Work Text:
Trubel in Seattle
An IZombie/Grimm crossover.
Chapter 1
In the beginning...
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Liv Moore was nearly out of her mind, craving brains, when she sawed into the skull of the corpse laying on the medical examiner's table. The morgue's fluorescent lamps softly hummed as her fingers dug in and shoveled mouthful after sweet mouthful, gulping and slurping the most succulent manna Heaven had ever wrought.
The application process for Assistant Medical Examiner at the Seattle Morgue wasn't difficult, except that she was running on fumes and could barely see straight. She had squeaked through on a half dozen rat brains. Tinny, greasy, swollen blobs that expanded in her mouth into sticky, bitter cotton with every bite. She was none too proud of that, but desperate times, and all.
She was hunched over the body, licking brain out of the woman's cranial cavity when a man's voice echoed, Don't stop on my account. You look like you've had a rough day.
She shot bolt upright. It's not what it looks like.
It's fine. Trust me. She's already dead, and you look like you need it more than she does.
She gasped as her body turned, landing her face to face with a dark haired man dressed in an olive Henley shirt, a bomber jacket, and bluejeans...
And he was wearing a badge.
Startled, she twisted her head and transformed. Her body sheeted with fine, white fur. Purple veins covered her white face as it rounded into a red-eyed feline form, shrouded by a bobbed, white mane. Sharp fangs poked past her lips, white claws slid out of her fingertips, and she froze.
Black eyes? Black eyes! A Grimm!
Her vision closed into a tunnel focused on her own zombified Lowen reflection floating in the soulless, black abyss of his eyes. Her adrenaline shot off, screaming into overdrive and she bolted for the back door. A Grimm! No! No! No! He's going to hack your head off!
Calm down. It's OK. I'm not here to hurt you.
She gasped when she realized she was still standing in front of the man. Her feet were solidly planted and her adrenaline was crashing as her Lowen form retracted back into her petite, blonde haired, mostly human form. What the hell?
She gritted her teeth and twisted her head again, sheeting her body with fine white fur. Fangs poked out of her mouth and her claws slid out. Her Lowen form retracted back into her human form like being slammed in the chest by a concrete block. She let out a gasp and rubbed her aching jaws while he unrolled paper towels and ran them under the sink.
Calm down. You're in a police station morgue. This place is full of normal Kehrsite cops. I doubt your boss knows you are Lowen, much less a zombie.
I swear I didn't do anything! Please don't kill me.
He held out a wad of wet paper towels. You have a little something something on your face. You might want to get that before your boss comes back. I won't tell if you don't.
Her eyes strained as her hand stretched out and grasped them. She grunted and gritted her teeth as her hands scrubbed the sticky residue off of her face. What the hell! Are you doing this?
You're welcome. You really want these cops to see you like this. Eating brains straight out of a skull? Woging in public? Guess what happens when they see a monster. They've got guns and have seen the same zombie movies you have. You can't do that stuff when people are looking.
How do you know about this? About me?
It wasn't difficult to put the pieces together... Dr. Olivia Moore, type A hotshot overachiever. The hard charging resident finishing up her last 3 months residency... Typical Lowen, like your mother and brother... Went to the boat party. Divers dragged you off the bottom of the lake eighteen hours later, then you spent another twelve hours in a body bag. Your mother was on the way to identify your body when you magically turned up alive. Now, you're eating brains in the morgue on your first day on the job..
And you're here to finish the job?
Let's say I'm a friend with a common interest.
She quirked her eyebrow.
He huffed, gritted his teeth, and squinted. His skin turned sallow gray streaked with purple veins. His slate gray eyes turned red and sunk deep into his skull, but his short cropped black hair stayed the same. Ta da!
He relaxed. The veins disappeared, color returned to his face, and his eyes returned to their clear, slate gray.
You too? Really?
Yes. Ok, you seem pretty new at this. The brains are going to kick in any minute and your personality will change. Can you talk with your mouth? Most zombies have trouble with that, at first.
I totally am.
Look at my mouth. Do you see it moving?
He slid a makeup mirror into her fingers.
"Try using your mouth."
Wait? How? Are you talking to me, like in my mind? That's, like, so weird.
"Focus and use your mouth. Look at the mirror and practice moving your mouth. It's probably OK, now that you have some brains."
"Pshaw! What-ever."
"Good, your mouth works. You are going to start seeing visions. This girl got herself killed, and the visions will probably have to do with her life and death. I recommend you connect with a detective here. You'll have to make up some sort of story. I don't know, tell him you are a psychic, or something."
She pushed one hand into her hip and wagged her finger at him. "I totally don't believe in that psychic mumbo-jumbo. I'm like a real medical doctor."
"Up to you. Do you have any sexual partners? Husband, wife, boyfriend, girlfriend, lover?"
"That's like none of your business."
"Most forms of zombie infection are extremely contagious, including sexual transmission, so zero sex. You need to break it off till you are cured."
"But I love him. He's like absolutely perfect and we're getting married in three months."
"Do you want him to be running around, cracking skulls open for brains, or shot by cops before you get cured?"
She blinked and frowned.
"Sorry, I didn't introduce myself. Nick Burkhardt. Portland PD. I'm here investigating a boat party a few days ago that went violent. Know anything about it?"
"This is totally, like, not your jurisdiction."
"Or, I can do this as a Grimm, I got my axe in the car... If that doesn't work, I've got this Hexenbiest friend..."
"I'll scream."
No, you won't.
Her eyes twitched as her jaws locked shut. Nausea cramped the pit of her stomach and tremors washed over her. "That's like, way lame. Ok, so, I was, like, totally there."
"Do you remember anything?"
She walked him through the incident, drowning, then waking up in a body bag, craving brains.
"Do you know if there are any other zombies? Where I might find them?"
She flapped her hand and shifted side to side. "Nah, No way."
"If you can think of anything, please give me a call."
He held out a card, but she stood there, arms crossed. He winked and her arm extended. Her hand took the card and slid it into the pocket of her lab coat. "Did you seriously just do that? I mean, it's so totally freaky."
"We worked out a cure, down in Portland, about three years ago. I was infected, myself. We have had a few minor outbreaks since then, but we've been able to get them all cured without killing the people who were infected. This may be a different strain. We need you to come down for some tests. We can help get you some resources and support as well."
"I don't want to be rude, but if you hadn't noticed, your cure is, like, totally lame."
"Ah, yeah, me. There were some... side effects... because I'm a Grimm. About one hundred fifty Kehrsite and Wesen have been cured just fine. OK, well, Assistant Medical Examiner, Dr. Olivia Moore, it was a pleasure meeting you. Come on down to Portland and look me up when you are ready for that cure. Give me a call if you need any help. Oh, and you may need this."
He slid a bottle of hot sauce out of his jacket and laid it on her desk, next to the stapler. With that, he turned on his heels and marched out.
Tremors shuddered across her body as she broke out into a cold sweat. Her stomach rolled and she folded, slumping into the metal desk chair. Her hands shook as she slid her fingers into her pocket and pitched the card straight into the trash can. She rummaged through the drawers, praying for the salvation of liquor.
The sing-songy nursery rhyme her mother taught her came humming past her lips, as her body rocked in the seat and tears ran down her cheeks.
When you see,
Black eyes shining at thee,
Run child run,
For death has come.
A Grimm? Here? And he can somehow control you? She pressed her hand into her lips as a dozen cramps clenched her stomach.
The steel lockers and metal tables spun as Liv grabbed a trash can and vomited.
The scent of brains filled her nostrils and she reached into the trash can. Her hand came up, brimming with once-eaten mush, mixed with black and brown grit.
No! Do not! That's vomit! It's trash! Now it's full of coffee grinds, floor sweepings, chewing tobacco spit.
Her stomach growled as the scent of heaven wafted into her nostrils. Her mouth drew open and a soft snarl rumbled out. My God! Have you no shame?
Her eyes drifted to the Grimm's hot sauce. Small batch, organic, Carolina Reaper, Ghost pepper, and Capsaicin extract, extra-hot, skull and cross bones, with a dozen ominous warning labels . This has got to be some sort of poison. He wouldn't have left condiments, so let's just get this over with.
She spun the top off and sloshed a couple swigs into her mouth. She grimaced, expecting anaphylactic shock, but instead was rewarded with a mouth full of sweet, savory, smoky...
Flavor!
Her eyes glittered and she slathered it all over her handful of dirty slush. She shoveled it into her mouth, swallowing without chewing, washing it down with more hot sauce, then smacking and licking it off her fingers.
Mmmm! Ok, wait! Brains with this Grimm hot sauce is the absolute the best thing I've ever eaten...
She scooped another handful and shoved the gooey chunks into her mouth, then shook hot sauce on top as a chaser. Soon, she finished licking the dregs out of the trash can, and picked half a dozen staples and a paperclip out of her teeth. Her eyes drifted closed. Satiated euphoria filled her body to the very depths of her soul.
"Mmmm! Brains."