It had been a nasty month, from start to finish.
He didn't know why they'd chosen him at first. Until that one word rang through the air and Daan realized he was going to die in jail unless he found a way out.
That one word. "Resisty".
The Resisty was the biggest and essentially only worthwhile resistance movement in the entire galaxy working against the monstrous and tyrannical Irken Empire. Those overgrown insectoid freaks had betrayed his planet, turning on them after Vort had designed countless machines for them. Their people had been shifted into prisons to work when they weren't being forced to work in the factories outside or more horrifying still, used as "test subjects" for new devices.
And because he'd been near that goggle-wearing idiot that fateful day, Daan Yel had been branded a member of the Resisty.
It wasn't like the idea of rebellion hadn't come to him. After all, his only relative, his father, had been forced to take him to the mountains where a few scattered pockets of Vortians hid in the wilds. Yet doing this had essentially killed his father Graiht, because they'd quickly begun to starve and Daan had been forced to steal from the cities, hiding in the alleyways and struggling day to day.
And whilst he'd been in an alleyway checking out a dumpster, he'd found a goggles-wearing Vortian hiding inside.
"What in the?" Daan mumbled, helping the goggled and grey-skinned Vortian out of the dumpster, cringing at the disgusting smell as he tilted his head in confusion, the Vortian rubbing the back of his neck. "What are you doing in there?"
"I suppose they're gone…guess I can tell you. I'm hiding from the Irkens, I'm-" The goggles-wearing alien gasped out, holding his hands over his mouth, heart pumping loudly beneath his blue-vested body as he took off running, Daan turning around, seeing several familiar green-skinned, black-antannaed beings all heavily-armored and pointing their weapons in his direction as Lard Nar rounded the corner.
"YOU! Where's he going?" The first Irken guard snapped, red eyes blazing as Daan inwardly flinched. Oh no, this was bad.
"I don't know, I was just scrounging for food and-"
"LIIIES!" The second one screamed out, pointing at him with an accusatory claw digit, clenching his other black glove tightly into a fist. "Arrest this Resisty member!" The orange-eyed guard snarled. "You'll be mopping prison floors tonight!"
Oh. If only he'd been doing that. No, they'd come up with something sicker. A new machine designed to slowly peel off flesh cell by cell for the most agony possible and he was going to be their test subject. In the first week, he lost his right foot. And by the end of the next…he had lost his right hand.
Soon they'd take the rest of both appendages. And so now Daan sat, alone, in a deep, dark red laboratory, a singular light flickering in his cell as he lay on a cold cot, arms wrapped around his legs as he shuddered. He felt a familiar twinge and cringed, reaching up to touch what had been his other horn. They'd not only taken off a hand and a foot, they'd forcibly torn off a chunk of his right horn and had beaten him across the face with it when he kept insisting he was innocent.
No, that wasn't entirely true.
"You ready to talk now?" The tall, female warden of the prison snarled, towering high above him in her cloaked body, long eyelashes fluttering as Daan laid on the floor, holding his swollen, reddened cheek with his remaining good hand before staring back up at her, the guards in the room sniggering at his misfortune, a few holding up some monies.
"Five monies says he talks!"
"No, no, five monies says he stays quiet."
So they were all betting, huh? Well if they were going to delight in his suffering, he could afford a little sadism himself. "…Barukh ata Adonai." He muttered. "I know the punishment should fit the crime. But…"
"What was that?" The Warden demanded to know before Daan suddenly shot up with his head, his horns slamming hard into her stomach region as she howled, clutching it and reeling back. She let out a screech, the other guards gasping as some blood flew out of her mouth and she staggered back.
"Pay up." One of the guards remarked to his friends with a smirk, holding his gloved hand up and grinning as the Warden's eyes blazed like tiny little coals.
"You disgusting little goaty-head! I think you broke something!"
"Good, now you know how I feel." Daan snapped.
THEN she beat his cheek so hard the blood sprayed over the walls.
Still, he had to get out. He glanced about, looking left and right at his cell in the laboratory wing. He needed to think up a plan.
"You'll think of something. You were always the smart one in our family. I knew you'd be going places I never could." He could faintly hear his father say, Daan struggling not to let the tears spring to his eyes as he wiped them away and bit into his lip. "Think. Use your head."
"I just wish you were here." Daan murmured as he bit harder into his lip and hung his head. "I remember the last time I saw you. Lying there on the bed and you could barely even feel my hand on you. It was like you weren't really sure I was there."
"You did everything you could for me." Graiht's voice insisted softly. "You even helped me out of bed when I had to do my business. You stayed up late when I couldn't sleep. You always made sure to give me some of your food even though you needed it more than I did./i"
"Father, please, I'm young, I could take it."
"I was 52 and couldn't barely lift my head at the end. You needed it more. So come, now. I had you eat lots of fish because it was brain food, Daan. Use that big brain of yours. THINK"
Yes. Yes, surely something in here could be useful to get him out. He peered out from the cell and through the doorway's single slot, looking out with his pale green eyes, narrowing intensely at a table in the distance. It was a kind of dissection table that he'd been stuck on as they tested the machine again and again, only now they'd moved a small tray of tools nearby along with the infernal device, a scalpel, an incisor, a needle-
Wait. A needle. A needle full of a liquid that he recognized. Before his planet had been invaded, Daan had been a lawyer and a damn good one at that. Had just passed the bar two years before it all went wrong and had been building up a steady stream of wins. Yet he'd also had some losses too and out of respect for each of his clients who'd been sentenced to death, he'd gone to their executions and seen the chemical they used. That very same chemical had a distinct pinkish hue to it with a faint white glittering glow. And now the chemical was in that needle.
He had an idea. Normally he wouldn't have done something like this. Normally.
But after all she did to him she deserved it.
And so, that night, it was time for more torture. Or as they called it, "Ms. Warden's Hobby". After he'd given her internal bleeding from a near-busted squeegly-spooch, she was determined to make him suffer. It was bad enough she'd stripped him of his clothes and he was just stuck with a loincloth. Oh, no! Now he was going to get more taken off of him.
She nonchalantly twirled the scalpel in her gloved hand, whistling cheerily as she looked over some X-Rays of various Vortians on the wall, Daan bracing himself. He was strapped in across the chest and his legs to the table, but he'd been building up his strength and preparing for just such an occasion for the entire time he'd been in prison, and was finally ready. He knew where they kept the ships that took new prisoners into the prison. If he could get down to the docking bay and then get a ship, he'd be fine. The hard part would be getting out of the laboratory wing.
It all depended on precision and caution, his eyes narrowed intensely at the Warden, mentally picturing the motion he needed to make when the time was right. She cheerily giggled, turning around and holding up the scalpel.
"Now, then. I know I've done this before. But I can't wait to see what little Vortian boys are made of."
"I am 16." He remarked. "If you're going to make sinister comments, at least have them be accurate."
She gave him a dark look, raising a nonexistent eyebrow up. "You are a glutton for punishment, aren't you number 24601?"
"My name is Daan Yel."
"I'll take that as a "yes"." She intoned as she held the scalpel up.
"Ignoring me won't make me shut up." He remarked. That seemed to set her off as she grabbed his throat and leaned in, holding the scalpel to his neck.
"Oh, but I'm sure this will! I'm going to bleed you by inches for what you did to me." She whispered, her voice like the dying wheeze of an animal being squeezed to death. "You humiliated me in front of my men. Not a day goes by when I don't feel the sharp jabbing pain shooting through me when I lay down to take a nap in my room. I can feel where you headbutted me every time I rest!"
She was close enough, and so was the table with the tools. He slammed his fist into it, the thing flipping up, the tools scattering through the air, Daan seeing the needle flying down, down towards him and he smacked it at just the right place, the needle flying into the Warden's surprised, turned forehead as she shrieked, reeling back, some of the chemical going in as he grabbed hold of the scalpel as it flew from her hand. He sliced his restraints open and the Vortian grinned in triumph, bounding up from the table and busting the doors down, knocking the two guards on the other side to the floor.
Daan bolted down the hallway, barreling for the docking bay and the shipyard, a surprised pilot trying to bring some cargo into a little personal mail shuttle finding a deranged-looking, half-crippled Vortian barreling at him with surprising speed. The Irken's little brown eyes bugged out of his head as he leapt to the side to avoid getting squished by the charging rhino of a Vortian, the blur of reddish skin bolting onto the shuttle as the alien grinned in triumph, gripping the ship controls. With a few flicks of some switches and a pull of a lever, he was now piloting the ship through the stars, finally thankful something had gone right.
Or at least it had been until his warp drive had shorted out.
"By Moishe's saggy balls, what is even the-?!" Daan began to mutter, looking over the control console in confusion before turning to the right, finally taking notice of the little yellow note he'd overlooked, his face sagging as he read it over.
"Remember: Elite Guard Jerry promised to give you that Warp Coupling. Be sure to get him that Milkshake machine and it'll finally work right."
"…well, gosh." Daan sighed, the back region of the ship burning into flames as his ship halted, spazzing out and spiraling down, down towards the planet below as he gripped the seat as best he could and screamed his head off. He hollered in sheer fear, rushing towards the lake below, towards a solid blue wall of death at a hundred miles an hour!
Until he remembered. Cockpits like this could eject! He glanced around the console, his good hand flickering across the various little signs until he found the button he needed. With a push of the "Eject" button he went soaring up into the sky along with the chair, turning around as-
The parachute failed to deploy and he just plummeted towards the trees.
THA-THRACKA-THRAK-THRAKA-THRAK!
…
…
…
… "God does not want me dead. He does not want me happy, but he clearly does not want me dead." Daan muttered, hopping alongside the natural forest pathway using a stick to keep balance, his head still quite woozy from the crash. He hobbled along the path, the wind blowing the deep green branches to and fro as night began to fall, the stars slowly peeking out from the bluish/black quilt that was the evening sky. Luckily there was a lot of soft grass in this forest, even the pathway was just a different type of grass. It gave Daan some comfort as he made his way towards the sound of water, hoping to quench his thirst.
"You keep your wits about you. You don't know if the civilization here is friendly." His father Graiht insisted softly, his form leaning against a nearby tree, wagging a finger in the air as Daan sucked in a deep breath and sighed a bit.
"Sure thing, father." Daan remarked. "But once I get well enough, I'm returning to the jail."
"What? Why?"
Daan's eyes narrowed darkly as he stared up at the starry skies above, gripping the stick so hard he almost broke it, his father sighing deeply.
"Son, you cannot seriously be thinking about-"
Daan held up what had been his arm, silencing his father. "She took my hand. She took my foot. She deserves to suffer for what she did. I'll take from her what she took from me. Then she can think long and hard about what she did." He whispered out.
Ohhh, how he had dreamed about it in prison after she'd done each deed. How he yearned to make her suffer for what she did. To saw through her arm, cutting off her arm, seeing her eyes widen in sheer terror, silently begging for mercy, knowing she'd receive none for what she did to him. For what her race did to his. And then her foot. Yes. The foot. The dreams had begun to become erotic, the splatter of her blood slowly spreading across the floor as he calmly began to remove her foot, her screams being stifled as he forcibly shoved her own hand in her mouth and tied it down so she couldn't spit it out, to make her hurt-
He stopped, biting into his lip.
I shouldn't think that way. It's not the right thing. I just want to get even. I ought to be better than her.
He grit his teeth, shaking his head back and forth. It was just so tempting to make that choice. A horrific, thudding thought that kept pounding through his skull every minute he was away from the jail. To get even. To make her suffer for what she did…he just so badly wanted to punish her. Was it truly so wrong given EVERYTHING she'd done to-
Then as he got closer and closer towards a forest creek off in the distance, he saw something odd, blinking his eyes in confusion. No. No, it couldn't be. He didn't recognize any of the stars in the sky and the landscape was far different from-it couldn't be an-
But it was. As he climbed atop the fallen tree to get a better look, his body quivered in horror as his eyes widened, mouth slowly falling open as the Irken sitting on the grassy overlook by the creek turned to stare at him. It's balled antennae bounced up and down in the air as it blinked, a necklace with a green jewel of an orb resting on its chest, over a white robed form with bare hands and feet. The Irken slowly blinked at him, Daan feeling the words rise from his mouth as a cold chill filled the air.
"Oh, God, no." He mumbled, finally unable to take any more as he flopped to the ground, letting unconsciousness dig its claws deep into him.
The Irken sighed. This was going to be somewhat tricky.
THE NEXT DAY...
Daan was aware of a soft, gentle warmth that had enveloped him and he moaned, rubbing his sore head, cringing as he felt his body slightly wracked with spasms of pain. As he slowly opened his eyes, he slowly glanced around, finding himself now in a pale, silvery-white painted room with finely-carved wood furniture from tables to chairs. Several bookcases towered high, almost up to the ceiling with sliding ladders and a few desks loaded down with enormous tomes were situated around each wall. And the Vortian himself was lying down with a big green and red blanket over his body on a plushy white couch, the Irken he'd seen before sitting in an enormous red rocking chair, looking over a book in his clawed hands as his antennae slightly twitched and he glanced up to look Daan over.
"You're awake. It's very nice to meet you. I'm Darithil, but you may refer to me as Darth. Who might you be?" The Irken remarked, his voice soft, yet somehow unsettling and dark, with a faint ethereal hint.
Daan inwardly cringed. He knew what kind of person this Irken was. Now that he saw the robes and the necklace, he could make the connections. This was a "Consular". A psychic interrogator, they were Irk's special secret. Very rarely called off-planet since their powers were supposedly more potent when on the planet and working together, they could break into the minds of the strongest-willed individuals.
Yet he couldn't be on Irk. The grass and the forest hadn't been anything like Irk, and the stars in the sky hadn't had any of Irk's constellations, so-
"No doubt you'd like to know where you are. I don't even need to read your mind to tell that." The consular said, putting a hand on his chest as he put the book down on a nearby table by his chair, Daan staring at his milky-white eyes and the faintly silver pupils-wait. Wait a minute. His eyes. He was…this Irken was blind! That meant he was "defective". A defective Consular?
"Why would they allow for a defective interrogator?" Daan wanted to know.
"They don't know I'm defective. The "Superior Irken Empire" isn't very smart, nor are they anywhere close by. You're on Planet Earth. Lightyears from Irk and Vort. And safe." Darth added with a small smile. "With the aid of a disguise I've been able to hide my existence here since the people here aren't too smart either."
Daan nervously bit his lip. Part of him wanted to believe this Irken was telling the truth. That he'd finally caught a break. Yet the way the Irken talked to him, there was just…something off. Something not quite right. And he wasn't sure why.
"What do you want from me, exactly?" Daan wished to know. "I lost my hand, my horn and my foot to Irken torturers on my home planet. Do you think you're somehow making up for what your race did to mine through individual guilt?"
Darth noticeably flinched, Daan's eyes widening. "Not…exactly, I…that is…" Darth murmured. "I saw someone who needed help. Somebody who is…handicapped much the same way I was, and, well, the humans have a saying. "Birds of a feather flock together"."
Daan folded his arms over his chest, raising a nonexistent eyebrow up in the air. Good thing the Irken couldn't see his face. "Alright. I'll bite. You just want to help? Can you grow my hand back?! My horn!?"
"You're upset. I understand." Darth sighed. "I have food in the kitchen if you hunger. I will give you some time to adjust." He added as he rose up and made for the hallway, leaving the Vortian alone as the flames in the fireplace crackled and hissed. He pulled the blanket up to more fully wrap around himself before going towards the window and peeking out.
He could see snow was beginning to fall, descending down from the clouds above as people hung odd decorations on the trees outside and pretty little lights on the lampposts in the streets. One in particular was whistling quite cheerily as he stopped in front of the house and knocked on the door, the Irken's voice ringing out. "Coming, coming!"
Daan's eyes narrowed as a now-disguised-as-one-of-these-aliens Darth emerged to talk to the glasses-wearing, pinkish/white-skinned young alien who had a scarf wrapped around his black-jacketed form. "Dib, however may I help you?"
"Listen Mr. Thildari, I know I've got an appointment with you tomorrow, but I wanted to ask about that "psych evaluation" you said the school was making you give me."
"I assure you, I'm not putting down that you're crazy, Dib. Your father Professor Membrane needn't worry."
"Oh. Thanks. Merry Christmas!" The child named Dib cheerily remarked, shaking the disguised Irken's hand and heading off across the street to what was apparently his house as Darth closed the door and walked inside to the living room Daan was in.
"I work as a guidance counselor at the local school. Dibbun Membrane happens to be dealing with some issues I can provide assistance with and I've built up a rapport with him. Especially since he's contending with an idiotic Irken living down the street from him who thinks he's a real Invader." Darth added with a snort, his glasses-wearing disguise fading to reveal his real form as he put away the small "pouch" image inducer he'd used. "Zim's an idiot with no acknowledgement of his shortcomings. You don't need to worry."
"Zim? THE Zim? Mister "Most Moronic Invader in the World" Zim?" Daan asked, speaking slowly and deliberately. "I kept hearing about him from the other Irken guards. He's always speaking to the Tallests and calling up Prisoner 777, a Vortian scientist named Ko. And he's always getting presents from 777, evidently, who smuggles him things. But Zim's never returned the favor, from what I can gleam."
"Zim's quite selfish." Darth admitted. "And you picked up on quite a lot in prison!" He complimented as Daan grit his teeth.
"I had to if I was going to escape. Look, I don't exactly feel secure knowing an unstable Irken is just down the street. It bothers me enough to have to live under the same house as you. I don't trust Irkens." He insisted fervently.
"But you don't have a choice." Darth reasoned. "Look. I promise, no harm will come to you. Certainly not around this time of year. It's Christmas, a time to be compassionate and generous."
"…Christmas?" Daan mumbled quietly, confusingly. "…tell me more."
ONE WEEK LATER…
Daan had been living off of "chicken soup", hot chocolate and other holiday treats such as candy canes, ham and popcorn balls for a week so far, and he'd been slowly regaining his strength. Yet he was still disturbed by Darth. It was unnatural for an Irken to swallow down such huge chunks of meat the way he did. Especially since he could barely get the ham down himself. Everything about the blind irken seemed so gentle and compassionate, yet so unnatural and freakish at the same time. Even the balled antennae. Why in the Hell did a male Irken have femine antennae like-
"I was a failed woman." Darth remarked, Daan giving him a glare as he looked up from the pizelli he was trying to sprinkle powdered sugar onto. "You're wondering about the antennas I have. My "mother" made me in a smeet factory but instead of making a female, she made a male with some feminine traits." Darth tossed down the piece of ham into his mouth, chewing vigorously. "And my swift adaptation to exotic foods is a very useful feminine trait indeed."
"…I don't much like Irken women. One of them tortured me for hours on end and was laughing all the way, ha-ha-ha." Daan sang out dryly. "I want to get back at her for what she did to me." He mumbled, putting his fork down and staring down at the plate before him.
"I had a feeling you might." Darth intoned, giving a calm nod. "Listen. It will be Christmas soon. And this means people will give presents."
Darth put down two cards onto the table, Daan looking at the first, then the second. One had a set of keys…the other an "Adhesive medical strip".
"A choice." He told him. "I could heal your wounds. I have ways and I have friends who would be of use to you. Or I could take you to her. Use my position to get into the prison. Bring you to her and allow you to do to her what she did to you."
Daan bit his lip, hand passing over the cards.
It was so tempting. Just…so tempting.
"I need to think about this." He murmured, sitting up in his chair, deciding to go for a walk. It would mean putting on his image inducer, but he didn't care. He needed to think.
So it wasn't long before he was walking down the sidewalk, disguised as a hobo missing an arm and a leg, wrapped in a thick jacket. The snowflakes softly drifted by his head in little dancing sweeps, a slightly biting wind blowing as he "hmphed". It wasn't as cold as the forest could get, so he wasn't that bothered. Truth be told, the soft and thick falling of the snow around him made him feel introspective and thoughtful, and he sat down on a park bench, resting himself and "hmming" aloud.
What was he to do? He so badly wanted to make the Warden suffer. So badly wanted to punish her for what she did, yet to have his hand and his leg and horn back…to be able to pick something up with his right hand once again, to be able to put his foot back down, to be able to feel his horn once again-
"You alright, sir? How'd that happen?" A voice rang out.
Daan turned, seeing the human named Dib was staring at him. Dib seemed to visit Mr. Thildari's house about once a day. He clearly put great trust in the disguised Irken which made Daan feel slightly less worried about the blind consular, yet still, there was that sense of unease that lingered all the same.
"I was tortured." Daan admitted quietly. "I had my limbs taken from me in a war that monstrous backstabbers waged against my kind. We trusted them. Built for them. Traded with them. And they turned on us." He growled out, gritting his teeth, a sense of furious anger rising in his tone. "I lost my father, too. And I want to take the Warden that took my hand and my foot and crush. HER." He snarled out, Dib's amber/brown eyes getting wider in surprise before genuine pity flashed across his face, Daan's hatred and rage suddenly dissipating as Dib took off his thick winter jacket, giving it to Daan.
"I'm so sorry, sir." Dib said quietly.
Daan's mouth hung open slightly, stunned by this display of kindness as he struggled to find the words to say. "I…you don't have to, I mean…I…" He murmured. "Thank you." He mumbled, putting the extra coat on. "It's nice to see such decency from others."
"Well, its Christmas." Dib remarked with a shrug. "And I kinda know how it feels when everything seems to be working against you." He admitted, sitting down on the bench as he sighed. "I've got this…guy. This jerk. Total, total jerk. He's always trying to hurt me and everyone else and I'm always trying to stop him. I just want people to notice that, but…I'm all alone in it. I've got no friends and my sister's never up to help me, and my dad is just not there."
Daan nodded, giving Dib a sympathetic look. "Tell me about it. Seriously! Tell me about it."
"This jerk, Zim? Last Christmas he tricked a mob into beating me up. And this was after I saved his life from something he invented and lost control of." Dib mumbled. "He's such an ungrateful jerk. I wish I could get even with him, but…" He cringed. "What I really wish is that people would just help me. Would just recognize that I need help. I feel like I'm completely alone even when I'm in the middle of a huge crowd."
"What of your mother?" Daan asked, Dib instantly jolting slightly in his seat as Daan realized Dib had had a violent internal emotional reaction he was trying not to let be revealed. "Oh. Was it…bad?"
"There wasn't anything left of her after the accident but a brain in jar my Dad keeps as-I…I just…" Dib held his head in his hands, biting into his lip. "I feel like if she was here, she could tell me what to do and make me understand what it is I'm doing wrong. I need her here. She'd understand. She would support me. I just want some help." He moaned. "I need somebody to talk to. And Mr. Thildari is nice, but he's got his own life to live and I can't talk to him at school unless I make an appointment."
Daan was quiet for what seemed to be a long time. Then…
"Look, I don't really got my own life. Where do you go to school?" Daan asked, Dib's head picking up as his eyes widening a bit. "We could, perhaps…talk more? When you have a free period?"
Dib smiled as Darth inwardly grinned, watching the scene from the Mindscape, his mind inhabiting the body of a Chihuahua that was sitting by a nearby tree, taking it all in. He'd been hoping Daan would make this kind of decision. And he had a feeling he knew what Daan was going to say when he got back to the house.
"Neither." Daan said, putting the cards on a nearby table, shaking his head back and forth at Darth as the blind Irken read in a chair by the fireplace. "My answer to your offer is neither. I'll make a new path and move forward. There's others who have great struggles of their own in this city. And actually trying to help them made me feel…good. Really good." Daan admitted with a small smile. "So sorry. I'm not going "A" or "B". I'm doing "Other"."
Darth just smiled, Daan heading for his room as the blind Irken turned the pages of his copy of "To Kill A Mockingbird".
"You chose…wisely."