Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

From: Source unknown
To: Dib Membrane <[email protected]>

Subject: None

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                  <OVERRIDE>

                                              stop

It came back in flashes, subtle at first and grew with each relapse. The pain came in waves, recognition charging through wires and veins until a twitch overtook him. And then nothing. And then- And then- he looked on, over the carnage and debris, blue rays sweeping down from the crafts floating above him, suspended in the twilight sky. Their loud hum blocked all other noise he would otherwise have heard.

The blood on the ground- one boot stepped into a puddle. Familiar repulsion coursed through him- Zim would not approve. Zim relished in the destruction. Zim watched the fires in glee, zipper teeth shining in the face of such damage and screams. But here, he felt nothing save a building regret and an even deeper sense of isolation. Isolation. But he had Zim. And Zim had him. And together, they-

They-

The blood sloshed under his feet as he walked on wobbly, tired legs, every bruise and scratch burning. He stepped over mangled corpses without looking- perhaps they were alive- he wouldn't know. Zim wouldn't care. He stood over the prone boy, his scythe-like hair whipping from the winds above. Cracked glasses stayed over his nose. He checked for breath.

Such a thin, small boy. How could he have thought he stood a chance against the Brains? Against them? Foolish boy. Foolish stinkbeast. He scooped the child into his arms, its thin limbs dangling. And then- then-

Staring at the Dib's broken body, beams of red and blue crisscrossing above them, the last explosions setting off behind, something set in, like a heavy stone within the heart he no longer had. Likewise, a paperweight leaving and the sheaves of pages finally falling out. Magenta eyes stayed fixed on that pale face. His antennae fluttered. And Zim was him again. But he was no longer Zim. And Zim-

There was nothing left but Zim.

For a moment, a snap of a second, he had control. Tenn was screaming for Zim somewhere, calling out to him, imploring, pleading- but he walked on. Was this how Zim felt? So light, so weightless, so- there was no freedom. This pain was his and his alone. And somehow, Zim understood and somehow, Zim felt. And somehow, Zim belonged to him once more.

But he no longer cared. Not anymore. The Dib was heavy. 

"Let's go home."

But where was home? His brain was too muddled to tell if the words had been Dib's or his own. Maybe they were Zim's. But he was Zim. And Zim was him. And together-

They-he-Zim- remembered.

From: Professor Membrane <[email protected]>
To: Sizz Lorr <[email protected]>

re: Subject: Zim

Mr. Lorr:

It is highly irregular for me to PERSONALLY respond to any inquiries. I am a very busy man and there is SCIENCE to be done on an hourly basis. To quell your fears, your nephew has escaped containment but it is unlikely he will survive on his own. The IRK is a VERY FICKLE virus, as I have explained countless times to more inferior minds (such as your own). You need not worry.

Carry on with your life as you would, fellow citizen. I hope this satisfies your inquiry.

Good day,

Professor Membrane
Membrane Inc. Real Science

Chapter Text

Zim yawned for the third time in class, head drooping onto his hands. Miss Bitters was rambling about doom again, and... doom... the boy could only process so much in this state. He imagined a pillow under his head. Sore arms struggled to stay upright, one sour hand unable to keep its grip on the pencil. The meticulous notes he usually took were reduced to scrawl today. He hoped Uncle wouldn't make him work another late shift.

"Hey."

He winced, a recollection of last night popping back in. ("Lazy little worm!" Uncle Sizz had growled, covered in sweat and smelling of grease. "Can't even mop a toilet right!") He absently traced a bruise under his eye ("And too short to man the counter. What are you good for anyway?" Uncle had been drinking again). The plates had been too heavy to carry all at once and he had been scuttling back and forth from the kitchen all night. And mind on homework, he tripped along the way. The frycook looked about ready to murder him ("Uncle, I'm sorry! I'll-" "I told you not to call me that in public! You little-"!). Zim shuddered and winced, trying to shrink in on himself. His homework was a mess and the glare Miss Bitters had been shooting him all day was a constant reminder.

"Hey!"

"AH!" Zim shot upright and then slumped back down. It was just Dib. The scythe of hair practically whipped him in the face. 

"The bell ran five minutes ago. I thought you were possessed or something," Dib said, pulling Zim from the chair.

"Five minutes... it wasn't that long. You're lying."

"Yeah, sure I am." Dib waited while the other boy gathered his books. "Hmm, your face. Did he-"

 "There's nothing wrong with my face. It doesn't hurt at all and I'm completely fine." With that, Zim made his way towards the door, Dib stiffening in the back. It had always been Dib to ask these stupid questions, these stupid annoying questions. 

"Hey, wait up!"

Then again, that wasn't fair to Dib. Zim stopped by the door, literally turning a frown upside down. There was very little in the boy's life that made him happy, and Dib was one of them. Dib, who stuck up for him, even when Torque Smacky could break his nose with once punch. Dib, who distracted him from Uncle's loud scolding with chatter of ghosts and werewolves. Dib Membrane, his best and only friend, the one constant in Zim Lorr's life.

"You're coming over tonight, aren't you?" Dib asked, waving a camcorder in his hands, the duo leaving the school at last, "I've got the radio hooked up and everything. We'll definitely catch some UFOs tonight. Oh man, you think Mysterious Mysteries will beat us to it? I mean, I love that show! But we can't let them take our credit-"

Dib, who talked too much.

"I'll try." And Zim, who talked too little.

"Oh come on, that's what you said last week. Don't tell me you'd rather stay home and read the encyclopedia again."

"Eh heh heh."

"Seriously?"

They rounded a corner, narrowly avoiding a squabble of children squishing over them. Zim ran a hand through his dark hair- the truth was he wasn't sure if Uncle would let him off, not after how he messed up last night. He didn't want another beating or another scolding, or both. And he really would like to run over to the Membranes' (again) with his precious encyclopedia.

"I'll have to ask Uncle."

"I'll go with you. Say my dad wants you there."

"Uncle doesn't like you, Dib. He called you the big-headed crazy boy." And he said you'd have to be insane to want to be my friend.

"Your uncle really stinks."

"He's covered in grease all day."

"You know what I meant."

TARGET: FOCUS

She watched them from the shadows, optical lenses narrowing in the children walking past. Pressing herself further against the wall, she counted the heartbeats- one, one, two, one, two- human, healthy, young. She observed more- scanning, checking.

The first boy had a sharp projection of black hair, round glasses for myopia, and a trenchcoat that made him seem taller than he was. The head was off-balance. He was waving enthusiastically as he spoke to his companion. She absorbed the words ("tonight," "Gasplugh's," "UFO,") before deleting and deeming them useless. The other boy was thinner, his skin a tanner hue, with slicked black hair and weary violet eyes, in a red button-up. She honed in on him.

As the first boy spoke, the second listened, eyes growing more exciting by the second. A spark of hope was inside. It disgusted her.

The small signs of injury she found on him suggested an unhappy domestic life- from the shadowed gait of his walk to the way he clung to the other boy's every word. He looked frail enough. He would be easy to corner. And he would not be missed.

Zim, she mouthed.

TARGET: ACQUIRED 

"Oh great, it's that guy again." Dib sighed, narrowing his eyes at the man they spotted digging through Gasplughs' dumpster. 

"Who is he?" Zim asked. Oh right, Zim hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Bill yet.

"You remember career day?" Zim nodded. "Yeah, Bill was the paranormal investigator they stuck me with. He was a total crackpot, go figure. All he wanted to do was chase balding men in cereal costumes."

"You chased Bigfoot once."

"That was different- that was real."

The boys stopped talking, transfixed by the fervor that the man showed while diving through the trash, the dumpsters wedged between a pawnshop and Gasplughs fast food diner (complete with large neon signs). 

"Hey, Zim. Should you be letting him do this?"

That snapped the other boy out his revelry. Immediately, Zim ran towards the dumpster. "Hey, hey! You! Hey! Hey!"

Bill somersaulted out, landing in a painful position, covered in sandwich wrappers and old grease. He smelled horrible. Both children backed away, ready to cling onto one another for dear life.

"What. Is. It?" the man asked, leering over them, adjusting his shades.

"Uh- uh-" Zim stammered, "you shouldn't be doing that. My uncle-"

"Your uncle will be thanking me when he knows what I've sacrificed!"

"Eh?"

At that, Bill stooped and grabbed Zim by the collar, shaking the boy to and fro. "I can smell it! All the signs- I knew they were in the city, but where, oh where I didn't know- I've tracked, hunted, fought. They're here, so close- and they ate here!"

"Who's they? And let him go!" Dib said, pointing an accusing finger at the 'investigator.'

All that earned was Bill grabbing him by the collar too. "The Irkens! They don't believe me, but they're here, oh they're here alright. What I do is keep them off the streets, so kids like you can keep your organs."

"Irk- what?" Dib asked, flabbergasted.

"Even more dangerous than vampires."

And with that, Bill let the boys tumble to the ground with "oomphs." Casting him one last glare, Dib scurried away after Zim. Yeah, let Mr. Lorr deal with this one. Bill was obviously beyond help. Good thing he wasn't like that.

Once they entered the diner, Dib caught sight of Mr. Lorr- huge, brawny, a scar running through one eye- by the counter, shouting down the neck of a crying teen. Zim ran up to them frantically. "Uncle! There's a man outside, trashing our... trash!"

"About time you got back!" Lorr barked in response, throwing a G hat at Zim. The boy fell backward when it clocked him in the head. "I need you in the kitchen- this isn't Bloaty's!"

With a moan, Zim picked himself up. "Right away, Unc- I mean, boss."

"Hey, Mr. Lorr," Dib found himself saying, coming to stand by Zim, "can Zim come over tonight. My dad-"

Lorr never let him respond. Instead, he left the counter, yanked Dib by the hair and all but threw him out the doors. "NO!" was the man's reply, "can't you see we're busy?"

Well, that settled that. Getting back to his feet, Dib glanced at the diner windows again. From the inside, Zim was waving at him, wearing a standard hat and apron. Dib waved back. They'd have to reschedule.

Zim switched shifts with Deck once the clock signaled eight PM. The teen went into the kitchen, Greg came out to man the counter, and Zim got rid of his greasy goggles to play waiter. Gasplughs only housed eight or nine customers per night, but this week had been particularly busy. Maybe word-of-mouth got the restaurant into good graces, maybe it was the 24/7 quality, or maybe Uncle's coupon books were finally attracting customers.

Luckily, there was no sign of Bill in the diner. If everything was wrapped up by midnight, Uncle would take him home early and hopefully this time, Uncle would let him sit inside the car instead of leaving him to walk. He hadn't messed up at all that night.

"Zim, head to table 9!"

"Yes, boss!"

He recognized the occupant in the booth. His name was Eric, a grubby but nice enough engineer who took his dinner every Tuesday there. Zim ran up to him, ready to scribble down the order.

"Oh hey, Zim. How's school?"

"Fine- we're learning about space. Will you have the usual, Eric?"

At that, the engineer frowned, concentrating and straining to focus. Zim had almost forgotten how slow it took him to order. He was sure Eric would be the reason neither he or Uncle got home before two in the morning. 

"Turkey ham pancake."

"Okay. Would you like a drink with that?"

"Ergghh. Uhhhh."

Zim felt his eye twitch.

"Coffee."

"One coffee with extra cream." He didn't bother asking if that really was what Eric wanted. Time was of the essence. He ran back to the counter and passed the note to Greg. Table twelve was waiting for him.

"Welcome to Gasplughs. My name is Zim and-" the words caught in his mouth when he got to the table. 

There was only one occupant, a girl only one or two inches taller than him, with porcelain skin and long, thick lashes hidden behind purple liner, soft blue hair framing her face lovingly. She was beautiful. And to his embarrassment, Zim almost stuttered.

"You going to take my order?" she asked in a clipped British accent, "or are you going to stand there all day... Zim?"

"I-I'm sorry. What would you like?"

"I don't know. I'm still looking."

"Oh- okay." He stood over her awkwardly.

As her head dipped back to the menu, he glanced at the book sprawled open. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. The pages looked as if she'd opened them many times. 

"That's a good book," he said.

That got her attention. "Yes, it's rather fascinating."

"But it's sad... I think that's what makes it relateable." 

Her gaze softened. "Really, now? That makes sense... a Gasplugh burrito and coke. Start me off with that."

He scribbled it down. "Right away."

"Tak."

"Eh?"

"My name is Tak."

"Tak..." the name rolled so easily off his tongue. "I'll get your order put in right away." 

He hurriedly left to keep her from seeing the blush creeping over his face, and behind him, the girl smiled, a sinister curving to her lips.

Chapter Text

"What do you mean he's not coming over?" Gaz demanded, voice falling into a dangerous growl. Dib stood on the other side of the fridge, gulping as his sister's rarely opened eyes fell on him. He shrugged in an effort to lighten the mood. It didn't work.

Gaz opened the fridge, it's light falling threateningly over her face. She pulled out the plate wrapped in plastic, two triangular slices of pizza in between. "You're telling me I saved these for nothing?!"

"You could always let me have one." He smiled.

"Tch."

"Come on, Gaz- you never save me any pizza. I know you have a crush on Zim but- OW!" Dib rubbed his shin, Gaz having shut the fridge and swung a kick at him before he finished his sentence. She yanked his collar, pulling his face down to her level.

"I. Do. Not. Do. Crushes." She tightened her grip, almost cutting off her sibling's air supply. "Got it, Dib?"

He nodded pathetically. Gaz let go and Dib gasped for air. Her head fell, small feet kicking at the ground. "But it would be nice to see stupid Zim's face and play vampire piggies with him even though he's so bad at it... I guess."

She doesn't do crushes. Sure. Heaven forbid Zim actually start crushing on someone else- Dib wouldn't put it past Gaz to destroy all competition. As morbid as the thought was, it made him laugh. Wrong move. Because he was soon on the ground, choking, Gaz having kicked him again.

Eventually her footsteps faded and Dib regained mobility, the pain dulling to a throb. Groaning, he sat up. Gaz indeed took the pizza for herself. Go figure. But he had other things to do. The plan was to go UFO sighting on his roof with Zim- he even set the whole thing up before leaving for school in the morning. But Mr. Lorr had to go and ruin that effort. Dib went upstairs instead, preparing himself for a boring night; well, there was always homework but it was a waste of time in his opinion.

Once he entered his room, Dib flung himself into his chair and booted up the computer, the large monitor shining bright blue. There was no point in rooftop sighting without Zim. Dib needed a partner to do his paranormal research. Another time. He pulled up a web browser- he'd never admit it but Bill's words nagged at the back of his mind. Part of him wanted to dismiss it as nonsense but another part told him to look into to it.

"The Irk, huh?" he muttered, keying in the words. Several hits popped up, mostly about dictionary definitions. That's no help.

Irk. Tap. Tap. Bill. Tap. Paranormal Investigator. Tap. Danger. Tap. Tap. That should do the trick.

He clicked on the first site that came up- Bill the Detective's site. It was definitely the paranormal investigator picture in the icon. The site itself however ran on a design so outdated it made Dib cringe. Heck, it was angelfire. What year did Bill think it was? Shaking his head, Dib read on- at least the entries were up to date. There were several tabs he clicked through until he found the right category: Irkens.

December XX49

Cold case today. Victim was a girl, age twelve, torn apart from stomach down. Organs missing: stomach, lungs, heart. They believe a bear was responsible. A bear in the city? Don't make me laugh! Met with the family today- mother was cracked. Allowed me access to corpse. Dug it up and saw- yes, I was right all along.

She was eaten alive. This wasn't some organ theft for the black market. No, something much darker is at hand. I've seen it before. I still remember. Funny how old memories show up when you keep them buried for so long. Red eyes. That's what I remember the most. Their eyes are red, the monsters that did this.

I'd recognize those teeth marks. I thought they were gone.

"The heck?" Dib read on, glad he didn't eat any pizza.

January XX50

I was distracted by the marshmallow fairies for a bit but I'm back on the trail now. Hunted down some survivors. Hanna, age 43, below. Scratch marks on her chin- incident when she was 22. Claimed to be abducted by aliens. Aliens are a load of crap, but I think she's onto something here.

Slammed the door in my face. Called the cops on me. Spent the night in jail.

I got the pictures I need. Scanned them- bit of bourbon got on the film. Her aliens had red eyes- tried to open up her guts. Hanna was lucky. But I wondered, why didn't they finish the job?

January XX50

They're not animals. Found another clue today. Where would they go? Where would they strike? Why? Hunger is one reason. But why here and now? Been camping out here for days.

February XX50

So tired. Must sleep. afadfad, Ah. here. Yes.

Josh, age 15, recent victim. Keeps scratching at his neck, like some mutant fungi's growing there. Nasty scar on his shoulder. Orphan- they killed his father, or so he says. Josh's teeth are sharp. Will keep observing.

He wants me to help him.

Dib scrolled through the rest of February and March's entries- they were all one-liners anyway.

April XX50

How could I have been so stupid!? I can't help him now. No one can. Did the best I could- examined my wounds today. Josh attacked but was no match. Keeping him sedated. Sharp teeth. Complains of pain in his stomach.

Holes on his back- they dig into the spine. Complains about the pain there too. But it's the X-ray we took that confuses me; there's a symbol inside, like someone carved into his body. He killed his father and ate the corpse. He told me so.

I'm sorry, Josh.

July XX50

FOR THE LAST TIME, I DID NOT KILL ANYONE! JUST LET ME WORK IN PEACE!

Count Cocofang was up to his old tricks again- it's in my other entry. Well, I put a stop to him again. Josh is gone now. But the symbol is pictured here:

I wonder, what it could mean. Will have to decipher this code somehow. Will visit those UFO crackpots and see if they have tech to use.

July XX50

IRK. That's all it says. Crackpots think it's the name of a planet- ha! Will have to look for higher sources.

More one-liners. Bill was certainly deteriorating in mental state. September made Dib freeze.

September XX50

Professor Membrane returns my call. Insults me. He says the Irk is a virus Membrane Inc. is working on resolving. It causes deterioration of the skin, optical deformity, a complete reworking of the nervous system. He's had to put down five victims already. But where does it come from?

Membrane thinks it's transmitted much like rabies... or aids. It reminds me of vampire bites. VAMPIRE BITES. Yes! That's it!

September XX50

Membrane's blocked me. Who needs him. Cocofang denies responsibility. Symptoms different anyway. The Irk transmitted via bites, but not just any bite. No, vampires wouldn't cut it. The Irk enters the bloodstream at a rapid pace- floods the system on purpose. This isn't just a rabies virus. It's biological warfare.

October XX50

Ran out of coffee today. Rent overdue. Typing from a cardboard box.

Dog bites rampant in city. Cold season. All lies. Cover-ups for the Irk.

October XX50

Nobody believes me. Well, no one believed me about anything else either. But this time it's serious. I have the scratch on my arm to prove it. They smell like copper and sugar- it's not a scent I'd forget. Found it near a dog biting incident. Man eaten by chihuahua. Don't make me laugh.

They pulled out his spine- not a single gut left. They're hunting in packs. Almost caught one- it's short, up to my chest. And green. Scratched me with a claw.

October XX50

They came for me today. I ran away. Almost died. Green, red eyes- they look like giant bugs. The Irkens.

November XX50

They're driving me nuts. But if I don't do something, who will? Tell me, who will?

December XX50

Was hoping to put the Irk behind me, but Irkens attacked again- tore a child apart this time. Thought of Josh and that little girl. Broke into Membrane Inc. files were difficult to hack but I did it.

December XX50

Corrupted H2O and ionized nitrogen. They were injected. Polluted water, I could use. Took a knife to see what I could do.

December XX50

Broke an arm. Killed one- it has antennae, sharp teeth, extending tongue. One tangled mess of organs inside. Looking at it makes me crazy. I almost took a bite. But that would make me just like them.

January XX51

This started back in '49 but it's been going on longer than that. I was a kid when I first saw the red eyes- she was my sister, slaughtered by them right before my eyes. They ate him. I was there. I blamed vampires.

Maybe I was wrong.

January XX51

Cocofang's out of the picture. Just me and the Irkens now. That thing on their spines- it drives them on. Destroy it and the host dies. I don't know who's behind this but I imagine they have more coming up.

February XX51

Swollen Eyeball called. Told me to stop. That raises some brows. Who did they think they were? This was my case.

February XX51

MY CASE!

March XX51

Decades hunting the nosferatu- I don't regret it but maybe if I'd seen the signs sooner. Damn it! Fuck.

Dreams mingling with reality. Or is it a nightmare? can't tell anymore, think of HER a lot- it wasn't a vampire that day, no fangs. Just teeth.

March XX51

Their teeth lock in a perfect pattern. Matches the scar on my arm. they need our flesh to survive

April XX51

hot on their trail again it's a battle of dominance and the human race is losing

Dib frantically scrolled. Bill was getting more and more incoherent, and the descriptions of the Irkens gorier and gorier. The SE were involved? And his dad? Why didn't he know this? Well, Professor Membrane had mentioned something about a flu going around. He felt a little sick. Maybe Bill was off his rocker and all this was a load of bull. But Dib had never been a non-believer.

August XX52

You're all in danger. I found traces of Irken blood- pink, translucent- in the dump behind Gasplugh's and leftover entrails. The Irken pack is back again and they're hiding. We humans are no longer at the top of the food chain. Someone else is. And they cannot be stopped. But I'll fight. I'll fight to the end.

That was the last entry. Dib turned away from the monitor, head spinning. He didn't know what to make of all this. On one hand, it was pretty cool. On the other, was he really just going to sit back and do nothing while Bill's Irkens destroyed the city?

Tak. Her name was Tak. Zim thought about her day in and day out, taking little to no note of Dib's newfound squirming. The other boy always seemed to be on the verge of saying something before fidgeting and changing the subject so Bigfoot or their part yeti classmate. But that didn't quite bother Zim. Tak had been coming to the diner every night for the past few days, a new book in her arms.

He didn't think of himself as much to look at, though he suspected she was shooting him as many glances as he shot her. Tak, on the other hand, really was something to look at. Not only was she picturesque, she was intelligent, in a way that made Zim fumble and trip over every word. She talked to him in a way no one else could, not even Dib- for all his subjects, Dib was never one to discuss literature.

Does this mean we're clicking?

Tak had said she recently moved to the city with her father. He was never around. She looked so sad when she said it. He had told her no one was around him either so maybe they could be around for each other.

"Your parents are busy as well?"

"Well, they're a little... uh, dead... but it's okay. I live with Uncle now- he owns this place- and, uh, yeah, it's okay."

She seemed interested in his statement, a little too interested. But Zim shrugged it off. Still, she had told him she'd like his company. She liked talking about books with him and sharing little anecdotes. She liked him. Well, he liked her too. Just thinking about it made him blush.

She didn't go to the skool and she usually spent her days at home. Tak was a little odd, maybe, but so was he. She had a cat at home named Mimi- that was a nice name. And she said he was the first friend she'd made.

"I don't have an easy time making friends."

"Me too!"

And then quite unexpectedly, she'd asked him if he'd like to meet outside the diner. A quiet place where the two of them could speak in peace. He'd made up some excuse and said he would consider for the weekend.

"Dib-"

"Zim-"

Both boys paused awkwardly in their desks, Ms. Bitters scrawling away on the chalkboard. Zim flushed and Dib fidgeted.

"You first," he said.

Dib shook his head. "You go ahead, Zim. I never let you talk first."

"Oh... okay." He lowered his voice, staring up at Dib hopefully. "I met someone."

That took Dib aback. The boy sucked in a breath of shock before replacing it with mirth. "A girl?" Zim nodded. Dib nudged him. "What's she like?"

"She's pretty. Really pretty, and uh," Zim said a little too quickly, starting to stammer, "she likes books. She's new, our age- she's been coming the diner for a while now and I think we get along..."

"Man, Gaz is gonna go nuts."

"Eh?"

"Nothing, I meant, you picking up girls is nuts, heh."

Zim nudged him back. "Actually, she picked me up."

He blushed harder as Dib laughed, a few other kids turning their way. Zim shushed him. "Don't laugh at me. Really! She asked me out, to somewhere quiet, but I don' really think I should, that is-"

"Go for it. It'll be our secret." Dib winked. "Zimmy's first date. Man, this should go on mysterious mysteries!"

"Dib!" he growled.

"Okay, sorry." But the laughter was in his eyes. Zim glared at him. "So what did you want to say?"

"Oh, right, it felt a little awkward last week. Remember when we found Bill in your uncle's dumpster? I did some research and maybe he's not so crazy. Those Irken things he's talking about, they're closer than we think. I think they feed on flesh or something. My dad has something to do with this, maybe, and your uncle-"

Zim didn't pay attention to the rest. It sounded a little too contrived, even for Dib. His mind was still swimming with thoughts about Tak, Dib's voice ringing in his ears: go for it. Both he and Dib were interrupted when Chunk passed by their seats, taking the time to slam both their heads on the desks.

When he met Tak again that night, he held his nerves back and said quite firmly, "The library. Meet me at the library." The look of pure joy in her eyes was well worth it.

"Toilet's clogged again," Uncle Sizz grumbled from the sofa, lids drooping. The cramped living room wad dark save for the light of the half-mute television. From his spot at the kitchen table, Zim glanced at the man- the news was absently flashing by them, something about rabid dog attacks. He'd never liked dogs.

"I'll take care of it, uncle."

"You better, worthless brat."

Zim went back to writing his essay, a report on the destruction of joy. It hadn't been hard. He supposed he was happy(?) once, a long time ago- it only came in mild joys now, mostly thanks to Dib. And his books. And now Tak. He blushed, glad Uncle couldn't see. But there had been a time when joy was a constant, or at least that was what he was writing.

His mother loved to sing, he remembered that. She wasn't good at it but she got them all to sing along. Uncle still kept a photo of her in their squalid apartment, one of his huge body and her thin one hugging- Uncle never sang now. And his father was... funny- Zim didn't think he meant to be funny- come to think of it, the man wasn't right in the head, not since he lost his arm according to his mother. But he did remember the words, "I love you son."

He remembered a white picket fence and a clean, clean home. He looked down at the sticky carpet and the stains on the walls. His parents' home wasn't like this. Here, he was only a freeloader. There, at least he belonged. Or did he? It was some years ago. Uncle had called him a little waste of space, a worthless brat, a spineless worm that caused trouble wherever he went. Maybe it was the same for his parents- his father was already taking a toll on his mother's mental health and Zim had just been another wasteful burden in her life.

Guilt destroyed joy, he wrote. His parents had been saddled with him and now Uncle was. But he was too scared to up and leave- too scared of leaving everything he knew. He was too selfish for that.

Maybe if he hadn't been in the back seat that day, they would have lived. He came out without a scratch and they had died in a mess of fire; maybe he caused the fire. He could never be sure now. But why would he? He loved them, didn't he? Or maybe he never did, just more proof of what a horrible, wasteful, hateful thing he was. The lead broke. The last sentence was done anyway.

They would have been better off without me.

Thinking about them used to bring joy. It didn't anymore. He had a toilet to clean- at least in the bathroom, he could be of some use to something.

August XX52

Frycook beat me up today. if only he knew. there was bone in the dumpster- human bone. And that sweet scent- i'd know it anywhere. irken.

They're so close. Snuck into Gasplugh's after the staff left- went into the kitchen first. The plates were dry, cleaned, but the scent's on them. An Irken was here and it was inside, right under their noses. It makes me sick.

Let's pray I find it before they do.

Mysterious Mysteries was on and Dib had been too busy catching up on the vampire doughnut re-run to go look at his computer. Bill's site updated that night.

One of Zim's fantasies was visiting an old-time library, one with colorful books on display and little wooden tables to hide behind. But that was a time dead and gone. The local library was a metallic archive of discs and black bound books carefully lined in steel rows and glass cases. The only thing it had in common with his imagination was the silence.

"Shush. OR ELSE," was printed in bold letters on the sign above the librarian's head.

The fluorescent lights temporarily disoriented him when he entered the library. He adjusted soon enough and walked past the dozing librarian, hands in his pockets. There were only a few other occupants- it was late, almost eleven at night. A pimply college student was by himself in the corner, snickering at a screen. There was a sour faced teen filtering through discs on the other side, and another group of bespectacled students chatting in whispers in the center table.

He wasn't sure if Tak was still there. If she was, he needed to apologize. Pronto.

He finally found her between two rows, idly flipping through discs. Her back was turned to him and all he could see was black. There was something sharp about the shadows falling on her. When she turned her head, he could have sworn a line of red flashed past her eyes.

"Tak?" he said meekly.

"About time," she quipped, coming to meet him in the open.

She didn't look mad. That was good. He grinned nervously. "I'm really sorry I was so late. I should have asked for your number- then we could cancel- my uncle needed me to do some chores and it took longer than-"

She cut him off with a wave of the hand. "What are you, your uncle's slave monkey?"

He laughed. "No, I mean, I don't know. Uncle's not so bad- he took me in and helping out's the least I can do. I'm in a lot debt already and-"

This was embarrassing. Not even Dib could get him to talk this much. Tak put a finger on his lips and smirked when he stopped speaking.

"It's alright. I forgive you. Now come on, I want to show you something."

"You were exploring?"

"You could call it that."

She gave him a devious look, those painted eyes beckoning him to follow. I like you, Zim, do you like me? She held out her hand and he eagerly took it. I do, Tak, I do very much. Hand-in-hand, they made their way past the library's corridors, alternating shadows and artificial light falling on their path. Along the way, the pimply student shot them a glare, likely angry that a child younger than him had scored a date.

They stopped at the very end of the library's labyrinth of rows, seemingly miles away from the rest of the visitors. It was also the most dimly lit area with outdated discs in the anthropology department. Zim didn't see what was so special about this save a lack of light, but he wouldn't say that to Tak. Especially since she looked so excited.

"It's cool," he said instead.

And then Tak's hands were on him, surprisingly cold fingers brushing against his neck. In the dark, her soft skin almost looked like leather. Her mouth tickled his face and came to rest by his ear. "You smell so good, Zim."

"So do you," he whispered, frozen by her presence. His heart was pounding a little too hard. Something was off, very off, and a guilty part of him admitted to liking this contact. Her hair was on his face, but he felt nothing. Something was off, but-

She chuckled lightly before closing her mouth over his. He didn't know what to do except to lean into the kiss. Tak was gripping him hard. He felt nails dig into his arms, plunging in- the fabric tore. With a yelp, he pulled away, backing himself painfully into the steel wall. He looked at his sleeves in shock, the material ripped where she had made contact, and red claw marks on his skin.

"Does it hurt, Zim?"

His gaze went back to her, heart still pounding. "What-" She never let him finish. In an instant, a metal extension sprung from her backpack and shot straight at the boy, breaking through his right shoulder and pinning him to the wall. She retracted it as soon as it came out and Zim heard the sickening shlooping sound of metal leaving his shoulder. Too stunned to speak, he could only shiver at her feet, having slid onto the ground, a trail of red leading from his shoulder to the wall.

Tak stood over him, grinning manically, sharply. Was it the blood loss? Had she always looked so- so green? In a flicker, the image was gone and Zim was left staring at a creature with bulging violet eyes and curled feelers. Her gloved claws were poised at him.

"What's going on?" he said, scrambling to a sitting position, the pain not yet setting in. "Tak?" His voice sounded hoarse, lost, completely terrified.

"Be a good little human and let me do my job," she taunted, "you won't be missed, you know. You think that brute of a manager will miss you? Don't make me laugh!"

It hurt. The pain was unbearable and it was all he could do to keep from screaming- his arm was on fire. Or was it the shoulder? He rolled aside, the red droplets everywhere. Zim tried to run, legs failing him- another one of her metal appendages hooked on to the back of his collar, narrowly scraping his neck and he was thrust into the nearest shelf of discs. They crashed together. She grabbed him again and he was slammed into another row, a burst of pain exploding near his head- he felt it, warm, blood. It glistened in the dark, bits of light finding their way towards him.

He had to get away from her somehow. Nothing made sense. He didn't care if this was real, if that was Tak or not, he just needed to run. The boy tried to crawl away, movements too sluggish to escape her. All his life he'd never been able to escape danger- only once when he shouldn't have- and now- his thoughts were overlapping from panic. Now-

Tak was laughing, now propped on eight metal legs, spiderlike as they sliced down. He did scream this time, the steel cutting through the skin of his limbs. Two embedded themselves in his shoulders, the blood gushing forth, and another sliced at his chest, forming a gash that tore straight through his shirt and opened the chest to the torso. He couldn't scream- he only gurgled, feeling the iron rise up in his throat, the blood trailing from his nose. So much blood- he should be passing out-

He couldn't feel his limbs, couldn't even process what was happening-

He only knew Tak was laughing. Her claws ripped at his broken skin and the fire of his nerves increased tenfold. Someone shrieked and sobbed- maybe it had been him. Dark and light. Red and black. Purple and green. The pain scorched at him, gnawed at him, consumed and paralyzed him so completely he was sure he had died.

Tak was feeding on him- he saw his own blood smeared over her lips and dribbling from her chin. One gloved hand was wrist deep within his ruined body and the other was holding a line of entrails that tugged at his near-corpse. She was chewing on them. And under all that surreal pain, he felt her grip on his heart, palms feeling the dimming pounds- he was losing feeling, losing thought, losing breath-

A blast of blue and light. Smoke. Someone screamed.

Tak's laughs turned to screeches.

"Kid! You okay- shit, you are not okay!"

Blurred shadows around him.

"Hang in there, kid!"

Nothing.