Note: Yes, this is the story formerly known as Obeindu. However a plot point that needed addressing came up, which absolutely decided the fact that this arc needs to be two separate fanfictions. It's just too complicated and long to fit in one (at least for my fanfictions, which run between 20 and 30 chapters). Therefore, as the "theme word" of teamwork no longer fits what will essentially be the first half of this arc, the name has been changed to Scarazial, a more fitting term for this arc.

…

He's wrong. He's so wrong.

Dib stared at the computer screen in his room, as he'd been doing for the last several hours. A quick peek downstairs had assured him that Gaz wasn't harming Zim. The two seemed deeply engaged in some video game or another, a smart move on Zim's part. But as he continued to sit in his room, he couldn't shake the thoughts that kept returning.

He shouldn't have sent Mom.

Dimly, he could recall some sort of discussion with Zim that morning, and his jaw was still sore from the alien's punch, but the details were hazy. He couldn't remember the points Zim had made, or why he'd stopped being upset with Spaceboy. Nothing had been resolved, after all, his Mom was still aboard the Massive, under Red's thumb.

It's all his fault.

Something rustled outside his window, breaking through his thoughts. Keeping his body still and pointed toward the computer, he angled his right arm so the palm faced toward the window, and stared at the reflection off the computer screen. He wasn't interested in a late night assault.

His window flew open and a black form darted in. His palm glowed, firing a split second too late. He heard it coming up behind him, and whirled around, slamming his still-glowing palm against the person's head.

His attacker barely flinched, the muzzle of a blaster resting against Dib's temple. Dib's eyes flicked to the blaster, lighting with recognition. "Mikko! What were you thinking?" He pushed her back, irritated. "I could have killed you, I wasn't set for stun!"

"Isn't that part of improving in training?" Mikko pulled her hood back, tucking the blaster away. "Setting the bar higher, raising the stakes?"

"Yeah, but not getting yourself killed is kind of important! Especially by me! Who knows what Zim would do if he found out!"

"Well you weren't answering any texts or calls for further training either, how else was I gonna get ahold of you?" She glared. "Had to find out what all the ruckus was from Zim and TV, not one word from you."

Dib turned back to his computer. "I've been busy."

"Too busy to explain your text?"

He grimaced. His chair spun toward her as she kicked the side of it. She folded her arms, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. "Go on. Start explaining."

"What's there to explain?" He mumbled, keeping his eyes down. "I thought it explained itself."

" 'I think you're pretty' leaves a lot of questions open!" She protested.

A dull throbbing began behind Dib's eyes. He pulled off his glasses, rubbing them tiredly. "Yeah, so it does, but I haven't had time to figure out answers to those questions with Zim being the stupid idiot that he is right now."

Mikko blinked. "Why, what's he doing?"

"Nothing." Dib shoved his glasses back on. "Nothing, just… being Zim."

She eyed him sharply. "When you figure out those answers, you'll tell me?"

"What was the question again?" Dib mumbled.

"I didn't say, but implied is 'What now?' "

"I'll get back to you on that." Dib pinched the bridge of his nose. The throbbing was getting worse. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah. How fast can you get to the park?"

"The park?" He glanced up to see her by the window.

"Cause our training session is in fifteen minutes, don't be late."

"Wait!" He bolted up, but she was through the window and down the tree already. Groaning, he slipped through after her. Maybe some sparring would clear up the headache.

…

Tunaghost sifted through confiscated Swollen Eyeball data from the comfort of her apartment. She'd been granted access to the files fairly easily, but working as an aide to Tallest Red had its perks. Anyone who had the ear of the highest ranking Irken got what they wanted at this point.

And she wanted to know what happened to DarkBooty.

She had never worked much with him, but she'd heard people talking about him as she passed him in the halls. And the phrase she'd heard most, even in her earlier years at the Eyeball, had been, "He's so different now…"

Scanning through clips and memos and video files, she could see it. He'd come to the Eyeball in his early thirties, determined to prove aliens existed. He'd just been hired at Nasa as a janitor. His IQ should have landed him a higher ranking job, but he preferred to work behind the scenes, unseen. Nobody would suspect a janitor, he boasted. And nobody did. He single-handedly gathered enough intel from cleaning Nasa's floors and keeping an eye on their unused equipment, that he maintained funding for the alien studies wing for two decades.

Then, things began to change. Actual alien test subjects began coming into the Eyeball. Civilians were brought in who never left. DarkBooty began to get a harder expression in the photos taken of him, his eyes shifting back and forth as if he were being watched. Experimentation on the alien test subjects, initially benign, became brutal and bloodthirsty—surgical with almost no rhyme or reason. Aliens whose organs had already been mapped out due to their predecessors in the laboratory suffered the exact same fate, re-opened again and again.

And then Zim. Twice, Booty had laid him open, but it made no sense. On the wall behind him was a large-scale poster illustrating an Irken's internal organs—of which there were two. Yet Booty seemed to take a sadistic joy in making him scream.

What happened?

She hovered over one file, opening it. A hallway camera, capturing footage of Zim's escape. Dib lay collapsed in the hall, shot and in shock. DarkBooty ordering open fire on Zim and Dib. Zim, extending whatever half-destroyed tools were left in his PAK in an attempt to look threatening, standing over Dib in defense.

She paused on that image, staring at it. Not all scars there were from the Eyeball. Most, it seemed, he had gotten through harsh training. It really was a marvel, given everything he said and everything those who knew him could relate to her, that he continued to find the will to fight on. And beyond that, to find something precious enough to fight for. So many would have turned dark, destroying everything around them, but Zim continued reaching through the darkness until he found what he needed.

The fact that DarkBooty was unable to grasp that this alien was no threat to humanity, as head of the alien department, was both disturbing and no longer believable. Something had happened to Booty, and it was about time she found out what.

She glanced at the screen again. She wasn't the only one who should find out. If anyone deserved answers from DarkBooty it was Zim. Scooping up her cell, she flipped through numbers to dial her connections. She needed a visitation room in the local prison block.

…

Note: Just for the record… If you're not following the askresilientzim tumblr, sometimes I post up side chapters that don't appear here, little snippets of background that just don't fit with the main fanfiction. For example, somewhere in the history you will find a training scene between Dib and Mikko that shows how she's improving. It may seem a bit sudden here, but there's more background and things going on in the Ask that add another dimension to everything. This fic has become a multimedia presentation…