Being Tall Isn't Everything

by P.A.W.07

Zim was about to destroy the world, his dying adversary at his feet … yet he doesn't kill Dib. He wants to use that cunningly huge head of his, especially now that they are both so tall. Now, years later, the newest Tallest finds himself in a web of secrets, the past and the future seemingly tearing him apart. As usual ... this is all Zim's fault.

15. Atomic-Red Frosting

Chapter 15: Atomic-Red Frosting

Dust and debris went everywhere, clouds darkening the sky for a moment as a small irken ship landed. There was a moment of silence, the engines clicking as they cooled before the cockpit opened. Out hopped a stout irken, antennae high as he looked around, not even the least bit worried about the dust settling on his boots and uniform. Skoodge had never been afraid of getting dirty.

"And you're sure the vapor trails led here? To Planet Dirt?"

A SIR unit immediately hopped out of the small ship, the little pack on his back and a tri-optic on the left side of his face showing he had had special upgrades.

"Yes, Master. The vapor trails lead here. In fact, the landing location is nearby," said the robot, Chip as he had been personally dubbed.

With that, the little SIR was moving forward, his Master following with quick strides.

It didn't take long to smell the smoke and find the source of the fire, a still smoldering black pit in a clearing. The charred metal shell of a ship was all but destroyed, melted internal components revealed to the world like guts spilling out of a rotting beast. In fact, it might have looked like another piece of junk on a junk-planet, but the Tallests' ships were always personalized. This was obviously Zim's cruiser, even with all the scorched damaged and … graffiti?

Immediately, Skoodge felt sick, stalling a few feet from the remains of the ship as his mind raced. Was Tallest Zim injured? Dead? What was going to happen to Tallest Blue? Tallest Blue was unwell. How could he hold up the empire without help? And what of –

"These are human tracks," stated Chip, ignorant of his handler's internal panic as he scanned footprints in the dusty ground.

"More specifically, a hunting pair. You can tell by the different grips on the bottom of their boots. Humans really are uselessly decorative and inefficient with resources," continued the little mech.

Personally, Skoodge disagreed. Humans were creative, doubly so when they were mad or backed into a corner. That was what made them so dangerous though most irkens probably would say it was their bloodlust. It was widely known that if humans caught sight of a lone irken, they attacked with prejudice. In fact, there were even rumors that it was a human infiltrator that had killed Tallest Red and Tallest Purple.

"I also see irken boot prints. These must be the Tallests'," said the little SIR, his left optic rotating to a different color as he changed the settings. "Follow me, Master."

The chaos they followed was almost predictable for humans: scorched earth, bullet holes, plasma burns, and one dead ham beast. Humans really did go all out on their battle-beasts. Nonetheless, there still wasn't a sign of any losers of the battle nor his Tallest. Finally, after dredging through the battle zone for further clues, the Tallest's tracks led away from the warzone and to a strange door hidden away in a mountain of scrap metal.

It turned out to be a hidden base.

The defenses were easy enough to get through, Chip dealing with most of them with single-minded prejudice until they got into what looked like a hanger. Skoodge merely followed after his little killing machine, antennae raised in interest as he observed everything around them. He had full trust in his SIR which had been programmed to his liking. He just wished the little bot was a better conversationalist. Skoodge hated to admit it, but he really didn't have a lot of equals to talk to.

"The area has been cleared, sir. There are no signs of lifeforms," said the SIR as he landed and saluted his Master, a sparking sensor still in his hand like a beating heart. "Shall I head deeper into the base and investigate further?"

"Yes, please do Chip. If you find a central database, collect data from it. This place is suspect," replied Skoodge as he raised his antennae up further, looking around the strange collaboration of work centers in the odd underground hanger.

First and foremost, this was obviously an irken base even though the odd conglomeration of tech made it feel like Frankenstein's monster. There were obvious Vort touches here and there, especially evident in the medical center towards the back corner, a nasty set of medical arms hanging from the ceiling like abandoned limbs.

As he walked over to it, the pak recharge outlet did not escape his gaze especially since it was medical grade. The most damning detail was the claw marks on the surface of the medical berth. They were deep and numerous … and likely irken. The vort specialized tools and horn shine did not settle his nerves as to who the physician had been.

Walking deeper into the rest of the main room, his boots stirring up dust as he went, Skoodge noted that this was essentially an invader's base. Tools were strewn about like haphazard remnants of a great battle or a quick exit. Two partially constructed ships were still hanging from the rafters, their internals seemingly flayed open like the ribcage. The odd thing was that the exteriors looked like a Kex design while the internals were very, very irken.

Yes, this was concerning, especially since things weren't adding up. What was this place and why had Zim come here?

Wandering into one of the side rooms, he felt his spooch sink further. The numerous smeet learning files were unmistakable with their colorful borders and friendly smiling irken faces on the backs of all of them. All the learning pads were older versions oddly, but the backboards of practiced Irklesh on the walls made him feel sick. What was a smeet doing here?

Walking deeper into the room, noting the thick blankets on the recharge berth and a dental orb in a bowl nearby, he frowned deeper. This was not a place to be raising a smeet. Was the smeet unregistered? Sweet Irk, the smeeteries and raiseries would be up in arms not to mention the Control Brains if there was an unregistered pak involved.

Ugh, he didn't have time to report this. Not with his Tallest Zim still unaccounted for.

Deciding to write the report later, he nearly tripped in his haste to answer Chip's ping in the main hanger when something snagged his leg.

Laser legs coming out, the invader was on high alert only to immediately stall. It … it was just fabric.

Folding his pack legs back into his subspace, Skoodge shook the dusty blue fabric free from his leg and just stared at it. Stranger and stranger, it seemed. A sewing machine and fabric as well? In fact, this was high-quality fabric in the color: ocean blue. He knew that because, well, everyone knew it. It was Tallest Blue's favorite shade of blue.

Awkwardly folding up the fabric and placing it back onto the dusty machine, his spooch growing tighter and tighter with the more he uncovered, he nearly jumped when he received another ping from his SIR.

Giving the folded fabric one more odd look, the invader turned and headed in the direction of the ping. He quickly came upon the small bot plugged into a collection of clobbered-together consoles, his optic having changed again and showing a reflection of the data he was collecting.

"What have you found?"

Turning towards his master, Chip cocked his head in a surprisingly expressive manner as if he was thinking or sorting out his thoughts. He then pulled up the data he had been able to salvage. "Most of the data went through a deletion program, but given the subpar technology to begin with, some of the later entries were salvageable."

Skoodge leaned forward, confused as he looked at some half-formed battle tactics, vague files about some kind of serum, files on an ice planet called Hoth, and design specks for a pak blocker.

The invader's head immediately snapped back into the direction of the room with the blue fabric. The advisors' vague hints about the Control Brains' upset with Zim were starting to form a really ugly picture. Skoodge knew that Zim wasn't always the most thoughtful irken, but he did love his people. Well, the idea of his people, not the people as individuals. He'd never do something so despicable ... right?

"Master, there is one other file worth interest," continued Chip, the little mech pointing towards a surprisingly dustless spot in the hanger. "A first-generation Ring Cutter is missing. Logs show that it was taken by registered user: Zim."

Antennae rising up, his mind throwing together rough plans, the invader asked, "Are there any mentioned flight plans?"

Shaking his little helm, Chip added, "No, but shortly before the flight prep of the Ring Cutter, the Planet Hoth file was reviewed."

Hoth: it sounded familiar.

Accessing the information net offered by his pak, the invader searched for the planet. It came up listed as a horrible winter wasteland with nothing to offer but some good Freezies … oh, and there was a chrono-stasis prison and research facility. It wasn't irken ran, but it was an affiliate.

Pulling the communicator from his pak, the invader hailed his ship and told the AI onboard simply, "Meet me at my current location ... and find a route to Planet Roth. Hopefully, my scarf is still in storage."

…

"I want a new ham beast!" barked Keef as the was forced onto a stretcher by the battle medics, the two strapping him down as he continued to rage even though his bleeding face was being bandaged up like a mummy. "I spent months training Porky! Months! He was such a good ham-beast. He killed and maimed so well, and that bug just slaughtered him! He didn't even try to eat any of the meat! How wasteful! I'll skin-mmmmmhhhhmm!"

Gretchen sighed and merely patted her partner on his shoulder as the battle medics wrapped up his whole face. She got it. Whiney patients were the worst and so she gave the medics an understanding nod as they took him away.

She, in turn, headed towards the bridge of the Ark regardless of the blood, dust, and singe-holes in her clothes and kevlar plating. She had to make her report post-haste to the commander.

Heavy boots clanking against the steel hallways, she quickly stood before two robo-guards. The mechs stared for a moment before two separate scans fell over her, their horrible single optics burrowing into her soul before the two bots gave soft pings of approval. From the look of them, they had once been old Obleg mining drones. The Professor really did know how to repurpose what the rest of the universe had deemed junk. Those mechs were heavily armored beasts now and she wondered if she could ask for one. Keef might like that more than a new ham-beast.

Stepping into the room, she looked over the wide contact center, the lights dim as the Ark traveled through enemy territory. Most of the energy was going to the cloaking device so the haunting atmosphere wasn't unexpected. Nor was the Professor sitting there in his chair, just staring at his metal hand as he curled and uncurled his metallic fingers.

He was in one of his funks it seemed. Whenever something was bothering him that he couldn't immediately solve, the Professor would sit there in the dark staring at his hands. There were a few theories as to why he did this: the largest one was when he first addressed the humans he had saved, his clothes smoking, and his sleeves gone revealing both of his metal arms. He had vowed to crush Invader Zim's and the Tallests' paks with his bare hands, his hand sparking as he curled it into a fist. It had been an inspiring speech and was available for download from the Sanctuary's computer banks.

"Sir, a moment of your time," she asked, standing there as the stars continued glimmering at them from the viewing screen. She wished she could find some wonderment in the vastness of space and those little pinpricks of light spread across the cosmos, but she honestly loathed them. They got to remain still, stationed, and rooted in a home. She would probably never again know the luxury. She supposed it was better than being dead if only to defy all the green alien pricks spread out amongst the stars.

Looking up from his hand, one side of his goggles reflecting the cosmos, Membrane stated, "Of course. How did your hunt go?"

"Not as successful as we would have liked, but we did run into Tallest Zim. He did not have a guard with him and was snooping around Planet Dirt. Keef and I engaged, worried that backup might not be far behind. We were able to injure him but not critically. After losing the ham-beast and Keef receiving a head injury, I made the choice to retreat. I did blow up Zim's ship upon exit."

Failure tasted rotten in her mouth, but Membrane merely nodded. Everyone knew irkens, especially Zim, were hard bugs to squish.

"Is he still on the planet? Is it worth sending a full squadron?" he asked, still staring at his hand and those mocking little lights in the expanse.

"I don't believe so. We were able to scan another departing ship leaving the planet. Given the horrible flying, we're sure it was Zim. I have the ship's identification but given Keef's injuries I was unable to pursue it," she said stiffly, just like the old veterans had taught everyone. You can be as angry as you want out there in the reaches of space, but don't bring your crazy home as the saying went. She knew that statement was hard to uphold for some people, like Keef, but she prided herself on her self-control.

"Please have the ship's identification added to the system as soon as possible. Hopefully, someone spots him before he gets back to the Massive," said Membrane as he went back to looking at his hands.

Gretchen, thinking she had been dismissed, was about to turn and leave, but then Membrane spoke again, his voice odd like he was holding back pain, "Gretchen, one more thing. You … were in Dib's class, correct?"

The young woman stiffened at Dib's name. It was almost an unspoken taboo to mention Membrane's son. Everyone knew about the breakdown he had suffered when he discovered his son hadn't been with the rest of the survivors. The boy's name was even more taboo because he was now dubbed as, 'The boy who had been right.' It was uncomfortable for everyone that had waved off the boy's warnings as paranoia, but she was sure no one regretted that more than Membrane.

Swallowing, folding her arms behind her back so that her spine remained straight, Gretchen stiffly nodded, "Yes, we were in the same class. You spoke with my parents once during a teachers' conference."

"Ah, yes," said the Professor, his tone distant before he added, "I know you were children, but do you remember Dib speaking with Zim about family matters at all? I'm just curious."

"Just curious?" repeated the young woman, uncertainty pulling her lips into a thin line. She honestly didn't want to say anything about Dib. It was an unstable subject for the Commander and though he was handling Dib's death much better these last few years, most people strayed away from it. It was best not to give the man hope.

"Yes," continued the man, his words carefully strung together. "Specifically about his mother."

Gretchen couldn't keep the surprise off of her face, her eyebrows pulling in tight as she stated, "About his mother? Well, no, I don't think so. Dib didn't talk a lot about his home life to begin with, and since he always knew Zim was an alien, he didn't offer much trust to him. I know that some people thought they were friends, but they didn't talk about feelings or stuff. It was more like they were two lonely kids feeding off each other's attention while challenging each other on everything."

She didn't add 'until one lonely kid destroyed the world', but she felt that could be left unsaid. Instead, she added, "In fact, I still can't believe that Zim killed Dib. Zim thrived off Dib's attention, even if it was negative. And honestly, if it wasn't for all the blood that was discovered at Zim's abandoned base, I would think Zim kept him like a pet or trophy or something."

The young woman regretted her words the moment she said them as the Professor gave her a look she couldn't define. It wasn't rage but it was something that made her stomach sink especially when the man repeated, "You think Zim kept him?"

Blinking, hating herself for giving hope where there was none, she quickly added, "It's unlikely. I'm sure Zim would have paraded him around or lured you out with Dib. I just don't know how else to say it, but Zim needed Dib especially towards the end there. Far more than Dib needed him."

Humming as if in thought, the professor steepled his fingers together and sat there in silence before he dismissed her, stating simply, "Thank you, Gretchen. You've given me much to think about."

Gretchen, nodding, left quickly. She didn't know why, but she felt like she had opened a can of worms and now it was too late to shove all those loose wiggling thoughts back in. Trouble would soon be afoot.

Afoot….

Afoot…

Afoot…

"A foot is under the bed - I mean berth," said Dib as he entered his assigned room, two other advisors behind him. He tried not to wince at the human word, but thankfully the two shorter Irkens were now peaking under the berth and seemingly oblivious to the verbal slip. It was honestly kind of odd that they were even hanging out with him. Was that normal for advisors maybe, to latch onto a taller counterpart?

"Huh, so that is where the rest of Advisor Bid went. We just assumed that when he teleported throughout the ship parts of him were just atomized," said Pixen before quickly adding. "I've messaged for a cleaning drone. They should be here shortly. The rooms are generally prepped before a new advisor presents themselves, but there is usually a lot more bragging beforehand so that we know they are coming."

Dib, poking open one of the wall closets, hummed in acknowledgment. He had always thought the conceited personality traits were just an invader thing, but maybe it was a common trait of the entire irken race. Then again, plenty of humans were conceited as well so it might just be a personal attribute.

Tilting his antennae slightly as two shorter irkens came into the room, he watched Pixen point at the disembodied foot and tell them to clean up. The shorters kept their antennae low, muttering, "Yes, tallers."

It was almost impressive how quickly the two little irkens were, their pak legs like extra hands as they went about scouring the place. Dib couldn't help but notice that the leg kicked once before they put it into a secure box. Part of him now wondered exactly how dead Advisor Bid really was.

Shaking that thought away before he got paranoid about body parts wandering around like in a zombie movie, Dib nodded and thanked the little cleaning drones for a job well done. He didn't see one speck of dust.

The two little irkens looked up at him with flush cheeks and shivering antennae before they suddenly dropped their mops and brooms to launch themselves at him. The ex-human actually flinched back, wondering if he was being attacked until he noticed that they were both hugging his legs like handsy lichen.

"Tch, don't be nice to them. They are never going to leave you alone now. They'll always come to you first," said a broad irken as he leaned in the doorway, his eyes such a dull red that they almost looked grey.

"Oh, General Kurr, what are you doing on the Massive? I thought you were keeping to the rear guard," said Pixen, straightening his antenna as he addressed the sharp-eyed irken.

"And miss the drama here? Everyone and their robot are trying to get a glance at him," said the General as he waved a clawed hand nonchalantly at Blue despite Pixen's glare. "I'm exaggerating. Mostly. I was actually looking for Advisor Took and you. There's been this weird MultiTech chimera of a ship lurking around the Delk region. It hasn't done anything, but it's also not answering any hails from the trading world it's drawing near. It has to be made out of at least twelve discarded ships from eight different species and yet it is still running. I wanted some secondary opinions on its origins and how large of an interception unit to send. The worry is that micro-bots have become sentient again."

"Eight different types of tech you say? Do you have the data file?" asked Took as he looked up, whatever was scrolling over his visor stalling as he gave the General his full attention.

"The whole file is being reviewed in the Delta bridge and I was just snatching some advisors to, well, advise since this is below the Tallests notice as of right now," said Kurr as he stepped out of the doorway, waving the other advisors forward and out of the room. And they followed… except for Dib. He was stalled when Kurr stepped back into the doorway, stating simply with a cold glint in his eye, "Not you … Tallest Red asked for you to meet him in his rooms."

Dib's antennae raised up, wondering if this was good or bad. The red-dressed irken's next words made his spooch sink, "He did not seem pleased."

With that, the General left, any of the false cheer he had been showing earlier gone in a blink of an eye. It wasn't even his first day and he had already ended up on the Tallest's shit list. Just fantastic.

...

Dib's gut felt heavier and heavier the further he got from his newly designated room. It didn't help that he knew there was some unnamed time limit on Red's invitation and he had already taken the wrong elevator twice. And now, given all the shorters stares, he was starting to wonder if they all knew something he didn't. Perhaps Red had already figured out his plans and was just playing with him. The Tallest did strike him as the type that liked to play with their food.

Straightening his spine, his shaking antenna forced to be still, Dib finally found himself gathering some courage. If he had been found out the worst thing Tallest Red could do was invite Dib over. The ex-human had promised himself revenge even if it led to a bloody bath.

Turning the corner, the map telling him that he was near the elevator that led to the Tallests' room, Dib stalled and groaned. There was no elevator. Yep … he was lost.

Luckily, Dib finally ran into a group of little irken cooks, each wearing hats almost as tall as they were. They nearly fell over themselves when he asked for directions. They also kept trying to offer him candies because he looked pale or something, but he waved them off, saying he was in a hurry. Shorters really did act weird if you gave them even the slightest bit of attention. He wasn't sure if it was cultural or something more ingrained. Either way, he didn't have time to dwell on it as he stepped out of the elevator that led to the Tallests' chamber doors.

He immediately knew he was in the right place given the grandiose entrance as well as the elite guards stationed about, all of them shifting their eyes in his direction. It was an accusing stare and almost a glare from the guards before Tallest Purple's door.

Raising his antennae in confusion, he headed for the red door. He was about to say he was expected when one of the guards gruffly spoke, "When called upon by your Tallest you are meant to come immediately. Not three lics later."

"I wasn't the one who designed the Massive with an internal hedge maze. Does the Tallest Red still wish to speak to me?" Dib asked blandly, honestly hoping that the answer was no. He hadn't had a moment to himself since he got on this stupid ship. Being on the bridge with the destroyers of his people had already maxed out his social tolerance and he didn't know how much more he could handle.

The guard gave him a looked that spoke volumes before the door suddenly slid open as if replying in the guard's stead. Yep, this was already going great.

Letting out a deep breath, telling his hands to stop picking at his robes, Dib entered feeling like he was entering a dragon's den without any armor or a sword. Well, he had a sword he supposed. His pak's subspace had been filled with a multitude of deadly little gadgets.

Stepping into the room, not the least bit surprised that the color red dominated the space, Dib looked around.

Unsurprisingly, the room was high ceiled and decorated like it belong to a prince. Well, a space prince, treasures hanging on the walls or floating above pedestals. He might have taken a private tour just to see the oddities compared to the rest of the militarized ship, but an irritated hrmp caused him to tilt his head. Immediately his gaze met Tallest Red's. By the slant of the ruler's eyes, he was obviously pissed. The poor serving drones around him and his extravagant plush chair even looked terrified as they offered up snacks and drinks.

Glaring for a moment more at Blue, as if trying to make the moment as uncomfortable as possible, Red suddenly waved the little helpers away, the short irkens fleeing down the raised platform like their butts were on fire.

Watching them weave around him, Dib envied them and their ability to flee.

Red watched him a moment more, lazily reclining back in his oversized chair, his usual robes replaced with a much lazier and billowy set. He then, pointedly, grabbed what looked like a live dust ball, jabbed it with a little skewer, and while it squeaked dunked it in cheese. Dib tried not to twitch as the cheese-dripping thing finally made its way to Red's mouth with a squeak and pathetic crunch. Red even took the time to lick the cheese off the stick with his snake-like tongue before he got lazily to his feet, his long billowy robes dragging after him like curtains as he circled Dib.

Dib was instantly on edge.

There was something in the way that Tallest Red moved. The way his lanky tall body swayed almost effortlessly without his hover belt sent a chill down Dib's spine. It reminded the ex-human of his paranormal hunting days and the thing he had found in the forest. It had moved the same way as Red: a hungry beast that liked to play with its food. Dib still didn't know to this day what happened that night in the woods as he fled for his life, his glasses cracked and his flashlight dead, but something was chasing him. He could hear it calling out, pretending to be a person, but it wasn't a person anymore if it had ever been one. The history of windigos was patchy at the best of times, but the most important thing that Dib needed to know was that it was going to eat him if it got the chance. And, also, they had much longer legs than a human.

When Dib had been pounced on, his face pressed into the wet earth and pine needles, he knew it was the end, especially when his head was lifted and slammed down again and again. And yet, when he awoke, head pounding and body aching, there had been Zim instead, sitting on a half-snapped tree, slightly battered and bruised as if he had seen battle. Zim's words had been simple but still stuck with him, "The only one that gets to kill you Dib, is me."

It was after that incident that something changed ... and that was probably why Dib accepted Zim's plan. There were scarier things in the reaches of space and even in the lost forests of Earth than Zim. Perhaps, if the circumstances would have been different, they could have been friends.

"You know," finally said Red as he stalled in front of Dib, his height not as imposing without his hover belts. "I don't like surprises."

And, far quicker than Dib would have thought Red capable, the ex-human found himself pinned against the nearest wall, his face smooshed and Red's claws on his pak. Dib immediately cursed his distracted thoughts and tried to release his pak legs to fight, but the taller irken slapped the latch shut, sneering, "Try moving again and I'll rip your pak off and watch you die on this very carpet."

Dib stilled realizing what this was. He'd been bullied enough to know a power move when he encountered one. He could fight but to remain undercover it was probably best to just let this moment of degradement be. He hated even the thought of it, but this was all for the bigger picture. Earth would have his vengeance even if Dib got his pride stomped on. It wouldn't be the first time.

Patting the pak as if noting Dib's obedience, Red spoke softly as if his anger was barely contained, "You made a mockery of me today as well as Tallest Purple. I know a challenge when I see one. Purple is barely an inch shorter than me, and I will not be replacing him with someone's pawn. Who do you belong to anyway? The Science Division? Munk's ilk? The Control Brains' Advisory? Smeet-Matron Coobey?"

Dib stood there with this confused expression on his smooshed face, antennae bent at odd angles to further show his confusion. What was this about an inch? Was this more height hierarchy crap?! He kept asking for details but Zim just kept waving it off stating it wasn't important while Sizz Lorr merely looked uncomfortable. And what the hell was a Smeet-Matron? Who were these people?

The ex-human's confusion must have been malleable because suddenly Red was flipping him around and grabbing his chin painfully, laughing darkly as he asked, "Do you even know who you work for? No better pawn than the dim-witted I suppose. Makes it more fun for me to figure out who you belong to, I guess."

With that Red squeezed his chin harder, getting so close that Dib could see his own reflection in those red orbs, "They must have kept you real sheltered. I don't even see one scar on you. You probably barely even know how to fight. Destroying you now wouldn't even be a challenge."

And with that Dib's face was released, the ex-human stumbling back as he grabbed at his jaw wondering if Tallest Red had drawn blood. Tallest Red merely stood there tall and proud, more like a warrior than the lazy throne warmer he had seen in the command deck. Those red eyes seemed to miss nothing, Red coolly adding, "I saw your hatred, Advisor, earlier on the command deck. I saw it in your eyes and in your hands … even in the smile you held. It was a type of anger that you promised to hold for someone else. I saw it and I do not forget. I will find out who you hate for."

And with that Tallest Red waved a clawed hand at him and turned his back as if he was an afterthought, heading to what had to be his berth-quarters. He only stalled long enough to add, "And you look pale. Someone of your height should always keep their blood sugar in check. Can't have you dying before I figure out who sent you. It would ruin all the fun."

And with that, Dib found himself alone in Red's room feeling oddly violated. And yet, despite the crawling of his skin, the red cupcake was placed into his claws by one of the guards that had watched the whole incident without even a word. Looking at the little pastry in his hands with its atomic-red frosting, he kind of felt like it was a bomb just waiting to go off.

XXX

Paw07: I always liked the idea that Red was kind of smart, just super lazy and self-centered. So he caught onto Dib right away … but not in the way he thinks. XD