Dib yanked his bookbag out of his locker, and slammed it shut. It was the end of a Friday, and all he wanted to do was go home. Taking out a textbook that read "Frustrations in Literature", he zipped up the bag and shouldered it.
The hallways were flooded with the bodies of seventh and eighth graders, forming a raging torrent towards the exit. He sighed, buried his nose in his textbook and plunged into the throng of students, following the crowd to the door. Normally, Zim would be walking next to him, chattering on about the idiocy of he human race or at least flashing a warning glare to any bully or jock that considered them for a source of amusement. But Zim hadn't talked to him since he had left his house a week ago, and Dib hadn't bothered to seek him out. He didn't even look at him in class. True, he'd been a jerk, he admitted to himself as he stared blankly at a chapter of the textbook he wasn't really reading. If he were the only human on a strange planet for a long time and suddenly another human just showed up, he'd be acting the same way. But Dib didn't want to take any chances. Zim showed up three years ago intent on destroying human society. Who was to say that Min wasn't supposed to do the same?
Dib absentmindedly turned the corner in the skool parking lot. Lost in thought and staring at his reading assignment, he wasn't watching where he was going. He only took a couple of steps before he collided with an overloaded blue raspberry freezie, which exploded all over the designer shirt of it's handler: Torgue Smacky, the 200-pound quarterback of the football team. At first preoccupied with his shirt, the jock's overdeveloped muscles twitched in rage as his gaze slowly rose to meet Dib's, eyeing him with the kind of look a predator would flash at it's next meal.
At first speechless with terror, Dib tried to stammer an apology. "I-I'm sorry about that. I--" His words were cut short when the hulk grabbed him by the trenchcoat collar.
"Oh, you're sorry, are ya? Not as sorry as you're gonna be, dweeb..." While up in the air, he noticed two more jocks standing behind him, both with the same kind of look that Torque had. "This shirt cost me 75 bucks, and I'm gonna take every penny outta your ass!" He hissed, violently throwing a stumbling Dib around a corner and following close behind.
The middle skool's layout was a one-story knot of hallways, branching out in odd directions, the thin brick walls forming meandering dead-ends and bare alcoves all though the outside parking lot. These deserted windowless alleys were often used for after-skool fights and daily "lessons" by the more dangerous members of the student body. Dib stumbled around the corner and slammed into the red brick wall, dropping his bookbag and looking up to find himself in one of those dreaded dead-ends. The only way out was through the trio of malicious athletes standing at the entrance.
"Grab him!" Smacky ordered one of his lackeys. On command, the smaller of the two jocks sprinted forward and grabbed Dib's hair, pulling him to his feet. With a sneer into the pale teenager's upturned face, he tossed him to Torque, who promptly buried his fist into Dib's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Picking him up by the trenchcoat collar and pressing him against the brick wall, he brought his fist back to smash into his face, but was stopped by a shrill voice echoing between the walls.
"HEY, MEATBAG!!"
All three jocks whipped around to see the interloper, who was standing defiantly at the entrance to the alley. Torque smirked, recognizing the little green freak in front of him from health class. Zim pointed dramatically up at them. "Three against one isn't exactly fair. Have you no honor, stinkbeasts?"
Smacky just stared at Zim, halfway between confusion and amusement. Distracted, he didn't notice the oversized literature textbook that Dib had until he bashed him over the head with it. The jock staggered, dropping Dib to the floor and screaming to his cronies to bring him the little green freak's head as well. The pale teenager hit the ground hard and dropped his improvised weapon, which was promptly kicked out of his reach by the other jocks on their way to "educate" Zim. Dib didn't bother to retrieve it, and instead scrambled to his feet and grabbed Smacky, throwing him headfirst into the wall with all his strength. Surprised at his own action, Dib watched the post-pubescent monster stumble again and slump against the wall, out cold.
Near the entrance, one of the jocks lunged forward in an attempt to tackle the Irken. Using his size to his advantage, Zim nimbly dodged and the jock went right past him. Quicker than the human eye, A flash of silver erupted from Zim's pak and bludgeoned his attacker over the head, knocking him against the wall, unconscious. "All too easy." Zim scoffed, turning his head around just in time to connect with the other jock's fist. Zim reeled back, hissing from the pain. His hand went up over his right eye, which was now oozing a bluish-green ichor. His lens had been broken. His attacker just stood there, admiring his handiwork. "...Overgrown meat child!" Zim screamed. "You'll pay for that!"
"Bring it, shortie." The squat football player taunted. Zim growled and screamed at the jock, who had no idea he'd just hurled a mortal insult at him. Zim lunged forward, his claws clenched into fists, not really thinking in his rage. The jock just sidestepped, and allowed Zim to fly past and pound his hand into the brick wall instead. Yelping in pain and withdrawing his hand, Zim backed away, but not fast enough. The jock grabbed his shirt and pulled his light frame to his face, holding him there with a massive fist. "You're gonna regret the day you messed with me, freak!" He growled, towering over Zim. Zim braced himself for another punch, but a familiar white textbook appeared behind the quarterback and knocked him out with one smooth motion. The jock collapsed, tossing Zim down roughly to the ground. Dib stood behind his fallen attacker, clutching his red-stained textbook.
"Are you all right, Zim?" He asked, offering a hand that Zim gratefully took. He didn't look so good, one hand disfigured and cradled under his arm and the other holding his bleeding eye. Dib looked down at his own hand and saw it covered with slippery green liquid.
"Let's get out of here!" Zim hissed under his breath, a slight tinge of worry in his voice. The bleeding from his eye wasn't stopping. Dib nodded and turned to leave, but paused when he noticed a dent in the brick wall, right where Zim had smashed his fist into it. But, there's no way that Zim could've done that!
Was there?
Before Dib could say anything about it, Zim pulled him out of the alley and into the street.
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Dib kicked opened the front door to Zim's house. In he stumbled, holding up a very pale Zim. He looked awful: The broken lens had chewed up his right eye, and his red shirt was turned an unpleasant brown color from being soaked in his bluish-green blood.
"I need to get down into the lab." Zim mentioned weakly. "I'll be able to fix this."
Dib nodded and started towards an accent table in the corner of the living room, crowned with a gaudy assortment of strange-looking flowers. "Open up!" He yelled, and the table, along with the floor beneath it, began to rise, revealing yet another access port to the lab. "Come on." He said, half-dragging Zim into the elevator with him. On the way down, Dib began to stare out the glasslike tube they were traveling down. The knots of tubes and wires that made up the walls of the base were sickly biological in design. How Zim could draw comfort from someplace like this, he had no idea. Dib's train of thought was derailed when he noticed the weight he was carrying getting heavier. "Zim?" He looked down to find him unconscious. "Zim??"
The elevator door opened, and Dib tried to maneuver his companion over his shoulders so he could carry him, only having partial luck. Dragging him into the knotted hallways, he tried to figure out exactly where to take him. There had to be some medical quarters somewhere, but he didn't know where. Even then, what could he do? He didn't know a thing about irken medicine, he thought despairingly.
"You! What are YOU doing here?!" He looked up from the floor to see Min running up towards him. Halfways there, she stopped in her tracks as she realized what he was carrying. "What the-- Oh, slark! What have you done to him??" She sprinted over to him and gently lifted Zim's head, looking at his eye.
"I didn't do this to him, Min!" Dib replied, his tone halfway between irritation and desperation. "Do you know how to help him?"
"...Come on! I'll help you carry him." She answered, and maneuvered underneath one of Zim's arms. With the two of them carrying him, they made it through the corridors a lot faster. While they were waiting for yet another elevator, Min reached into one of her pockets with her free hand, drew out a small cylinder and bit off the cap, revealing a needle. She plunged it into Zim's arm, and the mechanical syringe hissed quietly as the bluish fluid inside disappeared.
"What are you doing?" Dib asked in confusion.
She pulled the needle from Zim's arm, and capped it again. "It's a stabilizer pack. Repair and blood-forming hormones in a copper nitrate suspension." She tossed the needle to the side. "With that, he can heal just about anything. I was hoping to save it until after I analyzed him and set his hand, but we need it to buy time."
Analyzed him? Dib opened his mouth to ask, but was cut short by the rumbling open of the elevator doors.
The medical room was just as spherical and organic as the rest of the base. It was a small chamber with a single bed built into the wall, which glowed white under it's own volition. A company of tall chests stood beside it. Bottles of green sterilizing fluid lined the counter on the other side. The circular door dilated, and Dib and Min walked through, carrying the still-unconscious Zim.
"...and then I looked at the wall, and there was a big dent where he'd hit it! I don't know what it means. Do you think he could have hit it that hard? Maybe it has something to do with those growth spurts and stuff..." Dib babbled, finishing up his recollection of the fight at skool.
Min let go of him, and hustled to the counter, pulling off her gloves and opening the seal on one of the bottles on the counter. "Get him onto the bed!" She said, as though she hadn't really been listening.
Dib mumbled something under his breath and picked Zim up, placing him on the glowing white slab. Min poured the contents of the bottle over her hands, letting it run off into a sink in the counter. She tossed the bottle back onto the counter, and began sifting through drawers and cabinets, grabbing bags, bottles, syringes, tweezers, scalpels...
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Dib asked, watching her buzz around the room. She glared at him, dropping everything onto a surgical table and pushing it over to the cot. Her expression softened when she looked down at Zim. As Dib looked on, she lightly placed her hands on Zim's chest, one on top of the other. A thin metal arm reached out from her pak, and positioned itself over Zim's forehead. At the tip of the arm was an acrylic sphere that was completely clear. She closed her eyes, and the sphere began to glow green. Quickly, the arm swayed over his eyes, where the orb flashed red. Min winced. Then the orb floated just above his broken hand, where it flashed red a second time. It then retreated back into her pak. Min opened her eyes, her face concerned. She grabbed a pair of scissors and tossed them to Dib. "I need your help. Cut off that glove on his hand." She said, pointing at Zim's broken hand and pulling off the other glove. "And be careful. It's fractured in three places."
Blinking in confusion, Dib lookd down at Zim. He's gonna be pissed, Dib thought absentmindedly as he started cutting off the glove, trying not to get squeamish at the sight of Zim's gnarled hand. Three fingers or five, it didn't matter. They still didn't look right broken.
On the other arm, Min was drawing patina-colored fluid from his wrist. Her movements were crisp, practiced, even professional. Taking the needle off and setting the syringe aside, she turned and grabbed a bag of similar liquid from the table, ran a transfusion into Zim's arm. Grabbing the syringe again, she dropped it into a strange black box-shaped device on the table. It beeped, and she picked it up. By this time, Dib was finished, and she walked around, opened the box, and clamped it down onto Zim's broken hand, before Dib could see what was inside. It beeped again, and began a weird humming sound. Zim winced.
"I know. It hurts." Min said soothingly, stroking his antenna lightly. "I'm sorry, Zim." She looked up at Dib, meeting his confused look. The softness melted from her face, and she cleared her throat. "It's resetting his hand. It'll also make his bones knit in a couple of hours, as opposed to a couple of weeks." She replied quickly. She reached over and grabbed the pair of tweezers, looking at his eye. "Maybe you'd better wait outside, Dib..." She said, glancing up at him. "Or better yet, just go home and get some rest. I'll contact you when he comes to. He'll be fine, but I'm pretty sure you don't want to see this..."
Dib nodded. He'd be back here later, he figured. "...How do you know how to do all this?" Dib asked, trying desperately to get one question out before he left.
"...It's what I do." Was her reply. Dib sighed and resignfully started towards the door, turning back just as it dilated.
"...I'm sorry for the way I acted. You know, last time. Tell Zim I'm sorry, too. I guess we really CAN trust you, after all." Dib said, backing out through the portal.
Min glanced at him, smiling, her red eyes gleaming in the light. "I'm glad you think that, Dib."
The hallways were flooded with the bodies of seventh and eighth graders, forming a raging torrent towards the exit. He sighed, buried his nose in his textbook and plunged into the throng of students, following the crowd to the door. Normally, Zim would be walking next to him, chattering on about the idiocy of he human race or at least flashing a warning glare to any bully or jock that considered them for a source of amusement. But Zim hadn't talked to him since he had left his house a week ago, and Dib hadn't bothered to seek him out. He didn't even look at him in class. True, he'd been a jerk, he admitted to himself as he stared blankly at a chapter of the textbook he wasn't really reading. If he were the only human on a strange planet for a long time and suddenly another human just showed up, he'd be acting the same way. But Dib didn't want to take any chances. Zim showed up three years ago intent on destroying human society. Who was to say that Min wasn't supposed to do the same?
Dib absentmindedly turned the corner in the skool parking lot. Lost in thought and staring at his reading assignment, he wasn't watching where he was going. He only took a couple of steps before he collided with an overloaded blue raspberry freezie, which exploded all over the designer shirt of it's handler: Torgue Smacky, the 200-pound quarterback of the football team. At first preoccupied with his shirt, the jock's overdeveloped muscles twitched in rage as his gaze slowly rose to meet Dib's, eyeing him with the kind of look a predator would flash at it's next meal.
At first speechless with terror, Dib tried to stammer an apology. "I-I'm sorry about that. I--" His words were cut short when the hulk grabbed him by the trenchcoat collar.
"Oh, you're sorry, are ya? Not as sorry as you're gonna be, dweeb..." While up in the air, he noticed two more jocks standing behind him, both with the same kind of look that Torque had. "This shirt cost me 75 bucks, and I'm gonna take every penny outta your ass!" He hissed, violently throwing a stumbling Dib around a corner and following close behind.
The middle skool's layout was a one-story knot of hallways, branching out in odd directions, the thin brick walls forming meandering dead-ends and bare alcoves all though the outside parking lot. These deserted windowless alleys were often used for after-skool fights and daily "lessons" by the more dangerous members of the student body. Dib stumbled around the corner and slammed into the red brick wall, dropping his bookbag and looking up to find himself in one of those dreaded dead-ends. The only way out was through the trio of malicious athletes standing at the entrance.
"Grab him!" Smacky ordered one of his lackeys. On command, the smaller of the two jocks sprinted forward and grabbed Dib's hair, pulling him to his feet. With a sneer into the pale teenager's upturned face, he tossed him to Torque, who promptly buried his fist into Dib's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Picking him up by the trenchcoat collar and pressing him against the brick wall, he brought his fist back to smash into his face, but was stopped by a shrill voice echoing between the walls.
"HEY, MEATBAG!!"
All three jocks whipped around to see the interloper, who was standing defiantly at the entrance to the alley. Torque smirked, recognizing the little green freak in front of him from health class. Zim pointed dramatically up at them. "Three against one isn't exactly fair. Have you no honor, stinkbeasts?"
Smacky just stared at Zim, halfway between confusion and amusement. Distracted, he didn't notice the oversized literature textbook that Dib had until he bashed him over the head with it. The jock staggered, dropping Dib to the floor and screaming to his cronies to bring him the little green freak's head as well. The pale teenager hit the ground hard and dropped his improvised weapon, which was promptly kicked out of his reach by the other jocks on their way to "educate" Zim. Dib didn't bother to retrieve it, and instead scrambled to his feet and grabbed Smacky, throwing him headfirst into the wall with all his strength. Surprised at his own action, Dib watched the post-pubescent monster stumble again and slump against the wall, out cold.
Near the entrance, one of the jocks lunged forward in an attempt to tackle the Irken. Using his size to his advantage, Zim nimbly dodged and the jock went right past him. Quicker than the human eye, A flash of silver erupted from Zim's pak and bludgeoned his attacker over the head, knocking him against the wall, unconscious. "All too easy." Zim scoffed, turning his head around just in time to connect with the other jock's fist. Zim reeled back, hissing from the pain. His hand went up over his right eye, which was now oozing a bluish-green ichor. His lens had been broken. His attacker just stood there, admiring his handiwork. "...Overgrown meat child!" Zim screamed. "You'll pay for that!"
"Bring it, shortie." The squat football player taunted. Zim growled and screamed at the jock, who had no idea he'd just hurled a mortal insult at him. Zim lunged forward, his claws clenched into fists, not really thinking in his rage. The jock just sidestepped, and allowed Zim to fly past and pound his hand into the brick wall instead. Yelping in pain and withdrawing his hand, Zim backed away, but not fast enough. The jock grabbed his shirt and pulled his light frame to his face, holding him there with a massive fist. "You're gonna regret the day you messed with me, freak!" He growled, towering over Zim. Zim braced himself for another punch, but a familiar white textbook appeared behind the quarterback and knocked him out with one smooth motion. The jock collapsed, tossing Zim down roughly to the ground. Dib stood behind his fallen attacker, clutching his red-stained textbook.
"Are you all right, Zim?" He asked, offering a hand that Zim gratefully took. He didn't look so good, one hand disfigured and cradled under his arm and the other holding his bleeding eye. Dib looked down at his own hand and saw it covered with slippery green liquid.
"Let's get out of here!" Zim hissed under his breath, a slight tinge of worry in his voice. The bleeding from his eye wasn't stopping. Dib nodded and turned to leave, but paused when he noticed a dent in the brick wall, right where Zim had smashed his fist into it. But, there's no way that Zim could've done that!
Was there?
Before Dib could say anything about it, Zim pulled him out of the alley and into the street.
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Dib kicked opened the front door to Zim's house. In he stumbled, holding up a very pale Zim. He looked awful: The broken lens had chewed up his right eye, and his red shirt was turned an unpleasant brown color from being soaked in his bluish-green blood.
"I need to get down into the lab." Zim mentioned weakly. "I'll be able to fix this."
Dib nodded and started towards an accent table in the corner of the living room, crowned with a gaudy assortment of strange-looking flowers. "Open up!" He yelled, and the table, along with the floor beneath it, began to rise, revealing yet another access port to the lab. "Come on." He said, half-dragging Zim into the elevator with him. On the way down, Dib began to stare out the glasslike tube they were traveling down. The knots of tubes and wires that made up the walls of the base were sickly biological in design. How Zim could draw comfort from someplace like this, he had no idea. Dib's train of thought was derailed when he noticed the weight he was carrying getting heavier. "Zim?" He looked down to find him unconscious. "Zim??"
The elevator door opened, and Dib tried to maneuver his companion over his shoulders so he could carry him, only having partial luck. Dragging him into the knotted hallways, he tried to figure out exactly where to take him. There had to be some medical quarters somewhere, but he didn't know where. Even then, what could he do? He didn't know a thing about irken medicine, he thought despairingly.
"You! What are YOU doing here?!" He looked up from the floor to see Min running up towards him. Halfways there, she stopped in her tracks as she realized what he was carrying. "What the-- Oh, slark! What have you done to him??" She sprinted over to him and gently lifted Zim's head, looking at his eye.
"I didn't do this to him, Min!" Dib replied, his tone halfway between irritation and desperation. "Do you know how to help him?"
"...Come on! I'll help you carry him." She answered, and maneuvered underneath one of Zim's arms. With the two of them carrying him, they made it through the corridors a lot faster. While they were waiting for yet another elevator, Min reached into one of her pockets with her free hand, drew out a small cylinder and bit off the cap, revealing a needle. She plunged it into Zim's arm, and the mechanical syringe hissed quietly as the bluish fluid inside disappeared.
"What are you doing?" Dib asked in confusion.
She pulled the needle from Zim's arm, and capped it again. "It's a stabilizer pack. Repair and blood-forming hormones in a copper nitrate suspension." She tossed the needle to the side. "With that, he can heal just about anything. I was hoping to save it until after I analyzed him and set his hand, but we need it to buy time."
Analyzed him? Dib opened his mouth to ask, but was cut short by the rumbling open of the elevator doors.
The medical room was just as spherical and organic as the rest of the base. It was a small chamber with a single bed built into the wall, which glowed white under it's own volition. A company of tall chests stood beside it. Bottles of green sterilizing fluid lined the counter on the other side. The circular door dilated, and Dib and Min walked through, carrying the still-unconscious Zim.
"...and then I looked at the wall, and there was a big dent where he'd hit it! I don't know what it means. Do you think he could have hit it that hard? Maybe it has something to do with those growth spurts and stuff..." Dib babbled, finishing up his recollection of the fight at skool.
Min let go of him, and hustled to the counter, pulling off her gloves and opening the seal on one of the bottles on the counter. "Get him onto the bed!" She said, as though she hadn't really been listening.
Dib mumbled something under his breath and picked Zim up, placing him on the glowing white slab. Min poured the contents of the bottle over her hands, letting it run off into a sink in the counter. She tossed the bottle back onto the counter, and began sifting through drawers and cabinets, grabbing bags, bottles, syringes, tweezers, scalpels...
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Dib asked, watching her buzz around the room. She glared at him, dropping everything onto a surgical table and pushing it over to the cot. Her expression softened when she looked down at Zim. As Dib looked on, she lightly placed her hands on Zim's chest, one on top of the other. A thin metal arm reached out from her pak, and positioned itself over Zim's forehead. At the tip of the arm was an acrylic sphere that was completely clear. She closed her eyes, and the sphere began to glow green. Quickly, the arm swayed over his eyes, where the orb flashed red. Min winced. Then the orb floated just above his broken hand, where it flashed red a second time. It then retreated back into her pak. Min opened her eyes, her face concerned. She grabbed a pair of scissors and tossed them to Dib. "I need your help. Cut off that glove on his hand." She said, pointing at Zim's broken hand and pulling off the other glove. "And be careful. It's fractured in three places."
Blinking in confusion, Dib lookd down at Zim. He's gonna be pissed, Dib thought absentmindedly as he started cutting off the glove, trying not to get squeamish at the sight of Zim's gnarled hand. Three fingers or five, it didn't matter. They still didn't look right broken.
On the other arm, Min was drawing patina-colored fluid from his wrist. Her movements were crisp, practiced, even professional. Taking the needle off and setting the syringe aside, she turned and grabbed a bag of similar liquid from the table, ran a transfusion into Zim's arm. Grabbing the syringe again, she dropped it into a strange black box-shaped device on the table. It beeped, and she picked it up. By this time, Dib was finished, and she walked around, opened the box, and clamped it down onto Zim's broken hand, before Dib could see what was inside. It beeped again, and began a weird humming sound. Zim winced.
"I know. It hurts." Min said soothingly, stroking his antenna lightly. "I'm sorry, Zim." She looked up at Dib, meeting his confused look. The softness melted from her face, and she cleared her throat. "It's resetting his hand. It'll also make his bones knit in a couple of hours, as opposed to a couple of weeks." She replied quickly. She reached over and grabbed the pair of tweezers, looking at his eye. "Maybe you'd better wait outside, Dib..." She said, glancing up at him. "Or better yet, just go home and get some rest. I'll contact you when he comes to. He'll be fine, but I'm pretty sure you don't want to see this..."
Dib nodded. He'd be back here later, he figured. "...How do you know how to do all this?" Dib asked, trying desperately to get one question out before he left.
"...It's what I do." Was her reply. Dib sighed and resignfully started towards the door, turning back just as it dilated.
"...I'm sorry for the way I acted. You know, last time. Tell Zim I'm sorry, too. I guess we really CAN trust you, after all." Dib said, backing out through the portal.
Min glanced at him, smiling, her red eyes gleaming in the light. "I'm glad you think that, Dib."