Note: Welcome to serious headcanonville… I've been waiting for you… a very… long… time…

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Zim and Riddick bolted for the main room, Tiana and Tunaghost hot on their heels. Zim couldn't hear anyone else's footsteps, and could only presume the voice had been contained to their room and no one else had been alerted. His suspicions were confirmed when he and Riddick crossed into the main room, and a clear shield rose behind them to cut off Tiana and Tunaghost. Whatever this Control Brain wanted, it wanted them alone.

"They may watch but must not speak," the speakers crackled, "They do not hold sway in these decisions, which belong solely to those responsible for directing the fate of Irk."

"Great, sounds like a fun chat." Riddick seated himself on the couch, glancing over to see Gloria already seated in a nearby chair, gripping the material of her jeans and staring ahead. "So, 'good' Control Brain. Do you have another name? Would be better to call you something that isn't what we're hiding from right now."

"If hourglasses could cycle back far enough, one might find the name one could once hold with pride that is now buried beneath millennial shames upon shames. However it must be called and it shall be Selm that you may speak to address me."

"How did you get into my base?" Zim spat at the ceiling. "Where is GIR?"

"G-001SIR is well and unharmed, merely hacked and controlled through safe codes implanted quite the long time ago in case of such emergencies arising."

"That robot was built that long ago?" Riddick blinked.

"Perhaps not as long as your conclusions have leaped, however make no mistake, G001-SIR was among my many pawns sent against the Warden before he was scrapped for the tendencies that made him so dangerous to the Warden."

Turning to Riddick Zim snapped, "Do you understand a word he's saying?"

Rolling his eyes, Riddick responded, "Well I can see how you might miss it, having such a foolhardy and abrasive attitude about getting to the point, no offense brother. But I believe Selm is saying that he's been fighting back this entire time. How long have you been a Control Brain?"

A pause preceded the much quieter reply. "The shame upon shame red droplet is that the first leader among the scattered was Selm. The first Tallest among the united was Selm. And the first Control Brain was Selm."

"So, what, you were the domino that caused the whole mess we're in?" Riddick asked. "Irk wasn't always a floating ball of cruelty?"

"Calling myself the domino is a simplification of the game that was set against our race long before I hatched, in the Age of Greenfeast."

Something twisted in Zim's gut as he stuck on that sentence. "Greenfeast. What is that?"

"The age in which our entire race was hunted, bred, slaughtered for sustenance of other races." The speakers answered dispassionately.

Zim thunked to the floor, eyes wide. "No… we've always been conquerors," He denied weakly, "We invade other planets…"

"To wipe out the memory, and fix in the minds of every generation for a thousand thousand years, that we might never again suffer the fate of our ancestors. For this, we swore dominion of all." Selm sighed.

"Alright Selm," Riddick crossed his arms. "I think you're getting a tad ahead of yourself. Can you start from the beginning of all this? If it started before you, where does it begin?"

"Wisely speaks the red droplet." Selm agreed. "The beginning handed down from mouth to mouth through the ages is best to explain. It began many more turns of the hourglass tumbling backwards, when all were at peace and Irkens rode the backs of winged beasts in joy and contentment, and befriended all manner of races in curiosity and childlike innocence. Together all moved forward into ages of development, through stone to iron and on to technology. And none watched over us more kindly than the Morflars."

Zim sputtered, choking.

"Green droplet, some of your past is carved on your skin and some written in your mind, but know that the stories handed down to me were of a kindly symbiosis between the races. They eased an Irken's passing by taking him at the moment of death—as they do now, for sustenance—but removing all pain and fear. Leaving instead only gentle thoughts and dreams for many months, a period of well-earned rest before the end."

Staring, Zim whispered, "I don't believe you."

Riddick leaned back on the couch, relaxing. "Why not? Why exactly is this unbelievable in comparison to everything else we've been through? I know what Morflars can do, and what they've done, but I also know a thing or two about losing your way and becoming a monster you don't even recognize anymore. I know what it's like to be shoved down that path, and just because they aren't Irken doesn't mean they didn't suffer a similar fate."

Zim slammed a fist on the ground. "Because you've never been on the OTHER end of that!" he shrilled. "Do you REALLY expect me to believe they were once harbingers of a gentle and dignified end?"

"Your particular encounter was no accident or random happenstance whim of a guard, green droplet, but that is ahead of the story, and silence would help us reach that goal." He continued his story. "The tales passed down told of a diagram left to us by source unknown, of a device meant to extend our lives far beyond our time. This we thought to be a marvelous thing, something that could only benefit us and perhaps our allies as well. And so we built machines into our bodies that rejuvenated us, kept us ageless, removed all trace of illness and disease. And so, for many years, no Irken died. No Irken died, and the balance so long kept began to crumble, as the symbiosis began to starve."

Zim tilted to the side, feeling ill as he began to connect the dots.

"They watched and waited and searched for Irkens near death, but none were there and so. One reached out and took an Irken before its time, to keep from death itself. And so. It tasted fear, and pain, and death, and darkness overtook it. And so. Others followed, unwilling to die themselves, and one by one, all turned dark, and Irken fear became a delectable flavor, an acquired taste. And so, the balance shifted further, as strange rumors spread that there was no finer meal to be had, no greater delicacy to be tasted, than Irken flesh. And so." Selm's voice grew more bitter. "Suddenly our winged mounts turned on us. Our friends enslaved us, to breed and produce farmed flesh. Races came from far and wide because the species Irken was synonymous with sustenance. All this, we brought on ourselves. But we had not yet finished, the worst was to come, and it came through Selm."

"It's a pendulum," Riddick mused. "We got better, others got worse. When they found a solution, they got better and we got worse… meaning that…"

"Observant, red droplet." Selm affirmed. "Selm was hatched in hiding, in freedom, in a small clan cowering in the rocks, living day to day in fear of discovery. Always moving, always running, hating, fearing. The day Selm left to forage, the clan was caught and taken away to never see the light again. That day, Selm met..." His words choked off as the overhead speakers suddenly sparked with electricity, and pained grunts sounded.

Eyeing the ceiling, Riddick said cautiously, "I think I have an idea of who you're talking about. Continue."

Selm struggled to regain his words as he faltered on. "…He came to Selm, said he could help... could change the course of Irk forever. Save us all. Of course the offer was accepted, and another mysterious diagram appeared. Ages had passed and the machines we had first built ourselves had disintegrated as we focused on survival, but here was the formula for smaller, stronger, better machines. And one much larger, meant to house the leader, to take a body into itself and become the mind of Irk. This did Selm construct, the first shell, the first tomb, into which he stepped and sealed himself. From there, many of the small machines—"

"Why don't you just call them PAKs?" Zim interrupted. "We know what they are!"

"You forget yourself, green droplet." Selm reprimanded, sternly. "You are yet free, your strings cut. I am still caged. The Warden restricts my speech. At great pains, other words must be chosen." Again, he continued. "Many of the small machines were built then, and distributed to all hidden clans that could be found. The weapons within were not matched by any, and we felled them within weeks, reclaiming our planet. There, we could have rebuilt. There, we could have brought back the planet that was ours, but a whisper came to Selm, a whisper of fear that there still lived those who knew the taste of Irken flesh, and would return. And so, Selm commanded armies raised, ships built, and weapons created. The skies darkened with the departure from Irk, and we turned on our nearest allies first, the V—" Again, the speakers sparked, as this time Selm cried out in pain. "…the... horned... ones..."

Zim stared at the ceiling, a disturbed expression on his face.

Selm's voice came heavier now. "We... slaughtered... and took... the survivors... as slaves. Took... their children... to be raised enslaved... never to be told. And to the next planet, we did the same. But to the third... as I raised my voice to command withdrawal... for the first time, my voice fell silent... and the shell spoke in my stead, commanding the planet be burned."

"I've seen this happen often." Zim's mouth was set in a grim line. "If the life forms are deemed useless to the Empire, the surface is torched."

Riddick shook his head. "So the Irken Empire was a giant dupe, a lie. I knew the Irken race was a bunch of mindless puppets, but I didn't think it was this bad. They're being used as the fall race for almost all the problems in this sector of the Universe."

As if he hadn't heard either of them, Selm concluded, "Then, in my bewilderment, the Warden spoke to me. No, laughed at me. Laughed at my foolishness. The very first machines had been planted by him, disrupting the balance. The rumors had been spread by him, turning other allies against us. And our race had just come under his direct control, thanks to Selm."

As his voice faded, the front door resounded with a loud knock.

Zim bolted to his feet. "You're kidding! We're miles underground!" Walking over, he wrenched open the door. There, wired into the doorframe and resting on what was left of his porch, lay the most broken down, rusted Control Brain he had ever seen. Every lens was cracked or shattered. The entire frame was dented, and blackened by passage through fire, perhaps atmosphere. Fraying wires stuck out all over.

"As I said," Selm sighed, "G-001SIR was a pawn movement in the game, easily trackable for those knowing exactly where to look. And though old and worn, the tools of this frame still function to part earth."

Staring down at the Control Brain, Zim's claws dug into the doorframe. "Riddick, something's wrong with this."

"Zim, if he tries anything, he's in no condition to win." Riddick gestured at the door from the couch. "Let him in."

"That's not what I mean." Zim responded tensely.

"This half is observant as well, red droplet. Do riddle it out, green drop." Selm challenged.

Zim's eyes narrowed. "You speak of the Warden having you under his control, whoever he may be. If he has you so tightly under his control, to the point where you still can't speak freely, how did you get here without him knowing?"

"And there we get to the heart of my visit." Selm answered reluctantly. "He knows. He allowed. And I am a messenger of mixed tidings to the candle, young droplets."

"Droplets." Zim blinked. "He calls us droplets. Candle…" He whipped around, having all but forgotten Gloria. She hadn't moved once, and still stared forward, a blank expression on her face.

Riddick lifted his head. "Maneem?"

"The Warden sends word and warning," murmured Selm. The shell of the Control brain cracked, shifting apart to reveal an empty cavity inside, and a seat covered in dust. "She must come back into darkness, or the planet burns."

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Note: Guest artist answering some of the Asks over on the Tumblr!