Irony Is A Fucked Up Mistress | By : RuShin Category: Comics > Johnny the Homicidal Maniac Views: 1608 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Chapter Three- Root Beer and a Murder Scene
The smell of blood permeated the room, the little over hanging fan wobbling and feebly spinning on its broken base trying to stave off the late summer heat. Magenta eyes watched as blood oozed slowly off of one the blades, thick and sticky like jelly. The murder scene was getting old if the blood had already congealed this much.
He hesitated before entering, glancing down at the blood soaked carpet. The few clean spots were a light pink. The victim had been a little girl then. He stepped into the room, black, skull decorated shoes making a disgusting squishy noise as he put his weight down. He lifted his foot, a few strings of sticky reddish-brown substance still clinging to the soles of his shoes. He wrinkled the area where a nose should have been, had he been human, in disgust.
He was of a war faring race, but no creature he had fought and killed had ever excreted this much blood. Inferior human bodies. He rubbed his green hands together. It had been a few hours since his last bottle. He was getting a little shaky.
After listlessly examining a few blood stained teddy bears, he adjusted his pant decorations (Which, was not a skirt, thank you very much.) and decided to wander over to his dark haired companion. Standing on his tip-toes he tried to peer over the other’s shoulder, “Find anything interesting, Dib-stink?”
The taller being turned around to stare down at the little alien. "Be careful, Zim! We can't afford to mess up any of the evidence!" He didn't mean to snap at the Irken. He was just feeling really uncomfortable surrounded by so much blood. He knew there was a reason he never entered medical school, besides the fact that his passion was paranormal studies.
Dib Membrane was the most well known Paranormal Detective in the world. After finally exposing Zim, there was no stopping him. He remembered the incident like it was just yesterday. They wanted to take Zim away and dissect him, but Dib wouldn't have it. Zim was his alien, and no one was going to harm him.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you, but you do need to be careful," he apologized, subconsciously running a long pale finger over the scar across his left eye.
He gave an indignant huff, his antennae lowering in agitation. “Zim is no fool. I won’t touch any of your worm-baby juice covered evidence.” He crossed his arms in a feminine manner and glared at the opposite wall. He glanced back at the bespectacled man; his only acknowledgment of the apology was a nod of his head.
He watched as the other traced the old battle wound, and slowly lifted his own gloved fingers to follow lightly behind the pale fingers of his partner. He doubted Dib knew that he rubbed at the scar when he was nervous. Zim found it…comforting. He knew that when Dib traced that flawed skin that he was thinking of him. It reminded him that Dib had risked his own life to save him. It reminded him that Dib’s heart was his and his alone. He supposed he could forgive a few snappish remarks now and then.
He stood on his tip-toes once more, flicking his long worm-like tongue over the end of the scar just underneath the man’s glasses. At twenty-four, Dib had grown quite tall. “Calm your nerves, Dib-beast. The red liquid is nothing more than that now. What it came from is of no concern. Your primary worry is to find some clues. Let Zim help.” He ducked under the other’s arm and settled at his side, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he looked down at a bloody mass of bed sheets.
Dib grinned as his cheek was licked, his golden-brown eyes squinting with his smile. Every time Zim stuck out that long, thin, freak-alien tongue, Dib had the urge to flick it or pull on it or touch it in some way. It just intrigued him somehow. Like a cat would a piece of string hanging tauntingly over its head.
He smirked to himself as he watched Zim ponder on the massacre that used to be a child's bedroom. Dib had never been happier to have the alien as a companion nowadays. He stroked one of the alien's antennae, a simple gesture that had become a custom between them, before moving over to the bedside. "It's obvious this is no ordinary murder. Blood splatters show that whatever killed the girl came from the closet and from under the bed. Tell me, Zim. Have you ever heard of the Boogie Man?"
Zim hummed with pleasure as the other petted his antennae, and quickly followed after towards the bed. His antennae pricked forward with interest. “The Boogie Man?” He scoured his mind for the information. “I think GIR. was watching a movie with a giant, jiggly green monster filled with bugs once. The monster was call “Oogie Boogie.” He tapped his chin. “And I believe there is another movie involving “boggarts” which had no form of there own and merely fed off of someone's fear…and the neighbor-lady told that disgusting little worm-baby of hers that the Boogie Man would get him if he wasn’t good.”
He looked around the room, and then peeked under the bed. “Was this child not listening to its parental unit so it got eaten as punishment?”
"You're very perceptive, but I doubt the child was misbehaving bad enough to be...slaughtered." He shuttered.
He grabbed Zim's hand and led him to the far end of the room while explaining, "The Boogie Man is a common Earth folklore. Some parents tell their children that the Boogie Man will get them if they don't obey. The Boogie Man is said to hide under the bed, in the closet, and behind doors. No one really knows what it truly looks like, but the best paranormal investigators believe it to be a shape-shifter with no permanent form. The origin of such a thing is still unknown...not that's it been proven to exist in the first place."
"The reason I asked --" He turned around to face the entirety of the room, and pointed at the ceiling. "-- is because of that." Written on the ceiling in the child's blood were the words "Boogie Woogie Wu" in a scratchy, almost inhuman, script. Dib grimaced, "It's the same thing from the last three murders, all of which were children at the age of eleven or younger."
He peered up at the writing on the ceiling, making a face. “That’s disgusting. It’s not going to drip on us, is it?” He glanced down at his blood covered shoes. “Hm, never mind.” He really needed to start dressing appropriately for murder scenes.
He returned his attention to the ceiling, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, our murder-monkey goes by the alias “Boogie Woogie Wu”, which is in relation to the infamous “Boogie Man” that preys on small children and has no true form but merely shape shifts into what ever suits its purposes at that moment.” He blinked after his summary of their situation before frowning over at the dark haired man. “I’d say our chances of finding him are slimmer than a Slughous trapped in a ravine with the ravenous eight legged beast of Troubora.” He grinned. “But the mighty Zim has always enjoyed a challenge.”
Dib felt Zim's hand clench and unclench in his. He knew what that meant, poor Zim. His addiction was getting to him...Well, the next part of the research was discussion anyway, so why not take it elsewhere. He picked Zim up bridal style so none of the blood on the shoes would be spread throughout the house. He was unusually skilled at not getting any traces of blood on his own boots, and this was no exception. Zim often picked on him for it, mostly complaining on how he couldn't do the same.
"Come on. Let's go. I hope you have an extra pair of shoes at the apartment." He led the alien out of the blood covered room and out into the hallway leading to the den. They headed for the exit, where they found several irritated police investigators being held back by a little red-eyed robot, with several well-aimed laser guns holding the humans back. "That's okay, GIR. We're done in there."
The little mech turned around, eyes going back to their usual shade of turquoise as the weapons retracted back into its metal skull. "Okee Dokee!!!"
He wrapped his arms casually around the others neck, nuzzling into his chest with a scoff. “Zim? Not have extra shoes? Don’t be ridiculous Dib stink.” He frowned down at the spotless hallway floor. “You must teach Zim how you became so proficient at not leaving tracks. Was it all that spying you did as a big-headed worm-baby?” He asked curiously, giving the mentioned head a few pokes.
He glanced over at the little robot. “GIR.! You’re supposed to be watching the vehicle!”
The S.I.R. unit stuck it’s tongue out and grinned happily, his high pitched metallic voice grinding on Zim’s nerves. “Oh, I let the piggy do that.”
Zim’s eye twitched and he looked at Dib, then back to the robot. “What piggy?”
GIR’s head opened and out popped a rubber piggy. “This one!! Ooo…bad piggy, yous supposed t’ be in the car a wearin’ yous seat belt!”
Zim groaned and buried his face in Dib’s chest again. A muffled “You shoulda let them autopsy Zim.” was heard.
Dib chuckled at the comment, as he set Zim down on the pavement so they could enter the vehicle. It was a four seat silver sports car, but with some added extremities from Zim and himself. Hey, they weren't about to let their car be vulnerable. In fact, Dib had to turn off the force field so they could even get near it. He pulled out a strange black mechanism and pushed one of the buttons, a beep from the car letting them know they could near it.
As they took their seats, GIR and his piggy bouncing around in the back, Dib started the car and turned to Zim. "We need to get back to the police station and talk with the Chief...Buuut I really need a smoke after seeing all that blood, and I seem to be out. What would you say if we stopped at a 24/7 and got you some root beer while we're at it?"
He reached down and removed his shoes, tossing them into a spare bag in the glove compartment before settling into his seat. He stretched, propping his feet on the dash. He was wearing his pink and black striped sock today. Wriggling his toes he looked in the back seat. “GIR! Buckle your safety belt, you know the rules!” He didn’t bother with his own.
Making a face he looked at Dib. “The blue pig-smelly containment center smells like coffee and sour donuts.” His antennae pricked forward, and his body followed until he was mere inches from Dib’s face. “Zim can have his delicious sacred juice now?” His smile was like that of a child on Christmas.
"Well, you'll only have to deal with it for a little while. I have to get some records from the Chief on recent murders in the area." He couldn't help but grin as Zim got mere inches from his face in anticipation of finally having the "sacred juice" he so disparately desired. Dib gave the amusing little creature a small kiss on the forehead. "Yes, you can get some as soon as we get there."
And with that said, they drove off.
Authors' Notes:
Hullo! Just Ru today. I decided to update early since I wouldn't be here this weekend. (I'm turning 21! Whoo!)
So, Zim and Dib make their first appearance! AND you get your first glimpse at the true plot. ;P
Hope you all enjoy, and Happy Valentines day! ::heart::
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