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Dib and Gaz	By : gothickun Category: +G through L > Invader Zim > Het- Male/Female Views: 15134 -:- 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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(EnPassant: It is time for a disclaimer. Disclaimer: All characters from Invader Zim are property of the renowned Jhonen Vasquez, greatest among artists. He owns Invader Zim along with Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and Squee, HE‘S A GOD, I TELL YOU, A GOD!)

Dib and Gaz (eleventh chapter)

Gaz stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She looked at her self in all her naked glory. Pert tits, full rounded ass, curves that run for miles. She stared, and was disgusted. She turned to her left and stepped into the bathtub and turned on the shower head. She was blasted with cold water on her bare shoulders and she took in the pain. She took deep breaths as her own body tried to regulate the sudden temperature change; she felt like running a marathon.

Through the sound of the water rushing above her and the clashing of the water underneath her, she heard the shuffling of shoes against carpet, the closing of the bedroom door, and then nothing. She took more deep breaths and she sat down on the tub. Cold water hitting her on the face and body, she sat there until the water changed temperature. She sat there, and thought intently on where all of this was heading.

~*~*~

Dib played with the keychain given to him by his father. He stood on the driveway, deciding whether or not he should take the van or his bike. The van was hideously painted white and red, with a half-hearted painting of a siren. At two thousand dollars, it was a lemon. It ran well, but wasn’t very fuel efficient. He didn’t think he had put any gas in the van. He only had a ten, three singles, and some coins. Thinking better of it, he undid the chain, wrapped it around the frame of the bike, and took off to catch the bus.

~*~*~

“See Dave, the way I see it, either the bitch puts out or she don‘t.”

“C‘mon, you don‘t have to talk that way about her Bert.”

“Just warning you, bro. These broads like to feel empowered now. You feed them and wine them, but you don‘t get any entrance to funland. Hell, not even to the sideshow.”

Dave looked at his companion in disbelief. Comparing sex to parks and amusements!

“By sideshow you mean…”

“Blow job.” Answered Bert.

“Oh.”

They walked the halls of Big Science Laboratories, monitoring the activity on this late and lazy Saturday evening. The sun just settling into the horizon was the indication that their shift was nearly over. BSL Security read the lapel on their shirts. White, pressed shirts that make you think of rent-a-cop trash. Bert certainly looked the description of rent-a-cop trash. He also had the attitude of one. Fat. Pot-bellied more like it; the sign of a pure beer drinker. His moustache, despite being neatly trimmed, had bread crumbs on it. His hands rested on his belt, one on top of his gun, and the other one on top of his flashlight and baton. Those big, meaty hands of his looked a mean sight.

“Dave, my boy, I‘m just looking out for your best interests, and your best interests, if you know what I mean.”

Dave chuckled. He’d known Bert for the whole time he had been employed for Big Science Laboratories Security--all of two years-- and he just chuckled at Bert’s inappropriateness. This was Bert’s normal tone and mood. Bert was “happily married” to “a hellhound, a righteous and heinous bitch of a woman” that “I love very much” he kept on saying.

“My best interests are quite well intact, Bert.” Dave said.

“Suit yourself.” Bert answered. Twiddling with the strap on his holster, Bert turned his head to look at Dave when something shiny caught his vision. It came from behind Dave’s head, and it hit him full force sending Dave falling forward. Bert pulled the gun from his holster and aimed it where the shiny object came from. He took in three lab techies holding pipes above their heads and ready for the down stroke that would take Bert out. He took three steps backwards, took the safety off his weapon, and squeezed off a round.

One pipe found Bert’s gun and sent it clattering to the floor. Another pipe hit Bert on the top of his head, and the final pipe fell to the floor with its owner tumbling down after it.

The two surviving lab techies raised their pipes again. Amidst the orange and purple glow of a descending sun, the blow for blow of pipe against flesh looked somewhat poetic. The blood splatter looked almost noir-ish. Dave and Bert’s skulls were bashed repeatedly until only gore was left in their place. Techie one and Techie two moaned, standing atop their fresh kill. The moans quickly changed pitch and fervor. They were laughing.

~*~*~

Dib placed his bike on the bike rack on the front of the bus and got in. Putting in two dollars and change in, he took his seat and looked out the window. The sky glowed purple as the setting sun was erased by the horizon. The pale light of the street lights soon washed the outside. Dib rested his chin on his hand and kept his gaze on the outside world. Every now and then the electrical discharge of the artificial magnetic shield skidded across the night sky. Everything felt artificial to Dib now. Ever since that day…

“The Earth is losing its protective magnetic shield.”

“Something needs to be done! We can‘t survive for long without it. God forbid--”

“It will take years! Creating a device big enough to create a magnetic pull the size of our planet--”

“We will be roasted by a solar flare sooner than we can create a means to revive our own magnetic field!”

Dib had been present with his father that day. The day that the world’s leaders and lead scientists met to discuss the planet’s survival. The subsequent planning of his father’s solution for the total protection of the Earth was a sight to behold. Ever the genius, Professor Membrane stood amidst his colleagues and gave the most rousing speech ever. He rallied every nation behind him and single-handedly saved the Earth.

But not before the sun could do its damage.

One of the most violent of sun storms hit the atmosphere of the planet seconds before the machine, the brainchild of Professor Membrane, was turned on. The magnetic discharge caused severe burns, short-circuited electronics, and most important of all, sent Zim into hiding. Dib thought it the loss of his precious Irken technology that might have sent Zim into hiding. Dib thought it impossible that Zim was dead. It just couldn’t be that Zim was dead. Zim haunted Dib’s dreams.

“You human filth!” He would scream.

“You haven‘t seen the last of Ziiiiiiiiiim!”

He jerked awake.

“Huh?”

“I sehd the fehld ees holdeen et sehms.”

Dib turned his head to look at the passenger beside him. A bushy, unkempt vagabond with most of his teeth missing, the type of person that had given up material possessions and just lived for the next day, shared Dib’s bench.

“Yeah, sure. It‘s holding.” Dib replied.

~*~*~

Dave was quite dead. The techies had ambushed Bert and Dave, and Bert had taken one of them out with a single shot. Dave would have been inspired by Bert’s marksmanship, that is if he were alive. His head no longer existed. All that was left was scattered pieces of skull and brains and eyes.

~*~*~

After Bert had been knocked to the floor, the techies took pleasure in beating Dave and Bert on the heads with their pipes. Dave had been coming to when he saw a pair of legs standing above him. Beyond the pair of legs he saw Bert’s face-up body laying on the floor and a techie hovering above him as well. He saw the pipe on the techie’s hand rise above and swiftly land on Bert’s face. He looked up to see the face of his attacker, recognized her and smiled a sickly smile. It was her. Her pipe was hovering above her head and it cut a straight line at his face.

Thwack.

And he lost consciousness, perhaps even dead.

Thwack.

She didn’t stop. Thwack. She kept on going, raising the pipe and slamming it down on top of Dave’s head. Thwack. The skull cracked, spilling its contents forth and sending them flying with each subsequent hit. Thwack. The sun was well hidden, but its warm hue of purples and reds contrasted with the splattering blood, the glint of the pipes and the sight of two technicians beating Dave and Bert’s head into an unrecognizable pulp. Thwack. Teeth stuck to the walls of the halls, adhering to them with the drying blood. Thwack. An eyeball rolled away from the massacre, only to be squished by a techie. The scene would have been thought beautiful by a surrealist or an abstract artist.

Thwack.

Amy stood above Dave, smiling at her handiwork. Her pipe, her skin, her hair, and her clothes were filthy with blood, mucus, cranial matter and bone. She emitted a sound that could only be classified as a moan. Her moans paused, continued, and paused again. They changed pitch, consistency, and length. Her partner-in-crime did the same as she. They were laughing.

~*~*~

(EnPassant: If you haven‘t noticed, I‘ve been reading a lot of Stephen King. I can‘t believe I‘m doing an update so soon. Most of the time I wait six months before posting an update. Anyway, enjoy.)
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Dib and Gaz