Das Brainfeast!
Synapsis: The ultimate zombificent fanfic for uber zombie fans! When Zim unwittingly unleashes a plague of zombies, only to find that the living dead have no concept of a master, he is forced to team up with Dib, just-arrived Tak, and a small group of unwilling (and unlikely) zombie-hunters to stop the undead from turning mankind into fast food. But even with the help of Bill, the overzealous paranormal investigator, GIR, whose lack of brains may be his greatest asset, and Agent Romero, a shady member of the Swollen Eyeball Network, can they stop the zombies before humanity is consumed by the horror? Look for a ton of homages to some of my favorite zombie movies and video games including "Night of the Living Dead", "Undead", "Dawn of the Dead", "Resident Evil", and more.
CHAPTER 1: Dib and Marion
A cardboard werewolf loomed menacingly at the treeline, its blood-caked jaws open in a fierce snarl, its claws extended, ready for a kill. Suddenly, there was a crisp "crack", and a small hole appeared in the werewolf's head, centered perfectly between the eyes. Another crack, and a second hole appeared in the werewolf's chest, just over the heart. Two more cracks in rapid succession, and two more holes in the kill zone over the ravenous beast's heart.
Dib lowered the .22 caliber pistol, and smiled appreciatingly at his work. Now that the young paranormal investigator was getting a little older, he realized that her lacked the combat training that may save his life if he ever had a run in with a vampire, werewolf, or anything else that stalked the night and might not take too kindly to him pursuing it. He laid the semi-automatic pistol on the shooting bench, and ran a hand through his black hair, pressing down his ever-present scythe-like lock of hair for only a second. He ejected the pistol's clip, and loaded four small bullets into the slim magazine, before sliding back into the firearm. He turned to the bearded man in denim coveralls behind him.
"Wow. I think I'm getting alot better now, Mr. Marion." He said proudly. The strongly-built man looked downrange at the target, and back to the bespectacled youth before him.
"Yeah." He said lowly. "Two rounds in the heart, and fast too." Marion spoke with a slight Australian accent. "Now, try it with two, like I showed you." Dib straightened the collar of his black trenchcoat. He was lucky to have found Mr. Marion. He had been teaching Dib the art of shooting for two months now at his cabin in the woods, and already Dib was showing a natural talent for it. The only thing Dib didn't like about his teacher, was that Marion seemed a little paranoid at times, talking often about zombie fish and alien acid rain. He claimed he was attacked by aliens while fishing. Dib badly wanted to believe him, but with Marion, sometimes it was a bit...difficult. He picked up the pistol in his right hand, and pulled a matching weapon from a tactical holster on his left leg. He took aim like Marion had taught him, and fired three rounds from each gun, letting one round off as realigned the sights of the other. All six rounds hit the cardboard werewolf in the chest.
"Keep it up." Marion said in his trademark accented mutter. "Don't slow your firing." Dib emptied both clips into the target, hit the release buttons, and let the magazines fall from the pistols onto the bench. The werewolf target was peppered with holed in its head and heart regions. "You did good." Marion said. If Dib hadn't known him so well, he probably would have thought he was lying, but Marion always sounded unemotional. At first, when he had been trying to find someone willing to teach him to shoot and fight, and had came across Marion, he had been a little wary of the man. The, he'd realized that the two shared alot in common. Both believed that the Earth was in jeopardy from alien attackers, and both felt is was their lone duty to defend mankind from whatever strange dangers the paranormal could throw at them.
Dib holstered the pistols, and unbuckled the black nylon police-issue pistol belt from his waist, laying it on the bench. He noticed that Marion had a look on his face that was more solemn than usual.
"Hey, is something wrong?" Dib asked. Marion sighed.
"Dib," He said. "I'm going to be leaving tonight. I'm going back to Australia, and try to patch things up with my wife. I just want to say that is's been good having somebody around who doesn't think I'm crazy like everyone else."
"Yeah," Dib said, dissapointingly. "I know what you mean." He pulled the belt off of the wooden bench, and handed them to Marion. "You'll probably be wanting these back." Marion gave a small smile, a rare thing for the man.
"No. You can have them. You've gotten so good with them, it would be wrong not to let you keep them."
"But..." Dib began.
"Don't worry. Remember, I have a gun shop back home." Dib looked at the two target-model pistols. 'They were probably really expensive', he thought. He looked back up at Marion.
"Thanks." Dib said, a grateful smile on his face. "And thanks for the training."
"No problem." Marion replied, stoical as usual. He looked up at the sky. "It's getting late. Let me give you a lift home."
Dib stepped from Marion's beat-up pickup truck onto the sidewalk outside his house. He held a cardboard box containing the pistols, extra magazines, the holsters, and some other gear Marion had graciously given him. He turned and closed the door.
"I guess this is goodbye." He said. Marion nodded in affirmation.
"Yeah." Marion said. "Good luck, Dib. And remember, as bad as the aliens are...their zombies are alot worse." Dib smiled as the truck chugged off. From the direction he was headed, Dib guessed that he was going to the docks. Probably taking a ship home, he figured. He sighed, and walked into his house.
Gaz sat on the couch, playing "Area 51" on her Gameslave. Dib glanced at the television. There was a movie on, something with Ving Rames and Sarah Polley in a shopping mall. Ving looked like a cop. Dib started up the stairs, carrying the box.
"Home from your playdate with your crazy friend?" Gaz asked, not looking up from her video game.
"Marion's not crazy." Did said defensively. "He's just a little...wierd."
"Whatever." Gaz replied uncaringly. Dib climbed the stairs, and entered his room, locking the door behind himself. He lay the box on his bed, and opened it. With care, he removed both holstered pistols. He scoffed lightly. He thought about it for a minute, then realized that he could never use them against Zim. He felt that it would be...well wrong. One of the first things Marion had told him was that 'Guns aren't there simply to make things better. By the time you have to use a gun, things had already gone to Hell.' Zim? Well, Zim wasn't nearly dangerous enough to warrant using violence on. He placed the weapons and other gear in a wooden box, and slid it under his bed. 'In fact', Dib wondered, 'what has he been doing for the past few weeks?'
Alright, enjoy the first chapter? The good stuff's coming, I promise. I just didn't want Dib to seem OOC and mary-sue by having some ability with weapons, and felt I should explain how he had aquired the skills to begin with. If you're a zombie-movie idiot, then Marion is a character from "UnDead", one of the greatest B-flick zombie-fests ever made. If you haven't seen it, go rent it. Now! I command you! His lines about 'zombie fish' are from the movie. The movie on the tele, if you havent guessed, is the remake of "Dawn of the Dead", again, one of the best zombie ficks out there. "Area 51", a cool arcade game makes a cameo appearance as well. The line Dib recalls Marion telling him was actually said to me by my shooting instructor, and unless you fully understand those words, never, ever think about even looking at a firearm. Well, we can't have the authors notes be longer than the chapter, so until chapter two, cheerio.