CHAPTER 12: INVADERS FROM IRK, PART 5
Rocket Power have joined the cause against the Irken threat, and the Comvee is already halfway across the United States to pick up their next recruit.
The very idea of finding this handful of unknowns and misfits all across the country for teaming up against an incoming alien invasion might have seemed nothing short of an absurd concept, and impossible feat to accomplish, but already have two members of those needed have been gathered, and they move on their way to their next soldier of victory.
The latest edition to this team look to the job with excitement and enthusiasm, with a reservation of fear towards fighting against an alien race, but the original, Arnold Shortman, has joined only for the specific goal of seeking closure to something that has personally affected his life, and permanently so.
Once known as the Green Eye, the superhero who brought hope to the entire world, Arnold Shortman sought out the means to end the Green Eye himself, taking a permanent solution to his own problem. He has the means to take from Zim the means to usurp his powers, taking them from the corpse of Thaddeus 'Curly' Gammelthorpe, and the mean to stop it is an elixir that takes away the power of the Spirit Master...
...but he also aims to use it on himself, ridding his mind of the trauma it has collected from being the Green Eye.
The elixir was handed to Nigel Thornberry to prevent that eventuality from happening, and drank a fake meant to keep his eyes away from the true elixir, but that has not stopped Arnold Shortman from searching for it. In the dark morning hours before dawn does he search, while everyone else is asleep.
Rummaging through the cupboards and cabinets with caution and attention to what little noise he makes, he is in search for the location of the elixir, looking for anything that might feasibly contain the pink liquid within. Taking every single container capable of holding liquid, he found very few containing anything pink, and every sniff and taste from his fingertip failed to confirm that it was the elixir.
Thinking he is only one awake besides the driver, Arnold soon found that this was not the case as a light turned on behind him, making him turn around quickly as he was discovered. Standing at the light was Marianne Thornberry, looking back at Arnold with disapproval with a pair of folded arms.
With his mission failed and his stealth uncovered, Arnold placed the last container he retrieved back in the cupboard, closing its door.
"You won't find it anywhere. Nigel's hidden it well enough." Marianne said.
"I can find it." Arnold retorted.
"We lived in a small mobile home with two girls, a boy, and a chimpanzee who loved to eat all the Cheese Munchies. and, now, we live in a small mobile home with a young woman and three young men who are boys at heart who also love to eat all the Cheese Munchies. The first thing you learn around here is, if you have a favorite snack, you learn how to hide it where no one else can find it."
Scoffing at Marianne's witty deterrence with a smirk, Arnold's expression of amusement departed as he attempted to, looking for solitude again.
"Hey Arnold? Listen, I wanted to talk to you about earlier yesterday." Marianne said.
"I already know what you have to say. I already know you regretted what you did as soon as you did it." Arnold dismissed.
"Sometimes it means a little more to say it out loud, and to hear it, too."
"For yourself. So you can lay your head down and say you did it. Not exactly a sincere attempt at an apology if it's more for you, is it?"
Marianne sighed at Arnold's continued dismissals of her outreach, following him to the couch as he sat down on it.
"Please just listen for a minute. I realize I'm not your average mom. Heck, even if I was in a normal neighborhood, I might not've been an average mom, either. Nigel's the more giving and carefree one, and I'm the more strict and organized one. Soccer moms would look at us like aliens. And that's to say nothing of the lifestyle we live, and have with our kids." Marianne explained.
"Is there a point to this?" Arnold asked.
"The point is, it's not just about me owning up to my mistakes. I also do my best to make up for them, too, and correct course when I need to. It took me a long time to figure out how to deal with Debbie, and then Eliza right after that. And I still have to deal with Donnie by the day."
Beginning in private with the belief of remaining that way, the rest of the Comvee asleep, this privacy was soon broken, just as Arnold's previous attempts at stealth, but it was not made obvious yet. Laying on the floor in a sleeping bag, Otto Rocket overheard the conversation in a half-asleep state, his attention towards it bringing him to full consciousness, but he kept his eyes asleep to hide his voyeurism.
"I'm not one of your kids." Arnold said.
"But you're still a kid, Arnold." Marianne said.
"No, I'm not. I'm well past 18, I've had to help people out of their own problems before I got there, seen plenty of people die, got engaged to get marri-"
Not wishing anyone to know of Helga or his broken relationship with her, Arnold stopped his own sentence, catching the attention of Marianne and Otto.
"...I've seen enough to get older. I'm more mature than I look." Arnold corrected.
"Maturity's not about what you've seen or where you've been. If that were the case, our own kids would be wise as sages by now. Our kids are all older than you, and they still live with us." Marianne said.
"I lived with my own parents before they died. Besides, they live with you because they help with your show. That's not saying anything."
"What I mean is that we still function as a family. I'm still here for all of them, and I'm still there to help them, and they're here to help us, no matter how old they are or we are. That's how a family should be. Your parents were there for you, weren't they?"
"Yeah. And I spat their help right back in their face, and said something I shouldn't have, right before they died."
This sentence gained the strongest reaction from Otto, who, despite still maintaining his false state of sleep, held back a sob from Arnold's words.
"They still loved you, Arnold. That much I can tell." Marianne said.
"How so? You didn't even know them." Arnold sneered.
"All parents care for their children."
"I knew some who didn't."
"But were they willing to give their lives for their child, like yours did for you?"
"What difference does it make? I still said something I can't take back, and they knew it right up until they died."
"Makes all the difference in the world." Otto added.
Standing up from his false sleep, Otto gained the attention of Arnold and Marianne as he rose, listening to his input in the conversation.
"Actions speak a lot louder than words." Otto said.
"How long were you listening?" Arnold asked.
"Long enough to get an idea of the problem. You think you're the only one who lost parents?"
"Nope. Just some of the few that has a huge regret."
"Then I'm part of that few, too. You know Lars killed my dad, but do you know that I also had a huge fight with him before that? And we had a shaky relationship before that, if you could even call it a relationship?"
"Another case of somebody trying too hard to relate to me, in some attempt to make me be the Green Eye again. I can tell it from your mental state. Yeah, I know you lost your dad to Lars, and I know you really do regret how things went between you and him. You wanna try to one-up my trauma? You'll have to do harder."
"Not that I am trying to 'one-up your trauma', but I also know what you're trying to do with that magic potion, and I can tell you from experience that's no good."
"And how do you know that?"
"Because I tried to kill myself, and I almost succeeded."
Arnold's defensiveness and snark took a backseat to attention, following Marianne's example to listen.
"I get where you're coming from. Trying to make all the pain stop. Trying to numb it out with whatever you can. I spent a lot of time trying to do it with weed, beer, or energy drinks, or all three a lot of the time. Anything to try to force a different feeling in my head rather than think about what happened, and what I can't take back. Eventually, I got the dumb idea of jumping into the ocean during a hurricane, hoping that would do the trick. It would've, too." Otto explained.
"But?" Arnold asked.
"Twister jumped in and saved my ass, personally jumped in and swam me out, then somehow had enough air in his lungs to resuscitate me. Everybody was standing over me, crying their eyes out, and I realized how stupid it was to try to take myself away from them. Yeah, my mom's been gone since I was little, and I lost my dad after a big fight, but I still got the rest of my family. I got my uncle Tito, Noelani, my sister Reg, my bro-in-law Squid, and my best bud Twister."
"You still call your mom 'mom'."
"Course I do, she's my mom."
"Your dad remarried and Noelani's still your step-mom. But you still call her Noelani. She's family, but not family enough for you to call her what she is?"
With his own complex feelings on the matter, Otto could speak no longer, keeping his mouth closed as he looked down.
"It doesn't matter what she is. She's still his family. Nigel has a belief about the animal kingdom: That we're all a family within it, all part of the same planet. Humans all the more so. We're all humans here, and so are you, no matter how many powers you have. We all know you've been through a lot, but we need you to get better. We're trying to help you believe again." Marianne said.
"I stopped believing in people a long time ago." Arnold said.
"Just because you stopped believing in people... doesn't mean that people stopped believing in you."
Arnold is left with Marianne's final thoughts as she rose from the couch, preparing to head to the Comvee's driver's seat.
"I've got to go relieve Nigel. You boys better get some sleep." Marianne said.
Looking back on Marianne as she prepared to drive the Comvee, Arnold and Otto shared a small glance towards one another, as if both shared the same thoughts at that particular moment, if they each came away with different interpretations. Nonetheless, the need for sleep takes precedent, and bodies are laid to rest as the minds stayed at work, slow to slow and come to rest.
But both try, closing their eyes and breathing steadily and deeply.
Fenton Works has long been out of business and defunct.
Founded as the first company with the intention of exploring dimensions unseen by the human eye, it began at the hands of the married couple Jack and Maddie Fenton, with a family of two children along for the ride. They had been only passengers to the ride, to see their parents build the foundations of what would have been an empire in technology unique in the field of science...
...but when their most important invention failed to work, they quit the dream, and were forced to return to normal work.
When Jack rose above the ranks of a humble food company, their work became anything but 'normal', rising to the CEO of the business, comfortably coasting to the top on his culinary invention 'Fenton Fudge Pancakes', becoming so successful the company was renamed as it was remade in his image, becoming Fenton Foods.
The high source of income the family had made it possible for them to move anywhere they pleased, perhaps in a large mansion, but still do they remain together in the same house they had always lived in, with the unused ghost-hunting technology still in place, and the sign 'FENTON WORKS' still hanging above, dilapidated as the dream it stood for was.
It is this same home that Danny Fenton returns to now after a long night of partying, living in sexual and chemical excess to a degree that even he cannot recall.
Said excesses have brought him visions that he cannot contend with, giving him glimpses of a life that never was that seemed and felt more real that real itself. Well aware of his own mental issues, and the measures that have been taken to aid him through them, he knows that he should dismiss them as mere imbalances and hallucinations...
...but, not only can he not bring himself to do so, they feel far more real to him than reality itself.
Even on his way back home, he is assaulted with glimpses of this past life, groaning as he held his head in pain. Deja vu takes hold and takes a firm grip as he tried to make sense of these visions; they have served him well enough to be used for profit, to be repackaged and retold as pulp fiction as his comic book Danny Phantom: The Living Ghost, and it has brought him fame and fortune.
Most days, however, he would give it all just for peace and quiet again.
He finds neither as he continued his walk back home, hanging his head down as he panted and shook his head, trying to keep his hold on reality, as loose as it was, to complete his journey back. Having spent the night someplace he knows nothing about and cares even less to know, he walked through the front door of the house sometime before noon.
With this day being a weekend, he is lucky enough to avoid any consequences on missing school, and, so far, he seemed to be lucky enough to face any commentary or beratings from his parents, as both proved to be busy with their new jobs to spare any time towards their children; it is an old habit they acquired from their work on ghost-hunting, but the habit has proven to hard to break.
With a vacuum in the role in seeing Danny raised properly, his older sister Jazz is the one who plays the role, and she fulfills it when she catches Danny sneaking by.
"It's almost noon, Danny. Where have you been?" Jazz asked.
Having just made his way to the staircase, Danny looked over it to find Jazz looking up to him in a scorning manner with her arms folded.
"I've been out, Jazz. I got a life, too, you know. It's none of your business." Danny said.
"You're my little brother, and mom and dad aren't here to set you straight. That makes it my business." Jazz responded.
"I'm a grown man."
"Just barely. You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"How so?"
"Your eyes are droopy, your voice sounds weak, and you smell like sweat... and semen."
The crass implications of Jazz's last statement got a scoff from Danny, shrugging off her comment with a head-turn.
"C'mon, Jazz. Not like you're a virgin, either. I have a girlfriend." Danny said.
"Yeah. That hussy Sam back from Casper High. I don't know what you see in that girl, but I know she's no good for you. She's always getting you into trouble, always a risk-taker and a rule-breaker, and you get caught up in her antics." Jazz said.
"'Hussy'? What century are you living in, who still says 'hussy'?"
"You get my point."
"Yeah, and I say you're wrong about her."
"That's what they all say. Have you been taking your meds?"
"Yeah."
"You haven't had any new side-effects, right?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Alright. Here, come on down with me."
"I wanna take a shower."
"You can shower later, I got something cool to show you, and I don't get to hang out with you enough."
In an annoyed fashion that only a teenager can perfectly deliver, Danny walked down the staircase with a groan, following Jazz to the couch. Unsure of why he was summoned to the couch to Jazz, he looked to her with a questioning expression, with his face turning to her laptop.
"So what is it you want me to see?" Danny asked.
"You told me that your comic ideas come to you almost like you're living a past life, right?"
"Yeah?"
"I've been doing some research into similar phenomena, and, it turns out that you're not as unique as you think."
"Oh, gee, great. Just what every aspiring artist loves to hear."
"No, no, Danny. I mean your... Well, your condition."
"Nice way of putting it."
"What I'm trying to say is that I may be one step closer to finding out how to help you. Some of the scenes you've written, well, it turns out there's a whole bunch of fans that claim they experience past lives, and they get it from reading your work."
The explanation peaked Danny's interest, allowing him to drop his snarky attitude to pay attention.
"There's a whole trend of people talking about it on NewTube and KlikKlok, where people describe their experiences after reading Danny Phantom." Jazz continued.
"How do you know they're not just role-playing or writing fanfiction or something?" Danny asked.
"Because it goes even deeper than that. Plenty of other psychologists and psychiatrists have done entire studies on this specific phenomenon. I'm thinking about writing my dissertation on it. Ah, here's one right here."
Clicking on one of the many videos self-documenting the phenomenon, Jazz played a video of a woman talking about her experience.
"I've been a big fan of Danny Phantom for a long while now, and I sort of dismissed this whole thing going on around it, I just chalked it up to all those weirdos online trying to do a thing that people do around fictional characters, but... There was this one issue that sort of got to me, and I just had to talk about it. I was reading an issue where Danny Phantom fought against Walker when he tried keep all the people in Amity Park dying alive in limbo, trying to sentence them all to life in prison, saying they would be guilty by becoming ghosts, when I got to this one page where he spoke to a dying cancer patient and her husband. I knew immediately that the patient looked like me, and I thought it was a funny coincidence, but, as I kept reading it, I could begin to... feel it. Like, I could feel the cancer eating away at my body, and making me weak, and I was going to die. I've never been diagnosed with cancer, but I knew immediately what that woman was feeling... and how good it felt to finally give in. What really made it strange is that not only did she look like me, but we also had the same name: 'Elaine'. I also never married, but, recently, I had a guy come into my life, and I love him so much, and, not only does he look just like my hus- the girl's husband in the comic, but he also has his name, too: 'Ricky'. He's had a similar experience to me, but he isn't willing to talk about it so much. Putting all that together, I just don't know what it means... Maybe it means that Danny Fenton's just that good a writer, or he just... has something about him... like he knows things that he shouldn't." The woman in the video said.
When the video concluded, Jazz turned to Danny to see him looking on with uncertainty and thought, trying to make sense of what he saw.
As he listened to the woman's tale, not only does he recall the issue in question, and detect the sincerity in her voice, but he also, for reasons not yet known to him, recalls the very details she mentioned. He can feel the very emotions that Danny Phantom was meant to have felt that day, and reciprocates her emotions with a sense of deja vu.
He does not understand the visions he has, and he can see that this woman does not, either, and neither does her testimony give any clarification or answers regarding the phenomenon. There is, however, a fact about this video that gives him some shred of help as he tried to fight through his problems:
He is not alone in what he feels.
But in that realization, however, there are two other trains of thought that turn this victory into another uncertainty.
Could it be that this woman and he, along with all the others who experience this phenomena, all carry some secret truth? That they are in tune with a part of the universe that very few have tapped into, and can perhaps explain away some of its mysteries by prodding into it further?
Or is it that he is indeed sick, and he is merely reminded that he is not alone? That the so-called 'truth' that he believes he has is, in fact, no stumbling onto a grand, larger conspiracy, but simply that he suffers the same malfunction as many of these other people who report the same?
The evidence is laid on both sides of this question, and neither can make a clear case for themselves in either side of his mind. Lost in thought, his true feelings are hidden behind his distant expression, gazing miles away into his own mind, and his expression is mistaken by Jazz as simple wonder.
"See? I told you this was something you'd want to see, and you'd find this really interesting, right?" Jazz asked.
"How come... How come I never knew about this before?" Danny asked.
"You would if you actually interacted with your fans, rather than just sit in your room all day."
"I leave that to Tucker. He's way better at smooching fans. That's why Stan Lee was the face of Marvel, and not Jack Kirby or Steve Ditko, though they deserved it way more."
"Maybe it's time you get out and try it again. You constantly draw huge crowds whenever you do go to anything, and it'd be good for you to get out of the house, preferably in the daytime."
"Yeah, sure, mom, I'll think about it."
"Hey, come on. I don't mean to mommy you, but you need somebody to watch over you. Make sure you don't get into any-"
Before Jazz was able to speak her support for her younger brother, she took notice of his dilated eyes, immediately detecting that something was not right with him. Putting the back of her hand against his forehead, Jazz's attempt at checking his temperature was immediately rejected by Danny, who backed away from her touch.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Danny asked.
"Your pupils are dilated, and your skin is so sweaty it just made my hand wet. Let me feel your temperature." Jazz ordered.
"No-"
"Don't give me that. Come here."
Grabbing Danny with one hand, Jazz put the other against her sibling's forehead, checking for his temperature once again. Allowing her hand to lay against his forehead for a longer span of time, she found that his skin felt extremely hot, explaining away the profuse sweating he was under.
What was not yet explained away, she sought to reason and question.
"You've still been taking your new meds, right?" Jazz asked.
"Yeah." Danny said.
"Did you take anything else?"
"No."
"Danny, don't lie to me. If you mix the wrong thing with your meds, it could seriously mess you up. You know that warning meds always say, 'Don't consume with alcohol'? It's not just alcohol you have to worry about."
"Fine, then I'll just stop taking them and not have to worry about it."
"Danny, you know that's not an option."
"It'd save mom and dad money."
"Danny. You need this to get better. You are not well, and you haven't been since that stupid portal thing mom and dad made. Now, be honest with me: Did you take something else?"
Unable to tell a convincing lie to placate Jazz, there laid no option but to tell the truth, which, after a heavy sigh, Danny did begrudgingly.
"I had some acid." Danny confessed.
"What?! Ugh, Danny, you shouldn't be messing with that kind of stuff!" Jazz scorned.
"I'm a grown man, I can do whatever the hell I want! Besides, you're a big science girl, right? You know how many people in your field do shit like that, or harder stuff than acid? Look it up."
"This isn't about me, this is about you. Did Sam give it to you?"
Danny hissed as he turned his head, refusing to answer the question, but his gesture proved to be an answer in and of itself.
"Danny, you need to stop hanging out with Sam. I don't care if she is the artist on your comics, you can find a new artist." Jazz said.
"I'm not leaving Sam." Danny said.
"This girl is not good for you, Danny. She keeps getting you into dangerous situations, and takes too many risks. That's not good for you."
"I don't care! Listen, you might not like Sam, but I do. No, I don't just like her, I love her. I really do."
"That's what they all say. Everyone's got somebody they love and can't give up, and it turns out they were with the wrong person all this time. You're not the first, and you won't be the last."
"You're wrong. I know we're supposed to be together. You might not understand it with your science-y stuff and all your logic and reason or whatever, but I know what I know. And, I don't know how, but, somehow, I know we're supposed to be together. That's it's the way it's supposed to be."
"Danny, are you even listening to yourself? You're acting completely irrational."
"Whatever. I'm going to my room."
Getting up from his seat on the couch, Danny marched back to the staircase to leave Jazz, who continued to scorn him as he departed.
"You are not in the right state of mind, Danny. You're making decisions with a lot of big consequences, and you're making the wrong decisions. I spend a lot of work into trying to help you get better, including getting you the right medicine." Jazz called.
Reaching into his pocket, Danny took out the bottle of medication within, throwing it at Jazz, pelting his sister with a tiny plastic bottle.
"I don't want your stupid medicine! And I don't want your goddamn help! I can work things out on my own!" Danny yelled.
Storming back to his room, closing the door to it with a slam, Danny exited the sight and sound of Jazz, leaving behind a concerned older sister.
Picking the bottle of meds off the floor, Jazz let out a frustrated grunt, punching at the air to vent her frustrations. The placation did not work; her mind still rung with thoughts of a damned future for her brother, and a feeling of powerlessness to stop it and help him find his health again.
Returning to the couch, Jazz began rubbing her temples, letting out exasperated sighs as she felt a migraine start to take hold. There is a strong desire in her to scream, directing the raised volume at Danny, but logic and reason tell her not to give into the urge, recognizing that it will merely do more harm than the temporary good.
Logic and reason are all she understands, but they do not offer her any comfort or answers to herself as she started to cry.
City life comes with as many dangers as much as it does benefits.
A large city makes room for a large populace, and it is almost always filled to the brim. Community and business are fueled with human lifeblood, sustaining society well, and holding it tightly together. This expanded yet crowded environment, however, makes for just as much problems as it solves.
More people creates more problems, and more problems require more help.
From crime and food insecurity, brought about by poverty or personal strife, there is no shortage of problems, and they are just as diverse as the people themselves. The issue with this dilemma is that only a select few are willing to help, excusing themselves for their own self-interests, sometimes justified in their own problems leave them too busy to help themselves.
Gerald Johannsen is one of the few who is willing to help, and one of the fewer who knows how.
He has lived in a big city for his entire life, spending the majority of it in Hillwood before its destruction. Now residing in Seattle, another famous city of Washington state, the rules of life he has been accustomed to have not changed, nor have the needs of the people in it.
So, at the local community center, he helps where he can.
Where he can and does help now is teach a group of children how to read, educating them with fundamental skills to advance later in life. One child in particular he gives special attention to, doing so out of an obligation he felt to a man he barely knew, but knew long enough to see him shot and killed.
The girl's name is Ruby Jr., and her father was a man named Ralph, who joined Gerald on his first and last bank heist. Desperate for money with a dwindling scholarship, he turned to crime out of desperation, meeting the father of this girl on a robbery, knowing him for but a few minutes before his death at the hands of a cowboy cop who gunned him down.
This meeting, brief as it was, proved strong enough to rededicate his life to helping others, following the example of his best friend.
"Hey, Ruby, I got a new book for us to read here, just got it from the library." Gerald said.
"What book did you get?" Ruby Jr. asked.
"It's a little something call Just For You, featuring a good friend of mine, Little Critter."
"Who's Little Critter?"
"He's a kind of... little porcupine, maybe hedgehog kind of creature, but that doesn't matter. He's just a regular boy, and he's always getting himself into funny messes, always messing up here and there. So I kinda liked reading his books as a kid."
"Read it to me!"
"Alright, alright, come on here, and I'll read it."
Opening up the most famous book of the author/illustrator Mercer Mayer, the two were greeted to a picture of the aforementioned Little Critter attempting to make eggs for his mother, who herself was watching, but showed amusement as he expressed his own disappointment as the eggs fell to the floor.
"This morning, I wanted to make breakfast just for you... but the eggs were too slippery." Gerald read.
Ruby Jr. giggled at both the book and Gerald's narration of it, showing her enjoyment of the work.
The next page showed Little Critter attempting to clean the floor with a mop and bucket, but his bucket had fell and spilled across the floor, making a greater mess of what was already present. His mother had again watched his attempts to help, but this time did so with a tired expression.
"I wanted to wash the floor just for you, but the soap was too bubbly." Gerald read.
Again did Ruby Jr. giggle, much of her amusement coming from the expression of Little Critter's poor mother.
The next page showed Little Critter lying on the floor and crying, with several broken plates laying about the floor with him. His mother came to his air, helping him up off the ground, while calmly shushing his cries to comfort her son and see to any injuries he might have had.
"I wanted to put away the dishes just for you, but the floor was too wet." Gerald read.
Letting out a saddened 'aw', Ruby Jr.'s reaction to the page was one of sympathy for Little Critter.
The next page showed Little Critter holding a torn bag of groceries, with all of their contents spilled out in a trail behind him during their walk back home. His mother's expression was one of of frustration, showing her emotions with her eyes rolling back in her head, and a hand to her face.
"I wanted to carry the groceries just for you, but the bag broke." Gerald read.
Ruby Jr.'s reaction to the page was a mischievous 'whoops', showing a mixture of amusement and understanding.
The next page showed Little Critter at the dinner table with an empty glass and the crusts of a sandwich, with the ends uneaten. Looking at his mother with the unwanted crusts, Little Critter's mother smiled back, with an expression that would seem to suggest amusement.
"I ate my sandwich just for you, but not my crusts." Gerald read.
"Why doesn't he like the crusts?" Ruby Jr. asked.
"Well, sometimes bread comes with real bad crusts, and they don't taste good. Back when this was written, it happened a lot."
"Oh. Okay."
The next page showed Little Critter jumping up and down on his bed and joyfully cheering, expressing an energetic outburst when he was meant to be taking a nap. Coming into the room with a book to read her son, his mother watched with a smile and narrowed eyes at his play.
"I wanted to take a nap just for you, but the bed was too bouncy." Gerald read.
Ruby Jr. giggled once again, showing her enjoyment of the book.
The next page showed Little Critter attempting to pull a reel-style lawn mower, then attempting to push it, only to find it was too tall for him to use. Looking out the window at his failed attempts to mow the lawn, his mother smiled in amusement, finding his efforts noble even if not successful.
"I wanted to mow the lawn just for you, but I was too little." Gerald read.
"Why does the lawn mower look like that?" Ruby Jr. asked.
"Back then, they didn't have lawn mowers powered by gas or electricity. You had to push these things, and they were really hard to use."
"That's stupid."
"Well, that's how it worked back then."
The next page showed Little Critter picking a red, juicy apple fresh off the branch with the intent to bring it to his mother, but ended with him handing an apple core to his mother, offering only the remains of it with an embarrassed smile. Smiling with her hand to her face, his mother accepted it anyway.
"I picked an apple just for you, but on the way home I got hungry." Gerald read.
Ruby Jr. laughed harder than her previous giggle, finding the page funnier than the last.
The next page showed Little Critter's mother setting the dinner table on her own, while glancing at her son with a smile. Little Critter, having a handful of silverware by his side, appeared to become distracted by his task and sat in front of the television, watching a rock concert play.
"I wanted to set the table just for you, but the TV was too loud." Gerald read.
"Hey, come on, turn off the TV! Help your mommy!" Ruby Jr. jeered.
The next page showed Little Critter in the bathtub, peering up to see his mother looking at him in a scolding manner with arms crossed. Her expression was made on account of the water from the bathtub spilling out and splashing all over the floor, with the soap bar falling out and bath mat soaked, making a mess.
"I wanted to not splash in my bath just for you... but there was a storm." Gerald read.
"Now look! You made a mess!" Ruby Jr. jeered.
The next page Little Critter in his pajamas, being hugged by his mother, giving her a kiss.
"I wanted to do something very special, just for you." Gerald read.
The final page showed Little Critter appearing victorious, raising his hands up with a smile.
"And I did it." Gerald read.
Closing the book, Ruby Jr. applauded and cheered, bringing a smile to Gerald's face as he saw her reaction.
"So, I take it you liked the book?" Gerald asked.
"I did, I did! It was fun and funny, but I didn't like how Little Critter kept making trouble for his mommy. I wouldn't have done that. That was mean." Ruby Jr. said.
"Well, that's the thing. We make a lot of mistakes sometimes, and we don't do the right thing, but it's not because we're mean. We just do it because... We do the things we do because we are who we are. It's just how we express ourselves. A lot of times, it's how we show each other love."
"Even if they mess up?"
"Even if they mess up. There's an old saying I've heard once: We like people for their qualities, but love them for their defects."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Let me put it to you this way: Is there somebody you consider a friend?"
"You."
"Besides me, like, someone your age?"
"I'm friends with Jessica."
"Is there something that Jessica does that you don't like?"
"Well... She does eat kind of loud. It's annoying."
"But you're still friends with her, right?"
"Of course!"
"So, there you go. She might do one thing you find annoying, but you're still friends with her."
"She also farts like a boy."
Gerald chuckled at Ruby Jr.'s bluntness, composing himself to conclude his point.
"Alright, you get the point. Here, I want you to read this one on your own, and, when you're ready, you can read it back to me. And when you've read it back to me, I'll have another book to read you." Gerald said.
"Yay! I'll read it the whole time you're gone, Mr. Gerald, and I'll read it better than anybody!" Ruby Jr. declared.
The mentor and student shared a hug, with the latter departing to see to her other activities.
With his own agenda to see to, Gerald gathered his belongings and cleaned up his workspace, preparing to help elsewhere in the community center. Peacefully gathering the last of his supplies, Gerald stood up and prepared to depart elsewhere to put his labor to use in another place...
...but, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man with a football-shaped head standing alone. Stealing a second look at the lone man, having his suspicions pertaining to his identity, narrowing his eyes and stepping closer in order to confirm it, Gerald approached with anticipation.
When seeing a sporting of blonde hair and pair of green eyes, his face lit up in delight.
"Hey Arnold... That really you, man?" Gerald asked.
"I heard reports of G-Funk operating in Seattle, took down a supervillain after he tried to rob a bank. I would've thought you'd known better than to keep up the caped crusader routine after Hillwood." Arnold said.
Gerald's delight was soured with shame, attempting to explain himself to Arnold regarding his actions.
"Well... It's a long story, but... I had to do something. I couldn't just-" Gerald tried to say.
Cutting his sentence short with a hand on Gerald's shoulder, Arnold held his other hand out to invite a familiar handshake between the two.
"But it's good to see you all the same, Gerald." Arnold smiled.
As his face lit back up, Gerald put his on hand to Arnold's completing their special handshake by waving their thumbs against one another. Once completing the handshake, the friendly greeting was followed by a hug, with two best friends embracing in joy for the first time in a very long time.
After delighted chuckles, the greetings came to a close to move on to the more serious matter at hand.
"We need to talk." Arnold said.
A few minutes are spent explaining the situation and current events to Gerald, as told by Arnold, Dib, and Otto. Having seen his fair share of strange happenings and the paranormal, he is quick to accept the facts laid out to him, though he is no less disturbed by them as any of the others.
"And that's the score. It's Hillwood, but on the entire planet. And it's because of this alien." Arnold said.
"Damn, man. That's some heavy stuff. I remember the closest we had to deal with aliens was that Halloween prank that went South." Gerald said.
"Yeah. I remember that. Fun times, I guess."
"Yeah. Definitely was fun seeing Helga get some comeuppance for all the grief she gave us during that time."
Arnold went silent at the mention of Helga's name, making Gerald go silent as well at the realization of his mistake.
"Yeah. Right. Helga." Gerald sighed.
"Yeah." Arnold said.
"You wanna know how she's doing?"
"No."
The moment turned somber and quiet at the mention of her name, forcing it to be sent back to the more pertinent discussion.
"We came here because we need your help. If Curly's not really dead, and there's a chance for more destruction and death, I have to stop it. And in order to make sure it's put to an end, I can't do it alone." Arnold said.
"And, conveniently enough, that robot you mentioned had my name on the list." Gerald said.
"Actually, no, Mr. Johannsen. It was only four names that were listed, one of which is Mr. Rocket. But, given your experience with Mr. Shortman in Hillwood, I calculated that it would be a good investment to have you on." Dib explained.
"And as much as I don't like him, his point of having more bodies on our side is a sound one." Arnold added.
"You and I saw enough bodies in Hillwood, and a lot of those our friends." Gerald retorted.
"All the more reason that I need your help. Gerald, please. I know we've had a hard falling out after all we've been through, but I cannot face this alone. Ignore everything he says. If I consider it a real threat, then it is. Are you in?"
"Last time I was 'in', I saw my fiancee get shot in the back."
The mood turned cold and sad once again, brought to yet another lover accosted by the events of Hillwood.
"Has Phoebe gotten any better?" Arnold asked.
"She still can't walk. She puts up a hell of a fight to make sure you don't know it, trying to do everything on her own. I can't just get up and leave her here." Gerald said.
"Not to pry into your love affairs, man, but if what these guy say is gonna happen, then your girlfriend not being able to walk ain't much of a problem if E.T.'s gonna come in and blow her away." Otto added.
"If what they say is going to happen. All I believe so far is what Arnold says about Curly, and it was only him who was able to beat him in the end. I won't do you much good."
"I had to face a walking nightmare alone, Gerald. Maybe I'm not up to facing it again." Arnold said.
Letting out a sigh, Gerald looked behind, scanning the room for Ruby Jr., and just as soon locating her playing with a friend. With a nudge, he pointed her out to the three.
"You see that little girl? Ruby Jr.'s her name, she's an orphan. Her mom died in childbirth, and her dad was killed in a bank robbery." Gerald said.
"What else?" Arnold asked.
"I was part of that bank robbery."
The mood went silent yet again, with the three taking a different glance at Gerald for his confession.
"I found out I was gonna lose my scholarship. I was gonna either have to put my family through another financial strain, or drop out. I needed money. Some guy came up to me, told me that if I could just stand around with an empty gun, play tough guy for a few minutes, I'd get a cut and be fine. Her dad was named Ralph. He was just in it to get some money for his girl, try to take care of her. He didn't seem like he could harm a fly. Probably thought it was more of a game. I wasn't supposed to know him at all. I got to anyway for a few minutes, only to watch an undercover cop shoot him down. I got the money with a bigger share, tried to see his daughter get a cut, they wouldn't do it. Phoebe was so ashamed of me, and so was I. That's when I picked up the G-Funk suit again, went after that bastard, and watched the cops get him. I stopped him, but I didn't bring back that girl's father. Ain't a damn thing that will, so I have to repair the damage by seeing that girl get some love in her life." Gerald said.
"So, you're going to let the world get taken over by aliens, just because you wanna be the big brother to some girl whose father you only knew for 3 minutes?" Otto asked.
"Yes, because I don't believe your alien bullshit."
"What about that ghost-man who came into Valiance's base and personally saved you and him from the bomb? Did you forget that?" Arnold asked.
"I didn't. What difference does that make?"
"You're willing to believe in ghosts, not to mention all the powers you saw for yourself, but not aliens?"
"I believe in what I see. I saw the ghosts and superpowers for myself. I never saw an alien before. And I don't believe it coming out of the mouth of the lost love-child of Alex Jones and Elon Musk."
"Hey, you show Alex Jones some respect! He was right about everything!" Dib protested.
Annoyed looks of disbelief are shared by everyone as they look at Dib, who, in his insanity, is blissfully unaware of how they perceive him.
"What?" Dib asked.
"Listen, pal. I get it, this dude's a crazy loser. But I saw one of these thing's ships for myself, and by future brother-in-law's been tinkering at it for months, coming up with all sorts of shit you can't find anywhere. If you won't take his word for it, take mine. These aliens do exist." Otto said.
"I don't care who believes what. What I believe in is doing the right thing, trying to help people, because someone has to. And somebody I used to know believed in that, too."
Arnold let out an disheartened sigh at Gerald's comment, composing himself before giving a response.
"You saw what I saw, too, Gerald. If you came out of that not rethinking that philosophy just a little bit, then you didn't learn anything." Arnold said.
"Yeah, and I came out trying to do the right thing, when I was the one messing up and you had to help me. You went to go hide in the jungle after it was over. Threw in the towel and gave up." Gerald said.
"I came out to stop Curly, didn't I?"
"And then what when you do? Back to the jungle to hide again? How altruistic. What happened to you, man? You used to be the guy who always looked on the bright side, trying to make the world a little better."
"I learned my lesson. What did you learn?"
"That life still goes on."
Standing up from the table, Gerald prepared to excuse himself.
"I got my own life to worry about, including a girl I love who's stuck in a wheelchair. I don't need this nonsense right now." Gerald said.
Walking away from the group, a final attempt to stop Gerald was made by Dib, who stood up and called out for him...
"Mr. Johannsen, I don't think you realize what's at stake-!" Dib called.
...but Arnold urged him back, finding no success in persuading Gerald.
"Let him go. He's not going to come with us." Arnold said.
"But... But you're the one who said we need more people. You should know that we need him more than any of us." Dib argued.
"I already urged him to stay when I should've let him go one too many times, and it's because I twisted his arm then that his fiancee's in a wheelchair. She was my friend, too. I destroyed both of their lives. He at least found a reason to do the right thing without me messing it up. If he's got something that he feels like he needs to do here, then I have no business ruining it."
Walking away from the table, Arnold made his way back to the Comvee, moving in silence without any concern for those behind him.
Also in the community center was some of the Thornberry family members, but not for the purpose of recruiting Gerald. Having a short opportunity to stretch their legs and see the area, the young wedded members of the Thornberry family, Eliza and Shane, took to a group of children, preparing to read them a book.
Elizas' choice of book was a used copy of Zoobooks, featuring an issue on Cheetahs.
"Cheetahs are some of the fastest animals on land, able to run up to 80 miles an hour. They're extremely good hunters, and, believe it or not, they're quite playful and friendly. But only if you're lucky enough to get up close to one like me, and only if you know a little magic to get them to not maul you. Now, another cool thing about cheetahs that you guys might like is-" Eliza began to say.
Then, Donnie barged in and acted as his usual self, gaining the greater attention of the children.
Being the most energetic of the group, even as a grown man, his feet make him traverse any territory he is in for the search for fun, and, with a former feral child such as himself, there is very much fun to be had, as is the case with a group of children that look up to him for entertainment, mimicking his movements and noises.
What movements he chooses to make at this moment are a series of acts of buffoonery affectionately known as the 'Wedgie Dance' by the Thornberry family, and with much disdain from Debbie Thornberry. Glossaliaic babblings of gibberish leave his mouth at record speeds, making no sound that even remotely could be considered part of the English language.
The children that were in his circle, having lost all interest in Eliza and Shane, all began mimicking his Wedgie Dance and yelled gibberish at the top of their lungs. Some went so far as to throw their shirts off, also imitating his style of wear as well as style of personality, leading the entire group of children to scream and dance like a tribe who made their first kill of a hunt, giving thanks to their gods.
The display is all fun and games to Donnie and the children, but it is less than amusing to Eliza and Shane, who, sitting in the corner in silence with their book, finding that their plans were sabotaged by Donnie stealing their spotlight with a dull surprise towards the children forsaking them.
"I guess I don't have my dad's knack for explaining animals." Eliza shrugged.
"Maybe we should've read Where the Wild Things Are." Shane added.
A quick meeting with Dib and Otto in passing lets them know the time to leave is now, and they depart with the rest as well, heading back to the Comvee. Disappointment is carried by all members of the group as the hear the news that Gerald will not join them, and immediately question whether the mission will see success or not.
But the decline of the offer also rests on Gerald as well, who took one last glance back to the exit of the community center, finding no more trace of Arnold or his accomplices, nor the Comvee in the parking lot. There is no guarantee that he will see his best friend again following this day, but he is not yet sure how to feel about this fact.
As always, there are regrets on what he did not say, and regrets on what he did say. Taking a secluded spot to himself, Gerald stared off into a blank space, thinking over the conversation he just had. There is still disbelief regarding the story, regardless of the accounts that have been shared, and how they corroborate with reality, as how he currently understands it.
What he focuses on above all, in spite of or because of the conversation, is the past,
Seeing Arnold as disillusioned as ever, there is a part of his own innocence that is gone as well, with the rest of him still striving to hold onto it and continue on to help the world. It was once the example of what was right that urged him to continue, but now it is the mistake of what was wrong propelling him away from it to move back to good.
With the state Arnold is in now, he wishes that it was the example of good that brought him forward.
Space is often said to be infinite, but this statement is only half-true.
The universe sits at a total of 93 billion light-years in diameter, giving it some measure of its size, but even this is only comprehensible by a higher education in the sciences. And this alone is merely one of the few measurements that human beings are able to take, and this, in turn, only goes so far when the universe constantly expands from its humble origins in the Big Bang.
In time, perhaps humankind has the potential and means to measure it in full, and perhaps even explore and traverse all this space, but this is a dream that no human being alive today could possibly survive to see, and the generation that eventually, if ever, does, is somewhere too far down for most lineages to even survive.
Not to mention, human beings are not alone in the universe. There are several other life forms, and not all are friendly.
And to bear in mind the many evils humanity puts upon itself, perhaps the definition of 'friendly' as humans judge it is not the best measurement.
The most notorious of which is the Irken race, a species of beings bearing from the planet Irk. Grown organically in laboratories and given intelligence with a surgically-implanted computer known as a PAK, these creatures have little sense of empathy or love, and instead focus on one single mission:
Conquest.
The empire these creatures have made for themselves has traversed across several planets, harvesting their indigenous life-forms and natural resources for their own needs as any empire would, serving only to feed their war machine to repeat the process across the stars and continue ad infinitum until there exist no more planets left to conquer, leaving only the uniform mastery of the Irkens.
But this one alone may change that dynamic, know it not yet as she does now.
She is Tak, a Defect, an Irken with a PAK that does not conform the same as the rest of the Irken race. This one makes her think differently, allowing for more emotional range and creative thought, both of which she has used to her advantage in service of the Tallest, the heirarchs of the Irken Empire.
Rejected twice by the Empire for circumstances beyond her control, she, flying across the universe in a retrofitted escape pod, makes her return back to Earth, swearing revenge on another Irken who cost her the chance to receive praise from the Tallest, an Irken who is also a defect like herself:
Zim.
Her defective PAK also allows her the capability of obsessive thinking, and that she does greatly on the target of her choice.
"[Zim... Zim... Zimmy-Zim-Zim-Zim-Zim... Zim must die... Zim will pay... Zim shall pay for all he has done... Zim... Zim must pay...]" Tak muttered.
She is not alone in her quest for revenge; along with her at all times is a S.I.R. by the name of MiMi, who, thanks to the defective creative thinking of Tak, has been modified for her purposes. The insane mumblings are not lost upon the robotic assistant, and it voiced its preprogrammed concerns for her master.
"[MASTER. YOU HAVE REPEATED THE NAME OF THE TARGET FOR 5 HOURS. DO YOU REQUIRE ASSISTANCE?]" MiMi asked.
"[Hmm? Huh? What? Oh, uh, no, my faithful MiMi, I'm just keeping myself on track for the task at hand. I've waited many, many years to kill Zim once and for all, and I want to make sure I dedicate all my time on this journey towards completing that goal. I wouldn't ever forgive myself if I were to waste such a beautiful opportunity as this.]" Tak said.
With an invasive programming planted in her head with their last encounter with Zim, MiMi possessed a second personality that showed itself in sporadic moments, given unto her by a defective S.I.R. by the name of GIR. Possessing low intelligence and lower inhibition, GIR is known to be suspect to several moronic outbursts...
...and, with his personality infecting her, MiMi is damned to do the same, as she does now by grabbing Tak's face and pushing her cheeks up to fake a smile.
"[Aw, c'mon, now! Being mean's no fun! Turn that big ol' frown upside down! Just like when I like to turn a turtle upside down and tickle its belly! It's really hard and rocky, just like a mountain! Mountains are so strong and friendly, I just wanna have a big ol' plate of waffles with 'em-]" MiMi rambled.
Annoyed by MiMi's malfunction, Tak has found an easy solution to it nonetheless, solving it by bashing her robot servant on the head.
"[THANK YOU FOR THE CORRECTIVE ADJUSTMENT, MASTER.]" MiMi said.
"[Don't mention it. How much longer until we get to Earth?]" Tak asked.
"[APPROXIMATELY 1.94 EARTH DAYS.]"
"[Good. I will have Zim's head on a platter for the Almighty Tallest, and, then, I shall have Earth as my prize to gift to them, proving my worth as an Invader. Then, I shall know true recognition at last, and achieve their highest honors. And all for the simple cost of doom to a single blue planet.]"
Changing back to the personality of GIR once again, MiMi felt inspired by the mention of a significant word in Tak's speech.
"[Did somebody say 'doom'? That reminds me of the Doom Song! I'm gonna sing it again! Doom, doom, doom-doom, doom, doom-doom-doom, doom, doom, doom, doom, doom...]" MiMi sang.
Not bothering to adjust MiMi again, Tak held her face in her hands, letting out an annoyed groan. She knows that the trip is not much longer towards Earth, and there is no need for a stop, her body having no need for any replenishment as a human's would, but the trip is made all the longer by the ghost of GIR in her companion.
And it only keeps getting longer.
"[Doom, doom-doom, doom, doom, doom, doom-doom, doom, doom-doom, doom-doom-doom, doom, doom...]" MiMi sang.