Chapter 14: Flectere si nequeo Superos, Acheronta movebo(-latin)

There's a lesson hidden in everything

you just have to find it.

-Dorian Innes

ZIM rummaged through paper after paper, file after file completely frustrated after not finding anything significant after hours of exploring and getting lost. This laboratory had been a complete and utter waste of time. It was similar to the one he had been in briefly hours ago with the...Pepito. Stalactites reigned from on high on the ceiling, some even met and combined with the grey stalagmites on the floor. In between the large stalactites, bright white rectangles shown florescent light out into the darkness cutting through it like a knife. On the right side of the cavern, a wall of large white cryostasis pods stood side by side, their frosted glass doors hiding their insides. Steel operating tables were lined up the left side against the walls, their silver surfaces littered with metal instruments. The only difference were the three filing cabinets near a light blue door and the metal and glass cupboards lining the left side of the room. He gave the papers in his hand a quick look over before tossing them over his shoulder onto the floor with a frustrated growl. He hopped out of the top filing drawer into a huge pile of papers coming up to his chest. He wadded through the papers, musing aloud, "This is ridiculous! We've spent hours searching and found nothing! WHY would pig smellies keep worthless paper scraps? They're just chicken scratches."

"Itty bitty chicken nugget scratches." Gir added from beneath the sea of papers.

"If I were in charge such things would be thrown away and the idiots along with'em. C'mon, GIR. The next room AWAITS!"

"Woo!" Girs head popped out of the sea of black and white. He spewed paper airplanes out of his mouth, giggling as they flew away. "I'm a pa-PAR volcano."

"No, GIR. Don't be no smart." Zim grabbed one of the airplanes, crushed it in his mighty fist, and threw the paper angrily at his slaves stupid silver head. The paper ball bounced off the robot, causing it to begin another giggling fit. The invader was about to knock the slave senseless when he felt something.

Sensed something.

He whipped his head around to face the blue door, his antennae shuddering viciously. He felt them before he smelt them. The familiar sensation of an invisible hand lightly tickling the cilia on his antennae told him someone was coming. The smell of blood, sweat, fear and urine he picked up told him this was bad. Heavy footsteps and raised voices just outside the door confirmed it. Zim turned around, grabbing Gir in a single swoop. He looked quickly around the lab looking for a safe place to hide. They were so close. He looked up and found the perfect hiding spot-an empty patch between four stalactites. The voices stood outside the door. Zim extended his SPYDR legs as high as he could make them go. The knob turned- he practically flew into the stalactites pointed asylum-and a group of earthinoids stormed in. Zim covered Girs mouth with a gloved hand and held him tighter in case the robot tried to escape. He counted seven earthinoids in all-one leader, two obviously in trouble, each one having two guards holding him from running. All of them were wearing the same white lab coats and bug eyed goggles. Zim slowly moved forward down the stalactites, quiet as the yumak stalking its prey, intrigued as he watched the leader scream "Bring them to there knees!" and the four men blindly shove them to the ground. Their knees make a strange twap noise when hit against the hard stone. Irkens did not operate this way. He had never seen earthinoids operate this way.

Fascinating.

The leader rubbed his blue gloved hands through his black and yellow hair. He walked away from the two men, one was an old human-so old his hair was silver as metal-the other barely an adult. Both of them had red rims around their eyes,.. why? The young one smelled like urine. Did he... did he pee himself? Sick. The leader walked toward the young man, carefully removed his goggles, then, suddenly, backhanded the young one. The boy spat out blood. The old man lunged at him, fighting the grips of guards A & B. "Leave him alone!"

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" The leader screamed. Zim looked quickly at the faces. Eyes concealed with bug eyed goggles, impossible to read, impossible to see. The leader pointed a shuddering hand at the youngest one and said, "Put him on a table." The guards for the young one-begging and pleading and screaming-dragged him against his will to the operating table directly below Zim. They set him down with a thud. The leader strode quickly to their side and ordered them to hold the boy down. The boy struggled but soon started sobbing violently, his sobs replacing his screams. The whites of the boys eyes were clearly visible to Zim, the gaps quickly blocked and unblocked by the boys grey pupils. He was panicking. Not good. The leader reached under the table and brought out straps of leather and tied his chest, then middle section, then legs tightly to table. The old mans screams were getting annoying. "NO, please don't touch him it was me please NOO! NOo-ooh-oh." Guard B put a hand over his mouth but Zims hearing was so sharp he could still make out the words in the muffled scream. "Please no don't touch him it was meno don't stop, stop, stop-" He chose to ignore the mans pathetic pleading and searched for the leader who, had at some point, wandered over to the large steel cabinets. The leader opened one of the doors up with a creak, reaching immediately for one of the many bottles inside. He grabbed one, read the white label quickly and walked calmly back to the boy. The room became very quiet. He leaned on his elbows holding the bottle so the prisoner could see it.

"You know, Jared I never really would've pegged you for a squealer. You were a good friend to me, ya know that right? Almost like a son." The leader gazed disappointedly at the bottle, his voice smooth like silk. The boy-Jared hiccupped, his face tight with fear. Zim felt a shudder run down his spine as the leader used his other hand to gently stroke the boys pale face. "But all friendships must end eventually I suppose. He grabbed Jareds face harshly, squeezing his cheeks together. His voice took on an edge, "Why? Who? Who did you tell?!"

The boy said nothing. How could he? The leader was squeezing his face so hard it was turning red around his cheeks.

"Tempest mayb-" Guard B began.

"Shut up, Caleb! You're not paid to speak."

"You don't pay us at all."

"And with that attitude your not going to be paid!" The leader threw his head towards the brown haired body guard. He looked at the now prisonerless guards, a chocolate skinned man and a bald white man. Tempest let go of Jareds face. He gestured to them, "Get his clothes off of him." The men complied swiftly and silently, grabbing surgical scissors and scalpels exposing his chest, sending the pieces floating on to the ground. Within minutes the boy was naked, giving Zim his first ever view of a human with out his clothes. He didn't know whether to laugh or gag or both. Their bodies were apparently covered with hair, the most covering their pectorals slowly narrowing making a light line down their stomachs to their... Zim felt bile rise in his throat. Oh, yuck. Once they were done, the leader waved them away. They walked over to help restrain the other prisoner. The bald one scooped up a piece of clothing from the floor and jammed the scrap into the old mans mouth. The guard-Caleb moved his hand over the choking prisoners mouth and whispered a soft "Thanks Trent." to the bald man. Trent nodded a little taking his place beside Caleb. The leader-Tempest?-walked back over to Jared, unscrewed the lid, dipped a glass dropper into the bottle, and pulled it out, the dropper hovering above him. Tempest leaned his head down and whispered so softly Zim knew only he could hear, "Sorry, Jared. Nothing personal, just can't have any lose ends. No hard feelings?"

The Jared boy spoke for the first time, his voice so young and scared it shuddered and cracked, "I nev-ER... putus in... danger." He took a ragged breath. "Everything... I did was... what I thoug.. was right..."

"There's a saying about the best intentions, Jared." Tempest spoke the words gently almost kindly, "The road to hell is paved with them. Tell me how it looks when you get there."

He squeezed the dropper.

The boy howled, his back arching as drop by drop the liquid fell out onto his face. Zim would've liked to cover his antennae but couldn't risk dropping Gir. So he heard the boy scream, his voice rising and falling on a same continuing breath. Where the liquid fell, it fell through him. Resting gently at first on his pale skin, then ate it's way through turning skin rose pink then red then maroon brown, at last burning through his skin onto his pink muscles then swiftly gaining speed and burning down to his skull. Zim felt wonder and DISGUST and bile rise up into his mouth. He wished Tempest or someone would shut him up or something. The boys screams echoed around him, in Zims antennae he could hear every wobble of his never ending agony in every note. Finally, Zim couldn't hold it. He managed to open the top of his slaves head and puke inside the container, the bitter stomach acid with a horrid grape after taste expelled itself up his throat and out of him. Gir was quivering beneath him. Zim had never been weak or squeamish (something he was proud of) but this was... gross. He was an invader, he knew that. Invaders do not get wussy. But this-he felt another wave of vomit threaten to come up again. He forced himself to not look away as Tempest moved downward towards the boys... parts. The howling got worse. Louder. Harder to listen to. Zim closed the lid, hoping it would contain the wretched smell of puke. Their was a shifting sensation in his arms as Gir turned around and buried his face in his shoulder. He ignored the slaves pathetic attempt for comfort, watching on... waiting for them to stop... waiting for the moment to escape...

He watched on.

After what felt like hours later the screams became shorter.

Raspy-er.

Softer.

Zim looked down numbly. After listening to someone scream so much you become used to it. You learn to think over it as it becomes background noise. It loses its bite after a while. He took one look over at the body and looked down. He was surprised when he heard the quiet breaths of the boy. He looked over at Tempest standing by near death Jared. He didn't notice he was breathing? Why? Zim could only see the top of his head but his breaths were irregular-he was trying to gain control. So that was why. Tempest hunched over, taking a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. He looked around the room freezing as he beheld the mess Zim had made with the file cabinet earlier. He left the table and kicked a stray paper littering the ground. "This place is a dump." There was a brief moment of silence before Tempest blew out a sigh. He straightened himself up suddenly and shouted, "BURN IT! ALL OF IT! NOW!"

The four guards looked unsure of themselves. The brown one asked, "Sir, the boss doesn't like it when you burn stuff."

"Fuck off, Volent." Tempest snapped. He raised his middle finger at the chocolate skinned man. "Just. Fuck. Off. And. Do it! And leave him here too! Better to kill two birds with one stone than deal with one of the birds later." He pointed a blue finger at the gagged old man. The old man didn't even notice when the arms relinquished their grip upon him; he sunk down on the ground and held his face in his hands, an action so unfamiliar he couldn't understand it's purpose. Hiding his face wouldn't save him from dying. The fourth guard-a girl with brown hair moved to stand beside Tempest as he walked out of the room. Zim moved slowly and silently down towards the door. Caleb, Volant, and Trent didn't notice him; they were too busy lighting the papers and securing the old man to another operating table. As soon as he touched the floor, Jared moved his head towards the door. Zim froze. The boys face was horrendous, hardly a face at all. Yellow, brown, and red marks with pink borders covered his face and body, any skin that was NOT burned or eaten away had turned a flushed pink. Patches of singed blond hair fell into his face temporarily hiding portions of skin. The boy mouthed something. Zim turned and walked out of the room and looked down the hall in time to see Tempest and the brown haired girl turn right down the hallway. Zim activated his SPYDR legs and used them to walk over top of them, dangling from the ceiling, silent and slow. The female guard spoke first, her voice pealing out like a bell, "You gonna be okay?"

"Should've trusted my instincts." He mumbled under his breath. Tempest shook his head, "I never thought it was him... not Jared-"

"You did what you had to do."

"No. I didn't."

"What-no!" The female objected. She stopped suddenly, turning on the torturer with such fearlessness Zim was sure she was going to pay, but the man stood still as a sculpture. "He was a traitor-"

"No, he wasn't." Tempest shook his head, staring down at the floor. He heard the woman give a sharp intake. He wasn't a traitor. Zim tried to wrap his head around the purpose of the little exercise. Tempest looked up at her, shoving his hands in his pockets angrily. His voice rang off the stone walls "The papers on the floor, someone was looking for something. I don't know why or what they were looking for but they were looking for something... and they couldn't find it. Jared was with you, correct? So it couldn't have been him."

Shaking, the woman backed away, "No. No. Nono, no, no, no! This was-I didn't-we didn't. Of course not how could we? This... is bad." Though Zim could only see the top of her he could tell she was distraught; he could smell her fear, her tears. Stupid emotional bags of filth. Absolutely no self control. Zim silently wretched in disgust. The girls voice echoed, "It couldn't have been him. The moles still inside." She finally noticed that the whole time Tempest had stood staring at his hands, cloaked in blue rubber, turning them over and back, over and back. She took a step closer to Tempest and, for some reason, reached out and touched his arm with such timidness it was sad. "Hey... it's okay. It's... a mistake-but it's not your fault. How could we know? How could you know? We're going to be okay. How could you know?"

"Hannah... "

"... yes?"

"... Thank you." Tempest reached a gloved hand out and interlocked his fingers in hers. Zim watched confused as they closed the gap between them and walked side side down the tunnels, glowing green crystals turning the yellow in Tempests hair a sick yellow green. They stopped at a blue door and went inside. Zim followed. Inside was an office with a computer on a white metal desk. There was a strange grey floor to ceiling locker thingy near the door. Zim carefully opened the door and slid inside. It was dark inside, and queit. He could hear his light breathing around him. He backed deeper into the locker thingy, surprised by how far back he was able to go before touching a soft wall.

"Occupodo!" a whisper shot out into the darkness. Zim turned and found him face to face with a pair of glowing red eyes. Zims eyes narrowed till the world was seen through tiny slits, "You? What're you doing here?"

Life is simple.

We just insist on complicating it.

-Dorian Innes

Sorry for the mix up and to all those who read my previous one and thought "WHAT THE F!" . The calamity has ended, the hospital is shutting down, the war is over, the dump has exploded, you can stop sending me nasty PMs now.