Okay so fuck me dry, I haven't updated this since September? Are you serious? I swear you guys, I thought I did an update sometime in October, at the very least. No joke, is this an error, or have I actually abandoned you for that long? Also apparently, according to FFN, it's taken me 1 year (since my last update) to upload 7 chapters. Holy cow am I unproductive.

Seriously though guys, sooooooo sorry about that unofficial-basically-a-hiatus break. Totally not my intention to make you guys believe this was an abandoned story or what have you. It's my plan to update at least once a month from now on, so hopefully that improves your morale and faith in me enough to stick around a few more chapters, at least. Again, huge apologies guys. Hope this makes it up for you!

Also apparently FFN won't let me expand the document as I see fit and that irritates me. Thumbs down for new layout. X(


CH. 8

There was a lot of police tape. Frankly, a slightly hysterical Dib was impressed at the sheer amount of neon yellow tape surrounding various areas of the carnival; across the way from where he sat, from ferris wheel all the way to the animal keep, the tape warned off civilians and kept journalists at a state-approved distance from where the scene of events had taken place. No one had been severely injured; most wounds were artificial, save for burns and debris/explosion-related injuries.

Everyone on the ferris wheel had been treated for injury and shock, not entirely excluding himself. Or his sister, for that matter. Which was no doubt the source of half of his shock, because Gaz was his baby sister, and she was hurt and scared and quietly withdrawn in a way Dib was unfamiliar with. In the back of his head, Dib recalled stories from members of the Swollen Eyeball, temporarily turned mute by the sheer trauma of burns. (1) Which sounded weird, but Dib was hardly one to throw the unlikely out of the window. He studied the unlikely and absurd for a living, after all.

Dib was also still reeling from his own personal traumas; namely, having to endure the sight of Zim, his self-proclaimed arch-nemesis, tossing his baby sister off of the ferris wheel a good 15 ft. in the air. For a moment, he swore he saw white and felt the world stop. But Gir, thank mercy, had caught her, and his breath had rushed back into his body. He'd felt tears of relief gathering in his eyes, though he'd never admit to it.

But he was still going to strangle Zim.

Said alien was a doing a frankly abhorrent job of mimicking shock, switching between muttering to himself and cursing into his watch and staring doe-eyed and mute at officers and/or medical assistants trying to persuade him to let them check him over. For obvious reasons, Zim steadfastly refused. But everyone was staying behind for the interview process, and the press was beginning to arrive, and Dib was so out of it that he couldn't even take a small bit of satisfaction at Zim's growing panic and discomfort.

Irritatingly, Zim was never nearer to his sister than Dib. They'd been found beside on another, and Dib hadn't the focus or energy reserves left within him to move. And by the wariness of Zim's demeanor as he continued to shoot confused, vaguely suspicious looks towards Gaz, neither did she. He shivered, violently, and the bright orange "shock blanket" around his shoulders—mirror imagines of which could be found draped across everyone's shoulders around him—fluttered at the tremors.

Had he been more aware of his surroundings, perhaps he would have noticed the black cars pulling up, with men in suits escorting his father our before the large, eccentric man himself began to bundle up his sister in his arms.

"My children," his father was saying as he guided her into the backseat. Dib was soon being lifted by the shoulders and dusted off before being led to the car. One of the men in suits carefully spoke to a very intimidated officer, who was nodding his head in an overly-compliant fashion.

"They are to be removed from your list of bystanders, witnesses, and etc.," the man was saying. "Failure to comply will result in affirmative action. Understood?"

Dib had no idea what "affirmative action" meant, but the officer certainly seemed to. He continued to nod, already marking off what was likely his and his sister's name in a thick black marker as Dib was hustled off. He turned his attention away.

The sight of scary men in suits scaring officers was a sight he had grown accustomed to.

What he was not accustomed to was an equally startled Zim being shoved into the car along with the Membrane duo.

"—Eh . . ." Zim finished as the door shut on his face. He blew out an irritated breath, slumping against the thick, comfortable black-leather seats in defeat. Dib took it as the sign of an individual who had decided this battle was not one worth fighting.

"Why are you here?" Gaz's equally irritated question startled him just as much as Zim's actual presence.

"Your filthy parent recognized and removed me from the scene," Zim slouched further into the chair, expression drawing into a scowl. His arms crossed tightly across his chest, he sneered out the window. "As you likely were in far too much of a vegetable state to hear, we are to be escorted home while your father and his people clean up this media mess and investigate the warehouse." His sneer widened into a snarl. "They'll find nothing of value. She was very effective."

"Who?" Gaz pressed.

He did not elaborate. Gaz, for one, made no further attempts to get him to explain. Dib suspected this was an issue unrelated to the Membranes, a personal shenanigan of Zim's that had nothing to do with Earth, and certainly not them. Today had been too much crazy to try and muster up enough energy to care—and thus, involve themselves in something that they had nothing to do with. Their involvement was coincidental, a result of bad luck and worse timing. Gaz, or one, was ready and willing to forget.

"All in favor of forgetting this entire day?" She mumbled through her blanket as the car began to drive away, leaving the gross mess that was the carnival behind them.

Dib hummed a weak agreement. Zim grunted his, and the trio fell silent. Dib had every intention of keeping it that way, moreso when Gaz nodded off, slumping into the leather and his arm. Dib sat middle, and adjusted himself so that her head was tucked against his side, his arm wrapped protectively around her. He was contemplating why couldn't he ever just have a nice, peaceful outing with his sister when he felt eyes on him. Or rather, not the sensation of eyes on him, but attention where it previously had not been being channeled in his direction.

Zim was looking at Gaz, well and truly asleep it seemed, with an expression that warranted somewhere between confusion and disgust. But it was weirdly soft, an expression not unsimilar to a new babysitter having to help a child get gum out of their hair.

"'Sup?" Dib said. It was probably the most informal he'd ever been with Zim, but the car was comfortable, Gaz was nice and warm, and he was too tired to be antagonistic at the moment. Especially not when he was going to be forced to spend who-knew-how-long in a car with Zim. The carnival hadn't exactly been close by. Suddenly, Dib remembered.

"Hey, driver?" He tapped on the glass that politely separated them and the driver. The window rolled down smoothly.

"Yes, sir?" The man asked.

"My sister and I took our bikes to get to the carnival. A blue one and a red one, black handles. The blue one has a basket on it. Could you call them to tell them to bring it back?"

"Yes, sir. I'll have them brought back to your home by this evening."

Dib sat back, and the window rolled back up and returned their privacy.

Zim, meanwhile, now directed his attention towards Dib. His expression was more neutral, with only a vaguely troubled look about him. A scowl threatened the corners of his mouth.

"Something up?" Dib tried again, impulsively. Honestly he couldn't care one way or the other if Zim wanted to ignore him the whole ride back. A part of him was tempted to take Gaz's road and take a nap.

But Zim surprised him by slowly, almost unwillingly, answering him. ". . . Your sister," he said, still frowning. "She is . . . strange."

"Uh," Dib wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. "I mean, I guess so. Sure?" Then he frowned at him. "Don't call my sister names."

Zim ignored his half-hearted defense. "Her hands were injured, and yet she refused Zim's amazing and graciously-offered help." His eyes went directly to Dib's, a demand in the false-contacts. "Why?"

Ah. So that was it. Dib suddenly felt grounded.

"She's just like that," He said. He settled himself into a more comfortable position, with the blanket no longer bunched beneath his thighs. "Gaz doesn't accept help from anybody, except Dad, and me. And sometimes professionals—and only when one of us says she has to." He glanced Zim's way again. The alien seemed to be contemplating this with a surprising amount of seriousness. When Dib spoke again, his eyes were hard, and he held a tone of voice to match them. "Why the sudden interest in my sister, Zim?"

Zim glared up at Dib, sensing the question for the threat it was. "No one actively opposes Zim as much as she does. Not even you, Dib-stink. It is . . . irritating."

It was true enough. Lacking his usual antagonism, Dib was clear-headed enough to not see the remark as an insult to his oath to protect Earth. Zim and he had teamed-up before on several, numerous occasions. The events weren't exactly frequent. Dib would even go so far as to say they were pretty rare instances of dire need on both ends, but should Zim have offered him help in this situation—say he had happened to be in the ferris wheel with them—Dib would have accepted his help and worked with them in an instant. Still, he was obligated and more than happy to defend his sister's rather dismissive behavior.

"I mean, you did throw her into free-fall like, 15 ft. in the air," he snarked. "By the way, you do that again, and I will actually follow you around with a hose and packets of meat for the rest of my life."

"I saved her life, dirt-boy," Zim snarled back. "And yours as well. Had that infernal contraption gone up in flames, you would have ended up as nothing more than cooked meat."

Dib rolled his eyes, but sat in silence to consider this. It was true, Zim definitely had saved them both. No, he hadn't exactly been gentle about it, but the real world tended to be far less neat and put-together as it seemed in stories or newspaper articles of heroic rescues.

"She doesn't see help that way," Dib tried to explain. "She wants to do it herself. Most of the time, she can do it herself. And she's willing to accept the consequences of her actions, regardless of whatever those consequences may be." Even death, his mind supplied. But he forced down that clawing fear to at least finish his explanation. "Interference from outside parties—especially one who has recently started a feud with her, I might add—is generally unwelcome. Does that make any sense?"

Zim hmm'd to himself, looking out the window. Dib took a moment to wonder why he was even bothering with this. Zim didn't really need to know this much about Gaz. It'd taken him most of his life to figure her out. The childish, vain part of him didn't see why Zim couldn't just do the same. The saner part reminded him that he wanted Zim nowhere near his sister, or her personal life. It also helpfully decided that explaining Gaz's motivations would probably keep the overzealous alien from turning Gaz into some kind of obsessive social-experiment.

"She is independent," Zim decided, his tone brooking no argument. Dib hardly minded his finality; the less Zim wanted to know about Gaz, the better.

"Very much so," he agreed. And the car lapsed back into silence.

Zim fell back into silence, fiddling with his watch. Dib casually glanced over at the holographic display, getting a video-feed that was flying around erratically. In the center-lower-field of the screen were three symbols Dib personally did not recognize, but assumed that they stood for "GIR." Zim briefly glanced his way as he saw him looking, but otherwise didn't seem to care much at his prying eyes. Really, he was probably far too used to Dib being nosy.

Speaking of noses.

"Oh, hey," Dib said, suddenly remembering himself. "What was that gook you sprayed on the ferris wheel? It smells like baby-shampoo."

"Hmm?" Zim did not look up, answering as if on auto-pilot. "Ah, yes. Hydopenlenzexene. It prevents chemical reactions."

"Hy-dro-pen-len-zecks-een?" Dib attempted, the word fitting strangely in his mouth.

This time Zim did glance his way, shooting him a look of sardonic contempt. "Yes, very good Dib-stink. Your people's research has proven true; clearly, even monkeys are capable of learning new things."

Dib rolled his eyes, refusing to rise to the bait as he settled in for the drive.

"Thanks, by the way," he said quietly. "For the Gaz-thing."

"I didn't do it for you, worm-baby." He sneered without missing a beat. "Or your filthy sister, for that matter."

Dib had expected as much, but still. "Then why—?"

"The individual who blew up the warehouse," he interrupted, once more focusing on whatever he was making Gir do. "Your deaths would have been a result of their actions, not mine. I cannot allow anyone to murder you but my own hands, actions, weapons and/or devices, or plans."

That was . . . oddly specific. Dib shrugged, "Whatever."


When Zim was dropped off, he didn't bother with a "farewell" of any kind. He got out, slammed the door, and marched into his house, waving off the offers of assistance from the driver. Once Zim was safely inside, the car proceeded to drive them home and drop them off. Dib did accept the man's help in carrying Gaz inside, to her room. As he tucked her into bed, the man politely waited off to the side.

"I will be remaining her to watch you to until you are both deemed healthy enough to look after yourselves once more," he informed Dib, voice carefully muted as a courtesy to his sister's unconscious state. "Should you awake and need anything—food, sustenance of any sort—please let me know." He handed Dib a small device. It literally was a remote; three buttons, 'Call,' 'Cancel,' and 'Emergency.' A small speaker was also attached. The man carefully placed one next to his sister with an attached, curt note. All very neat and professional. Dib was oddly relieved by the lack of sentimental fretting.

Huh. Maybe he was a little emotionally inept.

"Thanks," he said. The man let him pass, shutting Gaz's door behind them both before waiting by Dib's own door, one hand on the handle to close it for him.

"I will be downstairs," he held up his pager as a non-verbal reminder, "Do you require anything before you retire?"

"Can you keep me posted on that bike situation?" He said through a yawn. "That's kind of our only way of getting around town."

"Your bikes are on their way back already. Shall I alert you when they arrive?"

"Uh, no. Just let me know when I get up. And if they got damaged or something, send them out for repairs please. Gaz is going to want Bloaty's when she wakes up. Uuum, here," he handed him a paper he kept by his computer, complete with their food orders from various restaurants that he'd created specifically for situations like this. God, his life was weird. "Get me something from Sherry's, though. I'm not in the mood for pizza."

"As you wish," the man said, folding the paper into his coat. "What time should I wake you?"

He glanced at the clock. It was 4-ish. "Wake me up at 6:30ish. Don't wake Gaz, though. She's super cranky when strangers wake her up."

"Very well. Will that be all?"

"Yeah. Thanks," he added, because in spite of Gaz's poor influence, he actually did have some manners left in him.

The man inclined his head politely. "Sleep well."

And he was alone.


Zim was furious.

The moment that infernal (and absurdly comfortable) vehicle had driven off, he threw back his head and let out a scream of frustration. Tak was kept well beneath the house, with no chance of hearing him, or he might have attempted to restrain himself. As it were, he screamed and roared and belted out his fury until his squeedily-spooch strained from the lack of oxygen. Only then did he stop to take a few breaths, calming his buzzing nerves until he had regained at least a semblance of control.

"Sir?" His house prodded.

Zim took one last soothing breath before answering, "Yes? What is it?"

"The prisoner has once again awakened, if you were interested in interrogating her further." It informed him.

Zim bared his teeth in a little snarl, nodding his head at nothing and heading beneath his house. The elevator hummed as it usually did, no louder or quieter, but this time it grated on his antennae. He was tempted to start shrieking again when the doors slid open.

And there she was.

His prisoner.

Tak looked as haggard as anything, really. Her antennae had lost their curl, drooping at strange angles when forced against their own weight. Her green skin had lost its flush of color, and now she was more a minty color than the healthy green flush of a proper Irken. She was breathing heavily at the sight of him, her eyes half-mad with the rage he was growing accustomed to.

"Still alive, than?" A part of Zim was tempted to watch her slowly deteriorate. Really, her condition thus far was more a result of his own indecision in regards as to what to do with her than any intentional torture practices.

Tak spat at him. It didn't go far.

Zim ignored the antagonistic intent behind her actions, reading the monitors. Tak seemed to be a lot better than she looked. Perhaps it was a ruse, he mused, to get him to restore her PAK to her temporarily. Well, he had no intention of returning her PAK. He'd see her deactivate before he was ever so foolish as to do that.

"You're not fooling anyone," he said, never bothering to look her way. "I can see how healthy you remain. You can stop pretending to be so utterly pathetic."

There was a pause, and then a brief huff. When he turned back around, some of Tak's coloring had returned, and her antennae sat upright once more.

"That was a stupid plan, even for you," he mocked. He placed his chin in his hand, leaning his elbow against the arm of his chair as he considered her. "I still don't know whether to kill you now, myself, or keep you down her until you actually do rot."

"Are you asking my preference?" She grumbled, glaring at the floor.

"Eh, why not," he said to himself. To her, he said, "What is your preference, between the two?"

"Neither," she said. "I'd prefer a warriors death."

Zim rolled his eyes. Ugh, she-irks, he thought to himself. "Unfortunately, for a warriors death to be in any way fair, you'd have to have your PAK. And that will not be happening. So try again."

It was a sadistic request, he knew. But Irkens were nothing if not unnecessarily cruel to those deemed weaker than themselves, and helpless captives certainly fit into that category.

Tak turned away from him, her back with all of the clunky hoses sticking out of it hiding her from view. Zim imagined she looked rather defeated in expression, but refuse to show it to him. Stubborn to the end. Ah well, it had only been a taunted suggestion. He had every intention of choosing the opposite of whatever she said, though. It was sort of disappointing that he still didn't know how to end this, but he'd figure something out, or watch her wither away first.

He frowned. Then again—


Tak lowered her chin to her chest, "Kill me now."

Zim's antennae twitched upward, "Eh?"

"I've weighed the option. And I'd rather be dead. So get it over with: just kill me."


She had asked for death earlier. But he had a feeling that was more bravado then the actual desire to live. Still, he'd a mind to watch her suffer. The other part of him just wanted this over and done with.

In his introspection, the gentle hum behind him almost went unnoticed. It wasn't until Tak turned, one antennae flicked up curiously, that he realized the sound was not one found in this area of his lab.

The sound of a PAK being activated for tracking purposes.

MiMi.

Zim spat a curse, hands going to the PAK. He'd forgotten about that stupid junkyard SIR-unit.

Tak was far more interested now that he tore at her PAK, forcibly removing the circular containment bits that protected all of the contraptions with the small device. When he ripped one near off it's hinges, she actually shrieked.

"STOP IT YOU HORRID—!" She began. She didn't get to finish, as at that moment, Zim tore out a small, blinking box wired directly into the PAK. Without it, there was no way a SIR unit could locate presumably-terminated remains. Tak abruptly cut off with a gasp, as though ripping the wires had physically injured her.

Zim put the box on the floor and quickly brought it beneath his heel. The device gave a high, keening whine as it died, and the light began to fade out. The second time he brought his heel down, the device cracked open, exposing the central wiring. With a final stomp, it was crushed.

Tak was gaping at him, hands shaking. This time, he believed her paleness. Deftly, he considered tossing her the orange blanket scattered on his floor upstairs for shock, but the joke went away as quickly as it had come.

The room fell into silence.

"Sir," The computer announced. "Imminent impact warning. Alert. Alert. Alert."

Zim's head shot to the roof. "WHAT?"

The house rocked, even down here. And before Zim could react, a small figure came plummeting through the roof; a blue cat of red eyes that only paused for a brief moment, long enough to inspect the room. Zim had a weapon drawn and firing just as it darted off, circling Tak once for inspection and zipping around the room. It seemed surprised to find her alive.

"MIMI!" Tak shrieked, pointing, "GET MY PAK!"

Zim aimed to shoot at it, cursing that he hadn't just destroyed the stupid thing earlier when a blue blur shot past. He nicked it with his shot, sending it spinning into a wall. But the recovery time was a mere second before MiMi was by Tak again. Zim shot the cables off and Tak spun away, unplugged and gasping.

10 minutes.

He had to keep the stupid cat distracted for 10—.

The sound of a PAK reactivating made his blood run cold.

The next sound made him shiver.

"KILL HIM," She shrieked, jumping to her feet.

From nowhere, a silver streak shot through the same hole MiMi had made. Ah. Gir had finally come back.

Eyes red and alight, Gir sprung at MiMi, and the two wrestled in a silver and dark blue streak all around the room.

Tak took the opportunity to jump through the hole—wow, he really needed to fix that thing; apparently it was a huge security risk—and Zim gave chase.

"Well, it looks as though you'll have your fighting chance for a warriors death!" He called up to her.

Tak, one hand braced on the hole in the 5th floor roof, snarled backwards at him before continuing her rapid ascent. Zim had hoped she'd stop and charge him. Irritated, he picked up the pace of the pursuit. Tak was quick, but he was stronger. He caught up to hero on the second Lower-Level, dragging her back down by her foot and hurling her into the wall. She gasped and bucked, but quickly regained her composure as he leapt down, stalking towards her with a PAKtcle aimed for her throat. She scrambled away into a ready stance, not daring to use her own PAK just yet.

"Just accept defeat at the hands of the almighty Zim and die already, will you?" He snarled at her.

"Going to hand me over to your precious human boy for dissection afterwards?" She spat back.

And they were back to this, he thought exhaustedly.

"I was thinking more along the lines of gutting you myself," he snarled in reply.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST CAST ME ASIDE AND FORGET ABOUT ME? THAT I'M JUST SOME HAPPENING IN YOUR LIFE TO BE FORGOTTEN ABOUT WHILE YOU ALL MOVE ON? YOU'LL REGRET ME, ZIM. YOU ALL WILL."

"If your intention was to make me actively dislike you, and wish I'd never met you, than mission accomplished. Anyone with the capability of hearing your voice will regret THAT." He snarled back. It was true; all of her screaming about was killer on his antennae.

"It's more than that, Zim. It'll be so much more! You and you precious humans will understand what it's like, what it ALL felt like! When I'm through with this planet, it'll be nothing more than a rotting husk of its current condition, it and the people that inhabit it! I'll end everything I can get my claws in, and I'll make them watch! I'll make them live and I won't even enslave them, not a single human will die by my personal ability! They'll watch their world rot until they succumb, and you'll be stuck right. Here. WITH them."

The two met in combat as Zim hurled himself at her, but that scrap was short lived. Just as he was ready to run her through her 'spooch, MiMi tackled him away. Gir was not far behind to rip her off of his master, but the damage was done. Tak leapt away, MiMi on her heels, and Zim watched them escape through the roof.

This time, his shriek of anger was likely heard by her as she escaped into the skies.


Oh nuuuuuu, Tak escaped, big surprise. The next chapter is on its way already, but I really needed to stop stalling with Tak and just get into the actual plot. I think you guys are really going to like the next chapter. It's full of witty banter from out trio, blackmailing, and lying to authority figures. Yaaaaaaay!

Again, a thousand apologies about that update thing. To make it up to you, post a question in the reviews and I'll answer them all at the beginning of the next chapter!