I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE, MATES
I know it's been a hot minute since the last update, and even longer since we've been to this setting, but we're back babyyyyyy! Warning for this chapter, there is blood mentioned, so if you dislike that sort of content, fair warning.
Enjoy!
Part 70: Space Market—Fight Club Edition
Dib tossed the stress ball up to the ceiling, trying and failing to knock down any one of the glow in the dark stars or planets. Zim had been stuck in his labs since Skoodge had left, working nonstop, and only reemerging when he needed a break. Which was to say when The Computer forced him to take one by physically dragging him to the elevator. It had only happened a handful of times over almost a week, but Dib was silently grateful that The Computer was doing that job. He knew he couldn't pull Zim away from that workshop if Zim really didn't want to leave.
Pak legs aside, the alien was strong enough that if he planted his feet, it would be like trying to push a statue. And while Dib had been casually working out to increase his stamina and strength (mostly to keep in shape for hunts) he laughed at the thought of actually matching Zim when the alien put his mind to it. Pre-Pak, at least. He really had to ask Gaz about her workout routine, some time. The girl could drop a biker three times her size—he'd seen it one fateful day in high school when they were downtown—and he could still remember the bludgeoning from the Space Market.
He heard the lock on the front door and caught the stress ball, pausing to listen. The door opened and some footsteps came in. At the slam of it, Dib smirked and sat up. He abandoned the stress ball as he entered the hall, waving at Gaz as she shrugged off her jacket.
"Where's the bug?" she asks.
"He's in the lab," Dib says, opening the linen closet. Gaz sauntered over, tapping her foot as they rode the elevator down. "Did you bring the collar?"
"Can't he make a translator that isn't fetish gear?" Gaz groans. Dib snorted, almost choking, leaning against the wall of the elevator.
"Oh my god, Gaz!"
"What? That's what it looks like."
"Do not call it that. Please. I can't explain to him what a fetish is, I would actually die," Dib begged. Gaz got an evil glint in her eyes. "Gaz, I will literally pay you not to say that word."
"How much are we talking?"
"Gaz."
"Make it a hundred," The Computer chimed in. Gaz snapped a finger gun up at the ceiling.
"This one gets it," she says. The elevator stopped and Dib stumbled out after her. "Damn computer knows how this works better than you."
"Please tell me he doesn't know what that word means!" Dib shouted up at the ceiling.
"He had access to your global internet the night we landed, what do you think?" The Computer asks. Dib leaned against the wall, defeated, his forehead propping him up.
"You could have at least let him pay me first," Gaz grumbled. Dib shot her a glare. She simply shrugged, moving towards the main lab. Before either sibling had reached the door, they could see the random pieces of parts and scraps strewn outside the doorway.
"Master, Mary is here!" Gir's shrill voice sounded from the lab. The robot itself came zooming out of the lab, latching right onto Gaz's leg. Gaz hardly paused in her step, only stumbling a little from Gir's momentum.
"Oh, what, I don't get an introduction?" Gaz asks.
"Oh! I'm sorry! Umm…." Gir hummed.
He stayed clutched to Gaz's shin like a koala, putting some serious thought into her personal nickname. Gaz entered the lab, kicking scrap out of the way, trying to come to terms with the fact Gir had at some point learned an actual appropriate-ish situation to apologize for. She wasn't sure when that had happened, or that Gir could actually learn something long term, but in her defense she'd say she hadn't interacted with him much before these last few years. Aside from recent events, the last notable interaction was when Tak had tried to destroy Earth—somehow with a plan more comically villainous and stupid than something Zim could have conceived and yet she'd almost done it—when he'd gotten her to dance. Gaz clicked her tongue at the memory. She sometimes wondered if she should have just let Tak win and then stolen Zim's ship and ditched Earth. She did have more pros than cons these days, though, so she figured she had made the right choice.
Dib wasn't far behind her, picking up an old microchip and inspecting it, almost tripping over the very scraps Gaz was kicking out of her way.
"Zim, are you ready to go?" Dib asks. He tossed the microchip aside, looking over the lab's mess. He'd admit he hadn't been down in a while, but he hadn't thought that Zim would let it get so bad that half the floor wasn't visible. "Uh… at all?"
"I'm always ready to go," Zim says. Despite the claim, he grabbed the hanging welder to work further on the Pak in front of him. To his right, propped against the walls, were the customized coverings Gaz and Dib had requested. The bevels of Gaz's skull design were even still cooling.
"If you're going to lie, at least be convincing," Gaz says, bodily shoving a massive tub of wiring and plating out of her way. "Could you be more of a slob in here?!"
"Huh?" Zim looked up, seemingly taking in the lab for the first time. His antennae twitched and he shrank a little into his shoulders. "Oh."
"He's been hyper-focused since he entered." The Computer explained. Dib gaped at Zim, dragging a hand down his face.
"Zim's it's been two days!"
"I was busy! Don't judge me, you spent three days on that last research essay!" Zim shouted, throwing a cluster of wires at Dib's face. Dib caught them, tossing them aside. Pak legs and Irken strength be damned, he was getting Zim out of that chair.
"Hey! No! Release me, I have to finish!" Zim screeched, digging his claws into the surface of the table.
Since it was bolted to the wall, Dib couldn't drag it with them, leaving him to tug at Zim's torso instead. Without the Pak legs to give him the best leverage, Zim had made the mistake of sitting on a stool rather than a rolling chair. If he'd taken the chair, he could at least have kicked it to roll away and plant his feet with no issue. With the stool he risked his feet getting tangled and giving Dib more of an upper hand. Dib had to have had the same idea, because the next thing Zim knew, the boy was kicking the stool away and had changed to tugging on Zim's ankles instead.
"Zim, you promised we'd go today!" Dib shouted. Gir was laughing at the scene. "Gir, a little help!"
"No!" Gir giggled, partially hiding behind Gaz's shin.
"Traitor!"
"Zim, you need a break!" Dib says. "We can pick up parts you need! You need parts, right?"
"You're just hoping I do," Zim spat.
"No shit, but I'm right!"
"ARGH!" Zim let go of the table, leaving long claw marks on the surface, and let himself fall to the ground. Dib wasn't far after him, the surprise lack of resistance sending him careening. Zim groaned into the floor. Dib was, annoyingly, right in his assumptions. Zim could get most of the Paks done as he was now, but he was missing a few key components for the longevity affects to actually work. "Fine…"
"Don't complain," Gaz says, lightly kicking his side. "You planned for it to be today."
"Don't badger me!"
"Don't be a dick, let's go already!"
Gaz snatched up Dib's sleeve and Zim's ankle, dragging them both out via the pathway she'd forged. Gir giggled incessantly at her shin, patting Dib's hair spike like it was a pet. With his closest arm being gripped like it was in a vice, he could only half-heartedly swat at Gir's hand. Gaz didn't drop them until they were at the elevator entrance. Zim was first to stand, glowering at her as she ignored his gaze and hit the button.
"It was that or I clocked you in the jaw instead," Gaz says.
"Fair point," Zim grumbled. He grabbed Gir, forcibly unlatching him from Gaz's leg. Gir whined, trying to cling to her jeans. "Gir. Take the time we're gone to figure out Gaz's name."
"You could hear that entire exchange?" Dib asks. He leaned on the elevator wall as it rose through to the lift off hatch. "We were down the hall, and you were around loud tools."
"Get used to that level of hearing when your Pak is done," Zim said smugly. "You'll finally suffer with me with the wretched lawn mowers."
"…damn it," Dib whispered.
"They're going to affect our ears?" Gaz asks. "How does that work?"
"They'll be attached to your spines—"
"EUGH!"
Zim smacked Dib harshly in the arm. "Silence!" he turned back to Gaz, holding Dib back one handed. "They'll be attached to your spines, so it'll effect all of your systems. I need them to be thought controlled, so there will be secondary effects such as this."
"That… Zim that isn't how our hearing works," Gaz says.
"What do you mean?"
"Do Irkens' ears—uh… antennae—work through your brains? You don't have anything like an ear drum?" Gaz asks. Dib stopped trying to retaliate against Zim's own strength to fall loosely on his hand instead, leaving Zim to prop him up, as he gaped dumbfounded at the Irken. The suspiciously silent Irken.
"Zim?" Dib asks incredulously.
"I studied your spines and nervous system, not your ears!" Zim proclaimed, retracting his hand and letting Dib faceplant. The elevator door opened and Zim stomped out. Dib looked up at him, still baffled, before scrambling after him and Gaz to the Voot.
"I thought you were studying human anatomy for the past, like, decade!"
"Why would I care about your hearing, Dib-stink?" Zim spits back, he opened the hatch, using his PAK to climb inside. He lifted Gaz inside first.
"Because it can be just as incapacitating as it can be for you, dumbass," Gaz points out, poking Zim roughly in the side once she'd settled. He swatted her away as he lifted Dib in next.
"Gir!"
"Yes, Master?"
"Stay here, guard the base," Zim ordered. Gir saluted, eyes red.
"Yessir!" he said. The moment was almost immediately gone as Gir giggled, hitting a button on the elevator panel and lowering out of sight. Zim paused, turning to the ceiling.
"Computer?"
"I'll keep him from destroying the base."
"So, speaking of these PAKs," Gaz begins, "Are they going to tear out my organs or some shit if they get torn off in a freak accident or something?"
"Not attached to any organs," Zim reminded her. He paused, lifting the Voot through the opening hatch and blasting off into the sky faster than anyone could see him leave, just in case any neighbors had been home. Once they were leveled out and leaving the atmosphere, he was satisfied to continue. "So, no. It auto-detaches from the spine if it recognizes a certain amount of strain on the PAK's attachment. It's a safety feature to keep the PAK from ripping out our own spines."
Gaz gave a disgusted grimace. "Ew."
"Wait, what if you can't reattach it in the time limit?" Dib asks.
"We die. Though, if there's anything that can forcibly remove it, we may be facing death regardless, so," Zim shrugged. "Irkens are not immortal, nor invincible. We're aware of that fact."
"So, then, could falling down a cliff face and getting it snagged on something do the trick?" Gaz asks.
"What are you planning to do?" Zim asks, turning to the two sharply. "Are you going to fall in such a way that snags can get under your PAK?"
"Well… when you put it that way it does sound dumb," Gaz sighed angrily. She huffed, leaning roughly backward to the Voot wall. She perked back up almost immediately, however. "Wait, what if we fall on it?"
"I doubt that you will fall far enough to shatter the protective shell," Zim admitted. "If you are, you'll die on impact regardless. The alloy is extremely durable."
"Is it going to destroy my spine?" Dib asks grimly.
"The PAK will repair the spine," Zim says nonchalantly. "It would take… an hour or so?"
"Zim, why do you have a timetable for that just… offhand?" Dib asks. Zim was silent a moment. He shrugged, turning back to the controls.
"Personal experience."
"What the fuck kind of experience was that?!" Gaz shouts.
"Some of the inventions we would create were rather large, or raised from the floor," Zim says. "It happened only once. Usually, the PAK will release the leg attachments and catch you. An electric shock prevented the response just long enough."
"Wow, you could have actually died, then?" Gaz asks.
"Doubtful," Zim says, off-handedly. He leaned back in the chair as the Voot auto-piloted towards the Market.
The Voot took a much closer spot to the entrance than before, much to both Dib and Gaz's relief. Zim rummaged through one of the hidden cabinets of the Voot while the two disembarked. He came out with a second translator collar, throwing it at Dib. Dib scrambled to catch it, almost dropping the collar.
"I'm not taking time to translate everything while we're here," Zim says. "Deal with the collar until you get your PAK."
"Kinky," Gaz whispers with a smirk. Dib smacked her arm before he knew what he was doing. He caught his breath, waiting for her to hit him back, but she just smirked wider at him. Zim was looking at her, exasperated, and already tired. Gaz shrugged, clicking her collar on and largely hiding it under the collar of her sweatshirt. "Even I'll admit I deserved that one."
"By Irk, she's improving," Zim teased. Gaz took a swing at his leg with her bat. Zim easily jumped out of the way, laughing as she chased him towards the entrance. Easily, given he was using his PAK's legs.
By the time Zim had let his own feet hit the asphalt again, Gaz was dragging the bat behind her with a scowl on her face. She pushed past Zim to the nearest doorway, slamming the bat down on the conveyor belt. The attendant gave her, what she assumed could be, a confused look at the bat.
"It's a cane," she spat, stomping through the screening process. Dib gaped at her as she did. Zim hummed beside him.
"They'll let it through regardless," he says.
"Why?"
"Would you deny someone looking that angry?" Zim asks.
"…Fair point," Dib mumbled. He sidled through the screening entrances behind Zim. The attendant was just as wary of Zim as they had been their previous visit. Once inside, Dib stayed close to Zim.
"Alright, bye," Gaz turned on her heel, walking away.
"Wh—bye?" Dib grasped Gaz's sleeve, holding her in place.
"I'm taking a personal tour," Gaz says. "I'll see you here in like two hours."
Zim took Dib's hand from Gaz's sleeve, waving her away. "Two hours, got it."
Gaz sauntered off, lightly tapping the bat on her shoulder. The market stalls surrounding her were different than the one she'd seen their previous visit. She recognized exactly one stall vendor. The streets, aside from the first block or so from the entrance, also had shifted. Gaz hummed to herself, trying to find something that would catch her eye. She couldn't see any technology that she could easily recognize, even with how she'd been studying the tech in Zim's labs. Dissecting each item to discern what it was she was looking at was left up to utter guesswork.
She wasn't keen on risking blowing her face off with what she mistook as a hairdryer.
Gaz paused at a crossroads. She hadn't asked Zim for any kind of currency exchange. She groaned to herself, almost wishing she could bash her head on a wall, for overlooking something that obvious. Of course, she couldn't use US currency on an alien space market. She very seriously doubted that they had any kind of exchange rate solidified for that. She pressed on, intent on seeing more of the market than she had her previous visit.
She paused at a particular stand, toting stuffed animals of some kind, catching a sudden halt in motion in the corner of her eye. Typically, she'd have ignored it. If it weren't for a persistent feeling of being watched. Gaz flicked her gaze over to the aliens in question, turning her head slightly. She blinked.
Of all the assholes… Gaz thought. Blask stood at the next stall, glaring at her over a patron's oblivious head. He was also eyeing her bat. Gaz tapped it a few times on her shoulder, raising her brow as she glared back. A few aliens surrounding him, she noted that massive rock alien was missing, were either shuffling their feet, swaying, or fumbling with their hands. Blask still had bandages on his head from her last bludgeoning.
"Do you live here, or something?" Gaz asks. Blask looked like a vein was about to pop in his temple. He slammed his fist down on the table of the vendor he stood at.
"Just what the hell are you doing back here?!" Blask shouts.
"I mean, I assume half these towers are apartments or something," Gaz continued. She turned away before Blask could reply. She slipped between the bodies around her, moving several tables down before she could overhear a whispered debate behind her.
"—can jump her now."
"With that weapon?"
"Four on one—"
"Boss, we heard what she did."
Gaz twisted on her heel. Blask wasn't in the front, and what a shame that was, but she did swing her bat and make contact with one of the others' torso. She immediately followed through with a strike to their legs. She spun around, intent to just sprint away, but large arms grabbed her at her waist. A mistake in hindsight for them. They didn't constrict her arms at all. She swung the bat backward, ducking her head forward, and felt it connect. It had hardly any effect, though. The one who had grabbed her turned around, facing them both to Blask.
Gaz stomped on the alien's foot, taking their second of interrupted concentration to slip the slim end of the bat between their arms and her torso. She spun the bat, un-wrenching their grip, and immediately elbowed them in the stomach. Blask was fumbling at his belt. The other two tried to flank her. Gaz grabbed blindly at the vendor table, grabbing something heavy. She swung it into the nearest alien's temple. Blood spurted on to the second, stopping them a moment while they tried to wipe it away. Gaz held the item up. It was some sort of engine fan. She caught movement and ducked back. A fist narrowly missed her jaw. The alien fumbled, stopping short of the table, their fist unclenching just in time to catch them.
Gaz tossed the engine fan and raised her bat. She swung it down on the arm in front of her. There was a clean break. That made two down and two to go. She caught Blask's eye. He had another gun on him—she wasn't surprised, but that did annoy her quite a big—and was aiming to raise it. The last goon opened their mouth, taking a step into Blask's line of sight.
"Out of the way!" Blask shouted.
The alien in question shot their tongue out at her. Nevermind how disgusting that was, she was more concerned about the gun. Gaz raised the bat, catching the tongue on it, instead. She immediately gripped both sides and planted her feet. Just as expected, the alien (Froggy, now) tried to pull the bat towards them. Gaz whipped the bat to her left, slamming the tongue right into the edge of the table.
The alien gave a pained cry, pulling the tongue back, and cursing up a storm. Gaz ducked under the table, almost sliding away into the vendor's shop. She ignored their angry shouting, ducking through the curtains to the other side. Two thoughts ran into her head. First was that she could run away from Blask, regroup and come back if necessary. And Second, she could actually go around, and catch him from behind.
The latter thought won out. Impulsive. But would quench her thirst for blood well enough. She ducked right, rounding around to the alley between the vendor stalls. Blask was harshly pushing the table to the side when she rounded the last corner, already bringing her back around in an wide arc that ended in a downswing. She caught him right in the back of the head. The gun went off, firing into the table. The area it hit looked immediately melted and burned, scorched around the edges. Gaz jabbed Froggy in the chest, and then swung the bat at their temple as well, dropping them like rocks. Blask wasn't moving, either, it seemed.
She sighed, running her hand through her hair. She wasn't sure if she should have expected most the aliens around them to be ignoring the entire scene, or not. It kind of reminded her the stories she'd heard of New York. The vendor was staring at her, then to Blask and his goons, then their table.
"I didn't do that," she says, pointing with her now multi-colored bat. The vendor just nodded, backing up into their stall.
Gaz sighed, looking down at the group. She was sweaty, coated in blood, her arms were sore, her legs were sore, and she was in a weird mix of emotions. She started to rummage about in their pockets. If she was going to have to deal with this level of bullshit, she was getting compensation for it.
Gaz rested the now chipped bat over her shoulder when she was done. Three wallets wasn't half bad. She blew some hair out of her face and turned on her heel to start back down the street. She hadn't heard any sirens, or announcements, or seen nary a guard or officer since she'd started getting herself bloodied.
She halted halfway down the street, stripping her sweatshirt off, using the inside to wipe the blood off her face and neck, and discarded it in a trash bin. She couldn't do much about her pants, but if asked she could just claim it's paint. Most of the blood had dried oddly solid on her jeans and the bat. She was thankful none of them had slightly acidic blood. If she'd been bashing an Irken, her pants probably would look bleached; and she'd have come out looking like she had a weirdly botched tan job.
She'd seen one or two Irkens since their arrival, as it was. They had just been mingling in the background among the crowd, hopping stall to stall like every other alien. One, she noticed, was in a cloak. She could guess it was an Irken only due to the stature, skin, and the tell-tale bottom half of their uniform. She wasn't entirely positive about their species, though. She was positive that they were following her.
She weaved through the crowd. Eventually, she broke randomly away, slipping between two stalls and rushing out the other side to the adjacent street. She didn't have a plan in mind on where to go, except to keep which direction the meeting place was in the back of her mind. She milled about, taking in the mountain of culture and alien paraphernalia surrounding her. Once or twice, she sidled up among the stalls, feeling eyes on her. She wasn't going to lose any of her own money if she got mugged, but she'd be damned if she was losing either the money she'd worked hard to mug or her bat.
Eventually, she found her way back to their meeting point. She spotted Dib and Zim already standing there, leaning against a light post, with a large bag between them. Dib was fiddling on his phone. If he'd managed to get internet of some kind out here, Gaz was demanding the same. She tapped the bat on the ground as she approached, getting Dib's attention. He looked her up and down, his face growing concerned. Zim glanced her way as well, snorting.
"What happened?" he asks.
"Is this a credit card?" Gaz asks, whipping out one of the wallets and pulling a random card out.
"No, that's an ID…" Zim says. Gaz tossed it and moved onto the next card.
"That's a membership card… membership card… gift card… that's a credit card," Zim says, plucking it from Gaz's fingers. Dib slapped the card out of his hand to join the others on the ground at their feet. Zim gasped in offense, picking it back up with a click of his tongue.
"That is definitely still illegal. Gaz, where did you even find this?" Dib asks.
"They threw the first punch," Gaz says flatly. She pulled out another wallet. "So, it's fine."
"That is not how it works," Dib sighed. Zim laughed, riffling through the wallet himself.
"I see no issue with it."
"How did you get away from the cops?" Dib asks. Gaz shrugged.
"They never even showed up."
"Sounds right," Zim mumbled.
Gaz hummed, taking out the third wallet. She smirked at Dib's tired expression at the sight of it.
"ZIM!"
Gaz turned, the cloaked alien hunched and huffing behind her. Under the hem of the cloak she could see the pants and boots of the Irken uniform much more clearly now that they were so up close. They were still a good few feet away, but Gaz had no doubts that a well-placed PAK leg would still easily skewer any of them. She glanced back at Zim. He was staring at the figure, mostly confused. His antenna twitched as such, to the side, like he was raising a brow.
"…eh?"
The Irken threw back their hood.
"Tak?" Dib asked, almost dropping his phone. "Holy shit! You're alive?!"
"Of course, I'm alive, you monkey!"
"In my defense, it's been years—"
"Stalker," Gaz says flatly. Tak glared at her. Dib poked Gaz roughly in the shoulder. "What?"
"What do you mean 'what?'?! Explain!"
"She's been following me since I bludgeoned Blask and his gang," Gaz says, picking at her nails.
Dib looked down at the wallet, his face paling. "Is that his wallet? Is he still alive?!"
"Debatable," Gaz and Tak say. They look at each other a moment. Gaz smirked.
"I could go double check," she says, tapping her bat on the ground.
"If you were going to double-tap him, you should have done that the first time," Zim says.
"Well, someone wouldn't let me," Gaz sneered.
"You could've done it," Zim grumbled. "You have the determination."
Gaz shot him a glare. She turned back to Tak, noticeably more irritated now. Gaz swung her bat around, almost hitting Tak in the chest with it, if she hadn't leaned back. "What are you doing here, anyway? When did you decide to move into the Market?"
"I didn't move in! I saw you in the video, idiots, of course I'm here!" Tak shouted. She harshly shoved Gaz's bat away.
"…Have you been waiting here… the whole time?" Zim asks slowly. Tak was silent. "It's been weeks—"
"I was gathering intel!"
"On what, the two no-names and one Irken at an intergalactic space market?" Dib asks incredulously.
"So, you've been here for weeks and didn't consider that having set up base—?" Zim started to ask.
"I was going to kill you, you asshole!" Tak screeched. Zim snorted, tapping his foot.
"And yet here I stand," he says. "How funny."
"Don't tempt me. Why on Irk are you even here with them in the first place?! Aren't you "mortal enemies"?" Tak asks mockingly. Dib flushed a little, scratching the back of his head.
"Uh—well, I mean no—not anymore, it's—it's complicated," Dib finally sighed.
"Bitch, why do you care?" Gaz asks. She shrugged when Tak shot her a venomous glare. "Times change."
"Irkens don't change," Tak spat. "Not against the Empire."
"That's—" Zim began, stopping when Dib cut him off.
"Irkens have never heard of allies before?" he asks. Tak narrowed her eyes at him.
"You're not an ally to the Empire," she said slowly. Dib, to his credit, didn't let his gaze waver. Instead, he opted to double down.
"All that really matters, since you care so much—"
"I do not care!"
"—is that we're here, amicably, and that's what's fact," Dib says as smoothly as he could. Zim turned to him, staring at him flatly. Dib glanced at him, his smile slightly faltering as Zim stared, unimpressed. Finally, Dib turned to him sharply, lifting his shirt collar to whisper to Zim angrily. "What?!"
"That was pathetic," Zim whispered back.
"How the hell am I supposed to explain—" Dib flicked his hand between them. "—this, huh?! To her?!"
Zim opened his mouth, paused, pouted, and sighed. He swore something close to what Dib would translate as a 'damn' in Irken and crossed his arms. Gaz, meanwhile, was staring at Tak with one eye open, keeping her bat level with Tak's chest. Frankly, it was starting to unnerve Tak that she hadn't blinked yet. Tak turned her attention to Zim again.
"The Resisty's been active in this area," she says. "And frankly, I find it rather odd that you're frequenting the Space Market here at the same time."
"That is the dumbest fucking name they could've chose," Gaz sighed. Dib snorted, covering his mouth when Tak and Zim both sent him a glare.
"It sounds dumb!" Dib says. "Like a weird joke name."
"They are not to be taken lightly," Tak hissed. "And you are getting deactivated for siding with them! I knew you would do this eventually. It's been evident for years!"
"Wh—join The Resisty?" Zim asked, delving into a laugh that was starting to leave him wheezing before long.
Tak's face started to darken the longer he went. Dib eventually elbowed him in the side to get him to breathe normally enough to calm down again. Zim took one look at Tak and started laughing all over again. Gaz kept watching Tak as she started to growl. Something guttural and unnerving. Gaz had originally been intent on just letting Zim wear himself out. She'd temporarily forgotten how long Zim might actually be at this. Gaz took her turn, kicking him harshly in the shin.
"Ow! What on Irk was that for?!" Zim roared.
"It worked," Gaz says simply. She turned to Tak. "Hey."
"What?" Tak hissed. Her antenna were almost flat on her skull. But, they weren't bent forward, so Gaz took that as a sign she could relax just a little bit.
"Just leave. We're leaving. I don't feel like ganging up on you. I got my exercise for the day," Gaz says plainly. Zim had to bite back a snort. Gaz leveled her gaze with Tak. "I mean it. I'm armed, Zim's Irken, and Dib has a plasma gun on him."
Dib grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back a little. He'd already grabbed the bags, looping them all over his arms to carry at once. Gaz didn't take her eyes off Tak at first. She didn't seem like she was going to make a move, but she had to be certain. Zim was last to start back to the parking lot. He and Tak were staring at one another, sizing each other up.
"I hope to never see you again," Zim says.
"Burn," Tak hissed.
"Likewise," Zim spat.
His PAK legs elongated, carrying him away while he kept his eyes on Tak. The PAK followed Dib and Gaz all the way to the gates before dropping him. By then, Tak had been swallowed up by the crowd. Once they were out in the parking lot, Dib groaned, taking his glasses off and running his other hand through his hair, jostling all the bags.
"Gaz, what the hell…?" he asks tiredly.
"What? She wasn't going to risk my bluff," Gaz says. "If she wanted us dead, she'd have shot us when she came up."
"She'd have skewered you," Zim corrected. His PAK produced three legs and he clacked his claw on one, smiling darkly. "All of us. Simultaneously."
"Great image to put in my head, thanks for that," Dib grumbled. Zim slung his arm around his shoulders, still grinning widely.
"My pleasure~," he purred.
Dib elbowed him in the side. It was substantially less effective given the bags on his arms. He let them drop when they reached the Voot, glancing back at the entrance. He couldn't be sure if he could see Tak among the crowd. So many aliens were wearing similar cloaks, and the constant movement among the gates made it difficult to tell.
"Dib-stink, get in," Zim ordered. The PAK legs lifted the bags into the Voot. Dib climbed inside, taking his seat beside Gaz.
"So, did you see a debit card in these?" she asks, taking the wallet out again. Zim started to laugh, setting the Voot into autopilot, as Dib was left to sigh and rest his head in his hands. Gaz rummaged through the wallet, pulling out a card.