A/N: Zim is baffled that Dib has killed the security guard and is now...eating him. He doesn't interrupt at first until it becomes clear that this is not hisDib. He tries to remove Dib from the body, but Dib is still in attack/feral mode, and Zim becomes the new target. Zim tries to hold him off with his Pak legs at first, attempting to shout some sense into his not-friend. But when Dib snatches a Pak leg and snaps it, the Pak system takes over…
Chapter Four:
This Doesn't Mean Anything
[Zim]
"You're making a mistake, you stupid worm."
The layered clicks of my Pak fill the air. Two legs snap to my side, bracing my body against the wood below. The other two rise over Dib's hunched frame with pointed blades on either shoulder.
"Zim could dismantle you in seconds."
His eyes bore into mine, redder than the human remnants painted across his mouth and chin, dripping down his neck, soaking his clothes with the foul stench. I match his gaze, teeth grit, claws flexed against the floor. His beast mind appears to size me up for a moment. Weighing the odds. I watch his pupils flit from one side to the other up at the Pak legs that glint in the light of the moon. And in a fraction of a second, he's reaching over his head, snatching both in his hands. Before I can react, he pulls. Hard. My body slides underneath his, up, and over as he hurls me across the hallway with alarming, impossible force. All I can do is yell and flail through the air. My Pak takes over; legs shoot out in every direction for something to hook onto. I stick to the wall when the blades lodge into the old bricks. My body hangs upside down as I catch my breath.
"Zim is done with these games, Dib!" I snap. He stands to his feet, a shadow across the darkened hall. My threats are as empty as his head. "That putrid hag - she's done something to you. She isn't human, Dib-stink. You should be attacking her, not me!"
But again, my words mean nothing. Not that he has ever listened to me, but it's a far more obnoxious trait in this situation. I can sense his movement before I see it - his legs tensing, muscles coiling, springing him into a charge. I curse and launch myself toward the ceiling, Pak legs punching through the drywall, searching for purchase while I hang and sway. I look over my shoulder to see him, to see this absolute noodle of a human suddenly leap toward the wall, push off with both feet, and jump at the ceiling, following me. My eyes widen. His outstretched hands snatch the old, hanging light fixtures. My reaction time falters and he reaches me in mere seconds. Before I know it, we're colliding. Falling. The floor rushes up and my face smashes into it. A snarl erupts from me as a wave of pain rolls through my bones. I flip over, ready to tear him to ribbons.
"You stupid, insolent, worm of a creature-"
Crack!
His fists flash across my vision. My head snaps to the side, stinging from the blow. I feel warm liquid pooling beneath my tongue. He's straddling me, pinning me to the floor, and his body feels heavier than possible. I block another punch with a Pak leg, but that proves to be a mistake. He grabs at the device, and in an instant, he crushes it in his hand.
A shock zips through my body. My back arches at the force, arms stretched to each side, claws tensing.
Warning!
The voice rings between my ears, familiar and yet distant. It's been so long since I've heard it. Red lights flash with the remembrance of Irk, of training in the desert, the dirt beneath my claws, the sweat coating my skin. I feel cold.
Warning! Threat detected.
"Wait, no!" My head snaps up with the memory of what comes next. "Disengage, DISENGAGE-"
Shing!
Before I can stop it, the self-defense mechanisms activate. A blade juts out and impales Dib through the chest in one swift motion, pinning him to the wall with a heavy, sticky thud.
Blood squirts, spattering the Pak leg and the floorboards beneath. Dib's feral expression freezes. Red eyes wide as the sun suddenly turn to pinpricks in a sea of white. His mouth hangs open, dripping crimson, fangs gleaming in the flashing warning lights of my Pak.
My throat tightens.
"Stop!"
Panic sets in, screaming from every direction, inside and out, as the system prepares to defend itself once more. If I don't do something, it will obliterate him.
I grab the nearest leg and pull down as hard as I can. My body feels as if it's burning. I'm shouting, but my voice feels small. "Disengage defense systems!"
It responds. Threat detected. Eliminate to disengage.
"The threat has been subdued!" I pull harder, though I know it will not budge until the system corrects itself. "Zim commands you to disengage!"
But even as I shout the orders, I know it is useless. My body is still responding to the intense swell of panic - the Pak knows this and will not relinquish control to me until I have calmed myself...which is rather difficult at the moment. I stare up at him, at his limp body, bleeding like a stuck pig. His blood is a deep, dark red - almost reminiscent of the venom I extracted from the bite to his leg. He doesn't make a sound beyond the labored hiss of air struggling to reach his lungs. The rest of the house has fallen to silence, to darkness, to nothing.
Shifting my weight to my hands, I sit up slowly and scoot back. My chest swells with a number of emotions, but as always, anger triumphs. I want to beat him to a pulp for bringing us here, for being so stupid, for being himself. I want to kill the old woman downstairs. Flay her like a fish and unwind her organs from her stomach like rope. I hate her. I hate him. I hate this stinking, filthy planet. I hate that I'm here, and I hate the intense torrent of feelings coursing through me as I watch him die.
And the longer I stare, the worse it gets, rising in me like flames consuming my insides. He looks smaller now. Weak, like he was before. Like Dib. Like the foolish, loud-mouthed, simple, big-headed boy who marked himself as my nemesis when I arrived on this dirt ball.
Drip, drip, drip.
My lip curls over pointed teeth. He's losing blood. Humans don't do well when their polluted liquids leave their bodies. I crawl farther back and try again.
"Systems disengage."
I listen to the hushed clicks and whirs as the computer runs calculations to assess my current risk. It finally responds.
Threat still active.
"He's not a threat," I mutter, standing to my feet. "Zim will not give him that credit."
Threat still active.
"This is a mission," I press, growing irritated. "He's an experiment. This is necessary…for the glory of the Empire."
That should do it.
The Pak thinks for a moment. Or whatever a computer does. I know the programming will be heavily skewed toward benefiting the Irken forces, defected as I may be, and a few seconds later, the machine agrees with my assessment and withdraws the blades from Dib's unresponsive form. They slide back into the Pak with the sharp scrape of metal before clicking into place. I take another quick step back before Dib's body crumples to the floor in a heap. The warning lights turn off, plunging us into the darkness only broken by the moon.
My claws tap at my side in the quiet while I weigh my options. I could leave him here. He wouldn't last long, which means I'd be free from his incessant snooping. I could go about my schemes of world domination without any further interruptions, and it'd be perfect; everything would fall into place and I'll finally have what I've wanted all these years, and I'll be-
I'll be…
Hesitation grips me. I don't allow the word to enter my thoughts, but memories seep in its place, and I become lost in them.
Lost in the hundreds - no, thousands - of messages I sent into space; unanswered, unread, floating in the vast, dark sea of stars. Every call that rang and never went through. Every report, so meticulous, so detailed, ignored. And I know why, and I know one day, I will have to truly face the why, but for now, I'm stuck in a vicious cycle of effort and strain; always thinking, always scheming, always planning for an answer that isn't going to come, but I plan anyway, because what else can I do? I've done everything - everything that was expected of me, and more. So much more. And yet, nothing. Nothing...but Dib.
I can't stop the sudden laughter that shakes my chest. I can't breathe beyond it and the damned thoughts in my head. I double over, laughing harder and harder, until it feels it may break me. Irk, this is ridiculous. This is pitiful. When did I become so weak?
My throat tightens to a wheeze. "Oh you stupid, stupid human," I groan, rubbing my forehead in exhaustion. "This has to be the most vile trick you've played yet. Tricking Zim into…"
No. The thought disgusts me and I bite back the urge to gag. This planet has ruined me. The Dib has ruined me.
"Don't think that I'm doing this for your sake." The words seem hollow. Rage unfurls beneath my flesh and my voice leaps to a shout, grating in my chest. "Do you hear me in your big head, Dib-beast?" My shoulders tremble ever so slightly, fists clenched at my side. He remains face-down on the floor as the blood pools around him. My teeth grind together. "You are nothing to Zim! Nothing! I'm the superior being - everyone else on this stinking, filthy planet is worthless, and that includes you!"
Every word drains me. Warmth runs down my face; I wipe it away with the back of my hand. It's just the stress. Probably sweat. It's disgusting in here.
I turn on my heels and stomp toward the dead human in the corner. Dib was ill all day long - extraordinarily weak and floppy and sweaty. But somehow, he defeated this older male. And somehow, eating the remnants changed him. He was rummaging through the chest when I found him, so focused on his task that he acted as if I wasn't there...which means he was looking for something.
I stand over the body, glaring down at the gorey site and the bits of flesh and tissue splattered across the floor. It's difficult to admit that Dib could even do this - could crack open a sternum like it was merely a twig. I squat down, fighting the urge to vomit at the horrid, putrid smell. I squint my eyes shut as tight as I can manage without completely compromising my sight, and reach into the opened cavity. The fleshy warmth can be felt through my gloves. It squelches between my fingers; viscous, raw. After separating bands of muscles and tissue, my claws wrap around the hot lump, and I wrench it free from the cage.
My intrigue overcomes my disgust, if only for a moment. It's strange to imagine that this clump of muscle is what drives every human on this planet; that it's responsible for pumping their vile fluids through every vessel and squishy organ. Something so important, and all human evolution could manage to do was encase it in a few flimsy bones. I flex my fingers ever so slightly, drawing fresh blood from the ventricles.
"You owe me for this, Dib-stink," I mutter. Vital organ in hand, I march back over to his prone form. I don't know what's happening to Dib, and I hate that more than anything, but he was his regular, weak and pathetic self until he stuffed his face full of human meat, so this should do something.
I settle on my haunches and grab Dib's shoulder with my other hand to flip him onto his back. A small groan passes his lips, but his eyes are closed. His skin is so pale, and the wound in his chest goes all the way through - it's honestly astounding that he isn't dead yet.
I avert my gaze from the bloody pulp of his chest and tap his sticky cheek.
"Hey, quit being dramatic and eat this disgusting heart meat."
There's no response, but I expected as much. I roll my eyes. "Oh, so you're going to make me do everything now?" My fingers press against his jaw, prying his mouth open. A strange sound squeezes past his throat. I stare at his face and then back to my hand around his chin. I loosen my grip; his shoulders relax a little.
"Sorry." The word comes out so quietly that I barely hear myself say it before I push the lump of flesh between his teeth. He groans again, louder now as his body tenses up, almost as if he's trying to move away from me. Fresh blood oozes from the organ and drips down his neck. Suddenly, his eyes snap open. His newly formed fangs clamp down on the meat with such force, blood sprays from its vessels and the straps of muscles in his neck flex like plucked cords. I pull my hand away and lean back to avoid becoming collateral damage. He tears through the rubbery texture, gnashing, slurping, and gulping it down in chunks. My throat goes dry.
"That's...gross."
He ignores me, lost in the feast. My eyes are drawn back to the hole in his chest when I realize...it's closing up. I have to resist the urge to get a closer look in case meat-boy decides to take a bite out of my face, but I can see it. Ribs snapping back into place with a loud click. Muscles growing, stretching, knitting; clumps of skin cells bubble up from the gorey muck and weave across the wound. He's...healing himself.
I look back up to his face, incredulous. I had hoped the food would keep him from dying, buy me some time before I could haul him back to the lab, but there is no way I could have expected him to regenerate a wound so fatal.
What power is this?
He finishes the last of it and begins to desperately lick the remaining blood off his fingers as his chest heaves with air. I listen for any leaks, but I hear none, which means his internal organs have regenerated as well. A capability such as this wouldn't be so surprising out in space, but here? I haven't encountered a single efficient lifeform on this polluted planet in all the years I've been stuck. For the first one to be the Dib?
I'm zapped from my trance when he suddenly slumps over himself. I scramble to his side, fearing for a moment that maybe it didn't work as well as I thought, but as I check his pulse and watch his chest rise and fall softly, I scoff.
"You're asleep? Seriously?" I toss his hand to the side and pinch my brow between my fingers. I'm going to have to drag him back to my base after all. With a deep sigh, I stand to my feet and glance back at the dead man. "I can't believe I'm doing this for a pathetic worm-baby like you."
But nonetheless, I do. I fish out every vascular organ left in the carcass and carry the bloody meat bags out to the Voot, storing them behind the passenger seat. My gloves are sticky with blood, old and new, and I reek of human. How many baths is it going to take to smell normal again?
I trudge across the wet grass, up the steps and back into the gloomy building to fetch the Dib; still asleep, soaked in blood and grime, clothing torn, glasses cracked. What a mess. I take a deep breath and slide my arms underneath his to haul him up from the floor, grunting at the weight. The only sound he makes is a soft snore against my shoulder. It takes a great deal of effort to get him out of the house, down the steps, over the hill and into the ship. His body slumps into the seat, useless and limp, but he remains asleep, dead to the world around him. His facial expression has finally relaxed and he looks...normal again. I watch him for a moment in the quiet before my gaze lifts to the house. I'll have to go back, once he's stable, and find that woman creature. But for now, I shut the door of the Voot and walk around to my side of the ship, exhausted in every sense of the word. The system whirs to life and we ascend above the trees in the darkness. I punch in the coordinates for the base and lean back in my seat, glancing over at Dib. His cheek is smushed into the side of the chair. The ship is silent save for the sound of his snores, and the weight of tonight's events settle in my bones. I look away from the drooling idiot and focus on the land zipping beneath us and the tiny flecks of stars dotting the filmy night sky. My mind wanders to the repairs I'm going to have to make to the Pak and the scrubbing this ship is going to need after I drag his filthy body from it. A heavy sigh clears my chest.
"This better be worth it, Dib."