Chapter Text
To be honest, this is probably the one outcome nobody expected.
I mean, anything else could’ve gone down – this is the timeline where there’s a giant, sentient Santa Claus suit in space gathering strength until he can attack the Earth again, after all. This is the timeline with vast alien empires and small but determined alien resistances, the timeline with sentient robot children, the timeline with aliens throwing planets into their sun to “help it,” the timeline where the only thing standing between the dumb-as-all-hell masses of humanity and total destruction is a twelve-year-old conspiracy theorist. As far as timelines go, this is the equivalent of God’s abandoned Animal Crossing town.
But this? Nobody expected this.
I mean, after all, the Resisty is pretty much a non-threat – well, it was supposed to be. Barely any of the Irken Empire’s countless victims had the courage to join them, and most of their victories were won by sheer dumb luck. But dumb luck or not, victories are victories, and it’s proving itself to be a genuine threat.
Or, at least, that’s what Zim heard, after the Tallest released a video announcement to all Irkens they could contact: We are aborting our mission for the time being. All invaders are to return to the Massive as soon as possible. This is not a drill. The Resisty (the name met with some thinly-veiled laughter from Purple) has captured Irk and vowed to search all of space to find Irken invaders. Every one they find will be either killed or kept as a war prisoner. I have no idea why they told us this. If you do not return, we can offer you no protection. This is not a drill.
There’s a long, long silence after the screen shuts off, broken by a single, yet understandable, “Fuck!”
“Language, GIR,” mutters Zim, seemingly broken out of his trance. “How could this have happened? Why hasn’t Zim ever heard of this ‘Resisty’ and how were they able to capture Irk? Is this some sort of joke? . . . No, of course not, the Tallest would never joke about something like this . . .”
“Does this mean we’re gonna have to leave?” asks GIR, a slight whine in his voice. He’d only been among Irken society for a couple of minutes; Earth is his home.
“I mean . . .” His voice trails off as the full extent of what his leaders said fully sets in. “I suppose so. But our mission! Earth! Everything we’ve worked for! I’d just given that platypus a taste for human blood! The Tallest are gonna kill me if I give up now.”
“But they’re the ones who ordered you to come back.”
“Oh. You’re right. Well, I guess we’d better get packing!”
GIR tugs at Zim’s tunic and looks up at him, tears welling in his ocular lenses. “But we gotta say goodbye to everyone!”
“Like who?”
“I dunno . . . Dib ‘n Gaz ‘n everybody.”
“Pft! If you really think I’d waste my time saying goodbye to those stupid human worm babies, then you’d–” He’s interrupted by a loud, high-pitched wail as the robot flops down onto his stomach and begins pounding the floor, sobbing. “Oh no – uh – I – don’t – you don’t need to . . . tears?”
He perks up. “Thanks, Master! You always know just what to say!”
“Zim knows. But anyways, I’m still not–” The wailing returns in full force. “FINE! FINE, WE WILL! Alright?”
GIR cheers and gives him a bone-crushing hug that nearly breaks his PAK into a million pieces and kills him on the spot. “I’m goin’ to their house!” he says, and before Zim can do anything to stop him, he flies out through the ceiling, shattering it, but I guess it doesn’t matter now that they’re about to leave.
The Irken sighs and takes the elevator back to the main level, sitting on the kitchen table with a paper and pencil in front of him, unsure of how to write a letter – not just in this situation, he doesn’t know how to write in general. He can’t fucking read. English is a difficult language. He tries, though. He always does.
~
Zim isn’t in Skool today, which bodes terribly for Dib. Either he’s planning something or he’s facing a bigger threat that also wants humanity gone.
It’s honestly a bit boring without his rival, but not in a bad way, you know? He’s had to stop him from destroying the world for so long, he’s almost forgotten what it means to be a normal kid again. Still, though, the horrible mundaneness of Ms. Bitters’s pessimistic lectures and the bullying of his peers isn’t something he’s that keen on revisiting.
He’s getting his backpack out of his locker at the end of the day when he sees it – a single magenta envelope stuck in the vent. On the front, it says TO: THE DIB-MONKEY in sloppy green handwriting. He groans. There’s only one person who calls him that, and he’s already made plans for tonight. He opens the letter, planning on writing Zim back and asking him to maybe reschedule his newest world domination plot, but all it says is BYE :) – FROM: THE MIGHTY ZIM.
“’Bye’? The fuck does he mean ‘bye’?” mutters Dib. He thinks about it for a little while, before coming to a conclusion: “He’s trying to make me let my guard down! That bastard! Well, it won’t work. I’ll go spy on his house tonight and see what he’s up to.”
~
He enters his lab to gather his equipment only to realize it’s already occupied. “Gaz! What are you doing?”
“I got this new video game,” she explains passively, not looking away from the screen as she shoots down UFOs. “Someone threw it in through my window and it only runs on the big supercomputer you have in here. It’s fun, I guess, but I can’t read the dialogue. I think it’s in Russian.” It’s absolutely not in Russian.
Dib notices the packaging on the floor. The game’s box has an image of what seems to be the beginning of a battle, Irkens on one side and several other aliens he doesn’t recognize on the other. “Zim gave this to you, didn’t he?”
She shrugs. “Would make sense. Now fuck off, I’m in the zone.”
“Of course! This must be part of his plan!” he says to himself. “This game is propaganda. I mean, the Irkens are the good guys here, but they aren’t in real life. He’s taking advantage of Gaz’s love of video games to sway her to his side so she can join him and use her weird, dark powers that nobody really thinks about for evil! GAZ!” He knocks the controller out of her hand. “PUT IT DOWN! DON’T BELIEVE HIM!” A sad piano tune plays from the speakers as the game shifts to an image of a broken PAK. What can only be assumed to be the words ‘GAME OVER’ in this mystery language (not really a mystery, though, since it’s in Irken) flash on the screen.
She opens her eyes a bit and gives him a look that could freeze molten metal. “Listen here, Dib, you just made me lose. Now, I haven’t lost this game since I first got it, Dib. I’ve been playing this for seven hours, DIB. I know I’ve promised to be a bit nicer and all that, but if you don’t get whatever you came here for and leave, I can’t guarantee you’ll leave with all your bones.”
He does as she says, not bothering to point out that it’s his lab, grabbing his camera and making his way towards his rival’s house.
~
It’s not there.
It’s legitimately fucking gone. The only sign that a murderous alien once lived here is the pit in the ground and the holes in the walls of the neighboring buildings.
Dib doesn’t know what to believe anymore. Is this another one of his plots? Or did he actually just leave? Whatever’s going on, something doesn’t sit right about all this. He looks down into the pit. So many tunnels, so many different compounds, once enforced with walls, now just imprints of what they were. It’s like an ant colony, almost. There still has to be something down there.
He leans forward a bit. “I know you’re down there, asshole,” he calls. “You can come out now. I know all about your evil plan.” No response.
“He couldn’t have gotten smarter, could he?” Normally, Zim would yell back some sort of stupid insult and give away his position. Maybe he doesn’t feel insulted enough. Dib leans forward again. “You’re a piece of shit alien, you know! You’ll never amount to anything! You’re, uh . . . you’re just like your father!” Still no response. “And your Tallest are stupid!” There. If that doesn’t work, nothing will.
. . . Apparently, nothing will.
He gets as close to the edge as he can without falling, which evidently doesn’t work. The loose soil gives way under him and he plummets into the darkness below, with a cry for help that no one hears.