A/N: Here is chapter two. I enjoyed writing this one. It is based on real life events. Okay, it is not.
Thank you to my reviewers. Your comments mean a lot to me :)
...
The podium turned dark as the lights went out. A hush spread over the crowd, except from the occasional cough or murmur of excitement. After all this was the great and powerful Peter (he-no) Fraudstein, a famous psychic across the city as tickets to his shows were selling out fast. First come first served...
Smoke spread across the stage and over the crowd, eliciting cries from the helpless people below. Then lasers shot out from turrets located on the left and right of the stage, manned by technicians who were hidden from view. Lasers and smoke machines? This show has it all (let's see if some high and mighty alien leaders in a galaxy far, far away can beat that!)
The speakers buzzed to life with static, deafening many ears in the crowd. Next, a shadowy figure emerged from the smoke while two lasers shot above his head. There was a cry from the left of the stage, as a laser hit a technician in the eye. But the crowd still cheered.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, all rise for the great and powerful Peter Fraudstein! Yeah! Let me hear you scream! Whoo! I hate my life..."
Finally, Peter (he-no) Fraudstein materialized in full view, pulling off a sparkly cape as he spread his arms out wide. The crowd went wild. He was a middle-aged man with smooth hair and a brilliant tan to boot.
"My many fans," he said, "you all look so beautiful tonight. Free tickets to next month's show to the guy or girl who screams the loudest!"
"WHOOHOO! I LOVE YOU PETER-HE-NO-FRUADSTIEN! YOU ROCK! YEAH, YOU OL' ROCKY ROCK, GOOD OL' HUMAN ROCK... guy. SIGN MY UNIFORM!"
The small green creature who screamed those words of praise had risen to his chair, standing over the crowd and receiving odd looks. Some were even a little jealous; the types who have gone to every one of Peter (he-no) Fraudstein's shows the past year.
To his right, an even smaller creature glowered, looking around at the crowd subconsciously. Even above the crowd's shouting, his companion still managed to make himself heard.
"Skoodge," he whispered. "What on Irk are you doing?"
"Ah, I believe we have a winner," said Peter. "Free tickets for the little green, stout man with the yellow bouffant!"
Skoodge looked up in shock. "Hey, that's me. I... I won? Zim, I won! Hoohaa!" He pumped his fists in.
Two tickets came hurling Skoodge's way next, nearly taking his wig clean off. One still chopped off the top of his wig (the tickets were that sharp), but gullible Skoodge pulled through...
The chubby Irken held his tickets up, beaming widely. Not only short and ugly, but a winner too.
His fellow crowd members seethed as he continued to hold his tickets up. Zim finally pulled him down, hiding his face away with embarrassment.
The shorter Irken was glaring at him now. Skoodge looked genuinely confused.
"What's wrong, Zim? You're not jealous, are you? It's okay because there are two tickets! We both get to go to Peter-he-no-Fraudstein's show next month! Whoo—"
Zim slapped him across the mouth so he couldn't cheer anymore. Enough was enough.
"Shut your noise tube, Skoodge. I only came to this stupid show to see this Peter-he-no-Fraudstein myself. Such lies; he's nothing but a regular showman. Even the great Professor Membrane discredited this fraud! Yet people still pay to see his shows. I'm afraid the Professor only heightened his fame... Dib wasn't too impressed. The boy's gone crazy, as he keeps bringing up a story about a 'Chickenfoot'. I'm afraid he's losing it."
Skoodge shifted his eyes. "So... you won't be coming to next month's show? They're front row seats! Oh, wait, they're not." He looked closely at the tickets then."We'll be even further back than we are now!"
"No! You can take GIR instead. I wouldn't even see this man for free due to all his lies! He makes real psychics like me look bad!"
"So why did you pay to see him now?"
Zim stopped short, realising his mistake. "Silence!" he yelled. "I'm here on a mission, and that is to expose this man for the fraud he is. If parting with cash helps me in that, then I see no flaw in my philosophy. I've changed my whole life on the practices this man mocks, but don't worry; all that will stop soon."
Skoodge looked around uncomfortably. "Are there any... um... ghosts here now?" he asked.
Zim looked around the crowd. No, as far as he could tell, no spirits were in the room. Just the smiling, hopeful faces of many of Peter (he-no) Fraudstein's fans. So sad. They're so willing to believe in anything that they will take this fraud's claims for truth. Zim had to put a stop to this. Nobody reaps the benefits of the misery of others.
The crowd suddenly went quiet at the request of the announcer. Peter (he-no) Fraudstien zoned out, gripping his head in an attempt to connect with creatures from 'the other side'.
"I'm sensing... an elderly gentlemen coming through. Possible heart-failure, or any other kind of prevalent disease across the whole populace..."
"Yeah, my uncle had heart problems!" one skinny young man shouted.
"So did my late husband!" called an old woman.
"I'm getting a name beginning with J; possibly a John, Jack, Jason, Jimbo—?"
"My husband was named John!"
"My uncle was Jack!"
"And did John like... food?" Peter asked, focusing on the old lady now.
"Yes, John loved his food. He loved his food good!" she cried.
Zim face palmed. The guy was just asking general questions that apply to a lot of people; a large majority of the human population suffer from heart problems due to unhealthy lifestyles. And John is one of the most popular names, having many varieties across different languages.
He moved his hand away from his face, and then took a double take. Next to Peter (he-no) Fraudstein was an old man. Although he looked quite ordinary (having already passed on to the other side), Zim could still sense he was a spirit. Maybe Peter wasn't a fraud after all. Was the old guy feeding him information?
The Irken peered around the room again. There were others like him, standing by their living relatives. This couldn't be real; Peter had to be a fraud. It's in his name!
Beside him sat a woman, and behind her stood an older woman placing her hand on her shoulder. Zim glanced up at her. She looked down and smiled.
"You see me perfectly don't you, dear?" she said.
Zim kept his mouth shut. The younger woman next to him would wonder who he was talking to.
"Why don't you tell my daughter that I'm here?" she continued.
"It's a lot easier said than done..." he muttered as quietly as possible.
The daughter looked his way curiously. Zim faced the front again, seeing that procession of spirits leading to Peter on stage.
"Hey, gel-head!" one large man shouted up at Peter. He was second in line. "Why don't you tell my nephew that I'm here too! Stop talking to that old biddy! There's a line here!"
"Excuse me, sir, but I was first in line. And I would be grateful if you didn't refer to my wife in that derogative way," said the spirit of the old man.
"Well go over there and tell her to stop hogging up the limelight. She's had her turn. Let someone else have a go. My nephew's waiting for me down there!"
"Oh, just wait your turn!" a spirit of a mouse-faced lady snapped next. "My sister's down there too. I died of cancer six months ago, and she's worried about me, so we all want to get through to someone tonight. You're not the only one here!"
"Shut up, lady, no one asked for your life story!"
All the spirits started arguing, making the lights flicker due to their build-up of negative energy. Everyone in the room screamed.
A living woman stood up in the front row. "It's my cousin Steve!" she proclaimed. "He's making the lights go out. He always liked to play with the lights when we were little..."
Beside her, Steve looked confused. "No I didn't. Geez, Karen, you can't be that desperate for my coming through."
"A message from the other side. I believe Steve is coming through to you, miss," Peter said, smiling.
Steve watched him suspiciously. "Yes, but not through the lights; I'm not a friggin' poltergeist! You old fraud. Don't listen to him, Karen. I'm right here. You don't need this fake to tell you that."
"Whoa, whoa, hold on, Stevey boy. So you're saying this guy really doesn't speak to the likes of us?" the fat man asked.
"Yes, and they're all falling for it," Steve replied.
The fat man looked cheated then. "We're being conned?!"
"What? He can't do that?" one spirit cried.
"Hey, give my brother his money back, fraud!" another shouted.
"Conned or not, it gives me a chance to put my wife at ease. I've got to get through to her somehow," the old man said.
The fat man looked at him incredulous. "But he can't even see you old man. He's just asking her general questions. Who doesn't love food? And I can gladly say we both suffered heart problems. I can't believe we've been played for fools..."
All the spirits started yelling at Peter (he-no) Fraudstein, but the guy was completely oblivious. Anyone with the slightest bit of psychic ability would be able to sense a whole procession of spirits yelling at them, but not Peter. He was that disconnected from the spiritual realm, being too materialistic and corrupt in his pursuits. He probably couldn't even see a spirit if it danced naked in front of him.
Zim observed this entire spectacle speechless. It seemed the crowd doubled in size once all the spirits emerged. Combined with the living and the dead, he was becoming overwhelmed.
"I think you should put an end to this. It's going to get way out of hand, and someone will get hurt," the lady behind him said.
Zim met her gaze. "How? There's too many of them. I wouldn't know where to begin."
"Just do what you know is right. You've done it before, so you can do it once again. I'm aware of your reputation. You've become quite well known on the other side..."
He pulled up a vacant brow. "I have?"
"Yes, your little blond friend is very proud of you up there."
"You know Molly?" he asked in disbelief.
She smiled. "That I do. Now get up there..."
The old woman was crying now, knowing that her beloved had gotten through to her at last.
"I want him to know that I love him so much..." she cried.
"I'm sure he knows that already, ma'am. Now let's all give a cheer for Rose, who has made a fine assistant in tonight's show!"
The crowd gave an applause.
John, Rose's husband, glared at him next. "You're nothing but a crook," he growled. But Peter was unaware.
"I'm afraid ladies and gentlemen that no other spirits have come through," Peter started to say. "The show will commence shortly after a fifteen minute—"
"Lies!" a voice called out in the crowd.
Peter stared out over the crowd. "I beg your pardon, sir?" he asked.
"Lies, it's all lies!"
Peter's forehead started to bead with sweat. The whole room turned quiet, living and dead.
Skoodge glanced up at Zim nervously. The shorter Irken had risen to his chair.
"Zim, what on planet Blorch are you doing?" he asked, mirroring Zim not so long ago.
"Don't worry, Skoodge, I got this. Zim has got this!"
Peter spotted him at last; not surprising he was sitting next to the chubby loud one from before. "Well, would you like to come up here, sir, and share your thoughts with the crowd?"
Zim revealed his zipper smile. "I'd be glad to, Peter-you are a-Fraudstein!"
"Well come on up here then. A cheer for the little green man as he makes his way to the stage!"
That was Zim's cue. So off he went to the stage as everyone cheered. His pride was coming through as he ascended the stage, loving all the praise from these inferior creatures. No, equal creatures. It was equal now.
A man gave him a microphone so he could address the crowd. Peter already had his mouthpiece attached. He looked down at Zim so self-assured, but it was the mask of a nervous man.
"I'm very flattered by your applause, but I seek no praise for the services I provide. This man is a fraud and speaks to no spirits in this room tonight. I can assure you all!"
The crowd looked confused. At no moment did they expect otherwise. They really were stupid, or just naïve. Grief can do strange things to a person' mind; Zim knew that now.
Peter laughed good-naturedly, as he put an arm around Zim. He had to lower himself to the alien's level, since he's so short. "My, you're certainly a party pooper, aren't you? Coming up here and saying all those things. Are you often as loud and destructive as this?"
Zim chuckled darkly. "Oh, you have no idea, filthy human magician. So get your grimy, lying paws off my shoulder..." he breathed.
Peter looked at the little green man unsure. He saw that psychotic gleam in his eyes next, and finally granted him his space.
"How about you inform the crowd of all my lies then, good sir? I'm sure they would love to hear all of their hopes shattered..."
"Turning the crowd against me. How very clever, but how about you tell them all about the huge procession of spirits leading up to your stage first?"
Peter stared dumbfounded.
Zim smiled. "I thought so. You can't even see them, can you?"
"I... uh... w-what—?"
Zim ignored his stupid stuttering. "To my left is an elderly, dark-skinned man, behind him a larger man, who looks as if he visited Mcmeaties too many times, and then after him is a rat-faced lady."
"Hey!" the rat-faced lady snapped. "I'm mouse-like."
"But of course," Zim continued, "you wouldn't know that..."
"Huh, the green midget really does see us. Who knew..." the elderly man remarked.
"Did you also not notice he's an alien, old guy?" the fat man replied.
"Heh, heh, that's enough words from your mouth, hippo! What's your name, anyway?" Zim asked.
"Jack."
"And who are you here to see tonight?"
"The skinny kid on the second row. He's my nephew."
"You!" Zim pointed to the skinny kid on the second row.
"Me?" he piped.
"Yes, your uncle Jack has something he'd like to say to you..."
The skinny kid stared up at him speechless. "You... how did you know that I was here to see my—"
"He just told me. He just wants to let you know that he's proud of the man you've become, and he's with your dad now. Oh, and he loves what you've done with his car; the flames are a nice touch. What? They don't make the car go faster. That's ridiculous. How would I know? I was a scientist on one of the universe's greatest research planets; I think I'd know if fire painted on a car makes the engine run faster! Uh... Yeah, he likes the flames..."
The skinny kid closed his eyes. "We always talked about adding the flames... how it would make it go faster..."
Zim growled. "Yes, yes, the flames. He also wants you to break up with Caroline. She's not the right girl for you."
"W-what?" he asked, looking over at Caroline on his left. She eyed him evilly.
"I think that's enough for today," Peter interrupted next, grabbing Zim's mike. "Security, escort this gentleman out of the building. He has disrupted this show long enough."
"Wait, we wanna hear what else he has to say!" a member shouted from the crowd. Everyone else cheered.
"What's my great aunt up to?" a man shouted.
Zim listened to the spirit. "Beat-boxing and knitting, just like she always used to do. She says you need to look under the floorboards; that's where you lost your watch..."
The man looked stunned. Not many old women beat-boxed; that was more than a lucky guess, and he had lost his watch.
"How about my son? He died so young!" a women cried next.
Zim listened again. "He watches over you always, and he says you shouldn't feel bad about Benji; you did what was best!"
The woman gasped. Benji was his childhood dog that she had to put down recently.
Peter glared at Zim. He definitely has talent, however he does it. A true manipulator, but he could see right through it all. After all, how could spirits really exist?
Now the guards grabbed Zim, and escorted him out the building. The old man John took his arm before he left.
"Let my wife know that I love her too. Please..."
"It's too late now. I'm sorry," Zim said.
"It's not. Do it now!" John let go.
As Zim passed his wife, Rose, he told her all she needed to know.
"Your husband loves you too, and he says the kitties, Milo and Miles, are sleeping well. How cute," he remarked.
"He's with our babies!" she gasped.
"So he says," he called back as he was dragged out the room.
The crowd protested, every human living and dead. Peter looked uncomfortable as a kitchen sink was thrown on stage, so he later announced that the show would be cut short and all would get their money back (not that he was happy about that).
The only ones who never got their money back were Zim and Skoodge. Of course.
"Wait!" Zim shouted, just before he left the room. "You forgot my friend Skoodge!" He pointed to the stout, green man.
"Zim!" Skoodge snapped. "I mean... I don't know him." Another security guard grabbed him next as he cried out in defeat.
Both aliens went flying across an alley once the guards threw them out.
Skoodge attacked him at once (with words that is). "Zim, how could you? I was having fun!"
Zim sat up and brushed himself off. "You're speaking to an Irken who has betrayed you countless times, like sacrificing you to a Hogulus beast, and setting a security droid onto you while I escaped to Irk's surface. So why are you even surprised?" he asked.
"Yeah, but all that was in the name of war. Now you're just a jerk, you jerk!"
Zim rolled his ocular implants. "I'm through with having this conversation with you. And jerk is Dib's line!"
"Fine. He can keep it. What happened in there anyway?"
"You, an Irken who has met death himself, couldn't even see all those human spirits?!"
"No. I think I'm finally free... Death's shadow no longer lingers at my side. So I'm no longer connected with the dead, etc. It's all confusing. How is Johnny, anyway?"
"He acts less dead these days, but enough of him now. I believe I finally disproved of that fraud! Wait till Dib hears of this. Did you see me up there? Victory has never smelled so sweet."
"Yeah, but you got us kicked out." Skoodge folded him arms.
"It was worth it. If I were you, I would sell those tickets fast before he goes out of business. I hope it will be by tomorrow."
"But I haven't got that long!"
"Well you better get on the Earth Internet tonight and sell them quick. Peter-he-no-Fraudstein's reign of terror will soon be over. Rwahahahaha…haha…ha. Let's go home."
The Irkens stood and brushed themselves off, and headed back to the base. It had been a long evening, but there was some victory to be won in the end.
…
The door to Tak's holding cage opened as the force field went out, and in came those large Irken guards carrying those shock spears. Tak felt her spooch flip at the sight of them; she had enough of electrical shots lately. But she raised her posture defiantly.
They unlocked the chains and gripped her arms roughly.
"Really, where are your manners?" she said.
"Be quiet, traitor. Your trial is about to begin. And don't even think about trying anything. We will shock you."
"I thought as much. Very well, let the trial commence."
They led her out of the cell and through a maze of corridors. Tak glanced quickly at the creatures in the other cells. They were strange alien entities that she didn't care to name. Some were primitive at best. To be placed with beasts of such nature made her skin crawl.
Next, her eyes fell on a Vortian crouching in the corner of his cell. At least he wasn't primal.
He met her gaze then. Tak averted her eyes. It was the captain of the Resisty, a Vortian whom she had come to accept as an ally. Now here he was.
Poor Lard Nar; he had already escaped from prison only to be captured again. No prisoner of the Empire stayed free for long.
She wondered if the rest of the Resisty were here too. After all, they had all been captured together after they lost the Meekrobian battle as one team defying the Empire.
At least the boy escaped back to Earth. Zim couldn't live without his precious Dib-worm after all. Had he a soft spot for the human? Helping him escape was a sure sign.
They soon came to a room where she would be teleported to Planet Judgementia, and from there her fate lay in the tentacle-like limbs of the Control Brains.
Tentacles, probing into her PAK and examining her personal memories and thoughts. No such thing as privacy in Irken civilisation.
The door to the teleportation tube slid aside, and she took her first step towards the interior. This was it. Her moment of reckoning would soon begin. And she was more than ready.
Let the trial commence.
A/N: I read on the Zim wiki page that Dib was supposed to have joined up with the Resisty to fight off the Irken Empire, along with the Meekrob in Invader Dib. I have also seen discussion boards for plot ideas they had (and read some fanfics). They all say the same things too. All speculation, but it is more or less the plot they would have used. It's a shame they never recovered the plot. So this takes place after Invader Dib. I did always imagine that this fanfiction series took place after all the episodes, even the ones that never made it.
Tak, however, is my own addition to that rebellious team. I do remember seeing in a discussion board that people reckon Tak would have fought alongside Dib (and Gaz with Zim, just to get on Dib's nerves, but that's another speculation). I'm just playing with that idea.
I have copy and pasted a passage from the Zim wiki page, and cited it with a URL. I knew I came across it months ago when I planned this sequel in my head and tried to find some supporting evidence. I just found it the other day, and copied it on my computer. It was written by a fan all the same, but maybe they just know a little more than me (and research better sources).
According to one of the plots for Invader Dib (the series finale), Zim would end up punishing Tak to exile on Saturn along with Dib, The Resisty and the Meekrob; she would have been accused of conspiracy to commit genocide on her own people in exchange for Zim's defeat, which he would immediately accuse her of treason. wiki/Zim_and_Tak%27s_Relationship.
I finally found it in the section for "Zim and Tak's relationship explained in a nutshell." Okay, I added the nutshell bit at the end (because it's amazing), but that's where I found it. But on the section for 'Invader Dib' nothing about Tak's involvement in the plot is written there. Well not about her trying to cause the genocide of her own people. That's the beauty of 'wiki' pages for you, editing and re-editing.
I'll be honest, but I can't imagine Tak going against her race just like that. It seems... out of character.
She was such a good Invader and wanted to make the Tallest proud. Though do take note that is says 'one' of the plot ideas. The IZ writing team could have had many! It does also say accused (key words people!) Maybe Tak was just wrongly accused by Zim (because he hates her).
She was supposed to have messed up the SIR competition too in 'Top of the Line'. Maybe she was insane after all and 'defective' (spoken in a very spooky voice).
I've always wanted to write Tak's character in a fanfiction. And I got a chance now. She's a great character, and should be explored, crazy or not. If you know stuff, let me know in a review. It's just great to discuss IZ again, like old times.
And do be wary of frauds who claim to be psychics. This obvious example here is just a magician, or a mentalist, and just used bad guessing techniques. Fraud is even in his name! The people of IZ can be gullible. Poor fools. I've been to a similar show, but then the psychic later was debunked. Oops, I was the fool (but it was a good atmosphere).
I hope you didn't think he was based solely on John Edward. I know nothing of the man, and won't judge. I wouldn't have been bothered if anyone didn't come through to me at the show I attended (in which they didn't). I don't need someone else telling me that someone is watching over me, anyway, but some people like to seek comfort, especially if they lost someone recently.
The next update will be next week. Good bye till then.