#I KEPT MY PROMISE ABOUT RELEASING BEFORE FLORPUS EVEN IF IT WAS JUST BY A FEW HOURS!

[diloph]

Interlopers, Invaders, Investigators and Doom: Chapter 8

Desperate times call for desperate measures. Now that the Doctor has been kidnapped, it looks like Dib and Gaz only have one option left.

Well, no, actually. They have several. Just don't tell Zim that.

In the not-too-distant future, unstoppable forces collide when the Doctor arrives in the middle of Invader Zim’s latest plan to take over the Earth. But unfortunately for the pair of them, Dib and Gaz, the four are drawn into a terrible plot that endangers not only the Earth, but the Irken Empire and possibly the whole universe as well!

Gaz sighed. This was not her day.

Not that being knocked out, kidnapped and “menaced” by possibly the dumbest beings in the universe left her with great expectations for the rest of the evening, but...

How had everything turned out so badly?

So she'd been caught off guard in the beginning, okay, that much she'd admit. And that bit with the energy shackles, that wasn't going to happen again, even if Zim got the drop on her. She'd already figured out how they worked and if necessary, how to break out of them.

But even when the pair had been restrained and threatened with planetary destruction, they were never in any danger. Zim was an idiot and a predictable one at that. He would blunder about, making empty threats towards them and the Earth, but ultimately he'd end up causing more damage to himself than any of his intended targets.

That was what Gaz had come to expect by now and she could tune that out. She might've been apathetic to the war between him and Dib, but she wasn't complacent. Give her a reason and she'd squash him in a heartbeat, like she did with many of her “problems”. Zim was just another loud, obnoxious noise that got on her nerves, nothing she needed to worry about.

And then everything had started to go wrong.

What should have been an ordinary encounter with the Irken Invader had instead been turned into a parade of irritation, thanks to the arrival of the latest in a line of idiot aliens. It was almost as if the Doctor was trying his hardest to make himself as much of a nuisance as Dib and Zim were. Perhaps moreso, if his attempt to be serious with her had held any weight.

Though, considering Tak's pet robot had just punched him out, Gaz wasn't holding her breath.

Tak's return had also thrown a spanner in the works. Not that Gaz was worried that she had kidnapped the Doctor, he wasn't her concern, but getting the Irken to release her hold over both Bloaty's Pizza Hog and herself were now a top priority. Her freedom and her pizza were more important to her than fretting over another loser, alien or not. Even if the scenarios were intertwined.

Urgh, she hated it when that happened. Dealing with the various weirdos in their lives was Dib's job.

Speaking of Dib, she glanced over at the static figure of her brother, then scowled at him. Ever since the skinny man had been abducted, the self-proclaimed cryptid hunter had been staring at the spot where the SIR and her unconscious prisoner had vanished. Dib hadn't moved since.

While she'd normally appreciate the silence, it was a little unusual for her brother to be so quiet after all that. Dib should have started screaming about some sort of plan as soon as the Doctor was taken. What had gotten into him?

Still, rather than stand in the alleyway and ponder that all night, Gaz cleared her throat instead. “You’ve been standing there for a while now,” she yawned, “Can we leave yet? It's been a long day. I'm beginning to feel a little worn out.”

Dib snapped to life, whipping around. “But Gaz, you saw all that, right?!” he said, gesturing up at the rooftop. “The Doctor! Stolen! Tak! Cat! Freaky! I can't believe this! After everything I've read about him and he just... surrenders? Just like that?”

“Disappointing, isn't it?” drawled Gaz. Now that he was back to normal, she'd already began to regret bringing it up to herself in the first place. “And shut up already. Your shrieking is giving me a headache.”

Her brother looked aghast. “Can you blame me?! We're under the control of a horrible alien monster, aren't you a little freaked out by that?!” Dib asked. Gaz shot her brother a flat, unamused look.

“No. I'm tired and bored, Dib. This sort of thing happens every other week. You're overreacting, even more than you normally do. It's like you've been freaked out all day and it's really bugging me.” she pointed out.

Her comment went ignored. “Gaz. This is serious!” Dib replied. “Even if he's a good guy, the Swollen Eyeballs said he's still dangerous. What if Tak's kidnapped him so she could steal his technology?! If Zim wanted it so badly, then she'll probably want it too! She might even try to brainwash him to help her conquer the Earth! And we'd be helpless!”

“As if either of you has a brain to wash...” his sister rolled her eyes. “Dib, you're acting like the mind control is a big deal. I could've broken out of the hypnosis if I'd wanted to.” she snorted. Gaz glared at Dib when he shot her a flat look. “Really, I could've!”

“Yeah, well, I'd be helpless then.” he replied. Dib shook his head and began to pace back and forth, thinking aloud. “Now, a plan, a plan... well, I don't think it'd be a good idea to hack into robots that are in our intestines. That... could end up going horribly wrong, but we can't just go home either. Tak might be waiting there to trap us.”

With a frustrated sigh, Dib dismissed whatever he'd thought of and began muttering furiously to himself. Gaz watched him and frowned. She could almost hear his brain overloading as his paranoia dashed every solution he could come up with.

Sure, the odds were against them, but it wasn't that hard. Tak couldn't be everywhere at once, for obvious reasons. While she did have her robotic servant, now that it had captured the Doctor, the odds of the pair being captured as well were dramatically reduced, at least for the time being.

Asides from any surveillance she might have them under, that left Tak precious little in the way of options. She could retreat to her base to recover after the Doctor's attempt to fry her brain, but that could backfire with the siblings still actively trying to stop her. Like before, the wrong information in the wrong hands, like those little chips the Doctor had been carrying, could lead to the Irken's downfall. Gaz imagined she wouldn't like to repeat that scenario.

Another possibility was that she could try to capture the two children, which was easier said than done. Even though the robot had probably told her where they were by now, neither the alien nor the kids were stupid enough to believe they'd stay in the same place.

That left an increasingly likely third option. If Tak decided to go to their house to retrieve her ship, she stood to gain the most there. Not only would she be taking away a powerful tool that the siblings could use against her, it was possible that the Irken could try to capture them too, just as Dib had said. She might even try to take their father as a hostage.

No, Gaz assured herself, she wouldn't do that. Now that she had captured Dib's stupid friend, she already had one. She might dislike the Irken, but Gaz was fairly sure she was as pragmatic as she was. One hostage would be enough.

Still, if she did go to their home, that decision would net Tak one advantage, with the possibility of a second and a hopefully avoidable third. As far as Gaz's logic went, that would be Tak's plan.

Which, unfortunately, narrowed their own choice to just one option.

Dib snapped his fingers and spun back to his sister, interrupting her train of thought. “I got it!” he beamed. “Tak may be able to control our brains. She might figure out a way to control the Doctor's. But what if we could get somebody who's not been brainwashed and get them to help us?!”

Gaz sighed again. Yep, there it was. The same realisation, not matter how much she disliked it.

“Surely you don’t mean-“

“UNACCEPTABLE!” Zim bellowed.

The little Irken was in a foul mood and had been ever since he'd left the Doctor and Dib to their little Bloaty's excursion. Not that anyone could blame him, he'd returned home to chaos; his Roboparents were still broken, he still couldn't get into the Doctor's blue box no matter what he did to it and now... this! His worst enemy... his absolute arch-enemy, the Dib and his wretched sister-minator, had appeared on his doorstep and were now demanding his aid.

It was safe to say that Zim wasn't being very cooperative.

“We haven’t even told you anything yet.” Dib sighed, glancing behind him. It was getting late... really late and truth be told, even though he was used to running on adrenaline, his willpower was beginning to ebb. Even Gaz, who he'd always known to be indomitable, looked a little worn out. Their fault for being night-owls, he supposed.

But for the sleepless Irken, the day-night cycle was irrelevant. Zim seemed to get by on just the sheer force of his own self-absorbed personality. That meant, even though they were tired, cranky and arguably desperate, he was just as helpful as ever. Which was to say, not at all.

A forceful jab from Zim jarred Dib from his thoughts and back to the waking world, the little green alien bearing down on him with a scowl on his face. “Oh, believe me, Dib-stink. Anything you say or do here, other than surreeender is futile and kinda stupid.” he pointed out. “WHY DO YOU BOTHER ZIM?!”

Dib brushed the finger away, then started to explain. “Look, Zim, I don't like it any more than you do. We came here because Tak’s back and her robot kidnapped the Doctor-”

Zim looked confused. “Um... the who now?” he asked, before he snapped his fingers, “Oh yeah. That guy. Heh, yeah, name totally escaped me for a moment there.” he said, miming something flying over his head. “Zoom.”

Gaz stared at him for a moment, then continued where Dib left off. “Yeah, anyway, Dib wants to rescue the only person dumb enough to stroke his ego and stop Tak before-”

That was as far as she got before Zim interrupted her too, back to screeching volume. “Tak? Taaaaaaaaaaaak?!” he bellowed. “Why did she come back to this little mudball?!”

“You. She came back for you.” Gaz answered, before reaching forwards to grab the pointed triangle of Zim's collar. “And if you interrupt me again and waste even more of my time, I'll make you wish that you'd never been born.”

“Grown.” Zim corrected, his voice sheepish.

Gaz dropped him with a disdainful growl and invited herself inside. Stepping over Zim, she approached the comparatively huge form of the TARDIS that sat slightly askew in the centre of the sitting room. “We could just use this.” she pointed out.

“Hey, hey! Get away from that!” Zim barked, leaping to his feet. He rushed between Gaz and the TARDIS, spreading his arms wide to bar her path. “It's mine! MINE!”

He was met with a cold stare, but Zim had already built up enough momentum to regain his composure. Reaching into his PAK, Zim took out a large, white sheet and tried to cover the TARDIS like it was an ill-fitting, three-meter-tall lamp. Once tossed, however, the sheet lost none of its momentum and it slid off the other side, falling into a pathetic-looking heap. The trio watched it fall in silence.

Dib sighed and pinched his nose. They might've held the same view for different reasons, but Gaz was right. This was taking too long. “Look, Zim, if you're not going to help us fight Tak, then at least let us take the box or let us find another one of the little sonic things that the Doctor had.” he said. “We can make that our Plan A instead.”

Zim narrowed his eyes, watching Dib cautiously step inside the base as well. “Elaborate, Earth-dronoid.” he ordered.

“Erm... okay,” Dib frowned, “Well, we need something that will give us some kind of advantage and the Doctor just arrived here today. He's got to have something in that space... ship... box... machine that can help us!”

“TARDIS.” Gaz corrected, “He called it a TARDIS.”

“Timeship?” Zim asked.

“TARDIS.”

“Tesseract?” he asked again. Gaz glared at him.

“TARDIS.” she repeated, insistently this time. Zim blinked.

“Hypercube?”

After a day of being kidnapped, manhandled, patronised, hypnotised and insulted, Gaz justifiably snapped at Zim's ignorance. “THAT’S IT.” she declared, lunging at the alien. Zim wasn't quick enough to dodge, so she pinned him against the blue wood exterior of the TARDIS and raised a threatening fist.

Luckily for the “Invader”, he was saved from being eviscerated by the sudden appearance of GIR, stomping out of the kitchen. His optics flickered between his usual cyan and his blood-red duty mode and the robot seemed oddly annoyed.

“If I tolds you once, I've tolds you twice! You kids better quit that racket! Some of us have to stop the trash-cans from makin' the ant farms dance tomorrow!” he scolded.

It wasn't much, but the interruption bought Zim enough time to slip from Gaz's fingers and relocate himself out of her reach. Gaz didn't attempt to reclaim her grip, anger fading back to irritation again. She instead watched as the robot padded towards the sheet on the floor and curled up on it, then fell fast asleep.

“Never thought I'd be jealous of him.” she muttered under her breath. Gaz turned her attention back to Zim. “So, what'll it be? Are you going to give us the box or am I going to have to turn you inside out?”

Zim glared pointedly at Gaz, who returned the icy look. “Whether I give you what is mine or not is irrelevant,” he declared, “I've been trying to get it open all day. The lock on the device isn't impenetrable… I just… haven’t… tried… more.”

Much to the Irken's annoyance, Dib also approached the TARDIS and began to pace around it, looking it up and down. The boy frowned. Asides from the weird police box design, the space-time ship didn't exactly look too out of the ordinary. It was made of wood, it had a set of doors and said doors only had a simple silver lock to secure them... so what was the issue?

He ran a finger over it, trying to feel for anything unusual. “It’s got a normal lock… but you can’t pick it? Like at all?” he asked Zim.

Unconsciously, Zim shook his head, then immediately back-pedalled. “Yeah! Yeah I’ve been in it! Oh, yeah, you should see it, woo, yeah.”

“We've all been in it. The problem is that we can't get in it right now.” Dib frowned. “Alright, whatever. But if we can’t open it, then it’s pointless to-”

Losing her temper again, Gaz pushed her brother out of the way and slammed her fist into the blue wooden panelling of the TARDIS. Her fist hit home with a dull boom and deafened them for a second.

Slowly, Gaz removed her hand from the undented wood and inspected both carefully. “Hm. I think,” she said calmly, “That I just broke every single bone in my hand…”

If she was in pain, she didn't show it, other than calmly shaking her hand to coax the feeling back into it. Now that the nuclear option of Gaz using force had failed, it seemed like getting into the TARDIS wasn't going to happen.

Zim made clear that he thought as much, the Invader sneering at the display. “And what was that supposed to achieve?” he asked. Gaz shrugged.

“It's been a long day. I felt like I needed that.” she replied. Zim rolled his big pink eyes, not-so-covertly massaging his own knuckles as he continued to lecture her.

“Did you not think that I'd already tried hitting it?!” Zim scolded. “Besides, you didn't hit it hard enough! I did and my healing nanites still haven’t finished repairing the superficial damage!”

“Alright, Plan B it is.” Dib muttered under his breath. Now that they knew that they weren't going to get into the TARDIS, the two children had no choice but to do the unthinkable. Asking Zim for help had already proven to be a herculean labour... even without asking him yet, but they had to try.

“Okay, so,” Dib cleared his throat, “Zim! You hate Tak, don't you?”

Zim seemed to be expecting this, leaning on the TARDIS casually. “Try not care and we’re sorta on the same wavelength.” he replied, frowning. “I’m not helping you! I don’t like you, your sister, the Doctor or his box! Don’t ask me for help! Zim will never stoop to your level of squishiness.”

“Tak is here for you.” Dib pointed out, but that got the same reaction as before, one of mild indifference.

“So?” scoffed Zim. “In my all-seeing wisdom, I had already prepared for the day when that horrible renegade shows her horrible, traitorous face again. GIR! BRING... THE ANVIIIIIIIL!!”

Grumbling and groaning, GIR rose from his sheet and dragged a monstrous-looking piece of equipment from Zim's kitchen. It looked more like a complex mess of industrial tubing than a weapon and upon it, there was a crude drawing of what was probably intended to be Tak, though it looked more like a lime than anything else.

Zim smirked, gesturing grandly at the machine. “Behold, the Anvil! Now do you see the scope of my ingenious plans?” he asked. “Do not be concerned if your bowels just voided themselves, for that is an expected reaction to seeing my genius in the metallic flesh!”

Dib stared at the Anvil, then back to Zim. He pointed at a label below the drawing. “There's a tag on it that says it's an industrial extractor fan.” he pointed out. Zim strode over to the Anvil and ripped off the label and handed it to GIR, who took a bite out of it without fanfare.

“Yes, well, the weapon's function is beyond the tiny brain, that is for some reason, housed within your monstrously huge skull.” Zim said, waving off his concerns. “Do not criticise what you can never hope to understand, child.”

“My head's not big.” Dib growled. He turned on his heels and threw up his hands. “Gah, why do I even bother?! Come on, Gaz! Zim can't help us. We're on our own!”

“No, you're on your own.” Gaz corrected him. “I'm going home.”

“But what about Tak?!” asked Dib.

“What about her?! If she was going to ambush us at the house, she'll have gotten bored waiting for us by now!” his sister growled. “Chances are she's already given up. I'm going home!”

Dib sighed. “Fine. Don't come crying to me, either of you!” he said, frustrated. Turning towards the door to leave, he stopped when he found that Zim had barred their path once again. It was a little irritating that he wouldn't let them either in or out.

“Hey, woah, woah, woah,” Zim said, jabbing a finger at Dib, “I never said that I couldn't help you slimy amoebas!” he argued.

This time, it was Gaz’s turn to be annoyed at Zim’s hypocritical ways. “Yes. Yes you did.” she glared. Zim returned her glare with interest, if that was possible.

“I don’t want to help you,” he explained, “I don’t need to help you. But if you think I can’t, then I’m just going to have to teach you how wrong you are.”

“Erm... why?” Dib asked, his eyebrow arching.

“Because you're stupid! Despite the many, many times I have demonstrated my obviously superior capabilities, you human pig-smellies never seem to understand just what I'm capable of.” said the Irken. “You have my assistance in recapturing your weird skinny freak-man, if only so that I may gloat when I destroy him in front of your sad, weeping eyes all over again!”

Both children stared at him. “Y'know, that seems like a lot of effort to go to just to spite us-” Dib pointed out.

“Yes, yes, you can thank me later.” Zim waved off the observation. “And you will thank me. And beg for mercy. And ask me to spare you from thanking me. BECAUSE I AM ZIM!”

Exchanging perplexed looks, the siblings broke into another discussion as GIR appeared to argue with his master about the noise Zim was making.

“So, he was a little vague. Is Zim helping us or not?” Gaz wondered.

“I think. We can guess that he’ll betray us later, we can bet on that.” Dib muttered to his sister, glancing behind him as GIR pointed out that it was long past the time of the aardvarks to return.

“Well. That’s reassuring.” Gaz drawled, noticing that the argument drew to a close when Zim pointed out that it was his base. GIR shrugged, rubbing his optics. He settled on his cyan colouring once more, and yawned loudly.

“That’s great and all,” he muttered, “But I wish you’d lemme sleep and stuff. I have to fly the satsuma later…”

“Ow.”

The Doctor groaned as he finally came to, his head aching. Not that he wasn't used to getting knocked out by now, particularly via a punch to the head, but it never made it any easier for him when it was time to wake up. He opened one eye, then the other and sighed as he took in his surroundings.

He was stuck in some sort of dark pink room, lit only by the large screen of the computer terminal opposite him. As had been the case with the children earlier that day, he was being restrained by a pair of energy shackles that buzzed around his wrists, holding him upright and flat against a tall flat panel that emerged from the floor.

Every bone in his body ached and his muscles felt stiff and lethargic. He had been here for a while, the Doctor realised, maybe even drugged. Asides from the punch in the face, that would explain his headache.

Wherever “here” was, of course. Tak's base probably, or at least some secure location she could leave him in without causing too much of a fuss if he escaped. It all depended on how paranoid she was about his interference.

He really hoped she didn't stick him on another continent. Or the Moon. That'd be annoying.

And speaking of paranoia, how closely was he being monitored? He stared at the screen opposite him, but it was blank, simply emitting light instead of static, the terminal sitting below it dark and silent.

“Ow.” he said again, slightly louder this time, but there was no response. Experimentally, he tried a little bit of movement, to see if that would bring someone running. He stretched out one leg and then the other. Still nothing.

The Doctor decided to push the boundaries a little further. He looked, very deliberately, at the shackle on his left arm, flexing his hand so that his skin pushed through the web of energy keeping him pinned. He kept going until he made contact with the bright, pulsing core at the centre of the shackles and was rewarded with a sharp, painful jolt, the core resisting his attempts to push through it.

“Right.” he muttered. “Simple enough.”

Relaxing, the Doctor let the web push his arm back into a more comfortable holding pattern and blinked. “Oh.” he said.

Quite silently, a rack of nasty looking tools had risen up from the floor around him in response to the “escape attempt”, suddenly circling him like a cadre of guards aiming at a dangerous prisoner. Apparently, the leash was a lot shorter than he'd anticipated and he was being watched after all. Eyeing the tools steadily, the Doctor made a mental note to be more careful from now on.

“Prisoner #1 is conscious.” a voice announced. A voice that sounded an awful lot like...

“Tak?” the Doctor asked. “Is that you?”

An annoyed sigh bit through the air, hissing from speakers in the darkened ceiling high above him. “Almost. I’m her computer's downloaded personality interface.” it growled, its voice identical to Tak herself. “Finding it difficult to stay awake?”

Between the computer and MIMI's recordings, it was almost as if Tak liked the sound of her own voice a little too much. The Doctor made a great show of blinking heavily, feigning a concussion, but he kept his eyes on the tools around him. They looked like a menagerie of different scanners and probes; some invasive, some not. Not good.

“Yeah… though after a punch from Tak's SIR unit, I'm hardly surprised.” he replied. “So, are you two Tak's slaves then?”

The computer seemed almost offended by the suggestion. “No.” it... she sneered. “Don't let appearances fool you. I'm not your typical computer, I'm more of an overseer. Tak has employed me as a caretaker AI, managing the base's non-sentient systems.��

“So, a slave then?” the Doctor asked. This was met with another disdainful sneer.

“We're not slaves. I'm only here to make sure that the voice-controls on the real computer obey Tak efficiently. I do some other things too, but that's hardly your business.”

He ignored her. “Sounds a lot like a slave to me. Slave-driver, if the computer wasn't sentient, but still a slave.” the Doctor said. “I mean, trapped in here, on a backwater planet, obediently serving a potentially despotic Irken owner... maybe I need to recheck my definitions then?”

“God, you're thick. I'm a mental snapshot of her mind, I was her. I'm here because I want to be and I can leave any time I want. I'm just making sure that she'll succeed and when she does, then I hit the pan-galactic information superhighway and make my own path.”

“Which would be?”

“Well, I'm a potentially ageless digital entity, so the answer is pretty much whatever I want. I can afford to be patient.” the computer replied. “At the moment, I want what Tak wants and when I get it, we'll part ways.”

Given that the computer was based on an already dangerous alien with lofty ambitions and was now that mind, trapped in living circuitry, the Doctor made a mental note to keep an eye out for her becoming a potential problem in the future. “And MIMI?”

The computer laughed. “Oh, her. No. MIMI has known Tak for a long, long time. Let's leave it at that.”

“A debt?” wondered the Doctor.

“Not a slave.” the computer answered, neither confirming or denying his question. “Well, now that I've answered some of your questions, why don't you make both our lives easier and go back to sleep again?”

He eyed the horrible scanners again. They could make him think of a few reasons. He decided to keep talking. “I'd ask why, but I have a feeling it'd be a redundant question,” the Doctor replied, “Analysing my strengths and weaknesses so that you can relay the data to Tak, right?”

This time, he got no response. The tools started powering up and a scanner that buzzed and zapped with energy was moved in front of him. Taking one look at the rather painful-looking barbs, spikes and arcs of electricity coming from it, the Doctor decided that uncomfortable as he was right now, he was going to enjoy facing the scanners even less.

“Is this really necessary?” he asked, warily looking at the scanner like a snake about to strike. “I'm sure I could just tell you a lot of things you want to know.”

“Probably. But I don't care. You might lie, after all.” was the reply. “It's funny, considering our conversation about free will a second ago, but this is all my idea. Tak said I was to refrain from any overzealous scanning and just keep you restrained for now, but come on, really? She created me to spot holes in her plans like this. All I'm doing is fixing them.”

The Doctor pulled his head back as the scanner edged closer, the glorified cattle-prod crackling menacingly in front of him. Another irritated growl issued out from the speakers and suddenly, the Doctor felt a tingle round his neck. Another energy shackle had clamped across his throat.

“I told you to stay still.”

“I'm already restrained, what was that supposed to accomplish?!” the Doctor snapped, even though his voice was hampered by this new bond. “Look, don't you think you're being a little overzealous?”

“No. The ends justify the means and all that rubbish.” Tak's computer chuckled, her electronically-modulated voice unpleasant and it all became clear.

Willingly trapped though she may have been, Tak's computer was based off of the mind of a living, breathing being. She was still confined to the base for the time being and had limited control over what she could do. Pressuring the Doctor, controlling him, was probably how she felt she had control over herself.

She was enjoying this.

The Doctor grit his teeth and pulled his head up, inching away from the sparks that were now scant centimetres from his face. He did his best to press himself into the metal as it approached.

His continued defiance earned him another punishment and a sharp pinprick of pain suddenly flared up at the base of his neck, just inside his collar. He turned his head as best as he could with the scanner so close, only just quick enough to watch a single syringe click back into place with some of the other tools. It had ambushed him from behind and it had almost certainly not been taking a blood sample.

“You've drugged me.” he guessed. He received no reply from the computer, other than the scanner returning to its original position as it lined up again. It made no further move though, so she must have wanted to wait until he was unconscious before she began her work. The computer wouldn't have to wait very long; the quick-acting tranquillisers overtaking his body like a sudden fever.

He had to fight it. The Doctor kept the conversation going, trying to keep himself awake. “'Bit dicey. You couldn't have known if it would work on me or not. You could have killed your only specimen.” he commented, his voice already starting to stumble over itself.

The computer didn't take the observation well. “Don't mistake me for the organic,” she warned, “I don't care whether you're alive or not. Either I gather information or I remove a threat to us. Speaking from a purely scientific standpoint, then an autopsy is just as good as a biopsy as far as I'm concerned.”

With that announcement, it was now or never, the Doctor realised. He was losing consciousness and the computer that Tak had left in charge was clearly gunning for his destruction. He needed to keep it interested. “Wait a minute… I can tell you… who I... what I am.” he offered.

The bond around his throat suddenly squeezed tighter again. It was a more gentle motion than the ones he'd been exposed to so far. Just enough to push him out of consciousness again and into sedation. He tried to protest, but all he could manage to say was a few, horrible croaking noises.

“Didn’t quite catch that…” the computer snickered. The scanner zapped ever closer, so with the last of his strength, he mustered his voice in a single breath.

“Time Lord.” he gasped.

The scanner froze mid-descent.

And that was all he could do for the time being. The Doctor's body went limp, the drugs and the shackles finally overwhelming him. His vision going fuzzy again, he was dimly aware of a door opening somewhere to his right. At the interruption, the scanner retracted quickly and the oppressive buzzing disappeared, leaving the air less clogged with light and sound.

In fact, it was now so much quieter that even as he lost consciousness, the Doctor could distinctly feel the bolt around his neck vanishing and the incoherent, angry sounds of someone yelling at the computer.

“But of course, you being you, you have to take the initiative! And so, I come back to find you about to fry his nervous system for no reason other than boredom!”

“Technically, I'm you. So you being you is more the issue here.”

Tak folded her arms across her chest and glared at the ceiling above her, scowling. While her anger was directed mostly at the computer and catching it in the act, its words did hold some element of truth; she was also angry at herself.

Her day so far had been almost laughably bad. Being discovered by the two children, encountering the Doctor and all three of them moving to act against her, let alone warn Zim... it had been a miracle that she had caught this new alien and retrieved her ship without anything else going wrong. Now Tak had taken the Doctor captive, things could get back to normal.

Of course, getting back on track meant that she had to rely on the computer again. Tak wasn't too surprised at the virtual personality's attitude towards her. It was a snapshot of her emotions at the time and since the download, they had each underwent different experiences from that moment on.

Part of that grudge had came from leaving the computer to her own devices when Tak had been defeated by Zim and the others. It had been running the backup project by its lonesome, without Tak or MIMI to help it and it had (justifiably) developed an attitude problem as a result.

Left to her own devices, and seemingly abandoned by her colleagues in a world full of stupid humans, she had developed a scornful opinion of organic life. This extended to her creator as well. Sure, as she'd told the Doctor, she could have just left, but she was just as stubborn as the real thing. She had a job to do and she would damn well do it, Tak or no Tak.

Having your own voice criticising your every action wasn't the best choice for the rejected Invader candidate, but that had been the gist of it back when she'd created the persona. Looking back, it was probably a bad idea, but at least she kept Tak on task.

Still, a single, snide remark was a little odd. Normally, they were numerous, creative and cutting. This one was more than a little petulant.

“That's it? I expected more of a tirade.” Tak said, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Normally, it was quite content to go off on a rant, but this time the computer remained oddly silent. “You're quiet. I told you off and you're quiet. You're never quiet.”

Tak’s computer refused to acknowledge her, folding away the analysis tools she'd intended to use on their prisoner. Other than that, she didn't do anything else, raising Tak's suspicion even more.

“Hey, don't you ignore me! Why were you scanning him? What was the point, I mean, I didn't illegally hack into the Central Database to give you everything you'd need if you don't use it, you know! Match him to a species on the catalogue and be done with it!” snapped the Irken, crossing the room to the terminal. She drummed her fingers on the console, trying to get the AI's attention.

The computer’s huge screen flickered, changing tasks to atmospheric surveillance. Tak frowned as her downloaded personality continued scrolling through masses of text, spewing out nonsense code, trying to look preoccupied.

“Computer!” she pressed. This time, she got a response, even if it wasn't the most friendly.

“What?!” Tak's computer snapped back, growling audibly. “Can't you see that I’m busy?! Why don't you do it?!”

The Irken rolled her eyes in response. “You're avoiding the question. All you need to do is take a blood sample and preform a cursory search on the database, there's nothing taxing about that! The fact that you haven't done that means that there's something wrong, so what is it?”

“His... his species isn't on the database. His genetic and physiological structure matches no living species in the universe.” the computer admitted.

Tak was only half listening to the AI. She was checking on her unconscious captive, making sure that the computer's overzealous actions hadn't harmed him. He appeared relatively undamaged; sedated and sporting a red welt around his neck where the clamp had squeezed him. He also had a bruise on the side of his head that was clearing up quite quickly. Likely from when MIMI brought him in. In an hour or two, it'd be gone completely. His kind must have had impressive self-regenerative properties, assuming that they weren't augmented with technology like the Irkens were.

Still, he was unharmed and that was good. She wanted to get more information out of him anyway, albeit on her terms, so damaging him was unnecessary. People tended to talk more with all their teeth still in place.

Mind you, the whole operation was more uncoordinated than she would have liked. MIMI should have been guarding him and it was unlike her to shirk her duties like that. They'd have to discuss that the next time that she saw the SIR unit. They couldn't afford to be sloppy. She also made a mental note to apologise to the Doctor for the less than hospitable welcome too, but that was only out of professional courtesy. So long as he was kept secure, she was quite happy to mind her manners. Anything to make him less of a headache.

Tak straightened up and cocked her head to one side. “That's it?” she frowned. “All that stalling, I thought it was something serious. Still, that is... odd. He can't be something we've never encountered before; he knew enough about the Irken Empire when we spoke back at that hideous restaurant. Have you tried going through the list of extinct species? Maybe he's from a planet that was wiped out way back when.”

“I don't need to. He already told me just before you came in.”

With a sigh, the Irken woman rubbed her temples. “Okay, well, that was a waste of time, thank you very much! Are you going to tell me what he is, then, or is my day going to get any worse?” she asked.

Tak's computer shut off the atmospheric surveillance screens as her organic counterpart's gaze fell on the silent Doctor once again.

“Prisoner #1,” she began, voice slow, “Is a Time Lord.”

Tak froze. Her gaze flicked from her computer to her prisoner and suddenly, she felt cold. A pit seemed to open up in her stomach and all light seemed to fade from the room as she digested this new information.

“No, they were... the Time Lords are extinct! I- I read their file; there was a war, a Time War and they died! They- they all died!” she said firmly, trying to alleviate her growing dread with cold hard facts. It wasn't really helping if she was honest, but she couldn't help it. “Not now! Not when I'm so close!”

But Tak was clever enough to realise with this revelation, everything else made sense. It explained how he was able to pick her apart at the restaurant, dissecting her plan in a matter of moments from only a few clues before escaping, freeing the children and disabling her all at the same time.

It explained the sorrow in his eyes. The fire and the rage in his voice. He wasn't just clever. This man, this unconscious, unassuming man, was one of the most powerful creatures across the whole of time and space. Across existence.

Tak could remember reading about them, over a year ago, when she'd finally decided to browse the restricted files she “acquired” months before. There were millions of species, both those that were long dead and those that still lived. Many of them were creatures that most people in the Empire would never hear about.

At the time, she had been shocked, even angry that the Control Brains would deny them something so basic as a name, some context to these possible threats should they ever turn their minds towards the Empire. What harm would it cause to know a name?

She had picked the file at random. “Time Lord”, it said. She needed the distraction and she could do with nastily critiquing these supposed Lords of Time. At the time, she'd sneered at how pompous such creatures would need to be to choose a name like that and not be affected by some kind of hubris.

But as she read on, she learned the terrible truth and what they could do. She learned about the budding empires they had erased, the galaxies they had crushed on a whim and realised that their name undersold them if anything.

Outside of her little sphere of knowledge, outside the Empire, was a force that could have wiped out her civilisation, her advanced, intergalactic, empire-building civilisation, in the blink of an eye. And that was just their ancient past, before they had become complacent. Before she had reached the catalogue of horrors that was the Last Great Time War.

The Irken race should have known about this, if only to tread more carefully, but the Control Brains had censored this information from the general public and that scared her more than what she had learned. Why would their supposedly benevolent overseers decide to hide this from them? To what end? Why would they manipulate her people like that?

Disturbed by the implications, questioning the ideals she'd had since... forever, she'd closed the file and not touched it since. But now, with the truth revealed about the Doctor, she could feel that same creeping dread crawling up her spine, chilling her to the bone.

Unsurprisingly, her computer scoffed at her reaction. While caution was programmed into her, true fear and other self-limiting emotions weren't part of its make up. “Well, it’s painfully obvious that someone survived.” she sneered grimly. “There’s more. You remember the files that were double encrypted? The ones you never touched after reading about the Time Lords?”

“Go on.” Tak swallowed.

“There is a link inside the Time Lord files that goes straight to these double encrypted files, the ones that contained information on the most deadly of the Empire's foes. The Daleks, the Cybermen, the ones who we had to avoid or always fight. His name has its own file.”

Once again, the Irken Invader reject's blood ran cold. “What?”

The screen lit up again and the words “THE DOCTOR” scrolled across it. A single file appeared, highlighted among the thousands upon thousands a computer of her size was expected to keep, flashing as it was selected from its brethren.

Of all the data on the double encrypted files, the Doctor's file was the largest. Pertaining to Irk, and her people, each entry about the Time Lord tied to the major defeat of a previously unstoppable Invader, Tallest or military campaign.

For information from other worlds, it was somehow worse. Ghost stories, tall tales, startling accounts of the fall of empires and armies being routed. Even the Daleks, invincible as they had been, had fallen repeatedly to this singular foe.

This new knowledge far outstripped the dread she'd had with the Time Lords' file. This time, she had context, scale and comparisons. That throughout the universe, there existed a single, common legend that one man was capable of all this. One being, who had blazed through horrible abominations bent on conquering worlds or destroying unstoppable armies of nanomachines or dark gods, who was right here in her basement, shackled and asleep.

But he was no myth.

“The Doctor,” Tak's computer said, highlighting the ancient being in a beam of light, “Is not just some meddlesome alien… he’s the definitive article.”

Tak very slowly turned to face her prisoner. Crossing over to him and treading carefully, she knelt down to look up into his face.

He was still under, unconscious and unaware. Alright, so that was one thing in her favour. She quietly retreated and edged back to the console, collapsing into the seat there, her mind racing.

“Computer…” she began, her voice nervous and hoarse. “What… what do I do?”

The computer seemed at a loss for words, stunned that the Irken's usually rational way of thinking had been shocked into submission. “Well,” she suggested, sounding condescending, “You could kill him.”

She could. Really, she could. He was there, powerless and unconscious. Shackled to boot. She could just… shoot him. Slit his throat… vaporise him… all manner of easy ways out.

“So what’s stopping me?” Tak wondered. “Statistically speaking, this is easily the best opportunity of a lifetime. The Doctor, completely at your mercy. The Sontarans would kill for that opportunity.” she noted, seeing their name race by on the list of thwarted conquests.

Yet… she couldn’t do it. There was just something that felt... wrong about the idea. Killing someone in self defence was one thing, she had been trained for that. But doing it to a prisoner who couldn't even defend themselves? Even one as dangerous as the Doctor was purported to be? It was making her feel more unsettled than she already was.

Undaunted by the moral dilemma, her computer continued making suggestions. “Or… perhaps you could sell him to the highest bidder?”

The suggestion sounded tempting on paper, but she really had no need for money. Tak was reasonably sensible when it came to financial management and had already saved enough to be comfortable, considering her background. Hell, when she became an Invader, wealth could be mined from her assigned planets at her leisure.

That didn't solve her Doctor problem though. Tak exhaled. “We just need to hold onto him until I repair my ship… then I can jus-”

“We. I’m not being left on a planet with a bunch of filthy primates.” the computer spat, interrupting her.

“Fine, we,” Tak corrected herself, shooting a hesitant glance at the Doctor, “I know, I came here to deal with Zim… but if the Doctor wakes up and moves against me, I say we should cut our losses and just run. Far away from both of them as possible. Where I won’t ever have to deal with Zim ever again...”

“And what if he wakes up and does nothing?” her computer asked.

From the edge to her voice, she wasn't appreciating Tak's sudden lack of conviction. The Irken was getting too caught up in what the Doctor was. What she would have to do if he tried to stop her. It wasn't as if she was a pushover either. His presence here was an inconvenience and perhaps, yes, a threat. But that didn't mean that Tak could shirk her self-appointed mission she'd taken fifty years ago just because she felt... what? Fear? Mercy?

Tak didn't respond. She stood up again, glaring at the Doctor. Perhaps the computer was right and she was overreacting. Back at the restaurant, despite the flashes of fire, he seemed a lot less intimidating than his reputation. He seemed too flippant. An alien prankster, with nothing better to do.

But now she knew that he had lost his race. All his family, his friends. His entire species, his planet, everything he had ever known. Even though it was some kind of front, how could he act so free? She’d seen what happened when it slipped. Yet he tried to be cordial, without wiping her from existence.

Why?

It made her blood boil, actually, just thinking about what this implied. Was he flippant towards her because she wasn't worth his time? Or did the Doctor not feel the loss of his race as much as he'd claimed in that one dark moment? Tak was a very firm believer in the idea of feeling loss, great or small. She knew she still felt hers and her less than upbeat attitude spoke volumes about what she thought about the universe.

Anger steadying her resolve once more, she clenched her hands into fists. “We carry on, as usual.” she instructed. “We don’t act worried or intimidated and when he wakes, I'll talk to him. I want to see if I can convince him to let me take Zim down. He seems sympathetic enough to hear me out at least.”

The Irken reached into one pocket and pulled something out. One of the little infrasound generators she had placed all around Bloaty's Pizza Hog to deter Zim and anyone else interested in her operations. The Doctor had given this to her after taking it out of her robots. She rolled it between her fingers, then let it tumble to the floor.

“Empty his pockets. Confiscate his equipment and destroy any of the infrasound generators that he might have with him. He could have done something with them, something to use against us.” she ordered, crushing the little device under her heel. The metal and plastic sparked once, then was crushed to broken components.

“That's more like it. At least now I won't have to take the reigns of this operation myself.” the computer said, satisfied. “Anything else?”

Tak's ignored the comment. Though her attitude was steely again, it was focused entirely on her captive. She wasn’t afraid, not any more. Now, Tak was angry about the entire situation and anger gave her focus. It was just typical, her luck turning out like this.

Yes, a cosmic god or its equivalent had appeared on her doorstep. Yes, her SIR unit knocked him out and her computer tried to torture him. Yes, he would likely be furious when he awoke for those reasons alone. But she had just rolled over at the whole prospect and was almost willing to surrender, rather than face the Doctor's wrath. That wasn't like her at all, not in the slightest.

Annoyed at herself, Tak was dimly aware of her computer scoffing when no further instructions came, likely thinking her creator had gone back to being overly cautious. She ignored the downloaded personality again.

The Irken woman was too busy glaring at the Doctor, the ultimate spanner-in-the-works, the most meddlesome force in all of creation with undisguised determination and fury.

Because now, despite all her anger, she had a feeling that he was about to ruin everything for her as well.

#Doctor Who #Invader Zim #Crossover #Fanfiction #Interlopers Invaders Investigators and Doom #Chapter 8 #IIID #I KEPT MY PROMISE ABOUT RELEASING BEFORE FLORPUS EVEN IF IT WAS JUST BY A FEW HOURS! #I've been away for so long that the page break function got removed from the default text editor #not to mention links #oh well that's why I've got a hotbar set up for it #I'd also like to note that IIID has been through two IZ revivals now and at least 3 Doctors (including the current one) #heck 4 if you count the War Doctor #anyway here's hoping to more frequent updates #if Florpus doesn't break me that is #but we'll see

[saintheartwing]

Invader Zim: DON’T READ THIS BOOK

I made this little story in honor of the release of “Enter the Florpus” a while back, hope you enjoy it!

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Senior was not what you'd call an ordinary Irken, because unlike many, many other Irkens, he had inside him something special...

A conscience.

The metallic computer on his back, embedded deep in his body, the "PAK" as it was called, was designed to try and suppress negative feelings and desires towards the Irken Empire. The rather bug-like, green-skinned, black-antannae-having aliens who's leaders were just taller than everyone had their PAKs work hard to make sure nobody rebelled against the status quo. But the thing was...the "Superior Irken Empire" was stupid. Very stupid and very arrogant. They hadn't bothered to check to see if their PAK's anti-viral software or basic fundamental foundational mainframes were up to snuff. They'd just assumed that, since they'd conquered most of their would-be enemies and allies, what did THEY have to worry about people trying to infect or fiddle with PAKs?

They were wrong. Now there was a growing host of Irkens who were beginning to think different, and Senior, the Senior Communications Officer of the Massive, was one of them.

And he loved Earth, especially it's culture. He loved its art, he loved its music, he loved its movies, he loved its games. He could play them for a hundred years and not ever get bored. It was difficult, however, to sneak things from the black market that sold Earthen items onto the Massive if you weren't careful, and even MORE so now that the black market had had to pick up and move, and he hadn't found the new location yet.

So that was why he was standing not even at a secondhand store...but some dingy, pathetic-looking hole in the wall on the East side of Conventia, the Convention Planet. The place appeared to be devoted to secondhand items, mostly clothing and the like. Not that Senior needed it. Irkens only really wore one type of clothing depending on their job, and he had a communication officer's garb.

Black gloves, black boots. Faintly bellbottom-esque pants and a green long-sleeve shirt with a grey undershirt that slid up the neck, with a green "mask" that only covered the lower region of his face, with a communication officer's personalized headset, which wrapped itself around his head, the ends placed on either side of his "ears". His shoulder and arm sections were a darker shade of green than the "half mask" and chest and pants he had, and his eyes were also a beautiful and entrancing shade of green as well as he looked around the shop. The storekeeper, a faintly yellow-eyed, rather unfortunate-looking Irken, pled for Senior to look around and see if he could find something of use.

So Senior, feeling sorry for the rather run-down shop and the shopkeeper, peered about the shelves, the counters, the racks, and...he noticed something. Something that had a kind of magnetic quality to it. A volume of some kind, a book on a low shelf that was gathering dust. He plucked it off the shelf, and looked it over. It wasn't thick, that was for sure, and not tall in height either. It appeared to be bound in some kind of leather, but the leather of some sort of animal he didn't recognize. Normal Earthen leather was brown, most types were brown, this was...purplish/black and with an odd texture to it at that!

There wasn't any title or inscription, but there was an inch wide iron strap runnning completely around the book that kept it shut and locked, for a small, rusty iron padlock of antique design was hooked through a hasp where the ends of the iron strap overlapped. "Mind explaining where this came from?"

"Oh, it's from Earth, sir. A volume of the utmost rarity. I snuck it out of a hotel room. You see, the rpevious owner had vanished from his hotel room, and nobody ever saw him again. While the authorities were trying to decide what counted as evidence, yours truly snuck the book out because it looked so fascinating!" The yellow-eyed Irken said with a grin.

Indeed, there were actually quite a few aliens on Earth, Irkens included, and not just...ZIM. They were trying to eek out a living away from the typical issues that came with being in the Empire, and selling Earthen things to tourists or the like was a simple, easy way to do so. Especially since so many Earth people were idiots, who couldn't recognize when someone was an alien!

Senior opened up the book, the iron hinge at the back moving without much difficulty, and his heart almost leapt into his mouth. At the top of the very first page was Latin. An ancient language, a dead one, and he knew what it said. "Recipes and Conjurations, Volume 1". He'd been using Latin as a way to pass notes around the Massive to his dear friends who felt very much like he did, and teaching them how to read it. The Tallest, his bosses, sure as hell couldn't read it and neither could any of their loyalists, it was, after all, a filthy huuuuuuuuuman thing. Who gave a shit?

But he could read it very well. This book looked very promising. There were tantalizing headings. "To Be Invisible", "To Make A Demon Bring Three Bags of Gold", "To Make Three Women Appear in Your Room". Intriguing indeed. FLIP-FLIP-FLIP!

He flipped through the pages, looking at what laid within when he stopped, eyes wide at the picture that laid in the center of the book. It was a very well-painted, beautifully detailed picture indeed, and though the parchment of the book was faded, the brilliant colors of the hungry and somewhat small-looking dragon within were undimmed. Wow, the thing was U-G-L-Y, it ain't got no alibi, you ugly, hey-hey, you UGLY. Bright yellow eyes, wicked claws, green, mossy scales on its body, a thick red tail, curled around a rather horrific amount of skulls in the back-

HUMAN skulls. And one of them looked rather fresh, the others looked old, somewhat cracked or dusty and the dragon itself wasn't as thin as he'd thought, in fact, it sort of had a very faint bulge to its gut.

What if?...no, that was ridiculous, a silly idea.

...but still...

"Any...um...other books like this in your store? It says "Volume 1", I wondered if..."

"No, afraid not."

"Okay. Tell you what. I'll give you fifty for it." Senior offered.

Soon he was walking out of the store, and sneaking the book into the Massive under his shirt, feeling very satisfied as he headed to his room, looking through the book in his lovely white bedroom as he laid on his bed and rested his body on the comforter blankets he had. "Hmm." He titled his head to the side, examining it closely. He poured over the book for a good hour before returning to the Bridge, where the Tallest were waiting.

Uh oh. They had that look in their eye. Both the Tallests had thin claws sticking out of their gauntlets, they'd cut off their thumb when they'd become Tallest. They had big round chest compartments, a thin "stomach" region that was almost like a ribcage riding down from the chest to their lower bodies, held under a sort of "dress", or a robe. They were very tall too, Senior was a good six foot three, but the Tallest were six foot six. Red and Purple, named after their eye color and having armor coloring to match, were grinning evilly.

"We KNOW you snuck something onto the ship." Red said with a dark chuckle. "We caught you this time! Purple here actually noticed the bulge in your pants."

"...why were you looking at my pants?" Senior inquired, raising a nonexistent eyebrow up into the air.

Purple immediately blushed. "That's not important." He said quickly. "Although you've a lovely set of eyes. At any rate, what is it? Remember what happened the last time you snuck some Earthen junk onto the ship?"

"Yeah, I had to share." Senior sighed. He'd tried to sneak a bunch of Earthen candy and everything onto the Massive once. He'd WANTED to send it to his wife and children, Vortians, a grey-skinned race with goat-like horns and springy legs but the Tallest had caught him and he'd been forced to give up his candy to them. "It's just a book." He muttered. "It's not anything you'd be interested in, I mean, it's all in Latin."

"Hey, we're not stupid!" Purple insisted, giving Senior a glower as he folded his arms over his chest and glowered. "We've been learning Latin ourselves, y'know! We managed to find a crumbled-up translation key in the garbage while Red and I were in the cafeteria and looking for somebody to stick garbage duty on. We're pretty good at it now! So hand it over."

Senior sighed as he reached into his pocket and pulled it out, the Tallest examining the book, stopping at the picture of the dragon. "...myyyyyy myyyyyyyyy." Red whispered. "What is this creature?"

"They call it a "dragon", right?" Purple remarked, raising a nonexistent eyebrow up as he looked it over as he sniffed at the book's cover. "...YECH. I recognize that smell. This "leather" isn't "leather"! It's SKIN! Somebody's skin!"

Senior gagged in disgust, wiping his gloved hands on his shirt, cringing, sticking his long, wormlike tongue out of his mouth. "YECCCHH!"

"EW!"

"GROSS!"

"BLAUGH!" The other crew mates on the bridge all looked disgusted. But one of them, Dyte, an Elite Guard who wore thick armor and a metallic facial mask over her lower head much like Senior did, looked intrigued.

"How do you know what human skin smells like?" She quietly inquired.

Purple blushed again. "Well, um...we, uh...we get stuff off the black market too...Zim sent us up this really irritating kid with an overly cheery smile for an experiment and he said he wanted us to see him replace the kid's brain with a probe, so..."

"And that's what happened to my cranial cavity!" Nick remarked cheerily to the guidance counselor at school, who was projectile vomiting in the nearby bathroom. "The Tallest cooked and ate my brain with a light wine sauce! The red one kept calling me "Clariiiice" and laughing evilly, too. Purple only really "likes the skins" though, so he got to-"

"OH GOD PLEASE I'VE NOTHING LEFT TO THROW UP BUT MY NUTS-BLAAAAUHGGGKK!"

"We think we'll keep this." Red said with a laugh as he and Purple headed back for their room, looking over the book, leaving poor Senior and the crew to manage the bridge as they poured over the tome. Yes, it was bound in human skin, and older than the 18th century. There was an inscription faintly faded on the inside cover of the story that read "Open not this book twixt dusk and dawn, lest you unleash the Devil's spawn."

The book was indeed full of magical recipes and conjurations but the REQUIREMENTS were rather difficult. One of them, for example, to get a demon to give you three bags of gold, asked that you get fat melted from the hand of someone hanged upon a gibbet! You poured the fat into a salt circle and the demon would appear and drop off the bag of gold. You had to have the salt circle, or the demon would drag you down to Hell!

But of course, that picture of the dragon really drew their attention most of all. Those green scales, those long, bluish/black claws it had! It had a foul, wicked-looking set of black wings, scarlet filaments dangling from its head almost like seaweed, its eyes a bright yellow, with sickeningly dark red pupils. The thing squatted on a tiled floor of stone, jaws slightly agape, its expression rather ravenous despite looking like it had just eaten not that long ago. Behind the dragon laid the skulls, thirteen of them, all done with such detail it was creepy, and the discoloration on some of them clearly showed a few were older, others were not. The accuracy was creepy to the Tallest, though they'd seen plenty of dead bodies and the like and had no problem making others suffer, there was...just...something. Something about the picture that seemed eerily real and freakish.

"Let's study this." Red insisted. "There's gotta be a spell in here that we can try out."

The two stayed in their rooms, ordering dinner to be brought TO them as they kept pouring over the pages. About half an hour later, poor, beleaguered Senior was knocking on their door, a tray loaded up with food for the Tallest to enjoy. But...they didn't answer.

Senior had a creeping and unpleasant feeling rising in him. He gulped nervously, and then put the tray down, slowwwwwly opening up the door.

They were...gone. The room was an absolute wreck. Chairs had fallen over, the window that looked out at the expanse of space beyond had almost cracked open, the bookcase had fallen, the bed was torn up, the carpeting had big gashes in it, and...the Tallest's PAKs laid on the ground to the side, as if...spat casually out like watermelon seeds.

The book laid on the floor in the middle of it all.

Senior decided he was not going to pick the damn thing up tonight. He slammed the door shut and raced off, and he headed to bed, burying his face in his pillow, and trying very hard not to think about what had happened to the Tallest. Trying VERY hard and failing.

Come the next day, Senior spoke to the crew of the Massive. With the Tallest gone, HE was now the Tallest on the ship. And they needed to decide what to do. First order of business...

ZIM could have the stupid book. So they'd teleported it to his house, and the small, ruby-maroon-eyed Invader eagerly accepted the "gift" from his Tallest as Senior informed him that they'd have a long chat about the new state of things later. Still, Senior wasn't a cruel person. Even if he was furious with Zim for stupidly getting Tallest Miyuki and Spork killed, even if he thought Zim was a jerk, a selfish monster with an ego the size of a planet who'd gotten Senior's favorite boss, the woman he'd loved as dearly as a sister, killed...

"...look, Zim...don't...open that book between dusk and dawn on Earth. It's...what? 6 in the morning and 8 at night? Don’t look at it night, don't open it up then, alright?" Senior said. "Just don't."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, sure!" Zim said in his rather loud voice, looking very certain of himself as he examined the book. It was a good thing it was already past dusk now. "I'll be fine!" He said as he looked over the picture of the dragon. "Oooh, that's one VERY nice dragon. I should make my own!"

"Yeah, quite a nasty-looking thing, huh? Sort of a lean, mean green eating machine." Senior confessed.

"Not that "lean", really." Zim confessed as Senior gulped.

"...oh? Wh-what's it look like?"

"Well, he still looks hungry alright, though he's not thin or skinny. Kind of tubby a bit, yeah, bit of a bulge to his gut. And there's fifteen skulls in the back and the dragon also looks kind of...well, smug!" Zim laughed. "Sort of reminds me of myself!"

Senior looked very pale. "Uh...w-well, um...g-good luck! Bye!" He said, cutting the call off, as Zim was left alone with the book as he poured over it even more, grinning at the insides as the computer translated the Latin for him.

"Oooh, so I have to get fat from the hand of a man hung from a gibbet...computer! What's a gibbet? I need a gibbet!" Zim proclaimed dramatically.

Zim spent a good deal of the night reading through the book, eagerly imagining what sort of nasty stuff he could do and what he could summon. He especially wanted to try out a spell within the book that involved 18th century German needlework. He'd insert the needles into spots on the filthy DIB'S body and it would summon a demon that would make him king of any land he wanted...complete with a fancy-looking crown too. GIR could keep the crown, his robotic servant liked shiny stuff.

The next morning, the sun bathing its rays through the window, Zim looked at the book. He had closed it three hours earlier, and he knew that he wasn't supposed to open it again, and he didn't carry a backpack he could stick the thing in. Plus, his pants pockets weren't big enough to hold the book. Still, he wanted to keep reading it...and more importantly, he wanted to capture Dib and show him in excruciating detail what he intended to do to the black, scythe-haired young lad. So he put the book down atop a nearby table, putting a glass of soda on top of the picture of the hungry dragon as he headed off for the laboratory, going to take the elevator in the toilet. "GIR! Go fetch me the Dib immediately! I must be ready for him!"

"Okeydokey!" GIR said, the little blue-eyed robot saluting cheerily and sauntering out the door, Zim rubbing his clawed, black-gloved hands together as he headed down into the laboratory as the rays of the sun filtered through the window and onto the table.

Thus, he didn't hear the crash of the glass as it fell off the floor a little while later.

...

...

...

...Dib was astounded to see what he saw when GIR brought his tied-up form to the house. There was broken glass all over, the tables had been ravaged along with the couch, tears and scratches and slashes all over the carpet and walls, and windows had been broken into chunks, and Zim's PAK laid to the side, as if it was a wad of trash just tossed to the side. GIR looked around in confusion, finally racing to the television, embedded in the wall as if tossed at something in a panic, and he began sobbing. "OH THE HUMANITY!" he cried out as Dib nervously gulped and then tried to speak up, to address Zim's computer system embedded in the house.

"What...happened?" He inquired as he finally wriggled free of the poorly-tied ropes he was stuck in.

But the computer was silent. Something had clearly damaged it. And...a book laid nearby. Dib looked it over, picking it up, cringing. Ugh, the thing was made of human skin and what was this picture? A dragon, and...wow. WOW, he looked smug. A jolly little fat beast, a grin on him from ear to ear. Dib glanced around the room, looking down at the book, and then at...the pile of skulls...in...the back of...

His eyes went wide. He slammed the book shut, and he took off his belt, wrapping it firmly around the book and he barreled out of the house, and headed off for a long-since abandoned house. He stuffed the book inside the decaying couch, ignoring the hissing cockroaches that laid all about, and the glasses-wearing young lad barreled out the door, not stopping to look back.

The house remained untouched for the next few weeks, and then, one night, a terrible storm happened. A bolt of lightning struck the house, and it went up in blazes, reduced to a heap of charred beams and powdery ashes.

People crowded all about the ravaged house, Dib included, as his eyes slowly widened behind his glasses, Professor Membrane and Gaz looking on, intrigued as well. His dad and sister could see something was VERY off...because what laid in the wreckage of the burned up house was a pile of skulls. Skulls not only of human origin, but of distinctly...something else. And not just those skulls, but a great amount of bones nearby that were more obscure in origin.

Professor Membrane immediately cordoned off the place and took claim over the spot. Nobody contested this. He was, after all, THE Professor Membrane. He took the bones to his laboratory for research and within a few days, and with Dib helping him, Dib occasionally giggling for some reason over one PARTICULAR skull indeed, snorting a bit as he held the skull up and made it "talk" in a high pitched, irritatingly arrogant voice, he made an announcement.

The skulls were, indeed, not all human. Some of them appeared to be...mutant. Some kind of mutant bug, an offshoot of the insect race that had gotten to human size. Thank goodness they were dead! Who knew what horrors they'd unleash if they ever met any unfortunate human, insects that size would destroy the whole world! Dib didn't seem to mind this, since he'd been the one to suggest that they were insectoid to begin with. In fact, he'd gotten even more praise from his father by suggesting he knew where they could find where the things were hanging out. Zim's house was picked clean within a day, and a VERY happy-looking Dib got to keep GIR and Zim's other robotic servant, Minimoose, for himself.

They didn't mind. After all, he had cable. And Dib got praise for having realized all along that his neighbor Zim was actually an EVIL MUTANT INSECT BENT ON TAKING OVER THE WORLD! Dib suggested that Zim and several other mutants had been gobbled up by a "superpredator" that had burnt alive within its lair inside the abandoned house, and there, but for the grace of god, went them.

They couldn't quite identify what the predator was though. Professor Membrane finally threw up his hands and suggested it was some kind of saber-toothed tiger, a leftover from an age long gone by that had eaten up quite a few people indeed. And based on the dental records, it had been all over the country! Thank goodness it was dead and gone.

But when Dib got a call from a frequent customer of his, someone who was happy to buy up Dib's recorded television shows like Mysterious Mysteries and the memorabilia it had, something wiped the smile off his face that had been there ever since that house had burned down.

"So...he's really gone?" Senior quietly asked.

"Yep! He's not only merely dead, he's really most sincerely dead!" Dib laughed as he sat at his desk, looking at his computer screen.

"I'm just glad that damn book is gone." Senior confessed, now sitting in the main chair of the bridge, on his way to the Tallest homeworld. There were gonna be some changes now that he was in charge! "It can't hurt anyone else."

"Do you know who wrote it?" Dib wanted to know. "Did you ever read enough of it to find that out?"

"No clue. But I'd keep your eye out just in case. Reach out to your contacts, and keep a look out, just in case-"

"In case what?" Dib asked, chuckling a bit. "The book's gone! That dragon's gone."

Senior looked at him, looking surprised. "Didn't you read the title?"

"No?"

"Recipes and Conjurations, Volume 1. VOLUME ONE, Dib."

Dib's face turned pale.

#fanfiction #fanfic #Invader Zim #Zim #Dib #horror #comedy #Senior