Vox Mandark (The voice of Mandark)
I do not own Dexter's Laboratory, but I do wish it was returned to it's former self,like season one and two.
Only one can wish for the reserruction of the death of one of America's most loved cartoons of the nineties. We salute you Dexter.
O.K..... on with the story.
How does it feel to be one of the beautiful people? To be loved and known and worshipped like some kind of saint or goddess? To be respected like one of the greats? I always wanted people to force that energy on me, and I shall obtain it in any way possible.
These were the thoughts of a raven-haired child, most likely at the age of ten, as he pondered while looking at the world from out of a school bus window. This child was lanky, thin from his vegetarian diet - one thing he thought in his life to be bittersweet- and conformed the typical stereotype of the well-renouned nerd with his dark-rimmed glasses, butchered haircut, mismatched apparel, and his seclusion from anything social. The nerd stereotype would be dead on if he carried the perfect name of the geek: Dexter.
That was not to be. This child had no such name to be blessed with, the arpatheon of scientists renouned. Not at all.
His name is Mandark Astronominov, and the name Dexter falls suit to him in the same catagory like Satan.
How he loathed that stereotype forced upon him. Sure he hated 'four eyes', 'smarty','geek','nerd', and even some of the stronger words like 'faggot', and 'pussy.'
But the one he despised the most was 'poindexter'.
Poindexter. Take away the first four letters, and you get Dexter.
Dexter. He haunts him like a bad song, getting stuck in your head, and the speak of such of a thing makes it a disgrace to the whole catagory it falls in, like conservatives did to the Republican Party, or Yoko Ono did to the history of music.
"Mental note," Mandark thought, "When and if I do take control of the world, the first one to die on my list shall be Yoko Ono. Nay, better yet, I shall torture her endlessly by making her listen to her own singing."
But enough about old cuckolds married to the only hope for humanity.
Mandark looked back and saw the devil himself, with one of his friends.
The small fiery-haired boy was looking down on a piece of paper, his similar black-rimmed glasses hiding the structure of his Scottish eyes. He took a violet glove-covered finger and pointed to something and laughed.
"With that equasion, Douglas, you have proven that we don't exist!"
That gravely feminine deep tone flared hatred into Astronominov.
"Perhaps I don't like him because he has friends....."
Mandark licked his lips.
"Well, one friend actually. I'm not that far behind."
The lanky boy focused his attention again to the window, trying to drown out the chatter and laughter of the children. They seemed happy, so why was his life such a living hell? Was it that he was smarter than the average child?
Dexter's nasal laughter rung through his ears.
"Yes." Mandark gritted out deeply.
Deep and intense in thought, the young mad scientist plotted a way to downfall the ranks of everyone else, and rise his standards.
Just as he was about to get it, he felt a dull blow upon his black crown, and saw those exact pair of glasses like his fall downward to rest in the faux leather seat.
"HEY, YOOOOOOOU!"
European tone......Dexter. Something happened.
"This oughta be good." Mandark huffed, as he turned around to see the entertainment of his worst rival face off with an even more hated bully.
The small boy raised a fist in a threatening manner, light shining off of the purple rubber.
Mandark decided to be a patron once, and tapped the scientist on the shoulder. As soon as his finger contacted with the white lab coat, the older male turned around, and frowned, barely able to see.
"What is it! Can't you see I have to crush this ignoramous?!"
"Well gee Dexter, I don't think you will get THAT far without your glasses."
Mandark snorted out jauntily, thrusting the glasses into the other's hands.
Doe eyes looked at the blurred figure up and down, green iris' thinning out, and pupils darkening. The small boy took the accepted return of his visionary apparatus, and placed it back on it's proper place.
"Hey.....thanks! You are almost as smart as me!" Dexter snorted, a compliment and an insult rolled in one.
"Ouch." Mandark laughed, and narrowed his eyes.
By then, Dexter's friend, Mordechai, was also threatening the large fifth-grader. Sharp complex words spawned from his nasal accent.
"You won't get that far with your prudish ways! Dexter is a master genius, and can destroy you with his plasmatic microteleport! He can zap you to infra-stellar worlds unknown to mankind!"
This evoked the laughter of the socials, and embarassed the small scientist, who showed his disgust by covering his face with his hand, and muttering under his breath.
"Goddamn you Douglas. It's bad enough that I am unpopular..."
Mandark stifled a laugh so that he would not interrupt Dexter's rage, and then have him turn around and focus it on him.
The bully gaffawed, and smacked Dexter in his face, planting a large red handmark across the boy's delicate features.
"Ohhhh......sticking up for your boyfriend, faggot?" the large fifth-grader roared. Such hostile language for an elementary schooler.
As much as he hated Dexter as a rival, NOBODY had the right to touch him in such a manner. Not even he himself would consider of doing such a thing. Perhaps take it out on his robots or his lab, but not on the creatour.
A small rage flared into the lanky scientist, seeing a fellow student in the art of knowing, being bossed around by the common enemy known to nerds. He too felt the pain delt by this foul fifth-grader....
Mandark then cowered, leaving Dexter to fight the child on his own.
"I cannot do this! I am MANDARK! Evil boy genius! I have a repitation to uphold, and a grudge against that laboratory destructour!"
He curls up in his seat, crossed between confusion and anger. This primal feeling left not only Dexter hopless, but him too to his actions. Part of him would never live this down.
He slowly grabs the edge of the seat with his fingertips, dirty pleather contacting with his tan skin, and looks over the edge, hiding, yet curious.
Dexter, shocked, rubs the mark where we was hit, and fixes his glasses. Douglas snarls.
"How dare you do that to my friend!"
Then, a surprise to all, the meek Dexter rises up with a growl, and hits the bully.....unsuccessfully. His gloved fist makes contact with the air, blowing only the free strands of the opressour's sable hair, as his short stature prevented him from being in the beast's range.
The last thing Dexter sees is the paleness of the fist and the mountain-like knuckles, before he is knocked back in return.
A sickening crack echoed through the bus, enlightening the socials with some gruesome viewing pleasure.
Dexter's glasses drop down onto the dirty bus hallway for everyone to see the outcome:
Cracked, shattered glass, and flecks of the male's precious blood.
Mandark saw it and cringed. The glasses he gave his rival earlier now lay upon the floor, shattered like the little boy's soul.
This ignited the fuse.
"You son of a BITCH!"
The younger, taller scientist bellowed out in an enraged nasal tone, and stood up, disregarding the bus rules, and setting a fighter's stance.
Brown eyes curiously fell from the threat to the pathetic heap which was now his rival.
Dexter cried out in pain, a noise Mandark never heard the boy emit, even when he defeated him. Such a foreign noise prodded him further into stretching his sanity, considering a physical fight with someone.
Douglas was in shock, his brunette hair covering the face of the fellow scientist and obstructing the view of the real damage....that was until he moved.
Mandark gasped mentally.
Blood and parts of the shattered lenses were implanted in his cheeks. Tears mixed with plasma ran down and streaked the child's face like some morbid mascara. A large patch of darkening skin surrounded the impact area.
"What are you going to do? Protect that little mick? Yeah...faggot."
The biggot's taunt rung like an alarm bell, and that's all Mandark needed.
The youth slung his brown backpack, and decked the bully clean across the face.
Oh yeah, and the science and math books didn't soften the blow either.
The next thing the socials saw was a former threat of a fifth-grader heaped upon the floor in defeat, and the tall nerd left standing, panting from swinging such a weight.
Mandark couldn't help but smile and laugh internally, but a state of shock covered his external features.
"The ultimate role-reversal." he mused, looking down at the saguine puddle spurting from the boy's nose.
All of the kids seemed thrilled in a shocking upset.
A nerd? Beats up a jock?
All of them seemed enthusiastic about the outcome.....except for the bus driver, who just seemed to notice.
"Hey! How many times do I have to tell you kids NOT TO STAND UP ON THE BUS?!"
Mandark snapped out of his unexpected shock, and took a seat next to the injured boy.
Douglas looked up in awe at the anti-social taking place next to Dexter, mainly of what a courageous thing he never thought someone like him would do, especially for the young injured scientist that was his rival.
"I cannot believe you did that." the pimply Mordechai eeked out, then looked down at the casuality of the bully's wrath.
Dexter gave out small whimpers, and tried to dig the small shards out of his cheeks.
Mandark looked down at they boy and sighed. "Nor can I."
He bats Dexter's gloved hands away from his own scarred cheeks.
"Dexter," he hissed sharply, regaining his irritability of the rival, "you do that, and you are going to make the cuts even deeper."
Dexter growls, realising who was next to him besides Douglas.
"Mandark! Don't you DARE hurt ME! That would be unsophisticated out of a fellow scientist, though I HARDLY doubt you fall in THAT catagory."
Dexter still composed his razor-tongue and caustic attitude even when injured.
Mandark snorts, then digs through his backpack, unzipping a front compartment.
"Dexter! He's only trying to help! He saved you from that bully! Show some gratitude!"
Douglas scolds the scientist, peeved on the outcome of his attitude.
"Help my ass." Dexter grinds out under his breath.
Mandark finds a pair of tweezers, and starts probing the pallid flesh around the glass, and plucks it out. Dexter feeling the cold metal, and not being able to see clearly started to panic, knowing that this was Mandark; whom he always thought that he wanted to kill him, was making this opportunity to finish the job, or even inserting something that will.
"Kill me off, why don't you!" He snarls, awaiting for Mandark to lash pain out on his feeble body.
Douglas furrows his brow and huffs. "Dexter! He is removing the shards of glass! He's NOT trying to kill you."
Mandark sighs, taking out another piece.
By then, the bus driver saw the collapsed biggot in the hallway, and pulled over haistily.
"What happened back here?" she yelled, rushing over to the fallen kid.
"WHO DID THIS?" She barked, making the children cringe.
"Ma'am, this boy is hurt. Ma'am! Hey!" the raven-haired genius screamed out.
However....the startled woman interpeted it as someone admiting to the incident.
"I knew it had to be YOU!" She grabs the scientist by the arm, and pulls him up to the front.
"HEY! DEXTER'S HURT! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"
Mandark protested, alongside with Douglas, who pleaded that he was not the perpetratour, and that Dexter needed some serious medical attention.
The childern took sides, and yelled out accusing Mandark of this heinous crime. They didn't care, after all, to them he was inexpendable, and most were friends of the bully.
Mandark did take a blow to the bully, but only in self defense. How could that be a crime?
Mandark shouted out "TAKE THE TWEEZERS, DOUGLAS!" over the ever growing roar of the socials, and internally cried.
The pimply nerd nodded, barely able to make out the boy's words, and contiuned where Astronominov left off.