Hello all.
Sorry for the fright in not updating on precisely the first, but I left the state March 31st and didn't come back till literally half an hour ago. I don't normally bring my computer on trips, and this was no exception, so this is the first opportunity I got to update. Hope I didn't scare you!
Enjoy.
CH. 11
Dib was half awake, and convinced Zim had poisoned him.
He hadn't been so utterly exhausted in ages. He'd been up all night, updating the Swollen Eyeball's New York division about the potential threat, and to be on the lookout for suspicious activity (and to ignore the suspicious activity involving 2 teens, and adult, and an alien). None of the names on Tak's list had proven to be a member of the Swollen Eyeball—he'd posted it on the website, just in case—but if she caught wind of investigations aimed her way, she'd no doubt be willing to add a few casualties to her growing list of murders.
It was so surreal to Dib, to continuously superimpose the girl he'd been friends with in middle school, even for a short while, with the alien threat capable of committing heinous crimes. Dib hadn't been able to access the case files—although a few members of the SE were reaching out to their contacts to try and get them—but he'd seen the news reports, and had researched them extensively once he'd finished packing. Tak was positively vicious. He couldn't imagine what had to go through a person's head to be able to do such things to another human being. Dib felt queasy just thinking about it.
It wasn't helping that he was constantly staring into the blinding screen that was his phone. At the sight of one of the first serious threats the SE had seen in ages, the members were all itching for information. Members both familiar and otherwise were going crazy on his forum's board, asking for further details and updates. Some were even talking about moving to New York for a short period of time to assist, but Dib wasn't sure how he felt about that. To be realistic, he'd never met any of the members face-to-face, and he wasn't sure how he felt about hanging around with potentially deranged strangers. Which brought his attention to their pseudo-babysitter dozing in the passenger seat, occasionally rising to chat with their driver before falling back asleep.
Dwicky had changed in far more ways than just appearance, that much was obvious. He'd come back older, harder, bigger, and to be fair, Dib hadn't known him that well to begin with. He'd been his counselor all of a few days before disappearing into space. He was a good listener. And also a dick for stealing his camera. That was pretty much the extent of his profile. But, Gaz seemed alright with it, and she had a knack for judging people, so Dib was willing to allow it. Besides, Dwicky wasn't even the biggest threat of the hour, let alone the biggest threat in their car.
Which brought him to Zim, who was enamored with his own device that seemed to connect directly to the mainframe of his house. Whenever Dib was able to lean forward enough to steal a glance, he caught sight of Irken text and what appeared to be a control panel regarding two lifeforms, if the heart-monitor-like readings were any indication. Presumably, the Plookesians. Dib didn't get good looks, since Zim was quick to shove him away and hunch further over his device, but it didn't take a genius to put two-and-two together. Dwicky and Zim had returned early in the morning with medium-sized innocuous metal crates, as promised. Dib had been itching to crack one open and look at it, but a severe look from Gaz—far more effective than Zim's hissing and threats—had deterred him. Now, even his burning curiosity was no match for his exhaustion, or his headache, for that matter.
To make things worse, he was refusing to sleep, which Gaz was doing in the backseat beside him. She'd dozed off minutes into the trip, using her jacket as a pillow. Dib was envious. But he couldn't sleep, not when he might be poisoned.
Before they'd left the house, Zim had been sitting on the couch, fiddling with his device. Dib had briefly left the room, leaving Zim alone with his soda. It'd been subtle enough that Dib hadn't thought twice about it. He'd had to drag his luggage down, and Gaz sure as hell wasn't going to do it for him. When he'd come back, Zim was right where he had been, fiddling away, and Dib had sat down for a drink. He was two sips in when he stilled, realizing his grave error. Zim had ignored his accusing stares, but Dib well remembered the incident with the tiny robot in his peas that had tried to kill Dib by tampering with his organs. Still, it was too late. He'd sipped his uncared for soda. So now he was adamant he stay awake, regardless of his body's needs. He couldn't let his guard down around Zim, not for a moment. Gaz was asleep, and his trust in Dwicky was still firmly set in cautious-mode. He had to do this himself.
Also, if he woke Gaz for anything less than an emergency, she'd probably end him. And then who would stop Tak?
Another vibration on his phone regained his minimal attention. Shockingly, it had nothing to do with the present emergency, listed as a response on a forum he'd nearly forgotten about.
Right. The psychic. He'd nearly forgotten that visit. It'd seemed like forever ago. He'd never written up his full report, or at least, he hadn't answered some of the more detailed questions. It was a small relief to not have to decline another in-person meet-up.
That psychic still gave him the shivers. She was so genuinely pleasant and uncannily accurate. Ugh.
Dib sent the reply off with a recommendation of a thorough interview. The next thing he knew, Zim was barking at him to wake up.
Bleary eyed, Dib found himself surrounded by city. Gaz was stretching in her seat beside him, apparently more rested than she'd been at the start of the trip. Her mood had shifted from Obliterate Everything to her usual short temper. Small victories.
Dib followed his new team out of the car, and found himself in front of a massive, immaculate building of one-way glass and sleek steel. He felt very small standing beside it, and turned to the movers to distract himself.
"We're on the Penthouse Floor," Gaz was telling them, or rather, telling Dwicky. The former counselor had been instructed to assume the role of the adult in this situation, even if he was just the hired help, and he seemed to be taking his duties gracefully, for now. Dib anticipated a butting of heads in the future, but he pushed that aside for now. He had enough problems in the present. He didn't need to worry about the ones in the future, too.
A sleek woman in a business suit molded herself between the movers and walked directly to Gaz, much to Dib's surprise. But at the sight of her nametag, he rolled his eyes.
A Membrane worker. One of Dad's. She had a digital clipboard, where she briefly discussed something before handing over what appeared to be the keys to their suite. Gaz dismissed her with a grunt, and she disappeared as though she already had another assignment in mind.
"What are Membrane Corp's people doing here?" Dib asked Gaz, falling into step with her. The movers were monopolizing one of the many elevators, and one of the elevator's doormen—who had the sense to recognize VIP's when he saw them—was holding the door for them. Zim seemed torn between following and keeping an eye on his equipment, but ultimately left the duty to Dwicky. He ignored the looks of curiosity and ignored them as they shared the elevator to their room.
"I borrowed one of Dad's secretaries to arrange our check-in," Gaz explained, fighting a yawn. Apparently she wasn't quite as rested as Dib had previously believed. "Makes things easier when they're expecting VIP's. I figured there'd be less fuss about all the luggage."
The door dinged, taking them directly to their room.
Dib took a moment to blink at the luxury, stepping out nervously. The suite was so impressive as to be intimidating, as if ready to tell the less wealthy that they were privileged to be here. It was two stories, opening into a full kitchen and living room, which held a spiral staircase to a loft area. The full-length windows showed a balcony with a sauna and patio area, as well as a pool which Zim shivered at.
"Wow," Dib remarked.
Gaz simply grunted, "3 of the bedrooms are upstairs. There's 3 more downstairs, meaning we each get one. We can use the other two for storage."
She headed to the kitchen, opening a few cabinets. They were fully stocked.
"Dad's people?" He asked.
She nodded. "I had them stock everything, including the bathrooms. Two upstairs and two downstairs, all full bath." She eyed where Zim stood, edging against the walls, his eyes never leaving the windows. "I guess we'll have an extra one."
Zim shook off his wariness, peering into the closest bedroom. "This shall suffice for a storage area. We can organize the weapons at a later time." He turned about, peering into the one further down the hall, "Zim shall take the room closest to the weapons!"
Dib really didn't like the sound of that. But still, if something blew up, better Zim be closer than he or Gaz. Reluctantly, he let it go.
That left them to the upper bedrooms. Dib wouldn't have minded either way if he and Gaz were sharing a room, but still, it was nice to have their own space. He made his way up the spiral staircase while Gaz sat on the couch, texting away, to find his own room.
It was a photo-copy of Zim's and their storage room: queen-sized bed, one large dresser with a mirror above it, a reasonably-sized closet, and two end-tables with storage installed in them. This one had a bathroom attached, with it leading straight into the second upper-floor bedroom. Exploration of the third upper-floor bedroom showed it and its attached bathroom were separated from the other two. He figured he and Gaz would share the connecting one, going downstairs to tell her as much.
She shrugged, never looking up, "Fine."
He sat down next to her, peering over the back of the couch. The movers had finally made their way up and were being directed by Zim on where to store what. The crates all went into the first bedroom. Everything else was dumped in the living room to be sorted out later. Most of it was Gaz and Dib's, as Dwicky had very little luggage, just enough to fill two suitcases.
At the sight of the older man's suitcases, Gaz made a face and began texting with renewed vigor.
"Watcha doin?" Dib asked.
"Arranging for Dwicky to get more clothes delivered," Gaz replied. "The stuff he's wearing now is passable, barely, but I noticed he didn't change this morning. He probably doesn't have anything else that looks like it's from this planet."
Oh. Huh. Dib hadn't thought of that.
"Don't you need his measurements?"
"That secretary from earlier already got them." Gaz replied. "I told her which one was Dwicky, and she's out getting them now."
Dib was stunned. "But she didn't even talk to him to ask him his measurements."
"You know how they are," Gaz said.
"Creepily efficient," both children said in unison. They even shivered at the same time, if only briefly.
By the time Dwicky made his way upstairs, all the boxes had been moved. Gaz carelessly dismissed their helpers while Dwicky and Dib made a point to thank them all. When the door swung shut on their new, temporary living space, the air seemed to rush from the room, leaving Dib suddenly exhausted.
Dwicky, meanwhile, whistled low as he took the suite in. "Damn. Nice choice, kids."
Gaz ignored him, so Dib took it upon himself to settle the living arrangements. "Theres 3 bedrooms upstairs. Gaz and I will take the interconnecting ones, so yours is at the far end of the hall."
He shrugged, finding a large knapsack in the mess of luggage—his only bag of personal equipment he hadn't had shipped in the containers—and turned to head upstairs. "Sounds good to me," he called over his shoulders.
"Be back in a few minutes," Gaz abruptly called out. "We've got mapping to do."
As it turned out, they hadn't gotten anything done on the ride over, all of them too exhausted or, in Zim's case, preoccupied to address their Tak issue. Gaz's feet were swinging why she texted away in the guise of an eerily efficient secretary.
"Delivery," said a voice, startling Dib. Wow, he really needed to get used to the idea that the elevator entered directly to their suite.
Gaz snapped a finger at Dib, his sign to get up. He sighed, reluctantly hauling himself up as a cheerful, uniformed woman handed over several tubes.
"Er, thanks," he replied.
She simply smiled before leaving as quickly as she came.
"What're these?" He asked Gaz, plopping down onto the sofa while juggling the large tubes.
"Maps," she replied, finally putting down her phone. She dumped the tubes, revealing large, laminated copies of various cities. Small, markered labels showed them all to align with the cities their targets resided in.
Geez, Gaz really had thought of everything.
She spread the one that held the label of their current location, producing an Expo Marker from seemingly nowhere and marking their hotel in a green rectangle. She continued to refer to her phone while making large red X's on various places on the map.
"These are warehouses that haven't been leased in the immediate area," she explained. Dib saw Zim wander into the room from the corner of his eye and shoved down his hostile instincts. Truce aside, Zim had still tackled his sister, and threatened her. They weren't friends, and Dib would be sure to lock his door tonight and make sure Gaz locked hers as well.
"Mm," Zim hummed, sitting on the floor to be closer to the coffee table and, thus, the maps. "I have pin-pointed her last hideout to be a used storage block for the fair. It's possible she could burrow into a used one, as well."
"For now, I think it's safe to assume she has no concrete hideout." Dib pointed out, "She only escaped like, a day ago."
"Point," Gaz agreed, briefly ticking the pen in his direction before continuing her markings. "Still, it's better to be prepared. If possible, we can monitor these warehouses for strange activity before she nests in one. Which brings me to another point," she finally put her pen down, addressing the two present with narrowed eyes. "How do we plan on monitoring the people on this list?"
"Zim is more than capable of bugging their homes and vehicles," Zim announced, leaning back on his palms. "The House can monitor for signs of violent activity."
"Some of these were car crashes," Dib pointed out. "What if we don't get there in time?"
Zim, now sans disguise, perked an antennae in obvious befuddlement. "Eh?"
"We have to protect these people," he stated, firmly.
"Do we?" Gaz began. When Dib shot her a look of horror, she held up her hands placatingly. "Don't get me wrong, Dib. I get it. I'm not a fan of senseless violence and death either, but we have to set a priority here. We can catch Tak, or we can protect her future victims."
"Why can't we do both?" Dib asked, weakly.
"We might be able to," she admitted. "But when it comes down to it, we're eventually going to have to pick one. Tak could be escaping while one of the victims is in mortal peril. We're going to have to make the choice between giving chase or saving their life."
Zim snorted, dismissively, "Tak is clearly the priority. If we don't catch her, more people will die, potentially even the Earth. A few human lives cannot possibly compare."
Gaz made a face, as though biting her tongue. Dib appreciated it. Gaz may not see the world with the same hope he did, but she made an effort to understand his views and defend them. Zim was, obviously, the exact opposite of everything he stood for.
But as much as it pained him to admit . . . Zim was right. One human life wasn't anything to disregard, not in the way Zim was. But when held up against the whole of humanity . . . he'd have to pick humanity. These people were strangers, but somebody cared about them. But it couldn't matter. He just . . . couldn't let himself think about it. They'd be careful, and fast, and hopefully settle things before she ever put them in the position to choose like that.
Besides, they had Dwicky. And guns. Things would be fine. They had to be.
"Dib?" Gaz prodded, when he'd been quiet for too long.
He snapped out of it, "Er, right . . . We choose Tak." He acceded, though it was clear to everyone how painful of a choice that was. Gaz squeezed his knee in a small gesture before continuing to mark their map.
Dwicky chose that moment to wander back down the stairs, sans backpack. He glanced briefly at the trio before making his way towards the guest bedroom overflowing with crates. He and Zim hadn't had the chance to sort the weapons aside from "very delicate" and "tossable," so now was a good a time as any to get started. He propped himself on one of the bar stools, beginning to wrap his hands with a form of gauze in preparation for the gloves. It was careful work, and would take a few minutes, and he chose to eavesdrop while he did so.
Gaz exhaled, settling back onto the heels of her hands. She really was exhausted, long nap aside.
"So, what do we do when we catch her?" She asked, turning towards Zim.
He briefly wondered at the light reflecting in her eyes. It was so unnaturally glossy, but he ignored it in favor of the importance of her question.
"We remove her PAK," he said, solemnly.
Dib's intrigue piqued. "What happens when you remove her PAK?"
"She's defenseless," Dwicky answered, startling Dib, whose back had been to the man. Zim glowered at him, but he continued anyways. "An Irkens central intelligence is stored in their PAK. It's like a portable battery, and Irkens are the husks. After 10 minutes without that battery, they die."
"We're gonna kill her?"
"Yes," Zim snarled, towards Dwicky. The man simply shrugged it off. It wasn't the first time he'd been faced with a furious Irken, and this one wasn't even holding him at gunpoint. "It's clear to me that Tak cannot be held, not indefinitely. And she obviously cannot face the Earthian justice system."
"What about the Irken form of justice?" Asked Dib.
Zim snorted, "Death is the Irken form of justice."
Gaz seemed to be eying him with a form of curiosity and disgust, if her pinched expression could be read accurately. "So you're a robot?"
"More an animated corpse," Dwicky supplied, helpfully.
Zim snarled far more audibly. "Watch your loose tongue, lackling. Those are Irken secrets you spout so freely."
Again, Dwicky shrugged, "Know thy enemy."
"You're a corpse?" Dib pressed, looking like he wanted to poke Zim with something.
Zim rolled his eyes, fists balled tightly, but spat out a, "No." He inhaled a deep, ragged breath. "We are flesh and blood, with a single organ, yes. But we do rely on our PAK's for information, weaponry, and life-support. Not as a 'battery,' as the lackling says. In return for this reliance, we are able to communicate on a higher level, comprehending and communicating with technology in an instant without ever needing lessons or training. Zim is no robot, and neither is any other Irken."
Dwicky still seemed unimpressed by his outburst, but wisely chose to hold his tongue.
Gaz grunted out a considerate, "Huh," but otherwise remained uneffected. Even Dib looked satisfied with this brief influx of information, probably pondering ways to use this information against Zim in the future.
"How long do we have till she shuts down without her PAK? Is it instantaneous?" Gaz questioned, breaking the brief, tense silence.
"10 minutes," Dwicky supplied cheerfully, with yet another glare sent his way by their resident Irken. "They get weaker by the minute, too, so around 7 or 8 they stop putting up too big of a fight."
"How do we get it off?" She continued, leaning forward with an intensity that made Zim slightly uncomfortable.
He shoved it down, ignoring his natural wariness towards the female. "PAKs are designed not to detach without the consent of the owner, given the dangers. It's extremely difficult to do so," he added, with a scathing glare Dib's way. "And impossible without prior Irken knowledge of key-codes and coding. Zim must be the one to remove it. The easiest way to incapacitate her, meanwhile, is to restrain or force her into unconsciousness, the latter probably being the simplest. She is very slippery, as you say."
Gaz stretched her arms above her head, arms popping, "Well," she said, "This was awfully enlightening, and barrels of fun, but I need a nap. Can you take care of the bugging, Zim?"
He waved a hand dismissively, "Of course. Zim has already started. Gir is planting some of the devices as we speak."
"Er," Dib made a face. "Are you sure you can trust him to do that . . . correctly?"
"Bugging a home is so simple that not even Gir can mess it up . . . Also," he removed a tablet-looking device from his PAK, where he tapped a power button that seemed to be displaying Live feed. "The house is monitoring him, and will notify me in the case of, eh, mistakes."
"Perfect," Gaz spoke through a yawn. "Then I'm off to a nap. No one bug me unless it's something important," she warned, making her way quickly up the staircase.
Meanwhile, Dwicky had finished wrapping his hands, flexing them a few times to ensure the job had been done right. His competence assured, he slipped on a thick, protective pair of gloves and headed into the weapons room. Zim followed him with his eyes, a disgruntled expression on his face. He looked back to Dib, who seemed to be staring out the window, lost in his own thought.
A defect, masking as an Irken Invader, resorting to this. Help from the natives. Despicable. Shameful. What had he sunk to?
How can you sink, his mind reminded him, when you were never above in the first place?
He thought back on Dwicky's comparison of his anatomy to a corpse. He wasn't a robot. He was Irken, flesh and bone, birthed from an incubator just like every other smeet. That meant something. He was something, someone.
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And he was a joke, too.
Super melancholy note to end on, but I'm nothing if not a sucker for sad stories.
So, with the setting establishing chapters aside, we can move on to character development/relationships! Yay!
For those of you that remember the beginning chapters/the synopsis for this story, it's really about people fighting against love, against feelings and affection. And I think, looking back on it, that it seems like this story is super violent and/or abusive in some way. Now granted, there will 100% be violence, and character deaths (as there already have been), but, I don't know, I'm not sure how to explain it, but I guess what I want to say is, the relationships between or main trio aren't going to get abusive. There'll be a hell of alot of verbal fighting, but also bonding, and promises, and friendship, and some romance too. So don't worry about this story being too dark, because it's not. I guess the best way to describe it is bittersweet.
Anyways, seeya next update!
