"Here are your vort dogs."

"Thanks."

"Sure..."

The mysterious hooded figure handed over the currency, then took his seat as far away from everyone else as possible.

So… this was Foodcourtia. If any single word could be used to describe it, it would be… lively. Overall the planet reeked of grease and shameless consumerism with a side order of what just had to be some sort of intergalactic health code violations.

Foodcourtia. What a stupid name, the figure thought to himself as he began to carefully take his first bite out of the foreign morsels. Well, it tasted okay. Certainly nothing like from home but at least he wasn't on the ground in agony this time. Oh wait. Stuff from home tended to that anyway when it was still around.

Speaking of, that was what was on the strange man's mind. It had been a long time. Years. Many years. Many years since it happened. Many years since his home was lost to THEM, all because of his own negligence. He thought about it all like had done every day since then as he continued to munch on the alien food. An acquired taste, but it would have to do. These days he had to take what he could get in order to survive.

He hated this lifestyle, but it was better than being caught and enslaved, or worse dead. For at least 20 years he'd been on the run, hopping from planet after planet, doomed to traverse the cosmos alone.

Although it had been so long, the memory was fresh as ever in his mind, the mental wounds still raw. He couldn't help but recall the screams and pleas of the others, only for them to be silenced for good. The planet was being conquered, and it was all his fault. Lasers were everywhere. Aliens were everywhere. People were being killed. And what did he do? He ran. Just ran. He took that accursed ship in his garage and fled the planet, leaving everyone behind to their fate. Selfish. Stupid. He only thought of himself and his own survival at that moment, knowing he was powerless to stop any of it. He spent all those years regretting it, but was determined to somehow make it right.

As for what happened to Earth, to his knowledge it was converted into a giant parking garage. How petty. As for the humans, he really had no idea what happened to the survivors if there ever were any. He thought about his family. His father. His sister. Did they survive the fray? If so, how could he ever look them in the eyes again?!

The man gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, his appetite beginning to wane. He got up and disposed of his tray, and left the building. The warm, greasy air and noisy racket of Foodcourtia washed over him. He just went through the parking lot and found his vehicle. He was about to get in-

"Hey, ain't that Irken tech?"

"..."

He paid the passerby no mind and opened the hatch.

"You ain't no Irken. Whaddya doin' with that?"

"..."

"I can report you for stealing that ship, you know."

"..."

"Don't ignore me!"

The human paid no heed to the alien's nagging, and proceeded to boot up the ship.

"Hey everybody! Come look! A thief!"

Dib just rolled his eyes and proceeded to perform a certain obscene hand gesture that the alien likely did not understand and took off after the hatch closed itself. Welp, that was yet another planet he dared not show his face on again.

He sighed as the ship left Foodcourtia's atmosphere, and just began to go in a random direction like he always did when this happened. He supposed he could have just lied and said he was an ally of the empire, but that would have been painful for him to say.

He just kept going, his mind full as he piloted Tak's ship to who-knows-where. Sure he wanted to do something, but what?! It was him against an entire armada! Well, he supposed it had been that way since the beginning, with him pretty much having been Earth's sole line of defense. Now look. He failed. He was reduced to a pitiful wanderer with no one by his side. If he was gonna take a stand after all this time, he couldn't do it alone. He needed allies, but who in their right mind would side with him after what he'd done, let alone face the wrath of all of the Irken race?! Taking a stand would either be very brave, very stupid, or both. During his travels he heard all sorts of tales about those who dared stand up against the mighty Irken Empire only to be quickly squashed like a bug. There was only one of him, and possibly millions or more of them. What could he do?

Just as the faint glimmer of hope had come, it was quickly snuffed out by these grim thoughts. If anything he had become quite apathetic, quite a contrast to his younger, determined self. Truly it was a miracle he was alive at all, a wonder he hadn't been caught.

Sometimes he wondered what his nemesis was up to these days. Probably something weird. Just thinking of the titular Irken's name was enough to fill him with rage, so he quickly shook himself out of that thought process.

But he just kept on driving, with no particular destination in mind as he continued the ruthless cycle of planet hopping to save his own skin, for better or worse…