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He’d tested it, of course. A few times, on a few Zims near the bottom of the hierarchy. Zims no one would miss, like the one that had some kind of glitch in his Pak that kept him perpetually laughing, or the one that had at some point become flattened like paper. Most of them ended up frying from the prototype virus and picked for parts before being thrown out the back. He’d have quite a pile of corpses if it wasn’t for the fact that he usually burnt them to avoid the smell.
Not that roasted irken was much better, but at least it faded with time.
Now, though, it was working like a dream. The new 100 (how on Earth had he made it to 100, packing peanuts, really?) and his little Dib and the pathetic little baby-Zim and fish-Zim had been sent away. He briefly considered letting the other version of himself in on the plan, but- no, he was certainly a slipshod Dib if he’d even been pulled in by the signal. He needed only the perfect- failure was not an option.
“Number two.” He paced around him, worn boots making barely a sound. He’d have to send a Zim into a different universe to get him some more before ordering detonation, he was starting to get sick of how his feet slid around inside the leather.
“Yes, oh glorious Dib?” His voice had the tones of Zim, but all the personality stripped aside, making room for Dib like he could slide down that frame and fill him from the inside out with his perfect, perfect, plan. His perfect self. A mirror with just the face of a Zim.
“Who do you obey?”
“You, your brilliance.” Two stared straight ahead, and Dib circled him again, examining every inch and popping his Pak legs to get a better look at Two’s face as a grin spread across his own. Heat ran through his head, rattling and boiling the blood around his brain, but he was used to that by now.
“Yes, I am brilliant, aren’t I...?” His eyes squinted. “I thought there might be more... visible markers. Your Pak’s glowing blue, but otherwise, you look like yourself.” There was a gentle slope to Two′s face, but the stress and manic energy were gone. Moldable, pliable, the shines of his eyes shifting ever-so-slightly as he followed Dib’s gaze. “I got all the bugs out, then. That works in my favor, though, since they won’t suspect a thing. They’ll all be dead by the time they realize.”
“Of course, Number One.” Two turned his head slightly, and Dib jolted- he hadn’t directly commanded him to do that. “Your plan is perfect.” He blinked slowly- much slower than most Zims. Most Zims were utterly manic, back and forth and back and forth, loud and brutal and dangerous, but Two- Two had always worshiped him. Maybe even more than the rest. It had been nice, to be admired so heavily. Two had adored the personal attention when he was turned into an errand boy.
Dib might miss him.
He shook that thought out of his head, gripping both sides of Two’s face with his index finger and thumb, nails (not claws, they weren’t claws) digging into the cheeks.
“You belong to me.” Two didn’t respond, and Dib dug in a little further. Irken skin was thicker than a human’s, with a single drop of pink blood oozing over Dib’s fingernail and leaving a barely-perceptible damp trail. “Respond. Who do you belong to?”
“I belong to you, Number One.” It almost looked comical, how he spoke a bit muffled with Dib squeezing his cheeks, like a fish. Dib released, withdrawing his Pak legs. He should just go sit down by the computer. Two was going to wipe out an entire universe of irken scum. He was a Zim, that kind of honorable death was more than he deserved.
He was taller than Dib. Why was that thought sticking in his brain so much? He resisted the urge to pop up on his Pak legs again to assert his authority- he needed to be clear-headed for this. Two’s only motion against his programming was to praise Dib- it must have been a subroutine he’d half-forgotten from an earlier version of the code, and certainly was nothing to worry about.
Perhaps he was just sentimental because Two had been useful these past few months? In the marginal sort of helpfulness that any sort of wide-eyed errand boy could be. Yes, that made sense. It was the same way a person could miss a particularly worn household appliance. Humans weren’t really meant for months and months of solitude, he was merely projecting some of that onto the Zim he’d interacted with the most. He’d probably do the same to a broom with a face on it. It was better to get rid of him to nip this in the bud, he had a lot of Zims to get through.
“Two.” He tapped his fingers on the side of his thigh. “Who do you belong to?”
“To you, my wonderful Dib.”
“What do you want?”
“To serve you, my masterful Dib.”
He crossed the room to settle down in his chair, fiddling with the buttons before opening the portal. Two couldn’t see him anymore, and Dib could only hear the faint hum of the electronics around him.
“You understand the plan.”
“I am to make my way to the Tallest and then deliver the virus, destroying every trace of irken filth from the galaxy.”
“Good. Good, good.” His fingernails clicked as he tap-tap-tapped them on the console. “Go.”
Ozone crackles hung heavy in the air and Dib could taste salt as the portal closed behind him and the tracking stats began.
Showtime.