Very Short, Very Awkward
No, I don't own Invader Zim.
Chaz sat nervously on the edge of the maroon couch, one fist grasping a BrainFreezy and the other leaving scratches in the upholstery. //I can really think of other things I'd rather be doing now, // she thought to herself. //And sitting in Red's private quarters and telling jokes isn't one of those things. //
"And then, his SIR falls onto his head and he crumples, in horrible, gut wrenching pain!! An he's still trying to tell us what his latest failure is supposed to do!! Something about a change in the weather pattern...anyway, it was great."
"He sounds, eh, interesting," Chaz offered nervously.
"It's almost scary, the amount of damage he wrecks, and then doesn't even die or anything...."
Purple sucked thoughtfully on his Icy Ham freezy. ((A/N: It's actually a flavor!)) "Too bad..."
Chaz snapped alert. "What do you mean, sir?" she asked carefully.
"Red waved one claw dismissively. "Call us by our names. He means that it's too bad Zim doesn't just go and get himself blown up; he's a useless soldier."
Purple cocked an eye at Chaz speculatively. "Weren't you on ship when we packed him off? It was only a little while ago."
Chaz bowed her head. "No, my Tallest, I was undergoing a crucial part of my training, and was not in contact with the outside world."
"But it was all over the Massive!" protested Pur.
"Yeah," interrupted Red, "But most Specialists have to do a sort of...thing...for their training. It's like a virtual reality quest, of sorts, to hone their fighting skills. They spend days wandering around whatever ship they're on, only they think they're on a different world. It's a crime to interfere with them while they're in that state."
Chaz regarded her Tallest with interest. "How is it you have come to know so much about the Specialists, without actually being one, sir?"
Red poked at a basket of curly fries. "Red. Call me Red. Fal wanted me to become a Specialist. He has rank with the Control Brain, and beside, Masters are permitted to make suggestions for placement. He was thrilled when we became the Tallest, be he had high hopes for me as a Weapons Master." There was a bit of an awkward silence as Red poked at his fries, and Chaz fidgeted in her chair.
Suddenly the Red sat up straight in his seat. "Hey! Why don't you give us that presentation now?" He looked hopefully at Chaz, who seemed to be having a heart attack.
"Now, si--Red? But I'd need to get my things; I have to get my Darontu, and the whole ceremonial outfit, and--and--and a V.T.S. helmet!"
Red leaned over to the walls console and pressed a button. "Fet, get me the head of the Specialist Equipment, Weapons." He turned back to Chaz and flashed a grin. "And you can send your SIR for the rest!"
Chaz's antennae lowered in defeat. Damn, she thought miserably. Damn damn damn. Numbly she called to Kex on her I.U.P.
"Kex, get the garb and the Darontu and bring them to Tallest Red's quarters. Out." She turned and glared at Red, who conveniently didn't notice.
"You'll want to warm up, I'm sure," he said, standing up and stretching. He hovered over to a small desk and pulled out a slim card, and handed it to Chaz. "This is the key to a dressing room. Just come out when you're done, and we'll get this train wreck moving!"
Chaz considered locking herself in.
Hey! Not bad for a sleep-deprived Irkan suffering from the effects of a booby-trapped sun! Chapter Three, whoop-dee-dee, ready to move on to the inevitable oblivion of sleep...wait, that doesn't rhyme with 'three' and 'dee.' La di frickin' da. I don't like poem fics that much anyways. Whatever. Please review!! ^_^
No, I don't own Invader Zim.
Chaz sat nervously on the edge of the maroon couch, one fist grasping a BrainFreezy and the other leaving scratches in the upholstery. //I can really think of other things I'd rather be doing now, // she thought to herself. //And sitting in Red's private quarters and telling jokes isn't one of those things. //
"And then, his SIR falls onto his head and he crumples, in horrible, gut wrenching pain!! An he's still trying to tell us what his latest failure is supposed to do!! Something about a change in the weather pattern...anyway, it was great."
"He sounds, eh, interesting," Chaz offered nervously.
"It's almost scary, the amount of damage he wrecks, and then doesn't even die or anything...."
Purple sucked thoughtfully on his Icy Ham freezy. ((A/N: It's actually a flavor!)) "Too bad..."
Chaz snapped alert. "What do you mean, sir?" she asked carefully.
"Red waved one claw dismissively. "Call us by our names. He means that it's too bad Zim doesn't just go and get himself blown up; he's a useless soldier."
Purple cocked an eye at Chaz speculatively. "Weren't you on ship when we packed him off? It was only a little while ago."
Chaz bowed her head. "No, my Tallest, I was undergoing a crucial part of my training, and was not in contact with the outside world."
"But it was all over the Massive!" protested Pur.
"Yeah," interrupted Red, "But most Specialists have to do a sort of...thing...for their training. It's like a virtual reality quest, of sorts, to hone their fighting skills. They spend days wandering around whatever ship they're on, only they think they're on a different world. It's a crime to interfere with them while they're in that state."
Chaz regarded her Tallest with interest. "How is it you have come to know so much about the Specialists, without actually being one, sir?"
Red poked at a basket of curly fries. "Red. Call me Red. Fal wanted me to become a Specialist. He has rank with the Control Brain, and beside, Masters are permitted to make suggestions for placement. He was thrilled when we became the Tallest, be he had high hopes for me as a Weapons Master." There was a bit of an awkward silence as Red poked at his fries, and Chaz fidgeted in her chair.
Suddenly the Red sat up straight in his seat. "Hey! Why don't you give us that presentation now?" He looked hopefully at Chaz, who seemed to be having a heart attack.
"Now, si--Red? But I'd need to get my things; I have to get my Darontu, and the whole ceremonial outfit, and--and--and a V.T.S. helmet!"
Red leaned over to the walls console and pressed a button. "Fet, get me the head of the Specialist Equipment, Weapons." He turned back to Chaz and flashed a grin. "And you can send your SIR for the rest!"
Chaz's antennae lowered in defeat. Damn, she thought miserably. Damn damn damn. Numbly she called to Kex on her I.U.P.
"Kex, get the garb and the Darontu and bring them to Tallest Red's quarters. Out." She turned and glared at Red, who conveniently didn't notice.
"You'll want to warm up, I'm sure," he said, standing up and stretching. He hovered over to a small desk and pulled out a slim card, and handed it to Chaz. "This is the key to a dressing room. Just come out when you're done, and we'll get this train wreck moving!"
Chaz considered locking herself in.
Hey! Not bad for a sleep-deprived Irkan suffering from the effects of a booby-trapped sun! Chapter Three, whoop-dee-dee, ready to move on to the inevitable oblivion of sleep...wait, that doesn't rhyme with 'three' and 'dee.' La di frickin' da. I don't like poem fics that much anyways. Whatever. Please review!! ^_^