WARNING: Violence, Blood, Character Death. I do not own Invader Zim
"Shut up. You're lying." Gaz laughs as she leans back against the log at the campsite, her face illuminated only by the dying fire and a sky full of stars. She sits in a cross legged position, wearing loose shorts and an old t-shirt that she wears to bed.
"I am not! Irk does have this... fly horse you speak of." Zim pulls a leg up to rest his arm on as he tosses another small log into the fire. Gaz shoots him a look and playfully nudges his arm.
"No you don't. Look me in the eyes with a straight face and tell me that again." Zim turns, with a deadly serious look on his face.
"Irk has..." And as soon as he starts speaking a large smile cracks on his face. He turns away quickly in an attempt to hide it as Gaz bursts out laughing.
"Ha! Liar! I knew that was too good to be true. Come on, I know it's hard for you, but tell me something serious about Irk." Gaz says, lowering her voice in an almost pleading manner.
"Okay..." Zim turns his face to the sky, reclining against the log. "Irk has uh, three... moon, that's the word, and one of the three circle the big one." He gestures with his hands as he speaks, trying to fill in the gaps of his poor languages skills for Gaz.
"What are they called?"
"Iʻaímú, Aor, and-" He pauses, his antennae snap up and towards the left side of his body.
Gaz leans forward, squinting into the darkness.
"What is it?" She whispers. As soon as she speaks Zim's hand shoots out and covers her mouth. Gaz's immediate reaction is to bite his hand in annoyance, but the worried look Zim has stops her. She needs to be silent. She nods her understanding and the hand gently pulls back, as Zim reaches into his pak to grab his gun.
They sit, in silence, waiting. Gaz strains as hard as she can to hear something, anything, but there's nothing. Snap. Crack. Rustle. Normally these noises mean nothing in the middle of the woods, but Zim and Gaz recognize the danger. The slow, carefulness of the footsteps. A person, multiple people, are approaching. Zim carefully stands up, gesturing towards Gaz to stay down, but of course that doesn't work. She stands up with Zim, and prepares for whatever's coming.
Slowly, the first of the figures steps out of the darkness. It's short, and the metal box and tubes on it's chest glint from the fire. Flames reflect in the small Irken gun it's holding, and Zim recognizes what they are all too easily. Irken elite. And if there's one, there's bound to be more. Not willing to waste a second more, Zim lifts his gun and fires, hitting the elite square in the head.
In the split second afterwards, dozens more elite burst from the treeline with guns and spears ready for the fight. Gaz's hands clench into fists as she ready's herself for a fight she is certain she is outnumbered in. She presses her back against Zim's comforted by the small amount of safety knowing she won't have to worry about her blind spots. In one swift motion she leans down and grabs one of the spare logs, and hurls it at an elite charging at her. The log hits the elite in the skull with a sickening crunch, dark green blood flowing from the new cut on his skull. But even as he goes down, Gaz knows there are more to come.
Zim fires and fires, feeling like he's hitting all of his targets, but that they just keep coming in a never ending flow of his worst nightmare. It's like the whole armada was sent, and he knows he will never win. A piercing pain enters his right thigh, and a pak leg shoots out to support him as his leg buckles beneath him. He can feel the warm blood trickle down his leg, the fabric of his sweatpants burning against the injury in his thigh. He grits his teeth and continues to fire, careful to only execute minimal evasive techniques, knowing Gaz is right behind him. That one wrong move could be a laser blast into her body. The campsite is littered with weapons and bodies of Irken elites, the smoke from the burning tissue in their skulls rising into the air with the smoke from the campfire.
"Ah!" Zim shouts, another pain in his shoulder, as a laser blasts through, ripping his shoulder apart as it does. His left arm goes numb, and he quickly grabs his gun from his useless left hand and continues to fight. Continues to fire. For Gaz.
Gaz. Gaz was pressing up against him a minute ago, wasn't she? Zim's blood turns cold, and as he takes the step to turn, a shock runs through his whole body. He falls, limp, to the ground, his gun skidding into the flames of the campfire. The forest floor is wet, probably with his blood, and he struggles to see. Lying on his left side, and oh his shoulder burns and he can't hear Gaz fighting where is she. Footsteps approach, and the cold barrel of pistol presses against his skull.
Zim struggles to clear his mind, what happened. He opens his eyes, and tries to focus on what's in front of him. His vision is so blurry, the orange dancing of the fire causes him to wince. The Irken standing above him is saying something, but Zim's not listening. He can't listen. The voice is muddled, and hard to make out.
"Probably because of the electric shock delivered to your pak." The clear part of his brain says.
"Hey! I'm talking to you!" The irken shouts, digging his gun harder into the side of Zim's head, but he can't respond, because his vision has cleared.
Inches from his face, is Gaz's face. Her eyes are open, looking right into his and yet staring past into nothingness. Blood seeps from her mouth and onto the forest floor, and Zim realizes with horror that it is not his blood that has wet the ground he helplessly lies on. Her face is paler than she normally is, her long hair drenched in places from the dark red blood seeping from the laserhole in her head. The fire dances in the pool that surrounds them, and Zim gasps for air as he reaches forward, desperately trying to touch her face. The irken behind him kicks him sharply in his back. Zim lurches over, lying on his stomach, and he can't breathe. He's face first in the thick, dark blood, and he's inhaling it, drowning in it... it's like he's in a sea of blood. He struggles to lift himself with his right hand, slipping in the slick mud of the forest floor, and distantly he can hear the charging of a laser rifle. He turns his head, seeing Gaz's lifeless face.
"Zim." Her disembodied voice echoes all around him, and the blood is flowing from her mouth, her eyes are open, and he can't breathe and the gun pressed against his head is charging and-
"Zim! Zim wake up!" His eyes snap open and he shoots upwards. He takes note of his surroundings, Gaz is sitting to his left, Gir is sitting on his leg, and Dib's horrified face peers in from outside the tent door where he's kneeling. He gasps for air, feeling like he can't get enough as his brain catches up with his eyes. He looks to Gaz, her face mercifully clear of blood, and he realizes he's crying.
"What-" He whispers, raising a shaking hand to wipe the tears from his face. He can't even focus enough to be angry that Dib is seeing this.
"You were having a nightmare, Zim. Oh my god, are you okay?" Gaz whispers. He nods, and tries to speak, finding his voice hoarse.
"A nightmare? Are you okay?" He gasps. She nods.
"Yeah, I'm fine Zim. Do you want to talk about it?" He glances at Dib, who swallows guiltily and avoids eye contact.
"You were screaming a lot..." She mumbles.
"No... It's okay." Zim says. "I'm okay."