Beep boop bop, so went her Game Slave 2. Little thumbs jammed the buttons deeper into the handheld, she played with all her might. Her eyes, those melted amber orbs, darted every which way. On the tiny led screen, pigs exploded into red and pink giblets, filling her with a sense of otherworldly dominance. But then, the door-bell rang out, and Gaz Membrane knew EXACTLY what was to follow.

A pair of feet came darting behind the couch, stopping at the front door. Gaz tried to tune out the transaction, the third one this week, going down within earshot, but she had piggies to kill. The door then slammed closed (she never noticed it open), and the feet scurried behind her again. Unfortunately for her, she was relying too much on the footsteps' synchronicity to keep her focused, so when they tripped up, so did she. A bloated piggy with a flamethrower torched her character to death, and once again, like some daily ritual, she threw the Game Slave 2 on the floor with a crack and stormed off to the kitchen. There, like a trench-coat mafia reject, stood Dib holding a slice of the cheese and pepperoni pie, fresh from Bloaty's.

"YOU FAGGOT!"

"What-"

SLAP!

Gaz backhanded her brother and stared him down while also taking the entire pizza box, with the seven other pieces still in it, back to the living room.

Dib just sighed. Why the hell could he never remember to listen for Gaz playing her game whenever he ordered pizza? He rubbed his cheek and walked back to his bedroom. In that domain of his, a Skype call with some fellow Swollen Eyeball members had devolved into a belligerent barrage of shitty theories and small dick jokes.

"Hey, I'm gonna call it a night, folks. This shit is too outta hand."

Before waiting for a response, he hung up and sighed. Biting into his pizza, he scrolled through some document files and transcripts sent to him for processing and analysis, courtesy of his mentor Dark Booty. He still had the note he had been given after turning in all his evidence on Zim. It read:

'You did good, kid. Sorry about the tribunal. The world just isn't ready. But one day, it will be. And I know you'll save us.

-Dark Booty.'

It was perched on the bottom of his centre monitor, on a little blue post-it note. He half-smiled at it; it was a reminder of how far he'd come, a vindication of sorts. The tribunal had nearly fucked him over, but no one was going to doubt what he had accomplished. The evidence was staggering enough-

"DIB!"

Goddammit, he thought with an air of defeat.

"I'm going out!"

"K!" Dib replied.

He could hear Gaz clamour down the stairs with urgency. He shrugged and went back to munching away once the door lock sounded off.

—

The house- that ugly tacky house- stood in the same lot as it always had. The gnomes watched all, but saw nothing. The whirring pipes and metal tentacles were still lodged into the sides of the neighbouring houses. Gir was out on the front lawn, puking up chocolate bubble gum slushy on to the surprisingly well-kept lawn. For reasons unknown, he felt like doing so made his disguise more believable, after studying the dogs in the area. Elsewhere, underneath the house, in some obscure chamber in the deeper recesses of his multi-faceted lair, Zim was hunched over an operating table, trying to perfect his robot gopher. As he delicately approached a bloody green wire with metallic purple pliers, Gir came barraging in, causing Zim to drop the pliers into the robot gopher's dissected body and detonating it. Gore and organs splattered everywhere, and Zim and Gir were thoroughly covered in wires and tiny red intestines.

Zim sighed. "Great," he said, "now I have to start over. GIR!"

"Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaas?

"Bring me another gopher from cryo. Preferably a fresh one."

"But we's all out!"

Zim spun around and looked at the little hunk o' junk. "Eh? COMPUTER!"

The omniscient computer coughed and hacked a bit before responding.

"There are no gophers in cryo currently."

"WHY NOT?"

"Because you used them all, you carnophobic banshee."

"Shit. Shit shit shit."

Suddenly, a great red alarm came out of a hole in the ceiling and began wailing fanatically. To Zim's dismay, Gir's confusion, and the computer's indifference, the proximity alarm had been triggered. Someone had trespassed on the property.

Zim launched himself into the elevator, Gir is tow. By the time they were expelled from the kitchen toilet, they had their sub-average disguises on and saw that the robo-parents were answering the door, as dictated by their programming.

"Zim, you fuck-head, get out here."

Zim and Gir stared at each other. The Dib-stink's sibling? Then, with great force, the terrifying angel of destruction known as Gaz Membrane broke through the robo-parents blockade (or lack thereof) and began marching towards the duo.

*"Hey, Irk's finest, I've got a proposition for you." As she said this, she was taking out a blue and black floppy disk from inside her bra, wiping off some sweat or something off of it. When she looked up and back at the alien twosome, they were pointing some very large and obtuse looking weapons at her. Eventually realizing that she had come on ambiguously peaceful terms, Zim lowered his gun and motioned for Gir to do the same. Instead of complying, the bastard SIR unit ran out of the house and yelled out something about shooting barrels in a fish.

"Gaz-human," Zim muttered as he straightened himself out. The purple kitchen echoed his uncomfortable shift in his posture. Gaz didn't move a fucking muscle, furthering her reputation as something of a cold-hearted bitch.

"Zim," she replied, with a voice drenched in psychotic stoicism.

"Well, what's this proposition? And make it quick, I have to make sure Gir doesn't blow something up again."

Gaz cleared her throat and began. "This is one of my brother's hard drives. I'm here to give it to you."

Zim's eyes stayed locked on her, scanning her body for any sign of nervousness or discomfort. Past interrogations of so-called 'Jehovah's Witnesses' who had appeared at his door led him to believe that humans display specific quirks when placed either under incredible pressure or into situations that they are not prepared for.

Suddenly, a chain of explosions sounded off outside. Zim peeked around Gaz's shoulder and caught a green dog chasing a squirrel while carrying some heavy artillery.

"Walk with me," he said.

As they exited the house and were greeted by the oppressive source of life and skin cancer known as the sun, Zim continued the conversation.

"Why would you betray your own species? I mean, fuck Dib, I get that, but why everyone else?" He asked.

Gaz shrugged, her purple bangs bouncing on her shoulders. "Because maybe we've gotten outta hand and we need something to come around and shake things up. We're not getting any smarter, nor are we exactly doing our best to change that. We're a stupid race of weenie eaters and techno-fetishists. We need change."

"Hmm… a weak philosophy, but I'll take it. So what's on the floppy?"

She handed it to him so that he could inspect it. "About five percent of all the information my brother has on you."

Zim was surprised to find that it was, in fact, a genuine floppy disk. But he knew it wasn't this easy. "So what's the, as humans call it, catch?"

Gaz watched Zim as he put the floppy disk in his mouth, between his jagged teeth, and bent down to tie up a sleeping Gir to the tree to prevent him from running off. He ran his hand over the robot's green suit and got up and returned to his visitor.

"The catch," she said as she slowly took the floppy disk from Zim's mouth, a tiny drop of green saliva dropping on to her index finger, "is that you must do something for me. A favour or task for me, another floppy for you." She saw that Zim was staring at the floppy disk and thinking over what her offer. While he was distracted with thoughts, she cleanly licked the saliva off her finger, shivering slightly at the almost electric feeling it gave her. She could taste the little shocks go off across her tongue and down her throat.

"Well, what do you say? You can even have this one for free." She wasn't sure if the pitch would work, but she'd decided to try it anyways.

Zim hmm'd and haa'd about it before ultimately saying, "Fine. I agree, Gaz-human."

She grinned and said, "Excellent. I'll be back tomorrow to give you another one. Just be prepared to keep up your side of the deal." Zim held up the floppy, shook it a bit with his loosened grip, and nodded. "I will," he muttered.

"Alright. See you tomorrow." Before she could finish, Zim was in the door and closing.

"See you."

It was around 3:30 AM when Dib had gone to sleep. He quietly snored away while dreaming of nothing. In a matter of moments, his computer turned on by an invisible force and began streaming large and complex lines of code. In the next room over, Gaz typed away fanatically on an old computer that looked like it was the 1980's. Once the computer beeped loudly, she pulled out a floppy disk out of the disk drive and looked at it. Another five percent of her brother's life work. "This is why you don't keep copies on your own unprotected computer, you stupid fuck," she growled to herself in satisfaction.

She smirked as she got up from her desk, undressed herself and slipped into bed. Gaz put it on the night stand next to her, and pulled a tiny ragdoll from under her pillow. It looked an awful lot like a certain local alien. She fell asleep clutching it close to her breasts, smiling.

Zim watched the screen in absolute amazement. Schematics of the Massive, theories about Operation Impending Doom II, diagrams of Irken anatomy that even made him feel uneasy, and charts mapping out possible planets beyond this solar system that might have been marked for bloody conquest.

"How the fffuck…?" Zim asked the silent images, flashing before him. They said nothing, but continued to flash elements of Zim's existence like a schizophrenic mirror. Once all the files had been downloaded into his computer's database, he wiped the sweat from his nonexistent brow. If this was only five percent, what more does Dib's collection contain? More than he might know of his own race? Hidden aspects of the grand mission? What?

Suddenly, the computer broke through his thoughts. "Sir, there's a file image that hadn't been analyzed. It's decrypted, but it doesn't seem to have the same techno-print as the others."

"Eh? Decrypt it and bring it to the main screen!"

After a moment or two, a picture of larger-than-average cleavage filled up the screen.

Zim's jaw dropped.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

…

Hello, all. Hope you enjoyed it. This is my second account on here, so I'm aware of how this works.

Please review and stick around for future developments.

Take care, y'all.

~iamcurrentlynothere