Return (Invader Zim Fanfic)

3

"ZIM!" Dib accused, "I should have known it was you!"

"Yes, Dib Stink!" Zim triumphed, "It is I Zziiiiiiim! Now face our DOOM!"

At the word "doom," Moogan began to make a humming sound. The sound rose in volume and in pitch, quickly culminating in a screeching laser of light that headed squarely for Dib. It knocked him square on the head, nailing his bruise from earlier.

Dib cried out in pain! "Auughh!" He fell hard, his tail bone making solid, forceful contact with the cement. He yelped in pain again.

"Yes! Moogan!" Zim raised his hands outward in a gesture of malice. "Finish him off!"

Moogan opened her mouth again, with the same horrible, unearthly sounds as before. Her lasers charged and she let off a second shot. At the speed of light, it travelled towards Dib, but, as dazed as he was from the first shot, Dib was ready this time. He dived out of the way of the blast, unfortunately, he was unable to land properly. As he sprang to the side, the weight of his body landing came down on his left wrist with all of its force. The wrist made a gut wrenching crack and Dib cried out loudly.

He tried to push himself back onto his feet with his right arm, but his wimpy, nerdy limb couldn't handle the weight without its now broken and useless life partner.

Dib fell back onto the floor, his nose bumping the cement. He didn't even register the pain in his nose; all of his reception was focused on the agony in his wrist. Zim stood over him, his malevolent smile as wide as his facial muscles could possibly allow.

"Any last words, pathetic human worm-baby?"

Dib spoke muffledly into the cold floor, "you won't get away with this."

Zim stood back and blinked. "...Dib I cant understand you with your face in the floor."

Dib turned his head to face Zim. "I said, 'You won't-"

Dib's words were cut off by a loud crash and the crunching of metal. With difficulty Dib turned his head to face the opposite direction. His eyes widened at the site of the garage door now bent upward and crunched out of shape. Standing in the opening was a very angry silhouette.