Stars of the Doomsayers An 'Invader Zim' story of Au-ish proportions! Rated T for occasional language and possible future gay-ness.
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They stood quietly, the pair of siblings, looking at each other with faces quite blank, being quite silent, until the one with hard eyes allowed her expression to soften, and she smiled softly to her brother.
"So you're really leaving?" The boy nodded, and she let out a short breath of laughter. "It's about time," she told him. "You've only been wanting to do this since you were born." They looked quietly at each other for a moment more, and her eyes hardened back to their customary state. She spoke to him once more, with a coldness in her voice that was not directed at him (as it might otherwise have been), but toward the world outside of the protective bubble that seemed to always have surrounded her brother: "You never did belong here anyway."
And with that, she turned from him and walked away, whispering ghostly last words to the brother she suspected she'd never again see-- "Goodbye, Dib."
The boy blinked at his sister's retreating form and smiled just slightly. "Goodbye, Gaz," he quietly replied. Then he took a breath of preparation, picked his luggage from the ground beside him, and set off toward the terminal and the start of what he hoped would be a better life than his last.
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The warmth of the frying vats of grease washed over him, and he sighed sleepily, happily allowing the fumes to diffuse through his skin and fill his brain with the scent of curly fries. Forgetting where he was, he yawned, stretched, then laid his head back down on rubber-gloved arms, falling back into his peaceful nap. He was quite content with the semi-silence, broken only by the popping of the grease, until a loud voice shouted into his antenna-- "ZIM!"
The little alien's head shot up violently, and he turned 'round to see his boss, a look of horror spilling over his face at having been caught sleeping on the job. However, the frylord looked no more angry than usual, which was still pretty intimidating, but not enough to cause any true harm to the frightened one. Instead of extra anger, he seemed to harbor extra agitation as he poked Zim's shoulder and tapped his foot.
"The Tallest put in a late-night order for curly fries!" the boss explained in a loud and commanding voice. "They requested you specifically." He stared for a minute at Zim, who stared back in a somewhat dazed manner. "So GET TO WORK!" With no more than a blink, he disappeared once again through the curtains of the greasy fry house, muttering about mentally retarded subordinates and the ridiculous requests of childish leaders.
Finally awake, Zim shrugged and got to work on a fresh batch of fries, taking extra care to perfect them for his leaders. He was very familiar with the wrath the Tallest were capable of unleashing if presented with substandard snacks, and wished with great intensity to avoid that rage.
Within minutes, several buckets of fries were ready to go. He carefully carried them to the company voot-cruiser and piled them in the back, hopping in front and closing the shield. After adjusting the auto-pilot route, he leaned back, crossed his feet upon the steering wheel, and settled in for a seven minute and thirty-six second nap.
Seven minutes and thirty-five seconds later, the cruiser reached its destination, waking its passenger with a loud beep of notification. Zim made a mental note to readjust the cruiser's timing as he grabbed the dripping buckets from behind him and boarded the teleporter to the Tallests' quarters.
Upon arriving, he heard the distinct voices of his leaders crying out for "fries, fries, fries!" and took that as his sign to come in.
Zim was immediately divested of his fried goods. Left standing empty-handed in the doorway, he had nothing better to do than watch his Tallest in rapt attention as they devoured every last bit of curly-fry. It took only a moment for every crumb to have disappeared, and less than another for the grease to have been licked from the Tallests' fingers.
And then it was as if the curly fries had never been, the only proof of their existence being the satisfied smiles upon the faces of the fries' devourers. Zim also smiled with the knowledge that his leaders found the snacks to their liking and were therefore unlikely to punish him. But his smile was replaced by a look of confusion and disbelief when he was next spoken to.
"Thanks for the fries, Zim," the tall red one said, "but we have another matter to discuss with you." He paused to let the statement sink in. "We need you to return your SIR unit."
"What?!" Zim yelled. "You can't take away an invader's SIR unit! (Besides, it's actually a GIR.)"
The purple Tallest stepped up next to his partner. "Yes we can!" he replied with a smile. "And you're not an invader anymore, remember?"
"You're retired now," Red added, "and a retired invader has no use for a SIR."
"Yes, but it's actually a GIR," Zim remarked. "And I never asked to retire! Indeed, I still wish with all my being to be an invader!" He stressed the occupation in a very characteristic manner. "My Tallest! I ask of you to un-retire me! Let me once again show the Irken Empire the mighty power that resides within Zim!" He looked up to his leaders in a pitiful plea.
The Tallest grimaced and looked sidelong at each other. "Well…," Red began, considering possibly maybe perhaps attempting to find some invaderly job for the little Irken. Truth be told, he and Purple had something of a soft spot for the little fuck-up, even though Zim was an undeniable failure. After the near-destruction of their home planet during Impending Doom 1, most of the Irken race began to shun Zim, but during his time as the Tallest's personal curly-fry maker they had started to notice that he had an irresistible idiotic charm. It was this idiotic charm (and likely the fact that he was just so small and adorable) that kept him alive whenever anyone threatened to kill him absolutely dead.
So Tallest Red leaned over to whisper into his partner's antenna about the idea that he thought might possibly maybe perhaps work. After a moment of consideration, Purple nodded his head. They cleared their throats, straightened their backs and looked Zim in the eyes.
"Alright, Zim, we have decided to give you another chance, because we are such kind and benevolent leaders."
Zim's antennae perked as he grinned excitedly up at them, exuding that idiotic charm his Tallest were so weak to. "Yes, my Tallest? What kind of mission do you have in mind for the amazing Zim?"
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Lights flashed past at dizzying speeds, but still Dib refused to take his eyes off the scenery for a moment. He'd been waiting his whole life to see the world outside of… well, the world. Now that Earth was far behind him, he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to see the sights, even if the speed at which he was seeing them was making him nauseous.
But soon the option was removed from him, as blinds slid up over the windows of the space shuttle.
"Approaching hyper-speed," an invisible voice announced over an intercom. "Estimated time until arrival is .000973 light-years."
Instinctively, Dib must have gasped at the intimidating number, because a man seated across from him turned his way and laughed good-naturedly. "Don't worry," he told Dib, who gasped yet again at being unexpectedly spoken to. "It only translates to about 2-and-a-half hours."
It took Dib a few moments to realize the man was talking about the announcement. The corners of his mouth twitched into a relieved smile. He glanced back at the shuttered window and began to fidget with the charm dangling from his wrist.
"This your first time on a shuttle?" the man asked.
Turning back, Dib regarded the question-asker for a moment. He seemed fully human, as did every other passenger, and appeared to be of late-middle age, gray peppering his light brown hair. Though the man was dressed in a business suit, he looked fully at-ease in it, and wore a friendly smile that just didn't match the crispness of his outfit. "Er, yeah," Dib responded, deciding he could trust this man with at least a few words.
"It shows," the man said, nodding. "But don't be so nervous. The galaxy is a wonderful place." Dib nodded, hoping the man was right. "There are plenty of great places to go and people to meet. I'm sure you'll have a blast." He said the last part like one would tell a deaf person they'd enjoy a rock concert, but his voice held just enough conviction, and that was obviously the important part. "I'm Lhindt Ceszna, by the way." He stuck out his hand.
Dib looked doubtfully down at Lhindt's large hand, then back up to his smiling face. Almost hesitantly, he took the hand and shook it gently, his charm jingling quietly. "Dib Membrane. Pleased to meet you," he added politely.
They sat back in their seats and began to chat casually. As the shuttle sped on, Dib began to feel more reassured that his daring leap into space was a leap in the right direction.
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AN: What is Zim's special mission?! Where's Dib going?! Who the hell is this Ceszna guy anyway?! (We all know nobody likes OCs!) All this and more (maybe), next time on Stars of the Doomsayers!
Seriously, though. Where's this story going? Guess we'll all have to wait and find out! )