Hey all! Back with chapter two of The Revolutionary Invader. Thank you Invader Johnny and Zim's Most Loyal Servant, I really appreciated your comments! I feel in this chapter, I've introduced so many characters, but all necessary for later on! And yes, Amelia is an OC.
I have a fantastic idea for Zim, as well. You'll be seeing more of him soon! I hope you all continue to read and review, and without further ado, onto chapter two!
Chapter Two- Not Throwing Away His Shot/Dib Refuted
Dib twisted and turned in bed as his subconscious selected memories he had attempted to hide. Of course, he often battled within himself because he did not wish to suppress the memories of his mother. She was sick, their father had left not too long after Gaz was born, so it was up to Dib to care for the two women in his life. He remembered Gaz being so small, their mother became so small, and she had died slowly fading away and holding onto them in the belly of winter.
Their house had no insulation, no wood for their fire. He remembered the tears and Gaz's wails. They echoed and bounced off the walls in haunting aches that he held onto.
"Look after one another," he recalled her saying, her lips cracked and bleeding. Sores had captured her beautiful face. Her eyes were bloodshot, fingers blacked and the lesions along her arms and legs had begun to fester and caused a putrid odor to invade their home. He imagined it like a green wisp curling through the doorways and cling to the flooring. Like the air, no one had control over it. Closer and closer it crept towards the three of them and Dib fought it but it couldn't win against it.
Somehow, he hadn't died.
It curled around their mother's form. Dib held Gaz protectively to him, but he wasn't big enough to protect them both. He was the little man, but not man enough. The green wisp evolved into a blanket that covered their mother, consumed her being in a funeral blanket. Somehow, it chose to spare the siblings, which had caused confusion in the elder sibling for years.
Dib awoke in a cold sweat. His sister in the cot beside him. He woke with a jolt, panting and reaching for his glasses with trembling hands. Dib cursed his father, the father he couldn't remember. With one hand, he held his glasses and with the other he pinched the bridge of his nose to suppress the tears from coming. Ever since that dream, he never took favor to the color green.
He kept his mother's promise and looked after Gaz, no matter how trying she became throughout the years. The older she became, the less happy she seemed, especially when Dib attempted to introduce her to potential suitors. Gaz didn't understand that Dib did it to secure her a better future than one that her brother couldn't give her when he was struggling to get by himself. He didn't want to manage her suffering and Gaz saw it as her brother trying to get rid of her and eventually, he stopped trying.
"I'm trying, mom," Dib whispered into the darkness while he adjusted his glasses on his face. "Where is that bastard of a man you laid with that fathered us?" His hand clenched into a fist before he released it after a few moments. There was no sense in holding onto a question that would more than likely be never answered.
There had to be a reason they survived.
Come morning, Gaz stirred beneath her blankets as the sun crept inside. Dib had bathed, dressed, and headed downstairs to make his way towards the office where Zim had given him directions to. He adjusted the threadbare coat, tucking the disgusted notion in the back of his mind and assured himself that with a week's pay he would buy newer clothing and then proceed to secure residency for himself and his sister.
"Amelia, I think we should return home. Father's not going to like us being out here," Gretchen said in barely above a whisper as she whipped her head towards the back of her sister, who eyed the stands curiously. Gretchen tugged on one of her violet pigtails and bit her bottom lip nervously. She took slow steps in her orange gown, a pink choker around her neck.
The other woman wore a lavender gown, her neckline bare and brown curls tumbling loosely off her shoulders. She nearly came to the same height as Gretchen, a fan in her hands to block the dust that kicked back from the moving feet and carriages. So many people passed them and without a second look, which was what the woman named Amelia was hoping for, for now.
"Gretchen…" somehow the other young woman managed to hear her over the roar of the morning crowd and the crunch of gravel beneath their shoes. She closed the fan and tapped it against her open palm. "I mean, we are part of history here. The revolution is occurring," she continued breathlessly as her blue eyes lit up with excitement. The dawning of a new era, a new New York was fascinating to her.
"But, what are you looking for?" Gretchen countered meekly. "Why come out here all this way?"
"I'm looking for a mind like ours," Amelia retorted, having time to think about this question that she had ruminated in her mind, bringing her hands up and over her chest where she felt her heart beat. "I want to be part of the revolution, not just watching it from our balconies. I don't want us wasting our lives."
She noticed her sister dim to silence and frown, and Amelia's hopeful look faded. "You're free to go if you want," she said quietly.
But, Gretchen didn't want to leave her sister and instead walked over, even her steps were quiet as she slung an arm around the shoulders of her kin. Each sister was in her twenties and unmarried. Their father, Colonel Jacob Ryder, had hoped his daughters would have found eligible husbands before either of them would qualify in their lifetime as spinsters.
Amelia knew her sister was too quiet for her own good. But she also knew that one day, when she was ready, she would speak her piece. She had a feeling Gretchen was concocting something good in that mind of hers, because the Ryder sisters were brought up to be more than housewives and bearers of children. They were learned women, taught literacy, composition, music and Amelia was skilled with a piano whereas Gretchen took to a reading nook all day and devoured volumes of documents. But Amelia handled the conversations until Gretchen found her grounding.
Looking down into her sister's eyes, Amelia knew it would be time to turn back soon. She reached for the others hands and kissed them gently with loving affection. "We'll go back soon. I promise." She didn't want to cause her sibling any further discomfort.
Dib had no intention of being late for his first day on the job, glancing down to read over the directions he was given. He brushed his mouth with the back of his hand to cover his yawn. He was curious to what this job would be like, he was grateful for whatever was to pay him, but Dib wanted to be of use.
He stopped at a stand for an apple and flicked a coin to the produce manager, rubbing the piece against his shirt before biting into it. Hearing that familiar and desirable crisp crunch, Dib chewed thoughtfully. Today was the start of something new. His mission to find meaning and purpose in this land.
"Ladies and gentlemen…" the voice echoed and the sound of feet on the ground began to slow down as did Dib. He picked his head up mid chew, a well dressed individual adorning a dark cloak with black gloves upon his hands- the same gloves he had eyed the night before in the tavern with that same healthy and peachy glow. His brows knit together before swallowing the half-chewed apple, feeling that lump stick in his throat, but he soon ignored it.
"I understand there have been a fabrication of rumors spreading throughout the city and allow me to put these rumors to bed…" His arms spread, revealing red in his sleeve and Dib leaned in to observe and hear more.
"There are no such things as aliens!" Dib nearly dropped his apple.
"This nonsense again?" a bystander groaned. "If I hear about mythical creatures from outer space again."
"The only aliens out there are the enemy taxing our tea and threatening to touch our whiskey." The voice was heavily laced with a thick accent of sorts, dripping with feminism. The bystander's significant other touched his arm as she shook her dainty head, wisps of purple hair framing her angular face. She had a beauty mark beneath her right eye.
"But there are aliens," Dib found himself saying, his free hand balling into a fist and crumpling the directions. "You people are blind to the truth that'll collapse in front of you when it's too late and you're all enslaved."
"Excuse me?" The bystander and his significant other turned their heads in his direction. "With what proof do you have?"
"Documents from Professor-"
"That crazy windbag, Professor Smite?" The bystander chuckled, which only caused the blood to boil in the young believer. "Son, read something worthwhile, like a text book." It was the laughter that struck him.
"But, what about the soldiers who went missing!?"
"Son, they passed away in the throngs of war."
"The bodies were never recovered," Dib challenged. The violet haired woman quirked a brow in interest.
Rather than allow his emotions to overthrow him, Dib counted to ten in his mind and looked up at the preacher. All Dib had were pamphlets from other believers and those who had claimed to see them with their descriptions. No concrete evidence had surfaced, none yet. Even back home, waving them around, Dib looked like a mad man on a mission and people stopped, they stared, and then they either threw their trash at him or they just kept moving.
If he wanted people to believe him, he needed something rock solid to show. Show them, don't tell them.
Grunting, Dib stormed off, the preacher's arms lowering and with a hard look his direction. No one took note of the static shock that flickered in his eyes. Dib had drawn attention to himself, and none to his benefit. He continued to pick up the pace, certain by now he was near being late if he wasn't already. Faster and faster his legs picked up, not watching where he was going until he collided into something, or rather, someone.
"Amelia!"
A feminine shrill caught Dib off guard as he knocked a woman off her balance. He collided into her and sent them onto the hard ground below. The cry of another woman rang in his ears as he cursed himself. Lifting his head, he caught the gaze of a pink choker and lips parted in distress. He dipped his head down, the tip of his scythe drooping and pointing towards the heart of the woman he had fallen into and met the dark blue eyes that reflected against his glasses that clung to the tip of his nose. His breath shallow as his blood ran cold. Her chest heaved in response.
"Amelia!"
Dib shook his head, noticing the light silk against the dried, tan dirt and blanched. He realized what had occurred while he wasn't looking.
"Miss, a-are you a-alright?" He stammered in shock.
"Ah," she winced, attempting to apply her weight onto her elbow before realizing his weight was still on her. "y-you're still on me."
It felt as though he flung himself off her, falling back onto his rear before the other woman knelt to help her friend or her sister up. Dib's eyes were wide as he took in the scene before him. Both appeared distressed and he never wanted to see that look on a woman's face. Fuck, how clumsy could he be? Adjusting his glasses, he could see her gown was filthy and torn at the elbow. But, no other physical damage, he observed. That still didn't keep him from feeling bad.
"Miss, if there's anything I can do to help-"
"We should go home now, Amelia," Gretchen whispered to her. "Please."
"But, I-"
Amelia inspected her gown and began to brush herself off, noticing her elbow was scraped and Dib appeared further mortified. "No harm done," she replied, finally in a low yet soft voice, her eyes meeting his once more. "Really. It's fine."
He paused, only able to nod. The woman with the curled pigtails eyes were on him, as well. Black and blue bearing into him as red invaded his cheeks. "Can I see you home, at least? Or at least call a carriage for you?"
The brunette shook her head, continuing to brush her gown off. "We should be going." She shook, though slightly, from the contact. Though her sister's hands supported her, Dib was responsible and thought he should take charge. However, he felt he would be met with the same blockades repeatedly: they did not want him to follow them home. Feeling now like a rejected puppy, he at least watched them off before he continued to trail his own way towards the office after picking up the crumpled paper. He inwardly vowed that if they should ever meet again, he would make it up to her. Though barely, she was injured due to his negligence and emotions over the topic of aliens.
Thinking about it like that caused his face to redden even more.
Pushing the door open to the office, the men from the night prior all picked their heads up in unison. "You're late."
Dib blanched, especially as the one with the bad haircut and mustache eyed him crudely as his elfish nose turned up in near disgust. "You're covered in filth."
"There is no time for filthiness and cleanup-ery," Zim hollered from his desk, donning a visor as he dragged a pencil across a large sheet of paper. "Send the big headed one to see Keef to get started."
"My head is not big!" Dib countered, snorting before Skoodge waddled from behind his own desk to escort the new recruit towards the back of the building.
"Ignore Madge," Skoodge muttered. "He's always cranky in the morning." He was received with a nod in reply as they continued on their way towards the back where the labor took place. They passed rows of tables with spreadsheets and blueprints. He assumed these men were designers. The voice of his sister ran frothy against his back to not ask too many questions.
Do the work, get paid, do the work, get paid. He was just starting, not to make trouble for himself. He couldn't afford to pick up and leave if he did.
He also countered his thoughts of taking charge of his life. Gaz may have been right, but he was his own man. One day, he would do something for himself that would be a great benefit to everyone. He was waiting for the opportunity to strike like a gold or platinum mine.
"Hey there!" a cheerful voice rang out, high pitched and sugary; too much for the morning and Dib already had a headache. "I'm Keef, it's nice to make your acquaintance."
"Uh, hi."
Several other heads picked up. Manual workers collecting wood and other oddities. He glanced back towards the front to see Zim and the others curling over their less straining work.
"You need several promotions to get up there with them. But, no one has seemed to."
"You mean they dangle promotions?" Dib inquired, unable to help his natural habit of asking questions. He sought answers.
"I'm sure they're looking for the best workers for the job," Another worker, Melvin, added.
"What are they building?" Dib further pried, but only received shrugs.
"They pay us well. That's all we know," Keef replied and added a shrug of his own.
"Has anyone asked? I mean, whatever they're building, it seems…big."
"The last guy who asked…we never saw again," Keef shifted a nervous glance towards the front of the store. "We don't want to be fired."
Dib thought it strange. So, they recruited men to do these jobs, and anyone who had the nerve to ask got the boot.
"So, they use promotions to motivate everyone to work harder and not give them?" The young man frowned.
"Less talking and more working!" Zim hollered from his desk. Moments after he uttered those words, a small green form began to toddle towards them. Initially, he thought it to be a child in its pajamas. Maybe one of them brought their son or daughter into work with them today before he realized it was a dog. The dog stopped at Dib's feet, looking up at him as Dib blinked slowly in return. Did no one else see this?
There was an odd, pregnant pause before the dog then turned to watch the other men who lowered their pencils and pieces of wood to eye the dog in return. Dib rubbed his eyes. It was odd that this dog was green, it was odd that this dog walked on its hind legs…though he was sure he had seen stranger, he supposed. Maybe he hadn't gotten enough sleep. Or, perhaps, this was the beginnings of a clue that he desperately needed. Slowly, he lifted his head. So, then, which one of them was the owner of this dog?