A/n: So it seems that I've pissed some people off in the last chapter. Good. That's what I was going for. I like this idea of Dib turning out to be such an asshole that you don't know whether or not to be on his side. I like the idea that Gaz finally got what she has had coming for her, but not in the right context. The fact that I was able to have some readers go "Yay! Oh…wait a minute…" makes me giggle uncontrollably. Yes, I know, I am an evil, evil author.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for your fabulous reviews. One thing that I have to clear up for Kitsune: Lust is Not going to be a slash thing. It really won't even be very sexual. Any slash that's going to be in this fic will prolly show up in the Envy chapter and only be hinted at. There will be no graphic sex. The Gluttony chapter had the most sex that this fic will have, prolly. How can you have Lust without sex, you may ask? Heh. You'll see. Lust can mean very many things. However, that chapter will be on the disturbing side and will deal with some serious issues, so it still may be hard to read…I know that it will be hard to write, if only because I am going to use it to work out some of my own personal issues. But anyhow, I just wanted to clear that up, cos I think that my opening A/n in the last chapter was misread.

Oh, yeah, references:

-"…and a thirty hour nap." This is extremely obscure and is from a web comic I read called "Stubble" (www(dot)stubblecomics(dot)com). Everyone should check it out, it's a good read. I just think that it's a funny thing to say, now, and has kinda become one of my phrases at work…thirty hour nap…heh.

-Dib hit Gaz while on Spooner Street. Who lives on Spooner Street? Why the Griffin family on the tv show "Family Guy", of course. If you've never watched Family Guy you need to watch Cartoon Network at night more often, cos seriously, that is some Funny Shit.

WARNING: This chapter is on the extreme side of violent and draws a lot from JTHM.

Ps. I just realized that this story is up to 114 pages, not including this chapter (cos I write these little notes before I do the chapter). FPL ended up being 108. I'm only 4 chapters into this one, while FPL was 14 including the epilogue. Holy crap, I think I might be writing a novel here. Wow.

Pps: Let me know if the pacing in this chapter is understandable. I tried to go for a slight Vanilla Sky type pacing, as you will see, but with this being just words and not visual, it's hard to convey what is taking place when and where. Does that make sense?

Is it odd that I'm writing this while listening to Ben Folds/Ben Folds Five?

DISCLAIMER: I own not IZ. 'Cept on Dvd…does that count? hopeful face

You Only Live Twice

PART FIVE: In which Dib tastes blood.

Main Entry: wrath
Pronunciation: 'rath, chiefly British 'roth
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English wrAEththo, from wrAth wroth - more at WROTH
1 strong vengeful anger or indignation
2 retributory punishment for an offense or a crime divine chastisement
synonym see ANGER

I watched in calm acceptance as my blood swirled in the sink and down the drain, causing the normally pristinely white porcelain to take on a faint pink hue. My body ached from head to toe, and, upon looking at my hazy reflection in the mirror above the sink though my broken glasses, I realized that I barely recognized myself. Weren't bullies supposed to calm down once you reached high school? Weren't they supposed to point that energy elsewhere, such as football or wrestling or some other contact sport? If this were the case, then why the hell was I still being beaten up and shoved into lockers for my lunch money in the tenth grade? Could Torque's social development really be that stunted? Honestly.

I sighed and raised the now rinsed and wrung out washcloth back to the numerous cuts on my face, wincing at the feel of the rough cotton. I would take the laser burns that came with my fights with Zim when I was a kid any day over this. Zim. The thought of my old arch-enemy caused a familiar twinge of pain in my stomach. Who would think, after so many years of trying to get rid of the irritating alien that I would actually miss him when he was finally gone? He had left one day towards the end of the eighth grade. The memory took my attention away from the pain that cleaning my wounds was causing, so I took a moment to focus on it. Emotional discomfort was for some reason easier than physical to deal with. I guess because I was just used to it.

"Wake up, Dib-Worm."

I opened my eyes, slowly, groggily, at the sound of my enemy's voice.

"Go 'way, Zim," I grumbled, squinting at him in the darkness, "you can gloat over whatever the hell you're planning in the morning. I'm tired." I rolled over, away from his form that was perched on my window sill. I heard him growl deep in this throat and jumped, startled, as I felt one of his robotic spider legs poke me in the small of the back.

"What the hell was that for!" I whined, sitting up and turning to face him. I reached blindly behind me for my glasses that were resting on the nightstand, and, finally finding them, placed them on my face. Now that I could see, I noticed Zim's irritated expression. He was without his disguise and glaring at me so hard his ruby eyes almost glowed, however, there was something behind that glare. Some emotion that I rarely saw from the alien. Sadness? Regret?

"I'm leaving, Dib-worm." He stated.

I looked at him for a moment, not comprehending, and then shrugged, "Good, it will save me the trouble of getting out of bed and kicking you out. I'm going back to sleep, goodnight." I started to take my glasses back off and lay back down, when I felt a gloved hand clamp down on my bare shoulder, halting my movements. I always forgot how strong he was.

"No, you stupid child, I'm leaving. As in the planet. I'm going back to Irk."

I turned towards him, again, shock and understanding written on my features. "What do you mean, you're going back to Irk? What about your mission?"

Zim laughed bitterly, releasing his hold on my shoulder, "There is no mission, Dib. The Tallests lied to me. I was sent here to die, nothing else. Your planet has always been safe. It was never marked for conquest by the Empire."

It took me a moment to digest this new information; to fully understand what he was saying, "If your mission was a joke; if you were sent here by your leaders to die, then why go back? Why don't you just stay here?"

"Because I've been sent for. There's a war going on between a resistance faction and Irk. The planet Meekrob, one of our greatest enemies, has sided with the Resisty and my planet is losing. I've been…drafted, you could say. The Tallests are desperate for soldiers, so they've sent for me to return to the Massive to aid them."

"Wait a minute—your leaders send you here to die, lie to you about your mission, treat you like shit at every turn, and now expect you to help them win a little war, possibly dying to do it? You've got to be kidding me! Why are you going?"

"It's my duty, Dib. I have to. I'm a soldier. It's my duty to protect the Massive and my leaders."

"Fuck duty!" I swore, pounding my fist on the bed, "You don't owe them anything, especially not your life; not after the way they've treated you! Don't go, Zim. Stay here. Let them be destroyed."

He shook his head, sadly, looking away from me, "I don't expect you to understand, Dib. I just wanted you to know. You've been an honorable enemy these past few years, and I respect you, which is why I am telling you this. I didn't want to just disappear on you. You deserve better than that."

I could feel the hot pressure of tears behind my eyes, "If you respect me and I've I'm such an honorable enemy, then respect my wishes and stay hereOur war isn't over, yet, Zim—you can't just run off and go fight another!" I was acting childish, I knew, but the thought that, once again, someone important to me was just leaving, just abandoning me, had woken up some small helpless part of me that refused to accept change.

Zim growled again, and grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me slightly, "You foolish child, don't you think that, if I could stay, I would? I have no choice in the matter! Haven't I explained to you before that my brain, my personality, my very being is programmed into my Pak? After transmitting the message telling me to come back to Irk, the Tallests put a tracer on my Pak. They hacked into my programming and made it so that my very essence is telling me to come back. If I ignore it I will be driven insane. They've left me no choice, Dib. I have to go."

I reached out and placed one hand on his shoulder, gripping him hard the same way he was holding me, "We can fix that! We can work on your Pak, find the part of it that the Tallests are tapping into and disable it! Remove the part that is still connected to the collective! We can work around this, Zim, just let me—"

"NO!" Zim shouted, pushing me away from him, "It is too late, Dib! Don't you think that I might have already thought of that? If I disable the part that connects me to the collective, if I turn off the part that the signal is coming from, I will die. I have to go, Dib, I'm sorry, I know that it bothers you. I am not without emotion, myself, and the thought of going off and possibly losing my life for those…creatures…makes me physically ill. But it cannot be helped, Human, I have to go."

"Zim…" I reached my hand out to him, pleading one last time for him to change his mind. He just looked at me and shook his head, and I allowed my hand to fall back on to the bed in front of me.

Zim climbed back onto the window sill and sat with one leg on either side. "You were a worthy opponent, Dib. It was an honor to do battle with you."

"I…" I cleared my throat, forcing the emotions I was feeling into submission, "The honor was mine, Zim. Good luck."

He nodded, turned to leave and then paused, turning back and placing on gloved hand on my head, smoothing back my hair once in a gesture that I didn't think that the alien was even capable of. He gave one more sad smile as he pulled his hand back and then hoisted himself out of the window and into his Voot Cruiser which was hovering outside. Through the window I could see Gir sucking on a popsicle. The robot waved at me, a goofy grin on his face. I waved back, sadly.

Zim met my eyes one last time and gave a solemn salute. I retuned the gesture, holding the pose long after the alien's ship had faded from my sight, and into the night sky.

"Damn it, Dib, get out of there! I have to pee!" My sister's voice broke me out of my reverie, startling me so that I pressed down a bit harder than intended on a rather vicious cut on my cheek, causing it to start bleeding again.

"Shit!" I swore under my breath as I pressed the cloth down harder to stanch the blood, "Shit, shit, shit!"

Gaz pounded on the door, again, "I'm serious, Dib, get out of there! You can masturbate in your room like a normal person!"

"Hold on a second!" I shouted, wringing the cloth out in the sink, again, "And I'm not jerking off!"

"Yeah, right! Why the hell else would you have been in there for an hour!"

I swung the door open, hard, revealing to her why, exactly, I had been in there for the last hour or so. I heard her gasp, raising a hand to her throat as I glared down at her, her eyes large with surprise and shiny with worry. The moment passed quickly, however, and the familiar detached coldness returned to her eyes as she pushed me harshly out of her way.

"If you got blood on the floor, again, you're going to have to clean it up before Dad gets home, cos there's no way in hell I'm going to." She stated, gruffly before slamming the bathroom door behind her, the knob pressing sharply into the small of my back, causing me to wince as it hit a bruise.

"Yeah, no problem, Sis, thanks for your concern. I'm fine." I mumbled to myself as I made my way to my room. Once there, I closed the door softly behind me and, moving slowly so as to not aggravate my wounds, set about removing my clothing. Twenty long and painful minutes later, I stood in front of my full length mirror, clad only in my boxers, analyzing every cut, scrape, bruise, and scar with a scientist's eye. Was this body really mine? Was this battered and beaten person really me? My skin was more purple and yellow than peach, angry red welts and cuts striped my skin like a tiger, every breath was torture and I could detect a faint movement in my chest that probably meant a rib or two were broken. What had become of me? How was I even surviving this torture?

I sighed and moved away from the mirror, flopping down on my unmade bed, cringing at the fact that even the soft cotton of my sheets hurt my body. I crossed my arms behind my head and stared up at the glow in the dark stars that lined my ceiling. What was I going to do? How was I going to deal with this? How was I going to survive the rest of the tenth grade being pounded to a bloody pulp daily?

"Fight back," A small voice whispered, "show them that you're not going to take it, anymore."

"I've tried that," I answered, sighing and closing my eyes, "I tried to fight back against Torque last year and ended up with a broken wrist for my trouble."

"There are better ways to fight back. More effective ways."

"Being?"

"Weapons, Dib. Knives. Guns. Power tools. Anything that will cause extreme bodily harm. When you hold your enemy's life in your hands, that is when you truly have the power."

"When I hold my—" I sat up, looking around the room, skeptically for any sort of recording devices that might be transmitting the voice. It was so different from the one that I normally heard; the other side of my internal conversations. This one was raspy, guttural, angry in such a primitive, destructive way. This one couldn't be mine. "I'm not going to kill anyone, if that's what you're insinuating." I stated, still looking around.

"Are you so quick to deem my ideas unworthy?" The voice asked.

"Are you so quick to assume I'm going to take the advice of a disembodied voice?" I retorted.

The voice chuckled, the sound not unlike that of air passing through a skull, "Very wise, Dib. Very wise. It shall be fun to break you."

I was starting to get angry, "Who are you? Where are you transmitting from?" I demanded, my eyes moving quickly behind my glasses, scanning for something, anything that could explain this voice.

"I am older than the gods, Dib, and it is time for me to come into power, again. It has been so long since I've had a decent Waste Lock under my command. This shall be most satisfying."

"Waste Lock? What are you talking about? Who are you? What do you want from me?" I shouted, but it was too late, the voice, the presence, was gone, leaving me alone once again.

-

"Now this voice," the doctor began, snapping me back to the present, "was this the first time you had heard it?"

I was sitting in a chair in Dr. V's office, in the middle of one of our thrice weekly sessions.

"What?" I asked, dumbly. To tell the truth I hadn't even realized I had been speaking out loud. A habit left over from my childhood, I guess.

"The voice. The one you heard in your room that night—was it the first time that you had heard it?"

"I…" I had to think for a moment. I heard so many voices, so many words in my mind that it was hard to tell one from another, "I don't know. I think so, but I can't really be sure."

Dr. V narrowed his eyes behind is oval framed glasses and sighed, "Alright, Dib, continue. You heard a voice telling you that you were a, what was it? 'Waste Lock'?"

I nodded.

"Ok, a Waste Lock. What then?"

-

"Hey, Dib, c'mere!" Torque's voice echoed through the hall way. I focused my attention into the locker in front of me. Just pull what books you need and walk to class, pull what books you need and walk to class, pull what books you need and ignore that giant hand that has somehow made its way to your shoulder and is turning you around and dear God this kid needs a breath mint something fierce.

"You should know better by now than to ignore me, Dib," the bully growled, his face mere inches from my own.

"S-sorry, Torque, I didn't hear you," I stammered, lamely, squinting to see through the lenses of my glasses that Torque's breath was fogging up.

The bully glared at me for a moment, but my excuse seemed to satisfy him, because he let go of the hold he had on my shoulder, roughly, the force slamming me into the locker behind me.

"You have something for me, right, Membrane?"

Shit. I had completely forgotten because I had hurt so badly the night before. The reason I was even beaten up in the first place was because, in a moment of personal vengeance, I had given Torque the wrong answered to his Bio test—a test that I had taken the period before he had. Because he failed so miserably, the teacher offered him a make up exam, and I had sworn (only after feeling my shoulder begin to slide from it's socket as the larger boy twisted my arm behind my back) to give him the correct answers today.

However, since the test had been a week ago, and there was no guarantee that the teacher was even going to give him the same form as last time, there was no way that I could hand over the information Torque sought. But there was no way I was going to tell him that.

"I—I don't have it, Torque. May-maybe you should have tried studying like everyone else." I stated, trying desperately to stand tall against the bully. To show him that I wasn't afraid. To not piss myself.

Torque's face grew red with anger, "You. Don't. Have. It." He repeated.

I shook my head, "No, I don't. And—and I'm not going to have any answers for you, anymore. You—you can do your own work."

Torque's eyes narrowed at me, then, and I felt myself gulp in an attempt to rid myself of the rather large lump that had formed in my throat. Suddenly, however, something seemed to clear in the other boy's eyes and he smiled. For some reason I wasn't comforted.

"Alright, Membrane. That's cool. You don't want to help me, you don't have to."

I was aghast. "Really?"

Torque smirked, "No."

That said, I was caught off guard with a fist to the stomach. Pulling me away from my instinctual position of being curled around the injury, Torque pulled my head up by my hair and slammed me back into the locker. I could hear a crowd surrounding us, chants and cries of "Fight! Fight!" echoing through the hall. Though my crooked glasses and tear-filled eyes I saw Gaz standing on the outskirts of the crowd. I watched as she shook her head at me in disgust and then turned on her heels, leaving me behind.

As I watched her fading figure, something inside of me grew. Something hot and angry.

"That's is, Dib," the voice whispered in my ear, "feel your anger. Embrace it. Let it take you over."

"No." I growled through teeth that were clinched in pain as Torque continued to rain blows down upon me.

"Yesss, Dib, yessss. Don't fight it. You know you can't fight it. Breath it in."

"No." I managed again, my voice slightly stronger. I felt my hand groping behind me into my locker, feeling for something, anything that would make both the voice and the pain stop.

"Are you still telling me 'no', Membrane?" Torque scoffed, landing another punch by my eye, "Haven't you learned your lesson, yet?"

"Yes, Dib, haven't you learned?" the voice mocked, "Don't talk back. Don't think. Just act."

My fumbling fingers found something; something long and smooth. My hand clutched it for dear life as I felt the hot emotion grow stronger, louder, the blood pulsing in my ears. No, there was no way. There was no way I was going to keep taking it. There was no way I was just going to stand here and—

"Yes!" the voice shouted, somehow louder than the crowd, "Yes!"

No, no. no. no. no. no…

"NO!" I shouted, bringing my fist that was clutching the object from my locker up and into Torque's stomach. He stood for a minute, his face a mask of shock and horror as the crowd grew silent around us. He then stumbled backwards, his hands coming to rest on the pencil that was sticking out of his abdomen, blood beginning to drip from the wound onto the floor.

He looked down at it and began to laugh, "You…you stabbed me…with a pencil?" He gasped, giggling hysterically. He dropped to his knees, hands still pressed tight on the wound.

"Shit." I swore, rushing forward to try and support the fallen bully. I pulled his hands away from the wound to examine it myself. Seeing the amount of blood that was flowing and the way that he was trembling, his lips taking on a faint blue sheen, I jerked my head up and stared at the crowd who still stood there like cattle.

"Someone get the nurse!" I shouted. No one moved. "God damn it! Go! He's going into shock! Fucking get the nurse!"

Something in my voice must have triggered some button in their heads because everyone began to move at once. Some crying, some backing away in horror, others running towards the nurses office and the closest classrooms, or pulling out cell phones, desperate to be the one who got to be the hero; who brought help.

Turning back to Torque, I pressed my hands alongside his to try and stanch the flow of blood. His eyes were rolled back into his head, unconscious, but he was breathing steadily, so that was a good thing. I doubted that a person could die from a pencil in the gut, but the fact that he was in shock didn't make things much better.

Finally, after what felt like forever, I was pushed out of the way by a very frantic nurse. As I stood and backed away from the area to give her space, I felt a hand clamp down hard on my shoulder, and found myself staring up at the face of Mr. Prickley, the principal. He didn't look too happy.

"Mind telling me what happened, here, Son?" He asked.

I sighed, while the voice laughed, and laughed and...

-

"And how did that make you feel?"

"Huh?"

Dr. V sighed and ran his hand through his vivid red hair, "When you stabbed the Smacky boy—how did that make you feel?"

I thought for a moment, trying to put my thoughts into order, trying to come up with a clear idea that was my own within the cloudy tangle that the medication the doctors had me on was making of my brain.

"I felt…" I began, still trying to think, "I felt…strong. Powerful. I had finally taken something into my own hands, and stood up for myself, but…"

"But?"

"But I had hurt him. Badly. I mean, it was just a pencil, but he could have died. It wasn't nearly as bad as what I ended up—" I cut myself off. I didn't want to think about that right now.

"What you ended up doing to your sister?" Dr. V pressed.

I glared at him from under my bangs. Damn it, I didn't want to think about that right now. "Yes."

"And this voice…the one that called you a 'Waste Lock', it's the one that urged you to do this? That urged you to hurt people?"

"Yes, damn it!" I was on my feet, pacing the room, that hot, angry feeling teasing at my brain through the clouds of the medication, "Do you think that I would to that kind of stuff on my own? Do you think that I'm capable of that…of that kind of…damage…on my own?"

Dr. V watched me pace, "So you don't feel as if that voice is an extension of yourself? Of your repressed anger?"

"No…no it can't be. It didn't…doesn't sound like any of the other voices. It doesn't sound like me."

"Perhaps after too long in a cage, it warped. Maybe that's why it sounds so different." He offered.

"No, no, that can't be it."

Dr. V sighed and rearranged himself in his chair. "Aright, Dib, please continue. What happened after you stabbed Torque Smacky?"

-

Five hours and a trip to the police station later, I finally made it home. Letting myself into the seemingly empty house, I closed my eyes and leaned against the door, letting out a frustrated and exhausted sigh as I slid down its cold surface to the floor. Torque would be alright—I hadn't accidentally hit any organs when I stabbed him—and, based on mitigating circumstances, his parents weren't pressing charges. I was, however, suspended from school for three days, and had to go down to the station to be printed and held for a few hours on the charge of aggravated assault. After the Smackys informed that there would be no charges pressed, and once everyone realized who my father was, I was set free. I guess having a famous father had its advantages.

Stripping off my trench coat and tossing it on the back of the couch, I made my way to the kitchen. I hadn't eaten all day and my stomach was making that fact pretty well known.

Gaz was sitting at the table, her trusty Gameslave in her hands, a half eaten slice of leftover pizza on a plate in front of her. She didn't look up as I took a box of Bagel Bites out of the freezer, put half on a plate, thought for a moment, and then added the rest, sticking all 20 of them into the microwave. I hopped up on the counter, gasping in pain once I made it, having forgotten about my misplaced ribs. Gaz showed no reaction to the sound, and continued to play her video game, pausing only to take a quick bite from her dinner.

The timer on the microwave stated that it had been two minutes and twenty four seconds before my sister decided to speak.

"So how was jail?" She asked, her eyes not leaving the small screen of her consol.

A familiar annoyance rose in me as I glared at the little bitch that shared my genes from across the room, "How did you know where I was?"

"You stabbed Torque Smacky with a pencil, where else would you be?" Pause, bite, chew, shrug, "Besides, the station called the house looking for Dad."

Damn. "He wasn't home, was he?"

Gaz let out a bitter laugh that almost caused her to choke on her pizza, "Or course he was, Dib, he was baking cookies, what do you think, moron?"

I sighed, running my hand through my hair, "Did you give the cops the number to the lab?"

I watched the back of my sister's head shake.

"So Dad doesn't know what happened?"

Another shake.

I let out a sigh of relief. "Thank god."

"God had nothing to do with it." Gaz scoffed.

I was about to open my mouth to say something else, but just then the timer went off, signaling that my pizza bagels were done. Slowly sliding off the counter so as to not injure myself further I set about taking my dinner from the microwave and fixing them neatly on the plate. Burning one of my fingers on the hot cheese, I hissed and stuck the appendage into my mouth.

"Ask her if she even noticed you being beat to a pulp this afternoon. Go on. I dare you." the voice hissed.

I thought for a moment, still sucking on my finger and then shrugged to myself. What could it hurt? Continuing to arrange the bagels I asked, as nonchalantly as possible, "So why did you just walk away this afternoon?"

"The situation seemed to be under control." my sister's voice answered from behind me.

I spun to face her, or as much of her as I could see of her, considering her back was still towards me, "Torque was kicking my ass!"

Shrug, pause, bite, chew. "Like I said: under control."

I glared at her, but bit my tongue, turning back towards my food.

"Are you really going to take that from her?" the voice sneered, "Are you really going to sit there while your little sister takes the upper hand?"

"What am I supposed to do about it?" I mumbled.

"Will you be quiet, already? You're fucking up my game."

I felt my hands clench on the edge of the counter.

"That's it," the voice urged, soothingly, "feel your anger. Dib. Let it in. 'What are you supposed to do about it?' Why fight back, of course! Like you did with the Smacky boy."

"No." I murmered.

"What did you say?"

I ignored her, focusing only on the voice.

"No? Dib, you have no choice in the matter. Do you really want to be a welcome mat your entire life? A carpet? Someone for everyone to wipe the shit off their shoes on? The little wench behind you is a perfect example of everything you should hate about the world. She cares nothing about what is outside of her little deluded bubble; only about what she brings into it. She is nothing but a consumer, Dib. A consumer who makes your life miserable by her very presence. You should do something about that."

"No, no I won't do that." I whispered.

"Again with the 'no'. What the hell is wrong with you?"

I felt the anger suddenly rise up and consume me. My body moved of its own accord, stalking across the room and ripping the GameSlave from my sister's hands.

"You! You're what is wrong with me!" I shouted, throwing the consol across the room. It cracked in half on impact with the wall, setting its ghostly powers free before the plastic shell clattered into the sink.

My sister was on her feet in an instant, her eyes glowing with rage, "You had better be hiding a new GameSlave around here, somewhere, Dib, or so help me—"

"What? What are you going to do, Gaz? 'Doom me'?" I asked, my voice dripping with mockery, "Give me a break. I'm tired of your bullshit, Gaz. I'm not going to take it, anymore."

She was advancing on me, her body tense and poised to attack, "Oh you'll take it, alright. You'll take it and—"

Her words were cut short as I lunged at her, pinning her to the wall with one arm pressed against her throat. "I don't think, so, little sister." I sneered, holding my face only a few inches from my own, forcing my weight on my arm so that it cut off her air supply, "You see, I'm not going to listen to you, anymore. I'm not going to listen to any of the shit that you and people like you spew from your hideous mouths, any more. Do you understand me?"

She was gasping for air, her small hands tugging at my arm, ignoring my question. I growled deep in my throat and pressed down harder. "I said, do you understand me!"

She let out a croaking noise and nodded. "Good." I stated, smiling sadistically, "Now stay the fuck out of my way."

That said, I felt the anger and the strength that came with it drain out of me like liquid, causing me to feel cold from my head down to my toes. I staggered a bit at the sensation, releasing Gaz, who slid down the wall into a shuddering, gasping heap. I stared in wide eyed disbelief at her, and then at my hands, and then ran from the room. I grabbed my trench from its place on the couch on my way out the door. I needed to get out of there, and I needed to get out of there fast. In the back of my mind, I heard laughter.

-

I didn't even realize where I was running to until I got there. Zim's hideous green house stood empty, as it had for the past three years, the familiar glow having faded long before that, even. I stood, looking up at it for a few long moments, the wind blowing my hair in a million different directions. I shivered, pulling my trench closer around me and began to walk up to the front door.

The gnomes paid me no heed as I pushed open the door. The never did, anymore, of course, their artificial intelligence having been cut off when Zim cut the power to the base. I entered the darkened living room, walking over to and flopping on the couch, coughing slightly at the cloud of dust that rose from the unused piece of furniture.

Laying there, in my enemy's abandoned home, I stared that the wire covered ceiling, wondering what the hell had been happening, lately. Was I finally going insane? Had I been all along? Had my ability to just sit and take whatever bullshit was thrown at me just finally reached its peak?

"Stop trying to think of excuses, Dib, you're never going to come up with a logical explanation."

I sighed and closed my eyes. I really wasn't in the mood for this right now. "Go away. Haven't you done enough, today?"

The voice chuckled, "This is just the start, my unwitting little slave."

"I am not your slave." I muttered, determination making my voice stronger than I truly felt.

"You're always slave to something."

In that moment, I thought that I heard a faint echo in the voice, as if two people were speaking at once. I sat up and glanced around the room, searching for something that could have made that effect. Seeing nothing, I laid back down, sliding my glasses up to rest on the top of my head, as I rubbed my hands over my face.

"Why are you doing this?" I moaned.

"Why am I doing this? You're mistaken, Dib. I'm not doing anything. You're the one doing it all."

"That isn't true," I told the inside of my palms, "you're taking over my body, making me do things."

"I'm doing nothing of the sort, Dib. I may put the suggestions into your head, but in the end, it's your body doing the dirty work. Your hands have always itched to be in control—I'm just giving them the power to do so."

"And how is that different from taking me over; from destroying my self control?"

"You mean to tell me that you've never wanted to hit Torque back? That you've never wanted to give Gaz a taste of her own medicine?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"But nothing! You're getting what you want, so what's the problem?"

"It's wrong, that's my problem!" I was sitting now, my voice rising to shout my words, knowing that no one would hear me but the ghosts of my childhood.

"You ungrateful child!" The voice shouted, causing waves of pain through my skull. I fell off the couch to my knees, holding my ears, afraid that my brain might start leaking out if I didn't, "I offer you the power that you need to rise above the shit that stains this world, and you tell me that it is wrong? How much worse is it than what you have gone through every day of your fragile existence? You should be thanking me, using the power I bestow on you with vigor and resolve, not shrinking away from it like a kicked puppy! I am giving you the power to be invincible, invulnerable, immune and invisible to the authorities! To get away with murder! And you deny me?"

"Yes!" I shouted, through the pain, "Yes, I do! I want to save people, not destroy them!"

"And who says that they need to be saved? What makes you think that they have the right to live, considering the way they so thoughtlessly treat others? They are slime, Dib, a mere pestilence. The sooner you understand that, the sooner you give in, the less painful this will become. You won't even remember this uncomfortable transition; this painful past. All you will know is the blood, and in the end, that's all that matters."

"Never." I choked. God, it hurt so badly. I had to resist the urge to take my hands from my head to check for blood. It felt like my skull was ripping itself in half. However, at the pinnacle moment where it seemed that I would be driven insane from the pain, it relented. I collapsed in a heap on the floor, unable to move, barely able to even stand breathing.

"Perhaps I am moving too soon," the voice mused, "it seems as if more training is in order. I shall be patient until then. Your soul is mine, Dib. Remember that. You have no free will. You have been marked from birth and shall always be mine."

That said, I felt the voice fade, retreating back into whatever dark cavern in my subconscious it dwelled. And there, on the floor of Zim's base, amongst the dirt and grime of the past three years, I slept.

-

"I don't want to talk about this, anymore." I stood by the large picture window in Dr. V's office, staring at the street below, watching as the world continued to move, as I sat stagnant in this disgusting little hospital. I felt a slight moment of vertigo, and closed my eyes, swallowing hard, trying ignore the urge to embrace the feeling and propel myself though the glass.

"You really don't have a choice in the matter," the good doctor stated, his voice floating, disembodied, from behind me.

"No, I guess I don't do I?" I mused, opening my eyes. I blew out a breath of air against the cold surface of the window, and using my index finger drew the letter Z followed by a question mark. It was an image that had been floating behind my eyelids since I had first heard the voice. An unanswerable question. I hated unanswerable questions. "If a tree falls in the woods and no one's around to hear it, what's the sound of one hand clapping" Zen bullshit. It made me ill. But then, so did a lot of things.

I turned away from the window and stalked back to the chair across from the stoic doctor. Throwing myself backwards into it, I stretched my limbs, tensing every muscle until they creaked in delicious agony before finally releasing them, sighing and falling limp.

I eyed the doctor from behind my glasses. "Why do you even care, Doc? Why are you bothering? I'm here for a reason, right? I'm completely and utterly, irreversibly insane. Why waste your time shrinking my already shortsighted head?"

"Because you're not crazy, Dib. There's just something that you need to see; need to realize. Once you pinpoint the exact moment where you could have snapped—the exact second where you made the conscious decision to keep your soul, you can be free of this nightmare. You can move on. You've come too far to let this beat you."

"And if you have so much faith in me, why don't you just cut to the chase and tell me what I need to know? Tell me this 'pinnacle moment' you speak of. Quite with the psycho analytical 'tell me about your mother' shit."

The red-headed doctor shook his head, "I can't do that, Dib. That's cheating. I'm breaking enough rules as it is. This is something that you need to figure out for yourself."

I glared at him through my bangs, "If you want to help me, Doc, than help me."

"I'm trying, but you first need to help yourself."

"Asshole."

The man shrugged, "If that's what you think, than think it. However, remember, asshole or not, I'm the only one who gives a flying fuck about you right now. I think that it would be in your best interest to listen to me."

I looked at him, distrust fully evident in my eyes, "That all seems very convenient. How do I know that you're not just in my head like everything else?"

Dr. V chuckled, giving me a knowing smirk, "And how do I know that you're not just in mine?"

"Good point." I didn't like that smile, but there was nothing I could really do about it. Not without the proper tools, anyhow.

"Alright, so let's get started again, shall we?"

I sighed and slumped further in my seat, putting my weight onto my back as I sat. "Yeah, fine, whatever." I conceded.

-

The next week or so passed by pretty much uneventfully. I returned to school after my three day suspension period was over, seemingly to the chagrin of my classmates, who watched me with fearful and wary eyes. But at least they were leaving me alone, for once, which was a welcome respite from the normal daily routine of ridicule I would have had to face, otherwise.

Torque still hadn't returned from the hospital. Either that or his parents were keeping him at home for the time being. Either way, he wasn't there when I came back from my suspension, and I thanked the gods for finally giving me a break.

While the voice had stayed true to its word, and been patient, leaving my thoughts to myself, I could still feel it tickling the outside of my brain. I found myself delving into horribly violent fantasies about sawing cheerleaders' legs off and doing horrible things with salad tongs. These visions disturbed me so much that I began to actually pay attention in class, if only to keep my thoughts in the present and to stop my imagination from taking over.

One day, about two weeks after the incident with Torque, I was approached by Zita, the fallen queen of the school. Her father had run out on her family in the eight grade, taking with him all of their savings. Having a bankrupt family has a horribly effect on your popularity, I guess, because by the next year, she was so far down on the totem pole that Gretchen had become her new best friend. However, this was still more popular than I was, which made me wonder why she was wanting to be seen with me.

However, I kept my curiosity to myself, and focused on my sandwich, acknowledging her presence only with a raised eyebrow as she sat down across from me.

"Hi, Dib." She greeted, her voice breathy. Ok, so that caught my attention, a bit. I raised my head from my plate to look at the girl.

"Um…hi, Zita. What do you want?"

"Want?" she feigned shock, raising a hand to her chest, causing my eyes to focus there. My mind and my body waged an internal war as I tried to raise my gaze. She may have become unpopular within the past few years, but her social status had done nothing to diminish her…assets, "Why do you automatically assume that I want something? I was just trying to be nice and say hi. You just looked so lonely here, sitting all by yourself."

I raised my eyes from her chest to give her a skeptical glare. "Zita, I sit here, by myself, every day, and you know it, so cut to the chase. What do you want? Who put you up to talking to the 'crazy kid'?"

Her mask fell, and she frowned, slightly, "Alright, Shelia did. She dared me to come over and speak to you, saying that I could sit with them for the rest of the week if I did."

"Which would be a rather large boost to your popularity level."

"Exactly."

"Dear god, you're an idiot." Wait, what was that? I hadn't meant to say that out loud. The familiar tingle in my head was growing stronger. Shit.

"Excuse me?" the girl across from me asked, an indignant expression on her pretty face.

"Yes, Dib, excuse you?" the voice mocked, chuckling.

"Not now!" I muttered, under my breath.

"Yes, now, Dib, who the hell do you think you are, calling me an idiot?"

"I think that I'm someone who knows idiocy, having been surrounded by it for the last 15 years," my mouth answered of its own accord.

Zita's face was turning red with anger, her entire body shaking as she tried to think of a come back, "Oh yeah? Well…well you're crazy, Dib! We all know that you killed that Zim kid, just like you tried to kill Torque!"

Wait, what?

"What the hell are you talking about, Zita? I didn't kill, Zim!"

"Bullshit, Dib," Zita spat, her voice raising, catching the attention of the rest of the lunch room, "how else would explain him just disappearing one day? What, did he fly off to his home planet or something?"

"Yes!"

"Right," she scoffed, "you two were always at each other's throats! You hated him, so who's to say you didn't stab him to death like you tried to do Torque?"

I clutched my fists at my sides, using all of my will power to keep my temper under control; to ignore the taunting voice in my head, "That's different. I never tried to kill Torque. It was an accident."

"Oh yeah, jamming a pencil into his gut was real accidental."

We were both on our feet, now, only a table's width apart. "I suggest you stop talking, now, Zita, and walk away. I don't know how much longer I can keep the voice in check." I stated, spitting the words through my teeth.

"Voice?" Zita laughed, "You're hearing voices, now, Dib?"

"She's so pretty on the outside, isn't see? Haven't you ever wondered what her insides look like?"

"Shut up!" I shouted, both to the voice and the purple haired girl.

"Do they tell you to do things, Dib? Do they tell you to kill people?"

"Oh, if only you knew, little girl. Of course it would help if my little slave would follow orders for once…"

"Stop talking!" My hands were gripping the tabletop for dear life as I tried to keep them from grabbing the nearest sharp object and gouging out Zita's brain, right before doing the same to myself.

"You know, now that I think about it, wasn't your mother murdered?"

"Uh oh. Are you gonna let her bring up your mama like that?"

"They never did find her killer, did they? I wonder if it was really…nah. You're not that crazy that you killed your own mother, are you?"

That was it. The final straw. My body failed to be my own as I felt my hands latch onto my lunch tray, swinging it up and across to slam it into the side of Zita's head. She looked dazed for a minute as the blood began to trickle from her ear and I took the opportunity to repeat the motion, this time from the other side, knocking her to the ground. The lunch room was silent as I hit her, again and again, the only sound being the wet smacking of fiberglass on bone.

The strange silence continued until I rose from my position, my face and hands splattered with blood. Zita let out a weak moan and somehow that was the catalyst for chaos. It seemed as everyone realized what exactly was going on at once, and then moved as a herd, all barreling for the exits, trampling over one another to get away from the crazy kid with the lunch tray.

I could feel the voice grinning insanely as I stood there, amongst the rushing crowd, Zita's blood dripping off my hands, relishing the feeling of power, of control that was running through me.

"You see?" the voice asked, "you see the power that I'm bestowing on you? The power to fight back—to take control of your life. You like it, don't you?"

"Yes." I whispered, turning my hands around over and over again in front of my face, marveling at the contrast of red on white. Beating Zita had done nothing to lower the blindingly hot rage that was inside of me, however. I needed something else. Something more.

My lunch tray in hand, I dove into the sea of bodies that were trying to escape. I swung wildly, each thrust meeting its target dead on, the sound resonating in my ears like music.

"You used to call me crazy in elementary school!" I informed one blond cheerleader.

"You stole my lunch money every day!" I enlightened a jock.

"You laugh at those who read only to cover up your own illiteracy!" I shouted as my tray connected with someone else's face.

One after the other, I made my way though the crowd, laughing along with the voice as I spilled the blood of my class mates. Finally the cafeteria was empty, aside from those I had injured, the only sound being their pained moans. Dropping the tray, I slapped my hands together as if brushing away dirt and exited the room, stepping over bodies as I went. Down the hall I went, past the classrooms, and out the front door. I didn't meet a single person on my way out.

-

Gaz was home when I got there. She had called in sick, that day, in order to play the new video game she had just bought. Her eyes met mine from the couch as I walked in the door and she dropped her controller in shock at my appearance.

"That blood isn't yours, is it?" She asked, deadpan, though her eyes were filled with fear.

I gave her a grin that I know made me look even more insane. I didn't care. I loved that look in her eyes; that frightened deer in the headlights look. This was going to be fun.

"Not all of it." I stated, taking a step towards her. She jumped to her feet, backing away from me, slowly, as I approached.

"I think that we need to call, Dad, Dib. Something is wrong with you."

I laughed, an empty, insane laugh that bounced off of the walls of the living room, "Oh, no, Gaz. Everything is perfectly all right. In fact, I feel better than I have in my entire life!"

She held her hands up in front of her, warding me off, "No, really, Dib. You need help, you need to talk to someone. A doctor or something." She stumbled a bit as her feet got caught on a fold in the rug.

Glancing at the coffee table, I noticed a sliced apple, a knife beside it. I stooped down to pick it up, testing its weight in my hand.

"Really? Do I need to talk to someone, Gaz?"

"Look, Dib, I—"

"Funny, I thought that I've been talking my entire life. To you, actually. Don't you remember?" I slid the knife into the pocket of my trench coat.

"Yeah, but—" She was running out of room to retreat, the wall was dangerously close. I almost had her in a corner. That thought made my smile widen.

"But you never listened, right? Always too busy playing your video game to listen to the ramblings of your poor, stupid, insane brother, right?"

"Dib—" She was against the wall, now, her eyes widening in horror as she felt it's pressure against her back. I closed in, standing inches away from her, my eyes boring into hers.

"Right?" I whispered, malice dripping off of the syllable.

In that moment, she chose to bolt, her eyes betraying her movement as she glanced the direction she was going to run. Years of fighting hand to hand with Zim had taught me well, and I met her movement head on with my fist making contact with her face.

She was thrown backwards from the force, her hands moving automatically to cradle her most likely broken nose.

"Doesn't feel so good, does it, Gazzy?" I laughed as I punched her again, this time in the stomach, doubling her over my fist, "Doesn't feel that great to be hit, does it?"

She recovered and righted herself, swinging wildly at me with one arm as the other still cradled her nose. I dodged it easily, causing her to spin around with her own unmet force, and I kicked her in the back, aiming for her kidney as she had so many times before, knocking her to the ground.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," I stated, grabbing her roughly by the shoulder, and turning her onto her back. I straddled her, my knees pinning her arms to keep her in place, "you're a girl! I can't hit you! I can only leave myself open to take it, right?" I felt her continue to squirm beneath me and positioned one of my feet over her legs, pinning them down as well. "Well, I think that, based on aggravated circumstances, we need to make a little amendment to that rule."

I pulled the knife from my pocket, watching as her eyes widened in horror and she began to scream in time to her thrashing. "You see, I don't think that rule should count if the female in question is a bitch." I rationalized, holding the blade of the knife over her head. "And you, Gaz," I brought the blade down, slowly, slicing into the thin skin of her forehead, "are," I carved a line, two ragged triangles attached to it. B. "possibly," another line, I. "the biggest," T. "bitch," C. "I know." Three more lines carved in blood above my sister's eyes. H.

I leaned down close to her, my mouth an inch or two from hers, my eyes burning holes, reflecting all of the hate I had ever seen in hers, "And now, everyone will know."

She had become quiet as I was cutting, biting her lip till it bed, tears leaking from her eyes. Trying to be strong, but now that illusion crumbled. Now she screamed.

I rocked back on my heels, digging into her legs, laughing as she realized the extent of the damage I had done to her.

The voice took this time to add its two cents, "Now, Dib, finish her."

"What?" My laughter cut off abruptly as I tried to understand the voice's meaning.

"This power that I've given you has just been for a trial. Now you must pay for the entire package. Pay me with her blood, Dib. Finish her."

I was horrified. Giving the people that plagued my world what they deserved was one thing, but killing my sister? "What? No! I'm not going to kill her!"

"Ingrate! Fool! You belong to me, now! Do as I command! Remember the bullshit this pathetic creature has put you through! Remember the torment and the pain! Remember your hatred!"

I turned my head, looking at my sister's small face beneath me. She had grown pale from fear and blood loss, her eyes seeming too large for her face. I felt the hot anger bubbling inside of me, growing as I thought about how much pain this small creature had cast upon me, how I had been her punching bag to work out her anger at our mother's murder and the world in general. How every attempt I had ever made at sibling bonding had been met with scoffing ridicule.

My hand gripped the knife, my knuckles white on the hilt. Feeling hatred coursing through my veins, I rose it high above my head, the point directly over my sister's heart.

"Yes!" the voice shouted, "Yes!"

Gaz's eyes reflected only painful understanding as she closed them and turned her head, one tear escaping from her lashes, tracing a pale line in the red that painted her skin.

"That's it, my child! You know what you must do! Give her what she deserves! Give me her blood!"

My hands holding the knife trembled as my mind made its decision. I brought it down, swiftly, in a solid arch—into my own stomach.

"NO!" the voice cried.

The pain was unbearable as I ripped the blade from my abdomen. "I am not your slave!" I shouted, plunging the knife back into my skin, "I am not your slave!"

The world was spinning behind my closed eyes as I stabbed myself again and again, repeating my expression of freedom over and over again like a mantra, shouting it loud enough to cover the screaming of the voice inside of my mind.

I felt myself grow weaker and collapse, my mind becoming distant from my body, distant from the pain. I felt small hands pressing against my wounds as my consciousness faded in and out. A voice was shouting that her brother was hurt, and she needed an ambulance quickly. I felt a smile form on my lips as the blackness took over.

-

"And then I woke up, here, in the hospital." I shrugged, and munched on one of the doctor's complimentary pretzel sticks, "after it was determined I wouldn't die, they started making me come down here for you to pick over my brain. So what do you think, doc? Am I crazy?"

Dr. V rubbed his eyes under his glasses, "That depends, Dib. The question is not 'are you crazy' but 'did you learn anything'?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Why couldn't you go through with it, Dib? Why didn't you kill your sister? Why didn't you let the rage and hatred take over?"

"Because…" I trailed off, at loss for an answer, "Because it was just…wrong. She's my sister! I couldn't just kill her. Something inside of me…something was just not allowing me to do it." I shook my head, "That doesn't make sense, does it?"

Dr. V smiled, "No, it makes perfect sense, Dib. You have a conscience. You're not crazy. Mislead, perhaps, abused defiantly, but not crazy. Human is more like it."

"Wait, so that's it? I almost killed all those people, and I'm just going to get off cos I'm human?"

He shook his head, "No, you're not getting off, Dib. At least this version of you isn't This version is going to get the therapy and legal correction he needs. You, however, you can go. You've made it."

"What? You're talking in riddles, man?"

"Am I?" he asked, standing and raising a hand, "I'm not going to be allowed to help you, anymore, Dib. The next few tests aren't under my control. The Powers That Be aren't too happy with me, anyhow. But I'll be leaving you in good hands. You'll meet your new Guide in a few moments."

I was on my feet, "Dr. V, I—"

He raised a hand, silencing me, and snapped before I could say anything else.

I felt myself falling as the world turned black.

-

A/n: Oh dear god, I'm glad that's done. I'm so sorry this took so long to get up, but Real Life wasn't letting me get a word in edgewise, lately.

References: There's really only one reference in here that isn't blatantly from JTHM. Yup.

At this point in time there are 36 reviews to this story. There are the same amount for FPL. The fact that I've gotten the same amount of response here in four chapters that I did there in fourTEEN makes me grin like a mad woman. Thank you guys oh so much. You are all awesome. Hello and thank you, also to the new reviewers that I've had.

By the way, The Fic Lord? What is your obsession with NWO?

Oh yeah, and in response to the comments that there is the whole Gaz in trouble/Dib makes good decision and saves her/ passes test pattern…that kinda ends with this chapter. These first few tests have been focusing on his relationship with her. The next ones will deal with the way he relates to Zim and himself. Though the pattern of life or death situations will continue for the most part, if only because that's where a split second decision makes all the difference, which is the nature of the Tests—to test his first response, because that is the Truest.

Hey, Dibsthe1—satisfied?

But I'm gonna stop rambling here, and post this so I can jump in the shower and get ready for my show, tonight. (Wish me luck! )

As usual, R and R, people. It makes all this brain vomit worth it.

-j

Ps.—159 pages, now. Holy crap.