Welcome back to second installment of Invader Scorned. I'm V and with me to do the author notes today are Murasaki and Chaine. [Both wave] Now, instead of further indulging in sadomasochistic necrobestiality with equines—

Chaine: She means "Flogging a dead horse," kids.

*glare* I'm gonna skip the usual round of disclaimers because none of Invader Zim belongs to V. If it were otherwise, I doubt Nick would've let the show be aired...or it get shown on Showtime...

Murasaki: Ain't you gonna talk about the "Proof-reading Fairies"!

No. No I am not. Let's just say that V doesn't have a beta and is too anal-perfectionist to get one, 'kay?

Murasaki: Aw...but I like fairies. [crazed grin] They taste like magic chicken!

(o).(0);;

Chaine: Right... on that note, I'm going. Have fun, monkey-people! leaves

Just one last thingy: The following is V's response to the cult of the "Geek Superhero" plaguing most fandom nowadays. That, and V believes Dib is soo much cooler than Neo. There. I said it! Now, get reading!

An Invader Scorned!

Chapter 2: The Adventures of Buckaroo Dib Across the nth Dimension [The Abridged Version]

To the smelly vapid masses, the life Dib Membrane has lead for the past three years must have seemed like some kind of bizarrely fabulous dream.

After resigning attempts to expose his former archenemy Zim, our beloved bigheaded boy threw himself headlong into other matters of paranormal phenomena. Such was his fervor that, by his 13th birthday, Dib not only revealed the existence of Bigfoot, Nessie, and that feral band of Mall-Rats, discovered the locations of both Atlantis and Mu, thwarted the schemes of no less than seven global conspiracies, and fought off the Brain-rending Ferrets from Dimension Nny, but even earned a smidgen of respect from his father.

A/N: Well, the Professor had stopped publicly denouncing his son's findings as the ravings of a crazed boy-child, so we guess that could be 'respect'. He still shakes his head sadly every time Dib asks to borrow the lab to research his latest findings on "those silly, unscientific things". But this isn't Membrane's story now, is it? So let's go back to Dib.

The next year proved even better for the trench-coated one as he entered Hi-Skool and began the wondrous journey that is PUBERTY. Much to the envy and awe of his classmates, Dib appeared to be one of those lucky few blessed by the Gods of Adolescence to have only the benefits of growth spurts and secondary sexual changes. Almost over night, he went form a mere stink child to glorious MANHOOD without the intervening periods of awkward ugliness.

Oh, sure, the more jealous amongst his peers claimed that Dib used his exceptional intellect to devise a variety of voice-harmonizers, hormone balancing drugs, experimental skin-care products, and other super-weird science procedures to avoid the miseries of pubescence. Still others argued that it was caused by all the strange radiation and Nny!-rays Dib was exposed to during his frequent multi-dimensional jaunts. And still others claimed it was a gift from the Sea-Lords of Atlantis for leading them to victory against the foul tentacle-demons from beyond. And yet even more people say...

But the debate over Dib's blossoming from "that weird kid" into "that Uber-Hot Nerd Guy" doesn't matter. The point is he had made a meteoric leap to the very highest realms of popularity in barely a year. This had the added effect of guaranteeing Dib would never experience of being the first freshman of the year swirlied by Krung Murdock, five-time Junior and voted "Most Brutal Recidivist EVER" by the International Skool-Bully Union. That honor went to Zim, btw. He also set a historic precedent by being the only person ever to get invitations to all the coolest Senior/College kegger parties of the year as soon as he stepped through the Hi-Skool doors . By the time homeroom period ended, Dib's mob of admirers and followers had swollen into the thousands. Within a month, there were at least 42 fan clubs and organizations devoted to solely to him. At the end of the year, some of his more fanatical fans had developed a religion based upon his life called "Dib-anetics".

It was during this time Dib decided, at the tender age of fourteen, to take a break from paranormal investigation and focus upon some of his other interests.

He started out by trying his hand at being a rock-star, putting out the first of three quintuple-platinum albums. While on a brief world-tour to promote "Dagon-W ", Dib penned a rough draft what would be his groundbreaking thesis on how quantum physics could be used to explain and harass the power of the occult for everyday use. Yet he never quite solved the dilemma of what to do with all those Old Ones and other unspeakably eldritch things. Perhaps it was fortunate for the universe at large that Dib choose to listen to his father's advice and publish a heavily censored version instead of the complete text...

Next came the inevitable foray into martial arts, which Dib proved to have amazing skill at. Within a period of ten months, he had become proficient in seven forms of Kung-Fu, Kenjutsu, three kinds of Karate, Tae Kwon Doe, Pentjak Silat, Ninjutsu, Jujutsu, and an ancient style of non-lethal combat developed by the telepathic mystics of Lemuria based on applying pressure to key points on an opponents body to render them incapable of attacking, among other things. He then took his now prodigious knowledge of human anatomy and then applied it, not to the pursuit of combat, but to medicine. Even though his stint in the medical field was a paltry 39 weeks, Dib still managed to earn honorary doctorates in neurosurgery, cardio surgery, psychology, dermatology, forensic pathology, cybernetics, and gynecology.

When he finally returned to the paranormal, Dib once again shocked the world by choosing to become a professional debunker. In what can only be described as one hell of a 180 change of face, everyone's favorite paranormalist geek began ripping apart long-cherished mysteries like that of Blorch, Pig-foot, Madame Minnie's Mystic Specter Review, and the infamous Chicken-boy. So zealous was his assault upon long-standing mysteries that the Swollen Eye-ball nearly revoked his lifelong membership after an especially virulent outburst against the "psuedo-intellectual crackpots" that sullied the field of paranormal investigation. It wasn't so much what he said as the fact that Dib dared to name names. They settled instead on having him banned from accessing the web-forum for a month .

But of all the mysterious mysteries in the universe, Dib seemed to have a special loathing for anything involving extraterrestrial.

In fact, one could say that he took sadistic insane glee in disproving each and every piece of evidence presented to prove that there was intelligent life out there in the stars. Crop circles withered and blackened under his venom gaze. U.F.O.'s preferred dissolving into nasty smelling swamp-gas lit by Venus rather than have him see them. . Even Abductors made vast u-turns across the galaxy to avoid facing Dib's mighty wrath. Farmers throughout the land rejoiced for the sharp drop-off in cattle mutilations. That may also have been the leading cause for the rapid decline in anal probes.

Yes, it truly looked as if Dib Membrane (M.D.) was leading a life that only seen in gloriously CGI-ed Sci-Fi /action movies. With his androgynous angst, above-genius I.Q., vast array of MAD SKILLZ, and militant skepticism, it appeared that he was a hero born from the combined genes of luminaries such as Ian Malcolm, Buckaroo Bonsai, Mister Neo Anderson, Dexter, and the entire cast of at least thirty animes.

And now, on the cusp of sixteen, Dib looked back on the sum total of all his accomplishments. The Nobel Prizes, the mystical gifts, the Grammies, the various strange relics, the legions of adoring fans, the ever so willing groupies... Even the mountain of hate mail was proof that Dib had finally achieved the recognition and fame that he had so longed for as a boy. He pondered the sheer mass of success that he had accumulated over the years.

"Damn," he said, finally coming to a conclusion. "My life...Sucks."

Dib collapsed back onto his bed and stared mournfully at the ceiling. "I just can't understand it! All my wildest dreams have come true to an almost obscenely surreal extent. Everything that I could ever have wanted I now have! Fame! Renown! My own two-hour special of Mysterious Mysteries! Yet I just can't get over feeling like my life is empty. Worthless. Devoid of meaning. And I'm still talking to myself."

In a rare lapse back into his old paranoia, Dib suddenly wondered if the past three years were just another illusion created by...by...

Turning his head, the young hero stared at his closet door.

Slowly, Dib rose from his bed and walked across the room in a drawn out pan . He reached for the knob as time stretched like a nasty string of cheap berry-banana bubblegum. The scene went through at least 30 different, rapid-fire changes in viewing angles when his hand closed about the round metal. Somewhere, an ominous soundtrack kicked in, complete with a choir of evil monk , pulsing drums, and a bass-guitar. In a violent P.O.V. shift, the sound dropped out and Dib wrenched the door open.

There, hidden behind a Fender guitar and several cases of industrial strength hair-gel, was a small filing cabinet. For years it had stood there, rusting and forgotten, waiting hopelessly among the "Happy-Noodle Boy" shirts and surplus trench coats. In its own inanimate way, the cabinet implored Dib with metally puppy eyes.

Did he dare?

Kneeling down, Dib brushed away a ream of dust and deployed a lock-pick from his finger. (He had replace his left arm with a cybernetics after a very embarrassing incident involving a hamster and a wood-chipper.) Corroded from long neglect, the drawer squeaked sullenly as he pulled it open. He took out one of the manila folders brimming with stuff and laid it open on his lap. After all this time...

Amidst the hasty notes and thumbnail sketches, various snapshots of Zim stared up him. There was Zim being wedgied by Tork Smakie, Zim trying to hide his face, Zim glaring, Zim getting hit by water-balloons, Zim laughing and aiming a laser at the camera, Zim eating waffles with his robot-slave, Zim dressed up as a hobo, Zim wearing a wedding-dress...

"Hey Dib!" barked Gaz, marching into his room. "When are you coming out of the closet?"

"WHAT!" He tipped the filing cabinet over as he whirled around, catching a drawer of VENGANCE to the back of the head. Wincing in pain, Dib glared at his (probably) demonic sister.

With unusual mercy, because she was at that tricky level of Tomb 6: The Rending, Gaz ignored him and repeated, "When are you coming out of the closet? Skool starts in about 2 hours."

"Eh?" He looked up at her, righting the cabinet. "But it's only a 10 minute walk away."

"Yah. If you're not fighting off ninjas, mutant zombies, and legions of screaming fan-girls, that is."

Dib sighed, gather up the spilt contents of the Zim folder. "We could use dad's teleporter..."

"NO! We've always walked to Skool together. We walked to Pre-Skool together. We walked to Kinder-Garden together. And we shall continue to walk to Hi-Skool together. Or else..." Gaz loomed menacingly over her brother, backlit by the very flames of Hell.

"Okay! Okay! We'll walk!"

The flames vanished.

"Good." She noticed the picture of Zim in drag right as Dib reached for it, raising an eyebrow enough to make her brother clutch the photo to his chest, but just shrugged and went back to her GameSlave. "I'll...save you some Berry Crispy Bleed-o's."

"Uh...thanks." he muttered to Gaz's retreating back.

Feeling flustered, Dib angrily shoved the photo back into the folder, shoved the folder into the drawer, and re-locked the filing cabinet. He hurried out of the closet, slamming the door behind him, and stormed out of his room.

Elsewhere...

In a room deep beneath the Earth crust, a small figure sat before a bank of flickering monitors. Each screen showed a montage of news programs and T.V. specials. There was a special report on an invasion of killer pig-demons, clips from various awards ceremonies, concert footage, music videos, assorted blurbs from the SCIENCE! Channel, medicinal documentaries, and even a bunch of old Mysterious Mysteries episodes. Diverse as their sources may have been, all the clips had one thing in common...

"...and now, once Dr. D. Membrane has removed the cerebral parasite..."

"...live from Kyoto! Dib Membrane and Rob Zombie!..."

"...once again, Dib saves the day."

"...so, tell me, Dib..."

"...Dib... Dib..."

"...DIB..."

" RA-ARRRRRRRGH!"

shink! SMASH! sizzle-sizzle

"Hey!" snapped the computer angrily. "That freaking hurts!"

Growling, Zim drew back his spider-legs and fist. This wasn't the first time he'd smashed out those monitors, nor would it be the last.

Ever since that...that... filthy stink-bastard snubbed him, Zim found his life spiraling completely out of control.

In the beginning, the Invader thought he'd finally be able to complete his mission without that stupid human's meddling. Soon, after several failures involving (among other things) extra-dimensional Ferrets, a pack of ravenous chupacabras, Big-feet, the Dwarves of Munich, and a genetically reconstructed plesiosaur, Zim realized that he needed that scum-beast.

So, bending his GENIUS to the task of winning back the Dib-monster, Zim took it upon himself to harass his rival in every way possible. He entered into infernal alliances with groups like the Elves of Amsterdam, the Random Evil Ninjas Union, the Blorch-ites, and (much to G.I.R.'s glee) the Disciples of the Scary Monkey. He hurled hordes of cyborg monsters at the human. He spiked all the beverages and snacks in the Membrane home with a range of Irken poisons. He released the Devil-moose of Borneo upon the city. Hell, he even stooped to learning "Black Magic" and then unleashed gangs of fiendish cephalopods from BEYOND upon the citizens of that hellish underwater city Dib was so fond of. His nether orifices never quite recovered from that...

And still Dib ignored him! THE GREAT ZIM!

But, after reviewing all those past fiascoes, the extraordinary Irken Invader had at last discovered a way to capture the unswerving attention of his unwitting and bigheaded enemy.

Leaping down from the viewing chair, Zim strutted through his lab. So incredible was his latest plan that he felt like telling someone about it so they could marvel at his greatness. "G.I.R! MINI-MOOSE! COME HERE AT ONCE!"

In flew his two most loyal minions, G.I.R. riding astride Mini-moose's back like a surfer. That alone wouldn't have been so odd except for the fact that the defective A.I. was dress-up in a sailor fuku and neon pink wig while Mini-moose was covered in some sort glittery foam-cloud.

"Konicha wa, Master!" screamed G.I.R as it hit the floor. "We went to this weird convention-thingy with all these funny looking human-monkeys! They were all talking like this: "Eego ga dekiru hito wa imasu ka!" And there were all this strange creatures there too, like the cat-girls, and that funny sword-monster, and those weird little sailor girls... And then this nice lady gave me lots of tasty snacks! She called Moose and me KAWAII! I LOVES HER!"

"Yes, yes... That's all good..." Zim muttered, not hearing a single thing the demented little robot said. "Now, be AMAZED at your master's genius!"

Mini-moose squeaked in joy.

"As you see," he continued as G.I.R. gorged noisily upon Japanese snack-foods. "For years now, our mission on this stench-planet has been impeded by the evil of the DIB-monster. No matter what brilliant plan I come up with, it seems that this Earthen...filth ruins everything. Yet he keeps acting as though I, ZIM, am a non-existent drone creature! Not only does he shun me at Skool, but he won't even acknowledge that, without ZIM, he'd be nothing more than a mere slime-maggot! Was it not my ingenious schemes to conquer this dirtball that forced Dib to become a legend amongst his dim-witted species? Was it not Zim's superior knowledge of superior Irken chemistry that caused the human to avoid the pus-filled trails of maturity! And was it not I who shattered his spine in that freak DEATH-BEE 'accident' so Dib could update his pitiful man-nerves with much more powerful bionics? "

At this point, the Invader had jump upon a workbench covered in snap-shots and magazines with Dib on them to pose dramatically, shaking his fists skyward.

"Do you hear me, earth-boy! It was I, ZIM, who made you what you are today! How dare you, Dib! How dare you continue to mock me with your denials! Fool! I'll show what happens to those who fling the gauntlet of mockery into the face of the Irken Empire!"

"Squeak?"

Grinning madly, Zim looked down at the little flying creation. "Ah, my moose-y friend, don't you understand? Of course you don't! For my GENIUS is just so...awesome that you're little mind would be overwhelmed by the sheer awesomeness. My plan is to beat the worm-baby at his own twisted game. With my stupendous Invader conditioning, I shall BECOME the Dib! And once I have integrated his essence into mine, I shall go BEYOND the Dib! You see, after months of painful research into the Dib's career, I have discovered a way to copy every move he's ever made! The very key to surpassing him has been right in front of me all along, Mini-moose! And, in a delicious reek of irony, the Earth-monkeys themselves will help me overthrow their belovedly Tall Dib. For I shall use my vast array of Earth wisdom to destroy him!"

Laughing manically, he strode over to an elevator platform and sunk further down into the bowels of the base, intent upon putting the final touches on his crazed campaign to finish off the Dib.

With their master's laughter still ringing off the walls, G.I.R. looked up from his mountain of empty and brightly colored snack wrappers. "Wanna go get some more of Pocky, moose?"

"Squeak!"

Mini-moose scooped the insane robot up and they jetted back to the convention hall.

To be continued...