Dib awoke some time later and moaned groggily, lifting a hand to his pounding head. He looked around, blinking sleep crust from his functional eye. Daylight filtered into the room from the boarded windows. He shifted to get up and something tumbled from his lap. He looked down and frowned, reaching to pick up his trenchcoat and a grey hooded sweatshirt. Dark brown spots speckled the front of the shirt. Peering closer, he realized it seemed suspiciously like blood. Dib looked around the room quickly before slipping the slightly too-large sweater on. He felt self-conscious wearing someone else's blood (or maybe it's his, who the hell knows anymore) as he made his way to the door.
Floorboards creaked as he ventured from the room and down the hall, glancing in rooms he passed. It seemed to be an abandoned hotel, or maybe efficiency apartments. A cave-in before the stairs at the end of the hall stopped him and he turned, going back the way he came. The door to a room at the opposite end was closed and he opened it slowly, peeking in. The scent of blood lit the room faintly and he stepped inside, eyes drawn to the splash of drying red in the middle. Dib stepped back and leaned against the doorframe, vomiting weakly.
A man's body lay twisted and naked in the center of the empty room, it's skull smashed in. The man's shoes and jeans were removed and discarded, and no shirt was to be seen. Dib looked down at his sweatshirt with growing horror and quickly pulled it off, throwing it against the wall and turning to flee.
The alien stood in the center of the hall near the cave-in, watching him silently.
Panicked, Dib backed into the room and slammed the door, twisting the bolt on the door. He tried not to look at the body as he ran to a window, sliding it up hastily. He pushed a rotted board loose and looked down. The ground was a sickening distance away, at least five stories. As he contemplated his options the doorknob turned, squeaking, and the door rattled. There was a pause as it didn't budge and then a crack of wood as it was forced inward with relative ease. The human turned and watched as the alien stepped into the room, clothed in more fitted pants and a simple black shirt. No doubt from another slain human.
Zim glanced indifferently at the body as he passed it, stepping up to Dib. The alien stood at least a foot under him but he carried himself drawn to full height with an air of well-fed pride. Dib backed against the window, looking for anything to defend himself with and coming up empty. The alien stopped before him and he raised an arm, prepared to fight. Zim squinted at him, then draped the sweatshirt over it and turned to leave. Dib lowered his arm slowly, taking the shirt in his hands. He slid it on hesitantly. It was cold in the building and, well, it's owner sure wasn't using it any longer. After a pause, he stepped after the alien.
Zim made his way down the hall towards the stairs in no hurry, fully aware of the human walking up behind him. He heard the fear and anxiety in the footsteps, the rapid pulse, and stopped short just as the human threw arms around his throat, pulling him back a step.
Metal extensions shot from his PAK and scissored Dib, flipping him to the floor with ease. Zim turned to look at him as he wheezed, scrambling back against the wall. He glared a long moment, then continued on.
"Wait," Dib huffed, getting to his feet again. "How did I get in here? Let me out."
Zim didn't respond, dropping out of sight through the hole in the floor. Dib hurried to the edge and looked down but he was gone. He cursed and turned away, pacing the hallway. He stopped before he reached the last room and looked doubled back. Dib began searching the rooms until he found a bathroom. Having no windows, it was dark and he groped his way around until he found what he was looking for. Pulling down the tiny shower's curtain rod, he swung the end towards the glint of mirror above the sink, shattering it. Bad luck was the furthest thing from his mind. Dib carefully reached into the sink and drew out a hand-sized shard, slicing his finger on the edge. He carried it into the room he awoke in and set it up on the windowsill, leaning to look at his face.
A light-grey putty-like substance covered his right eye and brow and much of his cheek. He touched at the center gingerly, wincing, then slid his fingernails under the bottom edge on his cheek and started pulling. The substance clung to his skin but not painfully, coming away slowly and leaving no residue. He peeled it away in a solid piece, slowing as he reached the tender area just below his eye. When he'd removed the entire piece he looked down at it in his hand, a perfect mold of his eye and cheek. It wasn't sticky, and didn't have an odor. Alien substance, no doubt. He set it on the windowsill and looked at his eye. It was still considerably swollen and the entire area around the eye blackened. He could open it just slightly, but there was next to no vision in it. He wrinkled his nose at the sight and immediately regretted it as a world of pain crashed through his face. Had he been in pain earlier? He didn't think so, but maybe he just hadn't been paying attention?
Dib turned and looked at his back in the mirror, studying the same material smoothed over the gunshot wound, the center dimpled in slightly. He twisted his arm and grasped the edge of it, hesitating before pulling it up and away to the best of his abilities. Blood immediately began to run from beneath the grey substance and he patted the edge back down, frowning. He sat down next to the window and picked up the piece from his face, turning it over in his hands thoughtfully. It warmed in his hands and became more pliable the more he handled it. Curious, he tore off a piece and wrapped it around the cut on his finger. The throbbing sting eased away quickly and he looked at his finger in wonder. Incredible.
A sound drew his attention and he got up quickly, grabbing the shard of mirror and sliding it into the pocket of his sweatshirt. He glanced at his tenchcoat laying on the floor nearby. Maybe he should have put that on as well, though it offered minimum protection. It's been his companion all these long years, he almost feels naked without it.
The alien steps into the room slowly, regarding him silently a moment before setting something down on the floor and leaving again. Dib steps towards it slowly, curious. He picks up the heavy object wrapped in white crinkled paper. Blood drips from one corner and he unwraps it slowly, unveiling a hunk of meat. He nearly drops it, sickened, until he realizes it's only a raw cut of steak. The human tilts his head, frowning, and looks up to see the alien watching him from down the hall. He starts to say something but the Irken turns away and drops out of sight once again.
Dib carries the meat back to his room and sits down with it. He is starving, how long has he been here? At least 24 hours, possibly longer. Is he this hungry yet though? The meat looks fairly fresh, and definitely from some kind of butcher shop. Standing, he peers out the window and down at the street. The only butcher shop he knows of in the city is five miles from his apartment, fifteen from the agency labs. He doesn't recognize the street below but he doesn't come to the area of town where the shop is located often so that would explain the foreignness. If he can escape this place, he could likely find his way to his sister's house. That would be safe, for a time. He doesn't think the agency is aware of her existence, as he never listed family members other than his father when he signed on.
He looks back down at the meat and wraps it back up, setting it on the windowsill. No, he isn't that desperate yet. He will be out of here by nightfall.