The young man grunted as he wrenched his blade free of the limp body, its lips still pulled back in a final snarl as it thudded into the dust like a discarded ragdoll. Dib tore his face away from the dead Irken, ears once more tuning in the sound of screams, curses and laser shots that formed an unending onslaught of white noise around him. As the last rush of adrenaline ebbed from his system, he straightened his back with some difficulty, grimacing at the slick warmth and pain in several places, where the Irken had left its calling card, to see another figure lurching toward him. Seeing the arrival was human, Dib lowered his weapon and allowed the battered, dirt-caked officer to address him, almost choking out his message between ragged breaths.

"Sir, the enemy has already halved our numbers! We're losing ground, and they'll simply beat us into the dust if we continue like this! I must ask you to consider surr-"

His last word was met with a deep scowl, cutting it off, as Dib shook his head fiercely. "No surrender! Our forces can hang on."

His eyes widened a little when the soldier, rather than accepting his leader's decision, threw a sharp look at the younger man. "You led us into this, Commander Dib. A good leader would have some sense of humanity."

The man turned away resentfully, as his senior stiffened in anger at the blatant show of defiance.

At first Dib believed he was simply losing his grip on the loyalty he'd finally earned from his people, and this had been the main reason for his harsh reaction. But now that the initial, quick charge of adrenaline from the fight had subsided, he was able to look around and see just how bad things were looking. His beaten men lay everywhere; some moaning or crying weakly as they tried to cover wounds, some being dragged out of battle, barely conscious - others eerily still and silent, like broken toys, their limbs splayed in odd positions. Dib had never truly felt pity for, well, anything… to the extent that he did now. A cold stone settled in his stomach as he stared around him; seeing not a valiant uprising against a cruel alien empire, but a picture of utter pain, suffering, despair, anger and above all, fear. He could sense it in his men as they struck out at the tiny, green soldiers that battered right back against them with endless ferocity, saw them faltering, step by step, starting give ground to survival instinct.

But human losses weren't the only ones he could see. The spatters of crimson blood littering the field mingled with pools of translucent pink, and among the dead and dying were broken, insectile figures, the very last breath ripped unceremoniously out of them. While the sea of Irkens surged and attacked steadily in an almost formal manner, as though this battle were no more than a business trip, Dib thought he saw hints of frustration flash up occasionally in their front ranks. The mistiming of a jab, a wrong step – their composure seemed to take a small hit each time they made a mistake. The humans couldn't be the only ones concerned for their losses.

Dib's brain worked overtime. His fighting force had been halved already, and it would only continue to deplete if he ordered the soldiers to keep up the assault. On the other hand, they would also take a heavy toll on the Irkens, and Dib's fight would not be in vain. What should he do? He had led his race into this battle… mess. He was responsible for every last one of them, no matter how badly they'd treated him in the past. He held the cards, could pull the strings in this game of life and death. Only, he wasn't sure at this point whether to draw in the strings or simply cut them. He was already responsible for the deaths of hundreds; could he bear to take more into his hands?

A high-pitched voice rent the air, blasting the cloud of uncertainty in Dib's mind into tiny wisps. That frightening, yet invigorating sound had all his senses snapping to attention instantly, and his eyes swept the chaotic image in front of him before homing in on its source. The slight, yet ferocious little alien's eyes glittered with blood rage, his teeth bared at the human held in his grip. The man struggled and spat angrily before going limp as a mechanical leg slid easily up through his ribcage, and the contemptuous laugh that followed caused rage to inflame every cell of Dib's body.

No. None of this mess was his own doing. The true culprit stood in front of him; Zim had been the catalyst all along, hands down, clear as mud. Dib was simply the messiah. He heard the roar of Zim's name from his own mouth, saw the Invader turn and see him, a scowl of recognition on his face as he shoved the skewered body carelessly to the ground with not so much as a glance, flexing his claws as he stared down his nemesis, grounding himself for the anticipated, and long awaited, final melee.

The young man tensed his muscles in response, instinctively shouting an order for his men to rally up and drive hard into the enemy; not quite knowing why, or how it would possibly do any good – just ordering it to happen. He heard the order echoed in rippling patterns all across the battlefield as his message spread, and the men began to obey, slowly at first, but increasing in pace as they thrust forward, somehow, beginning to prod and eventually puncture the enemy's front line.

Seizing the moment and raising his blade with an animalistic cry, Dib lunged across the battlefield, using the drumming of his boots and years of festering abuse and taunts as a cadence as he charged at the short, green boy named Zim with all his might.


A/N: This was originally meant to be part of an attempted songfic challenge, written to 'Soldier Side' by System of a Down – only the idea got a little stretched .

I apologise for slacking off on other stories. :/ I still plan on continuing IatP; it hasn't died completely. It's just... been rather sick as of late ^^" Additionally, I'm also starting to build up ideas for another chapter story; I believe I made a teaser for it a while back :3

Uh… enjoy XD

Or throw a fish at my head. Whichever you prefer :3

Invader Zim © Jhonen Vasquez