I am deeply abashed. The bounty hunter was guessed correctly by DeficientAtLife, applause and IZ plushies for her. So far, nobody else has guessed correctly. By the way, any story tips or ideas are welcome. If I use them, or even use a version of them, I'll give you credit. The only limiter is you can't suggest who the bounty hunter will be, I already have that set in stone.
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Trying to hold back impatience, Zim watched as Dib faultlessly walked the length of the room on his spiderlegs. Dib's eyebrows drew together in concentration as he forced the claws at the end of each leg to grip the wall. Slowly he pulled himself up. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he moved on to the ceiling. Every motion required intense focus, full—
"Boo."
"AUGH!" He slipped from the ceiling, flailing. Splayed, his spiderlegs caught him a few feet above the floor. Gaz smirked at him from her position on the ceiling.
"At least you caught yourself this time." Grumbled Zim. "That's enough with the legs, rest and be back in the training room in two hours, you'll be learning to use your lasers and force-field." With that he trudged out of the room.
Rubbing his sore shoulder blades, Dib grimaced. "What's eating him?"
Gaz dropped lightly next to him, sipping an Irken beverage. "Beats me. Just as long as he doesn't start pulling that superiority junk and getting all high-and-mighty, I figure everything's okay. Why, what's the problem?"
Dib stared at the exit Zim had used. "Nothing, I just… nothing." He folded up his spiderlegs and wobbled toward his room. Gaz plopped herself in something that resembled a beanbag and began fiddling with her GameSlave.
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Dib stood in front of his mirror, cradling one spiderleg in his arms, stroking its shiny metal, running his finger from the slender rods and knobby joints to the fine tip. He pulled out his communicator, Ocular Enhancers, jets, lasers, and force-field projectors. He stared at his image.
"I'm a walking Swiss-Army knife," he remarked dryly. But the more he stared at the mirror, the less he could see Dib Membrane. All he could see was his father pointing him to a door to a hall booby-trapped with poison gas. Zim grinning sadistically as he cut Dib open to reveal his not-so-hyuman organs. Every kid in Ms. Bitter's class who avoided him and treated him like a freak.
"Guess they were right."
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Zim sat in the pilot's seat and stretched. "Ahhh, a few hours of glorious peace."
"Master Ziiiiiiiiiiim!"
"GIR, leave me alone! Zim is enjoying peace."
GIR cocked his head to the side, giggling. "Isit a peeece of caaaaaaaaake? I WAN' SOME!"
Zim ducked as GIR swooped over his head and landed on the controls. "There's some in the kitchen-room, go find it." shouted Zim, shoving GIR off the panel. The bot toddled out, unaware of the stress it caused its master.
Leaning back, Zim was just contemplating a soak in the medical tank to relieve his tension when a second voice invaded his thoughts.
"Um, Zim?"
"What now?" Zim snapped irritably.
Dib paused, trying to gather the right words. "Zim, what am I?"
He could almost hear the alien rolling his eyes. "You are the first Irken-Hyuman hybrid, wanted dead on two planets, and an intergalactic outlaw just for being alive."
"I know that, spaceboy," Dib said tersely. "I mean what am I?" Zim turned to face him quizzically. Dib tried again. "Who am I?"
Zim's stared blankly at Dib. "You are Dib Membrane, son of Invader Stok and Professor Membrane, and you are currently bothering a very annoyed Irken, now if you would excuse me, I have work to do!" Zim whirled back to the controls, checking their course and running a brief scan of the ship.
Dib stiffened and walked out angrily. I have work to do. He had heard it so many times he could say it in three languages while sleeping. Fine, whatever. It doesn't matter anyway. It never did and never will.
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The professor had not been much help. What little he knew was, for the most part, of no consequence. She had drugged him to keep him under control and strapped him down in the cargo bay for safety. Couldn't trust a scientist to stay put on an alien vessel.
The one tip she had found useful was that Zim had left in a small vessel, most likely a Voot Cruiser of some type. She grinned. He couldn't go far with two smeets on such a small ship, he'd have to sell it and buy a larger one. Her fingers flew over the keypad of her ship. There were only four Ship dealers in this sector…
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Note: Again, apologies for the late update and short chapter, I've been… distracted… kinda working through some things. Thank you for your patience. )
