They stood before a large door at the end of a darkened grand hallway. Dib couldn't see the end of the hall. It just receded farther and farther, darker and darker. Zim checked his surroundings, fortunately finding no one else there with them, and then looked up at the tall doors in front of them. Dib turned back and looked at Zim, whose head was dipped down as his hand wrapped around the gun he was holding, a finger resting upon the trigger. He lifted his head back up and glanced at Dib, at his side. Dib was holding the gun he had just earlier used to shoot the soldier that nearly killed Zim. Those two were about all that they had left from the massive supply they had originally brought, on behalf of Zim's work.
Zim sort of flinched suddenly, and he turned to Minimoose and GIR. Looking down the hall, then back at the oblivious-looking Minimoose and unfocused GIR, he nearly whispered, "You two stay here. Don't follow us and don't go anywhere. Okay?"
From the look on his face, Dib could tell he was serious. It made sense, though. They were about to go and, at best, go ahead with a political assassination, and at absolute worst, get shot to death; Zim wanted to protect these two, so there was no reason to send them beyond these doors and into a potential gunfight. And with a somewhat squealing nod from GIR and a cute squeak from Minimoose, Zim subtly nodded. He stepped in front of the door, and Dib took a step, at his side.
Zim looked over his shoulder and quietly added, "And yell for help if you see any soldiers, okay?" Minimoose squeaked. Dib didn't think they could yell, but perhaps the message got across anyway, because Zim turned back and got ready to burst through the doors, into the bridge. The two exchanged one last look of nervous tenacity, having come this far, and sustaining such violence and conflict, about to complete the mission. And yet, so close to such danger. With the quick tap of a button by the door, it shot open.
The two burst onto the scene, guns up and at alert. And immediately, they noticed the room was seemingly devoid of any life. Bad sign. As they inched farther into the room, seeing past terminals and desperately searching for the Tallest, it was utterly silent. Not even the sound of machinery. Even their steps seemed to be quieter. Dib's tense, controlled breathing could be heard by the both of them. The door shut on its own behind them. Zim was about to turn and look at the noise. And suddenly, the two were grabbed from behind. Commotion, and fluttering and struggle echoed through the room. Zim's gun flew out of his hand, sliding with a scrape across the ground. Dib was bent over and his arms held behind him, gun still in hand. Zim loudly struggled, in vain, against the captors; Dib less loudly.
Zim was nearly growling, spitting and yelling as he was lifted back onto his feet by the several guards holding his arms and his torso and his head. His legs kicked back and missed the soldiers. Dib's gun was wrestled out of his hand and held by a guard. His arms were held together behind his back by only a single guard, with another at the ready, nearly flanking Dib.
Zim continued to struggle, but less fruitlessly with every passing second. Dib hadn't given in, but could clearly see how little resistance accomplished, and didn't waste his energy. Within thirty or forty seconds, the two, who had utterly embarrassed the Irken military, and had raided the most military prestigious ship in the whole universe, were brought to their knees— without morale and without a chance to resist. Zim couldn't help, as he wriggled in the guards' grasp, that he should've planned for this— should have expected another ambush. But he didn't. And now he would face the dire consequences. Fatal, most likely.
Dib turned to Zim, who returned to look as he struggled. The two both, despite their differing responses, had looks of complete panic and hopelessness upon their countenances.
And indeed, from out of their view, or perhaps having entered as they struggled, appeared the Tallest. The two approached. Red had a nauseatingly smug, repugnant smirk on his face as he looked down on the declawed Zim. The two walked side by side, with Red slightly ahead. His, as human Dib would confidently describe, shit-eating grin, failed to falter as he turned to face Dib. However, with a confident command, he had the guard holding Dib release him. It wasn't gentle, and he was nearly forced off of his feet, but he was indeed let go. The two guards stood at his sides; their very presence sending the message that, despite them physically releasing him, he was not leaving. Dib's gun was brandished in the left hand of the soldier at his right, finger on the trigger, grip tight.
A couple of meters away, Zim looked on as Red got down and leaned in close to Dib. His right hand went to Dib's chin, which forced his head to the side as Red studied him. Then, standing again, Red simply said, staring at Dib, "These are the Earthlings you told us about. Very interesting."
Red walked exactly perpendicular to the two captives, in Zim's general direction. A guard reached down and grabbed the gun that had been flung from Zim's hand, and he handed it to Red. Red took it by the grip and stood in front of Zim. He examined it in his hand, turning it around. "Did you build this yourself, Zim?" He spoke softly, nearly cryptically directly.
"Yeah. And you're holding it wrong," Zim spit.
"Oh, am I?" He stepped closer.
"The barrel's supposed to be between your eyes."
Red's blank expression relapsed back to a disgusting smirk. "Hm, rude." He turned and took a step away. Then, spinning around he transferred the energy into a kick directly into Zim's middle. While Zim doubled over and felt like spitting up blood, he wondered how long the Tallest could do something like that; kicking like that. Dib's eyes widened with shock and awe.
Purple stood back quite a bit, watching on with a barely visible smile as he watched Red. He didn't want to interfere; Red had told him how much he wanted to go ahead with the drama and the theatrics. Purple, to be fair, enjoyed it, too. Red was good at over-the-top theatrics.
Zim's head was ducked down as gasped for air, it all having been knocked out of him. Red sternly and with authority demanded, "Look at me."
Zim lifted his head up with effort, struggling, and failing, to maintain a composed expression. Red was, as Dib would also describe, pissed. Maintaining a tone of voice nearly exclusively reserved for completely furious parents trying to sound calm, he implored, "Care to tell me what you were planning to do here? With these guns? With this Earth creature?"
"Human," Zim corrected.
Red didn't take any of that. With Zim's gun, he shot at the floor, right between Zim's feet. Zim nearly jumped. "What were you planning to do?" He was more demanding than yelling.
"Shoot you. And your smeetheart over there."
Red laughed in a way that, despite the nearly collected composure, sounded viscerally angry. "Being smart with me, despite how uncharacteristic of you it is, isn't going to get you out of this one, Zim."
"Out of what?"
"Out of the simple fact," Red got down in front of Zim and held up his head with his free hand, his fingers resting below Zim's chin, forcing his gaze to meet Red's, "that you failed." His countenance was marked by the return of the smile. "You tried to kill us, and we're still alive. But soon, you won't be." He laughed, grimly. "You fail—"
Zim kicked and uppercut Red with his foot. And with a swift motion, he fell out of the guards' grasp and sprung back up onto his feet as Red recoiled. He reached into his PAK and retrieved his last gun and he sprinted towards Dib, beginning to aim.
