The three suns beat down onto the surface of Hoz-20, scorching the dirt and evaporating any lingering moisture. Flora and fauna alike skulk about the barren wasteland in search of anything living, hoping to sustain themselves long enough to make it through the planet's next rotation.

A small rodent-bug steps forward into loose gravel. Instantly,the ground underneath shifts and groans, exposing the rapacious jaws of a carnivorous plant. Once the critter notices its predicament, it's too late. The plant has already closed itself around its meal, and has begun to rebury its leaves in the ground as to finish digesting in peace.

An onlooker jumps in surprise at the scene.

"Um, Zim?" Skoodge asks, "What are we doing, again?" While tapping incessantly at the shoulder of his comrade. His hand is swat at like a buzzing fly.

"Skoodge, Skoodge, Skoodge," Zim shakes his head with each syllable. His hand rises to his chest, the soldier-in-training already preparing to give a long-winded, probably condescending, speech to the tick that is Skoodge. "You are lucky to have someone as brilliant and patient and benevolent as Zim. If I were a lesser irken, I may have abandoned you by now." He continues to walk, only slowing to scout the area.

"We are on a valiant expedition in search of a beast worthy of my time. Of my commander's time!"

He stops in his tracks suddenly to rub his hands together, relishing his thoughts. "Imagine, Skoodge, the looks on their faces when I bring back not the measly skitterworm they requested – but instead, I return, a mighty beezzulbeast in tow!"

He giggles with wild abandon, not quite old enough yet to pull off a real evil cackle.

"It will be glorious, I say." He brings his fist up to shake it. "Glorioouuus."

As if suddenly remembering that Skoodge was there and he wasn't talking to himself, his hand lowers, and commits to a more half-hearted wave. "And, you will receive participation points for coming, or something. I guess."

"Maybe…" Skoodge witnesses another creature fall victim to nature, this time being brutally torn apart by a bigger, fiercer beast. "But, uh – I don't think the commander will be very happy to find out that you disobeyed her direct orders and left the hunting grounds."

Zim clicks his segmented tongue. "Foolish Skoodge. You do realize that, by following me – the mighty Ziiimmm –" He turns to face Skoodge. "– you have also disobeyed our commander?"

Skoodge shudders to think of what will happen to him when she finds out. "Yeah…"

Zim spares a moment to perceive the other's frightful state. He shakes his head, antennae swinging pointedly with each turn. "Do not worry your poor, sad, pathetic little head, Skoodge." He steps forward to meet the other irken, raising his hand to pat at his flat head in what Skoodge presumes to be comfort. His antennae twitch and move out of the way, allowing room for Zim's hand to connect. "Once she sees us with the creature subdued, she'll have no choice but to immediately forgive us!"

"You really think so?"

"Oh, I know so." He pushes forward with a skip in his step, beckoning the other. "Now, come along! We can't afford to waste any time."

Skoodge nods and stays close. Whatever happens next is bound to be interesting, whether dangerous and debilitating or otherwise.

It's always interesting, with Zim.

They've been on this planet for roughly three universal weeks. There is no moon, and with three suns, there is no dark. Every moment of every trainee is spent in agony, working on assignments, or forcibly shut down in a medical chamber because they were horribly mutilated after failing a given task.

Skoodge is glad to still be walking. Following Zim has, ironically, proven to be the safest course of action to take during training, for the short soldier. He's almost certain that if he weren't causing chaos with Zim, Zim's chaos would fall on him.

Sure, it can be downright terrifying at times, and Zim's schemes are notorious for destroying and maiming every single thing in sight, including the other trainees, but… theoretically speaking, if Skoodge can get rid of some of the competition, and have fun in the process, without lifting a single claw, then there's no reason he shouldn't.

A little apprehension isn't going to stop him from tailing Zim.

Boots crunch on dry, hard ground.

"Ugh, I hate this thing," Zim hooks a finger under the ventilation mask on his face, pulling it down and allowing it to fall around his neck, tubes hanging loosely from the front.

Skoodge says nothing of this misdemeanor, already used to Zim's blatant disregard for Irken uniform policies. The toxic air here doesn't seem to bother him near as much as it does the other soldiers. Maybe it takes longer for it to kick in?

Skoodge shrugs, bug eyes looking away from the exposed face of the other to instead stare heavily at the barren landscape. Piercing and examining every little detail in the distance can actually be very fun and engaging, if you make it.

They continue to walk in silence for a while – until suddenly, Zim's arm thrusts out to stop Skoodge in his tracks. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, Zim silently brings a finger to it and shushes him. He raises his hand to one of his antennae, perked up and alert. Skoodge follows his example and does the same.

There's a low hum of breath, somewhere nearby. Like a heavy, labored kind of breathing.

Zim crouches low to the ground and rolls behind a rock, concealing himself from outside threats while sitting in the perfect observing spot.

Skoodge walks and takes a seat on the ground next to him, not an irken too fond for dramatics.

There it is again. The breathing. Skoodge peers over the rock that conceals him, while Zim pulls a device out from his PAK and begins fiddling around with it.

It isn't any standard issued tool, distributed by the commander for use in training. Clearly, this is some mechanization that Zim himself has created for personal use.

Sometimes it's easy to forget that he used to be a scientist, until being deemed 'too too destructive' and getting put in military training instead.

"Observe, Skoodge, as I deploy my remotely controlled thingamajig to take care of the creature for me." Light reflects off of its shiny surface as he sets it down onto the ground. "All while we sit here safely behind this rocky… rock!"

The metal device clicks and whirrs to life, transforming into a drill with legs and something ominous affixed to the top. A handheld control somehow found its way into Zim's hand while Skoodge was distracted.

It jumps and runs at Zim's command, skittering off in the direction of the beast in the distant cracky sandscape.

Skoodge's eyes widen.

Letting a robot handle all the work for you, while you sit at a safe distance? "That's so…" Most irken soldiers wouldn't think twice about running into the battlefield and braving certain death, but with technology like this, they wouldn't have to. "… efficient!"

"Yes, yes, I am amazing. Praise meeee…!"

"Wow, Zim! Were you making things like this when you were a scientist, too?"

"Eh? No, no." He leans back, overwhelmed by the positivity that Skoodge radiates. "They only wanted me to make what they wanted, peh. Fools!" His head shakes solemnly.

"The last thing I made by myself there was… hrmm…" He rubs his hand at his chin thoughtfully. "Something… very… good. Because they moved me here!"

The only thing Skoodge can think of that would be worthy of moving positions, is a recent incident, involving some blob monster created by vortian scientists – but, that definitely wasn't Zim. "I'll bet whatever it was, was the best."

Zim preens at the attention, completely forgetting about the robot in his control.

The drill mucks about the beezzulbeast in search of an opening in its cranial cavity – and miscalculates, drilling just too far to the left from the center of its head, and causing the creature to howl and claw it out in pain. The controller in Zim's hand beeps a foreboding red and begins to shake.

Skoodge cringes. That's never a good sign.

"Mmm, did I mention that this was extremely unstable, experimental equipment, prone to exploding?"

"No. No, I don't think you mentioned that."

"Well. It is." He drops the controller into Skoodge's arms. "Here you go!"

"Eep!" he squeaks, bouncing it from hand to hand like a hot potato until finally dropping it to the ground and chasing after Zim, just before it got its chance to explode. He hears the dusty ground kick up behind him, and the tell-tale signs of a very large and very angry creature chasing after the noise.

Skoodge's heel dips into a dusty crack in the ground, his feet stuttering and skipping as he tries to correct himself. PAK legs spring out so as to find his footing again before he can get too far behind.

Zim is already bounds ahead. The shorter irken's PAK legs scrape against petrified roots and jagged formations, leaving Skoodge to gawk at the gouges and marks left in his wake. His erratic movement seems counterproductive, at first glance, but if observed at length, you start to notice tiny things. A sharp jumbling step into a rock is actually a small advantage, if you use it right. If you figure out how to use that rock to propel yourself forward, you may end up farther ahead than you ever could by just running.

Skoodge tends to run in a straight, precise manner, never taking risks that could put him behind. That hesitance is what makes him slower, but maybe, if he looks around for long enough, he could manage to find some way to catch up.

In front of him, his eyes land on a recognizable, and particularly deep, canyon. Of course his eyes would be drawn to it – he and Zim passed it on the way over.

If he could jump into the canyon, he may be able to utilize his PAK limbs and propel himself forward, just like Zim had done all throughout the beginning of the chase, using the momentum from the jump to gain speed and then use his metal limbs to soften the landing.

Skoodge mentally calculates everything he needs to do to be able to make this jump work – the speed and distance traveled, the amount of space that needs to be between him and the cliff edge for him to start jumping, what angle his PAK limbs should be at to properly propel him and not just leave him hanging. He nods to himself, building up enough false bravado to make him believe this is actually going to work.

The edge nears, creeping closer and closer with each hurried step forward. He counts his steps, measures the distance between them, and estimates how many left until he reaches it. He needs three between him and the edge before he can jump. Any more, or any less, and he'll fail.

Better now than never.

He pulls his legs under him, and leaps up. The limbs of his PAK spread out, metal rubbing against metal, their combined screeching grating on his antennae. He manages to pull through the noise and position his limbs to swing.

Midway through his in-air adjustments, the beezzulbeast roars. A deafening sound that halts all movement in the immediate area, weaker creatures stopping to rub at their auditory receptors or fall over in pain. His own receptors twitch in agony from the top of his head, and his inner eardrums from at the sides pound against his mushy flesh-brain, causing his eyes and motor functions to become uncoordinated and useless.

Skoodge's arms jump out in front of him to gain purchase on the rocks across, fuelled by his desperation and frustration towards his body's betrayal moments too late.

Hands fail to connect, and he starts to go down.

Just as his body begins to recognize the weightlessness of falling, the creature's screech is silenced. Skoodge regains control of his motor functions, metal limbs probing and clawing and stabbing into the cliff by him. He's not sure what side he's on anymore, he just hopes that when he crawls back up it's not up there waiting for him.

His hand rises above the edge, claws dug deep into the ground as he desperately tries to climb over. When he gets there, his PAK limbs retract and he pants through his open mouth, pheromones oozing with exertion, exposing his discomposed state to any other possible irkens in the area.

The only other irken around, however, seems to be a preoccupied Zim: missing the filtration tubes that are supposed to be attached to his mask, and stuck between looking at Skoodge and at whatever's behind him.

When he turns, he understands why. The beast on the other side seems to be struggling with itself, metal wires stretching and squirming under its skin, yellow clouds of gas forming in the air around its wounds. That must be why it stopped screaming.

It stares at them with its singular cycloptic eye, and Skoodge swears it's filled with more rage than a hundred irken soldiers could ever conjure.

The beezzulbeast breaks the very unnecessary eye contact to peer down at the gap between them. Its legs don't take well to large leaps. It's a slow, large, ungraceful creature. Even so, it rears back, preparing itself, far too enraged to be set back by this impossible challenge.

It jumps, and, predictably, falls. Skoodge releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Thanks, Zim, I don't know what I would've done if –"

Scratching sounds from behind. Skoodge's spiel is cut short as the two irkens turn, mouths agape in open horror.

A sharp claw-hoof emerges from the dip of the cliff, not unlike Skoodge's own hand moments prior.

Skoodge presses a hand to his forehead. Of course, the most infamously dangerous creature on the entire planet , can climb.

As Skoodge stands there and mentally berates himself for his enthusiasm, Zim takes his hand and books it, dragging the stout irken behind him like a commuter carrying heavy luggage.

"You know," says Zim, casually, between strides, "I'm surprised you haven't died yet!"

He jumps over a particularly unstable-looking formation of rocks. It, predictably, collapses upon contact. The rocks are long behind them before they even touch the ground. "Considering, how bad you are, at running," he pants, though his pheromones give no indication of exertion. Only of thrill and excitement, causing his antennae to twitch and limbs to jerk.

It's infectious. Skoodge almost feels it himself – a buzzing sensation under his leathery skin – as he looks and breathes in Zim at this very moment.

Then Zim drops him unceremoniously in the middle of the main Irken campsite.

The beezzulbeast jumps over the two and carries on with its onslaught of destruction, ignoring its previous prey for the louder, more enticing ones currently running about the camp.

Trainees and assistant drones run and fall over each other. Some run into the weapon supply to find weapons and items to take the beast down with, and others curl up into a heap on the ground.

Chaos unfolding in front of him, all Zim thinks to do is tap a claw to his chin. "Mmh, this isn't… exactly as I envisioned…"

Skoodge collects himself, tearing his eyes away from the mayhem laid out before him. Zim shrugs away any insecurities, monologuing to himself about how "Once I figure out how to kill it, they'll congratulate me all the same". Skoodge, on the other hand, already has most of it figured out.

He just has one question.

"Zim," he catches his attention, stopping him mid-rant. "How'd you get it to stop screaming earlier?"

His face brightens at the question, easy and simple enough that he can focus all his attention on that instead of talking to himself. "I reprogrammed my filtration tubes to plant themselves into the weak points in its skin."

Well, that explains where those went.

"And," adds Zim, suddenly very unsteady, "I'm starting to feel the effects."

He faceplants into the ground.

Alright.

Skoodge looks away to gaze at the metal under the beast's skin, no longer active and writhing. There must be a set amount of time that the tubes can continue to operate without energy from the host's PAK.

Guess it's up to me, then.

If Skoodge can return that energy, the surge might be strong enough to will the metal deeper in and puncture the creature's organs. And he already has the perfect battery.

The beezzulbeast gets knocked into one of the many snack storages by a stray missile. It barely even leaves a mark.

Trainees blur past Skoodge as he makes his way to the creature, each and every one of his steps taken with purpose. He holds himself like a Taller, leading his troops into battle.

Except, he's not leading anyone but himself.

This does nothing to quell the quiet excitement that's settled deep within his spooch.

It's distracted, batting Irken trainees away as if they're little bugs. They may as well be, with its stature. Skoodge watches it carefully, circling around to its more vulnerable side, where the metal of Zim's repurposed filtration tubes sticks out more distinctly.

Noting its movement, predicting its next steps. He keeps himself at a safe distance, and slowly detaches one of the filtration tubes from his mask out of his PAK.

Not yet,

He hears the crunch of bones under one of its six clawed feet.

Not yet,

He continues to walk, blocking out the squelch that comes after its foot rises.

Not yet,

He hears someone screaming to get the commander.

Now.

Skoodge's PAK limbs shoot out towards the beast, wrapping around its thick torso and firmly lodging the irken into its side. Before it has a chance to react, he digs for an end of one of the tubes and pulls.

Kicking, writhing, bucking. Desperately wanting to get him off, before he can finish what he started.

He clasps his hands around where the discarded tube and his mask meet, causing the pliant metal to spasm out of control and wedge deeper into its skin, just as he predicted. Any wounds that started to heal tear back open, filling the already tarnished tube with the beast's muddy yellow blood.

When Skoodge breathes in, he tastes rot.

It continues to kick and writhe, but its movements are noticeably lacking in force.

Eventually the beast slows, and then stops. There is no fanfare. Only a quiet, empty silence that falls over the camp.

Skoodge tears the metal out of the corpse, and works on preening guts and blood out as much as he can before reattaching the tubes to Zim.

"Skoodge! Zim!" An executive officer shouts. "Report to your commander's office. Now!"

Already? That's a shame. Skoodge is pretty sure Zim just started breathing again. He pokes him out of his forced torpor.

"Hey, Zim. I think the commander wants us dead."

" Again?" he asks, voice muffled by the dirt. Somehow more cognizant while half-dead than otherwise.

Skoodge nods grimly. It's unfortunate that Zim can't see it, what with his face still being planted in the ground.

Their commander seethes from the other side of her desk.

Zim, wisely, has not said a word since he and Skoodge walked through her door. Which, for him, is a challenge in its own right.

He's also got this big dirt-imprint left on his face.

Skoodge, also wisely, has said nothing about it.

"Zim." The commander says, pauses, then adds, "Skoodge." It's mostly an afterthought.

Skoodge bites at the inside of his cheek.

Her hands fold in front of her, and she straightens in her seat. Her glower is replaced with a stern, professional look of neutrality.

"You have been training here for two weeks." Something clicks in the background. Irkens can be heard milling about outside, trying to undo the carnage.

"From this week alone –" Oh boy. "– we have had ten rogue experiments let loose, six extremely dangerous animals lured in, eight-teen trainee deaths, and five hundred weeks worth of snacks completely obliterated."

She closes her eyes, and breathes. Maintains a cool disposition.

And then, she opens them.

"The one thing that all of these cases have in common," her orange eyes almost glow in the hot fury they cast over the two, "is that they can be directly traced back to you."

Zim, bless his stupid soul, has the gall to interrupt. "With all due respect, commander Faant, aren't we supposed to be weeding out the weak?"

"No!"

Her folded hands spring forth, animated wildly in front of her as she begins to rant. "I'm supposed to weed out who I deem unfit to serve the empire. You're supposed to stay in line. We expected to lose a few cadets to training." Her eyes twitch and her antennae vibrate threateningly against her skull. Any previous attempts at keeping a calm exposure are thrown out the window.

Thrown out, just like her hands, currently waving to the open window to her side. "Not to lose over a third of them in TWO WEEKS because the little miscreant who failed in the Vort research station decided he wanted to DO MY JOB FOR ME."

Silence falls over the group.

Outside, someone yells about moving the corpses.

"Zim."

His antennae go ramrod straight at the sound of his name. "Yes, my commander?"

"You will have your rations lowered for the rest of your time on this planet. You will be put through rigorous reconditioning." She readjusts in her seat, hands folded back where they were, before she let her emotions get the better of her. "And you will not leave my sight," she clicks, the perfect picture of a composed leader. "Understood?"

One of his antennae flick. "Yes, commander Faant."

"You are dismissed."

Zim hesitates – maybe to try and convince her of his prowess once more, or ask for some other punishment – but ultimately, he turns his back and leaves through the entrance of the temporary office-base.

Skoodge barely manages to shift even a leg to join Zim before his commander objects.

"Skoodge. I said Zim was dismissed." A darkness settles over her face. "Not. You."

Faant's voice, loud and authoritative, leaves no room for opposition.

"Y-yes, Commander Faant," he stays in place.

Her hands unfold.

They simmer in stiff silence.

"Trainee Skoodge," begins Faant. "Do you understand why you're still here?"

He breathes in, keeping his voice even. "No, Commander Faant."

She rises from the seat behind her desk, and takes a few paces around before standing at the front of it. Her taller figure looms over Skoodge, reminding him of the best trait most Irken soldiers have – a trait of which he, notably, lacks. He keeps himself still in preparation for whatever she has to say next.

He really doesn't expect to hear what actually comes out of her mouth.

"I see potential in you, Skoodge."

What?

"What?" He blinks owlishly.

"Do I have to repeat myself, cadet?" The muscles over her eyes twitch, a brow quirks up.

Eager to hear her continue, more out of curiosity than any possible ego-fulfillment, he shakes his head.

"You have potential that most other bugs in this camp don't. I can see the majority of them being cannon fodder, at best. But you?"

Her mouth twists up in some sick kind of mirth.

"You are capable of things that they are not. You are quick on the field, able to come up with strategies in the matter of seconds, techniques and tactics entirely unique to you – without the help of any equipment!" A strange look overcomes what was previously joy. "You proved that today."

She takes a step forward, and Skoodge decides he does not like that look one bit.

"You could actually do something, if you wanted." Somehow, that look on her face that he can't begin to describe, only manages to get more intense. "Anything! You could be an Invader, a commander – even, if you were a little taller, you could probably have a spot right next to the Almighty Tallest itself." The praise is real, but the way in which she uses it feels so wrong.

"You could live whatever life you want to lead, if you would just stop following that – that –" She waves her hand around, failing to come up with a word that could accurately represent all the disdain she holds for this singular, unnamed irken.

"Zim?"

"Yes. Zim." She practically hisses the name.

That's… not right. If Skoodge wasn't with Zim, things may have turned out worse for the camp. If he wasn't with Zim, he would never have been able to figure out how to take the animal in the camp down.

Sure, they made a mess of the place, but… they were still able to fix it. Kinda.

And that's good.

Right?

"Do you…" he hazards to ask, "… not think, he has the potential… to be a good soldier?"

She shakes her head and scoffs "Of course not" like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It might be, to anyone that's not Skoodge.

"Zim is destructive, chaotic, and extremely recalcitrant. He refuses to stay in line. He's moved from station to commander to commander, over and over and over – it's like no one wants anything to do with him!" Which is probably true. "No one's even heard from Poki since he got removed from her squad." This is extremely worrying, considering Poki was one of their best commanders. It wouldn't be surprising if Zim was somehow responsible for their disappearance, too. "He'd be lucky to be a potential last resort."

She dispels her thoughts with another shake. Her antennae straighten, and she puts her hand on Skoodge's shoulder. He wills himself not to tense.

"You shouldn't allow yourself to be controlled by a lesser irken." Narrow eyes scrutinize his entire being. What was that look before? Was it pity, that she was looking at him with, so intensely?

If it wasn't before, it is now.

"Skoodge." Her grip tightens. "The next time that Smaller forces you on an excursion, it would be well within your line for you to, say…" Gloves prevent her claws from nicking into the skin of his shoulder. " … teach him a lesson…" She smiles, cold and callous. "I certainly wouldn't be around to stop you." Skoodge decides that he very much so hates that specific kind of smile, forever, now.

"But Zim was the one who –"

Her hand jerks away and she rises to her full height.

"Zim was the one whose face was so firmly lodged into the ground that we needed a crowbar and pliers to get him out." Faintly, her head tilts down to better look at him. "Stop trying to glorify his stupidity."

'If you were a little taller…'

His fists flex. A near-imperceptible motion.

"So, Zim gets punished, and I get away scot free?"

He's not even sure when his hands first balled up. When she first stated Zim's punishments? Or when she revealed that the reason she kept Skoodge longer was because she wanted him to use his taller stature to punish Zim even more?

Faant leans closer. Her hand flings up suddenly, poised to strike.

Skoodge flinches.

Disappointment graces her features. "Oh, don't worry. I have something for you in mind."

It doesn't take long for her to expose the punishment she deemed most fitting for Skoodge.

In fact, he'd almost think she was waiting for him to say something, with how fast she responds.

"Detention."

Skoodge's antennae droop.

"It's clear that you are too dependent on your peers. Irkens aren't supposed to follow others around like lost little phribblings." She continues with the smallest pause between her words. "It's my belief that separating you from the rest of the trainees will be in both of our interests."

He swallows the lump in his throat.

"We have plenty of chambers created for the purpose of isolation. Irkens were, after all, a social species." All of this said too casually. "But we evolved past that. I'm sure after a few months, spent entirely alone…" She smirks, a dark glint in her eye. "You will, too."

He almost wishes he'd never said anything to begin with.

There are no windows, and the door blends seamlessly with the wall, providing no possible chance of escaping.

There are a few cracks in the ground, spiderwebbing from a corner to his right, but it's not like he has any tools with which to poke at it with. They disabled most functions on his PAK, leaving only the bare minimum required for him to stay alive.

There's no good way to keep track of how long he's been here. He tried tapping the seconds out. Light, even clicks of a claw to the hard floor. But eventually, he lost count. The bright lights makes it hard to focus, the stuffy hot air making his skin feel too tight.

At least he still gets food.

After a while of sitting and staring at the same wall, Skoodge decided that the isolation wasn't the bad part of Detention.

The bad part is what the isolation does.

Didn't someone say that the worst punishments are self-imposed? He's pretty sure he heard that somewhere before.

No one around to talk to means that Skoodge has been left alone with his thoughts for… a few days? A week? A month?

Too long.

They sit alongside him, festering, until they barely resemble whatever they started as.

'Am I gonna get any taller?' turns into 'This wouldn't be happening if I was.'

'Should I stop following Zim?' turns into 'I don't know what else I'd do.'

'Why am I here?' turns into 'I'm supposed to be.'

Those are among his tamer ones. His least favorite are the intrusive thoughts, the ones that tell him to crack his head against the walls and see how long it takes for someone to notice.

He's in the middle of one of his spirals, debating on whether or not punching the floor would break his fists, when it happens.

Tip, tip, tap, tak.

A small noise. Barely audible. Likely unable to be heard to creatures lacking an irken's sensitive antennae.

It gets louder.

Ptch, tch, click, crunch.

He looks to his right.

The cracks in the corner are growing, and something is pushing up from the center. The floor shifts and creaks with each shove, until they start to rise, and something crawls up. A hand emerges and Skoodge thinks this is how I die until his eyes focus and he realizes what that hand is attached to.

"Hi Skoodge!" Zim greets from the new hole, either not noticing Skoodge's pinned antennae or not caring.

"Zim?" He whispers, mostly to himself, because of course it's Zim, who else would it be? Who else would be crazy enough to dig – what appears to be a tunnel – from the outside all the way into Skoodge's isolation chamber?

"You should've told me you were in here sooner," one leg kicks away excess debris as he crawls up. "I would've gotten you out. I had to resort to using the tracking chip I implanted into your skin to find you!"

"You planted a tracking ch–?"

"But enough about Zi-ih-immm," he draws out, shaking a fist. He reaches the same hand he used seconds ago to pull himself out of the ground to reach behind his back and pull out a stack of messy, disorganized papers. "… and more about my next igenius plan!"

He flops on the floor, spreading the papers out between him and Skoodge. Some face him, some Skoodge, some to an invisible audience.

"I realize now that I was too hasty in my plans before. The fiery commander brings good points!" He nods approvingly to himself. "So, I have decided to not use any more wild animals. They are far too unpredictable and useless. I will be focusing my efforts solely on my creations!"

"Aren't those also unpredictable and useless?" Skoodge deadpans.

Zim gasps, hand to his chest. "Skoodge! What is this… sa-ass, you are spouting?"

That's a good question. Where's his enthusiasm? Why isn't he jumping for joy at this very moment?

Who knows. Maybe sitting alone in a room for a few days makes you bitter.

"I don't wanna help you destroy camp again, Zim." He folds his arms and sulks. "Just leave me alone."

Zim sputters. "Leave you? After I came all this way to share my plans?" He slaps a hand down onto the layer of white and blue he's made on the floor, crunching and folding his oh-so precious papers in the process. "These walls have made you delirious."

He gets up from his knees and waves a hand, beckoning Skoodge as he makes his way to the entrance he forcibly made. "Come, follow Zim. A breath of toxic air will clear your mind." He crawls back down and looks on in anticipation.

Skoodge grumbles, frustrated with his antics. He ignores Zim in favor of staring into the wall ahead.

Zim falters in his hole.

That's… strange. Usually, Skoodge would be tripping over himself to join him in his great deeds.

Zim says something about their peers, and of promises of reward and glory. Skoodge continues to ignore him.

He tries talking about the endless snacks they will surely receive after creating an impressive science-breaking death-ray,

Nothing.

No amount of talking is getting through.

Zim crosses his arms on top of the floor, and flops his chin into them. Why isn't he listening? Vocal cords click angrily behind his closed mouth. He always does. Is there something in this room causing him to behave like this?

There must be. There's no other possible explanation. But what could it be?

A brain slug?

Thought-manipulating fumes coming from the vents?

Invisible foam coating his antennae and inner ears, blocking out all sounds and vibrations?

Even when Zim crawls out of the hole in search of some reprehensible thing he can blame for Skoodge's condition, he falls short. There is absolutely nothing here.

The only other thing in this room, is him.

He itches at the back of his hands, gloves providing a barrier between his claws and his flesh.

Allowing himself to zone out, only paying mind to the feeling of his claws on his hands and the thoughts in his head, he ponders…

Only him…

His PAK feels heavy, and he recalls something. He can't believe he almost forgot that he brought this with him.

Zim pulls a plain doughnut out from his PAK and waves it around in front of Skoodge.

From his spot on the ground, Skoodge blinks up wearily. He doesn't have it in him to find this act condescending. The only thing he can feel about it is confusion.

"What…?"

"Mmh." Zim's brow twitches. "Take it. It is yours."

Skoodge reaches out, hesitantly grasping at its edges. He holds the doughnut in front of him, too struck by the current events to take a bite. All he can manage is some indistinct, noncommittal muttering.

He knows that there's a specific set of words for this situation. What do you say when someone gives you something, expecting nothing in return?

"Since I have no idea what they're stuffing you with in here, I had to take your diet into my own hands!" His eyes shift to look away. "You are a more valuable asset to me fat than you are starved and attenuated."

Skoodge wouldn't go as far as to say he's starved yet, but he's not about to resist the offer of a free doughnut. He takes a bite, and, finds the phrase he was looking for. "Thank you."

Zim seems just as shocked at these words as Skoodge was at the gesture.

It takes a while of bewildered blinking for him to pull himself back together.

"Eh… yes…" He coughs into a closed fist. "Thank Zim…!"

He holds his hands on his hips, feigning a look of confidence. Even clearing his throat fails to bring the poise in his voice back.

Awkward silence falls. Skoodge shoves the rest of the doughnut into his mouth, hoping to dispel it a little.

Zim beats him to the punch.

"Soooo…"

Predictable.

"No, Zim." Skoodge groans. "I have to stay."

"I fail to see why." Flippant as always. "The commander told you to, so what? Her words are not that absolute." They shouldn't be, especially when they're so obviously bad. How does this punishment benefit her squad? "It is not as though the tallest herself has pulled you from your training and stuck you here!"

"There is no tallest." The empire is still searching for Miyuki, or someone tall enough to replace her.

"Semantics."

"Whatever. I'm not going."

He scoots himself around, facing away from Zim.

"Fine, Skoodge, you have pulled my hand."

His head tilts, curious, but he keeps his back turned.

He hears a slight shuffle from behind, and it goes quiet… until there's a gloved hand on top of his head, patting at his antennae with an abnormal tenderness, and that's the only thing he can hear.

"You may mush all your feely-thingies on Zim," he says, benignly, as though he had just bestowed to Skoodge the greatest honor of all.

"My emotions?"

"Those too."

Skoodge almost wants to protest against that, appalled by the prospect of revealing his innermost thoughts and emotions… but, then he looks at who's asking, whose hand remains on his head. A presence, comforting, soothing, and somehow completely and entirely distressing all at the same time.

He never had a chance to move his antennae out of the way of Zim's hand. It's odd, now, how he doesn't feel the desire to pull away.

Talk?

It's worth a shot.

He peers into the fog in his mind.

There isn't much there, he thinks. He might also just really be bad at introspection.

Everyone else wishes they were taller. It's a normal, painfully average desire. Doesn't that mean he should want to, too?

Before the batch of smeets he belonged to got split, he recalls seeing Red and Purple. Those two used to be the same height as Skoodge and Zim, but when everyone got sent off on their separate assigned paths, they were nearly double their height.

Maybe Skoodge'll spring up like them in a year? Towering over his peers, mocking them in their plight?

He hopes so. He says as much to Zim.

"You care too much about trivial things."

Leave it to Zim to make you instantly regret confiding in him.

"And you don't care about anything," he fumes, jerking his head away from its place under Zim's hand.

"Because there is nothing good to be caring about!" His flops on his back, exasperated. It makes a rough sound when it connects to the floor. That can't have felt good on his PAK. "So you're short. Who cares? I am too!"

"It's easy for you," he bites back, suddenly annoyed with the flow of the conversation.

"Because I make it easy." He sits up and stares, and those magenta eyes make Skoodge feel something he's never felt before. He thinks it might be fear. But, he's been scared before – and being scared has never felt like this.

It's never made his linked blood-circulating organ palpitate like this.

"I stand straight not to be tall, but to reach what I want and take it!" He grasps his hand around empty air, close to Skoodge's face. "I make a name for myself so the last thing people will think when they see me is 'oh, he's short!'" His smile, wide and bright and completely different from the smile their commander gave Skoodge when detailing his sentence, makes his veins thrumm. "And I do everything in my power to make these things happen!"

Skoodge is completely entranced. He's not even that mad, anymore. This must be Zim's talent, no matter how much Zim wants to think it's creating things and being the best irken.

No, his real talent is rearing heads, and saying things that make people listen.

Something is wrapping around Skoodge's hands, and when he realizes that they're Zim's own, he's already being pulled up by them. "Stand firm, Skoodge! Embrace the short! Embrace the ugly!"

"I'm ugly?" he laughs, too bewildered and too focused on Zim's shining eyes to be offended.

"Accept all unwanted parts of you now, because no one else will!" He continues, fully pulling Skoodge to his feet. He doesn't resist.

"Do it for you!" Zim's smile is like a million watts of energy, beaming straight at Skoodge.

There's never been another moment, he thinks, where he's ever been as thankful to be short as he is now. "Because you are Skoodge!" Because being short means he gets to see that smile head on. "Because Skoodge is…"

Zim falters, antennae pressing back in light embarrassment. He releases Skoodge's hands.

There's a silent battle going on in that head of Zim's.

A battle that he loses.

"… Decent," a whisper, incomparable to the loud speech he just gave. He stiffly pats at the back of his companion.

Skoodge grins. "Decent?"

"Do you want me to say something else?"

"Nah." Saying anything at all was a lot more than he ever expected to get.

It's about time Skoodge said something himself.

"So, you had a plan?" He baits.

Zim's eyes light up, and in an instant he's moving on his feet, crawling back down the hole, and blabbering the whole while about what's-its and doo-dads that no sane person would ever even consider conjuring into reality.

Skoodge's smile only gets bigger.

This is right, he decides. He's going follow Zim, for as long as their lives and paths will allow it. And maybe, he'll get better at running along the way.

That way, no matter what, he'll be able to keep up.