Hola! Me again, with another very cynical angsty one-shot. Doesn't it suck when all you can write are short, depressing stories? I mean, I honestly want to stop writing depressing fics like these and make a non-incestuous story with chapters... Maybe when I get a girlfriend... Or not.
More description at the bottom, as to not give anything about this story away from the outset.
WARNING: This piece of fiction, apart from being pointlessly sadistic to satisfy my own weirdness, contains extreme graphic violence and gore. Still, I don't think it warrants an NC-17. I mean, they let kids in to watch that two-hour torturefest Mel Gibson made. And I hate to imagine how many children were traumatized by that... I'm so glad I didn't let my brothers watch that. I mean, what was the MPAA thinking?!?!?! Aw, well. I digress.
Disclaimer: Invader Zim (and everything that green dude thinks he owns) belongs to Jhonen Vasquez.
Another Worthless Emotion
I am not a violent being.
At least I would think that I'm not a violent being.
But there are some forms of hatred that do not sleep. That do not leave me.
They give me the power to do things like this.
My allies run off in pursuit, but I have no need to run to catch my prey.
With a blast from my energy rifle another one falls to the floor. Its legs are scorched.
For a moment it begs to me, begs with those pleading eyes, like some fucking fetus that believes it has the right to live.
Not in my world.
I walk over to the empty patch of land where it lies in agony, hiding its face from me.
And I kick it. And I kick it again. Until blood erupts from its mouth and it curls up tight, as any one of these worms would on impulse.
It mumbles to me in a language I have almost forgotten... With whatever hope it has left.
How can these damned things live on their hope? Or on their faith, for that matter?
I crush the side of its head with my spiked metal boots. Slowly. So I can smell the blood, so I can hear it oozing out.
Looking at its eyes again, I come into acceptance of the fact I tried to deny upon my first glace.
That this one is different.
But not different enough to make me care.
"Now look what you did, you piece of human shit! You got my fucking boot dirty!"
Ah... Yes, this language is still the most fun to curse with.
Putting my weight on the creature's head, I use my other foot to kick its frail rag of a body over on its backside. Then with a scrape I pull my foot off the side of its face. I want to see its eyes one more time.
"What's the matter? You don't find me funny? I was being sarcastic. You love sarcasm."
The being's eyes are obscured by its own blood, yet it continues to cry for solace from whatever deity it worships.
It should understand that there are no deities but us, and there is no solace but that which we offer them.
I don't expect it to understand. But it should.
"Tell me, human. Where are the others?"
It's still shaking. I know it can understand what I'm saying. But its emotions interfere. It thinks that it deserves some time to recover before answering my query. It should know I don't have time for such bullshit.
"YOU STINKING FILTH! TELL ME WHERE THE FUCK THEY'RE GOING! WHERE IN THOSE GODDAMN HILLS THEY'RE HIDING!!!"
It avoids looking into my eyes.
I'll be damned.
I take out my favorite weapon.
This is getting tedious.
Hold still.
Hold the fuck still.
Don't make me soil my gloves with your blood.
A slap in the face.
Its face.
An expected wince.
I remember what that used to feel like.
My foot on its stomach.
My right hand on its neck.
My left hand skillfully manipulating my knife across the creature's pale countenance.
"You want to keep your face? Huh? Your pretty little face?"
More sobs.
If only the human realized how little its presence fucking mattered, then maybe it would shut the fuck up and tell me what I need to know.
Maybe.
You can never tell with these things.
"You are nothing but a fucking dog in the sand to me. And don't think I won't fucking treat you like one, you little bitch!"
Sometimes you have to talk their language.
It asks me why I am doing this.
Why I have "betrayed" them.
As if anything it will say will snap me out of some fucking delusion.
I used to wonder why they even bothered.
But through the years I've come to learn that sometimes these creatures don't even understand their own language.
Meticulously I trace an outline of the being's face with my sharp tool.
And I smile, savoring every ounce of this rare moment.
A moment of elegance.
"You know how your kind says it's what matters inside that counts?"
I rip off the top layer of skin, exposing the human's scarlet flesh and muscle to the deadly fumes in the air and the torment of the sun that now scorches this doomed planet.
"Well, this is my way of saying that's all bullshit."
I pull from the floor a glass shard from what used to be a bathroom mirror and hold it before the creature.
The only part of its exposed visage not drenched in blood opens slowly.
Its left eye.
Screams. Or, attempted screams at least.
My grip on its neck loosens.
I release it from my grasp, awaiting an answer to my first question.
This should have been more than enough for one of these creatures.
Yet it tells me that it would rather die than tell me anything.
And it must think it deserves some kind of award for saying that.
"Why do you fear that what's best for you? Why do your people fear blindness when even with their own eyes they see no truth?"
I stab out that left eye.
Ooze.
More screams.
Nasty.
"You and your people are afraid of what you do not know, what your limited intellect cannot comprehend! You fear those who know more than you do!"
I spit into my gloves and rub my hands together.
Looking straight into its eyes, I dance my fingers around the throbbing flesh that is my victim's face.
"You feared me... And what I knew. You all did. That's why you treated me like such shit, isn't it? You and all your fucking... savages!"
I stand up, distancing myself from the being, and watch it cry out in torment on the floor, shaking...
It takes long pauses while gasping out loud, trying to inhale the toxic air.
Air it will use to scream out at me with all its emotion.
Fuck emotions in all their futility.
It keeps screaming, breathing, crying in pain.
Not the first time I've heard this exact sound, I recall.
So there's no reason why dealing with this one should be any different.
"No, you are just like the others. They screamed exactly like this, you know. Exactly like you. Taking breaths that they did not need. Not where you're going, at least."
Blood staining the sand.
Sand sticking to the creature.
Me kicking sand into the human's exposed flesh, stinging its face.
Like pouring salt on an Earthly slug.
It's disgusting.
But it's also beautiful.
It's not such a crime to kill a being unworthy of life.
"It's ironic, isn't it? I wouldn't have left if it weren't for you. And I wouldn't be fucking standing here, like this. Not that I don't enjoy what I do. Just that it amuses me to think of what would have happened if you saw what I was like on the inside. Or if any of your kind did, for that matter. But come to think of it... If I knew then as I do now, then from day fucking one I never would have bothered trying to reason with any of you."
A short span of silence. I prod it with my boot to make sure it isn't dead.
"Get the fuck up."
It coughs out blood as it tries to sit up.
Unsuccessfully, I might add.
It probably knew it was futile before it tried.
But that didn't stop it.
The stupidity of these creatures is fucking amazing, I swear.
"To be honest, I never expected you to talk. Not just because you're another monkey like them. Because you never were one for talking... You thought that made you so perfect."
A pause.
The wind is quiet, but it is not still.
This bronze-tinted wasteland bears no resemblance to what it once was twenty-three years ago.
But I have to admit that there is something in the air here that brings back that unmistakable feeling of being... home.
Of being a child again.
Must be a defect in the human subconscious that triggers these emotions to remind us how nice it was to live in a time of innocence.
Whatever.
That 'defect' doesn't take into consideration people who've had fucked up childhoods.
Take me, for instance.
Not that I had the worst childhood in the world.
But in all honestly, it was one that I would rather forget.
Just like this pathetic creature here and all the emotions that I associate with it.
I hate being human.
"But you see, the only way to perfection is to follow our example. The Meekrob are beings of pure energy. No emotion. Nothing to hold us back from our conquest. Except for this planet. Isn't that funny?"
I'm not sure if my prey is still listening to me.
With a sigh I take out my blade again, and drop it right into the monster's leg.
A scream of pain.
Satisfying.
"As I was saying, isn't that funny... That they needed a man on the inside to get the job done? That no other race in this universe could lower their level of intelligence enough to comprehend you creatures? Hmm? What was that? You're too busy whining for your own pathetic existence? FOR ONCE IN YOUR GODDAMN LIFE, LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M FUCKING TALKING TO YOU!!!"
I bend down, pull out my knife and begin to carefully carve open the being's eyelids all in one swift motion.Carefully.
Because it needs to see me.
Not because I feel sorry for it...
Or do I, beneath all this?
I hate catching myself muddled in question.
Time to find the answer.
"Yes, I would like to be the last one left, if you've ever wondered about that. And I will be happy to be. Your race never should have existed in the first place, so I don't see why you felt the need to start a resistance. The Irkens had one. But, needless to say, there would have been a whole lot more Irken slaves in our salt mines if they just surrendered without a fight."
I blow off some of the blood that covers the being's retina.
Blood from its flesh rushes down to eclipse it once more.
With my gloved fingers I wipe it away.
And I dare a taste of the red life juice.
Intoxicating.
I make sure the cyclops watches as I lick my finger dry.
Its eyes, before today at least, were perfect.
Unlike mine.
I adjust the human-made device that helps me see what they see.
My physical vision may be impaired...
But it's my foresight that counts.
"What were you trying to accomplish with that cowardly act of terrorism? Of all those who chose to deny the truth we so generously offered, you humans are definitely the least organized. Pathetic."
No response.
No matter.
Now that I have its attention, I stand up.
And I look out past the rusted remains of the city to the mountainous region where the rest of the rebels have retreated to.
The scarred creature staring up at me has finally given up on its screaming.
Given up, or run out of breath.
It doesn't matter.
The will to live has been taken from it.
"But I guess it was inevitable. Lesser life forms never have the ability to look at the big picture, to understand the consequences of their actions. All you and your people see is what you want to see. Your immediate desires fulfilled. Life. Food. Water. Getting laid. I really hate to preach but that's the fucking truth. You're an anomaly in this universe. I thought you understood that. I thought you knew better. But lookin' at you here, I guess you really didn't, Gaz. And for that, you disgust me."
I twitch my eyes and use the power of my horribly huge brain to activate a compartment on the modified Irken Pak that hides under my uniform.
A spoil of war, yet at the same time the only thing I have left to remember my one mortal enemy.
A robotic arm props out before me and places into my hands the weapon I've been so tenderly saving for this glorious occassion.
A wooden baseball bat.
Funny how it all works out- she was always the bully.
With a crooked, half-forced smile on my face, I take aim, and for the first time in ages, I feel nervous.
I feel nervous even though I'm aware it's just another worthless emotion.
Isn't that strange?
Nobody here to tell me I'm crazy.
But what's even stranger is...
Sometimes I feel human.
I hate those times.
A/N: Pretty nasty, eh? I'm honestly tired of writing solely from Dib's perspective. Hopefully, whatever pops out of my head next will be a non-IZ story... Or at least an IZ story that doesn't involve Dib being angry or depressed about something, because I know that aspect of my writing is getting old fast.
For those still a little confused, this is supposed to take place LONG after the IZ series. If IZ would have continued, Jhonen was thinking of having Dib become the ambassador to Meekrob, thus moving the series mostly off of Earth. Then in a TV movie aptly named "Invader Dib", Dib would ally up with them to overthrow the Irkens. Or something like that. I don't know what goes on in JCV's brilliant mind. Basically, this one-shot is my take at what Dib would be like after all those years of warring and being alienated (literally and metaphorically) from Earth.
Please read and review! Thanks in advance.