Rating: M

This is an ongoing story of Gaz and Dib's adventures as detectives. There will be many guest appearances so I guess it crosses over with a lot of dark, mildly depressing but funny as hell and paretic comics/ cartoons such as JTHM and The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy.

Warnings: It may have yaoi, yuri, or whatever I feel like and I am horribly descriptive with gory scenes and such. Profanity is a given, though it will not be excessive. This story is rated M for a fucking reason. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: I don't own any cartoon characters, products of the real world, nor musical references that I might mention. I doubt anyone would try to sue me, seeing as you don't have enough info on me to and I don't give a shit, so just don't do it.

All flames will be printed, framed, and hung up on my wall of shit to set on fire for my own enjoyment. All productive critique is welcomed and appreciated though.

Now that that is over, here we go.

"Blood is a river. Flowing darkly admist the tangled roots of the tall and shining city... Ignorance is the root of fear... Silence is a killer." – News From the Front (Bad Religion)

Chapter 1

Dib, dropping his titanium suitcase onto the floor, shuddered at the sight before him. Well really the two sights before him. The first was the rather obvious amount of blood that pooled the ground, walls, and merchandise. The corpses that were now oozing out their last remaining drops of crimson liquid from tattered bodies were scattered unceremoniously along the floor.

Six in total, Dib could not help but feel a lump settle in his stomach after seeing the bodies' limbs decorating the gas station in the opened freezer, next to some soap products, in the snacks stands, and other places. He would never eat ice cream ever again.

Random organs hung down from the ceiling lights looking like bloody piñatas in some sick twisted version of a five-year-old's birthday party. The sound of inexperienced cops retching behind him faintly registered in his mind but he was too disturbed by his sister's reaction to the gory sight before her to notice.

Gaz's face was the epitome of indifference, her whole demeanor apathetic as always. Goosebumps ghosted Dib's skin. How could she be like this all the time? He could not tell if the bloody scene before him was more unsettling than his sister's manner or not.

He closed his eyes, blocking out the scene for a moment to think back. It had been like this as far as he could remember. It had even got worse ever since they graduated from college, both of them in the field of law. He couldn't remember one time his sister had ever shown any type of affection to him. Well, she had stuck with him throughout life though, he supposed. All through time she was by his side, not really in a supportive way, but still, she had been a huge influence on his life. A constant ominous pressure that he probably could not nor cannot live without.

See after going through the twelve years at Skool, they went to college together, and then were easily recruited into the FBI detective department seeing as Gaz was fluent in the French language and Dib Spanish, Gaz's terrifying aura was quite useful in so many wrong ways, while Dib's persistence, which was almost to a degree of fanatical, was very useful combined with Gaz's unset attitude. Dib's big head had finally been deemed semi-normal after he stopped claiming Zim was an alien. He was intelligent and calculatingly efficient on cases and matched with Gaz's scarier-than-hell personality, brutal but accurate reflexive actions, and supernatural intuition, they made an unconquerable team against the crime scenes of New York City.

Dib snapped out of his thoughts as the sound of rubber slapping against skin broke the eerie silence of the gas station slash slaughterhouse. Gaz had pulled on a pair of latex gloves and was now sorting through the disembodied limbs, trying to identify the bloody bodies. She turned one of the corpses onto its back and Dib couldn't hold it in any longer as its intestines uncoiled from the inside of the torso onto the tiled floor with a loud 'slurp' next to what looked like it had once been cake under the layers of bloody icing.

After composing himself again, Dib turned to help his sister with the difficult task of "putting faces" on the "faceless." Gaz had pulled out a small camera and had begun taking pictures of the corpses from all angles. Even without the skin, someone's identity could be found by the cranial and dental structures in the FBI archives (1).

"So, do you have any idea who could have done this?" Dib pulled on his own pair of gloves before kneeling next to another corpse. He searched for any identification but sighed when he found none.

"No," Gaz answered curtly before moving on to another corpse.

"Is there surveillance anywhere in here? I don't see any cameras," Dib said after taking a thorough look around the ceiling of the room.

"No." The purple-haired detective continued to snap away pictures.

"The owner was too cheap a bastard to set one up?" Dib asked with a small smile, trying to lighten up the mood a bit.

It failed miserably and didn't even elicit a short one worded answer to the poor boy. After Gaz took a few more pictures of different corpses, she shoved the camera into his hands.

"Finish taking the identification pictures." Dib sighed as he watched the back of his violet-haired sister disappear into the store. To any normal person it would seem like she was doing absolutely nothing but slacking off, but Dib knew she was searching for clues. He didn't know how but Gaz seemed to find irregularities in the most regular things.

It wasn't long after Dib continued to photograph the victims that Gaz signaled Dib over with a brusque grunt.

"You've found something?" Dib asked as he hustled over to where Gaz was standing at the back of the gas station.

"What do you make of this?" Gaz asked monotoniously while pointing at a colorful but cheap looking machine on the counter.

Dib stared at the slushy machine. It looked ordinary enough: its "cheerful" purple plastic covering with the big bold yellow letters spelling out, "Brain Freezy" and black dispenser dripping some of the sweet artificially flavored ice onto the floor. "It's a slushy machine for Brain Freezys. What's so important about that?"

"Look closer, at the on and the dispensing button," Gaz said emotionlessly while unconsciously crossing her arms, becoming impatient.

Dib stepped closer and his eyes widened. There was a bloody fingerprint on the dispensing button. Hastily, he searched for the on button and found it on the side of the machine, this one with a whole bloody outline of a hand, like the machine had been hit while the person was turning it on. Dib was confused. "What does it mean?"

Gaz shrugged nonchalantly, "the suspect wanted a Brain Freezy after his or her little activities."

Dib's mind spun, he glanced around the room, his stomach tightening. "You're telling me that this killer, wanted to drink a slushy after brutally mutilating six people?"

"Yes," Gaz said blankly.

Dib sighed deeply, 'Wow, Gaz and he had dealt with a lot of things sick, deranged, and downright creepy many a times before but just wow, this took the cake. Ugh, cake...' Dib fought the urge to gag again.

Gaz began to walk towards the exit of the building, pausing at the door but not turning around. "Get a picture and print of the fingerprint and hand. I want them recorded and matched. I expect a file on the suspect within the hour, Dib." And with that the purple-haired detective walked out of the door, the little chime at the top dinging her departure.

Dib sighed again as he pulled out the camera and took several pictures of both the fingerprint and the handprint. After he was satisfied with his pictures he pulled out a small tube of powder. Lightly blowing some of the white powder onto the prints, he pulled out a role of tape and ripped off two pieces. After firmly sticking tape onto the prints he peeled them off slowly and stuck each one onto separate sheets of paper. Crude but effective.

And with that, Dib neatly shoved the camera, prints, and powder into his suitcase. Tightly shutting his suitcase closed, Dib walked out of the gas station. He peeled off his gloves while signaling towards the police chief with a curt nod that the scene was now free for the lower level agents to enter and search incase they had missed anything. But that had never happened with Gaz's sharp eyes.

Dib, noticing that his sister's motorcycle was no where to be seen, remembered that he had only an hour to finish the file and quickened his pace towards his car.

'Damn Gaz! One hour is barely enough time to make it back to headquarters, match the fingerprints in the database, and make up a file that Gaz would not immediately throw into her piranha filled fish tank.'

Dib slammed on the acceleration pedal as soon as he jammed in his keys and pulled the car onto one of the filthy highways of N.Y.C. He reached HQ under ten minutes and briskly made his way towards his office. Upon entering his small but comfortable office he gently placed his suitcase onto the smooth surface of his mahogany desk. Pulling out the papers with the prints he gently placed them onto his scanner and loaded them onto his desktop in a matter of seconds.

Quickly Dib loaded the prints onto the identification program. After a few seconds his computer emitted a small beep.

'Huh? What do you mean there are no exact matches?' Dib frowned and typed in the command for the program to pull up all similar matches. A couple hundred matches appeared on his screen and Dib groaned.

This was going to be a very long hour.

To be continued...

(1) – I do not own the FBI nor do I know their ways of identifying bodies. I don't know a lot about the FBI so any references to the FBI and their procedures I have is probably utterly useless in real life and are only useful in my story.

So, what do you people think of my first post on fanfiction? Feedback is welcomed and appreciated immensely so please take two minutes of your life and review my story. I will update faster if I feel like people actually are reading the things my mind comes up with.

This is I write Sins not Tragedies saying review now and tune in later.