Just one more time, for the sake of sanity. Tell me why; explain the gravity, that drove you to this, that brought you to this place, that pushed you down into the soil's embrace. Give me the chance I was denied to sit and talk with you for one last time.

He remembered being a normal smeet. Normal, of course, in the relative sense of the word. There is no such thing as true "normal," not even a society as highly ritualized and conformed as Irken society.

He remembered playing with his siblings when the squeaky yellow ball they'd been playing with bounced out onto the cold, gray stone sidewalk. His siblings had laughed and pushed him, the youngest smeet and lovely baby of the family, towards the ball. "Go get it, stupid," the eldest boy taunted.

He remembered giving a cautious look to his mother, who simply smiled and nodded, as he toddled off on short legs, bare feet burned by the heat radiating from the sidewalks.

His arms closed around the sun-warmed plastic ball just in time to look up and see black gloved arms descending on his tiny form. He squealed out in terror and tried to run, but a shock passed through his back. He fell to the hot pavement, his limbs no longer under his own control. Their arms reached around him, snatching him up. Then, with the dull roar of afterburners firing, they were gone into the crowded city evening.

He never even got a chance to cry out to his mother, no one last chance to say her name.

He would never see her again.

Did I disappoint you? Did I let you down? Did I stand on the shore and watch you as you drowned? Can you forgive me? I never knew the pain you carried deep inside of you. I can't forget having to see the words that knocked the wind right out of me. It's not enough. I've come undone. Trying to find sense, where there is none.

Memories, of course, were a deadly thing. Like small ghosts they slipped through his mind, always at the ends of his claw tips. Were the things he remembered real, or merely dreams of what might have been? He couldn't remember any more.

Sixteen years inside a glass prison will do that to you.

Did I disappoint you? Did I let you down? Did I stand on the shore and watch you as you drowned? Can you forgive me? I never knew the pain you carried deep inside of you. Just give me peace, you owe me that, to help ward off the fears I must combat.

A careless lab janitor, working late at night, accidentally backed into a thick, wooden-handled mop sitting upright in a metal bucket. It fell backwards, striking blue-green glass with a heavy thud. The janitor winced, running over to check the damage. Gods, he couldn't afford to lose another job! He had a wife and four smeets to feed!

Did I disappoint you? Did I let you down? Did I stand on the shore and watch you as you drowned? Can you forgive me? I never knew the pain you carried deep inside of you.

Good, the damage didn't look bad. Not bad at all, the janitor thought. Just a little crack, he mused to himself, and if they do notice it'll take too long for them to pin anything on me. He let out a deep sigh of relief and wiped his brow before returning to his work, content that he wouldn't get into trouble.

That was the sad thing about Irkens. They'd do whatever the heck they wanted as long as they thought they wouldn't get in trouble. Morality was a lost cause with them.

Perhaps if they'd had a little more of it, the whole crisis could have been averted.

And so I ask, for one more chance, to understand this senseless circumstance. Help me to see, this through your eyes, the reasons I've been trying to surmise. Though you are gone, I am still your son. While your pain is over, mine has just begun.

Dark, black gunk smelling faintly of baby oil and rubber began to leak out of the single sliver of damage in the glass, pushing hard on the glass. Small webbed cracks began to appear around the edges as the goo pushed seemingly harder and harder against the broken glass, steadily increasing the pressure. Finally, with a loud crack that filled the empty lab like the sound of a bat against a solid baseball, the glass gave way.

The janitor, hearing the sound, cursed in broken Irken and rushed back into the main lab. He let out a squeal of surprise when his boot hit the floor and began sizzling. Jumping back, he thudded against a container filled with blood and oil. "Acid?" he muttered, watching as water covered in a thin film of black oil sloshed across the floor. "Great, just what I need, an acid spill! I'm losing my job for this one for sure!" he whined, throwing his hat down into the sloppy mess.

The water sloshed gently, sounding like someone was walking through it. "Who's there?" the janitor called, peering into the darkness. The only light came from the room he was standing in, the light spilling across the wet concrete floor. The light switch for the other room was in the center of the lake of acid, which the janitor had no intent of crossing. "Hey, don't come in here! There's acid all over the floor."

The walking didn't stop, didn't change pace, didn't do anything but grow slowly and steadily nearer. The janitor peered into the darkness, hands nervously clenching the pole of his mop like a weapon.

From across the darkened floor appeared a young, lanky Irken male. His eyes were a deep red, so dark they could almost have been black. He was wearing the standard uniform, but it was covered in layers of a gelatin like black substance. It hung off him and dripped from his body like gruesome ribbons of flayed skin, swaying slightly as he walked.

Most noticeably, the acid didn't seem to be touching him. No, more than that… he seemed to be leaking the very acid that was spilling in dubious amounts out across the floor.

"What are you, man?" the terrified janitor asked, clinging to his mop for dear life. "You shouldn't be in here, this is a closed lab. I could lose my job…"

The other Irken's eyes lit up as though a flame had been started inside them, fairly glowing in the darkness. The janitor didn't appreciate the rich, crimson color of the small headlights shining down on him. In fact, the only thing the janitor could match them with were the glow sticks dancers at clubs were fond of waving around. With a hiss sounding like nothing any Irken should be able to make, the Irken's tongue lolled out of his mouth and he exposed sharp, dangerous looking fangs.

The janitor dropped his mop and turned heel, preparing to bolt. He made it less than a foot before a long tendril shot out of the center of the other Irken's chest, stabbing him straight through. It went into his back and came back out just below the ribs, blowing a large section of disgusting, wriggling intestines across the floor. They were so warm in the coolness of the lab that small fingers of white vapor rose up from them.

Torn sections of flesh surrounded the metal object. The janitor, still alive and gasping, fell to his knees. He sobbed hysterically in pain, despite the adrenaline rushing through his rapidly emptying veins. He gripped at the tentacle extending out of his midsection, blood and bits of his own fluids dripping down and mixing with the piss that stained his pants. The strange object jabbing out of his body seemed to be made of cold, hard metal he noticed as he clawed at it, trying to free himself like a fish on a barbed hook.


The other Irken retracted the tentacle, janitor attached, back to his chest. Both janitor and tentacle disappeared back into the strange Irken's chest, passing right through clothes and bone like they weren't even there. There was a dull scream and shudder passed through the strange Irken's body like it were made of fluid instead of anything solid, and then silence reclaimed the lab.

Hot sensations washed over the janitor's body. Acid, acid, acid, his mind cried. He was being burned all over with acid… no, worse. He was being digested. He tried to flail his arms or kick his legs, but there wasn't enough muscle or never left to make them work properly. Shining white bones gleamed out of his torn fingertips at him as he felt his eyes slowly run down his face.

After a few moments, the gangly male Irken's eyes lost their light, fading away like a glow in the dark toy left too long without exposure to a light source. He burped once and his body ejected the janitor's clothes and wristwatch, still in perfect condition other than a slight smell like baby oil left in their creases.

Satisfied, the stranger walked into the darkness and out of the lab.

One moment of carelessness had just released … something. Something the likes of which most Irkens hadn't even dreamed of in their thickest nightmares.

And something was the only word appropriate for what it was.

-Assemblage 23- Disappoint

***

This particular monster, who shall be introduced to you by name in later chapters, was created in a role play with Dib's Lyn. She gets mentioned cuz I probably wouldn't have thought of him otherwise. ^_^