Author's Note: Amazing how much input you guys gave me... meaning a few PMs and couple of reviews, but that's enough to make me happy because somebody actually took a minute or two out of their day to give me ideas to work with! So, thanks to all of you guys! Love you so much! *hugs*
I've been doing some research(for a couple of the ideas I've been given) and I think I have a way to carry this story along at last! Not gonna give spoilers, though, 'cause that would be rude and I hate it when people spoil things for me, so why would I do that to you?
So, uh, yeah. Don't own Zim or Dib or Gaz or any of the canon characters. Just Tia and her family.
Do I have to keep telling you about the flames?
=== DOOM ===
It's been over two weeks since my dream. I haven't had any others like it, and I wonder if it was just my brain overreacting to the many video games I've been playing as of late. I think about it whenever I can, but it doesn't have any real meaning that I can see, other than I'm a hormone-ridden fourteen-year-old girl with hardly any life so I subconsciously fantasize about my best friend falling in love with me.
As if that would happen in this universe.
Sitting on my windowseat, I pull my laptop onto a pillow and open the Internet. I watch MSN news scroll across my screen- I stopped watching the local news over eight months ago out of irritation, so the Internet is my main source of news nowdays. I scowl at the George Zimmerman verdict announcement, which has been up since last night and severely pissed me off to the point that I cursed very loudly in front of Raemi, who I never curse in front of. I see a bulletin about a bombing in Moscow, one very similar to the ones that have been peppering the news as of late. I've been keeping track of them.
Cairo, Hong Kong, Syndey, Mexico City, and now Moscow.
I don't usually keep track of things on the news, but there are a few things that pique my interest- the George Zimmerman case, for instance, and these bombings. I can't help but feel something is wrong with these reportedly 'isolated' explosions. The details are all the same- aerial attacks by a craft no one saw or heard, no threats made, major damage and high casuality rates, and no evidence or trace of bomb shells near the explosion sights or anywhere else, in fact.
What astounds me is that I seem to be the only person to piece these things together. I can't find anything on my usual sites that speculate these bombings might be related. Not a single forum, not even on Yahoo or the Wikias, has any mention of the idea. I'm not one for conspiracy theories, mostly because I find a great deal of them either insulting or lacking in justifiable evidence, but this has 'government cover-up' written all over it. Either that, or the people of the world really are that stupid, but I doubt that as there are a few smart people out there- I mean, look at Dib and Gaz.
Forgetting my intial reasons for logging online, I pull my feet underneath me and open Word Pad on my computer. I type out notes on the bombings: where and when, the damage costs, casualty rates. I make sure to underline the similar things and leave out irrelevant information.
Note, I don't usually do this, but few other things have grabbed my interest like this. Maybe I'm the only one, but I don't care, because I know that these bombs are important. If they weren't, I wouldn't be so suspicious. Besides, it's the beginning of summer, I'm bored, and these bombings are more interesting than the rest of the news combined.
There's a knock on my door. "C'min," I call, too busy to care who it is.
"Tia, can I play in here?" I hear Raemi ask me shyly. I smile and look up from the computer screen.
"Sure, baby doll," I reply. The five-year-old grins and tugs in her little red wagon, full to the brim with her dolls. She sits on my bed and pulls a few of her dolls up with her. I return to the computer, typing feverishly as I try to get all my thoughts down at once. I half-listen to Raemi playing as I do so.
After a long while, Raemi goes quiet and I feel her stand next to me as I search on Google, her small hand holding up her weight as she leans over to try and see what's on the screen. "Whatchya doin'?" she asks innocently.
"Looking up some stuff, sweetheart," I answer.
"What kinda stuff?" She climbs up on the seat next to me.
"Stuff that you blow things up with." I copy the list I found onto my notes. Just as I finish adjusting fonts, there's a ping and a window opens up in the center of my screen. Mothman is requesting to video chat with you. I smile and click the 'accept' button. The window grows and Dib's face grins at me through the screen. A tiny corner camera shows how I look in the bottom left of the window.
"Hey, Tia!" Dib smiles. "Oh, you have Raemi with you."
"Hi Dibby!" Raemi waves, peeking into view.
"How's it going, dude?" I ask.
"Not bad, I guess. Dad's left for the lab again, and I figured I'd fill you in on my notes about Zim..." His eyes fall on Raemi, and he remembers my rule- don't talk about paranormal things in front of her. Not because I don't want her involved in that sort of thing, but she repeats almost everything she hears and I don't want to get in trouble with my step-mom for exposing her to my 'weird and dangerous nonsense'. "But you have company, so I guess it can wait," Dib finishes.
"Well, actually, you're just the person I wanted to talk to," I say quickly before he can change subjects and get me off track. I move the chat window to the side and maximize my notes. "There's been some weird stuff on the news-"
"I thought you didn't watch the news," Dib interrupts.
"No, that's what the Internet is for, dumba- ...dummy," I reply, catching myself before I curse. "Look, there's these bombings-"
"That's not really weird, Tia," Dib points out.
"Shuddup and listen to me!" I snap. He quiets. "These bombing are weird. As of last night, there's been five in two weeks, none of them are in the same country, and they're all similar."
"How?" Dib asks.
I explain my suspicions to him, the evidence I've pieced together. He's surprisingly interested in it, staying quiet and asking relevant questions only when I pause.
"Look, I can't find anything online. Normally, with something like this, there would be thousands of theory forums connecting these bombings, but I haven't found a single one," I say.
"You think this has something to do with the government?" Dib reduces.
"Maybe... which is why I need you to do me a favor."
"Oh, dear God..."
"Shuddup. I'm gonna e-mail you my notes. Do you think you could get in touch with your paranormal-network-thing and have them check it out?"
"The Swollen Eyeballs don't do conspiracy theories, Tia. You know that."
"I know, but... they're the only non-government-controlled group that I can think of that has the ability to look into this."
Dib is silent for a moment, thinking. "Why do you care? Normally, you couldn't give a damn what happens outside your life," he asks me suddenly.
"Language," I warn absently, motioning to Raemi, who has grown bored and gone back to play with her dolls on my bed. The question hits me, and I repeat it to myself. Why do I care what happens to the world? I think of the bombs, the deaths, the people affected. Injured, dead, homeless, hopeless people with no one to turn to and nothing to reassure them that everything is going to be all right, because the cops can't find out how this guy did it in the first place, let alone who he is and how to stop him.
In my mind's eye, I see the landscape from my dream. A dead Earth, burned to a crisp, uninhabitable and unable to recover. I shudder slightly at the horror.
"Because I have a feeling that this is bigger than just a bunch of random terrorist attacks," I say quietly. I lean in closer to the computer, only because it makes me feel that the conversation is more private than it actually is. "Will you help me? Please, Dib?"
The boy sighs and stares at me for a moment, regarding my sincere face. He must see how much I need him to do this, that it would make me feel so much better. "Fine," he groans. "But you're gonna have to come over here and explain everything to them, because I'm not gonna be embarrassed asking them to do a favor for someone that they barely even know. They tease me enough as it is."
I relax, pleased and grateful. I'll be willing to put up with a bunch of adults' bullshit if I can just get this feeling in my gut to stop.
"I'll come over tonight. Have a sleep-over. I'll say it's with Gaz so my parents won't freak," I say.
"All right. And then, we'll talk about Zim," Dib adds. I give a bitter laugh.
"You can talk about Zim. I'll be playing Vampire Piggy Slayer with Gaz," I say pointedly. We found a mod level a week ago that allows us to play side-by-side, as long as our Game Slaves are connected.
"Whatever," Dib rolls his eyes.
It takes a lot of convincing(and doing the kids' chores for them, but I do that anyway) for my parents to let me stay the night at Dib and Gaz's house. I bring my laptop and my Game Slave 3 along with a change of clothes. Raemi besg to come with me, but I know that if she does, I'll never hear the end of it from my step-mom. So I bend to her height and promise her that I'll take her to play with Dib and Gaz next time I meet up with them. This seems to be enough and she hugs me goodbye.
Dib and I sit in the middle of his room, surrounded by several floating screens. On each one is a member of Dib's Swollen Eyeball network, all of them simply silhouettes with milky-white eyes.
"Ah, Agent Mothman! You brought your girlfriend again," says one man mockingly. We both frown at him.
"I'm not his girlfriend!" I spit.
"She's not my girlfriend," Dib says at the same time.
"So, why did you call this meeting, Mothman? You said it was important," asks another man, one I think I recognize.
"My friend has some information and a favor to ask," Dib explains. I connect my laptop to him computer via a few wires and bring up my notes. According to what Dib told me, this means that my notes are opened on all the others' computers as well.
"I know this isn't exactly what you guys do," I begin. "And I understand if you don't wanna do it, but-"
"Wait, these are notes for bombings," says the man I might know somehow.
"Well, yeah..." I say almost sheepishly. "I've noticed that over the last two weeks, there's been five bombings in major cities all around the world." I click on a link to a world map that I drew on in Gimp, five red circles over the bombed areas. "Australia, Egypt, Mexico, China, and last night, Russia. Normally, I wouldn't be concerned, but..."
"These are all major cities," points out a woman.
"Yeah, I just said that," I reply, a bit annoyed.
"But not just major cities," she continues. "These are cities that represent each country they're in, whether it's the capital city or not. Famous cities."
Of course. The link I overlooked. "See, this is why I needed to talk to somebody other than you or Gaz," I say to Dib. "Second opinions catch things that we don't." I turn back to the lady. "Thanks for pointing that out."
"Isn't that why you brought us here?" she asks smugly.
"Uh, actually, no." I sigh. "I have reason to believe that some government organization, one I either haven't heard of or doesn't officially exist, is trying to keep the connections covered up."
"Why?" asks the first man who teased Dib and I.
"I don't know. Maybe this is something bigger than terrorism, maybe whoever they are that's covering it doesn't want the public to panic or jump to conclusions. Maybe they're being blackmailed into hiding it from the public. All I know is that I can't be the only person who's pieced this together, and yet I can't find anything that says I'm not."
I give them a moment to soak it in. "How do we know you're not just some crazy conspiracy theorist?" asks a guy who hasn't said anything yet.
"Uh, my friend doesn't believe in conspiracy theories," Dib covers for me. "She's shot down every single one of mine, so I know. If she thinks that something is wrong, then she's probably right. She does her research, and all of you can see that."
"And I don't make big deals out of things that I think I have no control over," I add. "If I thought that this wasn't important, I wouldn't have made Di- ...Mothman set this meeting up."
"So, what do you want us to do?" asks the one I swear I know.
"All I ask is for... two or three of you to step out of your comfort zone and do some some investigating. I've heard some of you are good hackers. If you can, like, find a way to get information, stuff that's not available to the public, help me prove that these aren't random attacks, that would be amazing." I hear the pleading in my voice, and I almost wince at how pathetic I sound.
There is a long, deafening silence. "We'll get back to you after we discuss this," says another woman, who seems to be in charge. All of the screens go blank, the Swollen Eyeball symbol glares at Dib and I in the absence of the agents on each screen. I droop and my stomach clenches.
"You know, it's okay if they don't believe you," Dib tries to reassure me. "They don't believe me most of the time, and I work with them." I say nothing in response. "Look, uh, I know you don't like it when I pry, but... there's something else, isn't there?"
I refuse to respond. Yes, there is, I want to say. For a moment, I almost give in. I almost tell Dib about my dream, about the twisting in my abdomen that I can't ignore, about the newest fear that's cropped up in me since that night sixteen days ago. But I don't, my pride taking over my resolve to be honest with one of my only friends in this world. He can't know about that, he just can't. He would laugh at me, or freak out, or... God, I don't really know what he would do, and I think that's what is keeping me from telling him. The uncertainty.
My eyes go over his features; I need to focus on something other than the dream and the bombs, something that I know well. The dim light of the computer screens makes the shadows on his face more prominent and sharp. His glasses reflect the light, so I can barely make out his golden eyes beneath them. The scythe in his hair is starting to zig-zag, like a lightning bolt. He's gotten taller than me, two or three inches.
His eyes fall on mine and my breath catches in my throat. I look down, avoiding his gaze. I wish they weren't such a rich, caramel-like brown. I can't count how many I've caught myself calling them 'beautiful'. It's embarrassing, mostly because it's true. They are a gorgeous shade of brown, much moreso than my nearly black ones.
We sit in the dimly lit room for what seems like hours, waiting for the Swollen Eyeballs to come back and give us their verdict. I close my eyes and pray that they say yes. I don't know why I need this churning in my stomach to be resolved, but I've never questioned my gut before and I'm not about to start now.
The leader woman appears on her screen. No one else shows up. My heart sinks.
"I'm sorry," she says. I close my eyes and sigh. I knew it was a long shot, I realize. "There's simply not enough evidence to support that these bombings are paranormal or governmental activity. If you come back to us with more concrete evidence, we'll reconsider. We will keep in touch, though."
"I understand," I say, not bothering to hide my disappointment.
The woman nods and I turn away. I don't want to talk to her anymore. I should've realized I'm the only one who I can really count on. Somehow, I'm going to have to find a way to hack into a goverment computer system and find the things I need myself.
"Sorry," Dib says. "Hey, maybe you'll have a better idea of what the guy's up to when he bombs the next place."
"Dib, we can't wait until he bombs the next city! For all we know, he'll be aiming at Hollwood, or New York, or even D.C.!" I shout, irritated by his lack of judgement. Dib shrinks back a bit, startled by my outburst. I groan and put a hand on my forehead. "Sorry," I sigh. "This whole thing just pisses me off."
"I know. That was kind of a stupid thing to say, though, huh?" Dib replies, a bit self-reprimanding.
"It was." I get up and walk to the door. "I'm gonna play video games with Gaz if you need me," I say nonchalantly. I need to do something mindless, something to get my mind off the disappointment.
Eventually, I collapse on the couch after playing Vampire Piggy Slayer for three hours. As I drift off to sleep, I'm vaguely aware of someone throwing a blanket over me and tugging a few unruly locks of hair out of my face. Goodnight, I hear Dib whisper softly in my ear.
I don't return it, and I'm sure he doesn't expect me to. I think nothing more of it and allow myself to fall asleep, perfectly comfortable and safe despite myself.
=== DOOM ===
I've been watching too much Sherlock.
I didn't mean to make this into a mystery- well, to Tia. We know exactly who's bombing the major cities of the world, don't we? What, you don't? Why not?
To be honest, I've been wanting to write about bombs since the Boston bombers. Dunno why, but I get a lot of my inspiration from the media, like the news.
And yes, I was so pissed off about the George Zimmerman case that I felt it needed a cameo. I almost put my foot through the TV, I was so mad. I'd go on about why it pisses me off so much, but this isn't the place, so I'll leave it at that.
Jesus, five hours to write that? I'm definitely out of practice.
Sorry if this doesn't have the same quality as the other chapters. I had to rewrite it so many times because I kept wanting to put in things and then I took them out and put them in a different place. I feel like I put too much emphasis on Tia's stress about getting information. I might rewrite it later if I feel like it. Or maybe I'll just leave this chapter as shitty as it is.