So, I have about… 14-15 chapters further planned for this series and I am very excited. A few might be two-parters. BUT, I also had to restructure where the forth SOULS chapter is going. After this chapter there are actually 2 more before the last SOULS chapter and I will finally be done with that plot line! It's mostly written out, too.
AS FOR THIS ONE! I wanted to revisit this little bitty~ I want to maybe edit it one more time, but I wanted to post it more haha. And yes, that condition mentioned is a real (very rare) thing that I discovered recently!
Enjoy!
Part 54: A Mediocre Hunting Troupe
Zim turned his contacts over in his hand. He looked up at his disguise in the mirror. The red eyes were strange to see—and he hated to admit that Dib had a point that he looked like a vampire—but he preferred them. He'd heard of people having red eyes; or at least pink ones. What had Dib called that? His PAK supplied the word 'albinism' for him. Images of humans who were pale and had white hair. He picked at the black hair of the wig and scrutinized the darker skin tone. That wasn't going to work. He shrugged. Humans hadn't noticed the green skin. He doubted the eyes would make that big of a difference, either. His PAK continued to search for answers even as he started out of the bathroom, storing his contacts in his PAK.
Dib was in the kitchen, chatting excitedly to Gaz. the sound of her game going forward uninterrupted was all Zim had to hear to know that she wasn't paying any attention to him. Zim rounded the corner and Dib was on him in an instant.
"Hey! I want to go on a trip," Dib declared.
He grabbed Zim by the sleeve and had him pulled towards the door before Zim could properly process his words. Zim noticed that Dib had his backpack and his ghost hunting trench coat on. He slammed his feet on the sidewalk, pulling Dib down with him. Dib barely had time to turn to land on his chest as opposed to his backpack. Dib groaned, glaring up at Zim.
"You're dressed for a spirit hunt," Zim says suspiciously. He eyed Dib accusingly. Dib scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off.
"Okay, I admit, I want to go on a ghost hunt. It's a beautiful night out and I'm bored inside."
"You could not have told me this before?" Zim asks, arching his arm to showcase the empty street given the time. Being past midnight, most of the neighborhood was already asleep.
"The urge just hit me—"
"You are such an aggravation," Zim groans, pinching his brow. Dib stuck his tongue out at him.
"You're already disguised, so what do you care?" Dib asks. "Besides, you've just been holed up in the basement while we sleep every night. I feel bad you have nothing to do."
"I have things to do."
"Zim, you know what I mean," Dib sighs.
Zim looked to the side. He relented, he and Dib hadn't been able to spend time together like they had before at Zim's base pouring over projects or binging movies or games. Zim had improved in his gaming skills enough that it took Gaz longer to beat him at most of her games—and he'd even scored a few wins against her—but the repetition had been grating on him. Zim cupped his chin with a hum. He could use some excitement.
"Alright, I'll come. But, when you have a whim at 2 in morning again I will not be so complacent. I understand humans need sleep," Zim says. Dib jumped, punching the air in excitement. Zim followed him until they'd reached the house. Zim paused on the sidewalk, spying the broken window on the side yard. He grabbed Dib's collar, pointing at the house. "ARE YOU A MASOCIST OR SOMETHING?!"
"Zim, I didn't know you knew words like that," Dib says. Zim swatted the back of his head. "Gah!"
"You're hopeless."
"I'm entertaining," Dib retorts, popping his trench coat's collar. Zim stared at him like he really was hopeless and turned back to the house. Granted, Zim was never bored around him, so Dib had a point.
Both stopped short on the porch. The door was back on its hinges, as if it had never fallen over. Zim pushed the door open, stepping inside ahead of Dib. He couldn't hear anything unusual as he had last time. He paused in the doorway, looking over the rooms that he could see. He looked up the stairs, seeing no shadows or eyes. Dib peered over his shoulder. Zim stepped to the side. Dib almost skipped through, already rummaging through his backpack and pulling out the same equipment he'd had before. As he set up, Zim eyed the environment again. The grid of dots engulfed the room. The strange look strained Zim's eyes when he looked at it too long. He turned away, spying a door he hadn't noticed in the kitchen before. He elbowed Dib, pointing in that direction.
"I didn't see that the first time," Dib says.
"Neither did I." Zim says. Dib scooped up his backpack and started for the door. Zim grabbed him by his collar on his way by, pulling him back and holding him there even as he fall back onto the ground. "NO."
"But—"
"If we're going into a strange door that neither of us remembers was there before then I'M going first," Zim says. Dib pouted at him, trying to wriggle free. "Agreed?"
"UGH, fine! You can go first; but take this with you." Dib handed him a small device with a screen. Zim took it, inspecting it and turning it over. "It's an infrared scanner. You can see things' heat signatures."
Zim flicked his eyes up to Dib, looking utterly unimpressed. He tossed the device back to him. Dib almost dropped it in his scramble to catch it. "Hey!"
"Dib."
"Hey, don't get annoyed with me. I'm trying to help."
"DIB."
Dib scrutinized Zim's very 'are you kidding me' expression. Then, realization hit him. Dib smacked his forehead, flushing red. He could hear Zim lowly snickering at him. "Ohmygod. Christ, oh my GOD."
"You are hopeless." Zim says, patting his head. Dib swatted his hand away. He turned on his heel, pointing the device in front of him.
"JUST—Just tell me if you see anything I don't!" Dib stammers. Zim smirked after him.
"But of course," he boasts, waving his hands theatrically. Dib groaned as he pushed open the mystery door. He paused, staring down the darkened staircase laid out before him. He grimaced, side stepping and presenting the staircase to Zim.
"Aliens first!"
Zim kicks his shin lightly on his way by. Dib kicked his foot, making Zim stumble. Zim whirled on him with a glare. Dib smiled innocently at him. Zim stomped down the stairs, Dib following closely after him. He stopped at the door, rummaging through his bag for one of two battery cases. He set it at the door frame. Zim reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around. The basement was largely empty and covered in roughly half the amount of dust as the main floors. Dib stopped behind him, almost running into Zim, and swung his flashlight around the room.
The room was baren, save for a few boxes and one chair with a drape over it. Zim stepped down onto the concrete, scanning the room. His antenna twitched under his wig. He lifted it just slightly, letting more air and sound into the underside of the cap. Dib slipped out beside him. He looked up to Zim's head, seeing his antennae twitching wildly.
"You hear something?" Dib asks.
"The same faint whispers as before," Zim says. He reset his wig. "But, they're still upstairs."
"So, we should be good to look around a little," Dib surmises. He started off, swinging his flashlight left and right.
"If I'm correct in my assumptions, and I usually am, ghosts don't typically care if we're on the first, second, or sub-level floors. If they want to haunt us, they'll do it," Zim deadpans. Dib swung the flashlight on him with a strained smile.
"Give me SOMETHING to cling to, here," Dib begs. Zim scoffed at him.
"If you are that worried, Dib, you shouldn't be ghost hunting!" Zim says. Dib glowered at him, gaping at the audacity. It was working for Zim, however. He just needed to push a little further. "If you're scared we can go."
"I am not scared."
"Oh?"
"No!"
"Then you are not, in fact, trying to make up excuses to stay with a false sense of safety as opposed to simply taking whatever may come with the equipment that you brought and your own wits in order to continue your hunt?"
Dib stared at him. "You mother—"
"Then we are staying, good." Zim patted him too roughly on the back, pushing Dib off balance. He stumbled forward, catching himself on the wall. Zim walked past him, a light coming from his PAK to scan the room. It was strange seeing it phase through the hologram backpack as it was. The effect looked uncanny in a way.
Zim peered around a corner, finding a long stretch of emptiness between the walls. He cocked an eyebrow and an antennae. He pointed his thumb to it. "Dib, make sense of this."
Dib bent under him, shining his own light down the stretch of space. "I usually see this when there's been some sort of addition to the house. Dad has a similar space in the basement around the storage room."
Dib turned away, casting his light down the expanse of wall. He spotted an old doorknob covered in webs and dust. It almost blended into the wall itself with the layer of dust matching all the colors. Zim peered back down the length of walls. He was scrutinizing it when Dib elbowed him lightly.
"By the way, I didn't know you believed in ghosts."
Zim turned to him, deadpan. "I do not."
"Then why did you try to convince me to stay so badly?" Dib asks, shining his light on the ceiling for any light sources.
"Because if we had left, you would have spoken my antennae off with your theories about what we could have seen, as opposed to what we did or did not. I do not believe in ghosts." Zim says plainly. He crossed his arms, challenging Dib to counter him. Dib took the bait too easily, swinging his light back on Zim.
"Yes, you do!"
"I do not! At least I am not afraid of something I cannot even see." Zim retorts. Dib fumed.
"I AM NOT AFRAID!" Dib shouts. "AND EVEN IF I WAS IT'S ONLY BECAUSE THERE'S NOTHING ELSE IN THIS HOUSE THAT WOULD SCARE ME!"
"OH?" Zim's light bent down to Dib. He shielded his eyes until it disappeared. It took a moment for his eyes to readjust. When he glared back at Zim, the light was under Zim's own face, illuminating his red eyes in the dark a little too well. He opened his mouth to berate Zim for the light and stopped, his face falling. His skin paled and Zim smiled smugly at him. "See? I am still frightening."
Dib shook his head, shaking his light up and down, staring just above Zim's head. Zim turned, face to face with the extra pair of glowing red eyes.
Dib wasn't sure what happened first: his heart stopping or his feet leaving the ground as Zim screamed and snatched him up the staircase. He was fairly certain the latter was going to be the cause for a case of whiplash later. Zim's PAK launched them up the stairs faster than Dib could have ever ran—he really had no business in taking any pleasure out of all the times he had 'outrun' Zim in the past when he had those things out, now that he thought about it—and his back hit the front lawn seconds later. He stared at the stars a moment, his brain catching up to him as Zim ranted something in Irken beside him. Zim's arm was still over his chest and Dib patted it. That earned him a hit to the side for the 'babying' as Zim called it. Dib thought he picked up a few strings of sentences along the lines of 'I do not need this right now' and 'filthy Earth creatures'. Dib sat up. Zim's arm remained on him even as it slid down to pin his legs instead. Zim stayed down and screamed into the grass about his lost pride, most likely.
"That was amazing," Dib whispers.
"IT WAS NOT!" Zim screeches.
"Oh, English again, now?"
"Shut your trap."
"Those floating eyes matched yours almost perfectly!" Dib exclaims.
"They most certainly did not—they could never compare to my eyes—and they were most certainly not floating!" Zim shouts, shoving him away. Dib scrambled to sit up again, brushing the grass from his coat.
"What does that even mean? They were floating in the shadows." Dib says. He held up his other hand, the infrared scanner smashed into disuse. He stared at it a moment before dropping it to the ground. He didn't know how to fix it. It was a loss. Zim, meanwhile, was pointing accusingly at the house.
"THAT BEAST WAS NOT MADE OF SHADOWS, THAT MUCH I AM SURE!"
"Stop screaming, you're going to make me deaf," Dib pleaded.
"Your inferior eyes are going to be the death of you," Zim says. He pulled Dib up with him, yanking him to the sidewalk. "We are not returning there."
"Zim, ghosts can't actually hurt people. It rarely happens." Dib assures him. He slung his arm around Zim's shoulders, swaying so that they faced the house once more. "They can't barely manifest."
"That hulking figure did not look as if it was 'barely' manifested," Zim mumbles. Dib sighed, leaning into him.
"Christ, what did you see, anyway?" he asks.
"A hulking mass. Pay attention, Dib." Zim says. Dib groaned loudly. Zim smirked, having had his fun. "I saw its heat signature, mostly. It was very large. Like a gorilla."
"Well, that certainly wasn't a person, then."
"You don't say."
"Well, that settles it. I'm calling in back up." Dib says. He pulled his phone out, scrolling through his messages. Zim turned his head to him slowly, aghast.
"You are truly insane."
"It's not a big deal—"
"You are PSYCHOTIC."
"That is not the proper use of the term—HEY! Abed!" Dib caught himself as Zim shoved him off. He leaned on the fence, smirking at Zim's fuming face. "I have a proposition for the Investigators Club. …Yes, I know the year is over… yes, I know we're not a sanctioned club—yes, we graduated—do you want to go into the haunted house on Cherry Street or not? … … GREAT, I'll see you here tomorrow night."
Dib clacked the phone shut and Zim glowered at him.
"What?" he asks innocently.
"I despise you."
"Love you, too."
"DO NOT THINK YOU CAN JUST—"
"You know you're going to pay for this, right?" Dib asks, shoving the infrared device in Zim's face. Zim smacked it away back into the grass.
"I am not partaking in this any longer," Zim says, crossing his arms. Dib hummed, scrutinizing him.
"Yeah you are. What, you think Abed or anyone else can get me out of that house that fast?" Dib asks. Zim hated to admit he had a point. He sighed heavily, slouching comically over the fence. Dib patted his back. "There, there."
Dib hadn't slept well the remainder of the night. Zim stayed upstairs just to be sure he would sleep, and yet Dib was too excited to. He didn't pass out until the sun had already risen. Dib had been adamant that it would actually be an advantage for the ghost hunt that night as he wouldn't be tired. Zim disagreed, but no amount of logical thinking would pierce Dib's hearing.
Dib laid in bed and turned over with a hum. He was too warm to leave just yet. He heard Gaz in the kitchen and he figured it must be well past noon, if not time for dinner. He cracked an eye open, seeing green and maroon hunched in front of his closet. He grabbed his glasses and the image of Zim hunched over one of his trench coats with a needle and thread.
"Zim?"
Zim jerked his head up with eyes almost popping out of his head. He threw Dib's coat back into the closet and kicked the door shut. The thread poked out of the door between it and the frame, the spool trailing on the floor. Dib stared at the spectacle, his eyes flitting back and forth between Zim's dark face and the closet door.
"That wasn't suspicious," he says, kicking off his covers.
"It is nothing." Zim says hastily. He flicked his eyes between Dib and the closet and set his foot against the door. "Nothing at all."
"…You're terrible at this."
Dib darted for the door, quick enough to get his hand on the handle before Zim screeched and grabbed his arm. Dib buckled under his weight, Zim holding onto his arm like Gir when he was trying to use his arm as a swing, side stepping into his door. Zim scrambled onto his back, hooking arms and legs around his torso.
"ACK! Zim!"
"It isn't your concern!"
"It is with you acting like this!" Dib shouted. He balanced himself, moving towards the door again. Zim dropped off him, grabbing him around his torso and lifting him up until his feet had left the floor.
"No!"
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"It's… uh—it's your birthday gift!"
"Zim my birthday is almost a full year away," Dib says, starting to thrash. Zim held him tighter.
"Ok! Its not your birthday gift, but it IS a gift, so don't look!" Zim pleaded. Dib sighed, going slack. He hadn't been able to get Zim to plea or beg for anything almost a decade and NOW he finally relents over a small gift. Dib, if he'd been younger and more impulsive, would have thrown a fit.
"Okay, but only if you let me down." He says instead.
Zim eyed him a long moment. Long enough Dib started to suspect that he wasn't going to comply when gravity suddenly took over and they were both on the floor. Dib landed with a thud on his side, Zim still hugging him. One of his PAK legs extended to pull Dib's blanket off the bed and over them. It was haphazard and didn't even cover either of them to their calves.
"You can stay here and warm us both up." Zim says. Dib felt him press his face between his shoulder blades. Dib elbowed him in the ribs. Zim coughed, letting him go enough that Dib could sit up.
"I slept long enough, space boy." Dib looked at his closet. Zim threw the blanket at the back of his head. "How am I going to change?"
Zim grabbed the jacket off Dib's chair, a shirt already accompanying it, throwing that too. Dib caught it, glancing back at him. He'd already thought of that, then.
"Are you going to go in your new disguise?" Dib asks.
"Why would I not?"
"Aren't they going to notice you're not green anymore? And have a full face?"
"Oh. I have that handled. Do not worry your big head," Zim assures him. He hopped up, disappearing out Dib's door. Dib watched him go, feeling no more assured than he had when he first asked.
Dib met Zim back downstairs within twenty minutes. Gaz was playing one of her games in the living room, headphones on, pizza at her feet on the coffee table. Zim tilted his head back, looking over the couch, disguise already on. He had a sugar stick in his mouth. He held up one hand, holding the sugar packet to dip the stick in, and waved. Dib poked him in the forehead on his way by. He grabbed some of the pizza and sat down on Zim's other side. Gaz was winning her PvP match by a landslide.
"You ready to go when you're done eating?" Zim asks.
"Yep. I'm packed and ready to go," Dib says. He eyed Zim's sugar stick. It wasn't any by any human manufacturer as far as he could tell. If he was anything like the candy Zim had given him before, he'd have to snatch a few to try out. "You're still coming with? Even though it's a 'demon' house?"
"You will die if I do not," Zim says flatly. Dib scoffed in mock offense. He downed the last of his pizza and made for a grab at Zim's sugar stick. Zim turned his head, using his arm to keep Dib's grabby hand away. Dib watched the stick move even further from him, Zim's tongue curled around it.
"EUGH!" Dib lurched away in disgust. Zim chuckled, taking the stick back into his hand.
"Serves you right."
"That was awesome and disgusting," Gaz says, pulling her headphones down. Zim jerked his head in her direction. "Do it again."
"Wh—"
Dib swiped the sugar stick, popping it in his mouth. Zim looked at him horror. Dib smiled, nodding his approval. Zim gaped at him as Gaz laughed. He whirled on them both.
"You planned that!" he screeches.
"Nope." Gaz readjusted her headset. "That's just siblings."
Knocking came at the door. Dib jumped off the couch, leaving Zim to whine to Gaz fruitlessly. He swung it open, Abed and Eric standing at the stoop. Eric was carrying a large duffel bag with a green alien patch over the front.
"Are you ready?!" Eric asks excitedly. He was almost bouncing on his heels. Dib grabbed his backpack from the wall with a smile. Zim hopped over the couch and followed him out the door.
"Don't go joining any ghosts!" Gaz shouted after them. Zim pulled the door shut with a glower.
"She's always so thoughtful…" Abed mumbles. He shook it off and led them away to his truck. "Anyway… notice anything different about the truck?"
Zim eyed the rooftop. The dent was suspiciously absent. He knew Dib must have noticed it, too. Regardless, Dib pretended he didn't and shrugged. Abed blinked at him once. "Let me guess. A branch fell on it."
"Sure."
"Christ Almighty, Dib, if you manage to damage the truck—again—on a ghost hunt, I'll be impressed."
"Thanks, Daren, I love the vote of confidence," Dib grumbled. He threw his bag into the back of the truck and climbed in after it. Zim hopped in after him. Eric struggled to climb over the edge. Zim pulled him in by his sweater.
"Thanks," Eric mumbles. He sat up, tilting his head at Zim. "You look different."
"Yeah, that's observant," Daren shoots out the back window. Abed started down the road, choosing not to question anything around him. Eric shot him a glare. He turned back to Zim. "No, seriously. You have an actual face—"
"WOW."
"SHUT UP, DAREN, YOU WERE THINKING IT!" Eric shouted. Daren whirled around.
"OI, I can be an ass, but I'm not that much of an ass," he shoots back. Zim glanced at Dib, catching the panic on his face.
"Plastic surgery," Zim says plainly. Dib looked at him like he'd lost his mind. It took a moment, until realization dawned on him, and he had to hide a proud smile.
"Surgery?" Eric parrots. Zim nodded.
"You haven't seen me since graduation, yes? How does it look?" Zim asks, pulling his hood down. Eric scrutinized it, bending around Zim this way and that until Abed hit a pothole and he fell to the truck bed. He sat up, patting down his sweater.
"Looks immaculate," he says. Daren peered through the back window.
"Your skin isn't green anymore, either." He says.
"Medications." Zim says coolly. Daren nodded. He narrowed his eyes and flicked an accusatory finger at him.
"And the eyes?" he asks. Dib's heart sank. If there was one thing he hadn't thought of an excuse for it was Zim's new vampire eyes. He looked at Zim, seeing a confident smile spread across his face.
"Ocular albinism. I wore contacts. Would YOU want vampire jokes all through middle school and beyond?" Zim asks. "Chunk would have never stopped."
Eric groaned, leaning back into the truck's wall. "He would have made it torturous."
"Fair enough," Daren relents, turning back around. He tilted his head back again. "You got a lot of shit wrong with you, don't ya?"
"DAREN." Dib reached through the window, smacking his shoulder. "C'mon."
"And yet, I look fantastic," Zim says smugly. Dib smirked, elbowing him lightly. Abed stopped the truck outside the house and hopped out. They all gathered in the front.
"Okay, so, when we were here last—"
"No fair!"
"—Zim and I got stuck in the upstairs room and found a weird memento box. Then in the basement saw some red glowing eyes." Dib says. He pulled his flashlight out, flicking it on. "It was… it was about 2:30, wasn't it?"
"Thanks to your dumb ass acting on a whim," Zim retorts. Dib ignored him. Abed eyed the second story.
"You said you found a box upstairs?" he asks.
"Yeah, but it was all junk. A doll and some loose fabric," Dib says. He looked up at the house, spying the door suspiciously. He started forward, leading them all inside. A few more flashlights flicked on.
Daren started to the stairs. Zim flicked his antennae around, trying to sparce out any sounds. He heard nothing, nodding to Dib as he followed Daren up the stairs. Dib showed them the room, holding the door open as Zim pulled the box out from the closet. Dib looked around at the window, stopping and staring at it. It was unbroken, sitting in the frame.
He raced over to it, almost knocking Eric over in his haste. He peered down, spotting the broken glass in the grass. He tapped the window, the 'tap, tap, tap' ringing out over the room. Zim's head whipped around at it. Abed opened the box, pulling out piles of fabric and the doll. He turned it over and tossed it to Daren. Daren did the same. Zim slipped past them both, leaning as casually as he could muster against the door frame to block it from shutting.
"It just looks like a doll," he says.
"They always do unless they're exceptionally creepy," Eric pipes in, shining his flashlight down onto the doll.
"Well, that's a good point," Daren relents. He tossed it back to Abed.
"See? It's all junk," Dib says. Abed turned the fabrics over in his hands.
"These are all torn pieces, and there's blood on a few of them," Abed says. Dib looked at the box.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Blood," Zim repeats.
"I HEARD HIM," Dib says.
Abed picked the box up, heading for the door. Zim's antennae flicked, picking up the same giggling as before. He waved the others out. Dib slipped past him and poked his head into each room as they passed.
"It was more active last time," Dib says.
He looked over the living room from above. He paused, setting up his tripod as the ground headed down. Zim paused at the top of the stairs, staring suspiciously down the hallway. Dib refrained from mentioning he looked like a guard dog. He turned it on, the white dots covering the living room. He looked at the screen, spying one stick figure move into frame jerkily. It stopped moving when Abed hit the bottom of the stairs. Zim flicked his eyes to the bottom floor. Abed set the box down at the front door and peered around to the kitchen.
"There's one in the living room," Zim says. Just as he thought, all three started to ask questions. Eric was the only one with the forethought to whip out his recorder. Zim looked back at Dib, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "They'll want in the basement?"
"Always," Dib whispers back. He pulled out a water gun and a rosary from his pockets. Zim bit back a hiss at the sight of the water gun. "Calm down, it's holy water."
"It is still WATER," Zim seethes. Dib gave him a 'look' and Zim pouted.
"It's not for you, it's for the demon. If there is a demon," Dib says.
"Sounding pretty sure about that," Zim says plainly.
Dib stuck his tongue out at him on his way down. Daren toed the box out of the doorway. Zim paused halfway down the stairs, his antennae twitching at the sound of a low growl from the hallway. He tentatively pushed Dib faster down the stairs.
"I heard if you burn these kinds of things, the set the spirits haunting them free." Daren says. Abed hummed.
"Expand upon your definition of 'things'," Abed says. Eric meandered into the kitchen. Dib leaned close to Zim.
"Watch him."
"I'm watching you."
"Zim."
"He is not my concern."
"Dude."
Zim grumbled, moving reluctantly into the kitchen. Eric was peering under the table and into the cabinets. Zim flicked his eyes towards the basement door. He doubted it mattered if they went down or not. He doubted it very much given the localization of the latest growl. And yet, as he pretended to find interest in the piles of dust, Eric opened the door and peered down the stairs.
"I found the basement!" he announced proudly.
"You shut that door right now," Daren ordered. "I ain't dying by demons today."
"That's only in movies…" Eric grumbles, letting the door swing shut. Zim kicked it shut the entire way when it started to slowly swing back open. He spotted the eyes at the top of the stairs, staring down at them. Zim elbowed Dib, snaking his arm around to cover his mouth when he looked up the stairs. Dib looked panicked.
"I do not think it will move," Zim whispers. "I am going to check something. Do not die."
"Don't say that!" Dib whispers back at him.
He kept his eyes on the stairs, Eric and Daren stuck debating if they should burn the box, and Abed firing question after question at the ghost in the living room. Dib wondered if it was still there; but knew he wasn't going to be running up the stairs to check any time soon. Zim backed hastily to the basement door, slipping inside and down the stairs. He looked around, his PAK producing a light and his gaze landed on the hidden door that Dib had spotted. He stomped over to it. Eric rummaged through his backpack for matches. Daren and Abed had moved outside, Daren dumbing the box onto the driveway. Dib stood in the doorway, nervously looking at the basement door for Zim.
"So, you just burn it?" Abed asks.
"Yeah, that's the gist of it," Daren says. Eric tossed him the matches. "Dib! C'mon, we're having a bonfire."
"Where's Zim?" Eric asks. Abed leaned up, glancing over to where Dib was standing awkwardly in the doorway.
"He went exploring." Dib says. He swung his flashlight towards them, taking his eyes off the red orbs at the stairs for the first time.
"Where?"
"He went—" The door slammed shut, shoving Dib away and off the porch onto the sidewalk. Eric scrambled over to him.
"Are you ok?!"
"Ow…" Dib held his head, feeling a throbbing pain starting. He sat up. "Where did my glasses go?"
"I got them. They're kinda broken, though, sorry." Eric handed them over.
Dib held them up to the moonlight. A defined crack was spread across both lenses. He put them on regardless, sprinting back up to the door. Abed joined him, pushing on the handle. The door didn't budge. Abed tried to shoulder it open, yielding equally fruitless results.
"That's no good. You said Zim was still in there?" he asks.
"He is still in there because he's not out here. And I have the water gun…" Dib says. He eyed the window. "Got a bat?"
"Okay, no vandalism." Abed says, turning Dib's gaze away from the truck. "Eric, can you lock pick?"
"What do you take me for?" Eric asks. Daren started trying to light matches.
Zim tugged on the handle. It dislodged, coming out squarely into his palm. He stared at it, dumbfounded for a moment, before he tossed it behind him and simply kicked at the door instead. It didn't budge initially, rattling in its frame instead. Zim kicked it again, earning a similar result.
His antennae twitched at sounds disappearing upstairs. He double checked he was alone and stepped back. His PAK stabbed at it with two of the limbs. They repeated the motion until he'd had a hole carved out large enough for him to peer through. He bent over, looking in, his eyes straining against the dark. He broke away most of the door, stepping through the hole and peering around with the PAK light.
Zim heard a door upstairs slam and then silence. A chill started up his spine. He knew for a fact at least Eric would have screamed at that, and Dib would have started shouting mostly empty threats at whatever would have done the deed. Zim stepped to the wall, pressing his arm against it and straining his antennae to hear. He flicked his eyes around, his PAK shifting focus to noise, as he looked around the room. He flicked his light off once he'd gotten a good base look at it. It was much like a living room, with an old couch and set of chairs and a coffee table. The table had collapsed under its own wood rot—Zim could smell it—and was at a tilt. The couch looked to have a dip in it for possibly the same reason. Zim heard something shuffling around outside the room. He backed away from the door.
A shadowy form looked inside, careening its head slowly for anything amiss. Zim raised his PAKs leg and paused. If what Dib always said was correct, and ghosts or apparitions were intangible, his PAK would be effectively useless. He looked around frantically. The red eyes of the shadowy figure stopped on him and Zim stared back at it. It tilted its head at him. Zim was making full eye contact and wondered idly if it was focused on his eyes for their color. He doubted it; he was fairly certain that he just shouldn't look away. It felt like if he did he'd be giving it an opening it was waiting for.
Zim instead started to back further into the room. Two of his PAKs legs were tapping the area behind him for any obstacle. The shadowy figure crawled through the hole, its body's shape unclear and moving jerkily and broken. Zim almost stumbled on a fold of the rug. His stumble was short-lived, he found his footing and reconnection of eye contact almost instantly, but the thing before him took the tiny opening and lunged. Zim's PAK launched him up and to the left, away from its lunge. Zim hit the ground and ran to the door. He dove through the hole, feeling something scrape the tail of his jacket.
He turned, shoving a box in the way of the door opening. The long and scraggly hand that had reached for him pulled back into the room. The red eyes stared at him. A loud growl came from the figure. Zim kept his eye contact, as he lifted another box to block the creature's sight of him. He shoved the box in the way of it and held it there a moment. The growling stopped. Zim twitched his antennae. He peered around the box to where he could see through a very small break between box and wall. The figure was no longer there where he could see it.
He took one last step forward. He regretted it immediately. A clawed hand shot out, catching his arm. He yanked away, his sleeve tearing apart. He felt the scratch, blood starting to well up before he staunch the flow. Zim wrenched himself free and darted for the stairs. He paused at the bottom, inspecting his arm. The sleeve wasn't totally severed, but his blood was seeping down his arm from the scratches on his arm. The wound was already closing; but, he wasn't dumb enough to not try and hide the unusual color. He finished tearing off the remainder of the sleeve and wiped the blood back towards his scratches. He wrapped it around, stain on his arm, and tied it off.
He couldn't see anyone at the top of the stairs or hear anyone in the house. He was going to kill them all for leaving him in there. He used his PAK to climb the stairs quicker than he could have run up. And he'd seen in plenty of the horror movies that Dib had shown him in their marathons the characters betting tripped up on the steps. He was not going to die by that ridiculous scenario. He reached the door and dropped into the kitchen. He spotted Daren and Abed outside. Daren was trying to use a lighter, and Zim could very faintly hear him swearing at it. He looked back to the basement door. The red eyes were flying up the staircase.
Zim swore, unsure if it was Irken or English, and threw the table at the door. It crashed into the frame, splintering before breaking apart. Dib dashed to the window, looking inside through the grime. Zim glared venomously at him as he ran to the front door. Dib looked panicked. He caught sight of the figure and paled. Eric was jiggling the handle frantically and uselessly.
"That's not how you pick a lock!" Dib screamed.
"WELL HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?!" Eric shouted back. Zim would have laughed because he knew Dib didn't know how to pick a lock—he broke locks.
Zim instead braced his foot on the door, kicking it once. It didn't budge and pain bloomed up his leg. He bit his lip, holding back a strained groan of pain. His PAK numbed it. Zim groaned. It was the guest room door all over again. He was going to burn this house to the ground if he had anything to say about it. The 'no vandalism' clause be damned, he was burning it down to ash. Zim ran to the banister of the second floor. He double checked that Eric was too busy with the door to see him before he jumped up, catching the banister and hoisting himself over it. He looked at the screen of the device Dib had set up. Two jerky figures were in the frame.
The first was backing away from the second. Zim glanced up to see the shadowy figure as the second figure. The first disappeared from the frame as the shadowy figure moved further into the frame. Zim took the device up. He wasn't going to leave it and he certainly wasn't going to let the other figure in the house out of his metaphorical sight. He paused at the top of the stairs, watching both figures on the camera. He heard something creaking in the hallway. He turned to see the doors to several rooms opening slowly. Zim turned the device around. Jerky figures were in the doors and Zim studied them. More than one looked like they were hiding behind the doorways.
Zim stepped up onto the banister, keeping the device trained on the hallway. He couldn't track the ghostly figures from both sides. He could see the figure he was most concerned about; so, numbers took precedent. Zim balanced on the railing and flicked his gaze towards the door. Dib was trying to kick it down and Zim just knew his legs had to hurt. Zim watched the red eyed figure stop halfway up the stairs. He watched it warily. He was going to damned if he was going to be caught by THAT thing after losing his base to humans he couldn't even injure as badly as he had wanted to. Dib was lucky he held such influence over the decision.
Zim caught a small light from through the kitchen window and the figure started to jerk painfully. It started to growl and then roar as if flailed. Zim took the opportunity to hop down. He grabbed the back of one of the only remaining chairs. He hefted it up, arcing it over his shoulder and throwing it through the front window. The resounding crash was loud—louder than Zim would have given it credit for—and he climbed through, nearly getting his foot snatched by a hole-filled shadowy hand.
Zim hopped away on his one foot, screaming curses in Irken and promising its soon to be fiery demise. Eric and Dib watched him. Eric was focused more on the strange sounds leaving Zim's mouth and Dib was staring wide-eyed at the creativity of the swearing. Zim huff, giving the house one last kick before turning to them.
"What?!" Zim screeched.
"Where are you from again?" Eric asks. Dib smacked his arm. He then rushed up to Zim, bending around to inspect him.
"Are you okay?!" Dib asks. He spotted the device and paused. "Did… did you seriously take the time to grab that?"
"I was not about to let you leave it in there AGAIN," Zim says, shoving it into Dib's arms.
Zim gave the house one last kick, looking satisfied down at the figure as it dissipated into the air. He glanced, almost as an afterthought, down to the device's screen at the figures in the house only to find them all gone. Zim looked around Dib and Eric to Daren, who was warming his hands on the burning box. He waved his hand towards them.
"Daren said burning the box would 'purge' the house. Release the ghosts." Eric says. He looked Zim up and down. "Did it work?"
Zim stared at them all blankly. He trudged down the steps. Dib watched him go. He followed after him, Eric following up the rear.
"Zim?"
Zim paused at Daren and Abed. He swiped the matches from Abed's hand and turned back towards the house, slipping around Dib and Eric.
"Um… Zim?" Dib asks. He caught Zim trying to light a match. He dropped the device, racing towards Zim and jumping on his back. "No! Zim, no, no, no! I'm not going down for arson!"
"Get off! That thing is burning!" Zim screeched, stumbling to keep his balance. Eric ran over, stopping short and unsure how or if he should intervene.
"ZIM!"
Abed watched the display almost amusedly. He looked down at the box and sighed. "Well, I think it worked, though."
"Of course, I'm always right," Daren says. He looked at the comical display. Dib had managed to knock the matches out of Zim's hand and was looking more like a very energetic back pack. "Should probably do something about him."
"Zim or Dib?"
"Yes."
Abed sighed, walking up to the two and prying Dib off Zim. Dib whined something about Abed being a 'traitor'. Abed smirked at him, stepping on the matches so Zim couldn't snatch them in his anger, and dropped Dib on his back to the grass. "Next time, don't dent my truck."
Zim laughed harshly once. Dib glowered at him and stood. He grabbed his device and started to dismantle it to fit back into his backpack. Abed snapped his fingers. "Alright, anyone going home with me to check the recordings all aboard!"
Dib gave him a high five as he passed. "I'll just walk. I need to calm down."
"I'll call you later if we got anything," Abed says. He gave Zim a high five on his way by. He politely ignored the confused expression. Zim joined Dib at the sidewalk as they all climbed into the truck. "You good handling that little blaze there?"
Dib turned to it and shrugged. "It's almost out anyway."
"Alright, then. I'll see you later." Abed waved them goodbye as he started down the street. Eric gave them a thumbs up as he passed. Zim caught Daren shoot them a finger gun.
He watched them take the turn and looked to Dib. He was standing at the box, kicking it to introduce oxygen for a fresh plume of flame. The flame died down quickly, though. Zim joined him, feeling sore now that his adrenaline was ebbing away. He watched the embers of the box's contents smolder. The box itself was only half remaining.
"I hate this planet," Zim grumbles. Dib cocked an eyebrow at him. "These things actually exist."
"That's ironic coming from you," Dib says. Zim kicks his foot lightly.