This is the second to last chapter. But the one after this is really just a conclusion, maybe half a page long. Almost done!

Disclaimer- I own nothing except for plot.

Chapter 6- Defeated

Dib slammed the front door behind him, sending vibrations through the walls and rattling the windows. A muffled 'clunk' turned his attention to the dark carpet under a wall shelf. Dib stalked over to the space and glared down at a hard plastic figurine of his father.

A low growl rumbled in his throat. "Science…" he snarled. He bent down and picked the figure up, grasping it tightly in anger. "Keep your frickin' science!" He spun around and chucked the figure at a window across the room. The window shattered, and Dib sprinted up the stairs, taking them easily two at a time.

He slammed the door to his bedroom. All the slamming doors helped ease some of his anger, but not enough.

"You won't destroy me… you won't destroy me…" Dib murmured repeatedly in a mantra to the alien he could feel but not see.

"You can't stop me now, Dib." Zim's voice replied darkly. "You're too far gone." He burst out in his malicious laugh.

Dib stumbled backward, hit the door, and slid down it to sit, huddled, on the floor. He put his hands to his ears trying to block out that horrible laughter, but it didn't help. Meanwhile his eyes were flicking around the room, desperately looking for a way to stop Zim one last time.

Light glinted off something metallic under his bed. Dib stared at the glimmer a few moments as his mind processed what it was.

…The knife.

Slowly, Dib got to his feet and walked over to his bed, his eyes fixed on the shining blade. He knelt down on the floor and carefully pulled the short sword out of its hiding place. He sat down on the floor, the knife in his lap, staring at the weapon. He felt hypnotized by the light glinting off the sharp edge. A few traces of browned blood still clung to it.

"Yes I can," Dib whispered.

"What did you say?" Zim hissed.

"I can still stop you," Dib answered, his voice stronger.

Zim chuckled, "Poor, delusional Dib." Dib looked up quickly; the Irken was sitting on his bed, smirking down at him. Zim shook his head. "His mind is so far gone he can't see when he's beat."

Dib glared at him, full of hatred. "No, Zim," His voice began to rise as he spoke. "You're beat! You've always been beat!" Dib was now yelling. "You've never had a plan that's worked! You're a failure!"

Zim's eyes widened in surprise, then shrank to thin, furious slits of crimson. A growl resonated from his throat.

"If I'm such a failure, then tell me, how are you going to stop me now, Dib?"

Dib looked back down at the blade in his hands, his face set in the same blank expression it had taken after he'd killed Zim. He took the knife in his right hand and raised it up next to his head.

"Dib's gone," He whispered. Zim looked confused.

In a series of swift motions, Dib grabbed his scythe of hair in his left hand and slashed the knife through it an inch from his scalp. Long strands of blue-black hair drifted to the floor around him.

Zim cocked an eyebrow at the severed hair. "That's it?" He asked. "That's your brilliant plan to defeat me? Cutting your hair?" Dib stood up and set the knife on his pillow. Zim stared at the knife an unreadable expression on his green face. Dib ignored this and moved over to his closet.

"I'm not done yet," he murmured. He put his hand on the ID sensitive lock, the doors slid open, and Dib began tearing shirt after shirt off the hangers, then throwing them back into the closet. He pulled out a plain black shirt, studied it, and then let it drop to the floor beside him. He pulled his old black trench coat off himself and threw it to the floor behind him as if it had burned him; he did the same with his blue smiley-face shirt.

Zim watched him do this with curious interest. He looked down at the small pile of Dib's favorite clothes; when he looked back up, Dib was wearing the plain black shirt. Zim watched as Dib flung his glasses against the wall, they smashed to wire and shards of glass on the floor.

Dib stumbled to his desk and rummaged around in the drawers, nearly blind. A moment later, he pulled out a small, white, eight-shaped object. It took him a few impatient minutes to get the contacts in his eyes. When he finally did, he turned back to Zim.

"Are you done now?" Zim asked, looking over a young man who barely resembled his enemy.

"Almost," Dib growled. He snatched the knife from his pillow and attacked his trench coat and blue shirt, slashing them to shreds. A few stabs reached into the floor, pulling up pieces of dark blue carpet and a few splinters of wood.

Zim watched it all with a growing grin.

When the coat and shirt were reduced to scraps of useless cloth and loose strings, and the floor was deeply scarred, Dib sat back against the bed, breathing hard. He threw the knife across the room and closed his eyes.

"Done?" Zim asked again. Dib just nodded. Zim smirked. "So, explain to me how this little show has stopped me."

Dib took a few deep breaths. "You can't destroy me," he murmured. "If I already have."

Zim just grinned and faded away.

One chapter left. I might get it up tonight.