In memory of 9/11
Some light candles, I write.
If you get offended, please, read something else.
DISCLAMIER: I own nothing.
"I have something to tell you Zim."
The room got colder, just like those movies I've seen where the ghosts comes in to hunt the hero. But it's all in my mind, I know.
Zim glares at me. He has every right to be mad; I broke into his base for the umpteenth time. But today, it will be the last time.
"Why are you here, I wasn't even doing anything!" Zim snapped. Lately, I have been pestering him a lot more often. I think I am getting on his nerves… well, more so then I should.
"Zim, my father got a job in New York. There is a bigger lab, paycheck, everything." I said. I waited for a response.
Zim shifted his weight, not seeming to understand. "So, you came here to brag. Pathetic, get out."
"Zim, I'm moving. I am getting on a plane in the early morning, and I don't think I'm coming back."
Zim blinked. He got it; I could see it in his eyes.
He wasn't saying anything, so I kept talking. "I tried telling you sooner, but you were always up to something. But that's not an excuse really; a note would have done it"
I paused. Zim still stared at me; there was a slight edge to his glare. He had a nasty temper, so I took a step back.
He waved his arm at me dramatically. "Is that it? You disturbed me for this?" He sounded offended, as if it was ludicrous of me to even think he would care. "You know I am far too busy then to be dealing with an inferior being such as yourself!"
"Inferior?! You are such a stupid… thing!" I spat the last word out with disgust. I couldn't even think of a proper insult. "You didn't think that when you were half traumatized by That Call!"
Zim winced. His leaders told him the truth a year ago. Since then, he was trying his very best to get back on their good side. When he first found out, he was too depressed to even walk out his base, or his labs for that matter. I wanted to expose him, but then, it wouldn't really be fair. I liked a challenge. So instead, I encouraged him. What are best enemies for?
Zim pointed at me dangerously. "I am beyond that stink bag! Get out, and never come back!"
I grunted. He was as selfish as ever. I knew it was a waste of time coming down here.
"Fine," I said. "You win, I lose. Happy?"
"Very." That was the last thing he said to me. He turned his back on me. And I did the same to him. I needed to finish my last minute packing anyhow.
0o0o0 Zim's POV 0o0o0
"Stupid idiotic ideas… Ugly stink bag of smell… Miss him? HA! The mighty Zim needs no one!" Zim ranted to himself.
And yet, he couldn't stop talking about it. Some would call it being defensive, or denial. Others say it is just insanity and obsession.
At any rate, Zim was just about finished with his invention. He wiped his brow, highly proud of himself. He had slaved hours over this program, and was finally ready to be shown to the Tallest.
Just then, little Gir ran into the base. "Master! The TV! Look! LOOK!" He screamed.
Zim tried to wave Gir off. "Go away! I need to contact my leaders!" He snapped.
But the little robot wouldn't leave. "I don't understand!" He screeched. "The buildings went boom! And you didn't do it!"
That got his attention. "What…?" Zim turned the computer screen on, and went to the local news. He figured it was the weenie factory or something related to that. The news lady seemed upset, and blurred pictures were on the screen.
Gir stomped his feet. "Nnononono! The other show! The other one!"
Zim blinked. So it was national news? Impressive, yet intimidating. He took a brief look at the time. He was working longer hours then expected; it was almost noon.
He changed the channel. There were the large buildings he saw on T-Shirts and coffee mugs. The reporter man called them the World Trade Center. It might have been important to the economy of the country.
Zim snapped his fingers. "Irk, why didn't I think of this? Oh well, this should be a nice welcoming gift to the Dib." He crackled crudely.
Another plane smashed into the second building. Zim stopped gloating. Planes? That didn't make sense. Why weren't there bombs? Why planes? It didn't make sense, were the pilots high?
The reporter spoke of hijackers. Zim didn't understand half the things that came out of his mouth. He never kept with current events. All that he could focus on were the planes.
"COMPUTER!" He screeched. "Remember that tracker I placed in Dib a few years ago? Trace it!"
But as soon as he uttered those words, one of the towers fell. This surprised him so much, he knocked over his chair. "No! That isn't right, that isn't right at all!" Irkens attack the government, and enslave the civilians. That way, it was organized, simple, and with little causalities.
But this attack was messy, killing humans who might have no idea what was going on. Or maybe they did, and paid no heed. He didn't know, and for now, didn't care.
The computer spoke, with a slight hesitation. "I pinpointed the exact location. He is on the second that crashed."
The second building fell, sending a thousand needles though his heart. "No, you are lying! Trace it again!"
"Sir, you know my calculations are exact." The computer said gravely.
Smoke rose to the air. There was footage of the building falling at a different angle. Zim changed the channel, hoping it was just a movie, and Gir was mistake. But the reports were everywhere. Ground footage of firemen covered with ash, frantic people, running. It was happening. It was still happening.
Zim shook his head in disbelief. Dib was his enemy, and someone who didn't even know him killed him off in a casualty. For what? Nothing could be worth this, and even if there was…
Was this what Dib was protecting? Was this the world he wanted to protect?
This was the way the world paid him back. He was no longer "Dib", but a now a single digit in the raising death tolls. A single drop in the ocean of tears. A simple empty grave; for the body would be burned to ash by now.
Zim was unable to take in the information, unable to understand. It was too much.