Ch. 2: Sleeper Agent Mothman

Hi Skool, a low, squat, dirt-brown building, was not much different from the Skool Zim had attended before. The alien narrowed his eyes, snorting in disgust to himself. Five years, and the hyumans' facilities of training were still as pathetic as ever...

He shoved through the glass-paned front doors, only to skid to a halt as his alien equivalent of a heart bounced into his throat and beat there like a frantic Earth butterfly.

The Dib's trench coat was everywhere, swishing in front of the long rows of dull gray lockers, twirling to show off for friends, posing for best effect against the walls and lockers...Had the Dib found a way to clone himself and sent his massive Dib army of DOOM to wait in ambush for Zim?

No. No. The more the Irken stared, the more the faces resolved themselves into different pig-human shapes-shapes with a distinct lack of Dib-ness. Zim bared his zipper teeth in fury as the truth became obvious. The symbol of his arch nemesis had become a fashion accessory to the other filth dirt-monkeys! Outraged, Zim shoved his way through the crowd, ignoring the yelps and curses that followed him.

Even with the added hassle of going to the 'front office' to fetch his filthy schedule, Zim was one of the first ones to arrive to his first period. Growling to himself, Zim kept to his plan and slunk to the farthest, darkest corner of the room, and threw himself into the desk he found there.

Slowly, the room filled. Zim leaned a pointed chin on a fist, three clawlike fingers clattering impatiently on the desktop as he stared steadily at the open door, waiting...

Finally, after what felt like ages, HE came in. Zim bared his teeth slightly as an unnatural irony instantly became apparent. The only human on the entire dirt ball with the right to wear the disgusting black cow-skin was the only one on the entire planet NOT wearing one. The Dib-beast strolled into the classroom, hands shoved into black skinny-jean pockets, slightly longer scythe-lock waving, white arms completely (conspicuously) bare. Gone were the boots, too, replaced with smaller, plainer black and white converse. The only thing familiar about the hyuman now-other than the gravity defying scythe lock-was the blue shirt with the apathetic face on it. If it wasn't for those things, Zim might have been looking at a different worm-baby entirely.

Because the Dib was completely different. In addition to being much taller, (he towered over the Dib of Zim's memory) and lankier, he moved differently. No slumped shoulders and hesitant steps for older Dib. No air of hopeless, wounded pride.

And it wasn't hard to see why. The room instantly noticed Dib's entrance, but instead of the derisions and claims of insanity of old, the very sight of the Dib was greeted with cheers, female pig-squeals, and even a random "We love you, Dib!" from the other back corner of the room, to Zim's far right. A small knot of hyumans, whom Zim vaguely recognized as the Dib's fellow concert noise-makers, waved frantically for him to join them in their group of desks near the windows. Zim watched wide-eyed as he did, instantly becoming the center of the little group's fawning attention. The others outside the group continued to titter, staring awestruck at the lanky boy now draped coolly on a desk chair.

"All right class, settle down." The tired voice of the class's mentoring unit managed to make itself heard over the noise, which instantly died out, for the most part. The unit, a pudgy, graying male, flopped into a chair behind his larger, messy desk and waved a vague hand. "Class, we have a new student. Name's..." he squinted at a piece of paper on the desk, then picked it up, holding it less than an inch from his nose. "...Zim..." He looked up, half focused gaze somehow able to land on the alien. "Ah, there you are. Say hello to everybody."

Instantly all eyes in the room turned to Zim, pinning him to his seat, but he barely noticed. There was only one reaction the contact covered gaze was interested in gauging.

Zim hid a smirk as the thin body stiffened ever so slightly, the head slowly turning to face Zim. He knew the alien on sight, that much was obvious. Honestly, with their history, how could he not? But that's where the expected for Zim ended. A thin, pierced brow arched, giving Zim an unimpressed, but still ever so slightly puzzled, look. There was no familiar shouting, no declaring to the world at large the return of an alien menace to a human classroom. The Dib was silent, just like the rest. Silent and staring. Zim squirmed a little, cockiness fading, gaze dropping a little of its own accord.

Disconcerted, Zim nonetheless stayed in his new character, curling and uncurling the clawed fingers of one hand in a meek wave to the room at large, looking up slightly to watch Dib. But Dib was already turning away, the other dirt monkeys obediently following his lead.

When all the gazes left him, a fist clenched in the alien's lap. This was not how it was supposed to be. The hyuman was supposed to see him, and yell. They were supposed to fight like they used to...until Zim's superior acting skills convinced the Dib he was no threat, of course. He was not supposed to ignore Zim like everyone else!

The alien growled softly to himself, staring down at his clenched fist. A minor setback, he scoffed to himself. The Dib-beast would see differently soon enough!

...

Dib listened to Mr. Stibbens, his friends all around him, and the normal progression of dull, gray-faced teachers throughout the day, but inside his head was buzzing.

Zim was back. After five damn, peaceful years, the stupid alien came back...And behaving in a very un-Zim-ish fashion, too... In the back of Dib's mind the memory of the meek little wave played, like an old fashioned film reel. Really, who was he kidding? It was obvious he was up to... He sighed, a quick, frustrated exhale as he rubbed a temple, causing Gretchen to glance at him in concerned curiosity. It was both sad and mildly amusing (but mostly sad) that the mere sight of the alien, unchanged by time, could reawaken old paranormal investigator instincts and suspicions that had been happily dormant inside of him for the past five years.

Ugh. Why did the stupid alien have to come back? He was happy now. Finally. It had taken years, and the formation of the Spooky Dukes, but he had finally convinced everyone he wasn't crazy, that he was worth something...

And it was going to stay that way. He just had one little thing to do, then he wouldn't have to bother with the stupid green menace anymore. Just one little thing, and he would be some other poor idiot's problem...

After a quick, rather rude goodbye to his friends (and probably a snubbing of someone's after skool hangout plans, but at this point he didn't really care) Dib went home, not relaxing until the door to his room had slammed shut behind him. Without hesitation, Dib threw his bag on his bed and stomped over to his computer.

Carefully slipping on the headset and waking up the sleeping machine with a quick shake of the mouse, he brought up a familiar, if rarely used, program.

Taking a deep breath, Dib spoke the words he never thought he'd have to say.

"Sleeper Agent Mothman to SEN. Sleeper Agent Mothman to SEN. Subject Zim has returned to Earth, motives as yet unknown. I repeat, Subject Zim has returned to Earth, motives as yet un-"

Dib cut himself off with a soft clack of teeth as a new screen popped up, interrupting his broadcast. A shadowy figure sat, glowing red eyes watching Dib. "It has, Agent Mothman?"

"It has, Agent Scattermoon." Dib replied, surprised, having not expected to be answered so soon.

Eyes narrowed. "Intriguing." The new elected leader of the Swollen Eyeball Network focused back on the boy. "Good work, Agent Mothman." Thin, feminine hands steepled themselves, red eyes peering around them at Dib. "I know you don't have the stomach for the paranormal as you used to, but seeing as you have the most experience in dealing with this Subject Zim creature, I believe-and I think the other senior agents will agree with me-that you are the most qualified and certainly the most deserving of the honor of capturing the subject for us. As one last salute to the Network and your old paranormal life."

Dib's heart sank. Why did that reward sound more like a punishment? Oh yeah, because the whole reason he agreed to the whole sleeper agent thing instead of leaving the Network completely was because he didn't think the damn alien would come back-that the stupid green freak would die in whatever stupid intergalatic war his stupid species had gotten themselves caught up in...

He sighed, answering without thinking. "Okay."

"Excellent!" Agent Scattermoon sounded way too happy for Dib's taste. "Contact me directly when you have the subject in hand." And with that, the transmission cut out.

Dib turned off the computer and sighed again, rubbing his face. Before, as a junior agent of the Network, he would have eagerly leaped at the chance to prove to everyone that being a paranormal investigator wasn't stupid, or crazy, or impossible. Back then, he would have done anything for a green light from Scattermoon and the other senior agents to capture Zim himself (not that he had waited for one, but still).

Now...Now he just wished he hadn't said yes.

A/N: woo, second chapter! I like this one better, I think, even if there isn't any singing in it. Usual disclaimer: I do not own Zim, Dib, or Invader Zim in general. Jhonen Vasquez does.