Author's Notes: So… I started another fanfic. What else would I be doing? Homework? Not so much! I apologize. I wish I was more focused on finishing the ones I've started. I just thought I'd give everyone an idea of what my documents folder looks like.
There's half-done fanfiction bloody everywhere!
Warnings: There will be the typical angst and lack of romance in this fic. Also, expect a couple OCs to pop up eventually, and there will most likely be some out of characterness. Whether or not that will be explainable at a later time is still up for debate in my brain. Yes. No. Yes. Maybe. I am writing an angst fic, and a humor fic… so what about an angsty humor fic? Think it'll work?
There will also be mentions of suicide, nakedness (not sexual), and violence.
Let's experiment Vortian style! Opp opp opp… I've got to get that song out of my head…
Good Luck
There was always some kind of noise to be heard. The whirring of the force field with the occasional snap or crackle of electricity, the sound of the guard's heavy boots as they patrolled the halls, the hum of the computer and other devices he had been allowed to keep as long as he used them to work, and every so often the clatter of something being dropped from one of the other cells somewhere down the line.
He spent hours going over data programming, tinkering with the different codes. It wasn't too different from before except for the complete lack of freedom. There were no more coffee breaks or collaboration with fellow workers... everyone, for the most part, was kept separate from one another unless absolutely necessary.
The guards made terrible conversation... in fact they hardly spoke to the prisoners at all. Occasionally there would be a command of some kind delivered from a superior or whatever, but there was hardly ever any idle chit-chat. He missed that the most; talking for the sake of talking.
This was why when he got an occasional call from a certain someone, he always responded.
Who cared if it cost him food rations or got him zapped? He needed some kind of social interaction.
Luckily he hadn't been caught talking to this strange fellow or smuggling things out of the prison, so he hadn't gotten punished yet. Now that was a funny thing to think about: punishment. The guards could only do so much because the prisoners needed to be kept in relatively good condition. That meant arms and fingers couldn't be broken, and blunt force trauma to the head was frowned upon by the superiors.
Legs seemed to be fair game though, and getting shocked was a pretty common thing. Sometimes rations were cut. He also heard about the odd beatings that happened every so often, but most of the blows landed on the body and not the head or face, so that guy was ready to work in less than a day.
It took the other guy two days to recover. Some people healed faster than others.
He wasn't sure how many months it had been. Ten? Eleven? That was another thing he never bothered to ask about. "Hey, how long have you guys been occupying my planet for?" didn't really seem like the best question to ask.
Quite frequently he was bored. He was supposed to design more weapons... Fine. He'd show them blueprints. Try something that would zap the user HA! Of course that would be bad for the test-subjects.
If they lived and weren't too badly electrocuted they might get a laugh out of it. Laughing wasn't really allowed either now that he thought about it.
In any case, his friends would be better off if he stuck to the plans. Fine, it was settled. What was he doing again?
He blinked. His train of thought was gone. Time to start a new one...
Should he or shouldn't he include seat belts on the Giga-Doomer? No wait... think of something else; something more interesting. How long would they be under this oppressive regime? No no. Too depressing. Will he ever get married? What? Where did that thought come from?
He was trying not to think about depressing things.
Oh well... maybe someone will call. That would be fun... for a few minutes anyway.
He started to hum.
Too bad the cot was so uncomfortable or he might try sleeping.. but if he slept now he wouldn't be able to sleep later. That could be a problem. When did the last meal come? Three hours ago? Something like that. There wouldn't be any more food until evening and that wouldn't be for another five hours.
Five hours of thinking meaningless things. Oh boy.
How was Dougie doing? Did he still have that limp? Poor guy... no one has tried resisting the guards since that happened last week.
Resisting? Who said he was going to escape and start doing that..? One of his co-workers probably. Did that guy ever get past the devices that were supposed to make you explode? He couldn't remember hearing about any explosions, well, except for the first guy who got to demonstrate how the doors worked. Cripes that had been messy...
He watched the powerful electric current making up the cell bars. He'd touched it once. It hurt like heck.
Maybe he should start thinking about the Giga-Doomer again... it was his next project. The Mega-Doomer had been fun to sabotage. How could he wreck this one without making it look like he did it on purpose?
His humming stopped. He could hear the clack clack of the guard's boots coming down the hall. They didn't like humming, or singing, or whistling, or anything really. It was better to be quiet. Keep your head down and they'll pass right by.
Yup. He'll most likely pass right by. Possibly. Why had the footsteps stopped outside his cell? Now the electrical current was parting. Oh dear. He really didn't want to end up getting strangled again... although he couldn't remember if he'd done anything recently to warrant a physical assault, not that it mattered too much. The guards could knock him around for almost anything.
Instead of ducking behind his desk and cowering like he wanted, he slowly turned to face the guard who was approaching. If they accuse me of anything just play dumb, he silently told himself. That's right. I'll be the dumbest Vortian ever… what did you hide under your mattress they'll ask, and I'll be like "what mattress!?" Ha ha… yeah. I'm getting zapped for sure today.
"Prisoner 777," the guard had a frown on his face. That wasn't a good sign, although the guards usually didn't look too happy. Actually, most of the Irkens here seemed to have only three emotions: angry, angrier, and mildly amused at the prisoners' lame attempts to avoid getting shocked.
He swallowed and slowly opened his mouth to respond, but the guard continued. "Come with me."
There was no way he could refuse. He slid off his chair and followed after the guard who had already turned to leave. This would be one of the best chances he had to escape in a while, but one glance at the long sickle in the authority figure's hand, and he lost all his nerve.
Bravery had never really been his thing.
The hallway seemed to stretch on forever. Then when he thought they might be reaching their destination, they turned into another hallway. Apparently he wasn't being taken to the lab or the engineering site... he squeezed his hands into fists. Maybe they were going to execute him.
"Um ah..." his voice returned when he thought of what could happen. His mouth was dry. He wished he had some water. "Where are we going...?"
In an instant the sickle was shoved close to his face. He backed up and let out a small squeak of surprise. All his dignity was gone now, not that he had much of it in the first place. Yeah... that had been flushed down the proverbial toilet along with his self-respect months ago.
"You don't ask the questions," the guard insisted as he retracted the frightening weapon. "Follow me and stay quiet."
His whole body was shaking now. He mentally kicked himself for not being able to hide it. Grinding his teeth, he lowered his eyes and obediently followed after the guard.
They rode a platform down to the next level. Another hall... and then they came to some big intimidating steel doors. He stopped a good distance behind the guard and stared.
Two other guards were standing at the entrance, keeping watch. They saluted and moved to open the doors. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and willed himself to step forward into the room as his mind raced over all the best and worst-case scenarios.
They'd discovered his secret communication link. He was a goner. Maybe he was being released! What did he do to get released...? Nothing. Shoot. They were going to kill him. They figured out he sabotaged the Megadoomer and now he was dead. Maybe someone paid off his captors to get him released! Who did he know that had that kind of monies? No one. He was going to die today...
Then he saw his former co-worker; the one who had escaped. Lard Nar! That was his name. How could he forget? They spent months working on the designs for the Massive together. He was covered in bruises and cuts. The poor guy could barely stand. One of his arms was obviously broken. What was this? Was it some kind of interrogation?
His chest became heavy and he gaped at all the guards. This was an execution for sure! What about all his grand plans? ... Well some of them were grand anyway. There were still lots of things he wanted to design and build, and what about maybe one day falling in love and having a family?
Ok... the chances of that happening were slim to none... especially in prison, but still!
He could see the hostility in the Irkens' eyes. They glowered at him as he was led towards the center of the room. He came to stand beside his former co-worker who muttered an apology before collapsing to one knee.
"Ah... It's alright," he spoke. Was it really alright? He felt weighed down by his impending doom. He was trying not to tremble, and there was a squeezing pressure in his chest. Maybe he would end up dying of a heart attack before they had a chance to kill him.
That would be hilarious. There would be absolutely no chance of reclaiming any of his dignity if that happened. He almost laughed out loud, but he stopped himself. Laughing wouldn't help his situation. He needed to keep his wits about him.
First he took a quick look around the room. There were a dozen guards. The exit was being blocked, and Lard Nar was barely conscious.
He wished he had some better memories for when his life flashed before his eyes. Being only able to recall beakers, diagrams, and coding was slightly depressing. Oh ok. He could have gone the rest of his life without picturing the former Tallest getting eaten by that horrible worm thing. Yep. That was pretty gross.
Plan plan, think of a plan... there was no way he could fight off one guard, never mind twelve, so that option was discarded. Option two: reason with the Irkens. He'd already tried that for other things... it never went over well. Reasoning was out of the question then. Run and hide...? That would be possible.
He could see a grate not too far away. If he could make it to that, he might be able to slip into the catacombs.
He could live off condensation and the weird green stuff that sometimes grows on damp surfaces down there. Yeah… that was realistic. Besides, if he ran away, would they kill Lard Nar? They were probably going to kill him anyway, and it wasn't like his former co-worker was in any shape to run for it... since when had he become so selfish?
Since always, coward remember? He berated himself.
"Do you have anything to say in your defense prisoner 777?" the largest guard questioned. Apparently the Irken had been talking for a while now... oh crud.
"I uh... I have a pretty solid alibi..." he replied. Perhaps he sounded too witty, because that answer earned him a good jolt. Yeowch it stung.
"We've accessed your computer's files," the guard informed him. "We found an unknown caller id number. Were you contacting this rebel?" he pointed an accusing finger at Lard Nar.
"Uh... no..." Prisoner 777 responded. "You see... I used to um... work with someone... and uh... he calls me sometimes... they should all be incoming transmissions right...? I never called anyone..."
"Who was this person?" the guard demanded.
"It was Zim," Prisoner 777 decided to answer honestly. "Yeah, just Zim..." He'd been wondering if the guards ever screened incoming transmissions to the prison. Apparently the answer was 'not really.' How lucky.
"Why did he call?"
"Oh uh..." this was the tricky part... he couldn't just go and say he'd given the little Irken Vortian technology without permission... "Something about conquering a planet... I guess he moved onto bigger and better things after Vort Lab nine.. I wish I could say the same, but oh well. That's life I guess. Am I in trouble?"
The bulky guard looked down at him. "That depends on how you answer the next few questions."
"Ok." He suspected he wouldn't be able to walk out of here no matter how he answered, but hope was hope.
"Do you know him at all?"
Again the guard gestured to Lard Nar.
"Yes," he replied. "We worked together before the invasion…"
"Have you had any contact with him since?"
"Huh..." he tapped his chin. "I'm not really sure. I might have spoken to him in prison. I mean, um… I'm pretty sure we talked at some point at some time…
"What did you say to each other?" the guard pressed.
"Pass me that wrench' or 'nice day for slave labour' probably," Prisoner 777 answered. He didn't mean to sound like he was making fun of the situation, but he tended to joke when he got nervous, and he was so nervous right now he felt sick to his stomach.
"Told you..." Lard Nar breathed. He tried to stand up straight, but every small movement seemed to be causing him a lot of pain. "He... doesn't know... anything..."
"Am I supposed to know something?" Prisoner 777 questioned, looking at the guard and then at Lard Nar.
"Heh..." the guard smirked. "You were the one who gave us his name Lard Nar."
Prisoner 777 ran a hand down his face. "Look um... I really don't know anything about what's going on here... honest."
"Maybe a bit of torture will refresh your memory," the guard said, jabbing his shock stick at him.
Prisoner 777 clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as the electricity coursed through his body. "Nope... pretty sure that'll just make me faint..." he mumbled, holding his head. The room was starting to spin. Yup. He was going to lose consciousness for sure at this rate.
"Pfft..."
All of the guards suddenly stood at attention as their eyes shifted towards the entrance. He slowly turned to see what they were looking at. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock.
One of their leaders, the one in purple armor, was covering his mouth to muffle a laugh. The other leader, the one dressed in red, was looking right at him with an amused expression on his face.
"He'll faint," the purple one said, chuckling. "That's pretty funny."
"S-Sirs," The lead guard stammered. "I wasn't expecting you..." he glanced around at all the stunned looks of the guards in the room. "We weren't expecting you," he corrected.
"Of course you weren't," the red one remarked raising an invisible brow as he switched his attention to the guard. "We didn't say we were coming."
"Yeah, the trial took forever... even though it was just supposed to be a formality or whatever," the purple Tallest said. One of his antennae twitched, and he frowned. "Some formality that was!"
"I uh... did things not go well?" the guard asked.
"Zim's corrupt data made the control brains go insane..." the red Tallest grumbled, bringing a hand to his forehead. "Among other things."
"Terrible things. That's why we're here. We needed to get off that death-trap for a minute," the purple one added. He dropped his gaze to Prisoner 777. "So what's going on here?"
The red one at his fellow Tallest. "You forgot?"
"Yeah," he waved towards some of the guards. "They can remind me."
"We were just interrogating the rebel leader and one of his accomplices," the lead guard explained.
Accomplice...? Prisoner 777 glanced briefly at Lard Nar. "Just what have you been telling these people?"
"Sorry..." the barely conscious Vortian muttered. "It was...it just slipped out..."
"What? Why?" Prisoner 777 asked as he tried to suppress another wave of dread, and nausea, and dizziness. This was turning into a fantastic day. "Why would that slip out? I've never even skipped out on paying my taxes though why they needed so much money to build that tower I'll never…"
Again the freaky looking shock-stick was jabbed in his direction. He winced, expecting another jolt of electricity. He should have known better than to talk to the other captive... when prisoners started talking, the guards got all zappy-happy. Ha ha. Zappy happy. It rhymed.
"Hey, enough with the dramatics," the red one stated; his eyes narrowing at the guard. "We didn't come here to watch you zap Vortians into a gooey mess."
"Sorry sir," the guard's captain stated, standing up straight and returning the shock-stick to its former position.
No pain...? Prisoner 777 cracked open an eye.
"We know what happened in the lab," the red Tallest explained. He was talking to him, the one they called prisoner number 777? Was this real? Maybe he was daydreaming... or they already killed him and this was some kind of pre-death imagination thing, although he didn't really want to spend his last few seconds of life imagining he was talking to the Tallest. "Most of Irk already knows about it."
"Yeah, to think Zim killed Tallest Miyuki and Tallest Spork," the purple one spoke, shaking his head.
"It really isn't that surprising that he did it completely on his own, unaided by anyone else," the red Tallest commented. "With the amount of destruction he seems to cause…"
"Yeah, hindsight and all that," Prisoner 777 agreed nervously. This was his chance to get himself out of this mess... he risked a quick glance at Lard Nar. The accused rebel's eyes weren't staying open, and he was beginning to teeter where he knelt.
He wasn't a brave soul. He really didn't want to end up like Lard Nar.
"What?" the purple one questioned. One of his antennae flicked forward slightly.
"It means now that we look back on the situation, it seems obvious that it was Zim's fault," the red Tallest explained.
"Oh. Yeah. Pretty much."
"We threw the blame onto the Vortians because it was easier, but since we haven't been able to control Zim either…"
"Ugh… remember when he wiped out half the armada with that red planet?"
The red one squinted an eye at the other Tallest. "You're bringing that up now? Really?"
The purple Tallest shrugged.
"Anyway, I think the real question is... what should we do now?" the red Tallest asked, rubbing his chin. "It's too late to make peace with Vort since we kind of destroyed a lot of it, and imprisoned the survivors to work for us."
Prisoner 777 perked up a bit. They were actually talking about making peace? No wait... the red one said it was too late for that... His heart sank. He was going to end up spending the rest of his days in a smallish prison cell, designing weapons for the Irkens, without pay... or social contact... and no pension! What was he going to do when he got too old to make things? Becoming a beggar on Foodcourtia?
At least that would be some years in the future... or he could die now and be dead. Either option was kind of a bummer.
"So uh... I guess I go back to my cell then?" he ventured.
Both Tallest looked at him with bemused expressions. The red one smirked. "Eager to continue your life sentence are you?"
"Well uh... I mean, being slowly driven insane through boredom and isolation doesn't seem so bad anymore... after uh..." He waved absently with his hand. "This... not that I really want to continue it or anything... haha..."
"Then don't," the purple one told him.
"Beg your pardon?" he must have heard the Tallest wrong.
"You hear that?" the red Tallest asked the surrounding guards. "That guy has our permission to leave."
"The room my Tallest?" the guard questioned in confusion.
"Yes the room, and the prison," the red one remarked irritably. "How else do you want me to say it?"
The guard shrank back. "Forgive me my Tallest..."
"Sure whatever," the Tallest wearing the red armour said, waving dismissively. "Break up the party guys."
"Yup, show's over," the purple one spoke, waving them away.
This was just too amazing! Prisoner 777 wanted to leave as quickly as possible before their sudden bizarre order was changed. He headed for the door, feeling quite excited. Of course they were probably joking and he was going to get mauled as soon as he left the room, but there was only one way to find out for sure.
"What about the rebel my Tallest?" one of the other guards asked, motioning to Lard Nar.
Prisoner 777 froze. Oh yeah… his co-worker was still on death row. How could he forget something like that?
"You mean the guy you beat half to death?" the purple one questioned with a puzzled frown.
"He's the leader of the rebels who are trying to kill you my Tallest," the leader of the guard stated. "He's dangerous... I mean... some of his followers are still out there."
"Ehh..." Purple pondered for a moment. "Throw him out the airlock I guess."
"Um uh... could I say something?" Prisoner 777 asked as he turned to face Irk's leaders. He swallowed down his fear while his mind raced, trying to find an answer about why he was doing this. The soul searing guilt most likely... if he stood by and watch Lard Nar die, he wouldn't be able to go on living... like he had before... feeling all guilt free.
He would never kill himself on purpose. Nope, suicide was never an option, even though his family was locked up who knows where, and he had begun feeling rather alone and very much isolated. Now he was risking his possible chance at freedom for a former co-worker he could barely remember.
Why couldn't he be like most people who made self-preservation their main priority? He usually did! This was out of character, and wrong, and he was getting himself in trouble, and why was he doing this? What else could he possibly think to make himself change his mind?
"He might be a rebel leader or whatever, but he's also a brilliant engineer," Prisoner 777 explained, despite his wishing he would just shut up. He could feel his chest constricting. Never mind his loss of his maybe freedom, this was going to get him killed for sure... "I'd hate to lose a former co-worker like that... so maybe... I dunno... maybe you could not kill him...?"
"So he can try to kill us again later?" The crimson eyed Tallest questioned, raising an invisible brow.
"No no... look... um... he'll owe you guys one right?" Seriously, he should've just kept his mouth shut. The way the Tallest were looking at him made him want to melt into the floor. They didn't seem angry, but that was the scary part! At least with anger he had some idea of what to expect. They were just staring at him looking perplexed and maybe disappointed or impassive or entertained, and reading expressions had never really been his thing either.
"That still sounds like a risky idea to me," the red one commented.
"Yeah, me too," the lavender eyed Tallest agreed. "It'd be better to blow him up or something."
"I... I'll take responsibility..." Prisoner 777 offered in a small unsure voice. "If he tries anything... you can blow us both up."
The Tallest wearing purple squinted an eye and the other one continued to stare. Of course they could choose to blow them both up right now... stupid. Why was he saying all of these dumb things? He glanced at Lard Nar still teetering on the verge of collapse, and his heart constricted. No one should be brutally beaten and killed like that, but it had happened a couple times before. No one spoke up to even try and rescue those people.
Maybe the guilt from those times had been gathering under the surface, and now when he should have been playing coward the most, he was talking back to their captors.
"You'd be forfeiting your chance for freedom," the red one told him plainly. "And you'll have to watch that guy," he gestured at Lard Nar. "All the time, every day."
"Y-yeah..." Prisoner 777 spoke, rubbing one of his arms nervously. "But um... life is an important thing so... I'll do it..."
Stupid! Irkens didn't understand the importance of life! That's why they went around killing everything!
"Say it with more confidence, and we'll go with it," the purple one said, sounding rather indifferent. "Right now you seem like you don't know what you want."
"And we might decide to kill him down the road anyway," the red one remarked with a shrug. "You'll get more benefit from walking away right now."
"I still want to do this..." Prisoner 777 said, meeting their gaze briefly before returning his attention to the floor. Nice floor. Did they polish it?
"Alright, we got it," the red Tallest said as he turned to the outspoken guard. "Make the necessary preparations."
"Yes sir," the guard gave a quick salute before leading half of the other guard out of the room. The rest remained behind, looking as stern as ever. Two of them stepped forwards and snagged Lard Nar by the arms, and the rebel cried out in pain. They hauled him into the hallway after the other guard.
The remaining armed Irkens surrounded prisoner 777. He flinched and brought his arms close to his chest, expecting to be dragged out just as forcefully as his former co-worker.
"We're escorting you back to your cell, so walk on your own," one of them told him irritably.
"Oh uh... ok..." Prisoner 777 replied, dropping his arms back down. He started towards the door, catching a quick glance over his shoulder at Irk's leaders. For some reason they hadn't killed him...and they'd even listened to his request. The Tallest never listened to anyone except maybe an adviser or something.
He gulped and ran a hand down his face. What would they do if they ever found out he gave Zim top secret Vortian technology he wondered.
He really should have left while he had the chance...
More Notes: Near death experiences can do weird things for people… for the Tallest, it gave them a moment of nice. Or so it seems. This fic takes place right after Zim's trial in the trial episode that never aired.