Dib and Zim sat on a rotting wooden bench in a cafeteria. They were waiting for the Control Brain to judge what punishment would be suitable for what they had done: trespassing, breaking in, domestic violence, entering warehouse without permission, reckless driving, stealing of a vehicle, terrorizing pedestrians and injuring 12 people while driving the cement truck. Six of the nine crimes only Zim had done.
Dib took off his glasses, cleaned them with his shirt, which only proved to fog them up even more, and slid them back on his head. He looked around at the grubby prisoners sitting at the wooden tables, chewing on greasy food which eerily reminded Dib of his days at Skool. He and Zim were the only ones not wearing the prisoner uniform, since they weren't really expected to be kept in jail, at least not for a long time. Dib took in a shaky breathe.
"This is your fault," Dib muttered to Zim. The Irken's antennae rose.
"Excuse me?"
"If we hadn't hung around those guys-"
"They still would've attacked us!" Zim snapped in, not allowing Dib to continue, "They were working for Red, they were ordered to attack."
Dib glanced at Zim then back at the rest of the cafeteria. "That's a surprise," he said sarcastically. Zim looked insulted by Dib's dry remark. Both of them stayed silent for a few long seconds, listening to the hollering in the hall; watching a man faking a sickness to get a bale; cautiously allowing the thick smell of chemical-based food drift up their nostrils - well, Dib's nostrils. After a while, Dib spoke up again. "I've been reading through some of my notes, lately," he stated, "notes I've made over the last few months."
"Why should I care, Dib-human," Zim tried to silence his friend, knowing more or less where this was going.
"I found it hard to figure them out but I think I've got a conclusion," Dib ignored him. "Would you like to hear it?"
"No-"
"I am physiologically disturbed," Dib sneered. Zim was trying to come up with a smart response but he couldn't think of anything. "Why else would I continually follow you into dangers that no sane person would go into?"
"Are you blaming me?" Zim said sharply.
"Yes!" Dib's tired voice tried to shout, "I am! You'll lead me right into my death, judging by the way it's going now! You made me loose the ring for Zita, wait till you make me lose my life!"
"You lost the ring? You idiot!" Zim couldn't suppress the start of a laugh.
"Because I went to that bloody house! I couldn't find it anywhere!" Dib's face started to look more hurt, "I can't just have a normal, happy life when you're floating about, can I? All I wanted was for me and Zita-"
"Stop complaining," Zim hissed back.
"I'm complaining? Since when do I complain? If I was a complainer, then why do I never criticize you for waking me up at three in the morning, or your mess, or you stealing my shoes?"
"Sharing is caring," Zim dryly replied, looking off to the side.
"Or you setting fire on the rooms, or doing tests on Gir?" Dib sighed, "And, most importantly, you seem to actually want me and Zita to break up. I don't know why you keep on taking everything from my life, ruining it and then giving it back as if to taunt me! You can be the biggest jerk if you really want to be!"
"Jerk?" Zim yelled, "You're just a human, you do not understand the real efficiency to my tactics!"
"Efficiency?" Dib was interrupted, when the speakers in the cafeteria switched on, a nasally voice beginning to speak.
"Dib Membrane, the Control Brain has decided you can leave the prison with a warning," it echoed through the hall. Standing up and giving Zim a fuming glance, Dib stomped over to the exit of the cafeteria. Zim watched Dib leave with a mix of spite and infuriation. Trying to take his mind off the situation, Zim took a deep breath and told himself that he'll be out of the jail within an hour.
Two hours had passed and Zim had received information that he was either going to stay in jail for two days or pay a fee, which was too high for Zim to even consider that route of escape. So, he decided to tough it out, even though, deep down, he had a feeling he should get out as soon as possible. Fortunately, his ticket out of the jail came in the form of inspector Flint.
"I knew you'd end up in jail at some point," Flint huffed, as Zim left the building, stepping outside to see the indigo eyed Irken waiting for him.
"Yes, um," Zim scratched his head, "that wasn't really part of the plan..."
Flint rolled his eyes and got out a newspaper out of his PAK, holding it out at Zim, "Please tell me you know what to do about this."
Zim saw the black-inked headlines 'Earth in Terror' and guessed it had something to do with Red.
"Not yet, no," he bit his lips. Flint sighed and put the paper back in his PAK.
"'Not yet'?" the Irken shook his head, "Well, you better figure something out quickly, before I kick you back into that jail. Everyone's crapping their pants with the thought of Red being resurrected and you're gunna have to at least give 'em diapers till you can sort this thing out."
"Diapers?"Zim blinked.
"It's a metaphor for saying you have to calm them down, one way or another," Flint folded his arms across his sinewy torso. "And let's start now. You're heading off to meet with someone."
"Who?"Zim asked.
"The guy who paid for your release," the inspector replied.
"I thought you paid for it."
"Please, Zim," Flint narrowed his eyes, glaring at Zim, "I wouldn't waste a money on you. You know that."
Flint turned around and led Zim to a grey ship, telling him that he wasn't coming along. Zim wasn't too sure if he should trust Flint – after all, Flint had said so himself that he didn't care for Zim's welfare – but Zim knew he wouldn't send him to his doom because he was the only detective who could remotely understand Red. So Zim obeyed, opening the ship's door. He was surprised to see a formally-dressed Irken sitting in the ship. He gave Zim a crooked smile with his zipper-like teeth. Glancing back at Flint, Zim gave him a questioning look. Flint mouthed 'hurry up', eyes slightly anxious. Shrugging off any questions floating around in his head and deciding that Flint was probably just being his impatient self, Zim sat on the seat next to the Irken at the wheel. Flint immediately grabbed the door and slammed it shut and walked away, arms folded tightly.
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," the Irken next to Zim said, "but I'm going to have to put this over you." The Irken pulled out a black material, putting it over Zim's head and starting to tie it. Zim struggled, giving the other Irken a few slaps and punches.
"Get off of me you disgusting-" Zim was broken off when someone who'd been hiding in the backseats put his arm around Zim's mouth and grabbed the Irken's arms, twisting them. The ship started to take off, the engine rumbling.
"Don't worry," Zim heard the Irken at the steering wheel say, "it's just the normal procedure."
Down on the ground, Flint had stopped walking away and had turned his attention back to the ship. He watched as it flew away, his antennae twitching irritably. Zim better not screw up in front of him, he sighed.
The blindfold was ripped off of Zim's head. The Irken's eyes took a while to get used to the bright light in the room he was in, but it wasn't long before he figured out that he was sitting in a wooden seat at a desk, facing another Irken. With a shock, Zim almost thought he saw Red, but when he noticed the Irken in front of him had lavender eyes instead Red's scarlet ones, he calmed down quickly. He glanced around the room, the deep purple walls and furniture confirming Zim's theories that someone high in status was owned this place – most likely the Irken in front of him, who was obviously a Tallest.
"Hi, Zim," the purple-eyed Tallest waved his two-fingered right hand. A glitter of a ring around one of his fingers caught Zim's eye. "I know you don't know who I am or where you are, so let me explain-"
"Don't waste your time," Zim almost sneered, "for where I am: I was a bit confused at first when I was blindfolded, but the ship flew over that large junkyard that smells almost as bad as the Savage Rat People. Then, we stopped near the only bakery that makes doughnuts with a specific glaze often used on Foodcourtia. After your henchmen finished stocking up on doughnuts, we got out on Rich Street, and I knew we were there because I didn't step on any trash and the streets are always clean on Rich Street. And for whom you are: those letters on your desk are addressed to 'Tallest Purple'. That little ring you're wearing has a symbol of ox horns, one usually associated with the 'Order': a group of magic-believing freaks."
Purple stared at Zim with surprise in his eyes for two seconds. "Stink and Spleen bought doughnuts and didn't share them with me?" he broke the silence, antennae lowering and eyes narrowing.
A door at the end of the room opened and another tall Irken walked in, a short Vortian trailing behind him, wearing tight goggles over his eyes that squeezed his head. Zim thought that the Planet Jacker was a rarity to see, but, seeing a Vortian was like seeing a unicorn. They forever had a grudge against Irkens, since Vortians had been backstabbed by their old allies. Vort had once been property of the Irken Empire, but, after a bit of rebelling and nagging, Vort was finally given back to the Vortians. It was a shock to see a Vortian on a planet with more than one Irken on it.
The two aliens made their way over to Purple, and the other Tallest, who's dark green eyes were narrowed towards Zim, gave Purple's chair a kick to tell him to stand up. Once all three of them were standing, Zim stood up too, not liking being the closest to the ground. The effort to be taller than everyone else didn't help much; Zim was only taller than the Vortian by two inches.
"I see we hunted him down," the tallest of the four, the green-eyed Irken, said dryly.
"I told you I would find him!" Purple chipped proudly, a smug grin on his face.
"Indeed..." the other Irken nodded, still looking at Zim. He cleared his throat, starting to address Zim, "I'm Tallest Spork and this is Lard Nar," he gestured to the Vortian.
"Pleased to meet you, Zim," the Vortian's squeaking voice called out.
"Uh huh," Zim didn't even glance at Lard Nar, keeping his eyes firmly on the taller Irkens.
"So, Zim..." Purple started, failing at his attempts to make this meeting formal, "You know about the Order, right? 'Cause I don't really feel like going through a whole explanation-"
"I know," Zim almost snapped.
"How do you know?" Lard Nar leaned on the large desk, seeming to be testing Zim's skills. Zim gave off a snort.
"I know a lot of things, four-eyes," Zim retorted. Lard Nar gave a look of contempt.
"And what do you think of the Order?" Spork fixed Zim with a glare that told the short Irken that he shouldn't even think about insulting him. He was taller than both Red and Purple, so Zim immediately got the message that he was a Irken of extremely high-status.
"It's... interesting... for magical stuff..." Zim avoided Spork's eyes, but kept his proud expression.
"I know you don't share our beliefs, Zim," Lard Nar commented, "and we don't expect you to. We just expect you to share our fears..."
"Fears? What are you talking about, Vortian?" Zim looked confused.
"It's Tallest Red, dipstick," Spork snarled, "I thought Flint would hint the subject of this conversation to you."
"You know Flint?" Zim questioned. Spork gave a smirk.
"Just because we're in the Order doesn't mean we don't have friends on the outside," Spork's tongue curled around the words - words that seemed coated something underneath them.
"The point is that Red's on the loose and he's causing chaos. We want to offer help to stop him," Purple finally spoke, his goofy voice sounding nervous.
"Who said I need help?" Zim challenged the Vortian.
"You don't get it, Zim," Purple shook his head, "We've got more power over... stuff. Ya know? Like Spork, he's got big power over the police. Lard Nar's got places in the technological area I've got my own fair amount of... what's the word..."
"Authority," Spork cut in, "so, Zim, are you going to expect our offer?"
Zim hesitated. As far as he knew, these three could have something to do with Red, though the two Tallest's hovering uniforms and the Vortian's neat clothes certainly gave off the idea that they weren't in Red's business. But then, a theory popped into Zim's head.
"Why should I trust you?" Zim replied, "I don't really think I can trust Red's brother."
All three of the members of the Order looked taken aback. Zim walked around the table and came up to Purple, looking up at the Tallest with suspicious eyes.
"You and Red are twins... you both came from the same capsule," he started. "It rarely happens, but, when it does, the two twins will look the exact same, height and everything, but, their eyes' colours often 'splits' in half. If you were born as one Irken, you would've had the common purplish-red eyes, but your egg spilt as well as the DNA. A lot of the time, the two Irkens will be named after their eye colour to avoid any confusion."
Purple's mouth dropped open out of shock and both Spork and Lard Nar stared at Zim silently.
"How did you know that?" Lard Nar blinked at Zim.
"Why do you keep on asking that question?" Zim glared at the Vortian.
"You're freaky..." Purple pointed at Zim with one of his skeletal figures.
"Yes. Yes I am," Zim said proudly, a smug expression growing on his face.
"So, um," Lard Nar gave Zim a tap on his shoulder, "You'll let us help out? Wait, I've got a good idea!" The Vortian opened the desk's drawers, earning a 'hey!' from Purple. He pulled out a small tattered book, giving it to Zim.
"That's the book of spells," Spork said as Zim flicked through the book, looking at the strange pictures of bones, beasts and geometrical shapes, "It's the source of his power."
"I'll just warn you," Purple gave a tug at Zim's left antenna to make him face him, "Those five girls he killed... they weren't the first. There were others that he used to increase his strength. I never believed in magic, but the things he was doing forced me to believe in it. I think it's the only way to defeat him. There's something behind his tricks... I know it..."
Zim blinked at Purple, suddenly realizing that Purple probably knew the most about Red than anyone else.
"And, as his brother, I should try to stop him," Purple added more solemnly.
"So, will you allow us to lend a hand?" Spork asked, his voice harsh and monotone. Zim turned around, giving Spork an amused look.
"We shall see how this case goes..." Zim thrust the book into Lard Nar's hand and went back to facing Purple, "I'd keep my head up if I were you..."
"What? Why?" Purple narrowed an eye.
"Red wants me dead. If you know more about him than me, he'll want you dead, too. And I think you'd be the first to go bye-bye," Purple's eyes looked shocked, "not to scare to." Zim made his way towards the door where Spork and Lard Nar had come from, exiting the room. Spork raised a non-existent eyebrow.
"Does he know that isn't the way out?" he muttered to the other aliens in the room.
"He'll figure it out at some point," Purple sighed, "I need to go find Stink and Spleen; they've got some doughnuts they haven't told me about..."
I DO NOT OWN INVADER ZIM OR SHERLOCK HOLMES AND DO NOT CLAIM TO. SO, BUGGER OFF, YOU STUPID 'PROTECT IP ACT'.
A/N: *Collapses* Yikes… I've been busy. XD I'm so sorry for the late update. Thank you to Invader Johnny for reminding me that I still need to finish this. Just had a lot of things to shift through, lately, so this had kind of fallen to the bottom of a pile that is luckily becoming smaller. Updates will hopefully occur sooner, too. =)
Oh, and, my writing style has changed a bit. It wouldn't be very noticeable here, as I wrote the majority of this quite a while ago, but it has changed significantly – for the better, I assure you. XD
Thank you for reading and I'm sorry about the super late update! =(
… 'Late'; 'Update'… That rhymes… :3 *Shot*