Paparazzi
Chapter One
Gossip magazines were, on their best days, controversial and struggling to get the biggest 'news' before any other magazine did. It used to be the celebrities of movies, TV shows and the latest models. Who was pregnant? Who was so skinny that you could see their ribs and what lie could you make up to explain it? Who was getting married and then divorced 72 days later? The long list went on. Or at least it had back when anyone gave a flying fuck about them.
Now and days, the biggest news came in the form of politicians, high flying CEOs and scientists. Or to be frank, the Membrane empire. Rumor had it that the legendary Professor was ready to pass off the great name to his son, Dib.
Of course the young boy had always had a bit of a wild streak; running around in his younger days in search of ghosts and big foots, or out taking photos of creepy, old houses. No one had ever let him forget it. But, lately the great, almighty professor had paid a generous sum of money to make the facts disappear like smoke on a cold night.
Now the tabloids followed Dib around like a blood hound. The young prodigy was being trained, spiffed up for the public eye, the ropes all being shown to the pale, too skinny man with his father's alarming hair style and wide, gold eyes. His smile in the glossy pictures was forced and faker than the old Paris Hilton's boob job. Of course, saying so was so last century.
However, the professor hadn't paid much attention to Empire Magazine. It was a hoity-toity, slightly dull publication that tended to veer more towards the old snobbishly of singers and sports stars. Now, however they were regretting this. Every other magazine was rolling in the cash, getting the best photos.
The Empire's white walls were slightly water stained, and as the assistant editor ran down the hallway, her hair nearly fell out of its bun. She reached the door with the big, crooked name on it that read, 'Josh Harleton, BossMan.' Slowing down her frantic breathing, she knocked quickly on the door.
"Come in." A deep voice yelled, muffled. She entered silently. Before her was a long table and seated at said table was nearly every staff member. The woman flicked a strand of blonde hair from her face and bit her bottom lip.
"Sorry, I'm late. Alarm didn't go off." The BossMan waved away the excuse and motioned for her to sit down.
"Now that we're all here, we can begin." BossMan said, his throat working, Adams apple bouncing. This man's face was that natural ruddy color, his eyes set far back in his head. They looked almost beady. The kind of guy whose suit was too tight and whose hair was graying, who had a bushy mustache. The kind of guy you wouldn't want to run into in a dark alley and the kind of guy you would wonder why was running a Tabloid magazine.
"I assume you all know why you're here." A series of nods and mumbles, he cleared his throat. "If we don't do something…well, we're toast. I don't have to tell you this though. You've seen it for yourself. No one wants sports mishaps or sappy break up stories anymore. They want," A beefy fist slammed itself on the table, shaking several cups of overly sugared coffee. "Science and politicians! And the facts—and-an-"
"Sir, your blood pressure." His mousy assistant whispered, handing the older man a cup of water. BossMan blinked himself into calmness and forced himself to down the water before continuing.
"Yes, right. Well, you know. The Membrane Empire. It just so happens that I'm friends with someone who knows well…" He cleared his throat again. "Oh, just bring him in."
The little assistant nodded and scuffled over to the door to let in—the door slammed itself open and nearly took out the assistant. In the doorway stood a lean, thin tall man with a flashy suit and slicked back hair. As he walked in, he almost appeared to slide.
"You kept me waiting long enough." The male said in a haughty, thick accent. "Well, I don't mind as much. But, my client however…He's not so patient. I had to almost literally force him to sit."
"I apologize. " BossMan said, straightening his tie. "It's nice to see you again, Drewlin."
The man waved a hand as if to dismiss the words. "Yes. Exchanging pleasantries can wait. Can I bring him in now?"
BossMan nodded. It was made of uncertainty and a bit of eagerness. The rest of the employees exchanged looks but kept their mouths shut. Drewlin delicately coughed and in a flash, it was almost like a physical change, he swept a hand towards the doors. "I have the solution to your problem. You've never heard of him, or seen him but, he's there. He's taken apart entire families, brought down the strongest of men, made women weep…"
Everyone in the room sat up straighter, unsure, and confused. "Scandals are because of him. He is the definition of failure. The Destroyer of Routines. The Downfall of Secrets…The Invader of Lives…"
The door, for the third time that day, swung open. However, it wasn't out of impatience or because someone was late. It opened with a purpose. The hinges didn't dare squeak. No one dared breathe as the person stepped from the shadows and into the dimly lit meeting room.
"Zim…"
And jade lips parted to reveal predatory pink canines.
"But, can he do it?" BossMan asked his hands suddenly sweaty as he clutched at the table, his tie, his now empty cup. Drewlin didn't get a chance to open his mouth.
"Doubts?" A chuckle rolled and rolled, like smoke on the wind, like waves on an ocean; a whole symphony that played to bring the most lethal sound in the universe.
"I won't stop until that boy is mine…and he will be mine."
-
Dib Membrane posed for yet another picture. He felt like his face was going to crack. But, he knew that this was important. Must have good coverage. Must be good, son. The Empire counts on it.
Dib fought the urge to roll his eyes, as another flash went off just as the blinding dot from the last one was beginning to fade away. Damn, he might've blinked on that one.
It felt like thousands of people had shown up for today.
It was a week until the official signing off on the Empire to him and as always, there had to be a party thrown with lots of fuss and lots of annoying paparazzi and even more annoying fans. The entire room was decked out with the gorgeous white walls, and the oh-so intricate glass panes and the dazzling posters of encouragement and safety.
It was a celebration and for all intensive purposes it was; there were free beverages and finger foods. There was music and people were dressed nicely. Dib was even wearing a suit for crying out loud. Of course that was under his lab coat. His goggles were shoved onto his forehead and they shined in the bright fluorescent lights.
However, Dib felt about as joyous as a dissected frog. That was to say, he felt nothing at all and dead inside. Shouldn't he be overrun with excitement? Practically beaming? He was after all, so close to being the success he'd dreamed of so long ago. Famous, smart, rich…
A wave of nausea hit him and he politely excused himself to hide in the bathroom.
From across the room, two bodies moved at the same time. One's name was Zita and her brow was furrowed in concern for her boyfriend of three years. Her slinky, silver dress rustled as she maneuvered through the large crowd to go comfort the poor, over emotional boy.
"Dib?" Zita said, in that soft, calming voice of hers. Dib winced and turned around to look at her.
"Oh, hi." He said, sheepishly. She smiled and walked closer to smooth down a wrinkle in his coat.
"Running away?"
"Maybe."
"Need me to get you anything?"
"Um. Just some water or something." Light pink lips turned up kindly. "Please?"
"Of course. Be right back." Dib watched her go, sighing a bit in relief. Zita was nice. She was beautiful and smart. They had been together for three years and known each other for nearly ten. But, sometimes he felt suffocated. It wasn't her fault, Dib reasoned. There must be something wrong with him. Shaking his head, he turned on his heel to go try to hide again and stopped dead in his tracks.
His vision was suddenly bombarded with jade, violet and blue satin. Blinking barely worked, but after a few seconds his vision adjusted; sweeping black hair like ink, emerald skin…a lean, incredibly skinny, curve-less body encased in what had to be illegally tight sapphire colored satin. Miles and miles of legs, topped black heels fitted with useless buckles.
"…what you see?"
Dib knew he looked like a moron.
"W-What?" He asked, finally looking up from the shoes to stare straight into those eyes. They were massive, shining ethereally. They were so beautiful they almost looked fake. Then there was that predatory smile. It was a threat. Those lips and teeth could eat him up and he would let them.
He shook himself, feeling a horrible flush spread onto his cheeks. What the fuck was wrong with him? "What? I'm sorry. I didn't see you there."
The person laughed. "I said, 'Do you like what you see?' You had been staring at me for nearly a whole minute without so much as blinking." The blush increased by about 988% percent.
"Oh, uh. I'm insane. Just ignore me and you'll be okay." He mumbled, absently.
"Did I get in your way?" The person asked. That voice…
"Um. No. Yes…Yes, actually. I was going to go to the bathroom." A sigh. It was silk.
"I'm sorry. I was hoping to finally talk to you."
He'd been trying to slowly edge his way towards the restroom. For some reason, his heart rate had kicked up double speed. He felt the tale tail sign of adrenaline. That meant his fight or flight response had kicked in. Something about this…woman (No, the voice sounds low. There's an Adams Apple. No breasts. No curves.) this…man screamed, 'Danger! Get away!' But, now he stopped in astonishment.
"Y-you wanted to talk to me?" No one ever wants to talk to me…' He thought. 'I'm just Membrane's son. Well, now I guess its differen—' The man was talking again, cutting off his mental musings.
"Of course." Pink teeth bit down on his bottom lip. "I'm your biggest fan."
"Are you crazy?" He blurted.
The man raised an eyebrow, well…an eyebrow ridge. "Perhaps. My name is Zim." Zim smirked and took a step forward; invading what Dib liked to think was his personal bubble. "We already know your name. Dib Membrane. Soon to be the new manager of Membrane Laboratories. You're 23 years old and I love the way you bite your bottom lip when you're nervous." There was that deadly smile again. "But, I might be getting ahead of myself. I don't want you to think I'm creepy. I am. But, I don't want to frighten you."
Dib gulped and the 'urge to run' notch moved up about 800 inches. But, his feet stayed in place, glued to the floor. All he could see was those eyes. They were hypnotic. The voice. The lips. Who the hell was this person? Zim…"I-I'm not frightened. It's nice to meet you…Zim."
"That's good. It was nice to meet you too, Dib. After admiring you for so long, it's a pleasure," Why did that word make his toes tingle? That's unnatural. "to see you in person." His eyes flickered over Dib's shoulder. "I have to go now. Your girlfriend is coming and I don't want her to murder me."
Zim stepped away from Dib and all his breath came out in one rush as he watched the stranger walk away. "See you soon, Dib." Very soon.
It was cold suddenly and when Zita handed him the glass of water, he drank it without saying anything or feeling anything. Too much had happened tonight and even though his father, his assistants and Zita kept asking him what was wrong…He had no answer for them.
He had no idea, himself.
Dib finally stripped himself of his uniform and fell into his overly large bed face first. With a deep sigh he resolved to put everything out of his mind and focus on the Empire. In little over a week, he would be in control of one the biggest enterprise in the world. He had no time to think about anything else. Much less some stranger with giant violet eyes and a smile that could kill.
A.N.: Okay...Before you start screaming at me; I KNOW DIB'S LAST NAME ISN'T MEMBRANE. FOR THE SAKE OF MY SANITY AND THE FIC I MADE THAT HIS LAST NAME. okay. Are we good? Good.
I hope you like it. Just the beginning of the evil deliciousness. Now..off to sleeeeeeep~ -dies-
I don't own IZ.
