The guard walked down the dark grey hallway, followed by several others. The rain was hammering on the ceiling, as if to warn them to turn back, but a job is a job, and there was no way he was going to let that alien screw up his salary. Angry roars came from the prisoners as he passed their cells, but he paid no attention to them. There was another guard at the end of the hallway, standing a good few meters away from a cell where a shadow stood, staring at the guards silently.
"What the hell is going on here Torr?" the first guard yelled at the one at the end of the corridor as he neared him.
"T-Tallest Red's put him under some kind of spell, sir," he answered shakily, antennae quivering. The first guard glanced behind the Irken guard and saw another guard – human like himself – holding onto his neck, lying flat on the floor and making a sick gurgling noise, "it's like his insides are on fire..."
"Get this man out of here!" the guard shouted an order. All the other guards crowded around the man and started dragging him down the passage. The first guard stayed where he was, watching the others make their way to the entrance on the other side of the foyer. He gave a sigh and slid his hand through his brown hair, slightly knocking his hat on a tilt. He turned around, took a few steps forward towards the cell that was at the end of the corridor and stared as fiercely as he could at the silhouette, "What's this all about, Red?"
The figure was silent for a second. It stayed deep in the dark cell, only the faint glow of his red eyes proving that he was a living thing.
"There's someone I want to see..." a low and haunting voice echoed in the cell, "It's just a little request... nothing more..."
Dib opened the front door, taking in a deep breath to calm himself down. Sure, he had thought that today would be normal, that he would go to his office, meet patients and hopefully forget about last night's short dinner. Hey, maybe Zita might even pop round to say hi, or maybe there'll be some new gossip going around in the hospital, but, much to his annoyance, his first phone call was about something far off treating a stomach bug.
So it was off back home.
Dib went up the house's stairs and immediately went towards that room that seemed to have become his friend's den. He slammed the door open, finding Zim sitting at a desk, eyes wide and concentrated as he plucked at an old banjo in his amateur style.
"Let me guess, you used the phone's wires to replace the broken strings on the banjo," Dib huffed. Was it possible to leave Zim alone for a second without the Irken breaking, cutting or simply destroying something?
"Dib! I have started an experiment on a moth's reaction to the outside world-" Zim was staring at a small transparent cup with a book on top of it. Four moths were flapping around inside it.
"You do realize that what you're drinking is meant for antennae surgery," Dib glanced at a coffee beaker next to Zim that had some funny liquid filling it up halfway.
"It's better than your water," Zim hissed, "Now, observe as I play certain notes..."
"How did you get those moths in there?"
"Six hours of pure patience, Dib... and boredom from waking up at two in the morning with nothing to do..." Zim explained while plucking the highest string on the banjo.
"You've got something to do now, Zim," Dib took the book off the cup and tapped it once or twice to get the moths to leave their container.
"NO!" Zim tried to grab them as they flew away.
"You're Red's last request," Zim froze at what Dib said.
"Tallest Red?" Zim asked.
"Unless you know any other Red in jail, yes," Dib answered.
"What does he want?"
"How the heck am I supposed to know?" Dib huffed.
"I guess I'll have to find out myself..." Zim said, scratching his chin and staring at the floor. He looked back up at Dib angrily, "What are you doing, Dib-human? We've got to get going now before the visiting hours close!"
"But it's eight in the morning, they've just opened."
"Nonsense. Now, quickly, Dib, to the Voot Cruiser!"
After a short quarrel between who should drive, Dib reluctantly let Zim take control of the Voot Cruiser. The radio had been broken when Zim wanted to make a communicator that wouldn't cost him money for when he called his friends back on Irk (though he broke that too, in the end), so there was no music to fill up the silence in the Voot Cruiser. Dib stared out the window with a sour expression and the stillness was starting to irate Zim. Glancing out at a large building that was halfway to completion, Zim gave a smile as an idea came into his head to break the silence.
"Irken technology has certainly improved human life. Just look at that marvellous building, the perfect example of how advanced the Irken race is..." Zim boasted, admiring his own species.
"Hmph..." was all Dib managed to reply.
"Why, you humans would still be in your little land-transportation vehicles if it weren't for us," Zim carried on. Dib stayed silent, still staring outside the window. "Did you know there's a Vortian Band coming to Earth? They're called the Resisty. Apparently they make that 'rock' sound you humans talk about. I can get tickets."
Dib didn't respond.
"Oh, silly Dib-human. Are you so sorrowful because you have to sit in the passenger seat? It's ok. No one can really win an argument when against Zim."
"Shut up, Zim," Dib snapped, "I don't care if I drive the Voot Cruiser or not..."
"Yes you do! Look at you! You're miserable. Well, there's no reason to be jealous of me-"
"Jealous of you? I'm happy I'm not you!" Dib yelled, "Because I'm gunna beat you up like there's no tomorrow if you keep being so annoying."
"Not jealous of me? Then what is causing your human emotions to be so... unhappy?"
"Unhappy? You mean furious! You ruined your first meeting with Zita! Can you do anything right?" Dib yelled.
"Of course, I am Zim."
Dib shook his head, "You owe her an apology."
"Zim doesn't owe any 'apologies'."
"You know what? Let's forget about it, for now at least, and focus on Red," Dib dismissed the conversation and went back to staring out the window. His mouth dropped open.
There was a huge crowd of Irkens and humans with boards saying: 'Killing the murder will only make him more thirsty for blood', 'We're opening the door into a room of difficult times', 'If we anger the evil Wizard, we will be cursed' and 'We are Doomed!', all shouting out at no one in particular. Police were trying to get the crowd to leave, but it was obvious the protestors had no intention of going home.
"I think we're here..." Dib murmured.
Zim followed the Irken guard down a corridor. The walls were all made from the primitive human cement and Zim wasn't surprised to hear the prisoners yelling and throwing food at him and the guard – living in such an old place must really start to get annoying after a while, or at least that's what Zim thought. The guard opened a rusted metal door and motioned Zim to follow him. The door opened to another corridor, a smaller one, however, and with empty cells. It was strangely silent in here compared to the last corridor.
"What happened to all the prisoners?" Zim asked.
"Oh, this part of the jail is empty. We usually use it for prisoners with health problems..." the guard explained.
"Is Tallest Red sick?"
"No, but we moved him in here after last night's guard got... 'attacked' by him. We're keeping him away from the other prisoners, just in case he decides to make one of them his next victim," the other Irken answered. He stopped as they neared the cell at the end of the short corridor. Zim stopped as well and gave him a questioning look. The guard's dark red eyes were fixed on the cell five meters in front of him. They were filled with a type of fear most would see in a child's eyes just before the lights were switched off for bedtime.
"I'll go by myself," Zim said before carrying on walking towards the cell. If he had turned around, he would have seen the guard's grateful face before he turned around to leave the corridor.
As he neared the prison cell, Zim could see a figure sitting on a bed, its back facing him. It was silent, but Zim could sense it knew about his presence. Glancing up, Zim saw that the light had been shattered into pieces and noticed that the bulb was lying directly underneath it, also smashed; the glass littering the floor.
"I never knew you hated the light that much," Zim commented.
"I don't need it, so why have it?" the figured replied, still unmoving. "So, you accepted my invitation, did you? Where's you human pet?"
"He said the next time he sees you, he wants to see you dead."
"Oh, so it's him who'll pronounce me dead, is it?" the figure's antennae rose slightly.
"Good guess," Zim leaned against the cell bars, "Now what do you want?"
"Me?" the figure finally turned around and stood up. No doubt about it, this was Red. His maroon shirt hung loosely on him and his black trousers went past his feet as he towered over the much shorter Irken. His shining red eyes seemed to look friendly for someone who was staring at a person who was partly responsible for his future execution. "I thought we could have one last chat. You know, enemy to enemy?"
"Don't be stupid," Zim laughed, "the only thing to say to you is: I won! You lost! Ha!" Zim cheered. Red's eyes narrowed. He had always been patient, but Zim was already pushing his luck.
"I think you're letting your guard down far too soon, Zim," Red took a step forward.
"And I think you're getting your hopes up that you'll be let off on good behaviour," Zim mocked.
"Still got a sense of humour, have you?" Red said dryly, "It's not like you to be making up come-backs like that when it's someone from your own race you're talking to."
"I know," Zim admitted, "but you're more of an insult to our kind than anything else."
Red smiled, "An insult? Your arrogance is more of an insult. You praise yourself for everything you do, and you make sure the whole planet knows about your accomplishments. But I wonder: do you praise yourself because no one ever praised you? Not that I'm being personal, just curious."
Zim had to stop himself from reaching in the cell and strangling Red, "You're just trying to be clever."
"Oh, but I am, Zim. You'd be surprised," Red's arms folded as he gave off a sly grin.
"If you passed first grade I'd be surprised," Zim started to realize that Red was playing the same game that Zim always played with Dib, the 'annoy person to the limit' game. But Zim knew Red would go over the limit, and push Zim right of the edge.
Red's grin widened instead of fading away. And, to surprise Zim even more, Red started to chuckle. It must have been the first time Zim saw him laugh, and he had chosen one of the most inappropriate times too.
"Why are you laughing?" Zim yelled. Red was winning the game. Looking back at the shorter Irken, Red's smile finally disappeared.
"Because you're an idiot."
"You take that back!"
"Oh no, Zim. Believe me, my thoughts about you should be the least of your worries. I suggest you keep your antennae up. This isn't over – far from it. And, anyway," Red continued, "sleeping with one eye open may help you keep your job."
"You really have gone nuts," Zim retorted, "Why would I ever let something so big that it can change my whole career pass by me? I am Zim, remember? I mean, it doesn't make sense that you think-"
"Open up your mind to new possibilities, Zim. Not everything has to make sense. Now pay attention. Three more will die in the coming days. There is nothing you can do about it, so I advice you stay away from the case," Red's haunting voice echoed. Zim remained silent for a second before making a 'pfft' noise, starting to walk to the door at the end of the hallway. He had told Dib that no one could win an argument with him, but Red had just proven him otherwise. Zim had to keep in his mind that, overall, he was the winner. Red was the one who was going to be executed, not him.
But, still, the last thing Red said shocked Zim. Red doesn't lie. He just twists the truth, puts it in riddles and adds some hocus-pocus magic words to whatever he says. There was no need to worry about him, though, Zim knew that. The Irken Tallest was spending his last few hours in that cell and there was a high chance that Red just wanted to cause Zim a sleepless night. But the serious tone that Red spoke in was one that could make you believe anything. And it was clear Red wasn't wishing Zim a happy life.
"Goodbye, Zim," came a low, taunting voice behind Zim as he neared the door at the end of the corridor, "And remind your human pet that I've got an appointment with death that I'll be walking away from."
At that moment, Zim had to admit that the shouts and screams from behind the door in front of him sounded far more inviting than Red's calm yet fear-provoking voice.
"What did he want?" Flint was standing outside the jail, curious to know Red's intentions.
"I don't know..." Zim stared at the floor, only half listening to the inspector, "but I don't think it's anything to worry about."
"Of course it's not. He'll be dead by the end of the day," Dib, who was standing next to Flint, said. Zim half-heartedly gave a nod. Flint didn't look convinced, though.
"Knowing Red, he's got something up his sleeve that'll at least cause a stir in this public. He'll probably do a cartwheel or something before he dies just to go out with a bang," Flint hissed.
"Oh, come on. Everyone will be over it by the end of the week. Red's not that big of an influence," Dib replied calmly.
"There's a whole flipping protest about him! You call that 'not that big of an influence'? That guy will do anything to start a riot," Flint motioned at the protesters outside the jail, "and I think he's damn successful at it."
"You worry too much."
"Ha! Me worry too much? I'm the only one with some sense around here. Everyone's scared out of their pants, you're acting as if it's the weekend and Zim just seems to be aging a year every day!"
"Shut up! It's that antennae surgery stuff that's making me sleepy," Zim yelled.
"Antennae surgery?"
"I think Zim thought it was coffee," Dib murmured.
Flint slapped his face, "Everyone's gone mad... well, I guess the sooner Red's gone the sooner things will settle down, though I'm not so sure on your 'one week' prediction, Dib," Flint sighed, "I think I need to get back to Irk. Earth gives me a headache."
Executions had come a long way since beheadings and hangings. Now, in the extremely unlikely case of someone being killed for a crime, it was far more humane (or Irkene, whichever you prefer). It was like the putting down of a dog or cat. One small injection was all it took. In a sense, it was far more daunting. Far more slower, far less painful, very unnatural and just a frightening idea of waiting to 'fall asleep'. It rarely happened, so this was the first time Dib had to call someone dead who had just been executed.
Dib wasn't there, though.
He didn't see it.
He could only hear mumbling through the walls.
"Tallest Red, you are being executed for murdering five innocent woman, the attempted murder of a sixth-"
As much as Dib despised Red, he felt guilty for being one of the people responsible for catching the Irken. He knew that if Red were to curse a number of names, Dib's would be one of them. However, listening to all Red had done helped banish the guilt. If this is what he deserved, then Dib figured that he shouldn't feel guilty.
"Do you have any last words?"
Dib couldn't help lean closer to the wall. He'll probably do a cartwheel or something before he dies just to go out with a bang, Flint had said. Maybe he was right – though not about the cartwheel. Whatever Red said now could cause a stir, and it seemed awfully like Red to do so.
"This isn't over..."
Dib's eyes widened in surprise. He had expected something more like some sort of curse to freak everybody out, but he had just said that 'this isn't over', three unsettling words. And when they called him in to pronounce Red dead, Dib felt a shiver run down his spine.
But when putting his index and middle finger on Red's skinny wrist and feeling no heartbeat, relief hit Dib, and he pushed what Red had said out of his head. As far as he was concerned, this case was finished.
I DO NOT OWN INVADER ZIM OR SHERLOCK HOLMES, I DO NOT CLAIM TO AND I GAIN ABOSOLUTELY NO MONEY FROM WRITING THIS STORY. BOTH EPIC STORIES BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? GOOD.
A/N: I'M ON A ROLL! Well, sort of =D
I feel kinda guilty making Red the villain... he's one of my favs! But, hey, he is sort of villainy. Not a lot, but a bit. A tini-tiny bit. And, if anyone's wondering, yes the Tallest have their hovering uniform thingy, but 1: they don't have to wear it and 2: Red can't wear it cuz he's a criminal and everything. Oh yeah, and he's meant to have done a lot more bad stuff than Blackwood did in the movie, but I couldn't be bothered to type them in :P And the 'This isn't over' thing is kinda cliché-ish, but oh well... plz review :D
Btw, I have a feeling that I made a few typos, but this chapter has gone through so much changing and checking that I'm sick and tired of reading through it :P
Time in movie: 27 minutes 52 seconds
Words: 2,989