I was very excited to write this but also very nervous to write this! BUT WE'RE GOING FOR IT! I apologize for the length; but I felt if I cut it off short then it would have been a horrible cliff-hanger to leave off on for who knows how long. I'm working on a lot of projects right now. So, just a fair warning that this chapter is about ~8000 words.
Also, I'm stating a tw for blood/gore near the end.
ENJOY!
Part 51: Sweep
Dib tinkered with the microbots, his focus consumed by the work under the microscope. Zim was adjusting the headset. It had been about a month since Dib had been put on his impromptu schedule change. Outside of Zim tagging along when Dib went to spend time with his old club, they had hardly left the base. They'd spent most of their time tinkering on various projects, the most recent and time consuming of the batch being their microbots.
"Think we'll get these ready by the expedition next year?" Dib asks.
"Hmm…" Zim watched the bots on the table in front of him wriggle to life, vibrating on the table before forming basic shapes. They were still jittery in their movements; but they were functional. Zim smiled and hummed, taking the headset off. "Not quite… but almost."
Dib scooped them all into the box, newfound determination forming on his face. "I can work on it at home, too, later. I'll have at least an hour before bed after dinner."
"Do as you wish. Your father's quick-use lab should be some help," Zim says, leaning back with a stretch. He looked like a cat, hunching over as he was. Dib heard a small beep and eyed Zim's side of the table as he zipped his bag. Zim groaned.
"What was that?"
"PAK maintenance." Zim grumbled.
He reached behind him, feeling under his PAK's edge. It clicked off—a literal click that Dib heard and flinched to—and Zim brought it around. Dib joined him on his side of the table. The skin that was bare in the hole in Zim's shirt was several shades lighter than Dib would have thought. Even with the knowledge that skin was lighter when not exposed to sunlight, Dib would have expected it to be darker still. He still wasn't sure how he felt about its removal, despite his growing familiarity with it. What was catching him off guard most were the veins he could see through the skin. Dib could see they were coming from the tube ports of the PAK's connection, the color fading away the further it got. He pulled a seat up, watching Zim open the back of the PAK. Dib couldn't understand most of what he was seeing. All he really understood was that Zim was doing a functions check-up.
"Is it ok?" Dib asks.
"Of course it is. This is merely a scheduled maintenance check." Zim says with a small scoff. He opened a smaller panel, looking around inside it, tilting his PAK to do so.
"Honestly, I didn't even really think about that being something you had to do," Dib confessed. "…Thinking about it, though, that makes sense."
"It IS still machinery," Zim mumbles. He paused, tilting his head up, his antennae vibrating.
"What?" Dib asks.
"I don't…" Zim looked up. "What is that?"
"What? A noise?" Dib looked up as well. "You're sure it isn't Gir?"
Zim froze and cocked his antenna a moment before the walls around them shook alongside a loud boom. Dib immediately ducked under the table in a scramble. Zim disregarded his tools, swearing a storm in Irken as he almost didn't catch his PAK in time before it hit the floor. He held it close as he joined Dib under the table. The shaking settled, the noise that had accompanied it dying out. Dib looked up, expecting Zim to be looking annoyed, but he looked angry. Zim shoved his PAK into Dib's arms.
"Put it on my back!" he shouted. Dib turned it around, hands fumbling a moment, the cables reaching out for the connecters in Zim's back effortlessly. It flipped itself right side up—being upside down something Dib hadn't noticed—and once it had situated itself, Zim darted from the table. "Stay!"
"What, why? What was that?"
"That was not Gir," Zim shouts back, kicking away a small ceiling panel. "Stay!"
"Are you nuts?! I'm fifty meters underground!" Dib screamed, chasing after him. He followed him into a monitor room. Zim threw up the security feed from the front lawn. A massive hole was in his yard. Wires and tubing from his base was just barely visible at the bottom of the pit.
Zim's antenna were vibrating flat against his skull. His claws dug into the table.
"What made that?" Dib asked. Though, he had a guess.
"I heard it falling before it hit," Zim seethed, dragging his hand down his face. "Idiot. Idiot, idiot. I KNOW what that sounds like—and I still questioned it!"
"Zim—"
"WARNING: IMMINENT ATTACK APPROACHING."
Dib looked up to the ceiling. That wasn't the usual voice of the computer system.
"WARNING: IMMINENT ATTACK APPROACHING."
The camera moved upward, another bomb falling to where the first had landed, from the trajectory that Dib could make out before it hit. Zim was shoving him under the table again. Dib could at least tell it was coming from across town. The base rumbled around them. Dib thought he could hear metal groaning under the strain. Ceiling panels clattered onto the floor. Zim pulled him out before it had finished, holding him close and using the spider legs to vault them across the base. He set Dib down under an archway door. He ducked into the room, throwing up some monitor screens.
"What are you doing?"
"Firing BACK, obviously. They've picked a fight," Zim said. Dib could hear the traces of excitement. He'd have to figure out a way to stimulate Zim's… violent tendencies one day. But today it seemed someone else was handling that for him. His antennae were still vibrating angrily against his skull. Dib didn't' want to look at his eyes—he'd seen them glow before and while it was a cool effect in the dark it was chilling when they glowed out of anger. On the other hand, he was certain it would look incredible.
"While you're here, no less." Zim added, snapping Dib out of his stupor.
"Aw, you're worried—"
"Shut up."
"But you are," Dib teased. Zim shot him a look as he flicked a switch. The wires and tubes in the pit that encompassed half his yard disappeared into the dirt.
"How can you possibly tease at a time like this? MY BASE IS UNDER ATTACK!" Zim screamed. Dib threw his arms up.
"Well, I don't know what else to do! You're the one who knows how all this shit works!" Dib whined.
"That is why you're staying out of it," Zim shoots back. He returned to the screens, spotting several cars pulling up in front of his base. Zim glared at them as humans filed out, guns drawn, one of them holding a finger up to his ear. He really detested those despicable weapons. Zim flipped the top off another switch. He paused.
"Dib, your phone isn't going to be operational. And the base is going to be compromised for a moment." Zim says. Dib watches him flip the switch. A similar feeling and sound to the Voot shooting off its retaliation in the woods came from somewhere deep in the base. The lights flickered out, only a small percentage coming back on with back-up power initiating.
"Did… did you just unleash your own EMP attack?" Dib asks incredulously.
"Not entirely. I unleashed a counter strike for electronics and communications. As I'm sure you'll figure out, no one can call anyone, now." Zim says.
"What good does that do?! You could have just set up a signal blocker," Dib shouts. Zim rushed past him, picking Dib up and carrying him along with him on his PAK legs.
"This way was faster; and they cannot get inside through the elevators," Zim explains. "Nor can they use any weaponry that may utilize similar systems."
"What—those doors don't lock?!"
"The hydraulics locking up to a lack of power will certainly hinder any attempt to do enter just fine." Zim mumbles. He dropped Dib off at the spare room. Dib turned, stopping at Zim's face inches from his own, red orbs glaring down at him. "Do. NOT. Leave."
"But—"
"GIR!"
"Zim, seriously—" Dib stopped short with a yelp. Gir came crashing down through one of the elevator tubes, stopping short to give Zim a salute. The short stop had him skidding on the floor a few feet before he could stop. Zim ignored the slip up, gesturing to Dib.
"Gir, your only job is to keep Dib safe. Understand?" Zim asks.
"Yes, Master!" Gir saluted again, eyes flashing red a moment. Dib shot Zim a glare.
"Zim, I'm not a child—"
"Debatable."
"I'm fine!"
"You are defenseless," Zim corrects. "Stay."
Dib shouted after him, almost tripping over Gir as the robot blocked his path. Dib tried side stepping him. Gir grabbed onto his shin, tripping him up back into the room. Dib fell on the ground, scrambling up so Gir couldn't pin him.
"Gir, please." Dib pleaded.
He heard a sound from above, the noise distracting Gir briefly. Dib felt bad about it, but he found himself kicking Gir out of the way regardless. He snatched his bag on his way out, flanking left down the hall as Gir made a mess of the room to get out of the door. Dib ducked around a corner, slinging the bag over his shoulder as he ran.
Zim poked his head out from the fridge's freezer door. The humans were in the living room, moving slowly. He used the PAK's legs, reaching up to the large chords and pipes that made up the ceiling. The freezer door slowly shut after him, making hardly a sound. Zim crawled between the chords, moving further up into the darkness until he was sure he couldn't be seen. He could hear them walking on the tiles. He counted six of them in the kitchen alone. Four more in the living room. He heard one starting up the stairs to the Voot's landing hull. He must have left the door open. Careless, but they couldn't fly it.
Zim used the PAK's legs to maneuver through the piping, leaning around the largest of them to see. The humans were checking each cupboard and piece of furniture. Zim felt a rage start up in him that he knew all too well when he knew someone was sneaking around where they didn't belong. But first, he needed to hand that human in the stairs. Zim moved towards the door, the tips of the legs gingerly maneuvering around the pipes and chords. Zim swung himself down and through the door, sliding it shut with hardly a sound. He latched it slowly, careful to be as silent as possible, so as not to alert any of the humans in the kitchen. Once he was satisfied, he turned his attention to the steps he could hear around the twisting stairs. He made his way up, the PAK legs using the wall to move more quickly.
"Hello? Hey, can anyone read?"
The sound of static was the only response through the radio. The human swore, stowing his walkie again. He looked over the Voot, oblivious to the red eyes staring him down. Zim eyed the gun he had in his other hand. The human walked around the Voot, Zim matching his pace as he flanked the wall. The human whistled.
"This is…. Wow."
He leaned in to look into the windshield. Zim took the shot. A leg shot out, catching the human in the shoulder. Zim cupped his glove over his mouth to stifle the scream. He kicked the gun from his hand, a second leg catching it and holding it by the trigger loop out of the human's reach. Zim held him against the Voot to impede any struggle.
"I believe you're trespassing," he hissed. The human gave another thrash. It was much less experienced than what Dib could have given. Zim found that sad. A teenage boy would do better fighting him off than any of these humans would. Zim put more pressure against his back, one of his leg's points hovering over his neck. "Scream and you'll be breathing blood, understand?"
The man nodded frantically. Zim lifted his hand, expecting the scream to come, but it didn't.
"Good. Now, as I said, you're trespassing," Zim begins. He tapped his claws on the Voot's metal exterior, showing their sharpness for the man to see. "How many of you, exactly, thought it wise to enter my base without permission?"
"Just us! Just us, I swear! We can't call for backup, so if you let me go, I'll tell them I didn't find anything and we'll leave-!"
"I doubt that," Zim interrupts. The man shivered. Zim looked at his shoulder. "You'll likely bleed out within a few minutes. I didn't intend to cut that artery, but you did move."
"Please—"
"Don't beg, you worm. I won't let you die. I just need you to sleep."
Zim stuck a need in his neck. The human was out within a few moments, falling to the floor. The PAK gave him two other tools. He closed the piercing wound, setting a bandage on it. He could at the least wipe this human's memory. A quick wipe of the last twelve hours could do the trick. He dragged him over to one of the bolted down tables, rummaging through his pockets to find a pair of handcuffs, using them to trap the man by wrists to the table's leg. Zim highly doubted they'd be able to break free. He kept looking, finding a small key. He tossed it across the room.
Zim made his way to the Voot, locking the windshield on his way by. He could deal with moving it after he got rid of his pest problem. He eyed the man again. He really wanted to do away with him. He could, if he wished to. But; Dib's disappointing voice kept coming up each time Zim had the thought. He could, at the very least, keep casualties to a minimum for Dib's sake. Otherwise he doubted he'd ever hear the end of it.
He made his way down the stairs, pausing at the door. He could hear them on the other side, debating on what to do. Zim couldn't leave that way, then. That was fine. He made his way back up the stairs and took a tool from his PAK. He flipped it on, toward the floor. A laser shot out, starting its work on cutting through the metal. It was hardly quiet. He hoped that the others in the kitchen couldn't hear it—or identify it if they could. He would have to deal with the consequences later. He was already going to have to do extensive repairs as it was. The floor's new panel fell, barely caught in time by Zim, and he set it aside. Zim shimmied his way down, crawling through the pipes until he hit another floor. He did the same here, the laser at a much lower intensity, requiring multiple passes. He could hear the humans, louder now that the house appeared empty, and caught the new panel again. He peered through it, spying the humans convening in the living room from between the chords. The PAK opened and Zim thought of what to grab. He debated something to smoke them out. If nothing else; he could take them out one by one and lock the base up until he could figure out how to get the Voot into the underground portions. After that he could—
"—You saw the ground after the first hit, right?"
Zim's antennae twitched. He craned his neck to hear better.
"The metal bits?"
"They're gone now, I saw as we came in."
"You're full of shit."
"I'm not full of shit! They're gone!"
"So what? They probably got covered by dirt."
"No, they're just gone, it's not collapsed. Check it for yourself!"
One of the humans sighed, moving to the door. "Fine, I'll check them. They're just water pipes, sheesh. I have to use the car radio, anyway. None of the walkies work and my earpiece isn't—"
The door didn't open, stuck in place. Zim glared at them. The human tried again, bracing his foot on the frame to get leverage that would ultimately do nothing for him. Zim watched one come up to the door with something in his hands.
"Move, I'll get rid of it."
"Wh—you aren't cleared to lay that down!" the first man says, shoving him away.
"You got another way out? Just look up! This place isn't right!" the second shouts. Zim shrank back as the humans all took in the lack of a ceiling. Zim really hadn't thought about other humans coming into his base. Hiding the chords and pipes wasn't a thought that had ever crossed his mind. He set the thing in his hands on the door, setting a primer. "Get in the kitchen."
Zim looked up as they all filed in, spying the device. He had seen it before in the movies that Dib had brought over. An explosive. Zim had to stop himself from launching down to disable it. He'd risk being shot before he could reach it. Each of the humans in his base had a gun—that DESPICABLE weapon—and half had them still drawn. Zim was half certain that was against their safety codes; but he couldn't care less if they happened to shoot themselves or each other. It would just make it easier for him.
"Franklin, we can't just blow a hole in the door. C'mon, man." The first man says. He had stayed in the living room stubbornly. 'Franklin' looked up at him, looking utterly done with the house entirely.
"You want that weirdo to shove another missile? Because he'll definitely shoot another missile," Franklin says. The first man laughed.
"There is no way he has access to a third one. He isn't even there anymore."
"Look, he was right about one thing—this house is weird. There ain't no aliens here; but, this house ain't right," Franklin says. He held up the detonator. "Now move. I'm getting out and I'm getting to that car."
The first man dove for the kitchen door, eyes wide and face pale. Zim crawled from the kitchen chords into the living room. He could see the counter reaching zero. He didn't enjoy the thought of damaging his base any further, but he also couldn't let them get to the cars. Screw letting any of them leave—he was taking care of them himself. Memory wipes where he could. The detonator turned to a one and Zim shot a PAK leg down to it. It fit itself between the door and the bomb, dislodging it. One of the men gave a shout with a profanity just before the blast. Zim ducked behind the chords, debris hitting the metal and bouncing back down into the base. The room filled with dust and angry shouting.
Zim blinked, peering out from the chords. He could see the men scrambling about. He reached down, grabbing the first and pulling him up. He kicked out; his scream stifled by Zim's hand. Zim held him, covering his nose as well until he stopped moving. He let him drop, grabbing the attention of the others. Zim used the distraction, grabbing a second one and throwing him into the TV set. He'd have to pay for that later. The TV fell over him. One scrambled to lift it up. Zim grabbed one with the PAK leg, hooking into his jacket and throwing him against another. Neither moved after they landed, their shadowy forms lay slack on the floor. Zim took some throwing needles from his PAK. He stuck one in each of the two, a third into the man under the TV, a fourth in the friend trying to life it up. The fifth needle he stuck into the already unconscious man. He couldn't be too careful and having that one wake up would be inconvenient.
This would be so much easier if he could just kill them.
Zim scuttled to the right as the few left started to raise their guns to the ceiling. He landed in the corner, ducking down and swiping his leg to knock one down. He grappled him from behind, holding him up as a shield. The one man closest aimed his gun.
"No! Don't, don't, don't!"
"Wh—shit. Okay, okay, I'm setting it down," he said.
Zim heard the gun hit the floor. His PAK legs burst forth, pushing off the wall and floor to flip himself over, throwing the human in his hands at the other. Zim darted to the side, a bullet grazing one PAK leg.
"Shit!"
"What is that?!"
Zim slid across the floor, sticking the needles into their calves. He ducked into the kitchen, taking a moment. His shoulder throbbed with the reminder of just what a bullet had already done to him once. He lifted himself back into the ceiling, watching the last three stumble into the kitchen. One was waving his gun around blindly. His arms were forced down by a second human who chastised him for the poor form. The third was smart enough to look up into the ceiling. Zim bent behind a large chord. He scuttled to another end, peeking through the gaps to see 'Franklin' crawl under the table.
"What the hell are you doing?!" one of the other two whispered frantically.
"Fuck off!"
"Frank! Frank, no! Ryan!"
The third human who was still scrutinizing the wrong area of the ceiling now turned. He spotted something under the table and grabbed the second. He pulled him back into the living room. Zim felt something dreadful in the pit of his squeedlyspooch. Franklin darted out from under the table.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"I'm making that thing pay, that's what!"
Zim heard the ticking before he saw the flash. The table rocketed upward with a boom. The force knocked Franklin to the floor, shattered the windows, and shook the chords. Zim seethed, losing his footing. He hung from the chords, his PAK legs holding up the majority of his weight. He watched the main body of the kitchen's floor collapse. The single sewer drain connecting the neighboring houses caught the debris. The table followed suit. Zim decided against being 'gentle'.
Franklin stood, wobbling on his legs. Ryan pulled the last man to the side behind the wall. He looked up, catching sight of Zim. He froze, locking eyes with Zim. Zim froze in turn. He flicked his gaze between the two. Ryan started looking frantically for his gun. Zim wasn't sure where it had gone. He didn't care—so long as he never found it. Franklin was holding one side of his head. He looked up, giving a shout and stumbling over two of the unconscious agents who had bene trapped by the TV.
"Oh, fuck. Fuck! No, no, no! I'm not doing this," Franklin shouted.
He ran to the door, kicking it. Zim dropped, catching Ryan in the back. He vaulted him forward, slamming him into Franklin. The door groaned and strained against the weight and force; but didn't give. Zim growled, stomping up to them. Franklin wasn't moving, leaving Ryan as the only one left for Zim's ire. Zim grabbed him by the collar.
"Wait, wait, wait!"
"You. Are. NOT. WELCOME," Zim hissed. Ryan scrambled to try and get out of Zim's grip. Zim picked him up, holding him by his vest. "You are lucky I made a promise already."
"Look, we're sorry! We didn't even believe the nutso! He got past security, okay?!" Ryan shouted. Zim narrowed his eyes at him.
"Who?"
"That stupid Swollen Eye guy! Look, we're just hired hands, okay?! I didn't sign up for this shit, I didn't believe him!"
"Nor will you remember him," Zim says. He tossed him aside, throwing the need in his thigh without bothering to look. This was a headache waiting to burst. He sauntered to the kitchen, taking in the damage. His antennae twitched, hearing the scramble of footsteps before the body him in the back.
Dib stumbled, another loud boom shaking the base. He hit the wall, catching himself before hitting the ground. He used the wall as support to make his way down the hall. He looked back down the hall, the lack of lights making it seem entirely too eerie. He strained his ears, listening to the groaning and creaks of metal past the walls. Dib grimaced. He shimmied across the wall, spying the elevator at the end of the hall.
"Oh, thank Newton."
Dib raced down the hall. He skidded to a stop at the elevator doors, the realization donning on him. He hit the button, on the off chance that it worked. It didn't. He banged his head on the door. The creaking sounded again. Dib heard it the creaking sound steadily grow louder. He glanced down the hall to where the sounds were reaching an apex. Dib nervously moved under an archway door.
The sounds started to reach an apex. He heard something give, a horrifying breaking sound assaulting his ears. Dib covered his ears, trying his best to block out the noise. It scraped against his eardrums. He could feel the ground quivering from the force of whatever was happening down the hall. When it finally stopped, his looked down the hall. It was still as dark as before. He rummaged in his bag for this flashlight. Dib brought it out, navigating the hall by the small stream of light. He rounded the corner, spotting Gir at the end in front of a pile of large rubble.
"Gir?"
Gir turned to him, eyes red. Dib froze. Zim's story about Gir going a little 'murder-y' started to take up space in his brain. He waited, watching GIr's eyes. He didn't make a move, emulating what he was likely to do for the garden gnomes. Gir stared for a few seconds longer until finally his eyes flashed blue.
"Hello!"
Dib sighed in relief. "Gir. Hi. Recognize me?"
"Mary!"
"Uh, no—"
"The base is collapsing!" Gir shouted cheerily. Dib was beginning to wonder if he viewed every situation in the same optimistic view.
"I can see that," Dib says. "Gir, do you know where Zim is?"
Gir nodded enthusiastically. He pointed to some arbitrary point at the ceiling. Dib looked back at the elevator again. He took a deep breath and sighed.
"Okay, Gir, listen." Dib dropped down, picking Gir up. He leveled his gaze with the robot. "I need you to find Zim and get him to a portion of the base that he can use. Can you do that?"
Gir paused, looking at Dib for a long moment before saluting, eyes turning red. "YES SIR!"
Dib dropped him, watching Gir speed away down the hall before rocketing up the elevator shaft. Dib felt a little jealous watching him zoom up the tube. He turned back to the rubble, sighing heavily. He needed to get back to the guest room. Dib looked at how tall the rubble was. It reached nearly the ceiling. He started climbing, almost stumbling more than once over the loose debris. He stopped halfway up, having a revelation. He opened his bag, taking out the microbots and headset. He put on the headset and dumped the microbots into the rubble.
He watched, satisfied, as they started to form a makeshift tunnel from the center towards the opposite side of the pile. If he could just drop down between the gaps, he could crawl his way through the tunnel the rest of the way. He heard a piece of debris bounce across the floor.
"Dib."
Dib jolted, whirling around. He nearly fell off the pile of rubble. "B-Brandon?!"
Brandon stood at the base of the rubble, staring up at Dib. Dib wasn't sure what to do. He couldn't quite breathe right, his heart and mind were racing, and he palms grew sweaty. He was panicking. Dib gave a nervous laugh.
"Aha… uh… w-wh-what are you doing here?" he asks. An ultimately stupid question, in retrospect. His eyes flicked up to the elevator tube. A rope was swaying softly in the tube, with suction cup boots on either side of it. Dib recognized the device—he'd used himself as a kid. Brandon gave Dib that same chilling smile.
"I've got a bone to pick with you," Brandon says.
Dib looked nervously up at the top of the rubble's pile. He was about half-way to the top. He could probably make it. He looked at Brandon again, eyeing him up. He wasn't carrying anything on him, that Dib could see. Dib slid down the rubble a little further. He reached into his bag, wrapping his hand around the base of the flashlight.
"A-and what would that be?" Dib asked. Brandon waved his hand around them.
"GEE, I wonder."
"Okay, so this is… awkward, of course—"
"YES, IT IS," Brandon shouts, grabbing Dib around the sole of his shoe. Dib tried to brace his stance, only succeeding in keeping Brandon from pulling him down the entire way. Dib kicked out with his free foot, catching Brandon in the chest. It successfully knocked the wind out of him, freeing Dib's foot.
"Okay, okay, you're mad!"
"YOU'RE NOT AS SMART AS YOU APPEAR, APPARENTLY!" Brandon screams. "You kept this from The Swollen Eyeball?! A friggin alien?!"
"I—I—I tried to tell them! They didn't take me seriously!" Dib says. He tried to scramble back up the pile, the loose rubble working against him. He didn't move hardly an inch. "Brandon—"
"Well, I can take this credit, now, can't I? Capture an alien and capture a traitor. It's a two for one!" Brandon announced. He kicked out a large piece of rubble.
The pile started to collapse, dragging Dib down with it. He kicked out at Brandon again, catching him in the shins. Dib scrambled past his grabbing hands. He swung out, catching Brandon in the cheek with the flashlight. Brandon growled, grabbing Dib's trench coat.
"Why do you even care?!" Dib asked. "Why are you even here?!"
"Listen, brat, I didn't do what I just did for nothing. You're already toast. Those hired guns already saw the base's wring in the yard. You think chords and pipes just disappear into the dirt like that? And once they see all THIS—" Brandon gestured again to the hallway. "—The TSE will make this ground zero for—AUGH!"
Dib had landed a solid hit to Brandon's jaw. It was satisfying and sounded great to hear the crack of bone. Vindictive as it was, Brandon had managed to push a few choice buttons. Dib had had enough. Years and years of being ignored and ridiculed even by his own fellow organization members and NOW they want to do something about Zim? Dib wasn't having any of it. He took another swing, the flashlight stopping short. His hand slipped down at a painful angle. Brandon threw the flashlight to the side, catching Dib in the jaw with his fist. Dib's own coordination faltered. His glasses had been knocked off, making sight hard, alongside his own ability to think. He'd been in similar situations with Zim.
Dib shook his head out, getting enough of himself back to see Brandon's next swing.
Zim hit concrete first. Franklin fell off into the water with a grunt. Zim caught his gun fall into the water in his own peripheral. His PAK legs lifted him up, keeping him above water. Franklin rummaged around for his gun, giving up after a few seconds when he couldn't find it. Zim ducked backward into the dark. Franklin paused, catching sight of Zim's glowing eyes. Zim banked right, kicking off the wall to hit Franklin in the side. He stumbled, barely catching himself on the wall.
Zim felt a mild burn as water splashed on him. He held back the hiss of pain, focused on the human before him. The legs moved him to the left, dodging another blind swing from Franklin. Zim took his last needle from the PAK. He rounded Franklin, his PAK moving faster than Franklin could in the uneven terrain under the water. Zim grabbed his vest's back collar. Franklin tried to thrash away from him. Zim took a few hits to his side and one to his head from the flailing hands. The traces of water burned when it hit Zim's skin. He ignored the pain, aiming for Franklin's neck, the thrashing human moving too much, and the needle hit his shoulder instead.
Zim cursed in Irken under his breath. His PAK carried him out of the sewer. Franklin tried to follow, realizing too late that he couldn't reach the landing. He stood at the top of the pile, judging if he could make the jump. Zim set himself down on his own two feet, glaring him down.
"I could carry you over," Zim offered. His voice was laden with sarcasm. "Or let you fall and drown. That would be preferable. And more convenient."
"Try and get near me, I dare you."
"I could easily," Zim says. He ignored Franklin's swearing, ignoring the reminder of the security guard that the words brought with them, taking in the damage to his base. He VERY much wanted to just snap their necks. It would be so much less work. Zim regrettably knew that he couldn't. If he didn't make such an effort not to kill these men, he couldn't look Dib in the eyes.
The windows were all damaged, blown out by the explosions. The floor was a total loss. The walls were less than ideal, bits of debris covering them. Zim could see some superficial damage as well. The ceiling was largely unharmed—a good sign for operational status—and yet it was also covered in dust. Zim noticed with distaste that he, too, was covered in dust and grime. He made his way into the living room about the same time Franklin's voice started to falter and he heard a heavy thud with a groan. Zim caught a light in his peripheral. He looked over, spying the entrance of the side table elevator askew.
"Wh—" Zim jumped back as Gir came bursting out, screaming—though it sounded more like cheering—until Zim caught him by the antennae. Zim rattled the robot. "YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE GUARDING DIB! YOU HAD ONE JOB, YOU STUPID BUCKET OF TRASH!"
"Mary wanted to see you!" Gir explained, utterly unfazed by the shaking. Zim groaned, throwing Gir aside. He stepped toward the tube, his PAK legs already extending to lower him down. He paused, spying a suction cup with a rope attachment leading down.
"Gir. Gather the bodies. Take them down to the labs and strap them to the tables."
"Yes, sir!"
Zim dropped down the tube. His legs scraped the sides of the tubing, keeping his descent fast but controlled. He spotted the wrenched open elevator door on the same level that Dib should have been waiting on. Zim stopped at the door, forcing it open the entire way. He spotted the rubble first. Brandon he saw second, holding a piece of rubble in his hand. Third was Dib on the ground.
That was all he needed to see.
He heard Dib's faint groan and saw the small movement of Dib looking back up at Brandon. The tip of the PAK's leg was already shooting across the hall. Brandon turned half a second too late. The PAK leg skewered him through the chest, continuing with him until it lodged into the rubble. The piece he'd been holding fell to the ground with a clatter. Zim sauntered up to him, pausing at Dib.
"Dib."
Dib mumbled something in return. Zim picked his hand up to find he'd already been struck in the head once. Zim let Dib's hand go, grabbing one of the pieces of rubble to crush in his hand. It did little for his anger. Zim stood, stomping up to Brandon.
Brandon tried to kick out at Zim. Zim caught the leg, clenching his hand and hearing the sounds of bones crushing. He heard Brandon scream, probably swearing, at the pain. Zim glanced back at Dib. He held up his other hand, speaking into his wrist.
"Gir. Come fetch Dib. Bring him to the med bay."
Zim could hear Gir flying towards them from another side of the base. He halted in front of Dib, saluting with red eyes, before picking him up and flying away. Zim turned back to Brandon.
"There. That's better," Zim says.
He retracted the PAK leg, keeping hold of Brandon's leg as he slid down the rubble. Zim spotted the microbots scattering the floor. A few were clinging to Brandon's clothes. The headset was broken, strewn across the floor. The breaking point was about the same area as Dib's head wound. Zim hummed. He yanked on Brandon's leg when he felt a kick at his own shin. He ignored Brandon's shouting. He looked at the red strewn on the floor.
Zim yanked Brandon again, sliding him on the floor. Brandon tried to kick and punch at Zim, his attempts something that Zim would find laughable if he weren't so angry. Zim glared down at him. His PAK leg raised up, slicing down.
Gir dumped the last human onto the last table, singing himself a little jig as he strapped them in. He spun around, spotting Zim turning the corner into the labs. Gir waved at him, oblivious to the red that was hardly distinguishable across Zim's shirt. The red streaking on his skin caught Gir's attention. Gir jumped off the table, rushing to Zim's side. He hung off Zim's arm, swinging with it as Zim passed into the med bay. Dib was sitting on a chair, his head lulled to the side with a hand over fabric covering the gash. Zim forced his breathing to even out.
"Are you awake?" Zim asks. Dib lifted a leg and let it drop as a response.
Zim wasted no time in rummaging through the cabinets. Dib tilted his head to watch, ignoring the throbbing the action brought with it. He watched as Zim cleared a rolling table, bringing it over to Dib. Dib looked at it groggily. Zim's PAK lifted him up, transferring him onto it.
"Ugh. What you doing?" Dib asked.
"Treating you. Obviously."
"Now?" Dib asked incredulously.
Zim pushed him towards a large circle device. Dib figured it worked like a scanner he'd seen in hospitals. Zim started sliding him in, moving his hand off his head. The bleeding had started to stop, but not enough. Zim grimaced.
"Zim?"
"I have to move quickly," Zim says. He clicked his PAK off, fumbling around the interior until he'd found the small injector he needed. He tilted Dib's head, sticking it in his neck. Dib gave a half-hearted attempt to swat him away. "Dib, just sit still."
"That hurt, was that a shot?"
"Of sorts," Zim says. He slid Dib inside the machine.
"Oh, it doesn't hurt," Dib mumbled.
Zim noted the blood flow decreasing and sighed in relief. His fingers hovering over the scanning options. His gaze lingered on the 'complete' option. Zim pressed it, letting the machine roam over Dib.
Dib blinked, the light making his head ache and he closed them again. He rolled over in the sheets and paused. He was in bed sheets. That wasn't right. Not entirely. He breathed in, smelling a familiar scent. His room. Dib sat up slowly, cracking his eyes. He could see the blue of his bedroom walls and the green blobs making up his nightlight star stickers on the ceiling. He saw a swath of green at his bed. Dib reached for his glasses, slipping them on and rubbing at his eyes. The headache was horrible, making it hard for him to see. Zim stirred, looking up at him.
"Hey—" Zim latched onto him, arms wrapping around Dib's body and pinning his own arms against his sides. "Oof!"
Dib chuckled, patting Zim at his sides where he could reach. Dib felt sore all over his body, never mind his head. He rested his chin on Zim's head. He hadn't noticed before that Zim was shaking. Zim's tightened his grip a little more. Dib laid back down, bringing Zim with him.
"You know… you hug kind of tight," Dib says. Zim grunted, squeezing just a little more.
Dib snorted. He heard something move downstairs. Gaz appeared in his doorway moments later, eyes red. She stood in his doorway a moment. Dib gave a meek wave. Gaz walked over, shoving Zim off and into the wall. She grabbed Dib in a hug around his shoulders.
"Stupid girl!" Zim screeched.
"IfyoueverscaremeagainI'mressurectingyouandkillingyoumyself." Gaz whispered. Dib blinked.
"Wait, what."
Gaz let go, turning on her heel to the door. "Dinner is in an hour!" she called back, slamming the door behind her.
Dib stared after her, turning to find Zim looking put out and aggravated. Zim scooted the chair back to the bed, laying his head down like an angry child on Dib's bed. His antenna drooped a little. Dib tested a stretch, finding the sore feeling only increased. He sighed, pushing off his covers. Zim raised a nonexistent eyebrow at him.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked. Dib ruffled his hair.
"I'm going to shower, by the feel of it. How long was I out? Did I get caught in rubble, or something?" Dib asks. He rubbed at his temple. Zim eyed his hand warily.
"Three days," he said slowly. Dib froze. He stared at him.
"Three? God, no wonder Gaz looked so awful," Dib grumbles. He groaned, holding his head. "My head is killing me."
Zim stared him down cautiously. Dib flipped his legs over the edge of the bed. Zim caught him at the shoulder, helping him down. Dib doubted he needed the help. He also doubted telling Zim that would stop him from doing it. Dib kicked some—probably clean—clothes to the hallway. Zim picked them up and threw them at his head.
"Thanks," Dib says. He moved past him to the bathroom in the hall. "What happened?"
Zim paused, leveling his gaze at Dib. He looked conflicted. Finally, his antenna twitched back into what Dib called their 'normal' position and Zim drummed his fingers on his leg.
"I had to do so some work on you and the base after… the intrusion. A lot of memory wiping was done. I shrank the base back to its original compact form." Zim says. He glanced to the side uncertainly. "You were injured. I patched you up and brought you here. Gaz was… displeased."
Dib had a feeling she was a little more than that, but he didn't press further. He just nodded, latching the door shut behind him. A shower would do him wonders. He could use a good one and he was sure he was due for one. He looked in the mirror, spotting the still healing scab on his temple. That explained the headache. Dib sighed, turning his head to get a better look. He noticed a shift in skin tone further down and glanced. His skin at his neck wasn't the right tone. Dib turned his head, craning his neck to see. A patch of his skin was darker, just slightly, like a long-healed scar. He rubbed his hand over it. A small indent was at the center.
"Do you think he'll notice?" Gaz asked. Zim hummed, glancing up the stairs.
"I am not sure." Zim admitted. As if on cue, he heard Dib's shrill voice from upstairs.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
"I think he noticed," Gaz says. Zim glowered at her. He heard the bathroom door slam open and then Dib scrambling down the stairs. He stopped in the doorway, pointing accusingly at his neck.
"What the hell is THIS? I didn't have this before!" Dib shouts.
"I had to do work on you!" Zim says. "As I said!"
"WHY IS THERE A HOLE IN MY NECK?!"
"THERE ISN'T A HOLE IN YOUR NECK—IT HEALED!"
"THAT DOESN'T MAKE ME FEEL BETTER!"
"BE GRATEFUL, YOU ASS, I SAVED YOUR LIFE!"
"Take it outside, drama queens," Gaz spits back, waving the ladle at them. Dib shrank into the living room immediately, followed reluctantly by Zim. Zim hunched his shoulders on the way out, grumbling something in Irken. Dib picked up words he thought were 'ungrateful' and 'annoyance'.
"I am not ungrateful. I am in shock and confused!" Dib says. Zim jolted, shooting Dib a surprised stare. He fumbled for words for a second. Dib smirked proudly at him. "What? I've been studying."
"I—you—"
"I can't understand a lot," Dib confessed. He rubbed at his neck again. "But seriously, what happened?"
Zim sat him down, draping a blanket over his shoulders. Dib sighed, ignoring the mother henning in favor of the warmth. Gaz slipped in from behind, setting a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. She refused to make eye contact with him before she disappeared back into the kitchen. Dib eyed them both.
"You two are acting weird."
"We are not."
"You are so."
"No, we are acting appropriately," Zim defends. Dib caught the flush on his face and sipped his hot chocolate with a raised eyebrow. He stared Zim down, raising his brow just slightly more the longer Zim let the silence stretch. Zim's face got darker and he finally broke. "WHY WERE YOU EVEN IN THE HALLWAY?!"
Dib jerked back. "What?"
"The hall! You weren't in your room where I had left you. Why?" Zim questioned. He fell onto the couch next to Dib, leaning against him. "I told you to stay…"
"…I didn't want to be stuck there while you did who knows what. I don't remember what happened, though. My head hurts. So, I'm guessing I got hit with some falling debris?" Dib asks. He feels Zim tense and looked him over. "Zim?"
"You recall Brandon?" Zim asks. Dib groaned, sipping his drink again before answering.
"Yes. What about him?"
"He… won't be an issue anymore." Zim says. He picked at his sleeve. Dib let the silence go a little longer. He swirled what was left of his hot chocolate, hearing Gaz getting plates ready.
"I… remember… he was angry. He was in the base!" Dib exclaimed, sitting up. He grabbed at his head, falling back down. "Ow."
"So, you do remember," Zim says. He sighed, slinking down into the couch. "I found him with a rock, over you, and took care of it."
Dib squinted his eyes at the hot chocolate. He couldn't remember particulars. He put his feet up on the coffee table. "I remember trying to use the microbots… I don't think they worked."
"He broke the headset." Zim confirmed. Dib rubbed his temple again.
"Oh. Oh, that's what this is."
Zim nodded. Gaz set a bowl of soup at the table, ruffling Dib's hair as she passed him to the available chair. Dib smiled at her, digging himself deeper into the couch.
"What happened to your base?" he asks. Zim's PAK handed something to him and Zim held it up for Dib to see. A small device, looking like a segmented pod with a red dot on one side. Dib turned it over in his hands. "Is this…?"
"The bare bones of it, yes." Zim says. Gaz glanced at it. Zim met her gaze, plucking it from Dib's grasp and tossing it over to her. She caught it, examining it herself. "Most of what I had inside it is stored in a canister in space. It's hidden behind your moon right now."
"So… wait… Zim is your house gone?" Dib asks. Zim's mouth formed a thin line.
"Yes."
"…Oh shit." Dib gaped at him. "So… sleepovers?"
Zim groaned, falling deeper into the couch. "You are lucky I do not actually need sleep."