Sorry this took so long. I was distracted. Writers' block, applying to Uni, Playing Harry Potter computer game...
More "gore". Only bad if you picture things while you read them.
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Scorby and Chase went back to their base, sobered by the previous experience. It's not that nobody ever died on the expeditions, it's just that they assumed, through having read the notes on Professor Membrane's computer that the alien was stupid and it would be unable to kill one of them. The contradicting of this hypothesis made them rethink the danger level that they had put on the creature. What they saw next made them rethink it even more.
The whole camp had been torn apart. Everything in the camp seemed to be broken or missing. A little fire had been started on the beach, and in it was the remains of their food, their tent, their inflatable dinghy, and anything else that might've burnt. Their radio was in pieces, with wires hanging out the back of it. Their spare guns had been spiked, and all the ammo was missing. The tracks all around the camp were of small boots, obviously carrying something heavier than they were. The spare flare guns were on the beach in an open box. Scorby went over to the box and picked one up, aiming it at the sky.
'Put that down, Scorby.'
'Mister Chase, don't you think we should call the boat in, and get more supplies, before we hunt the alien again?'
'No.' Chase said. 'I want to catch that creature today, I want it to be alive, and then I'm going to torture it. I'm going to skin it alive, and listen to it scream.' He had an evil gleam in his eyes. 'We are going to split up. If you find it, don't kill it. You can shoot it so long as you don't kill it. Radio me if you find it, but don't get too close to it. Whatever you do, be careful. It has Keelers' gun.'
'That sounds like a perfect idea, Mister Chase.' Scorby agreed, and put the flare gun down his pants.
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Zim was setting the final details on the trap he was setting. It was one of his favourite ones from training, and he hadn't set one for years. IF he set it right, it would break every bone in the victims' body. If he didn't set it right, it would cause a slow, agonising death. If he really didn't set it right, it would just collapse. There was a small margin of error between the last two, and he always tried to set it right, though setting it wrong/right had been his specialty.
He placed the last piece in the trap, and stepped back to admire it. He frowned. He seemed to have camouflaged it too well. He couldn't see it anywhere. He took some tentative steps around where he was sure the trap was to the other side, he then grabbed up all the stuff he had taken from the humans' base while he had been ransacking it.
He had had more time than he had expected, and so had made sure they would have nothing left to use to catch him. He had even left them their escape flares so they could leave the island. He had seen the boat off the island, and knew they would have another small boat on that. They should be grateful he had been so merciful.
He had tried to contact the armada, but their "radio" wasn't powerful enough, and he didn't have the time or materials to strengthen the signal. He walked on to his next site, and passed the place where he had killed the human. Its body was gone, but there was a mound of earth where there hadn't been one before. He kicked a bit of the earth off the pile and sneered. That was why they had taken so much time. They had been burying the body, or at least piling dirt and leaves on top of it.
If they didn't take the hint and fire the flares, he would at least be able to protect himself from them. Though the humans were bad at everything else, they were good at making weapons. When they were conquered they might build weapons for the Armada.
He set his final trap and sighed. Now he had done everything he had been taught to at the Academy, he just had to wait for the humans to die, and stay out of their way while they did so. That shouldn't be too hard. They weren't the most observant of creatures.
He looked up at the sky. It seemed to be getting dark. He thought humans didn't like to be out in the dark, but he wasn't too sure. Every time he had been out when it was dark there had always been humans around. Maybe a city was different to a jungle. Though there was less light in the jungle.
He decided to see if his hypothesis was correct by going to where he thought they would be; on the beach. Making his way through the jungle was easy, because his ocular enhancements meant he could see in the dark, but it was still slow going. He had to remember where his traps had been set and dodge them all.
He did make it to the beach, relatively unscathed. He saw that they were camped around the fire he had started, and chuckled to himself. They had to rely on him for warmth and safety at night. He found a suitable tree and sat in it for the night, watching the humans, so he was ready for them in the morning.
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When it started to get light the humans woke up. Zim watched them sit up and wake up. They would be getting hungry by now, because all their food had been burnt. He saw the underling human dig in the sand near where the camp had been set. He took out a box and opened the lid. There was food in the box.
Scorby was glad that they had buried the food box in the sand for these sorts of circumstances. There would be enough food for the two of them to last a couple of days, but not much longer. He hoped that they had killed the alien by then.
'Scorby', Chase said, 'you go that way.' He pointed in a direction through the forest, 'and I'll go this way. We'll meet up on the other side.'
'Aye, aye, Sir' Scorby responded. 'I'll bring the alien with me.'
'But make sure it's alive.'
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Zim was following the human called Scorby, hiding in the undergrowth so he wasn't seen. He was following this human because it was walking nearer the majority of his traps, and he wanted to make sure it stepped on one, even if it meant pushing the human into the trap himself.
Scorby, on his part, was doing a good job of watching Zim, without Zim knowing he was being watched. The alien wasn't too good at being quiet, and a pink shirt isn't very good camouflage. He grinned to himself, and took a sharp left, leading the alien into a more open part of the island. He knew it was fast, and if he tried to shoot at it in the confines of a jungle, it would probably have hidden itself behind a tree. Its short height meant it would be better suited to going fast through an enclosed space.
He soon made it too the open part of the island, and walked far into it, making sure to keep an eye on the alien. To its' credit, it wasn't leaving the cover of the forest, and was even going further into the trees.
To try and tempt the alien out of the cover of the jungle, he sat down; making sure his back was to it. He knew this was an ill-advised move, but he felt if the alien was intelligent, it would have a natural sense of curiosity, and would wonder as to why he was sitting down.
Zim had no such troubles with curiosity, and when his prey provided him with such an obvious target, he pulled his gun off his back, held it as steadily as he could, given its' size compared to his, and pulled the trigger.
Unfortunately, he wasn't prepared for the recoil, because lasers didn't have any projectiles to force a backwards movement. So, the bullet went about two feet too high and to the left, and he was pushed onto his back because of the force of the blast. When he regained his breath he saw the human standing over him, and felt a blow to the side of his head, turning everything black.
Scorby grinned and picked up the alien. His plan had failed, but it had still succeeded. He was alive, he had the alien, and soon he would have a pay rise as well.
He tuned his radio into Chase's frequency. 'Mr. Chase, I have the alien here.'
Crackle, crackle. 'You do?'
'Yes, sir. I'm holding it in right now.' He said, picking Zim up by his uniform collar.
'Meet me at the camp. We'll signal the boat and then we'll have fun.'
'Yes sir!' Scorby said, with a very pleased sound in his voice.
He placed Zim over his shoulder and went off through the jungle.
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It took Scorby an hour to get to the camp site. The alien may not have been big or heavy, but it was still a dead weight that needed to be carried.
He made it to the beach and dumped Zim on the sand by Scorby's feet. 'There you go Mr. Chase. The alien.'
Chase knelt down by Zim to inspect his condition. 'Very good Scorby. You'll get a pay rise for this.'
'Thankyou Mr. Chase.'
'And do you want to fire the flare gun?'
Scorby grinned and took two steps back, took the gun out of his pants, held the gun above his head and fired it.
Then he fell to the ground screaming, rolling in the sand as fire burnt his clothes, hair, face and hands. He staggered upright, and turned towards Chase.
Chase recoiled in disgust. Scorbys' skin was burning and melting off his face. One of his hands was missing, and the other one was black, burnt skin. His clothes were melting to his skin, and the smell was awful. He smelt of burnt meat and burning hair. His eyes had burst and were just liquid running down his face. The worst thing though, was that Scorby wasn't covered in flames. His clothes were on fire, but the rest of him could be easily seen. He wasn't screaming, either. Scorby ran disorientedly to the sea, but fell before he got halfway, and collapsed in a pile of burnt limbs and clothes.
After Chase finished being sick in the bushes, he turned back to where he had left the alien. It was going to suffer for this. He turned and noticed the alien had vanished.
- -- -- - - -
Is that a flare gun in your pants, or are you just pleased to see me? Ah, Mae West.
I wanted to write "pointless filler" in where most of this story is. I'm so sorry about the dodgy quality.
If anyone thinks I need to bump the rating up, please let me know.