.
-HuNt-
.
.
.
Tell me where to go
There is little I know
Towards the stars? Across the moon?
Come to me. Come save me soon.
.
.
.
Night came to Irk a couple of hours after their doctor's appointment. He was currently in his quarters, the room in Area-F right above the level where they keep test subjects at bay. He was slightly worried leaving F-313 in her cell given how at a weaker state she was in but the thought of sorting out how to treat her proved to gather more of his attention.
So Pol came to his study, the wide room full of his research and machines that gathered up in all the corners. It was different from the labs though. Here, he could work on things personally and in peace so as to completely do his business without other scientist bugging him with less important work. He preferred to work alone as he was used to, communication not part of his forte but the lacking proved to be a disadvantage to the young Irken through his years in the field. Achieving a high rank would require him to be a good speaker, to say his own thoughts with confidence and pride.
But he was a coward. Well, 'unconfident' is more to his liking but a coward nonetheless.
He knows of this truth the moment he stepped into the research facility. He could hear it from the others, them whispering of his weak spirit and awkward tendencies. By now he could agree though, Vlak's words resounding in his subconscious over and over. He'd never admit it before but time, time again he would question his true purpose. What good would he bring to the empire and what has he contributed for it? Besides working to aid professionals in their fruitless attempts to 'innovate' war machines, is there anything else out there in store for him?
He tried to open up to these thoughts once, just to bring a name for himself.
But that time was his weakest.
He couldn't go for it.
It was too risky.
He was new to the working field and preferred to do his own experiments but such activities were at constant questioning. The continued study of various alien races under their captivity was only in the approval of higher ups if such subjects would be presented in entertainment establishments such as The Collection. But he much preferred an isolated cell than an alien zoo when it comes to keeping his specimens thank you very much.
But he could not keep his shame for long. They've found out about his failure, his embarrassment as an Irken to fail his exam. Perhaps he was not destined to be an Invader Elite as he hoped to be but getting dumped into research work wasn't all that bad compared to Janitorial duty.
Through time though, side effects appeared to antagonize him more and more. He was called the failure by practically all of his co-workers, the coward who ran from the testing.
So yes, perhaps now he could submit to their words.
.
.
.
'I'm sorry...'
A flash of purple appeared in his mind. A lump of weak thin limbs, he remembered, was the thing he was carrying.
He remembered that it was her who spoke.
That it was her who apologized.
The dying female was just below his quarters now, in her empty cell breathing heavily as the hours passed. Although he was sure he was not the one she apologized to, he couldn't really dismiss the feeling it brought to him, hearing a tenderness in her voice that he thought was nonexistent.
It almost seemed funny how he felt relieved that she was still alive and talking in her sleep.
...even if she did call out to the 'Dib' creature again.
.
.
He suppressed the memory, letting the previous thought coming to view.
No. He answered. He wouldn't submit to their cruel words, to their mere opinions.
He shouldn't bother with what they'd think of him much less say of him. Such thoughts should not appear in his mind in such agonizing times like this.
He must save his reputation, yes.
And she is the key. He thought to himself, newfound determination rising up inside of him. His spooch ached almost every time he had to meet the she-beast but he fought the pain, choosing not to show any weakness when she was in sight.
As much of a pain as she is, he can't deny how significant she would become when she was in good health again. Her body was resistant over the Poison. Such fact is clear enough to deem important if he were a true scientist as he claimed he was.
'I must save her' he thoughtfully concluded.
'Yes.'
.
.
.
Gas couldn't sleep.
It was the only thing she wanted to do right now (besides escaping) but she couldn't so she lay awake in that chamber of hers, the sleep she would have to let go for tonight.
'tonight?' she asked herself, unaware of the time.
Was it tonight? Or was there even a time of day here? She hardly knew anymore. It's not like her cell had a window she could look through.
So she sat up, regretting to do so when a sharp pain on her chest presented itself like a bitch and she was met with her head spinning around too.
She cursed.
She doesn't feel so good.
In fact, she feels utterly like shit right now. And that's saying something because she almost never feels so weak before.
Gaz was anything but.
But right now, there was no words to describe the horrible sensation of your whole body betraying you, like all your energy's gone and the absence of it no longer enables you to do anything. Gaz felt so much of this from the small amount of time she spent here. It was hardly a month and it already feels like dying.
'I wish I could just fade away. Be gone.' she thinks bitterly.
'There's nothing for me here.'
'Not anymore.'
.
.
.
A memory.
'Why do you stand so close from the viewing panels?' a voice asks from behind.
'I want to see it.' she says, hardly noticing the other approaching her now.
'See what?' the voice asks again.
She pauses, turns around only to see him, a small smile on his stupid face.
She looks back in front of her, expression a bit irritated but eyes distant, almost contemplative.
She stares off into space, the stars in her eyes.
.
.
'Everything.' she answers.
.
And his smile widens.
.
.
.
.
By the far end of the dark room was the window that showed him the city.
Pol was currently sitting on a floating chair across from the great view, goggles placed on the low table sporting an empty vase. The entire room was submerged in darkness by now, the only source of light being the large oval window in front of him and the narrow dim lights lining the walls.
The particular mood of his environment set him to sit back on his chair and relax. Now he could reflect on the situation more and with a clear mind, he contemplated in peace.
"Computer" He bluntly states, a muted hum catching his hearing. "Determine the coordinates of Invader Zim."
The dim lights transitioned from a pink to green glow, indicating his Computer's awakening.
[Processing...]
[Processing...]
[Processing...]
[Information Classified]
.
.
.
She wasn't like everyone else that feared the unknown or the secrets that laid up in the heavens. Like her brother, she chose to find out what was beyond the veil of darkness that surrounds their planet.
They have chosen to seek out the worlds they've only seen through telescopes up on rooftops and hills.
Truly it was a dream. Well, to her at first.
But now, it was like hell above.
'Just let me be gone.'
.
.
.
"What?!" blue eyes widened to a surprise. Pol made a turn to look behind, staring at the lights that spoke to him just now.
"Computer, elaborate access failure."
[Seeking Invader...]
[Invader under Closed Data Protocol. Access must be granted through certification of mission.]
"So, his whereabouts are locked away in the database." Pol said quietly to himself. He then stood from the comfy floating chair and retrieved his goggles from the tabletop.
"What should I do then, Computer? T-to gain access?" He was pacing now, circling the rims of his eye wear with his finger as he stalked the room. "I can't possibly request a mission related to extracting an invader like him from whatever planet he'd been banished to. It's too risky." A defiant hum could be heard but the Irken was too busy mumbling out worries to himself than to notice. "With my rank of only a-a researcher, a fledgling to add, it seems only elite and trusted invaders could be granted access to meet him."
[Master, perhaps—
"The empire knows how dangerous he is! It's a shock to all that the Control Brains did not chose to deactivate him. In fact—
[He is still on Irk]
A dream
A few blinks.
Then a drop of his possession on hand.
Finally, a turn from him. Now to face the screen that he did not notice appeared on the wall moments ago.
And then, to answer the statement, he asked his computer.
"What?!
to be continued...
.
.
.
a/n it has been a while but I do hope this story progresses as I hope it would. Also, if you are interested to look at my art for this fic, you can see them in my DA account.
I've drawn Zim there but tbh, at the pace we're going, his appearance would probably be presented in the later chapters... so my apologies if I'm a little slow in working on the plot.
I go by my same username there so you can just check it out... and stuff... see the cover I did perhaps?...
alrighty then...