Invader Scorned: Enter the Faktrix

Chapter 3: “Enter the Fake-trix”

Fresh from another action-packed walk, the Membranes kids walked through the gleaming automated doors of Hi-Skool into the Lobby.

For some bizarre reason, the architect had decided that the most important concept for a building of higher learning wasn't an efficient use of space or additional security in case of a teenage riot. Ooh no! All that mattered was that the Hi-Skool look “cool”. Mega-cool. And the only way to do that was to use large amounts of glass, chrome, plastic, and concrete in a mad exhibit of post-Modernist arty-ness.

As Dib trudged up one of two open staircases that swept to either side of the massive in-door waterfall, he gloomily noted how even the students seemed to blend into the overall dor of the halls, becoming merely animated pieces of brightly hued furniture. He knew only three people stood out from this general display of hip-kid coolness: Gaz, who had kept her perpetual Goth-gone-demonic look since sixth grade; himself, because Dib couldn't bear life without his beloved trench-coats; and... Zim.

If Gaz and Dib had remained untouched by the fickle hand of fashion, then the strange green “boy” must've been totally oblivious to it's concept.

Not that Dib had paid attention to Zim lately, but anyone would've noticed that after four years on this planet the only visible change was that the alien had grown roughly a foot to the none too impressive height of five feet. Zim still wore that hideous magenta dress-shirt-thing, the boots, the 3-fingered gloves, those stupid contacts, and that painfully fake wig. He walked with the same imperious strut, talked with the same clipped babble, ranted with the same shrieking screams, laughed the same crazed laugh...

“And,” Dib thought as he popped open his sleek locker. “He plans the same stupid plans.”

He recalled Zim's latest plot for conquest. The little jerk must be ripping off late-night cable again because his “brilliant” idea was to sending out a video that would turn everyone who watched it into SPAM-craving vampires. Of course, the fool hadn't realized that most people had already seen another movie just like that and weren't interested in anything called The SPAM. So, except for a few die-hard B-movie addicts, Zim's plans had been foiled yet again by his own incompetence. It still made Dib chuckle.

He didn't really enjoy watching his former enemy fail over and over again anymore. It was more like watching a really bad cartoon. Every time Zim tried to unleash DOOM upon Earth, some zany thing would happen and everything would blow up in his face with dramatic results. Looking back, Dib was amazed that he had ever taken that moron seriously in the first place. He often wondered whether he should gloat in triumphant while rubbing it in Zim's face or feel sorry for the little creep.

Still ruminating on how to reconcile his hollow victory, Dib failed to hear the sudden gasp from the crowd. He didn't notice the murmuring nor the sound of a boots marching toward him. So caught up in his thoughts was Dib that he even missed Gaz's brief expression of surprise when she saw who was looming (well, trying to loom) behind him.

“Dib.”

He turned slowly, feeling a strange thrill at the sound of that voice. “Oh, hi Z--What the hell?!”

Sneering smugly, Zim stood there poised in an arms-crossed stance of villainy conceit. That would've be normal except for the fact that, not only did he have on a set of clearly alien red/black body-armor over his uniform, but also was without his disguise. In public.

Dib gaped in shock. Four freaking years ago, he'd have been pee-ed himself from joy to have Zim so exposed. With an audience of hundreds to boot! Four years ago, he would`ve killed for this chance!

Now he could hear the whispered questions and see the strange looks. All he had to do was say “See?! I told you all that he was an ALIEN! Now you have to BELIEVE ME!” and the invader's guts would be spread out over an autopsy table come dinnertime. Of course, it'd contradict all the stuff he'd said over the past year, yet Dib had a funny feeling that nobody'd really care as long as he said it was true. Call it the “expert paradox.” Besides, maybe after he exposed Zim for the otherworldly beast that he was, Dib would be free at last from feeling as if his life was pointless. All he had to do was say that...

“I see my AWESOME power has left you speechless, earth-monkey.” Zim gloated, oblivious to the crowd that had gathered. “If you got an ass, I'll kick it!”

On second thought, maybe it'd be better if Dib just fix his angst with some Happy-Pills.

“Just face it. I rock. And roll. All night long. Sweet Suzy. Now we will learn who's the best!” With that, he struck a complicated kung-fu pose. “Take a close look. `Cause I rule, worm-baby!”

“And just who do you rule? The short, green-skinned people?” came the snaky reply.

Letting out a wild kiai of fury, the Irken sprang forward as he shot out a spider-claw toward Dib. To his surprise, the human deftly hopped up and landed on the claw.

“From here you here you can get an excellent view of my foot.” Dib quipped, smacking the alien in the face with a quick kick.

Reeling for a moment, Zim recovered and struck a cocky pose. “Face to foot style, how do you like it?”

Dib sighed. “I'm sure on some planet your style is truly impressive, but you weak link is: This is Earth.”

“Oh yeah?” sneered the little jerk. “Then try my crotch to your fist style!”

Zim had barely moved before he winced back after that extremely stupid, not to mention exceedingly painful, move.

“You want some advice? Direct for me to you: Quit while you're ahead.” Seized by a fit of mad laughter, he turned to the crowd. “Pay no attention to Zim. He's obviously off his meds again...and he's also an idiot.”

Zim started gibbering protests as the crowd began to disperse with mutters of “Weirdo” and “Freak”. Even Dib had turned away, still giggling in a very disturbed way.

“YOU DARE MOCK ZIM?!” screamed the alien, deploying he all spider legs and knocking over those kids that were too close to him. Suddenly, a nasty grin spread on his face as he hissed loudly. “Just gonna run away again, Dib?! Run away like, just like that cold-hearted bitch of a mother did, eh?”

Dib turned back around, his rictus smile twitching crazily.

“That's right, Dib!” Zim hissed, ignoring the warning signs that his enemy was about to go psycho-killer on him. “I know all about you're hideous maternal entity and how she fled from your equally repugnant family unit. And, honestly, if I had meet her at the very moment she discovered that her belly was soon to be swollen with you as hideously big-headed smeet, I'd have given her a coat-hanger and said `ABORT! ABORT!'!”

Gaz grinned in evil glee. “Ooh...bad idea.”

Roaring with Conan Anger the trench-coated one lunge at Zim in a flurry of blows. Though his opponent dodged and parried , Dib manage to land quite a few hits. He made quick work of either tear off or snapping all of Zim's spider leg, soon leaving the invader with no defense against his attacks. Then he began hurling a variety of the most brutal strikes and kicks ever made up in martial-arts. So pissed was Did that he threw a few in there that hadn't even been invented yet!

Under this onslaught, Zim staggered backwards into the railing. He glanced down at the thunderous water rushing mere inches away from him. Bloodied and panting, he silently praised all that was Irken when Dib stepped back, seemingly finished.

But he apparently wasn't satisfied with simply pummeling the alien into a greasy pulp. Dib just needed some room so he could get a running start.

The world went into slo-mo mode as Dib sprang into the air, executing a flawless Flying Jump Kick of HURT right to Zim's face. The sheer power of the HURT flipped the alien menace over the railing in an arch of blood, spit, and other viscous bodily fluids. As Zim's body tumbled through bullet-time toward the lethal pool of watery DOOM, Dib twisted in mid-air. He landed with a dramatic flourish of coat flapping on the floor just in time for a gargantuan surge of H2O PAIN to shoot up behind him.

[A/N: You know, I've always like that word...“gargantuan”... so rarely have an opportunity to use it in a sentence. (*).( )]

While Dib dust himself off, Space-Time took a moment to snap back to normal.

For a brief moment, there was a deafening silence. Then...

The crowd, who'd chosen to watch the ass-kicking rather than go to the class which had started 10 minutes ago, went wild with cheers. Somebody screamed “Dib ROCKS!” from amid the applause and smug comments about how stupid Zim had to be to pick a fight with “Da' MAN” himself.

“Wow.” Gaz purred, looking over the railing. “I've never seen spasms like that before...”

Seized by a swift kick of guilt, Dib hurtled over the railing into the pool below without thinking. He quickly regretted it.

Writhing in pure agony, Zim screamed and failed helplessly against watery death`s acidic grasp. In its extremely abused state, his body couldn't handle the two fluid feet of torture squared that he'd been plunged into. Gruesome boils erupted all over his skin, seething and steaming as Zim began...well, melting. Finally, the pain overcame our favorite Irken and he collapsed.

Only then did Dib rushed to his side. Gingerly, he scooped the unconscious body and carried it out of the pool. With strange tenderness, Dib laid Zim out on the Lobby floor.

“What have I done?” He stammered aloud, staring down at the motionless figure. Tears were burning in his eyes. “Oh god... What have I done?”

“Sibling Number One?” muttered Gaz, all at once appearing beside her brother to gain him in staring at Zim.

“Yeah?”

“This tiny shot of dorkhood ain't dead.”

Snapping out his ANGST, Dib blinked at her. “How do you know that?! I mean, it's not like you're the doctor in this fam--”

His rant was cut-short by an abrupt spurt of Irken spit to the face.

“hmmm...He's a spitter.”

“Oh-my-god...” Nauseated, Dib wiped at the gooey glob on his face. He only succeed in spreading it all over his cheek and fingers.

Gaz looked at him expectantly. “Well?”

“`Well' what?” snapped Dib, trying to flick away the Irken...stuff.

She gestured at Zim, who had by now cease smoldering but was still unconscious. “Aren't you going to doing anything with that?”

“Uh, no.”

In the background, squirrels chattered.

“Fine then.”

Pocketing her GameSlave, Gaz easily hoisted Zim's body over her shoulder and started to trudge outside. She had gone about a block before Dib finally caught up to her.

“What...pant...are you doing?!” he gasped, jogging alongside his sister.

“What does it look like I'm doing? I'm taking Zim home.”

Dib stared at Gaz like she'd sprouted spines again. “You taking Zim to OUR HOUSE?!”

“No stupid.” she hissed. “I'm taking him back to his OWN house.”

“Are you insane?!” Dib barked as they rounded the next corner. “You don't know what kind of diabolical deathtraps Zim's got hooked up there! I mean, he must've have upgraded his gnome-field at least. If I remember right, there's also several robotic minions in there too, as well as the computerized security systems, the laser weasels, the...”

While Dib babbled along, they walked right through the dread gnome-field and Gaz angrily yanked open the front door.

“Welcome home, son!” droned the Robo-parents.

Growling, Gaz pushed past them. She didn't even notice GIR and Mini-moose setting on the couch staring at her and Dib, the floppity cartoons momentarily forgotten.

“You want some candy?” asked the little robot in an extremely creepy voice.

Both humans stared at GIR in utter terror. Suddenly, the robot lunged.

“HIYA!” It screamed, latching onto Dib's face. “Why is your head still sooo biiiiiiig?!”

As Dib failed about in a vain attempt to dislodge the hyperactive robot, Mini-moose hovered up to Gaz. It seemed to glance at the bundle that was Zim

“Squeak?”

“What happened?” Gaz repeated, feeling repulsed by the very cuteness of the moose. “Zim was being a moron again and picked a fight with Dib.”

“Squeak?”

“Yah. He tried those stupid moves.”

“Squeak?”

“Well, he did call our mom a `cold-hearted bitch.' Zim was right about that, since Mom happens to be the most bloodthirsty of all the witch-queens, but my stupid brother still hasn't quite gotten over his Oedipal complex...” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Dib went ape-shit and opened up a major can of whoop-ass on your master. It was like watching a live-action version of `Immoral Wombat' only with a crappier soundtrack and even lamer special effects.”

“Ooh! I like that game.” GIR cooed, still clinging happily to Dib.

“I bet you do.” She turned back to Mini-moose. “Look, do you guys have a first-aid kit or sick-bay? I'm sick of lugging this dumbass.”

“Squeak!” Darting over to the couch, Mini-moose activated the code to raise it and uncover a large tube underneath. It darted down first, followed by Gaz (still carrying Zim), and Dib (still being cling to by GIR).When they landed at the bottom, Gaz somehow managed to stay perfectly on her feet while her brother went sliding across the sickbay floor.

“Yah! Let's do it again!” cheered GIR, now hanging off Dib's scythe-cowlick.

“Maybe later.” grumbled the paranormalist, sitting up.

Gaz went over to one of the larger tables and unceremoniously dump Zim on it. “Okay, now what?”

“Squeak.”

Gaz's eyes widened in shock at the moose's suggestion. She look at Zim's mangled body as it twitched slightly, then to the moose, and then back to Zim.

Going into anger mode, she stomped over to Dib and dragged him over to the table by his hair. “You. Take off Zim's clothes.”

“WHAT?!” Dib nearly scalped himself as he jerked away from the table.

“The moose-thing says that in order for the computer to examine him, Zim has to be naked.” She fixed Dib with a hellish glare. “And I don't want to even imagine what he has under that outfit.”

“Then why don't you make one of his drones do it?” snapped Dib, thrusting GIR toward her.

The defective AI offered her a rubber piggy. “I love you, scary lady.”

She scowled in disgust but GIR just kept on smiling.

“Come on, Dib.” Gaz wheedled. “You know you want too...”

He almost snapped a nasty come back at her, but Gaz's expression told Dib that, if he cherished his organs, it be wise to shut up and do it. That didn't really stop him from giving his devil sister one last pleading look as he moved closer to the table.

“Get on with it!” she snarled.

Whimpering in defeat, he sat GIR down on the floor and bent over Zim. Carefully, he reached over Zim and undid the latches on his now cracked armor and pulled off his shirt-dress. Setting them aside, he looked down at the prone alien. Now Dib could easily see the extent of the damage that he had inflicted upon the alien. The pounding had virtually turned into Zim one massive bruise of purple-green high-lighted by a few congealing scabs and a thin line of slimy drool.

Assailed by fresh waves of guilt, Dib tentatively put his hands against Zim's waist just above the band of his surprisingly tight pants. He marveled at the odd silky-spongy way that green flesh yielded under his fingers.

“You know,” he murmured aloud. “After all this time, I finally have Zim right where I want him. Helpless on an examining room table. Not that I wanted him to be all beat up like this, but it still oddly satisfying seeing him like this...” Unconsciously, Dib stroked a hand up the alien's flank as he leaned in even closer. “Think of all the things I could do to him while he's knocked-out. I may never get another chance like this again. All I need is a scalpel, a camera, film, a note pad and pen...” He was so close to Zim that his lips where trembling against the alien's neck. “I could finally get answers to all those questions I've wondered about. Like just what is a squiddly splooch? Or how does that weird PAK-thing work? Or maybe even if Zim actually is a...”

“SPA-LOOCH!”

Gaz laughed as Dib straightened and wiped at the fresh gob of spit on his face.

“Squeak.”

“Okay, okay!” She brushed Mini-moose away. “The moose says Zim's naked enough now, so you can stop molesting him now.”

Dib's pale face turned several unique shades of red. “I wasn't molesting him! I was examining him. You know...checking for broken bones and stuff...”

“Sure you were. Anyway, the only thing left to is put Zim in one of the rejuvenation chambers.” Gaz gestured toward the bank of high-tech looking coffin pods. “And close the lid. The automated medical program will do the rest.”

“Fine.” Still fuming about his sister earlier comment, Dib lifted the alien off the table and laid him out in the chamber. Taking his sweet time with strapping the face mask onto Zim (and sneaking in a few more “exploratory” gropes...) , he shut the lid and the chamber filled with a viscous orange gel. Fascinated, Dib watched as various tubes and doo-dads snaked out to attach themselves to Zim's body.

Gaz hurled the rubber piggy at Dib, hitting him square in his big-head. “Can we go home now?”

“Sure, sure...” He followed her to the door way leading out of the sickbay, pausing for one last look at Zim.

For some strange reason, Dib felt that he was going to live to regret pulling Zim out of the water today...