The occult experience
I own the original characters and the concept of this story, I don't own Dib, Zim, Gaz, or anything that exists within the world of IZ. This is the only chapter in which this disclaimer will be posted.
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"Words"
'Thoughts'
Any foreign languages will have forewarning only so long as they are being spoken and will be written in italics.
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Dib had always been a fan of the occult. He was never a fan of religions, or the people that followed them, but he found the stories of gods and demons and angels fascinating. He knew they were almost entirely wrong, and the storytelling in any of the books was below gradeschool quality. That hadn't stopped him from reading any of the books. The christian bible, making instruments of death and torture into holy symbols. The book of mormon, surely written by a drunkard. The koran, it had simply offended his morals.
Dib was most likely one of the most well read in religious theology, and he was still just a preteen. His general distaste for all of the rampant fanaticism extended so far as to make even him a religious skeptic. This did not, however, prevent him from testing any of them for validity. During the cool down between one Zim plot and the next he had tested many of the rituals that involved only spoken word and simple object and he could personaly say with the utmost certainty that they were fake.
There was that one voodoo ritual about reviving chickens and a giant chicken, but he'd just as soon call that one a fluke as admit it worked. Nothing else from that particular tribe had worked, why was that one spell the glaring exception? As much as he wished he really couldn't discount it, the next two times he'd done the ritual it had worked. Not that he'd tell anyone about that.
Right now Zim was most likely resting up some kind of tube, quickly regenerating from their last scuffle. Dib, however, was busy. In his left hand a book, entitled the "Necronomicant, a true guide to the worlds below", and in his right a simple painters brush. He was following very simple, almost stupidly simple instructions, which went as follows.
"Using a simple, easy to make mixture of one half cup of the casters blood diluted in one quart of water (Tap, diluted, sewer, doesn't matter) draw to the best of your abilities a free hand circle. Mark the four cardinal direction (North, east, south, west) in any way you like, so long as you remember which direction is which. Draw a square inside the circle from the cardinal directions, doesn't matter where you start. Inside of the square draw one more square with corners pointing to the northwest, northeast, southeast, and southwest. Inside this final square write your name, given name first, family name last. Expect immediate results from the Dark Secretary. If results are not immediate please wait five minutes before reattempting."
Dib finished the "E" of Dib Membrane with neither flourish nor fanfare, expecting nothing. When the squares seperated, one flying and adhering to the ceiling of his room, the other appearing as a black window on his floor. The circle, floated slowly to the intermediary between the two. From the new hole in his ceiling fell two parallel cords, for whatever reason Dib couldn't tell.
The bottom square expanded massively, pushing the wall of his room away, flattening his bed and desk and computer against the walls. Strangely enough they didn't get crushed, just flat. The cords from above seemed to slowly recoil, bringing up a large, clear box into which he was somehow absorbed, as if the walls for him could be seen, and not touched.
Slowly the elevator, as that's all that the box really could be, came to a stop. There, sitting behind a large, ornate, and unrecognizable wooden desk was a youngish looking nerdy woman. With horns. And a tail. And purple eyes, and leather corset, and black skin. In fact, the only thing that looked nerdy about her where the horn rimmed glasses.
"Dib Membrane?" The way she said it it was obviously a question. He barely managed a paralyzed nod. After a few scrutinizing seconds she fixed him with a fanged smile.
"Didn't expect it ta work, did'ya? Well take a seat, would'ya? That circle ya used is all special, kay? It calls me, gives me some o' ya in-fo-ma-shun, and lets me talk to ya to find out who I can call that is best suited to make your goals come true in as fast a method as possible." Dib stared open mouth at the demoness as she motioned to the chair in front of the desk. He gingerly took the seat as she gave him a fangs not-withstanding beautific smile.
"Tell me about yourself Dib, how would you describe yourself, your goals and dreams, your home and family. Tell me anything you can think of, and I'll try to get the best monster I can to help you with whatever you need."
"I...Err...I" Dib was lost. Something he'd been hunting for, the proof to show everyone he wasn't crazy, was sitting right in front of him. She was sitting right in front of him, asking him to talk to her, being kind to him. This was nothing he'd expected, especially considering he'd expected nothing.
"I live with my dad and little sister." The dark secretary nodded, pushing him to continue. "My teachers a vampire, the people at school hate me, and I think I've seen my dad five times in the last three months. I've lost any respect I used to have for most authority figures in my life, and my nemesis is an evil alien."
"What kind of alien, Dib? Mexican alien, or extra terrestrial alien?" That this dark secretary didn't believe him insane was a major confidence booster for the young boy.
"Extra terrestrial alien, little irkan guy with antennae and metal back pack."
"Technologicaly advanced warrior race of bio-droids, ussualy with servant unit and like the colors red, pink, and purple?"
"That's them, that describes ZiM PERFECTLY! HE'S REAL, REAL I TELL YOU!" Dib screamed from atop the precarious perch on the back of his chair.
"Yes, I am aware of that. Please sit down and stop yelling. Now." Dib did, his face red. "Now I know someone who can fill most of the roles that you'd need filled. Telling you what those roles are would be counterproductive, but expect someone arriving by tommorow morning."
"Wai-" Dib's world went white for a few moments before he was abruptly shunted sideways into reality with a sharp pain in his shins. Dib found himself standing in front of the oven in his home, holding a smoking pan and his sister kicking him.
"Was that a dre- Oww!" Dibs' small moment was abruptly interrupted by another kick to his shins.
"I said supper. Not. Barbecue!" Gaz kicked him again, and Dib found himself back in a normal routine of daily life.
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Dedicated to Dibsthe1