Irony Is A Fucked Up Mistress | By : RuShin Category: Comics > Johnny the Homicidal Maniac Views: 1607 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Chapter Eight - Memory Lane
The car ride had NOT been pleasant or kind to his battered body. He knew that Dib had tried his best to keep from hitting the pot holes, but he was still irritable about it as Dib carried him into the apartment.
Zim had been with Dib “officially” (He wouldn’t count the years they had spent trying to defeat each other.) for ten years now. Five of those years had been spent traveling the world solving various supernatural mysteries. It’s hard to keep up a house when you’re away so much. Thus, an apartment it was.
He watched G.I.R. run past squealing as he made his piggy fly through the air. He rubbed at his temple as his headache worsened. “Set Zim on the couch.” He was too agitated and worn out to worry with saying “please.”
Dib did as he was told, too worried over the little alien to argue. This was the first opponent to do this much damage to Zim. Whoever this man was, he was now their top suspect in the Boogie Woogie Wu case. The only thing that still confused Dib was that, according to the blood splatters in the children’s’ bedrooms, there were at least two murders. Zim had mentioned seeing another person with their suspect, but he had seen nothing. Was the other invisible? Did he truly exist? Spending his entire life studying the supernatural made an undetectable being seem not too farfetched.
He winced as he was placed on the couch. “Zim is weakened from within his Pak…” He sat quietly for a moment, peering up at Dib. He caressed the human’s cheek, thumb sliding over the smooth skin of Dib’s scar. He sighed. He needed to remove the metal appendage or it might never heal. If he didn’t heal, he would grow weaker and be more likely to catch some sort of awful human infection. So removal was best. He would simply make a new one later.
“Dib-beast. I need you to remove my mechanical arm. Zim shall lie down and you shall pull it free with your hands at the bas of the Pak.” His crimson eyes were dark with the knowledge of how painful this would be. “Once you’ve done so, you will need to stem the flow of blood and oil with a cloth until it clots. It should clot quickly that close to my main health drive.” He studied his human’s face contemplatively. “Can you do that for Zim?” He knew that Dib would help him in whatever way, but he also knew that all humans had their limits. Was causing him torturous pain one of the Dib-human’s limits?
Dib held his breath, his emotions completely apparent on his face. He was worried, terrified, and nervous. He knew that he had to do this no matter how bad it would hurt Zim, because if he didn’t, Zim could die. It reminded him horribly of ten years ago, when he first realized that this Irken outcast belonged to him and no one else. He nodded his understanding, “Yes, I’ll do anything you ask, but --” He swallowed in an attempt to relieve the lump that was in his throat. “—you. Will you be okay?”
He smiled, pulling Dib down and snagging a kiss before answering. He would answer honestly. They had established a long time ago that they shouldn’t lie to one another. Even to spare their feelings. It never ended up well. “It will hurt. And Zim might die anyway.” He flicked his tongue over the other’s lips. “But yes. Zim will be okay. Zim is not afraid.”
He pulled away and lay flat on his stomach on the pink couch. He buried his face into the arm of the sofa, his hands gripping the worn material tightly. He slowly retracted the aching limb from his Pak. He took a deep breath and muttered into the couch arm, his voice muffled. “Whenever you are ready, Dib-pet.”
Unshed tears were blurring his vision. This was going to hurt him just as much as it was Zim. He grabbed the feeble appendage, gripping it tightly. He took a deep breath, placing his other hand on the Irken’s Pak for leverage. “On the count of three. Ready?” He didn’t give Zim a chance to reply. Dib felt the wires and metal tearing under his hold on the limb. The unexpected maneuver was a common thing. Whenever Zim needed some sort of assistance like this, Dib would always make sure the painful part came without warning. It made the process less painful…plus he found the alien’s irritated complaints amusing. It hurt him more now, to think that there was a possibility that he wouldn’t have the chance to hear them again. The arm finally snapped free from the Pak, making Dib stumble back a ways.
He took a breath to say “ready” but released it quickly in a throat tearing scream. His whole body tensed as the appendage was torn away. He felt every fiber tear, and heard the wires snap like something fleshy. He bit into the couch arm to fight from screaming as there was one last rip and Dib went stumbling.
His body began to spasm from shock, and his teeth tore away a chunk of the couch arm as he screamed once more, writhing in unprecedented pain. He fell limp, his Pak spilling forth that blue oily blood substance with every beat of his frantic heart. His breath came in uneven gasps and he looked towards Dib with a small smile as the world faded to black.
Dib stared at the unconscious body on the couch, his breath heavy. Tears finally rolling down his cheeks, Dib couldn’t move. That scream was sickening and it hurt him to think he had caused it. A light blue liquid began oozing from the Pak. This snapped Dib back into reality. If he just stood there, Zim would definitely die. He rushed over and ripped a large piece of material from Zim’s previously-torn skirt and stopped the vast bleeding.
When he finally felt secure enough to leave his companion's side, he rushed into the other room where he kept somewhat of an "Irken First Aid kit." Zim was always getting into trouble. It was only logical to have one around. Dib returned and patched up the wound inside the Pak, his thoughts trailing back to the beginning, when he finally realized why he wanted to reveal Zim to the world...and what he had to go through to keep the Irken for himself.
Ten Years Ago...
Dib arrived home one cloudy evening, tired and mentally exhausted from the tedious end-of-the-year exams. It was his last day as a middle-school student and next year would be the hideous experience of high school. He could care less. General education was just another task to accomplish before he could move on to more important studies: Paranormal Investigation.
Reaching his room and stretching out lazily on his bed, Dib picked up a small stack of papers from his desk and read through them for what could be the millionth time. They were proposals. Theories on how both humans and Irkens could live in co-existence if ever such a chance arose. Five years ago, he wouldn't even consider such an idea, what with Zim always trying to take over the world and being Dib's mortal enemy and all. But as of recently, Zim and Dib's hatred for each other was changing, evolving more or less.
They would even eat lunch together at school, discussing Zim's newest plans to enslave the humans and how it could or couldn't work. Dib even surprised the alien one day by coming up with a world-conquering scheme himself. He even analyzed all the possible things that could go wrong and how to avoid such flaws in the process, but Zim refused to use something a "filthy Earth-monkey" conspired. Dib often wondered if the Irken truly meant that or if he had just given up hope.
Dib was only twelve when he intercepted one of Zim's transmissions from the Irken leaders, the Almighty Tallests, who so unsympathetically revealed the truth behind Zim's mission. It was an exile in disguise, but Zim was too caught up in his own aspirations to notice. Since then, the Irken outcast became less and less enthusiastic about Earth's destruction. He seemed almost depressed, except for when putting up a grand performance for Dib, making it appear as usual and that he would one day be a pet to Zim like one of their disgusting dog-monsters. Considering Zim's poor acting skills, Dib caught on to the lie pretty quickly. They began to make a twisted form of a friendship.
Dib often fantasized about one day officially befriending Zim and being able to travel the world with each other, maybe even the universe. No more disguises. No more lies or deception. Just two friends having the time of their lives. Maybe go drink space sodas or ride giant alien bunnies. Who knows?
His thoughts traveled back to the documents in his hand. They had every possible solution to every possible dilemma. He had gotten all the information he needed from hacking into Zim's computer. Since the Irkens were a war faring race and would probably disincline any request of unity, Dib had devised a system of protection for Earth. As for Zim, Dib would find a way to keep him safe, out of the clutches of some scientists who would want to dissect him or experiment on him. If he had to, he would take full responsibility for Zim. He had been doing it for that past four years since the alien's arrival. What would be the difference...besides Dib being recognized for a great discovery and getting full bragging rights towards all those who doubted him.
Dib looked out his window and sighed. It had started to rain, lightning illuminating the sky and clouds. Zim hates water, he thought.
The sudden storm had Zim in a wretched mood as he watched his faithful, if stupid, S.I.R. unit scurry around the living room, putting on a yellow rain jacket and hat over his doggy costume. “Where do you think you’re going, GIR?” He snapped from his sprawled position on the couch.
The dysfunctional robot just smiled that happy, stupid smile as he put on some rain boots. “Imma go play in da mud wit da piggehs!”
Zim growled under his breath. “I am your Master, GIR!” He shook his fist at the robot, never bothering to stand up.“You must ask ZIM before you can go out and play in the horrible” He shuddered. “Sky juices with your filthy swine-friends!”
GIR stuck his tongue out in confusion before he brightened up. “D’awwww! Does Masta wanna play in da mud wit me and da piggehs?” He then proceeded to latch onto the aliens extended hand and drag him off the couch and towards the door.
“No, GIR!” He started struggling with the little robot. “Release ZIM at once!” He dug his heels into the carpet and flung G.I.R. towards the door, wincing at the high pitched “wheee!” the retrieval unit emitted. “Go GIR, go play with your little friends and leave Zim alone!” He stormed off into the kitchen; at least the sound of the rain wasn’t as prominent there.
He sagged into a chair, lying his head on the smooth top of the table. He stared out the window above the sink, watching the rain pour down. He found it hard to work on days like today. What was the point anyway? He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, antennae lying flat against his head.
He found his thoughts wandering, as they often did when he was attempting to escape self-pity. Zim did not pity anyone! Least of all himself.
Gir seemed happy with his many friends. The Gaz-monster seemed content with her tiny group of scary people. Perhaps Zim should make a friend of his own…not to appear more human, he had been amongst the dirt-monkeys long enough that his humanity act was perfect! (A certain bespectacled boy would disagree.) But to tame down this…loneliness he was feeling. He had been away from his own people for so long. He missed having someone intelligent to talk with.
The human had been rather friendly with them during there semi-truce this past year…maybe they could be real friends? He groaned, banging his head a couple of times against the wooden table. What was he thinking? An Irken and a human, friends? Pah…ridiculous.
His antennae pricked forward at a small sound and he rolled to the floor just in time to avoid being bludgeoned by a baton wielding man in a uniform. His eyes flicked towards the doorway where a small army of men stood armed and ready for a fight.
He cursed under his breath, a bad habit he had picked up from his seemingly permanent stay on Earth. Gir must have left the door open again! Only he had let in much more dangerous people than that hobo mime.
He watched as the uniformed men marched towards him like a well oiled machine. What should he do? Why were they here? What did they want?
A man towards the front seemed to have read his thoughts as he spoke, his voice authoritive and deep. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, alien scum. Come quietly and let the nice scientist run their experiments.”
Ah, so that’s what it was all about. So then, the question of the hour was how did they realize, after all these years, that he was an alien?
He dodged a net that they threw at him, rolling beneath the table and retrieving the laser gun he kept hidden there. It was covered with dust from non-use; he blew on it and took aim, shooting a man in the back in the shin. The man fell with a scream, blood pooling on the odd tiled floor.
He smirked maliciously up at the man in charge from his crouched position under the table. “So sorry, Stink-man, but Zim doesn’t do quiet.”
The man’s eyes narrowed behind the ever-so-concealing helmet and goggles of his uniform. “So be it, little man.”
Zim’s own eyes narrowed at that. He had hit his second growth spurt just that year and was now one of the tallers of his society, whether they considered him a part of that society or not. He was still painfully short compared to the human’s height, but he was proud of his new found tallness, thank you very much.
He scrambled back, narrowly avoiding a spray of bullets. A machine gun? Zim’s eyes widened, they had come prepared. He stood and kicked the table into the oncoming men, his superior strength sending it flying and taking out two or three of them, but he knew that they’d be rejoining the fight soon enough.
He didn’t bother with aiming as he shot at the men, his antennae picking up the squelching sound of ripping and burning flesh, followed by screams of the fallen. He grinned as he took cover behind the fridge, knocking it onto its side. He loved the thrill of warfare! He’d worry about the repercussions later.
He took a few well aimed shots, taking out each target before his gun died in his hands. He beat on it, trying to get its power core to start up again. Shit! He should have been taking care of it all these years.
He tossed it aside, with drawing out his spider legs and lunging over the men that were nearly on him. He needed to find another weapon and fast! He had let himself fall into a false sense of security, and had stopped supplying his Pak with weaponry. In their place, he had added extra information stores. A lot of good those did him now.
He scurried through the doorway into the living room. If only he could make it down to his labs with out them seeing him! He couldn’t risk them following him into the base’s depths and discovering his research.
His face met carpet as several someones tackled his spider legs. He struggled, retracting his mechanical limbs in an attempt to get loose from their gasp. He found his lithe frame pinned beneath several men and the next moment the beating began.
The world was made of brilliant flashes of white and black, his face and ribs throbbing in pain.
“He bleeds blue!” One man said, though the voice sounded too far away.
“Stop, he’s not struggling anymore.” The Man-In-Charge, said. “The Scientists will be pissed if we damage their goods too much.” His voice held a hint of bitter humor, though Zim was finding it hard to focus.
He opened his eyes, wondering when he had closed them, and looked straight into the piercing gaze of The-Man-In-Charge. “Does it hurt?” He asked, though Zim was pretty sure he didn’t give two shits about his well being. He spit blood into the man’s face.
The man wiped it away with a growl, before smiling wickedly. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He leaned in close, and the look in his eyes made Zim consider spitting on him again. “Your pain is about to get a lot worse, little man.”
Zim watched him confusedly as he was pulled from the floor, to weak to struggle.
“Move out, men!” The-Man-In-Charge ordered. They were almost out the door as he heard him talking into a walkman. “Subject acquired, Sir. Now, let’s see if the rest of Agent Mothman’s information is correct.”
Zim felt his eyes widen as the man caught his gaze and smiled cruelly. He had enough time to wonder, Was this the Dib’s traitorous plan all along?, before water hit his skin like hot acid, eating away at his flesh. He had forgotten it was raining.
His screams carried high pitched and frantic in the afternoon air before they faded to nothing and he was lost in peaceful darkness.
A continuous beeping sound echoed through his room, waking Dib from his slumber. He sat up in his bed, and looked around for the source of the noise. He must have dosed off. The beeping was coming from one of his communication screens. It hovered over to him and allowed the transmission to come though.
"Hello, son! How was school today?" Professor Membrane asked enthusiastically from the other end of the floating view screen.
"Fine," Dib yawned, then met his father's gaze with a suspicious look. "Why are you in such a good mood? You hardly ever ask me about school."
Membrane beamed from behind his over-sized goggles, "Ha ha! You got me there! I've just called to congratulate you on your discovery! Very impressive! I should have listened to you more often!"
Dib stared at his father in confusion, "Discovery? What are you --?"
"And all these years, I thought you were insane! I'm sorry to have ever doubted you," Membrane interrupted. "To think, other life really exists beyond our planet!"
"Other life? You don't mean --" Sudden realization struck him like lightning, and his gaze shot to the end of his desk. The large briefcase was missing. Ever since Zim's appearance, Dib had gathered information on the Irken, hoping someone would recognize his discovery, and stored it in the black, leather briefcase. Years of information were in that briefcase! Everything anyone would need to know about Zim, his minions, and his base.
He always left it on the edge of his desk in hopes that he would be able to present it, or someone would find it and read through the notes. No one had even touched it. He had stopped supplying it with information just last year. What was the point if Zim wasn't a threat anymore? He rather liked what he had with the alien. But now...it was gone. Someone had found it and gone through it, and now Zim was in the hands of some careless scientists.
Dib shot out of bed and faced the communicator, enraged at the thought of what tortures they were putting Zim through. "Where is he?!" Dib shouted angrily.
"The alien? He's here at the lab," Membrane answered, totally oblivious to his son's yelling. "They're about to start the autopsy any minute! Isn't that exciting? I'll bet they name the video after you!"
He felt his stomach clench at Membrane's words. All rational thought had escaped him. The few seconds of silence seemed like an eternity. Autopsy...
"AUTOPSY?!" Dib screamed irately, eyes wide with horror. "Where's the lab?! You get me there right now!!"
"Aw! Wanting to see it first hand, huh? Alright! You can use the teleportation device in the basement! It leads directly here! Ground floor, I think!"
Not even waiting for his father to finish, Dib wasted no time in hurrying down stairs. Quickly he pushed through all the junk blocking the basement door and leapt over the rest that was scattered across his path, until he reached the teleporter. He studied it for a moment, having never used such a device before...Well, except for that time when he used a similar device to reach Zim's other base just within Earth's orbit...Zim...He had to save him. Pushing a series of buttons, Dib jumped inside and shut the door, letting the energy pulse through and carry him away.
The bright florescent lights were blinding, as Dib stumbled out of the teleporter. Letting his eyes adjust, he scanned the room quickly for any sign of someone who could help. A group of scientists passed by, buzzing amongst themselves. Dib, driven by pure fury, grabbed one of the scientists who was lagging behind the rest, and roughly pinned him to the wall. He was a short, portly man, slightly balding, and wearing thick black glasses. It didn't amaze the teen at how easy it was to push him around. The others didn't even notice as they continued on to their destination.
"Where are they keeping the alien? Tell me!" he demanded, slamming the scientist against the wall again.
"T-two floors down," he stuttered nervously. "They're st-starting the autopsy any m-minute now."
Terror burned through Dib yet again, as he threw the man aside like a rag doll and hurried off to find the nearest elevator.
Zim came back to awareness almost as suddenly as he had left it. Bright florescent lights blinded his sensitive eyes and he turned his face to the side. The world swam and he swallowed the bile that threatened to escape his stomach, groaning.
A tall figure in medical scrubs and a mask appeared next to him. “Ah, good. The subject is awake.”
“S’ Zim…” He muttered hoarsely. He felt so heavy, as if his body was made of lead and his senses felt foggy.
The man studied him intently, marking something on a piece of paper. He then turned to someone and said, “The drugs seem to be effective and his body hasn’t rejected it from his bloodstream. We can start the procedure now.”
Zim tried to lift his head to peer at the person the man spoke too, but his body wasn’t cooperating. “S’happening…?” He asked groggily to no one in particular.
The man glanced back down at him, “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up before we began the autopsy. We need you fully aware of what’s happening so that we can monitor your status correctly.”
Autopsy? His blood ran cold and the events back at his base flooded back to him. They had mentioned Dib’s Swollen Eyeballs alias. He felt something in his chest clench tightly and he closed his eyes. So this was the Dib-beast’s doing. He should have never started being friendly with that human. He should have destroyed this pitiful planet while he had the chance, but he had let his emotions get the better of him, and had given up on his mission.
A sharp pain began at his lower ribs, ending just below his navel and he gasped, body tensing.
“Did you feel that?” The man in the scrubs asked him, blood covering his scalpel.
Zim’s eyes filled with unshed tears and he hissed, “Cours’ I did.”
The man looked away, muttering a “good” before he began the next incision.
Zim breathed out slowly, raggedly as he forced his body to relax. What did it matter if they cut him up anyway? What did it matter that he had given up on his mission? It wasn’t a real mission anyway, no matter what he told himself. All that was left for him was to survive, and even that didn’t seem so appealing anymore.
He didn’t even blame Dib for betraying him. At least the human hadn’t given up on himself.
It was his fault anyway. He was stupid, useless. A tear slid past his closed lids. It was better to die this way, being captured after battle. At least he would go out like the soldier he was programmed to be…
Authors Notes:
PHEW BOY! This was a little bit of a long chapter. But I suppose that’s good since the last two were pretty short.
Ahahaha…Yes, I know. It’s very evil to just leave you hanging there. But, we haven’t finished up the next bit, and Bugg and I will be away from all internet access for the next two weeks. D8 BUT! We’re going to be writing like mad while we’re away! SO, we’ll have plenty to update with when I get back home. 8D We MAY be able to update by next Monday. But don't get your hopes up.
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