Dib smashes against the wall. A sharp pain stabs the base of his spine and shoots upward to the base of his skull. He crumples to the ground with a groan, gritting his teeth. The ridged stone floor presses into his shoulder. But as he tries to prop himself up, his arm collapses out from under him, and he crashes to the ground again.

A clang of metal echoes throughout the room. Dib looks up towards the sound, squinting. A blurry green mass swipes through the bars at something else on the other side. The mass releases a shrill screech and clangs desperately at the metal. There's a shrill beep then a spritz of cold liquid following a second behind.

It screeches again with a garbled string of words that Dib loosely identifies as IRKEN. "Release ZIM this instant! The Tallest would not stand this. . . this criminal treatment of IRK's finest Invader. Release me!"

A smell similar to burnt beef wafts around the room, intertwining with something metallic and a hint of burnt plastic. Desperate scratching against stone comes from beside the door, and as ZIM settles on pacing from one wall to the other, Dib could faintly make out streaks of a translucent pink.

"ZIM." He cringes at both the metallic taste of the air and the sound of his voice: quiet and hoarse with disuse. "Sit down, you fucking moron. Won't help if you hurt yourself."

The clicking of ZIM's footsteps comes to a halt for a moment. "ZIM will do whatever he pleases, Dib-Meat. The guards' facial scanners probably just. . ." he swallows, "malfunctioned. Yes. . . They do that."

He paces for another minute or so before plopping down on the floor a foot and a half away from Dib. A wave of cold air seeps into the cell and ZIM hugs his knees to his chest, shivering. Dib squeezes his eyes shut as waves of gooseflesh wash over his bare skin where his trench coat and jeans were ripped.

With a groan, he places his arm under him and props himself up. A particularly rough huff of breath produces steam that swirls around his face. His arm trembles and shakes, but he shoves himself up to sit against the wall. Crimson liquid stains the stone where he'd laid. A rip in the front of his bloodstained shirt reveals a large, still-oozing gash on his chest.

"Fucking hell. . ." He pinches the bridge of his nose to bite back a headache before slipping his trench coat off. The cold assaults his arms and chest. Despite his shivering, he drapes his trenchcoat around ZIM. "Here. Take it."

ZIM cringes against the metallic smell, but pulls the tattered black fabric tighter around himself. Despite the coat seeming to swallow him whole, wisps of cold air still find their way through rips and tears. ZIM scowles and curls up into Dib's side, nuzzling into the crook of his arm. Dib inwardly chuckles and wraps an arm around him to keep him close. His fingers sift against ZIM's antennae.

ZIM tenses for a moment before melting into the touch. A broken rumbling blooms from his chest, pittering out in some places and intensifying in others. Dib chuckles and pulls him closer. He leans against him and closes his eyes. And for a moment, they're the only things that exist.

Until ZIM lays a hand on the gash in his chest. He hisses in pain and moves his hand. "ZIM, that hurts."

"I am. . . not surprised." ZIM moves his hand back to the gash, tracing the outsides of the wound. He scowls when Dib's breath hitches, and he writhes under ZIM's claws. "Yes, yes. Your weak human body is in pain. We would not be in this situation if you had not insulted ZIM."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You referred to me as a 'Defective.' ZIM is not a filthy lowlife Irken."

Dib blinks once or twice, turning to meet ZIM's eyes. He studies them for a moment, noting the uncharacteristic dullness. "You're a criminal. You killed four of your leaders, caused two wide-scale blackouts, blew up the planet, and wiped out most of your own race. ZIM, you're listed as a Food-Service Drone in the Database."

"That's nonsense! The Control Brains had mistaken me for some other space criminal." ZIM stares up at him, clenching his fist hard enough to where it trembles. "It was a simple mistake during the Life Evaluation. I am still Irk's finest Invader. I will forever be part of Irk's elite group."

"Listen to me." Dib shifts with a wince, grabbing ZIM's shoulders and giving them a shake. "We've been over this. I. . . Look." His hand trails down to the collar of ZIM's uniform and gently moves it to the side to expose his collarbone. He runs his fingers over the small brand. An Irken symbol, but cracked in the middle. "This proves it.

"They treat you like utter shit, and you're too stupid to see that blindly following them is doing more harm than good."

"ZIM is not stupid." ZIM shoves Dib's hand away. "And I'm not blindly following them. It is merely what I am coded to do. We Irkens do nothing but conquer and serve as we are emotionless pawns to the Control Brains. We are a race of perfect soldiers." He scowls. "I will not listen to another word from an inferior race. You have no place to speak on it."

Dib searches ZIM's face in disbelief. "You have a cho—"

"Not another word."

"ZIM."

"Shut. . ." ZIM takes a breath, staring at the wall. A dark look crosses over his face. "Shut your human mouth. No doubt they'll be arriving for us soon. I fear this is the end for us both. So. . . s-say no more. Sleep, Dib-Meat. Not to heal; healing won't matter after the Trial has concluded. But so time will pass."

Dib opens his mouth to speak, but clamps it shut again with a quick nod.

"Good. . . We'll meet again. Dib."

Dib opens his eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light. He looks around, and notices nothing but a bare room. His brows furrow. He shifts his arms, and tilts his head at the black fabric wrapped around him. The trench coat. Where the pink streaks on the wall were before he'd fallen asleep, nothing remains but stone.

He shakes his head and gently presses his hand to his chest, groaning when a spark of pain hit his nerves. The pain lingers for a moment before ebbing away. He stares at it for a moment or two, straining to remember where he'd gotten the injury. Everything seemed like a blank slate. No past, no future. Only the present.

When he looks up from his thoughts, ZIM stands in front of him. Metal wiring lines the walls of the small area and a magenta glow spreads throughout the room. ZIM stands amongst it with his fists resting on his hips, chest puffed out despite the bruises littering his body, a missing ocular implant, and a sparking PAK.

"Dib! You have come after all. . ." When silence follows his greeting, he scans Dib. His antennae perk up as he eyes Dib's hand. Or, more specifically, the rectangular device protruding from it. "What's that?"

Dib scowls and slams the harddrive onto the makeshift table in front of him, panting. "Who's side are you on, ZIM?"

"Pft, what a dookie question." ZIM tilts his head with a lopsided smile. His antennae twitch. "I've told you before, Dib-Stink. I know not of sides. Now tell me! What is that?"

"ZIM—"

"Tell me!"

"You're—"

"I must know! Tell me!"

"Goddamn it, ZIM!" Dib slams his fist on the table, glaring at him. "Shut up and listen to me for once." He takes a breath, grumbling to himself even though he's satisfied with the silence following his snap.

"This," he holds up the hard drive between his thumb and index finger, "is your information from the Irken Database. A Vortian friend of mine helped crack into it." He shakes his head. "That's. . . not the point. Point is, everything you've ever done is on this little thing here."

ZIM flashes a cocky smile. "Wonderful, isn't it? Everything I have accomplished?"

"What does it mean, ZIM?"

"Eh?"

"What you're labeled as. 'Defective.' What does it mean?" Dib pushes up his glasses, peering at him.

ZIM freezes. A tense silence seeps into the room as the two maintain eye contact. The soft humming of machinery wafts around the room. Slivers of magenta light filter through the gaps and halfway bathe the room in light. The tension grows as the silence stretches on. ZIM bares his teeth, fist clenched.

"You're lying!" He shoves a finger in Dib's direction, a scowl replacing the previous thoughtful look. "You do not know of what you speak! That term is reserved for criminals with free will from the Control Brains. ZIM is a loyal servant to his Empire, not qualified to be a Defective."

"The four Tallest you're directly responsible for the deaths for wouldn't say the same." Dib throws his hands into the air. "Would you stop acting like an idiot for once? You were exiled. Twice! Our entire fucking relationship is based off a lie your Tallest made up to get you to leave them alone. You're not even coded as an Invader. Open your eyes for once in your life!"

"A filthy Urth Creature has no place speaking such things about my Tallest." ZIM's voice drops to a lower tone. He slips in and out of IRKEN as he speaks. "My Tallest love me. They would never do the things you and TAK have accused them of doing. The Database is wrong. The Control Brains made a mistake somewhere in the code. You're a filthy liar."

Dib grits his teeth, whipping around and slipping back through the machinery to leave. A wave of tense silence crashes over them once again. The heavy breathing from behind him hitches and quickens, but Dib continues to twist and wind through the machinery. With a screech of rage, ZIM grabs Dib's arm and yanks him back into the room. He pins Dib to the ground, swiping his claws across his chest.

PAK legs burst from their host, pinning taking ZIM's role of pinning Dib to the ground. With his hands free, ZIM pants and screeches, ripping and tearing Dib's trench coat and the shirt underneath. Strips of torn fabric flutter to the ground. He fastens his claws around Dib's throat and presses them into the side.

He watches blindly as Dib tries to wrench himself out from under him, tightening his hold. A spark of satisfaction pierces his Squeedlyspooch as Dib releases a fearful, broken scream. His glasses lay lopsided on his face, magnifying his frantic eyes and the way they dart from place to place. A shade of purple seeps into the mid-tone brown, and ZIM blinks, loosening his grip for just a moment.

Dib shoves ZIM off of him the moment he gets and backs himself into a corner to keep the distance between them. He places a protective hand over his throat, pulling his knees up to his chest so that no further damage could be done. ZIM's antennae twitch, and he looks around frantically. A panicked expression crosses his features. He scuttles around the room on his PAK legs for a minute before making his way over to Dib, who presses back against the wall.

As the room quiets down, a frantic clicking reverberates off of the machinery. Dib looks around the room before realizing ZIM's PAK produces the noise. The sparking seems to have intensified, spurting through a damaged port. ZIM's antennae twitch, and his head snaps in several directions towards the openings of the room. Dib furrows his brows. Animalistic.

"ZIM?"

ZIM snaps his head toward Dib for a moment before snapping his head in the direction of distant footsteps. A low growl rumbles in his throat as a mixture of discordant voices echo from his PAK.

"Approaching danger. Isolation required to complete automatic reset. Please locate the nearest safe room. Assailant 10 sook away."

"5 sook" He begins to pace around the room on his PAK legs, snapping his head in each direction.

"1 sook." His breathing hitches and quickens, and his ocular implants shift hue a few times. Something clangs right outside the mass of jumbled machiney.

He freezes.