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Current mood:	sick
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Entry tags:	fanfic, lycanthropy

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

-----

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 walked into the lunchroom to see everyone staring at him. “What?” he demanded.

“H-how’s Dib?” Jones asked shakily.

“I have no idea,” Bill said.

Someone else spoke up. “I heard Dib killed Mike last night.”

“He did,” Bill said. “However, he killed Mike while he was still human and with very good reason. Dib invoked the right of Revenge. Not only that, but Mike tried to kill me.”

Whispers broke out in the room. They stopped again when the door opened and Dib stumbled in. Eyes closed, Dib plopped down at the nearest booth and started to snore.

Bill strode over and poked him. “You’re late. Wake up.”

Dib swatted toward the annoyance. “’m sleeping,” he mumbled.

Bill slapped him. “Wake up, dammit!”

Dib sat up with a shriek. “Fine, I’m up! What?”

“We might as well do this here, they’re all gonna find out anyway,” Bill said, taking a seat at Dib’s table. “How was it?”

“How was what?” Dib asked, eyelids drooping.

“Last night, you idiot!”

“Exhausting,” Dib said with a glare through on eye. “Transformation hurt like fucking hell. Fur never falls out.” He reached around to scratch his back. “I look like a yeti.”

“Fine. What did you eat last night?”

Dib belched, making a face at the taste. “Are you sure you wanna know?” he warned.

“What did you eat last night?!” Bill demanded.

“Ok, ok, I’ll tell you. Last night I met this dog Maynard and he showed me around the best trashcans in the suburbs. I ate the edible contents of 4 residential garbage cans and the bones set out for us by some butcher. This butcher was a neat guy, really likes dogs. He keeps all his leftover beef bones and feeds ‘em to the neighborhood dogs. Bet it saves him on the garbage bill.”

“Anything else?” Bill asked, disgusted.

“I stole a ham out of my Dad’s fridge and we ate that while watching a bad horror flick. ‘Attack of the Mutant Spleen’ was on last night.”

“What the hell?”

“Maynard’s a house dog,” Dib explained. “We invaded my dad’s house and watched the late night horror movie.”

Someone at another table giggled. “The spleeeen…”

Dib followed the voice with his eyes. “The spleeeen…” They both burst out laughing.

“Fine,” Bill groaned. “You’re safe. The only things you seem to hunt are bad movies and garbage cans.”

“I think I’m regretting the garbage cans,” Dib said, belching. “They only tasted good the first time around.”

“Fine. Dib, I’ve got a mission for you.”

“I am not werewolf hunting.”

“Yes, you are. Remember last month’s case? I want you to follow up on it and find the werewolf. Talk to it or something. Find out why it’s hunting livestock.”

“You mean you want me to talk this guy out of hunting?” Dib asked, slightly incredulous. “I’m a werewolf negotiator? What should I do, teach him how to hunt garbage cans? Sir, garbage isn’t known for putting up much of a fight.”

“I don’t care what you tell it just talk to it.” Bill stood up and walked out.

Dib watched him leave, eyes drooping again. He let his head loll back and began to snore again.

-----

A black Ford Mustang pulled up outside of Ray Grundy’s farm. A tall dark figure wearing a black leather trench coat and thick glasses stepped out, looking toward the farmhouse. He checked his notes. “Yep, this is the place.” He walked up the path to the farmhouse.

Martha Grundy was washing the morning dishes when she heard a knock on the door. A tall man dressed in black stood there. He flashed a badge, identifying him as local animal control, Division 6. “Ma’am, my name is Smith,” he said. “I was contacted last month about wolf attacks on livestock here. May I speak to your husband?”

“He’s in the pasture,” Martha said, pointing out back, “feeding the cattle.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

He found Ray in the pasture tossing bales of hay out to the cattle. “Mr. Grundy, I’m Agent Smith with Animal Control,” Dib said. “We’ve had complaints of wolf attacks from your neighbors, concerning your livestock. Might I have a word with you?”

Ray threw the bale he was holding and wiped his forehead. “Whatever they told you there aren’t any wolves out here,” he said. “This is civilized land, what did you say your name was?”

Dib held out his badge. “Smith,” he said. “Agent Smith.”

Ray took a look at the badge then again at Dib. “Not quite dressed for the likes of animal control, are you Mr. Smith?” he asked.

“Mr. Grundy, I was told a horse and a cow, both quarantined, were killed by wolves and that your neighbors the called in the complaint. It is my job to make sure these wolves aren’t a threat to anyone else.”

“Mr. Smith, there is no threat,” Ray said with a shake of his head. “If there were a pack of wolves around here there’d be more attacks. Not just that, eventually they’d be heard howlin’ at night.”

“Oh, but they have been heard. Every full moon we’ve been getting complaints of howling. These complaints imply a lone wolf, who isn’t a significant danger to livestock, but animals quarantined the way yours were would be in significant danger. Even if they were set to be euthanised the very next day.”

“There are no wolves out here, not even one,” Ray challenged.

“I know,” Dib growled, answering the challenge. “The two animals were killed in the most humane way a predator could manage. The wolf is only heard during the full moon. This isn’t the pattern of a wolf, but of a werewolf.”

Ray puffed up in anger. “Are you accusing me?!”

“I don’t have to. I know.”

Ray tore off his gloves. “Why you…” he snarled, leaping at Dib.

Dib crouched low and sprung, avoiding the attack. He swiped at Ray, slashing him across the back with puny human hands.

Ray snarled and grabbed Dib around the neck. He threw himself onto Dib, throwing them both to the ground. “Only human,” he sneered.

Dib drew his legs up and kicked, throwing Ray onto the ground. Dib sprang up onto all fours. He howled and charged.

Ray scrambled to his feet. He sprang out of the way of Dib’s charge, watching as Dib smacked into the dirt. He rolled over onto his back and waited.

Dib readied another attack but stopped at Ray’s surrender. He sat down next to Ray. “You figured out I’m not with Animal Control, right?” he asked.

“Werewolves don’t run with animal control,” Ray said. “How did you figure me out?”

“That was a very humane thing you did for that horse. Something only a friend would do, probably the owner.”

“Thank you. When Chestnut broke his leg that evening and the vet said he wouldn’t be able to come until the morning I knew I had to do something. He was in so much pain.”

“I understand,” Dib said. “I’m glad you didn’t wait until morning.”

“Chestnut was such a good horse,” Ray whispered, “so patient with the children.”

Dib stayed silent for a few minutes and allowed Ray to collect his thoughts. “So,” he said, trying to get back to business, “are you the only one out here?”

Ray nodded sadly. “I am. Not even my wife, I told her I won’t do that to her.”

“I can respect that.”

“Come inside,” Ray offered, getting up. “We can talk better with some lemonade.”

“Thank you,” Dib said, accepting.

-----

Dib sat in the Grundy’s kitchen sipping homemade lemonade. “So, Ray, how long have you been a werewolf?” he asked.

Ray sipped his own glass. “About as long as I can remember,” he said. “I was real young at the time. You?”

“Not very long. The organization I work for only found out about my condition a month ago.”

Ray chuckled. “It’s not just a condition, it’s a lifestyle. Everything changes once you’ve been bitten. Unfortunately I didn’t realize that until after going to school.”

Dib snorted into his lemonade. “You were the weird little kid? Join the club. I’ve been in a trench coat since I was 3, always chasing aliens or something.”

“Sounds like a lonely life.”

“I never realized how lonely until I was bitten,” Dib said with a shrug. “I met a dog who knows the streets pretty well and we ran together. He’s the first person I’ve ever met who didn’t write me off as a freak.”

“Well, Agent Smith, animals are like that. They’re accepting. I’m happy for you that you found someone to run with. Though if you’re ever out here I’d be happy to have you run with me.”

Dib smiled.

-----

Bill sat at his desk, feet propped up. “What did you learn?” he asked.

“Well, Sir, the animals were killed by their owner,” Dib reported. “They had been injured such that the most humane thing to do was euthanasia. However in both cases the vet was unable to carry this out until the following morning, so the owner took matters into his own hands.”

“So what is the threat?”

“There is no danger to livestock or the community,” Dib said carefully.

“A tame werewolf?”

“He can be quite brutal with the local deer but there is no danger to the town.”

Bill nodded. “Ok then,” he allowed. “Dib, I have another assignment for you.”

“What is it this time?” Dib asked with a sigh.

Bill pulled out a map. It was covered in little red dots. “It is believed that there is a werewolf pack in the city,” he stated. “These are their footsteps. As you can see by the dates they are headed out to your neighborhood. I want you to infiltrate their pack, become one of them. You will report to me any and all information you can get hold of concerning their movements, next victims, and who they are.”

“I am not going back into killing without reason,” Dib said firmly.

“Nobody asked you to. This is purely a spy mission. I even give you permission to take part in their hunts, to kill humans if necessary. The loss of a few humans is small to the idea of disbanding this pack.”

Dib paused for several long seconds. “I’ll think about it.”

“You have one week.”

-----

Dib plopped himself down on the couch. He pulled off his shirt and started scratching at the fur still covering his back and chest. He flipped on the TV to an old Mysterious Mysteries rerun.

Gaz flopped onto the couch next to him. “So do I have to destroy you?” she demanded.

“Nah,” Dib said. “Bill’s got no problem with my condition. So long as I spy on the other werewolves in the city and act as a traitor to my race I’ll be fine.”

“You know, you could always find something else to do with your life,” she pointed out.

“Yeah I know. But what could I do? Not many humans out there can handle the idea of working with a werewolf.”

“You could always ask Dad. Your degree is in biology, I’m sure he could find something for you. Heck, you could even try grad school.”

“I could,” he said then paused. “Do you remember Aunt Luna?”

“She was so much fun,” Gaz remembered. “I was so sad when she died; it was like losing Mom again.”

“I know,” Dib said then took a breath. “I found out who killed her. Michael, one of Dad’s old assistants and my best friend at work. He wanted to kill me like he killed her. He blamed her and all werewolves for the loss of his reputation.”

Gaz growled.

“Don’t even try, he’s already dead. I killed him that night before I changed. That was his blood on my sword.”

Gaz was speechless. After a few moments she found her voice. “I didn’t know you had it in you,” she said, awed. “I’m proud of you, Dib.”

Dib smile weakly. “Thanks,” he said. There was another long pause. “So what should I do about Bill?”

“I meant what I said. Find something else to do.” She stood up and walked off.

Dib watched her walk away. He stared at the TV, not really seeing it. He watched as Bill was shown, prattling on about the Chickenfoot case. He held up a tuft of fur. “Maybe I should leave,” he mused. Yes, maybe I should.

-----

Bill looked up from the file on his desk into the determined eyes of Dib. “What’s this?” he demanded.

“My resignation,” Dib said. “I will not be a traitor to my race just so you humans can feel safe at night.”

“You do realize that without the protection of this organization you’ll be hunted and destroyed like every other werewolf?”

“You’ll have to catch me first,” Dib said with a smirk. He turned around. “Oh, and you do remember that this organization must remain hidden at all costs, right?”

“Are you threatening me?” Bill snarled.

“Not at all. I’m merely pointing out that, hypothetically, if I were to gain a prominent position, and if those around me knew of my condition, I couldn’t be touched.”

“What are you saying?”

“Membrane Labs knows what I am. My father has access to all of my files. If I were to disappear, he has instructions to go public. Good day.” Dib left, leaving Bill fuming in his office.

-----

Paul Burlington looked Dib over. “I’ve read about your research into lycanthropy, Sir, but I never thought I’d be able to continue the research.”

“Dib will be heading the research, Paul, in addition to being the research subject,” Professor Membrane said.

Paul looked back at the Professor. “But, Sir, I’ve been studying your research for over a decade. I was hoping maybe I could have control.”

“Many things can go wrong with this project, including the destruction of the reputation of the one heading the research,” the Professor said. “Dib’s been a paranormal investigator for three years now. If something goes wrong there’s no harm done to him or to the Labs. If all goes well this will build his reputation, make parascience into a respectable field, and strengthen the reputation and power of the Labs.”

Dib looked at his father in an approving light. “Have you always been this conniving or have I been missing something?” he asked.

“I trust you’ll pull this off, Dib,” Professor Membrane said with a grin. He turned around and left his son to begin building his fate.

End Chapter 4

End Beauty of the Beast