yet they didn’t know whom they wanted to win.

“What makes you think you can kill me?” Dib asked, crouched low. “Think you can hunt the hunter?”

Dib pounced again as the gunman fired twice.

“I don’t think you can win,” Dib taunted. The gunman turned around to see Dib behind him, leaning nonchalantly against a wall. He fired once.

“It takes a special skill to hunt a werewolf,” Dib purred. “You’re too slow. You’re thinking too much like a human.” Dib sat perched on top of the chin-up bars. The gunman fired.

“Tell me,” Dib asked, “why are you trying to kill me?” The gunman turned around to see Dib standing right next to him. He screamed and tried to run.

Dib bounded forward and grabbed the gunman. “I never got your name,” he said. “Tell me your name.”

The gunman shook in fear. “J-Jones,” he stammered.

Dib wrapped an arm around Jones and pulled the revolver out of the boy’s hand. “Bill’s gonna be pissed when he finds out you’ve been wasting his silver bullets on me,” he said. “Any reason why you thought to invoke his wrath?”

Jones shook so badly he vibrated in terror. “Y-you’re a werewolf,” he whimpered. “I h-heard the others talking a-about it. I knew s-someone who was killed by a w-werewolf.”

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. You do realize that I’m not the one who killed your friend, right? And that killing me isn’t going to bring your friend back?”

Jones nodded.

“Then why do it? It’s like killing all the deer because one killed your friend. You wouldn’t kill all the deer in the world just because one killed someone you knew, would you?”

“I l-like deer,” Jones said.

“I do too, Jones. They’re cute. Smart, too.”

Jones smiled, the shaking slowing down. “You’re n-not a monster, are you?” he asked.

“I’m not a monster. No, Jones, the monster is in here,” he said, pressing a finger against Jones’ forehead. “All the humans who fear the creatures of the night, they’re seeing their own monsters, projected onto what they fear. It’s the perfect excuse to kill us all.”

“S-so I shouldn’t be afraid?”

“No, you should be afraid. Be afraid of the werewolves you don’t know, but don’t think of them as monsters. We’re just like wolves. Bigger, stronger, faster, and we spend most of our time masquerading as humans, but still wolves. You don’t fear the wolves you know, but you do respect them.” He handed Jones back the pistol. “And that means no more shooting silver bullets at me for no reason, ok?”

Jones nodded and smiled. He turned around and skipped out of the gym.

Dib looked around at the humans still half-lying on the floor, staring blatantly at him. “What?” he demanded.

-----

Bill didn’t even look up as Dib plopped himself down in the chair opposite him. The lunchroom falling silent was enough of a clue. “So it’s true,” he said.

“What did I do now?” Dib asked.

Bill looked up from his newspaper. “You’re a werewolf,” he said.

Dib stirred his cup of sludge, a step up from turpentine. “Oh that,” he said.

“Yes, that.”

“It doesn’t seem that big of a deal, really.”

Bill slammed the paper on the cheap diner table. “Dammit, Dib, you’re a fucking monster!” he shouted. “Of course that’s a big deal!”

“Tell me, Bill, what was the last monstrous thing I did?”

“I don’t have to prove my point to you,” Bill sputtered, “you’re a werewolf!”

“I see. So, because I’m no longer a human I’m a monster. Like the monster you wanted me to kill this month because it’s eaten a cow.”

“And a horse, but that’s not the point!”

“And a horse. So I haven’t even eaten a poor defenseless horse, yet I’m a monster. How very Inquisition of you.”

Bill stood up and brandished a finger. “How dare you mock me!” he shrieked.

“I never knew pointing out the obvious counted as mocking,” he said, standing up as well. “You’ve been hunting monsters all your life, Bill, never able to kill the real monster. So you keep looking. Maybe one day you’ll find the monster. Maybe one day you’ll stare long enough into a mirror to realize the monster you’ve been trying to kill all your life is yourself.” He walked off.

“You’re still going to report to observation!”

“Oh yes,” Dib said, pausing at the door. “Observation, also known as the perfect excuse to get me into a little cage so when you shoot at me you won’t be able to miss. Of course I’ll be reporting to the execution for crimes I never committed. Of course I deserve to be murdered for no reason other than I’m no longer human. Forget the respect I’ve earned here, it’s all disappeared because of what I’ve become.” He turned around, a sad look in his eyes. “You just keep hunting your monsters, Bill. I’m sure someday you’ll actually find something heinous enough to deserve death.” He left.

Bill sat down and picked up his paper. He looked around at the silent room to see everyone staring at him. “What?” he demanded.

End Chapter 2