A forest, 5:43 PM:
If you look hard in the woods around Tokyo-3, Misato Katsuragi always says, you might very well find a studio Ghibli watermark. The place's tear-to-eye-bringing scenery has been sited numerous times in support of intelligent design. Not that Zim had anything resembling earth standards of beauty in his prickly and unstable mind. Where an exemplary human would have sat and observed quietly for several hours, the second-shortest invader fought to keep his snacks down. He tried averting his eyes, but there was nowhere to avert them to. He couldn't very well close them, as he had learned through a bumpy trial and error process that had left a bit of Irken nose blood on several trunks. Zim shuddered as he passed one of them. Imbecilic moss.
Earlier, when confronted with the stiflingly thick air, the skin-colored flora, and the so-stupid-they-were-dumb indigenous population, the young invader had assumed the tallest were building up his strength by placing him in such hostile and uncomfortable conditions, and he had tried to enjoy it. Zim's short attention span murdered what was left of that notion in a back alley after the first week, and he was now spitting curses at any tree that would listen. It was about to get worse, as it always does. Things rarely stay the same, in stories like these.
While formal diagnoses of mental state or intelligence are not an Irken's forte ("Learning disability? You're defective. Problem with social cues? Defective. Looked at me funny? Defective. Knew it all along,") we can be reasonably certain that Zim wasn't stupid. Relatively, he was very, very deranged, but he wasn't so delusional as to suspect nothing. Although the Irken did live in a state of continual paranoia that ebbed and flowed like the tides of a toxic ocean, now was one of the times that suspicion coincided with reality. Someone was watching him, as he thought, and someone was far overestimating his abilities, or else they would have grabbed him the minute he was alone.
The person in question was at present in a state of panic over the spider legs Zim employed for locomotion from his PAK. Through apparent coincidence, this person had just the right equipment. A lot of time was wasted crouching around and sweating because this person, who's name was Classified (really, that's his code name. Long story), wasn't informed of this.
He figured it out for himself though. Overcoming his nerves, Classified made shorter work than he expected on Zim with a batch of delicious neurotoxins. This would not do. He'd really hoped the little bugger would escape, then he wouldn't have to bring it back to base. Debating with himself behind a shrub while ants climbed into exciting bodily crevices, Classified arrived at the conclusion that getting fired would be worse than handling the demon child.
Damned if you do, damned if you don't, the operative thought to himself. He leaned down.
Fucking pretty out here, though.
Unspecified location, 3:27 AM:
"Name?"
"I KNOW YOUR PLAN. YOU'RE TRYING TO MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME, BUT IT WON'T WORK. I HAVE ALL THE RIGHT FRIENDS IN ALL THE RIGHT PLACES, AND MOST OF THEM ARE LOOKING FOR THE EXCUSE TO BASH PINK MONKEY FACE IN!"
Zim gulped dusty air in, almost swooning as his scaly cheeks inflated. He had just noticed the removal of his disguise, which gave him free reign with insults. There was one light source in the room, a lamp, one that impressively forced the light to cover only Zim's chair, whether the illumination wanted it or not. Zim, who would have surveyed the situation immediately if he had been a proper invader, only remembered to do so now. He was tied to a chair. Okay, that was all his senses could ascertain. No big deal. He could just saw through this with the-
… Missing PAK.
Why wasn't-?
Oh, there was his lifeclock, like an unwanted wake-up call. They must have just removed the PAK. All right, ten minutes 'til doom. Remaining calm was not an option.
After a thirty-second interval of hysterics, Gendo interrupted, making sure not to show his face (although Zim really wouldn't recognize him). "I asked for your name," he said, as calm as an approaching angel.
"-SPREAD YOUR REMAINS INTO SO MANY BUCKETS THAT ALL OF ALTERNIA WOULD BLUSH- what?" the Invader interrupted himself. Even he was not immune to the carefully weaponized voice of one NERV commander.
"Your name, I need your name." Ikari was, granted, winging it, but he got the job done. Zim gulped, then tried to pass it off as a growl. The result was hilarious, and couldn't have been replicated by Richard Horvitz if he tried.
"My name is Zim."
"It's your real name?"
"Yes."
A pause. "We'll come back to that later," Gendo said.
Zim sneered. "Do you doubt me, human?"
Another pause.
"You call me 'human'. Is that meant to imply you are not?"
"Wow, you're brains are almost as empty as a Vortian's after a good probing."
More pausing. Edward Cullen would have a fit. Then some scribbling, a dry cough, and a, "What is a Vortian?"
"A sentient species native to planet Vort. They have funny horns," The Irken intoned. He froze. "Listen, stinkcreature, I hate you and you apparently hate me. There's no changing that. But I am about to die, due to the idiotic removal of my PAK. So… unless you want to deprive the universe of my genius, if I were you, I'd-"
"What is a PAK?"
Zim leered exaggeratedly in annoyance. "It is my all-purpose utility structure. Backs up my personality, memories, and identity, acts as many extra appendages, and encodes my role in the glorious empire of IRK," He recited, as per protocol.
Pauses, pauses, pauses. Big enough to shove a horse in 'em.
"And you will die without it."
"Correct."
"But it has your identity backed up, as it were."
"You are correct, sir." The Invader mocked.
"When was the most recent back up?"
"It does an emergency one when it senses it's about to be removed- look I really don't see-"
"Are you truly that thick?"
Zim froze. "What do you mean, hippo… potamus? Campus? C'mon help me out. I'm loosing my grip with the, uh… head… thing. The thing in my head."'
Gendo stood up, forcing the scrape of his chair to slice right through the dark. "You mean, 'hipocrate', and 'brain,' respectively, I think. How long to you have to live, by the way?"
Zim squinted at his lifeclock. "9 minutes, two seconds."
"Should be enough time to prove you aren't bluffing. Good evening."
NERV Commander's office
Zim was not bluffing. He was, in fact, dead by the time Gendo entered his room. Lucky that they had unearthed such alien coding on the PAK machine. He had it sent to Membrane- if that man's supercharged brain couldn't decipher it, no human could.
A half an hour of nervous waiting followed, then about thirty seconds of expertly concealed surprise, which eventually receded into icy analysis of Membrane's research. The professor sputtered excitedly over the intercom- "This has profound implications for humanity! If only I could let the children know, but that of course would jeopardize everything we've built up…" yadda yadda yadda yadda. "…You don't think I've been overdoing it with the fake skepticism, do you, old chum?"
If Ikari's brain had a face, it would have snorted. Only of you counted public accusations of insanity towards your own son as "Overdone". Good grief, the man actually did more damage by trying to connect with his estranged son, opposed to the wise choice of letting sleeping dogs lie, as in Gendo's case.
"And even better," the professor continued, not stopping for breath if it would save his life (which it should, under normal circumstance), "The dormant AI in there is fully compatible with EVA unit 005. I believe we've found a power source for the Sixth Child!"
Gendo froze. This was something. Kihl Lorenz had been dropping hints about how they'd better get SEELE's pretty little secret weapon in the cockpit soon, the way instrumentality seemed to be darting in the corners of everyone's eye. "Shall I call him?" The NERV commander expected, and wanted, a no, but was met with a "Sure, sure!" and decided to make the most of it.
He got up slowly, entered the greenroom (Fuyutsuki would only be a hamper in a private call like this), and pressed a certain sequence of buttons that recognized his DNA superbly. An image flashed in the ensuing blackness. It wasn't Lorenz. Ikari gave a little twitch to his left eyebrow that set said image in a bad mood for the rest of the day. It was a reedy young female. Her eyes were made only the more buggish by copious makeup, and her hair was the oddest iridescent indigo. Kids these days, Ikari thought, with their gene-altering fashion sense. Lorenz did ensure her a pretty penny, he heard, so long as she remained his pseudo-prisoner. He still was foggy on the details, though.
"Ahem," She cleared her throat spasmodically, "Mr. Lorenz has allowed me speak to you sir, since I requested." Her voice was ragged, yet polite, and had a certain cadence about it, suggesting that she was always reminding herself that screaming wouldn't solve anything.
"For you, Mr. Ikari," Her hologram continued," I have composed a poem."
He nodded. Dear god, was she blushing? She was around Rei's age. And hadn't Soryu demonstrated her affiliation with Kaji-
He was cut short by her recital.
"Ahem:
For all my life I've been looking for someone like you,
Someone with a head like yours, and a torso, too,
Birds sing, and YOU'RE GONNA PAY."
Zim's base, 7:57 Am:
Edaail, needless to say, was sick of dark purple. After wishing for thousandth time that the tank's optical sensor was in greyscale. (And the millionth time that he had that fucking body back, and the billionth time for his original form,) he noticed what the computer had been mulling over for the night.
"Is Zim not here?" the Nehindei sent into the data mainframe.
The computer gave a bewildered virtual start. "Yes, he's not" he said, trying to sound apathetic, but coming off as strained and nonplussed.
"Well, why do you think that is? Out with it, good man!" The Angel Occasionally Known as Sachiel urged.
"Well, uh... y'see, he's… I have no direct information on-"
"No, you don't, you never do," Edaail sighed, trying to lead back in the tank, and finding his lack of motor skills apparent. "Where's that little squeaky thing that's always annoying everyone and following him around?"
"Minimoose?"
"…No. Gir, I think. Who or what is minimoose?"
A beat of silence.
"I have no Idea."
"Okay…" Edaail wasn't dealing with a drooling idiot, or a delusional psychopath, but the hardware did come off as a little slow, pardon the pun. Still, the Nehindei had room to work with, if he could be patient. "Well, where is GIR?"
"Oh… out in Tokyo-3, testing that new guidance program," the computer sighed, happy to get into a comfortable train of thought. Or just to speak in general.
"And by that you mean he's lost, rambling around the city?"
The computer's voice had a darkly humorous edge. "I believe so,
"So you only do you not know exactly where Gir, is, you don't know exactly where Zim is. Must be a party over here!"
The AI took a sharp intake of cyber-breath. "I uh… I'm actually programmed for loyalty. Kind of worried here, to be honest, but I can't do a sweep for their energy signature. Too busy masking the locale."
Bingo, the perfect opportunity, thought Edaail. "I could look for them in that artificial human…"
"Whoa, whoa, absolutely not," The computer intoned, sounding very in over his head. He wasn't used to mouthy prisoners.
"Then maybe you could do a manual search? I'm sure something like that tin can is compatible with your superior programming." Flattery wouldn't normally work, but like Edaail had noticed, it was a slow entity he was dealing with.
"That's uh, that's not really how programming works-"
"But you could give it a shot, yes?"
Silence. For a sobering moment, Edaail wondered if this might not work…
"Alright, if you promised maintain the masking software, then-"
"Sure, sure!" He was ecstatic, yet strained. Any minute now something could go wrong. The fallen angel needed to act fast. "If Zim would zap me black and green afterwards, do you think I'd risk it?"
"Ah… Okay… I guess not…"
"Good luck on your search." That was a little cocky. But it worked all the same. The computer's shoddily programmed mind was confused, yet easily influenced. He failed to realize yielding Edaail full control of the base had- well, yielded full control of the base to Edaail. And now or never was his time to contact a friend.
A transcript:
It is I.
YOU LIVE?
Yes.
WHERE ARE YOU?
Here.
AH, YES, I SEE.
It is good to speak to brethren again. So long it feels that I have been trapped.
I WILL DO MY BEST TO FREE YOU. AND WE WILL DESTROY THIS MOCKERY TOGETHER.
Yes, about that…
Another transcript, some time in the future:
VORT: Greetings, almighty tallest. May your heads pierce the heavens, and-
THE MASSIVE: Yeah, uh huh. Listen, Warden Lard, congrats on the speedy conquer by the way, but we just got some rather, uh- disquieting information from one planet "earth".
VORT: I heard. The defective Zim is alive, and harboring a nehindei ally in his base, correct?
Beat
THE MASSIVE: How in the hell-?
VORT: News travels fast in these circles, sir. Believe me, I apprehended the rumormongers. But now you say this is true, and I fear for the empire.
THE MASSIVE: Exactly, us to. So we'd thought we'd take the discreet approach, and just, you know…
VORT: Give some of our prisoners surprise parole? Secret surprise parole?
THE MASSIVE: Can it be done? (beat, then laughter) Nah, just joshing' ya. Of course it can be done. You do it or we kill you.
VORT: (nervous laughter) Y-yes, sir, yes.
THE MASSIVE: Strictest confidence, right warden?
VORT: Of course, sir.
THE MASSIVE: Good man. Now, to begin, I think we'll need a conference with prisoner D-16.
(beat)
VORT: D-16 sir? You mean-
THE MASSIVE: I know full well whom I mean.
VORT: Yes sir. (scrambling, sound of keys tapping. Ten-minute pause).
VORT: Red, you old bastard, how are you?
THE MASSIVE: Fine, Megatron. Let's talk business.