Collab with: ZiMagateophobia (Go read their work. Do it.)
Zim frowned, mindlessly gazing upon the sidewalk below as he walked. This entire day has felt… off. His rival had been entirely too distant for his taste - not that he necessarily wanted to be in close proximity with that malevolent child - but there had not been one single fight. Not a glare or insult; not even a snide remark.
No acknowledgement.
Letting out a sigh, he found himself still, lost in thought as his gaze travelled the red sky. The Irken forced his legs to move passed the fence, limbs carrying him to the familiar purple door, hand reaching out.
The door slammed behind him harder than usual. Something was wrong and as little as it should matter to him, well, it certainly did! Dib was that small piece of sanity he had left on this horrific planet he'd dared to call home. They certainly did not get along, but the unexplainable attachment to the human remained there.
"How was skoool, Master?" The SIR unit emerged from who knows where, presenting a plate of his master's favourite Earth food, "I made waffles!"
The sickeningly-sweet scent suffocated the alien, insides tossing and churning. "Gir, get that FILTH you call food out of my face!"
The robot stared with his big, cyan eyes. Normally his master would go on ranting for days about the human boy and how he ruined his plans yet again, but the Irken did not seem to desire his company at all, well, more than usual, that is..
The alien stood there for several moments, disregarding Gir's reaction as he contemplated.
Why had the Dib acted the way he did today? Has he been so oblivious that he completely overlooked something that was bothering the child..? Was his enemy just simply sick of their games?
Zim was certainly not one to just sit and wait. He would spy on the boy himself, almost amused by the flipped tables - the turned over - the - err...
Whatever! Little did Dib know, Zim had snuck into his room during the child's slumber to plant a hidden camera months ago while disguised as a radioactive cockroach. Ha! Pure genius!
Gir fled through the arch of the kitchen doorway, the Irken not far behind. Zim approached the teal-green toilet as he has done time and time again, carefully stepping inside and figuring himself at just the right angle before pulling the lever.
He dropped down the chute that led his body to the elevator, bracing himself before his feet touched ground. As soon as the elevator started to fall deeper into the Earth, he removed his wig and contacts, eyes irritated beyond belief. His antennae gasped in the fresh air, the Irken stretching to release his tense muscles, giving his lids a rub before blinking away the burning sensation, mouth scrunching.
He really needed to look into holographic disguises. This primal, physical appearance was simply too much maintenance for him to bear.
He was out of the elevator before the doors had fully opened, settling himself on the only chair within the vast room of screens and controls. "Computer," he swallowed. "Access Dibcam R34."
After the lack of a response on the computer's end, his mouth started to twitch. He had expected a retort, or at the very least, a groan - but there was nothing. A growl bubbled within his throat.
"Show me the Dib's resting chamber at once!" he slammed his fists down against the control panel.
Said window finally appeared, revealing a small, dark room belonging to none other than the infamous Dib Membrane: His one and only rival that stood in the way of total planet annihilation.
And the human was on his bed with.. a gun? The Irken had made no mistake. He blinked twice to confirm it. Dib had a gun, the scene far too serious for the alien to comprehend. His rival was sitting there - staring at the object within his clutches. Silent. Shaking. The child was whispering something incoherent.
He was not quite certain of what to think. What was the human doing? Why did he contain a weapon, and at such an odd hour? As far as the Irken was concerned, Dib was normally getting to sleep around this time of night. He did stay up later than most, he had observed, but this..?
"Computer," the Irken fought for words, eyes shifting across the video feed in his bewilderment. "What is he..?"
Another window popped up beside the feed. It was an article of sorts, with a phone number below the image. It was an endless wall of text, and the more he read, the more his spine started to crawl.
Suicide Prevention… He didn't understand. The human was seriously thinking of leaving everything behind? His life's work, his family… him?
Wait. What on Irk was he thinking?! Leaving him?! Pah! Good riddance! The Irken clenched his fists, eyeing the screen once again. Observing. Denying.
Gyck.. No! That's not how this worked! That's not how any of this worked! The Dib could not give up! Otherwise, he...
There was a faint glimmer on his cheek as the child fidgeted with his inner demons, quivering lips parting. "No one would care," the Irken's antennae perked. He felt himself tense as his enemy stood from the dark sheets and made his way to his door, hand touching upon the lock.
The alien wasn't sure what he was feeling. It was different than what he was used to - upsetting and uncertainty, an overwhelming pressure in his throat and chest. His squeedilyspooch was compressing, limbs heavy, his eyes wet..
The Irken trembled slightly as he stood. "Don't you dare pull that trigger, you disgusting, human filth monster," he decided. It was an extremely bold move, and it might cost him more than he's willing to give, but…
This was Dib. The child that has always been there for him, regardless of in what way. He constantly hovered, constantly threw insults, chased him through the streets and tortured him until he was a desperate pile of goop, but - He was there. And it meant that much more to the Irken to seek his enemy's well-being.
He shook himself from his thoughts, forcing his limbs to carry him back to the elevator, not daring to glance back to the screen. He rode the elevator up to the surface, eyeing his shaking hands. As soon as he reached the house, he was bolting through the kitchen. He didn't care if he knocked Gir down, or that the door did not shut all the way - nevermind his disguise - legs racing as quick as the pounding in his antennae. Acid battered at his exposed flesh, the heavy rain making it difficult to see the road ahead of him.
But nothing - not a mission, not conquest, not even his leaders - has ever mattered more to him in his entire life.
The Irken unsheathed his aid as he approached the all too familiar residence, Pak legs carrying him up to the window of his enemy. Peering through the glass as a low rumble danced about the sky, Zim looked upon his enemy. The child was pressing the weapon to his head, shoulders trembling. His empty gaze was trained on something intangible.
The Irken swallowed, singed, gloved fingers against the icy surface.
The human slowly became aware of the faint movement, turning his head up to his window.
The alien felt his insides jolt as amber met crimson.
His mouth was moving, words forming something short and simple, but the rain drowned him out completely. On.. the.. news? Olive juice? What on Irk was he saying?! The child had seemed to repeat it several times, lips slowly growing still.
The alien stiffened from the shift of Dib's arm. The child looked away, eyes shutting tight. "Dib-!" he jerked from the flash of light. The vibration of the bang echoed to the clouds and back, his antennae sizzling and bristling, skin beyond repair, rain continuing to pelt it.
The body was frozen where it sat, smoke rising from the muzzle. The Irken cried out as his enemy fell to the sheets below in a heap, hand releasing the gun, fingers curling back up slowly.
The Irken smashed the glass with his aid, wind and rain roaring into the bedroom. "Dib!" the Invader hissed, breaths coming up short. The sheets were getting soaked from the outside elements, and something deep red accompanied it. Zim swallowed as he entered the dwelling, uniform snagging on the shards. The child's glasses were cracked and askew, bullet wound gaping straight through to the back of his skull.
The alien stared down at the body of his nemesis, his eyes burning with an emotion he hardly grazed. "Dib-beast," he attempted.
The child remained unmoving, blood leaking out on his pillow under him.
"Dib," the Irken tried to comprehend, tears starting to fall, the acid still pounding him from behind. After realization had hit him - and it hit him hard - Zim knelt down and pulled the corpse of his enemy into his arms. Those horrible tears he tried so hard to not shed were pouring down his cheeks, antennae buzzing from the pained sobs escaping his lips.
The body was so cold - Dib was so cold, the fleeting warmth..
Time had seemed to slow, his pulse loud in his feelers. There was an absence of heartbeat under his fingers and chest, the world around him growing dark. The child failed to respond to his touch, completely slumped in the arms that had never showed such comfort like they did now.
All that was left was the human's blank gaze. Red trickled down from the smoking wound, eyes eerily still.
Zim's brow furrowed through his tears as the remaining light left his enemy's eyes. He sat there, at a loss of how to handle the situation. His body was trying to do things he could not even begin to understand, his breath coming quicker and quicker, world bleary from overwhelming emotion.
He held the human for so long - embraced his lifelong nemesis to his chest until the storm had cleared. A deep, purple hue was starting to fill the horizon, sun not far behind it. His tears were dried over, eyes blank and unfocused. The suffocating scent of his enemy's blood was wafting through the room, the disgusting aftermath of polluted rainwater mixing with it enough to make the alien gag.
Why had Dib.. why had he…?
His breath returned to him shallow, and cold. Questions were swarming his mind, and his eyes were worn and heavy, but.. He no longer felt.
Blood pounded in his antennae as he released the body of his late nemesis, gaze cold and unfocused. He rose with the very gun that his human had taken his own life with, turning it over in his singed hand. He stared down at the weight in his palm. The Irken knew what he had to do.
Gaz's room. She was the worst, out of everyone who had ever come in contact with the Dib-human. She has always taunted him and hurt him in ways that only he should be allowed to.
The door creaked open, the noise drawled out in the still air. The Irken peeked his crimson orbs into the dark room. A forbidden place. His gaze landed on the child curled up under the lavender covers. She was fast asleep, a plush pig secure in her arms.
Hmn.. Zim smirked down at her from the bedside. If the Gaz-demon is dead, she will have no more use for such a thing. After all, Gir would adore a new toy. The alien grinned devilishly as he swiped the animal. He leered down at her as the human stirred from the disturbance, intense gaze upon her. No words were exchanged between them.
She was horrified. There was red smeared all over the Irken above her. She could not get a word out as her mouth started to tremble.
And that quiver of fear fueled Zim that much more. His pulse raced. Revenge was imminent. They caused Dib to kill himself, and now it was their turn. The alien raised the laser to her head, pulling the trigger as her jaw dropped to scream. The beam went clean through, red splattering the stuffed animals behind her. Blood leaked from the posters, covers stained with it.
The Irken watched what was once Dib's sister collapse back into the gory mess of brains and life fluid, a disgusting squelch hanging in the air. Her eyes, too, glazed over just like her brother's had. Her face was permanently frozen in fear, the life slowly escaping her pupils, a most satisfying victory for Zim.
He sneered, hugging the bloody pig to his chest. Now that she was gone, it was time to head to his next destination. But first...He looked around the room that was decorated in various shades of purple, and now, red. On a desk in the back of the room was her precious GameSlave. He left the gun on the edge of the bed.
The alien eyed the device with visible desire, looming over the console with a sneer. Zim had wanted it since day one. This one, specifically - just to watch the human squirm in distaste from the lack of contact with her precious Gameslave. And now that the child was dead, well.. why not? He snatched it with a wire, Pak keeping it close and tucked way.
"Goodnight, little Gaz," the Irken cooed as he slunked out, clicking the door shut to leave the body to rot in the dark, lavender cavern.
Now for his next target. Dib's second biggest tormentor.
Professor Membrane. The father who never was.
MEMBRANE'S CHAMBERS. Zim stared up at the gleaming arch of letters. Did he really need a title above his bedroom door? As if the room was sacred to all who encountered it.
Despicable. And to top it all off, there was a fingerprint scanner to the left of the impressive doorway.
To think that the man held his safety above his children's.. How disgusting.
He would bash the scanner and use brutal force, but the well-renowned scientist would probably have the house fully equipped with defense tactics to rid the house of any intruders, and he certainly did not wish to get involved with that.
He glanced around before turning away from the door. This would be difficult. Anything he touched in the entirety of his house was covered by neoprene gloves. He would target the household's restroom, but his nemesis had once told him that he has never, not once in his life, ever seen his father actually use their restroom. Which, logically, makes sense to some extent. The man was always at his lab. No time to be home and actually use the necessities. So, does that mean he bathed at work? Or simply did not bathe?
Wait. What if Membrane was not beyond that door at all? What if he was at work? Did the scientist even sleep? Was this room behind the door simply for appearances? Was there even a room at all? Perhaps it was just a door built into the wall. He has certainly come across those in skool every now and then. A few classrooms, some bathrooms, the teacher's lounge..
A drip of red returned Zim back to reality. His crimson gaze traced over its source, the human's blood trailing down his glove. He watched it break away from a thread at the tip of his index, a tiny splish echoing in his sensors. A small, subtle thing. Unimportant. Akin to a life, taken in the middle of the night. Unnoticed. Underappreciated.
The Irken stared coldly at the small puddle of red, the liquid illuminated in the gentle glow of letters above the doorway. The skin of his cheek stirred as the burns were irritated by a fresh stream. Tears. He had spilled so many over his nemesis's corpse. His bloody.. lifeless corpse. Someone he has come to hold so dear… Just.. gone.
He clenched his teeth through the returning emotional onslaught, his gloved, bloody claws clutching at his chest. The Irken shut his eyes tight, vision too bleary to keep them open.
No. Enough tears. Irkens were supposed to be unbreakable, merciless soldiers. No emotions. No weakness. No sadness. No tears. No…
In one moment, Zim was upright. The next, he was down. Collapsed. Keeled over. On the floor. Wallowing in tears and his nemesis's blood, back against the corner between the door and scanner above his head. His chest shuddered as he sobbed.
So many tears. So many… His Pak was screaming at him. Scolding him to quit acting so much like a.. human.
But he couldn't help it! His nemesis was - he was-!
Zim threw his head back to shriek in agony, tears flying. Red smearing the floor. Pak legs scrambling hysterically. This pain in his chest..! This overwhelming pain..!
He wailed through the flood of alien emotion, crimson eyes burning from the relentless tears. So many of them..! Such a horrible rage.. such emotion.. so much regret.
Everything that was left unsaid. What could have been. What never was. What never will be.
His lips quivered as fresh, evil streams mercilessly poured over his scathed flesh. Was his body draining itself? Were tears to slowly rid one's self of all bodily fluids? To sap the body of all liquid? Was he dying? Was this Dib's last and final plan to destroy him, by taking his own life?
The Irken gasped slightly from the shift behind him. He stumbled to stand as the door opened.
"Please, no pictures. It's in the middle of the night," the tall man rubbed at an eye. No goggles. No lab coat, or gloves. He had Dib's eye colour…
"Aha! Dib's little foreign friend! What seems to be the problem?" He tried to smile through his sleep-deprived state, though a yawn managed to break through. "What is that you're covered in?" He chuckled pleasantly.
Zim stayed there, frozen. Crumpled on the ground. Soaked. A metallic waft continuing to pound his antennae. His nemesis's scent of life. Surrounding him. Filling him to the core.
"Is… Is that blood?" Membrane tilted his head ever so slightly. "Do you need an ambulance?! Are you hurt?!"
He stared with his big, insect-like gaze. Throat constricting. A bright flash. A rumble of thunder.
That sound.. So haunting…
"Please, let me help you to a hospital-!" A squelch. A disgusting, wet squelch. A shot of red in the air.
Zim shot forward, teeth dangerously bared as he screeched, Pak legs jamming the scientist down into the bed sheets. Pierced through his chest. Pinning him. Blood in waves.
Tears flew as he violently stabbed, over and over.. over and over..! Screaming in Dib's father's face. That ignorant, foolish, inhuman.. human!
His breaths came fast and harsh as his extra limbs punished the man, the so-called father that his nemesis and sister were forced to deal with. Neglect. So much neglect. Neverending.
Zim pierced the flesh, chunks torn. Bones exposed. Intestines flailing. Heart… beating no further.
He swallowed as he panted above his enemy's fallen kin, mentally stepping back. The once pristine sheets were now coated to the core in red. Body beneath him mutilated beyond all recognition.
His chest rose and fell, slowly calming his hysteria with the long exhales. Taking in what he had done.. and regretting not an inch of it.
He leaned in close to the body.. the absolute gore, and clenched his zipper teeth. "You were never a father," he hissed.
And just like that, the Membrane household was no more. A fallen family. Self-righteous murder. Deserved bloodshed.. for a hopeless suicide.
He shifted himself back, away from the pool of mess. Of repulsive scent. He moved from the bed, keeping his serene gaze on the devastated corpse. He stepped back, each click of his boots softened by a squish of red. Tying his eyes to the sight. As if one look away and the deceased scientist would sit back up and chase after him.
He studied as he slowly backed out of the blaring white bedroom. A place once spotless, now ravaged with ruby. As soon as he reached the doors, they slid open. Automatic from the inside. Locked with security on the outside.
He stared up at the shut doors. No one will be getting in. Not until the house was blown away. The body would rot and rot until the metal box of a room would be penetrated by something strong enough. By then, it would be too late.
Zim turned from the impenetrable doors. Blood trailing from his boots as he stepped. The scientist would decompose in that filthy, secured room.
He mindlessly ascended the stairwell to the second floor, that one stair creaking towards the top. He passed by Gaz's room. STAY OUT, the sign on her door screamed. A typical saying on teens' doors, he has come to notice. A sign that would be ignored, come the time that the police get here. Barging in. Discovering her bloody body under the covers. Posters covered in gore. Expression frozen forever in fear.
His legs took him back to the dark, blue cavern. The soaked room. Posters and magazines flown about. Glass shards.
The storm had dispersed in the middle of Zim's breakdown. Sometime between the dark hours, and the morning sun rising on the horizon. His skin was singed terribly. Limbs exhausted. Mind numbed. But that didn't matter.
He wanted the body. He wanted his nemesis, no matter what state he was in. Brain blown out. Eyes cold. Glasses cracked. Body nothing but a porcelain doll. He will not stand for a moment more of the child's torture.
The Irken wrapped the child in his sheets. The stained, bloody sheets. He would take care of him like no one else had. Treat him with respect, keep him company, drown him with admiration..
He watched the lifeless eyes beneath him as he slowly folded the blanket over them, effectively covering the corpse in a comfortable cocoon. Glass sprinkled down as he lifted the body. Much lighter than he remembered. All of that escaped blood relieved much of the weight for his quivering arms.
He escaped the child's prison via broken window, careful to not bring any further damage to the wrapped body. Spiderlegs carrying them down the side of the house. Crawling. Fleeing. Never looking back.
"Why is Master not coming up? Isn't he going to yell at me?"
"He doesn't care."
"Ooo.. why?"
"How should I know?"
Gir blinked, sitting there at the table with mysterious, pink liquid coating the room. It dripped from his chin, plopping on the pig plush below. "Cuz you're a smarty, and I can't see you! Ehehe!" the robot giggled hysterically, starting to whack his head down on the plush repeatedly.
The computer sighed.
He shook. That's what he did, day in and day out. No sustenance. No charging. No Sun. He stayed deep inside his base, cradling a corpse to his chest. Someone who mattered very dearly to him, now just… gone. Unresponsive. Unmoving.
Sometimes tears would slip every now and then. Even when he thought that he had cried away all of his body's moisture, there always seemed to be some left. Biting at his lids. Tickling his skin. Dripping from his jaw onto the beloved body below.
He was dead. The Irken had tested it. Over and over. Electric shock, poking, stabbing, even insults to attempt to get a rise out of the child. As if he would magically glare at him and hiss an insult back. Banter, like they always had. Back and forth. Teasing. Fighting. Stalking. Taking each other's company for granted…
His drained orbs did not once leave the boy's face. Not even for a second. Somehow, in some way, Dib would get back up. He always did. The child always retaliated, no matter how hopeless things seemed. It was what he always admired in the human.. His determination. Even when the whole world was against him, he fought. He fought for these people that turned on him. Bullied him. Pushed him into this corner of desperation.
They forced him to pull that trigger. Their words. Their taunts. Their rejection.
Zim ran his gloved fingers through the soft, raven locks, now ravaged with a deep, sticky red at the back. His signature scythe hair drooped. Cracked glasses slipped down his bridge.
The Irken slowly pushed them back up against that cold, amber gaze, gentle claws stroking his fair skin. The sickly pale skin. Soft, fleshy flesh..
He peered into that blank gaze. Even post death, the child's eyes were breathtaking. So golden.. So alien.. So full of curiosity…
He brushed their lips slowly. Warm meeting ice. His antennae quivered. The Irken parted his lips further, increasing the friction with the deceased mouth of his nemesis. Taking him in. Holding him close as they touched in a way they had never explored before. Something he craved. Something he never got the chance to do.
He turned his head to deepen the contact, the human's dried blood on his tongue. It was overwhelming, the scent of a decomposing corpse. The blood. The exposed brain.
He pulled away slightly, exhaling against the slackened lips. Lips that slowly shut..! "Dib! Dib, can you hear me?!" the alien cried, holding the body tighter. "I saw you move! You cannot fool Zim!" he watched, eyes wide as he searched for any further signs. "Dib.." He shook the body once. It flailed.. by his hand alone. A horrible squish.
Zim glanced down to the mutilated brain lying on his floor beneath them. A wretched scent of blood. He stared down at it, his mouth starting to twitch. Shake. Convulse.
A scream burst from his flaming throat, a horrid thing that reverberated off of the base walls. Pain. Unbearable pain.
Tears. Crushing the body in his arms. The Irken screeched until he could screech no further, body hiccuping loudly through the hysteria. Eyes burning. Throat gasping for air. Chest on fire. He gagged on the emotions that invaded him, struggling to calm through the attack. It was just.. not possible..! He couldn't be gone…! He was tricking him! This was a trick!
He clenched his zipper teeth as his shaking, wet gaze fell back upon the still child beneath him. The body had not moved an inch. No attempts to tear away from him. No roll of his eyes. Just… nothing.
Zim watched for moments more before his head dropped. Face against the human's chest. Something once warm, now ice to the touch. No movement as the Irken sobbed into the bloodied shirt. It could not be argued. He could not delude himself any further.
His nemesis was undeniably, irretrievably... dead. No more. He had left him behind…
But why? Did he do something wrong? Was their rivalry not good enough? ...Was he not good enough?
So many questions. So little resources… His childhood nemesis, the only one who had ever chased him and had his back at the same time… was dead and gone. Deceased. And no matter what he did, no matter how hard he cried and screamed and denied… Dib was not coming back.
He took a breath. A shuddery breath. His chest quivered as he kneeled over the body, carefully lifting it with him as he stood on shaky limbs. Exhausted limbs… But he would not rest.
Step by step, he carried his rival towards the tubes. Brain left behind. The stench of dried blood intoxicating. But that did not matter.
He heaved the body up into the preservation tube, a small grunt escaping him. He nearly stumbled over the controls as he managed the body into the pod, putting the corpse's safety before his. Being careful to not release him until he was able to set the child inside without a scratch.
He struggled with himself then, gloved claws latched. And not wanting to let go. Refusing to release. His crimson gaze shook before he ripped himself away, both physically and mentally. Just far enough where he could shut the tube, and hesitantly initiate the process.
His finger fell away from the button, throat squeezing. Squeedilyspooch fluttering. Eyes leaking. Always leaking…
He stared up at the body that rose from the liquid, the purple glow filling his broken orbs. Floating, as if it still had life left in it to reflect. To mock him.
He gazed upon his nemesis, exhaling slowly. Shutting his eyes. Squaring up his shoulders. Squeezing the remaining tears away. They will not help.
He swallowed as he felt the ghost of his nemesis's upon his, lids shutting tighter. He would cry no further, he told himself. No more weakness. He had to be strong for him. For them.
"I will not stop," he heard a voice break through. A very cracked, broken voice. His own? "Anyone who has ever wronged you.. I will make certain to go after each and every one of them.." His gloves squeaked as he clenched them. Hard. "Every last one…
"Until they're all dead," Dib's corpse grew a twisted grin.