Author's Notes: No rambling for me here today. I'm just going to post this long overdue chapter. Why did I think updating three fics at the same time would be a good idea? Oh well..
Prisoner Number 0
Prisoner 777 noticed his cellmate's number shortly after they'd been returned to the zappy room. Yes. He decided he would call it that.
Lard Nar of course returned to his cot and lay down with his back turned towards him. Prisoner 777 blinked. 0. Was that even a real number in the system? He was sure his cellmate must have had an actual number before he escaped. What was it? Fifty something? Why didn't the Irkens just reuse that one?
"Hey… uh…" he was trying to find the right words to say to the moody guy occupying the other side of the room. "You aren't going to start ignoring me again are you?"
He received no response. Prisoner 777 let out an indignant huff as he folded his arms over his chest. "Oh come on. We showered together. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"That sounds wrong, and I don't have anything to say to you right now," his roommate mumbled in his usual irritable fashion.
"Your number is zero," Prisoner 777 told him.
"Yes… I know," Lard Nar muttered. He added, "I don't want you to start calling me that."
"How about Nil?"
"No."
"Null?"
Lard Nar heaved a sigh. "Would you just stop it?"
"What about Nix?"
"If you have to call me something relating to 0, then fine," Lard Nar said abruptly, before Prisoner 777 could continue listing every word meaning or having to do with the concept of zero off the top of his head.
"You hate it," Prisoner 777 noted, his hopeful expression crumbling. "I guess I'll call you by your real name and get punched in the face."
"You can call me whatever you bloody want," Lard Nar insisted. He remained unmoving.
"I'm just joking," Prisoner 777 decided to sit down on the edge of his cot. He was beginning to realize it didn't take much to get his cellmate riled up. "There's no need to get upset."
He slouched forward a bit. "You know, both my parents are still alive in here somewhere. There's not many old ones left. They kept dying from heart failure when they were zapped, but both of them managed to make it."
Lard Nar didn't respond to this, and after a while, Prisoner 777 decided to give up and try sleeping again. He lay down and turned over so he was facing the electric force-field.
"Mine are dead…" Lard Nar muttered quietly.
Prisoner 777 propped himself up and turned to look at the sullen former rebel. "I'm sorry… that must've been awful…"
"They didn't have many years left anyway…" Lard Nar spoke. It sounded like he was trying to console himself.
"I lost a sister a few years back, so I know what it's like to lose someone close to you…"
"I didn't lose them… they were taken by the Empire… killed…" he suddenly pulled himself into a sitting position and stared in horror at some unseen memory. "Just like… just like the others…"
"What others…?" Prisoner 777 asked him, unable to suppress his curiosity. He knew a few people that died in the prison, and he wondered if Lard Nar had known them too.
Lard Nar's distant gaze changed into a scowl as he glanced at Prisoner 777. "Nothing," he insisted. "Never mind."
"Why can't you tell me?" Prisoner 777 questioned in exasperation, and he flopped back down on the hard mattress. He turned his head to the side and sucked in a breath. Honestly, they were going to be cellmates for who knows how long…
"Because… I don't want you to know…" Lard Nar replied; his voice cracking.
"Hey… are you…?"
Prisoner 777 carefully rolled off the cot and walked over to Lard Nar who kept his head bowed to hide his tearful expression. He placed a hand on his cellmate's shoulder, hoping to reassure him.
"You can tell me whatever you want. I'll still be here at the end of the day, I promise." He offered a smile. "The Irkens won't kill me or anything…" he paused. "Well…. I can't really say that because they don't know about the stuff I've been smuggling to Zim, and they might think that's death worthy…" he cleared his throat, realizing he was slowly going off topic. "So uh… just tell me what's up ok? Then we can talk more and you won't have to worry about it accidently slipping out."
He didn't expect to be caught up in a hug-like situation. Prisoner 777 stiffened as Lard Nar's good arm wrapped around him and drew him down. Bent over, he tried to find something he could look at that might take away from the awkwardness. The room would look so much nicer with a lamp…
"They told me you were dead… a-all of you… the planet…" Lard Nar spoke; his words wavering. "It was gone… everything… because of me… because I resisted… there was nothing… nothing left… and it was my fault!" he blurted, and his small frame wracked with sobs.
His grip on Prisoner 777 tightened desperately, like he was worried the other Vortian could vanish at any moment. "They showed me… burnt buildings… dead bodies… it was…" he inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. "It was a trick… virtual reality… but everything looked so real… they wanted me to crack… they were trying to wear me down… I had nothing to lose though… so I kept quiet… even when they broke my arm and forced things down my throat… s-submerged me in ice-water, shocked me, beat me… I don't remember saying your name, but I must have…
They forced things down his throat…? Prisoner 777's eyes widened. He tried to do the same thing, no wonder his cellmate reacted the way he did… and Lard Nar was even willing to take the blame for it.
"I'm sorry Laes…" Lard Nar's grip slackened and he moved to lie back down. "I wanted to free you all… I just… I never thought about what they could do to you..." he bit his bottom lip. "They could still… they might think I gave you information. I don't want that to happen… I couldn't live with myself if that happened…"
Prisoner 777 sighed and rubbed his temples. There were a few things he wanted to talk about. Where should he start? "Ok, first of all, if the Irkens suddenly slaughtered us all, it wouldn't be your fault."
He seated himself on the edge of Lard Nar's cot. "When someone kills a person, it's the killer's fault. You know that right?" Even if it was a terrible unfortunate accident like someone was swinging a hammer and this person lost their grip and the tool went flying through the air, and it crashed into another thing which caused the other thing to fall and fatally crush some guy… that had been one of the more bizarre incidents mentioned in the newspaper before the invasion. He figured right now was probably not the time to bring up random old news from the past though.
Lard Nar gave him a slight nod of affirmation.
"Secondly, you shouldn't feel guilty about saying my name. I got out of it alright, and it's not like you could help it," He placed his hand on Lard Nar's shoulder again to offer some reassurance.
"Heck, if I was put in your position, all of the names of my recently deceased relatives and old childhood friends I haven't seen since… well, childhood, probably would have spewed out of my mouth in some kind of semi-intelligible mess." He pursed his lips at the thought. "Yuup… and third… you need to talk to me about those kinds of things ok?" He shook his head and let out a sigh. "I almost accidentally tortured you yesterday without even knowing it…"
"I still shouldn't have reacted the way I did…" Lard Nar mumbled, curling closer to himself. "I didn't mean to hurt you…"
Prisoner 777 waved away his concern. "That didn't hurt at all."
"You were holding your back," Lard Nar stated.
"Oh… er… I was?"
"Yes."
"Well… it didn't hurt much… not enough for me to remember it hurting anyway."
"I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry," Prisoner 777 insisted. "You don't need to be sorry, you were just defending yourself. I understand."
"I'll try eating something today…" Lard Nar told him, sounding tired. "It's just... the mystery mush is kind of intimidating…"
Was that a joke? Could it be his cellmate was actually joking with him? Prisoner 777 cracked a grin. "Yeah no kidding. I'm almost afraid to find out what's in it."
"Blorch rats," Lard Nar responded wryly.
"Ughh!" Prisoner 777 made a disgusted face. "No way… that's disgusting! Now I know why you didn't want to touch…"
"That was the rumour right after the invasion remember? I wasn't being serious."
"Oh right…" Prisoner 777 rubbed his chin. "No one was able to disprove that rumour though… but even if it was Blorch rats, the supply would have run-out by now."
"I won't tell you about the latest planet they destroyed then."
"What was it?" he immediately asked, curious.
"Pestis."
"The planet with all the giant insect people?"
"Yes."
"Oh man…" Prisoner 777 buried his face in his hands. He perked up almost instantly when he realized his cellmate knew a lot about what was going on in the galaxy. He and the other prisoners didn't have access to that kind of information, and even when someone did manage to hack into an Irken database, everything was censored.
"What else is going on?" Prisoner 777 asked, glancing down at the rebel's pensive face. "Don't worry, the Irkens already know about it right? They won't hurt anyone for information they already have."
Lard Nar slowly exhaled. Had he been holding his breath?
"More victories for the Irkens…" the former captain mumbled. "Not much else…"
Prisoner 777 drooped in disappointment. "That wasn't nearly as exciting as I thought it was going to be."
Clack clack clack.
The sound of Irken boot-steps alerted both of the prisoners to the hall outside their cell. Bann must've finished escorting the other prisoners in the wing to and from the showers.
When the Irken guard stepped into the room, Prisoner 777's eyes focused on the large purple bruise under Bann's right eye. He brought a hand to his mouth and hopped off the cot. "Did he…?"
The young guard smiled. "A smack for a bandage," he held up the white square piece of cloth. "Not a bad trade if I say so myself."
"Oh jeez Bann… let me see," Prisoner 777 insisted, and the young Irken guard crouched down, smiling.
"Not much to see really," Bann said, allowing him to turn his face so he could get a better look at the bruise. "It just needs a bit of ice."
Bann didn't seem to mind physical contact. This was weird, because all the other Irkens Prisoner 777 knew hated being touched, especially by a 'disgusting' alien. Touching one of the guards for instance, even by accident, could earn a prisoner a few good shocks. Then the armoured Irken would step off the floor in order to disinfect themselves, and they would be grumpy for the rest of the day. Yeah. Normally it was better for everyone to maintain personal boundaries with their captors.
Defective…
Prisoner 777 pulled away and stared at Bann. There was that word again… why did his cellmate have to go say something like that? Bann was just nice, that's all. There was nothing wrong with him since he was still dutifully fitting into the mesh of his crazy society.
"S-sorry," Prisoner 777 stammered. "It looks like he really knocked you one… um… thanks for going out of your way to help… it uh… means a lot you know…"
Bann chuckled as he rose to his feet. "I do what I can," he said before switching his attention to Lard Nar. "It looks like the warden has a personal vendetta against your friend there. I overheard him talking."
"Before or after he hit you?" Prisoner 777 asked with an edge of cheekiness.
"Before, right around the time I failed at sneaking."
"I guess it's good you don't have a job that requires you to be sneaky eh?"
"Yes… I can only imagine how much failure would happen if I was something like an invader," Bann admitted with a smirk. "Oh, and after today I'll have Buckram following me around so…"
"No bantering?" Prisoner 777 questioned disappointed.
"Unfortunately."
"That sucks."
"You'll be fine," Bann encouraged him. "You've got your friend here."
"I meant for you."
"The only enjoyment I got from this job, taken away," Bann remarked humorously. "Oh well. I'm sure Buckram will provide some kind of conversation… about work. Or work. Hmm…" he scratched his chin. "He might even talk about work if I'm lucky."
"Pft…" Prisoner 777 covered his mouth to muffle a laugh.
Bann walked over to Lard Nar's cot and held out the bandage. "Is it alright if I take a look at your arm?" he asked.
The former rebel's grip tightened on his broken limb, and he kept his back to the Irken.
"That would be a no…" Bann noted. "That's ok. I won't do anything without your permission," he promised before regarding Prisoner 777. "I'll leave this for you alright? Help him tie it on. It'll keep his arm in place at least."
"Sure ok," Prisoner 777 agreed as he moved to take the triangular piece of cloth from the guard.
"You might also want to make sure the bone is lined up properly or he might not regain full use of his hand."
"Err… right…" Prisoner 777 agreed, making a face. He was pretty squeamish, so he wasn't sure he'd be able to do something like that. "Is it that bad…?"
"I would guess so," Bann replied. "I wasn't there for the interrogation… I usually find some excuse to keep myself away from that kind of thing, but I know the guards can break far stronger things easily."
After saying this, he turned and walked out of the room.
For a while Prisoner 777 stood there silently, listening to the crackling of the electrical current surrounding him. He let out a sigh and turned to his cellmate who hadn't budged at all. "Hey um… let's get this on you ok?"
"Do you trust that guard?" Lard Nar asked, still unmoving.
"He won't hurt us," Prisoner 777 replied in confidence as he approached the cot. "Now let's see if I can get this to work. Sit up and I'll try tying this…"
Lard Nar slowly moved to sit, gripping his useless arm close to his body.
"It would have been better for Bann to do this," Prisoner 777 told him, wrapping the white cloth over Lard Nar's broken limb. "He was a medic before he was a guard you know. You should at least let him take a proper look."
Once Prisoner 777 managed to somewhat fasten the bandage into a sling that was a bit too loose and the knot was too big, and heck, there was plenty of things wrong with it, but it was on at least. He returned to his own cot in order to get some sleep. It was either this or count-down the seconds to the next shower day, which would be in a week, same time and place, but probably with different people.
He was hoping to talk seven forty three who had recently lost his daughter to some unfortunate mishap in the labs. There had been a biochemical spill from what he'd heard. Very tragic. Three of the prisoners died choking on noxious gases.
This kind of thing wasn't new. Vortians were scientists, labtechs, researchers, and engineers. There were usually a few dangers that came with each job title. Even after the Irken occupation that hadn't changed.
"Laes…" Lard Nar spoke quietly.
"Mhm hmm?" Prisoner 777 responded, not bothering to open his eyes. "Call me Triple Seven," he added.
"Have you ever thought of escaping from this place?"
"Of course," he replied. "But the only time I was really serious about it was when I thought I was going to die. Did you see the grate in the room? I was thinking of making a mad dash for it… only I wasn't too sure you'd be able to follow, so I stayed instead."
"You didn't have to…"
"I might be a coward, but I'm not a jerk."
"At that point I was a goner anyway… a rebel captured by his enemies… left in a room full of angry Irken guards… I knew I wasn't going to make it out alive… I'd accepted it…"
"Hey, I had the same exact feeling," Prisoner 777 chuckled. "Minus the rebel part. The only thing I've done to 'rebel' is assist in making the invisibility cloak on the Megadoomer not hide the pilot. It was actually pretty funny. I don't know how they didn't catch it during the trial run. It was kind of obvious."
"You weren't caught…?" Lard Nar ventured.
Man it felt good to have a chattier roommate.
Prisoner 777 opened his eyes and rolled over to face Lard Nar across the room. The captured rebel was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
"There were seventeen of us working on different parts of it, and the final touches were added by Irken engineers… so… I guess they weren't sure who exactly was to blame."
"You're lucky they didn't punish everyone involved."
"Yeah… I guess so. I never really thought about it much after the 'flaw' was discovered. Now they're working on an upgraded version of the Megadoomer, the Gigadoomer. I'm supposed to draw out the initial designs for the canons and come up with a new program for the auto-pilot. If those are approved I might be placed on the actual building team which will probably include five or six others under close watch of a zap-happy guard." He blinked. "Did you help build anything when you were in prison before?"
"Yes… but they were forced to scrap it."
"Why?"
"Because I designed it so the core would overheat and melt a few of the circuits needed for movement."
Prisoner 777 chuckled. "Awesome. Was it a battle mech?"
"It was a battle ship," Lard Nar corrected.
"Oh. That reminds me of the time we helped design the Massive."
"Don't remind me…"
"Yeah, I never thought it'd become a joy-ride for a couple irresponsible Irken teenagers either…" he sighed. "I kind of thought Miyuki would be alive for a while. It's too bad about that blob thing, you know, eating her."
"It also destroyed the lab."
"Yeah. And a second one too, but at least it stayed away from Vort."
"Miyuki was the only one who got eaten."
"That was a little weird," Prisoner 777 admitted. "It didn't even blink at us. Maybe we just didn't have enough energy for it or something. I did pull an all-nighter that night… Does that even make sense?"
"… since Zim was the one who made it… I'm not sure it needs to make sense," his cellmate responded.
Prisoner 777 fell asleep shortly after the conversation petered out. There was no point in staying awake once the talking stopped.
Thunk!
Wait… thunk?
Prisoner 777 stirred when he heard what sounded like something landing on the floor. His eyes cracked open, revealing a blurry and unfocused room. He blinked a few times, trying to regain his vision before propping himself up. "Hey Nix… what was that…?" he mumbled, only to discover Lard Nar wasn't even in the cell.
There was a box of something… a care package maybe? He stared at it for a while, trying to think of who would have sent him a box. His parents couldn't since they were locked up somewhere in the prison, and he didn't really know anyone on the outside.
It took him a moment to realize what it was. He smiled and shook his head. Of course! Bann said he'd get him working on the Gigadoomer project again.
He jumped out of bed and began digging enthusiastically through the box. Blank disks for storing information, a basic rough design for the battle mech printed on paper, and an updated list of demands from the Irken authorities. Perfect! He was going to have fun today.
He snagged one of the blank disks and the basic design graph and headed over to the computer. He popped the empty one into a slot and… the program needed to be updated. Ok. Downloading the upgrade. Hit the x on the random advertisement. Really? Some things never changed…
Alright. Download completed. Installing… one percent.
A few minutes later… one point five percent.
Prisoner 777 let out a long sigh and returned to his cot. This was going to take a while.
He gripped his mid-section, suddenly aware of the gnawing emptiness inside him. Since their rations were cut in half, they wouldn't get any food until evening. He'd just have to daydream about Vort-dogs and pancakes until then.
He was right in the middle of imagining a big buffet when the force-field parted. He sat up, wiping some drool from his face. His chest constricted and his eyes widened as he watched his cellmate get thrown onto the floor.
Lard Nar was battered and bloody. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily.
Prisoner 777 jumped off his cot and scrambled over to his cellmate's side. "Nix? Lard Nar!?" he blurted. "Oh gosh… oh oh… what do I do?" He looked around, hoping maybe the answer would be on the floor or force field somewhere.
No such luck…
He wasn't sure if it was safe to move Lard Nar from where he was, so Prisoner 777 grabbed his own pillow and brought it over to the badly beaten Vortian. He carefully lifted Lard Nar's head and tucked the pillow underneath.
He could feel the fresh warm blood on his hands. Cringing, he held one of his hands out for inspection. It was red. "Guaah!" He fell backwards in surprise, gasping for breath. This was too much… he hated seeing blood, and now it was on him and… he closed his eyes. That was a bit better.
Wait, what was he doing? Lard Nar needed his help. But he didn't know what to do…
If only Bann would come… he'd know what to do.
He opened his eyes when he heard Lard Nar groan. Really? Couldn't that guy stay fainted, especially when being awake would hurt like helk?
"Laes…" his cellmate spoke softly.
"Y-yes, yes I'm here," Prisoner 777 stammered.
"Are you… ok…?"
"Would you… why are you asking me that…?" Prisoner 777 questioned.
"They didn't… you're ok…?" Lard Nar pressed, sounding worried.
"I'm fine," Prisoner 777 replied; the room started to blur as tears entered his vision. No. Shoot. Get a grip. Lard Nar was in pain, and all he could do was cry about it?
His cellmate breathed a sigh of relief. "Good…"
Prisoner 777 watched as Lard Nar closed his eyes and relaxed. His cellmate must have lost consciousness for real this time.
He grabbed the thin blanket from his cot and used it to cover the injured rebel… that's what the Irkens saw Lard Nar as… a rebel; a danger to their Tallest. No one ever threatened Irk's Tallest and got away with it, but this… just what were they doing?
He sat down beside Lard Nar's still form and stared at the electrical current buzzing around them. He wasn't sure how much time passed when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching their cell. Feeling a bit protective over his hurt cellmate, Prisoner 777 positioned himself between the entrance place and Lard Nar.
"I came as soon as I heard…" Bann spoke as he entered the room. His face looked a bit pale and he kept glancing behind him like he expected someone else to suddenly appear. "How is he? Did you check for breaks?"
"Bann…" a feeling of relief flooded through him. He wiped away a few stray tears and managed a smile. "No, I uh… kind of freaked out with all the blood…"
"It's a good thing you're not a medic then," Bann half-joked as he crouched down beside Prisoner 777 and began checking Lard Nar over.
"Is it bad? Is he going to be ok?" Prisoner 777 questioned him anxiously, placing a hand on the young guard's shoulder and leaning in, forcing himself to take a better look.
There were two long gashes running across Lard Nar's chest… maybe from a sickle? The guards carried those around too sometimes, usually not inside the prison because they were so bulky to hold… the wounds were bleeding badly, and there seemed to be scald marks on his hands and arms where his skin was red and swollen with blisters beginning to form.
"Oh Ganre…" Prisoner 777 covered his mouth and turned away. He felt like vomiting.
"Go lie down before I have two people I need to treat," Bann said, pointing at his cot.
Boy was he useless… Prisoner 777 slowly stood up and trudged over to his sleeping place which was currently lacking everything besides the rock-hard mattress. He lay down and curled into a fetal position, trying to think of things that wouldn't result in him puking.
Bann came and left a few times. Prisoner 777 didn't move or speak at all. He felt horribly guilty over the fact he couldn't stomach the sight of blood and seared flesh very well. Instead of being all nauseous, he should be helping…
Forget this. He would help even if he barfed all over the floor!
He sat up and slid off the cot, ignoring the wave of nausea and dizziness that followed. After taking a few deep breaths to regain his bearings, he stumbled over to the other cot. Bann must have decided to move Lard Nar from the floor onto the slightly more comfortable mattress.
His cellmate was still unconscious, thank goodness… Bann had taken the time to wrap Lard Nar's burns in adhesive bandages and rewrap the sling. It looked much better now than it had before.
Prisoner 777 wondered if he should practice knot tying the next time he was bored to death.
Clang! Clang!
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard metal hitting metal. He spun around to face the entrance area only to find the food trays sitting on the floor. Oh sure. Now they get food. He breathed a sigh.
"Laes…?" Lard Nar murmured. The sound must have woken him up.
Prisoner 777 turned to face his injured cellmate. "Y-Yeah?" he stammered, still a bit shaken from the whole thing. "How are you feeling? Do you want me to do something? I mean… I don't really know what to do, but if you need me for something, I'm right here ok?"
"I…I'm a bit… thirsty…" Lard Nar admitted as his eyes slowly opened, bleary and unfocused.
"Err…" water was kind of a luxury item in the prison since the grey mush stuff served to both hydrate and nourish the prisoners. "The only thing we have is the 'stuff' they give us to 'eat,'" he told his cellmate. "Is that… will that be ok?"
"Yes…" Lard Nar agreed, moaning as he tried to move his good arm.
"Hey hey, just… don't move ok?" Prisoner 777 remarked, scooping up one of the trays and rushing over to his cellmate's side. "Bann just got you bandaged up."
"Hurts…" Lard Nar mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. He ground his teeth and let out a pitiful whimper. "It… won't stop…" Tears trailed down his face. "They won't stop…"
Prisoner 777 cringed and clutched the tray tighter in his hands. His chest constricted painfully in his chest as he slowly exhaled. He didn't get angry easily, but he was furious right now. Livid even. If a guard came in who wasn't Bann, he wasn't too sure what he would do. He wanted to punch an Irken in the face for this.
Be calm… anger never helped anyone inside the prison… he mentally told himself.
Unless they had access to explosives, another part of his brain added. "Ok… I'm going to help you sit…"
Lard Nar brought his good arm underneath him and attempted to sit up without assistance. His arm trembled and he moaned painfully.
"No jeez, look, let me help you," Prisoner 777 insisted, switching the tray to one hand and grasping his cellmate by the shoulder. He slowly pulled Lard Nar into a sitting position, wincing each time his wounded cellmate moaned or whimpered.
Once he was sure Lard Nar could hold himself up, he removed his hand and grabbed a small plastic spoon sitting on the edge of the tray. He filled it and brought it close to his cellmate's mouth.
Lard Nar turned his head away.
"I know it looks gross," Prisoner 777 said. "But it's the only thing we have… it helps if you can imagine its pudding or cereal or something less… disturbing."
"…I'm sorry…" Lard Nar muttered. "You don't… have to do this…"
"Are you saying you'd completely ignore me if this ever happened to me?" Prisoner 777 pressed.
"N-no…" Lard Nar spoke; his voice waning.
"Then don't expect me to do that ok?" Prisoner 777 said, offering a small half-hearted smile.
His cellmate turned to him with tears still running down his face. "Y-Yeah… Ok."
More Notes: I felt a bit bad for thinking about chips when I named prisoner 777 for this fic, so I decided to look up his name with the spelling I used, and I'm happy to report it means several non-chip related things. It also seems to be a normal last name.
I like doing that: naming a character something then going to check later if their personality ect matches the meaning of their name. Frequently it does not.