Chapter 24:
The Upper District
[Dib]
I don't know if I've ever had a day as weird as this one, and that's really fucking saying something.
You'd think it'd be enough for it to begin with heart surgery - but then Zim fucked me into the table, and somehow, that still wasn't enough, because now I'm sitting in a freaky underground space pod with Tak…while wearing her clothes.
Well, the bodysuit is hers, but the pants are very much mine. I was in the middle of trying to think of a good way to explain why I needed to wear my jeans over the bodysuit when Zim, helpful as ever, told her that my "mating organ" doesn't "retract."
I will never recover from the amount of hatred and disgust she managed to work into a single expression.
She kept the insults to herself, but in their stead, she left a thick, prickling silence that she only broke once as we stepped out from her base when she told me to keep my mouth shut and my eyes down - my two least favorite things to do. Since then, she's said nothing, and all of my questions and fears and childish excitement have been swelling in my skull with no relief in sight.
A wet, guttural laugh snaps me from my sulking thoughts, loud enough to make me flinch. I glance at the shimmering orange glass separating our pod from the others, completely obscuring the rest of the passengers, closing us in from floor to ceiling, like slots in the chamber of a gun. Across from me, Tak rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath. The barrier muffles most of the conversation, but she looks annoyed nonetheless and glares at the wall.
I don't bother asking what they're saying or why she's mad. She's always mad. Instead, I roll my cheeks between my molars and slide my thumb over the smooth edge of the radio, trying to ignore the growing anxiety and the silence from the headphone tucked in my ear. Zim hasn't said a single word, and though I'm sure he's listening to everything, he's muted his end of the frequency. I didn't think we'd talk much during the trip, but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't hoped to at least hear him working on the Voot. The background noise would have been a nice distraction. Something familiar. Between him and Tak, I've been suspended in a tense and quiet anger, like I'm being punished.
How mature.
I shift in my seat, crossing and uncrossing my legs in a futile search of comfort. It doesn't feel like we're moving at all. There's no friction, no resistance, no sound to indicate acceleration or deceleration - just a faint, low hum from somewhere above. The lack of sensory feedback serves as a bitter reminder of the trip ahead. How many days did Zim say we'd be in the Voot? Twelve? More than that? It took six days to get here, and I was only conscious for four of them, but the small, dark confine of the pod is already making me dread our departure. I can't imagine spending twelve days in a tiny ship with Zim and all his moods, especially now that things are…different.
I mindlessly gnaw at my lower lip and press my knees together. The ache left my body a while ago, and the paralysis has worn off completely, but in the punishing silence, my thoughts run wild, feeding the anxiety as its roots spread deeper.
Things are different. Way different. So different, that they can never go back. How long is he going to want this? What even are we now?
Nothing, I remind myself. This is nothing - he said it, you said it - you both know it's nothing.
Something squirms in my gut. Before today, I was sure it was nothing, too. Stress, hormones, an extension of the new, parasitical bond we share through my mutation; a really weird and intense flurry that could be chalked up to loneliness, puberty, and opportunity. His pheromones are definitely a factor, because that shit felt like biological warfare.
But none of those things explain how badly I wanted him to kiss me.
I clench my fists in my lap and grimace at the thought. It's not as enticing as it was in the moment, no; it's unsettling and heavy and pathetic and…something else, too. Is that disgust? Or shame? I can't tell - I can never tell. Everything blends together all the time and it never stops–
"You look ill again."
Tak's voice rips me from the current. I blink, holding my breath, quietly grateful despite the contempt in her gaze.
"I'm fine," I say, shifting in my seat again. "Just nervous, I guess."
She glares for a second longer before sighing and redirecting her attention to the glass. I lean back against the cool, sloped seat and purse my lips.
"Are you not saying anything because you hate me, or because we're not supposed to be talking?"
Purple eyes flit to mine. "Which answer will keep you quiet?"
"Neither, honestly." I shrug, thankful for even the smallest conversation after what feels like hours of tension and silence. "How much longer until we reach the next station?"
A myriad of expressions filter through her face, as if she's trying to decide whether to humor me.
"Soon," she mutters.
"And where do we go after we stop?"
"Through the tunnel."
God, it's like pulling teeth. "...And then?"
She taps her claws along her forearms and curls her lip. "And then we'll be there. Do you need an itemized list of everything? Should I be counting our steps or giving you our exact coordinates every five seconds?"
My brow knits. "Didn't you say the district was dangerous? Shouldn't you want me to ask questions so I'm not totally clueless when we get there?"
The ire in her gaze intensifies, but her lips press thin, and I know she knows I'm right.
"I expect you'll be clueless no matter what," she grumbles, "but fine. The next station is at the base of the district, and the tunnels lead to different sectors in the mountain. The walk won't take long, and the tunnels are usually empty, so all you'll need to do is follow me and keep your mouth shut."
I frown, trying to picture it with what little she's given me. "They live in a mountain?"
"Yes, and they're not particularly friendly, so don't try anything stupid." She crosses her legs and nods at the radio in my hand. "You'll need to turn that off once we get there."
"If you even think about turning it off, I'll leave you here."
Zim's voice makes me jump. Tak raises a brow as I adjust the headphone in my ear.
"He says no."
She scoffs. "Fine. Put yourself at risk - see if I care."
"Uh, Zim," I start, "she says–"
"You'll keep the radio on, Dib."
His frequency goes quiet again. With a defeated groan, I cross my arms. "Guess I'm putting myself at risk, then."
She rolls her eyes and grumbles something about us being idiots, and this time, I have to agree.
"Zim," I say, low, but he doesn't respond. I grit my teeth. "I know you're listening, you stupid bug–"
A sharp trill fills the air and I flinch. Tak is already standing to her feet, smoothing out her cloak.
"This is our stop," she drones. "Come on."
I quickly follow and shove the radio in my pocket, all too aware of the silence on the other end.
We slip through the narrow corridor of the transport system. I keep my eyes on her back, resisting every temptation to peak through the shimmering glass of the other pods. Outside of a few hushed conversations and the occasional snort, it's quiet. This whole trip has been quiet, really. Despite the noise from the city streets on our way here, it felt like we were invisible, moving through the crowd with an ease that made no sense, given where we were. From the quick glances I've stolen, and from what I've gathered in my periphery, no one pays attention to each other. It seems almost customary here to ignore everyone and everything unless you absolutely need to interact. The boarding system at the first station was entirely automated - we didn't have to look at or speak to a single person. However tightly packed the city may be, it's incredibly isolated, and the observation is frustrating and fascinating in equal turns.
When we exit, I notice we're the only two getting off at this station. I glance back at the transport, noting the impossibly smooth, black metal - like a bullet through a tube. It hovers in silence, completely suspended from the ground, walls, and ceiling. The panels seal shut, forming a seamless bond as if there was never a door there at all.
"Dib."
I blink from my trance and hurry after her. The station - honestly, it's more of a cavern than an actual building - is empty. There aren't any futuristic amenities, no benches or credit systems, and the air has a strange smell to it, like iron and powder. Our boots click along the dark stone as we climb up long, steep steps, and the soft orange sky comes into view. I wince at the change of light and quickly scan the narrow road stretched out ahead. It's lined with towering trees - the same ones I saw from the cliff where Zim had parked the Voot - and beyond it, a black, jagged mountain looms up through the hazy atmosphere; ominous in its beauty.
Tak sets an even pace down the road. I trail a few steps behind her, my gaze sweeping through the trees. Instead of foliage, the pointed branches are littered with glowing cuts of gemstones; purple, blue, and green. They catch the light of the nebula above, and it gives them the illusion of movement, as if they were simply leaves flitting with the breeze. I scan down the thick, twisted trunks and the bony roots that plummet beneath muddy earth. The bark looks like stone; shapes carved from obsidian.
"Don't lag behind me," Tak says, puncturing the unnatural silence laced in the fog.
"Sorry." I skip a step and match her stride. Seeing as how we're completely alone, I take a chance at conversation. "You know, for a planet full of outlaws or whatever, the people here are kinda…chill."
She glances at me, arching a brow. "Chill?"
"Yeah." I shrug, relieved at her engagement. "I thought there'd be bodies in the street or something."
She scoffs. "That'd be a waste of a body."
"...Right." I glance up at the canopy of jewels. "Nobody even looked at us."
"The people here are well aware that everyone is capable of doing the worst possible thing at any given moment," she says. "It gives them a strong incentive to keep to themselves. The ones who stand out or cause trouble don't last very long - but I'm sure you learned that lesson with your little display in the market."
I wince, absently tracing my stomach beneath my cloak. "Zim said he had to stab me before someone else did...or something."
She snorts as if she's fond of the memory. "Those who step out of line are fair game. Zim drew first blood, therefore your fate was his to decide. No one is allowed to intervene at that point."
I frown. "It makes sense, I guess...in a fucked up kind of way."
"Yes," she hums. "You're lucky his singular brain cell was operational."
I pull the cloak snug around my shoulders and avert my attention to the trees. The memory is difficult to shake; the recollection of pain burrowing between my organs, blood smearing in the street as a few dozen eyes chased after me like wolves. I'm so focused on trying to bury the images, I nearly jump out of my skin when Tak roughly grabs my arm.
"Watch where you're going," she snaps.
I shake my head to reorient myself and realize we're at the base of the mountain. The path suddenly dips into a narrow tunnel, dissolving in the black. My throat tightens.
"In there?" I ask, fear thinning my voice. "We're going...in there?"
"Yes." She looks at me like I'm a petulant child she refuses to soothe. "I told you, they live in the mountain."
Right. She did say that. But I didn't think it'd be...
"Is that going to be a problem?" she asks, leaning in with a hint of a sneer.
"No," I answer stiffly.
"Good." Her shoulder jabs into mine as she shoves past. "Keep up with me. No gawking."
My brain fails to formulate a response. Chest tight, I pull in a sharp breath and step down into the tunnel.
The steep gradient forces me to lean my weight back on my heels. I fiddle with the radio in my pocket and squint as my eyes adjust to the fading light, coating my surroundings in a muted, pink film. While the space isn't exactly small, it's still very much underground, and a familiar feeling of dread pools low in my gut.
We go down a ways before the path evens out, and I can't help but wonder how far below the earth we are now. The tunnel is dark, its vaulted ceiling mired with dangling roots and the sharp glint of gems, amber and purple, half-buried in the surrounding stone. Our steps are marked with the quiet swish and crackle of gravel beneath our boots, amplified by the silence, echoing in the tension. Water trickles from the walls.
I try not to think about the last time I was in a place like this. I try to keep my eyes on the outline of Tak's shoulders and ignore the growing scent of must and soil and something sickeningly sweet. My heightened senses do me zero favors. I alternate each breath between my nose and mouth until I begrudgingly succumb to the realization that it's going to smell and taste like this the entire time, no matter what I do.
We go further, deeper, and the dread rises in my blood. Grazing my thumb over the radio, I tell myself that I'm okay - that I'm here, not there. Sure, it's dark and humid and it stinks like rot, but it's not the same.
It's not the same.
"What're you slowing down for?" she asks sharply. I search for words, but the darkness eats them whole, and all I can do is move my feet a little faster. She scoffs and mutters under her breath, pushing ahead. The muscles in my jaw pluck and pull, teeth grating, pulse flicking at my neck, hot and sticky. Loud.
It's not the same.
I close my eyes for a moment - a mistake. I see the woman, see her mottled flesh pulled taut over her bones, her gums black, her hair stringy and wet. The water tasted foul, like the air around us now. Her skull fractured so quickly, punched through by the blade of Zim's PAK. Copper and rot. The memory is traitorously detailed, all the way down to the ragged zip of her scream.
The radio creaks in my hand. I ease off the pressure, pulling in a deep breath and focusing again on the outline of Tak's cloak.
I'm here, not there.
It's not the same.
Her scream doesn't stop, though. It plays with no beginning and no end, just one solid note of horror slicing through my veins. I try to bury it beneath other memories, but my thoughts betray me, drawing worse ones from the depths. Ones of sunken eyes and needled teeth, of blood black as tar, jaws unhinging like a snake. The pressure grows and grows in my gut, up through my chest, squeezing my heart and lungs-
"Hey, Zim?" My voice is tiny - razor thin. Tak glares back at me for the briefest moment before deciding she doesn't care. I ignore her, waiting to hear the frequency shift in my earpiece.
All that answers is silence, and the monotonous crunch of our steps. It gets harder to breathe, to swallow, to think. My skin feels cold and clammy, and yet viciously hot. I squeeze the radio and curse under my breath.
"Just - just unmute your side for a second," I whisper, smaller and smaller. "Please."
For a second, there's nothing, and my gut twists unimaginably tight. I'm about to try again, his name like grains of sand caught in my throat - but then, with a quiet click, noises filter through the earpiece. The hiss of a torch, the muted scrape of metal, the static pop of sparks.
Sounds of life. Sounds of him.
I almost choke on the relief. "Thanks."
He doesn't say anything, but it doesn't matter. I close my eyes every other step and pretend I know what tools he's using, what wires he's stripping, what panels he's replacing. Gradually, my pulse slows, and the air feels less viscous. I smile when I catch him muttering to himself in Irken - likely cursing a piece of machinery for not functioning to his standards - and the torch flicks on again. Enveloped in the noise of tangible things, the knots in my stomach slowly unwind.
...
...
...
We walk for a while before the walls begin to widen. As the path tilts up, a large, seamless metal door comes into view at the end of the tunnel.
"That's a big fucking door," I murmur. "Is this it?"
"Obviously," she grumbles.
It seems incredibly misplaced, like it was crammed into the stone out of spite. As we get closer, I can see sharp, jagged symbols etched deep in the surface.
"Okay Zim," I sigh, "you can go back to ignoring me. We're apparently here."
"Hurry up," he says, irritated. The line goes silent and I roll my eyes.
"So, do I wait out here, or am I supposed to go in with you?"
"With me." Her eyes glow in the darkness, zeroing in on the radio tightly clasped in my palm. She glares until I get the hint and quickly mute my end of the frequency.
"Leave that here," she mutters.
"What? No way," I argue. "Zim said to keep it–"
She moves too fast for me to register, swiping the device from my grasp and smashing it against the stone in one clean sweep. The earpiece emits a sharp whine before losing all connection.
"What the fuck!" I step back, heart thundering, heat prickling up my neck. "What're you doing?!"
"Helping." She drops the broken radio at her feet. "I already told you we couldn't bring it with us."
"But you didn't have to–" A strangled groan tears through my vocal cords. The panic hits me like a wave, harder now. Colder. "What am I supposed to do if something happens? Zim said–"
"Zim isn't here," she hisses, stepping closer. "Now stop throwing your tantrum and listen to me."
My back scrapes against the rocks, sweat dripping behind my ears.
"You're going to do everything I say," she presses. "You're going to keep your mouth shut - don't look at them, don't speak to them, don't breathe on them. You're going to stand where I tell you to stand and you're not going to move a single muscle until I say otherwise." She closes the thin gap between us, glaring up at me with ferocious violet eyes and sharp teeth. "Do you understand?"
My chest swells with ice. I swallow hard and glance around, weighing my options - but I have very, very few. If I knock her out, then what? Where do I go? How do I get back? Zim doesn't even know where we are–
"Do you understand?" she snarls.
The runoff along the walls seeps through my cloak, biting at my shoulders and spine.
"...Yes." I clench my fists until my nails dig and sting. "But the second we're done here, I'm kicking your ass."
"Sure." She plucks the headphone from my ear and tosses it aside. "Keep your hands to yourself while we're in there, no matter what they do."
"What?" My throat tightens. "What does that mean–"
A viscous hiss of steam erupts from all sides of the door. I jump, eyes wide, fright searing through my veins as every instinct screams for me to run. She glares at me one last time before turning away to face the panels as they slide open, vanishing into the rock with a low, serrated groan.
A flush of heavy, cool air rolls over us, tainted with the stench of something sickly, like the pulp of rotting fruit. There's a cloaked figure in the doorway, looming more than a foot over my head with three blazing yellow eyes that bore through me like a rabid wolf. My stomach drops.
There's no mistaking it - the jagged snout, the dark green scales, the broad shoulders lined with horns - this is one of the reptilians I saw when I first snuck into the city.
It takes everything I have not to move or curse or run. I yank my gaze from its face and focus on the back of Tak's head, clenching my jaw tight as my pulse hammers through my neck.
Tak says something to it in another language, low and throaty, layered with deep clicks that set my hairs on edge. I can feel its eyes locked on me even as it nods and returns her greeting.
"Follow me," she whispers, not bothering to look back at me. "Remember what I told you."
I move on autopilot. The fear has solidified in my marrow, spreading to my limbs until they feel like anchors. The lizard steps to the side - just enough for me to pass and only graze him with the thick folds of my cloak. I suppress the flinch that threatens my bones when the door seals shut behind us.
The room is dark and damp, smeared with thick vapor that climbs down my nostrils and coats my tongue, heavy and wet and fermented. Blood and fruit. I swallow hard, stomach coiling into tight little knots as the smell continues to invade my senses. Tak nudges me as she walks past, and I follow on leaded feet. There are more reptiles stationed around the room, leaning against tables, hunched over chairs, conversing in grated, hushed tones while their sickly eyes trail after us. Too many for me to fight off - and so far, only one exit.
My heart spasms. Trapped. We're trapped. No - I'm trapped. Trapped in here with these creatures, surrounded by their stench and the septic glow of their eyes. I have nowhere to run.
Zim was right. I shouldn't have come here, shouldn't have trusted Tak, shouldn't have let my guard down and lost the only means of communication I had left.
I'm so fucking stupid–
"In here."
Her voice drives splinters of ice beneath my skin. We move through a narrow hallway that slopes down with the earth, and I blink at the vapor in the air. It's heavier now, a little sweeter, soaking my lungs with rot. As we cross into the next room, I spot three more reptiles waiting for us. One of them sits up on a long, couch-like structure at the center. His eyes scour my frame and he slips a thin metal tube from the edge of his mouth, blowing a plume of orange-tinged vapor. I ignore the unimpressed glint in his gaze and scan the fleshy pouch at his side where the tube connects. Whatever they're smoking has permeated every molecule of air around us, and I can only hope it has no effect on humans. I'm already fucked enough as it is.
Tak motions me to her side near the back of the room. I do as I'm told, finding little solace in pressing my back against the closest wall. She continues her conversation with the hooded reptile while I scan the room for signs of something, anything, that could possibly help me - but of course, I come up empty. Beyond the shelves, crates, and barrels, I recognize nothing, and the unrelenting shroud from their pipes only adds to the disorientation.
The lizard on the farthest end of the room joins his friend on the couch. They hiss, arguing about something before they catch my stare. I look away, but not fast enough to miss the way their rigid lips tug into frowns. Their tones sharpen, and my heart skips. I try to focus on the patterns etched across the walls when I notice the third reptile shift from his place by the hall. I watch him in my periphery as he steps closer. And closer.
And closer.
Panic zips up my spine. I straighten my shoulders, nostrils flaring, eyes burning as I fight to feign interest in the stone carvings. A brief glance at Tak proves she's paying no attention. She motions to her chest like she's explaining something, and the lizard tilts his head, humming low, his gaze sweeping from her to my sternum. The hairs along my arms raise in a ripple of goosebumps. I look away as the other one closes in, hovering over my shoulder, the humid plume of his breath falling across the top of my scalp. My heart rate shoots through the roof and every fiber of my being screams for me to react, to do something - but Tak's words root me to the floor.
Keep your hands to yourself…no matter what they do.
My nails cut tiny crescents through my sweating palms. Jaw clenched, I alternate between staring at the wall and checking Tak's expression, searching for a hint of reassurance, direction, acknowledgement - but she continues her hushed conversation, and with a sinking, icy dread, I realize I'm on my own.
I know I'm not supposed to look at them, but the warning bells are deafening, and I need to at least pretend I'm in a position to strategize. Stealing glances to my right, I scan the reptile for details. He's not wearing a cloak, and the muddy, scaly leather of his uniform fits tightly to his frame, accentuating the sharp ridges along his forearms and biceps that rival the size of my fucking head. Despite my mutated abilities, I'm starting to think I couldn't take even one of these guys down.
My gut continues twisting. The two on the couch are watching us now, eyes gleaming with predatory interest. They don't seem to be carrying any weapons, but with claws and teeth like those, it honestly doesn't matter.
I look away again, pretending to study the wall when the one next to me shifts his weight ever so slightly, and the dim amber glow of the room catches on something hanging from his belt–
Oh, good - a giant knife. Fucking lovely.
The pressure mounts, the fear so high and tight, it's absurd. I don't know if I want to laugh or cry or pass out, so I just stand there, still as a board while the cortisol eats my insides.
What am I supposed to do? Ignore him? Say something? Would he even understand if I tried? What's alien-lizard for 'back the fuck up before I punch you in the snout'?
I'm so lost in the panic, I almost don't hear her say my name. Blinking hard, I turn to face her with wide eyes and a pulse so rapid, it feels fatal.
"Dib," she says again, baring teeth, as if I'm the problem. "They're going to examine your implant."
I open my mouth to argue, but the look on her face intensifies, her broiling gaze silently demanding me to be quiet, and the words die halfway up my throat. I swallow and offer a microscopic nod, and she motions for the hooded reptile to proceed. He's not as tall as the one currently pressing against my shoulder, but his eyes are meaner, tinted orange and red in the corners like an ancient, nameless beast. The scales along his face are tipped in a black iridescence, catching flecks of light at odd angles. I stay still, glaring at Tak and hoping she can read the venom in my expression, because I'm absolutely going to punch her in the throat the second we're out of here–
A single claw slips through the folds of my cloak and slices across my bodysuit. I flinch as the fabric tears, exposing the shiny, dark metal of my implant. On instinct, I raise my hands in an attempt to shield myself from whatever the fuck is about to happen, but the effort is immediately punished when the lizard on my right grabs both my arms and sharply pulls them behind my back, talons puncturing my wrists with frightening ease.
My mind goes blank, vision narrowing to a single point of focus as the hooded one slides his claw along the border of the implant, scraping where flesh meets machine. I don't think I'm breathing - I don't remember how to. My body suddenly feels completely detached from my brain, and all I can do is stand there, watching, helpless; a soundless scream swelling between my vocal cords.
He says something to Tak, and the tenor of his voice thrums through my nerves. She responds, almost sounding bored, her arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. If I survive this, I'm going to beat the shit out of her–
The pressure drops in my chest. Startled, I watch as he unscrews one of the vials from the maintenance port and examines the glowing tube before pushing it back in. The click reverberates through my rib cage, and I swallow a pained gasp.
The one behind me starts talking, and my entire body breaks out in goosebumps. My knees threaten to buckle. His grip tightens around my forearms, squeezing the bones, and my pulse climbs up, up, up–
Tak moves a little closer as the hooded one slips a thin, black disc from beneath his cloak. All three of them are talking, debating something, and she won't make eye contact with me. Trapped between the two hulking aliens, I feel smaller than small - I feel like prey. A mouse in a field. I don't know what's going on or what they're saying; I don't know what I'm supposed to do–
Bright blue light flares from the center of the disk, and a high-pitched whine punches needles through my eardrums. My eyes lock on Tak again, frantic. She meets my gaze, and I see a sliver of uncertainty cross her expression. The hooded one barks something out - an order, maybe - and Tak's jaw clenches as if she wants to argue. She looks at me. Adrenaline rushes down my spine.
Nervous.
She's nervous.
Why would she be–
My right arm is swung up against the wall. I stumble back, head smacking into the stone, breath sticking in my lungs. I hear the hiss of sliding metal; I see the blade, catching the light as it blurs toward me; an eternity, a millisecond–
It goes through my wrist and hits the rock on the other side with a clang. My heart seizes, body jerking from the force of the blow as hot, sticky blood audibly spurts from the wound, gushing down my arm like a river. If I make a sound, I don't hear it, don't feel it, don't taste it. Everything in me freezes and boils in rapid, nauseating succession. Bile surges up my throat. Shock rips through my nervous system, stealing my vision, melting my bones. My muscles have gone limp, leaving me slumped between his bruising hands and the wall. There's a flash of blue somewhere in front of me. My ears are ringing.
He lets me go, and I hit the ground on my knees, folding inward, tucking my arm against my stomach. Blood pours from the severed stump of my wrist, smeared over the clean slice of bone and muscle and tendon–
Bleeding.
I'm bleeding.
I'm - my hand - my hand is–
Embers catch between my lungs, and suddenly, there's fire. It bursts from my chest, a white-hot nova spitting molten iron through my veins, devouring every molecule of oxygen. The fire gets hotter, until my eyes ache with the heat, vision warping red and black. It burns and burns and burns and burns, and I wonder if I'm dying, if I'm disintegrating here, in the smoke and the rot, and I wonder if Zim knows, if he can feel it, if he'll find me before I–
"Dib, breathe."
My eyes snap open, wet and rimmed with salt. Tak's kneeling in front of me, a blur of shadow, a glow of purple. I blink hard and fight to inflate my lungs, to pull in air that seems thick as tar, and something cool wraps around my hands–
My hands–
"Come on, you wretched thing," she hisses. "You've been doing it since you were born - breathe."
Warmth trails down my cheeks. I choke, gulping down a breath, and it hits like a cool breeze. Her grip tightens around my fingers. I stare blankly at the pool of blood in my lap, at the fresh, pink skin extending from where the knife bore down. As my senses return in flushed bursts, I regain control of my breathing and carefully lift my right hand.
"What–" My throat is raw. "What ha–"
"Don't speak," she warns, leaning in. Her claws are smeared with my blood. "We can leave now. Just stay quiet and follow me."
She stands up, gently pulling me with her. The room stops spinning, and then it's too still, too quiet. I swallow hard and glance around. Blood coats the floor. Above me, there's a mark in the wall, dented by the blade, spattered with red. The reptile that had been holding me stands off to the side. He glares down at me, expression unreadable as his forked tongue flicks at the corner of his snout, licking flecks of my blood from his scales. My stomach rolls, bile stinging the back of my throat. I look away.
The hooded one steps closer and drops a small black box in Tak's palm. She nods to him, speaking in that low, grated language, and his brimstone eyes meet mine before he waves us off.
"Come on," she murmurs, slipping the box into her cloak. They watch us as we go, the heat of their gaze snapping at our heels. We pick our way through the rooms, toward the door, ignoring the ones that stare, nostrils flaring at the scent of my blood. My thoughts continue to reorient themselves, and with every step, the stunned exhaustion gives to the mounting weight of anger. I glance down at my implant. It's hot to the touch, whirring and buzzing deep in my chest, gleaming in the low light. My brow knits tighter and tighter until we reach the door. No one says anything as we leave, and with a hiss of steam, the panels slide shut behind us.
The air of the tunnel feels like a coastal breeze compared to the hazy stench of the den. I release a shaky breath, but the relief quickly evaporates, and I'm left with nothing but rage.
Tak glares in my direction, as if she can sense the rearing violence. "Do yourself a favor and wait until we're further away," she growls. She turns on her heels, and I follow after her. The stone crunches beneath our steps, water trickling down the walls, filling the silence. The heat builds and builds, pooling in my gut, winding taut. We're nearing the end of the tunnel when she gives an irritated sigh.
"Alright, that should be–"
I hit her hard enough to send her sprawling on her ass. To her credit, she makes no sound, no attempt to defend herself as I throw myself on top of her and pin her by her throat. Her eyes burn up at me, lip curled, jaw clenched tight, talons digging at the stone by her sides.
"You better start talking," I spit, "and it better make a whole lot of fucking sense, or I'm gonna cut off your fucking hand–"
"Please," she growls, "it grew back–"
I lean forward, pressing hard into her neck. She chokes, eyes pinched in rage and muted fright.
"Start - talking," I snarl through clenched teeth. "What the fuck just happened, Tak?"
"I told you, you idiot," she sputters. "I'm helping–"
"The fuck you are!" I snap. She tries to wriggle out from under me, but I jam my knees into her ribs, pressing my weight down on her torso. "You said you needed my help - that you'd be in danger if you came here alone." A fiery laugh stings my chest. "But you seemed pretty fucking chummy with those scaly fucks, didn't you?"
My grip tightens. She curses at me, her face turning an interesting shade of purple and gray as she thrashes, and I realize I'm probably actually choking her, but I can't stop. The rage bubbles up from my marrow, heated by the fear and humiliation and the pain of metal cleaving through flesh and bone like my wrist was made of butter–
"W-weapon," she coughs, raking her talons across the stone as if to avoid slitting my throat. "They're m-making you a weapon–"
I blink down at her, and the anger skips a beat. "What?"
She kicks at the air and groans. "L-let go–"
I lean back with a scowl and release her neck. Her chest heaves with effort; she gasps and coughs, sucking at the air as the color slowly returns to her face. I don't let her up, but I sit back on my heels, straddling her.
"Why would they be making me a weapon?" I ask, low. Her hacking fit has dwindled enough for her to speak.
"You're going after the bounty hunter." She wipes the spit from her mouth and squints up at me. "You'll need one."
My brow furrows, skull aching with questions and doubts. "Zim already has weapons–"
Her laugh is sharp, decapitating the rest of my thoughts. "Y-you think those will work? You think Zim has any idea of what you're up against?"
I swallow instead of answering, and she scoffs.
"Of course he doesn't - and you don't, either."
I shake my head, scowling. "But we didn't ask you to make anything–"
"No, you didn't," she sneers. "Aren't I generous?"
The rage flickers again in my chest and I snarl, hunching forward and bracing my hands above her shoulders.
"If you're really helping us, what's with the cloak-and-dagger charade?" I snap. "Why didn't you just tell us what was going on? And why the fuck did they attack me if they're supposed to be making me the weapon?"
"One question at a time," she growls. "You'll confuse yourself otherwise."
My lip curls, and her eyes zero in on my fangs; a blip of fear crossing her expression. I lean in a little more.
"What kind of weapon?"
"An electrical charge." She clears her throat and strains her neck to put some distance between our faces. "The hunter is fond of cybernetics - most of his body is machine."
"Does Zim know about any of this?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you're the only one who can use it." A bitter scoff slips through her teeth. "And do you think he would've let any of that happen if he were here? He would've done something stupid and gotten us killed."
I open my mouth to argue, but quickly realize I can't. I glance down at my hand, at the spotless flesh, as if it never happened at all.
"Why… Why am I the only one who can use it?"
"It's delicate," she answers. "Any electrical interference must be ruled out - Zim's PAK would disrupt the weapon's charge and render it ineffective."
I blink, and the flash of blue light plays behind my eyes. "Fine," I growl. "But you could've at least warned me."
She glances at my hand as I cautiously flex my fingers, curling them into a tight fist.
"...I didn't know they were going to do that," she mutters.
It's my turn to scoff. "So, what? Was that just for fun? Did I piss them off or something?"
"They had to ensure your implant didn't interfere." She frowns, sighing. "I told them it helps regulate your body, including your regenerative abilities. They explained they needed to trigger the device so they could measure the frequencies emitted when your body is under duress. Of course, they didn't mention what kind of duress, so I was not expecting them to…"
"To chop off my fucking hand, yeah." A deep frown tugs at my lips, but the anger has nowhere to go. I push it out, nostrils flaring, and lean back. "Is anything even wrong with the Voot? Or did you fake that, too?"
"I didn't fake anything." She rolls her eyes. "His system is incredibly out of date and incompatible with most power sources on this side of the galaxy. You would've been stranded in space if I hadn't caught that."
I try not to think about the implication - how close we could've been to getting stuck light years away from home. If we hadn't run into Tak…
I shake my head, clenching my jaw. "So the black box they gave you - is that the weapon?"
"That's for the Voot," she says. "They're finishing the device; it'll be ready before you leave."
A steady throb beats between my eyes. "Okay…okay, so did it work? Does my implant interfere or whatever?"
"No. It will work."
I can't explain the relief that hits me - probably because I still don't know what's going on - but the cool wash soothes my nerves nonetheless. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and stand to my feet, offering a grimy, bloodied hand that she takes with pointed reluctance - but only long enough for me to pull her off the ground before she jerks her arm away. She rubs her neck, bruises forming in the shape of my fingers, and I ignore the soft pang of guilt in my chest, resisting the urge to apologize.
"You understand you can't relay any of this to Zim, don't you?"
"The weapon, or this whole shit show in general?"
"All of it." She holds my gaze with a weight I'm not expecting. "He can't know about any of this."
"Why?" I ask. "We're in this together - he should know we have a plan now–"
"Dib, listen to me." The rest of my sentence falls away at her tone. "If you tell him about it, about any of this, your mission will fail."
My brow knits, confusion running cold in my veins.
"The weapon can only be used once, and only by you," she continues, low. "And you know Zim - you know that if he finds out, he'll try to do it for you, and he'll waste your only shot."
My throat feels dry. "But if we explain that to him, I'm sure he'll–"
"He won't," she bites. "He's impulsive and arrogant, and for whatever reason, he's marked you, which means you can't trust him to approach a dangerous situation logically."
I blink, heart skipping several beats. "...Marked me?"
"Yes." She grimaces as if something unpleasant has coated her tongue. "Subtlety is not something he's familiar with."
"I still don't know what that–"
"It means he won't be thinking clearly around you," she snaps. "Because the imbecile decided that this was the best time for reckless, primitive behavior…" She trails off in Irken, her one good antennae flicking at the air, displeased. "It doesn't matter now. We have less than an hour to rinse all this filth off of you and return you to your insipid handler."
"Again," I grumble, "not a slave."
"Whatever." She turns sharply on her heels and waves toward the end of the tunnel. "Come on."
I jog after her. "Where are we going?"
"There's a spring not too far from here - you can wash the blood from your clothes."
"But…then I'll be wet."
She glares. "And?"
"And you don't think he'll find that suspicious?"
She stops in her tracks and rests a hand on her hip. "Tell me, which do you think he'd rather hear? That you're covered in blood because an alien chopped off your hand to test a secret weapon, or that you're wet because you fell into some water like an idiot?"
I stare her down, teeth grit. The anger has waned, but in its place, confusion and fear have settled, and the mixture is just as nauseating. I know she's right, though. I won't be able to hide anything from Zim if I show up looking the way I do right now. Not only would he force me to tell him the truth, he'd probably kill me himself - and he'd definitely kill Tak.
My expression slips to one of irritated defeat, and I sigh.
"Fine," I grumble. "I'll take a fucking bath."
"Thought so."