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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
- 14
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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 (fifteenth chapter)

Razor felt the air around his head snap. He took two steps back and realized he’d been shot at. He smiled wide with rage, holding the razor betwixt his fingers, and set off to traumatize his victims. He placed the razor on the side of the van and dragged it across the metal body. Quickly shifting his direction, he noticed the door opening and crept to it. He saw a face from the crack of the door and lanced his hand at it, hoping to drag it out, but the door suddenly closed on his arm and made him forget about his razor. The door opened again, and this time an arm shot out of it, and he felt something cold against his cheek. It took him a second to figure out that it was the barrel of a gun, then he felt pain. The blast registered, but nothing else did after that. He took no noticed of the following blasts. He was dead before he hit the ground.

~*~*~

“Oh my fucking god, you just killed someone!” Gaz shouted.

“Yeah. Gee. Thanks,” Dib answered, “I only just saved your life.” She didn’t noticed his trembling hand when he said that, so the response, the authority in it, took her by surprise.

“We gotta go,” he said. “We gotta get home.” He reached for the keys and turned the ignition, but it wouldn’t start. He turned the key again, trying to turn the engine, but it just sat there.

“It died on me before you got here,” she said.

“Fuck!” He looked around, hoping to see something, some sort of salvation. “No bike,” he said as he looked in the back, “not even spare parts. What the fuck!” He grabbed a wrench and threw it against the paneling

“Who is Siegfried?” she asked.

“What?” he responded.

“Siegfried: who is he? He called earlier. And how do you have a cell phone?”

“Do you have it?!” he yelled at her.

“Y-yeah…” she fumbled with her pants pocket, “I--Oh shit.”

She took out a broken flip phone.

“Don‘t tell me…I crushed it when I entered the van,” he said.

“I think I forgot to close it when I pocketed it,” she explained. He looked at her for a minute, quietly deciding what to do.

“We gotta walk home, then,” he finally said.

“What?!” she yelled, “Seven fucking miles?! In the dark?! What are you, nuts?!”

“We gotta get home! So we‘re gonna have to trek it,” he said sternly before jumping in the back. He lifted a panel and took out a tire iron and handed it to her. She stared at him with it in her grip hoping for an explanation. She didn’t get one. He grabbed the jack iron and got out another hand gun. This one looked magazine fed, a little too big for a normal police side arm.

“What the fuck?” she shrieked.

“Protection,” he said flatly. “C‘mon.”

~*~*~

“Sir?”

“Your orders stand.”

“And the Invader?”

“As of right now, the situation is contained. Our scientists tell us that the Invader has protocols. A military mind wouldn‘t move so suddenly. We‘re counting on this window to form an informed decision. The Invader might still prove useful.”

“Yes sir. The GPS chip is destroyed, sir. I will stay inside the compound until further notice, sir. I will keep in contact after the subject makes contact.”

“Understood, soldier. Over and out.”

~*~*~

He handed her the .32, opened the door and got out. She got out after him, careful not to look down. She felt the body at her feet as she walked towards Dib. She quickened her pace, tightening her grip on the tire iron and pistol.

“How are we getting home?” she asked.

“Good question,” he said, stopping for a second. He surveyed area before making a decision. “Let‘s keep to the shadows as much as possible,” he finally said.

“No, I mean, d’you know where we‘re going?”

“Well, yeah. I used to walk this stretch when I was younger.” He remembered Zim at that instant. His mortal enemy wasn’t dead, he felt it. He was alive, and he was just bidding his time. “Back when Zim was around, I used to take this road to the labs.”

“My god, are you getting nostalgic for your boyfriend?” she asked. “You frigging pansy.”

She pushed him out of the way and skulked around the shadows. “Shadows I can do,” she said, “but I don‘t know how your pasty white ass can stop glowing in the shadows.”

“Whatever. Let‘s just get home.”

~*~*~

Amy skulked around the boiler room. She took a more offensive stance, waiting and anticipating attacks. The Larva in her brain was getting used to operating its host’s body. It started to access the memory banks, and the last burning images of Amy’s life was brought up and viewed. It took an offensive stance not for want of food, but to attack its attacker.

It wanted to murder Zim.

She grabbed another pipe and swished it around. She wasn’t satisfied with her choice of weapon, but it would do. She walked softly to her brethren, took in the sight of decay, and brought up her hands up, tightening her grip on the pipe. One of her brothers looked up, grunted and cocked its head.

“I--eh--I. Ah-ah-am. Hu-hu-hungry,” she said and brought the pipe crashing down on her baby brother. She dropped the pipe after her brother’s head hit the floor. She kneeled beside him and grabbed his head. She started smashing the head against the floor like she would a coconut. When she saw the larva slip out of the cracks on the head her hands reached for it. “Hungry,” she said and ate the larva.

Professor Membrane stood outside the by the door and clicked the walky-talky’s button. “We‘ve got a problem, sir.” The professor waited until the line clicked.

“What is it?” Zim answered.

“We‘re running out of larvae.”

The line went dead.

~*~*~

Sporting a bleach-blonde spiky hair style, the shrunken man stood up to survey the targets. They had killed his Razor, his warrior. Now he had to get his hands dirty. Now he had to kill without anyone’s help. He waited until they walked away from the van to approach Razor. His hand clutched nothing more than air, the humorous broken by the slam of the door, his eyes rolled back. The razor laid on the floor, closed half-way, splattered in blood.

“O happy dagger,” he said, “this is thy sheath.” He thrust the razor into Razor’s gut, twisted it, and pulled it back. “The fucking bastards will pay,” he said and stepped into the van.

~*~*~

“This is stupid,” Gaz whispered.

“We have to move silently and stay in the shadows,” Dib said.

“It‘s still stupid,” she commented. “Feels like we‘re in some sort of spy movie. I hate spy movies.”

“Shut up,” he hissed.

“Just saying.”

They walked close to the buildings, trying hard to blend in. They walked for about fifteen minutes in total silence. She kept a step behind Dib, mainly because he knew the way, but more so because she was scared. She tried to keep her mind out of the fear, but couldn’t. The sight of the first bullet ripping into that man’s cheek was scarred into her memory. She sick sound playing over and over in her head.

“Stupid fucking spy movie…” she muttered.

“I get it, sheesh,” he responded. They walked in silence for another fifteen minutes. Gaz poked around her memory and pulled up the opening theme song to one of her all-time favorite, albeit hated genre, movies.

“Da-dun,” she whispered the Bond opening sequence. “Da-dun. Da-dun Da-da-dun.” He giggled silently. A hand shot from behind Gaz and grabbed her by the shoulder. Another hand shot forward and wrapped itself around her throat. “Shh,” a voice whispered into her ear. Dib turned around and saw Gaz on a chokehold. He dropped his jack iron and brought his gun level to the man’s face. The clank made the man jerk, which made him lose his grip on Gaz. She dropped the tire iron on his knee and he bellowed out in pain.

“Bitch!” he yelled. He held the razor firmly on his hand and thrusted it towards her. She moved aside, but the razor nicked her on the arm.

“Gaz!” Dib yelled, but Gaz had already moved in, gun in hand, and placed the barrel on the man’s chest. He punched Gaz square on the face, but Gaz had pulled the trigger. Instead of a kill shot, he was shot on the razor arm. The Blonde man yelled in pain.

“Fucking hell!” Gaz yelled.

“Move aside Gaz,” Dib yelled. But she didn’t. She lunged at Blondie and began punching him. She pistol-whipped him on the cheek, then placed the barrel under Blondie’s chin, spun the cylinder and squeezed the trigger. The hollow click scared Blondie, but he couldn’t move. She had pinned his good arm under her knee, and she kept squeezing the trigger. Click. He began to whimper in rage, “You fucking bitch.” She kept squeezing. Click. Tears began to swell in his eyes and fall, staining his cheeks. Click. He moaned loudly and averted his gaze, but she didn’t. She kept looking at him as she squeezed the trigger once again.

~*~*~

(EnPassant: Hok. Another update. I think I like where I‘m going with this. Heads up: this chapter is being brought to you by Deathmask Divine, by the Black Dahlia Murder. If you haven‘t heard it, tough.)
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Dib and Gaz