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Into the Web	By : Florville Category: +G through L > Invader Zim > Crossover Views: 2436 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Invader Zim, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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CHAPTER TWO

The police station was a horrible place to be. Not because it was busy, but because it was a den of utter ignorance, the kind of stupidity that Dib had despised since childhood.

He sighed, stirring his coffee with the end of his pencil and then licking it clean, picking up the mug and taking a long pull, then setting it down and making a face. The coffee here tasted like shit, too…

As he ran through the profiles of the countless victims, their bios and autopsy reports spread out like a scattered deck of cards in front of him, Dib sighed, closing his eyes for a long moment. There had to be some kind of common denominator. It wasn’t just random killing. It couldn’t be. From what he’d recovered of that knapsack and its contents, it was more than obvious that the killer was at least somewhat intelligent.

Dib was almost looking forward to catching him, if only for some decent conversation in the squad car.

The thought made him chuckle softly.

Beneath the buzz of inane chatter around him, Dib was listening to something specific. He had wired his cellphone earpiece to pick up the incoming 9-1-1 calls going through dispatch without alerting them to the fact that he was listening in. Pressing different numbers on the keypad, he started eavesdropping on the calls one at a time.

“…and she’s got a bug up her nose!! Ohmygod, she’s dying!! Get someone out here now…”

“…stole like two hundred bucks worth of cheese…”

“Radio, this is Unit four, we’ve got a code 5 here, you’re gonna need to send the Coroner. Oh, and uh, get one who isn’t squeamish like the last one was, okay? I hate it when people puke.”

“10-4, Unit four, I’ll call the Coroner right away. What’s your 20?”

“We’re at the West Avenue Mall. Victim looks like he was in his late forties…from what’s left of him, anyway.”

Dib frowned, sitting up and grabbing his briefcase, pulling his trenchcoat around his slim frame as he walked out of HQ and climbed into his car, setting his sights on the mall.

*

“Are we ID-ing him from the dental records?” Dib looked down at the remnants of what might once have been a middle-aged man.

”We can’t do dental records, he doesn’t have all his teeth. Some got knocked out, it looks like.”

Dib blinked at the cop, taking his glasses off for a moment and squinting at him before sliding them back on. “I’m sorry, did you just imply that you can’t walk around the scene and gather the rest of his teeth so you can identify the fucking body??”

“Uh…well I…” the officer rubbed the back of his neck, then nodded. “I…I can do that, yeah.”

As the man darted off and began to gather teeth from the blood-soaked pavement, Dib put his head in his hands. “Monkeys. I’m working…with monkeys.” Tilting his head slightly, Dib frowned, taking another look at the victim and feeling his stomach turn.

“Hang on…” He shuddered. Now it made sense. He’d been wondering why this guy would’ve come alone into a dark alley between a mall and a strip joint.

“Huh?”

Dib knelt down and pulled out a small kit, setting an ink pad and a strip of paper down on the ground. Pulling on a pair of rubber gloves, he walked over to where a severed hand had been outlined on the ground, picking it up and walking back over to the ink pad and paper.

“Hey, hey, you can’t just pick that up and play with it, that’s evidence!!” One of the older officers barked at him.

Dib quirked a brow at him, then knelt down and used the severed hand to press out a set of fingerprints before wiping the digits clean and tucking the hand into the body bag with the rest of the man. Pulling his rubber gloves off, Dib put the strip and the ink pad back into the kit and slid it into his pocket again before rising to his feet, reaching into his inside pocket and pulling out his I.D. badge as he walked over to the cop that had shouted at him.

“Here, I want you to do something for me.” He said, shoving his badge in the cop’s face. “You see those three gold capital letters? I want you to read them out loud for me. Can you do that?”

“F.B.I.” he snapped.

Pocketing the badge, Dib stepped into the officer’s personal space, towering over him by about a foot or so. Guess he could thank his dad for the height. Probably the only thing he could thank the neglectful bastard for, anyway…

“Very good, but I didn’t bring my treats. FBI. D’you know what that means?”

“Of course I do.” The officer, while still peevish, was beginning to look a little uncomfortable.

“No…I don’t think you do, so I’ll tell you. It means that I outrank you, butterball. And as such, you are not going to raise your voice at me, or try and tell me how to conduct this investigation, or I’ll go back to the Bureau and make sure every penny of funding that’s going towards your precinct is cut. Do I make myself clear?”

The cop blinked at him, then shifted nervously, nodding. “Uh…yeah. Sir.”

Returning to his car, which was parked near the end of the alleyway, Dib opened the passenger side door and sat down, pulling his laptop out and running the strip of paper with the victim’s fingerprints through a special slot.

That body…the build and what was left of the guy’s face gave him a horrible feeling inside. That horrible nauseous feeling that came with recognition.

As the computer pulled up the profile that matched the prints, Dib slammed the laptop screen down and rose to his feet, leaning back against the car as he shut the passenger side door behind him, putting a hand over his mouth. He couldn’t let this shit get to him, he was a Federal Agent. He couldn’t let things like this get under his skin…

“You all right, Sir?” One of the younger cops ventured, lowering his clipboard. “Sir?”

Dib waved a hand for him to lay off for a moment, taking a deep breath and then exhaling slowly. “Yeah…” he mumbled, lowering his hand. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about identifying the body, though. It was Henry Walscott, a convicted pedophile. He must’ve brought a kid back here and bumped into our suspect.”

The young officer blinked at him, then scribbled something down on the clipboard before lifting his head again, his expression worried. “But…why didn’t the killer snuff the kid too?”

His head jerked up, and Dib’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What?”

Taking a step back, the officer cleared his throat nervously. “The…the killer…why didn’t he kill the kid too, if this guy brought a kid back here with him?”

Dib blinked at him, then his brow furrowed. “I don’t know. But that’s a very good question.”

*

Cradling the phone against one shoulder, Dib frowned as he ran through the pile of victim bios. “I need the mall surveillance tapes, especially the ones for the southern end of the complex…yeah. It’s in connection with a case. I’ll stop by and grab them tomorrow, so make sure to have them ready.”

Dib hung up the phone, pulling off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. He still felt sick…that image, that ripped-open face and bloated body…

The young Federal Agent pulled back from his desk, grabbing the garbage can and leaning over it as the mind fuck he was going through expressed itself physically.

Sighing, he wiped the back of his wrist across his mouth, making a face. They might not get the killer on the mall surveillance…but if Walscott had grabbed a child, they’d be able to see who the kid was.

And at least then, for the first time since the case was opened, they’d have a witness.
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