Chapter Five

Zim looked over at the damaged machine in disrepair, before looking at Dib, "How much more can you think you can handle?" Zim asked. Dib looked down in guilt, rubbing his forehead, before his eyes widened at a tendril acting like a wild snake headed towards their direction. Dib let out a painful scream until Zim wrapped his arms around it as if he was wrangling a crocodile.

"Rudesome...half wit!" Zim barked, stomping a boot on Xaxul's arm, it was just one kick and it was amputated; it was just a sloppy organic worm in Zim's hands before it dissolved into cinder; Xaxul was an organic monster from the darkness of the sky and Zim made that monster's arm of flesh, bone and pus into coal and burning skin.

"Zimalyon'k a'dahl…"

"Don't say my real name in front of the Prophet," Zim said annoyed, "If I had enough power to summon my spear I would have killed you earlier."

"You traitor...you're supposed to expand thy kingdom across these pathetic lands. The prophet is just a blasphemous pawn, the seducer of the pure amongst the wreaths. If you don't move your position. I shall offer your spine to our precious queen. The red queen, the one Y'dadulah of the blackest oceans of the heavens."

Zim smirked, a hand to his hip as he looked over the machine his present self made, "You talk too much, Xaxul. You really are just talking ball sacks; is that any way to talk to the one born of fire?"

"WERE YOU NOT LISTENING?!"

"I have selective hearing," Zim mocked, while turning over the machine keeping Xaxul focused on him, not Dib, nor the machine, just him; as a low ranking God of being the messenger, Xaxul had many eyes but was cursed by one ear. Zimalyon was a fucking traitor yet his loyalty to listen and keep was his weak point, there was a reason why this big ball of flesh only caused heads to hurt and not drive mortals to insanity, but Xaxul had hurt the Prophet, more than once; there was no rhyme or reason at this point, Xaxul the God of messages finally released the fiery bull.

"You agreed on the table, you severed your finger under oath!" Xaxul snarled.

"That was many many centuries ago," Zim managed to turn the machine back on, without the use of the cities power, Xaxul realized his tactic and sprung more tendrils to wrap around him as if he was a pathetic fish wrapped around by the octopus' grip, "Ugh-!" Dib soon struck with reality that Zim was in trouble, he was so in awe at the scene before him that he had forgotten he was in battle. Dib saw Gir in the distance, also hypnotized by seeing Zim back talk Xaxul. Dib started running to him. They had to work together, they had to make this work.

"To think you were once so powerful, yet here you are Zimalyon'k a'dahl, wrapped in mortal wool. I can break you like a doll, grind your bones to dust, or behead you with my jaw. You might have regained some power but you are no longer worshipped...nothing but a fairytale told by withered tongues. The Irkens hate you, the universe itself hates you. The sky shall split until—"

"You really talk too much, Xaxul," Zim smirked before Xaxul was slammed by another assault by Gir; more tendrils sprung from the ground and were aiming at Dib clutching Gir. Zim pulled down the harpoon lever with his boot and Xaxul's mouth was penetrated and impaled by the mortal harpoon. It went through his body and went out his back; black blood gushed on the sand with odd mutated fish with teeth and large human eyes flop to the ground that were once in Xaxul's stomach. Zim was splattered with blood, yet he looked more annoyed than disgusted. He hopped down from the machine. Dib slowly trudged over with Gir who let out small squeals of delight at the unbridled carnage before him.

"Zim…" Dib breathed, "A-are you all right? I'm...sorry I was useless…" Zim shook his head.

"With how you are now, it's expected that such creatures like Xaxul can hurt simple mortals."

Dib raised an eyebrow, "Why are you speaking like that?"

Zim chuckled nervously, "Well…"

"Ah, Zimalyon, you finally woke up, you dumb SHIT!"

Dib and Zim looked taken aback at each other. Dib shook his head, realizing it wasn't him, but it was his voice. They both slowly looked behind them to see a twelve year old Dib; Dib himself recognized the goat eyes, and a disturbing smile turning into a sadistic grin, his clothes were exactly like when Dib was young but the shirt was a disgusting mustard yellow, the eyes of the face on his shirt looked crazed, and the neutral face below was constantly changing its mouth expression, as if it was an optical illusion painting.

"Juxteen…" Zim seethed.

Juxteen gave a small wave before skipping over in Dib's child look; Dib felt ready to slam the monster with Gir out of rage for making his younger self look grotesque.

"Aww, what's the matter, Zimalyon?" Juxteen mocked, "You don't like this form?"

"I don't like it either," Dib sputtered, "Why do you look like me when I was a kid?"

"You interrupted MY feeding," Juxteen growled accusingly, "I take the form of my dinner, and you, you big headed little fucker, kicked me in my fucking balls and interrupted ME!" Zim leaned over and grasped Juxteen's small neck and held him up, the now small entity struggled in his grasp, kicking his legs and letting out grunts of frustration, "You third rated knight BALL SACK of a FRESH COCK! Let me go!"

"Tell me why you and Xaxul, one of the lowest tiers of your power were instructed to hunt down the Prophet. I expected mother to keep him and find him useful, but here she is throwing Xaxul, and you in my path."

"Oh yes, you would like that, don't you? Zimalyon never plays games, just war, he plays war," Juxteen mocked, his long tongue hanging, "You were a pawn from the beginning as you cut open the womb and birthed by the dying sun. It's unfaaaair to you, because you never get to see the boards."

Zim raised up Juxteen's glasses and swiftly poked him in the eye.

"MOTHER FUCKER BUTT MUNCHER ASSFACE!" Juxteen shrilled.

"I'm not here for riddles and vagueness, answer my question," Zim said firmly. Juxteen gave a small swat as Zim placed him down and he eyed them both, as a deity, he hated being put in the corner and even more so not treated with the respect but he was feared. Juxteen crossed his arms.

"The mortal is just making our plans...harder than it needs to be; his fourth eye is stronger than ours," Juxteen pointed to the middle of his forehead with two index fingers, "Spiritualist call it the third eye on this planet, don't they? To see things beyond, but to have a fourth eye is special, the clearest of lenses and the toughest to obtain. You're not enlightened when you get the fourth eye, you must be driven mad. The Prophet has the greatest fourth eye to see veils which have not been seen, therefore...the mark is on him; and that is all I shall say on the matter." Dib slumped in revelation.

"Must be...driven mad...the opposite of enlightenment."

"You've been sick in the head for years, haven't you?" Juxteen teased.

"You're in no position to judge him yourself, plague mongrel," Zim pointed out, "You who creates diseases and making them spread throughout the galaxy and planets, some of your little creations landed on earth, the black death—"

"Not as spectacular as the Plague of Galen and Justinian; but that's besides the point, my little war horse," Juxteen said matter of fact like, "The Prophet can see the future of our plans; I don't care what happens. I like observing, and playing my hands to rattle the board. I shall take my leave; careful not to step on glass as mommy watches." Juxteen pointed to the sky above them as a Helix Nova bloomed like fireworks going off, it's pupil opened up a black torrent and slowly absorbed Xaxul's corpse, skin, meat and bone coming apart before it was swallowed entirely. The eye faded into the air, leaving only debris of Xaxul's machinery.

Red struggled with visions and hallucinations throughout his time being looked after at the hospital;

the stench of plastic and medicine was making him dizzy, while the constant beeping from heart rate machinery was causing him a headache. Red slammed his gauntlets against the wall as he couldn't withhold the urge to cry anymore. He banged his head against the wall as he wept, guilt and shame mixed into an awful tar in his belly. Red faintly remember years ago about playing an emotional tryst on Zim, both he and Purple dragged him through the dirt, but Red especially pulled the wool over his eyes. Red's tender kisses to the smaller Irken when he was an elite was supposed to be a ruse, now here he was in the grave he dug; now realizing at the bottom of the pit, he realized the shimmer of the faintest love. Red could hardly tell that, maybe, he was skin starved or at the lack of company because of the absence of Purple; but Zim. He wanted Zim like a lovesick puppy groveling for mercy, he missed this cackling dense idiot.

Red shook his head, in denial of his hubris. It's just the IV medicine! The side effects...I'm sleep deprived…

"At this moment, Irk is without leadership; ex-Tallest Komb has regained his seating temporarily until the current planet leaders are in good health. I repeat, Irk is…"

Red was caught off guard by the transmission message, realization hit him like lightning, "Purple?!" Oh no, and Komb was well beyond his years, but Red was confused about what had happened to the other Tallest. He expected the worse but did his best to ignore such a negative little voice in the back of his mind. He opened his room door and hovered to the nearest help desk, "Someone please tell me what happened to Tallest Purple. We're both rulers of Irk, I need to know!"

"Purple? Tallest Red, he's not with us. You're here due to mental health issues. He's probably in another hospital."

Red slammed his gauntlet against the desk, "Then at least check your database and I'll drive there using a ship!"

"You have to be evaluated by your—"

"I have no time for evaluation papers, this is an emergency!" Red yelled. Red's doctor and a few nurses brought him back to his hospital room, despite his yells at wanting to see the other Tallest. Red was temporarily strapped down by velcro, in an attempt to try to calm him down. Red swallowed as he looked outside, seeing a moving eye in the night sky. It watched on, mockingly, at his plight.

Purple's PAK had some damage to his interface but because of Komb pulled out the blunt object out, it was less fatal. The most damage was to the personality processor, and a jolt to his limbic system; to fix a PAK was similar to surgery but the doctors were arguing how to approach, one misstep can alter Purple's personality drastically, and there was also a risk of accidentally putting the tall Irken into a coma. The doctors noticed a foreign chord dripping at the bottom of the PAK, it dripped an ink colored liquid and looked to be made from thin thread like follicles; Komb was contacted about it, but he recalled never seeing such a thing during the accident. How then could wires as thin as a needle be placed into Purple's PAK? This had to be placed in prior and the Irkens had a wide range of enemies. It could have been an attempt at assassination or sabotage, but there was just one problem, Irkens carried one PAK, a complicated copy could be made as a spare but they were made to the exact detail; if something like this had slipped out it would be highly unforgivable. "I...I need to...see it…" Purple wheezed through his ventilator, his eyes stinging slightly from the surgical light above him that felt like a morning sun, "I need to see her...the Y'dadulah...my queen...my red queen...she's waiting for me...in the castle."

"Tallest Purple, please don't talk; you're being treated for a severe PAK injury," the nurse said.

"I thought we pumped in enough anesthesia? How is he still awake?"

"If we put through anymore he'll overdose."

"We can't forward the procedure when he's like this," another surgeon said, "Inject a muscle relaxer through his amygdala; it doesn't have to be a big dose, give the smallest one." A machine with a thin small syringe gave a puncture through Purple's head and the surgery room became silent when a subtle echo of a mechanical string being plucked, a droning ripple, was heard throughout the room; aside from the heart rate monitor...this felt like a tainted harp. That sound rippled through the surgery room. They questioned what it was coming from inside Purple's head, even implants for the brain couldn't make such a weird sound. Purple was still looking at them in what could be described as heartbroken, as if a child being told Santa wasn't real during Christmas, or it was their parents putting in money as the Tooth Fairy.

"You believe me, don't you?" Purple pleaded, "Please...please...you have to believe me…"

The doctors looked at each other, exchanging wary glances, before Purple seemed to be lulled to sleep from the relaxer.

Zim fainted halfway when following after Dib and Gir across the dirt plain that lead back to the city. Dib was startled and Gir burst into shrieks of panic; Dib gently held Zim in his arms and the Irken stirred, looking confused. "Zima...lyon?" Dib asked, but Zim glared up at him becoming more bewildered. Zim shoved him aside, looking around to see what was left of the battlefield. Zim silently looked Dib who gave a confused shrug over what came over Zim.

"Did...did he do that?" Zim pointed to the empty ethereal machinery from afar.

Dib looked surprised, expecting an I but not a he, as if Zimalyon was completely different. Dib became sheepish, giving a nervous chuckle and shoving his hands in his trench coat pockets, "You did that."

"Master did that," Gir added, "Master protected Mary."

Zim glanced at Dib and heat rise to his cheeks. It was only natural to protect Dib, he had to protect the human just to keep his purpose in life; it was nothing beyond that. Zim kept telling himself but he kept looking at Dib sometimes, occasionally their eyes would lock and both parties were flustered by the others gaze. Dib opened his mouth in an attempt to say thank you, but Zim turned his head away to put on his lenses and wig. "You wanted to say something?" Zim asked but by then Dib had decided to fold.

"Um," Dib stammered, "N-nothing…"

You didn't agree with me completely!

Zimalyon found his voice again, albeit a bit delayed, but he didn't hold back his anger. Zim felt his brain rattle. They were similar, Zimalyon was displaying a snarling tantrum that made Zim remember the occasions when he would blast at Gir for misbehaving. They were more together, Zim's body felt light but strong, he tested what he had on a large piece of rock next to the entrance; and he was amazed at how easy it felt. The rock didn't feel like weight of stone, it felt like picking up a large plastic ball in PE. Zimalyon's strength was astounding, even Zim wasn't this strong, not even on Hobo 13...he needed to use his gauntlet to drain power in order to get the same result. "Whoa…" Dib gaped in awe, startling Zim so badly that the rock broke in half after he dropped it.

"Uh...let's just head back home," Zim said quickly.

"Can you lift up a truck?" Dib asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"I'll lift you and toss you if you don't cram it!"

I'll give you the biggest headache of your measly life, if you dare hurt him.

Who asked you?! Zim snapped at the War God mentally. Zim could almost see his other half giving a smug smirk at Zim's snapping, that only made Zim feel more bristled that Zimalyon was so full of himself; both cut from the same lovely thread of pride and ego. Once Zim opened the door to his base, he was confused by the Irken Emergency broadcast being on, the announcer speaking with a retired Tallest, Komb, beside him. Dib looked at Zim, hoping for an explanation but Zim let out a sigh as if to say "I have no idea, don't ask me". Dib could barely read modern Irken, but he covered his mouth at the footage taken from an earlier broadcast of Purple having his PAK impaled by a pipe.

"Ohh fuck…!" Dib moaned in mortification, "W-was that really one of your-?"

Zim turned the TV off, changing it to a different channel so Gir could have his silly shows. He looked at Dib who looked pale as a sheet, "If Komb is there as a temporary leader, then yes, my Tallest are injured. Irk can't control by itself without a leader; we'd panic, but Komb is much too old. I don't know how long he has."

"How old is he?"

"300 by human years, give or take. He's seen a lot and is highly revered, but he has heart and lung problems; Komb at the helm is just a band-aid over a large open wound. If my Tallest don't return, then Irk shall truly unravel…" Zim explained solemnly.

"What will happen to your people?" Dib asked sitting down.

"As long as the Control Brains are working fine, my people should last!" Zim answered optimistically.

"I mean what will happen if you lost your leaders and your Control Brains?"

Zim refused to answer.

¡NASA PLACE! was picking up weird readings across their boards, drone cameras seemed to be glitching; telescopes and satellites were picking up something big from across the many light-years of the distant sky sea. They at first thought it was space debris or even an asteroid, but surveying the camera photos and reading over the monitors painted a different picture. The object made no sense in its structure, it was about as big as Earth but the base of it was flat and horizontal, with a castle on top of being carried by wings and gears at the bottom. This problem was brought to the experts, and calls ended up busy, it wasn't just ¡NASA PLACE! calling in about the foreign space object, every space research facility and aeronautical administration caused the phone lines to be flooded. Everyone was asking the same question in the end, whether to each other or the line representative to the White House and country leaders: what is it?

"It's just Lossy Compression, or data bending," Professor Membrane answered his phone calls, sounding rather annoyed that he had to get out a dozen phones out and connect them, delaying his research to play operator, "Please stop calling me, I am very busy right now! I'm not the only scientific expert on the roster! Shut up! Oh, uh, not you...that other guy. Wait, who was I talking to prior?!" Gaz peeked into her father's lab, disturbed by the ruckus of phones ringing that interrupted her video games.

"Dad, you okay? You're loud enough to wake up the dead," Gaz replied.

"Hello daughter, um, well...I could be better. I've been getting calls all afternoon! You mind by grabbing one of these phones and-?"

"Dad, I don't handle people."

Professor Membrane sighed, "Of course. As you can see, it's going to take a while to ease troubled minds. A massive camera bug is putting everyone in a frenzy, next thing you would expect is a distress signal from an alien or something," he joked before the alarm of his cameras went off, blaring loudly that Gaz covered her ears with herself palms, "It never ends for me...not to worry, I'll handle it. Did you need anything?"

"No. Just wanted to check up on you, that's all," Gaz sighed, before leaving back upstairs. She went outside after turning on the burglar alarm and pulled out her VampPiggy Ultimate; a little walk wouldn't hurt before dinner, and she had to admit, it felt dull without Dib bugging her about the paranormal or Zim. Gaz noticed a bright light from above that illuminated the entire town, before an object in the sky landed so hard in an empty lot covered by countless shrubbery that it left a crater. The impact caused grass to burn, bushes were empty charred skeletons and there were cracks on the sidewalk. Gaz put her game back, rushing over to what looked like a makeshift ship. She kicked the handle and pulled, the door coming off its hinges as she got a good look at the occupant inside it; her eyes widened in shock, and a gasp escaped her lips, noticing the familiar purple uniform, boots with a hoof tip and curled antenna.

"Tak?"