Chapter 1: Preface
Chapter Text
PREFACE
Greetings, my excellent friend. Welcome to Nicktoons Unite.
If you're just now clicking on this story, be informed that this is a sequel and crossover to several stories I've written: Hey Arnold! The Football Head Returns, Danny Phantom: End of Days, Rocket Power: Zero Gravity, ChalkZone: Quest for the Golden Chalk, The Loud House: Ace of Spades, and Hey Arnold! The Maximum Curly Saga.
If you haven't read any of those yet, please go read those now before you carry on, or else you're not gonna know what's going on.
Also be noted that while this story does bear the name Nicktoons Unite, it is not related to the video game of the same name, which I have not played. My story is an entirely original work with my own roster of Nicktoons, and is a similar premise in name only.
If you've been following the stories up to this point on Fanfiction-dot-net, you might have read different drafts of those stories before they underwent rewrites. Over the years, I've gained a lot of experience with writing, and changed them from their old versions to entirely new stories.
Danny Phantom: End of Days was once a 100,000 word-count story that was very amateurish, but now stands at over 360,000 words and is a totally different and better story.
Hey Arnold! The Football Head Returns, Rocket Power: Zero Gravity, and The Loud House: Ace of Spades have half-rewrites, but feature different scenes that were not present in the older drafts, and feature elements that will be built on later.
ChalkZone: Quest for the Golden Chalk and Hey Arnold! The Maximum Curly Saga are mostly the same, but have minor changes that do help improve them.
But now comes the big crossover where it all comes together. Before we get started, however, I want to give you a little more information on why I made this series. I hadn't used this website or written anything until 7 years ago, and I've been working very hard to get to this point.
I've been doing continuations of all the original shows, trying to retool them so they can cross over together, while at the same time trying to preserve their original tones and lore, making them not unlike origin stories for any other superheroes. But there's one more origin story I have to tell you that fully contextualizes the series:
Mine.
This is the secret origin of DevilBoy216.
CHAPTER 1: I AM BORN
In the year 1997, I was born.
I was an only child; I had no brothers or sisters to speak of.
I was also an undiagnosed Autistic child. My sensory imbalances include a diminished sense of touch and hearing, with heightened eyesight, save for the need for glasses or contact lens, which I did not receive until much later, and then replaced with laser treatment.
Where my mother is quite emotional, my father is almost completely lacking in most social graces, often hiding his rigidness behind a friendly smile.
My mother and father were barely special people in any way, shape or form.
My mother was the third child of a family consisting of a traumatized Vietnam veteran and his saintly wife, with twins for siblings; a brother who shared similar interests, and a hellion of sister with a bratty attitude. She spoke of me as some sort of solution to her life, saying it 'sucked' without me in it, as if I am the only thing that gave her life any value whatsoever.
My father was the second and less favored child of his family; his elder brother was given damn near everything by his mother, while he personally received little, and was abused by both his drunken, womanizing father, and spoiled brother, with little to his name and less in the way of close relatives of friends. Yet still, he speaks to them and visits them semi-regularly, and his mother alleges to not remember any of the events she put him through, and acts as if they did not exist, cucking himself to his own tormentors.
I was a loser born to losers.
CHAPTER 2: I AM RAISED
Both held right-wing Christian beliefs, and their beliefs led them to raise me homeschooled through a Christian homeschooling group. As a result, I was deprived of several fundamental facts and information that many of you probably know and take for granted, such as a basic understanding of science, history, and politics. In their place, I was fed propaganda that declared evolution as a hoax, and that the Bible as literally true.
They were not qualified to teach in any fields of study that they 'educated' me in, and were certainly not taught on how to educate an Autistic child. Like any child in my position, I had a very limited understanding of the world, and often got angry when I did not get my way, and was sometimes slow to understand or think. The latter case I was often mocked for, which they would draw attention to and point out for my slow pace, making me feel stupid and unintelligent.
On top of this, my parents also held very strange beliefs, many of which range from dispicable to outright outlandish.
My mother has often made comments stating...
That science is not real...
That she claims to hear voices in her head...
That former human species such as Homo Erectus and Neanderthals could have 'just been deformed people'...
Thinks Hillary Clinton is a lesbian, and that she and perhaps all Democrats are communists and/or socialists and/or progressives (I despite Hillary Clinton and any corrupt Democrats, but they are nowhere near communist or even socialist. There are some progressives who are not corrupt, but she does share this view)...
Asked me if I joined ISIS after I argued for a medicare-for-all style healthcare system for the country...
Does not believe that circumcision is genital mutilation, but believes that foreskin restoration is...
...and has often believed that if I were to attend a public school, I would have become a gang member of some sort, or been prescribed pills that she did not want me taking.
My father has beliefs almost more outlandish, but some downright despicable, such as...
Arguing that racial profiling works...
That Adolf Hitler was 'just trying to make society better' if he succeeded (He is also Pakistani in descent and clearly not white, so he would be among those killed to 'make society better')...
That former president Barack Obama was born in Kenya, and claims to have seen a video of said president's photograph opened in photoshop and had layers removed to reveal that it was doctored (this is nonsense; an image file like JPG or PNG does not retain photoshop layers, only PSD files can do this. He is also a former computer technician and should know this)...
...and that the moon landing was faked, consuming various conspiracy videos on the subject.
Do these sound like people who you believe should be educating a child, much less some of the few people is in constant contact with?
If you answered 'no', you would be correct; alas, I was forced to live in this situation for most of my life, being taught every school subject by them, and having very little friends, only interacting with these two most of the time, and having no means of being on my own away from them; no place where I can be myself and be isolated from them.
As such, I was not given a complete view of the world, and force-fed a very biased and warped version of it. I would often be susceptible to misinformation, and slowly but surely swayed to several right-wing beliefs that had no basis in reality.
From here, I have only bits and pieces of information that I can still recall. There are some memories that have slipped my mind entirely, some from my parents themselves (no matter how unreliable of sources they may be) and some that I've intentionally tried to forget, and I'd rather not remember at all. Nonetheless, what I do remember, I remember very well, and can't forget even if I tried, which I have.
I was a rambunctious child growing up; as an undiagnosed Autistic child, I behaved in ways that many would consider strange, and had a penchant for doing things my way.
Like many children, when not interested in something, I was more likely than not to pay little attention to it, straying into my own imagination. For my parents, attempting to homeschool me, this would earn me many punishments and attempts to force my attention on something.
This would mostly come in the form of medication. They were not trustful of pharmaceuticals (an instinct which, for all their flaws, I must give them credit for), but in lieu of a proper medication was being forced to take fish oil capsules and B-vitamins every day. These pills would always make my stomach hurt, and I never wanted to take them, especially because I didn't like the idea of someone forcing me to change myself through substances in order to appeal to them.
But that is what they made me do nonetheless, and I hated it so much. For their rhetoric of opposing medication, they opted to medicate me by any other means besides proper medication. Additionally, my mother specifically would threaten to make me take an unspecified drug that 'made me act like a robot' if I refused, threatening me with something that would further alter my thinking and consciousness.
They are not certified doctors at all, but they would attempt to diagnose me with disorders that they tried to attribute to me, such as ODD (Oppositional Defiant Disorder), and always accuse me of bad behavior for not taking them. Whether or not I really required medication as a child is a question that is left to qualified doctors, but they were the last people who should have decided how to medicate me.
Adding to this mix, I was also hit with a belt for anything they viewed necessary as a punishment. My father would always seem eager to go for the belt, even making me get it to administer the punishment, but my mother would partake in using it as well. I was a child that angered easily, and, with these two attempting to control my every decision, I was indeed angered many times, and was hit for it, forcing me into a cycle of abuse I could not escape.
I was a child who had barely a full consciousness to my name, and forced to into a routine of work that I had no means of changing or protesting against, and nowhere to go. Much like the Hulk, I was an angry boy who just wanted to be left alone, but they would not, and would not stop provoking me, and subsequently 'punish' me for reacting negatively to their provocations.
A few specific ones that I remember that did not involve belts were almost being forced to pick up dog shit with my teeth, with my father pushing my head towards it in trying to make me grab it, having a bar of soap shoved in my mouth, locking me in the garage, shoving a cloth in my mouth and restraining me, recording me during an angry, childish rant as a means of humiliating me, just to name the few I can recall.
I would cry and scream about these punishments, trying to call for them to stop, and to say how much they hurt, but I would only receive callous remarks in which my mother would tell me 'I don't speak whine', or mockingly cry like a baby to dismiss my own anger.
But there are moments of retaliation I took that I enjoyed greatly, I remember managing to hit my mother in the hand once with a belt (but threw it away after, for which I'll never understand why), pulling her hair out, and choking her.
My father was the one who administered most of the physical punishments, often grabbing me and restraining me, making me feel weak and powerless. He would slap me many times, yell at me, and throw me to the ground, once jumping on me after doing so, and kicking me while down on another.
When my body grew, I had almost no exercise routine in place, and I was weak, with my arms so devoid of muscle that you could feel my bone. He would again mock me for this, calling me weak and accusing me of always dropping things, further humiliating me and making me feel powerless.
As such, there was only one time when I managed to retaliate against my father for his torment. There was an instance where he began to headbutt me relentlessly, then scraping his head against mine, and would not stop.
So, I dug my fingernails into his face and scratched it deep enough to bleed. He had healed up from it later, but I wished that it had left a permanent mark on him. He had called me a girl for making that attack, but I never let the insult get to me, because, after all, I wasn't the one who was bleeding, was I?
I wanted to kill them multiple times, but I was too weak and stupid to actually do it. My mother once put a knife in my hand and told me to kill her, but I did not do it. I once took out an airsoft pistol and hid it in the couch to shoot my father with it, thinking it would kill him, but, once again, I cowardly backed out and snuck the airsoft gun back, unaware that it would even seriously harm him.
I also attempted suicide once in front of my father, grabbing my neck and attempting to break it, but this only earned me another hit with the belt.
I was in hell.
There were times I would just yell or cry when I went to bed, wishing desperately that I could get as far away from them as possible.
CHAPTER 3: I FIND FRIENDS
Through the homeschool group my parents put me in, there was a facility where I attended one day a week, meeting with some children my age, and a few in my neighborhood that I hung out with, but these were far and few between, and I barely got to go on luxuries such as going to a friend's house, simply for lack of availability.
I also had no siblings, leaving me an only child with little in the way of friends. Those friends I did have I loved to spend time with, and tried to do so as much as I could, trying to find some escape from the house and be somewhere else, with someone else.
Once again, I received mockery from my parents over this, even accusing me of being gay for wanting to spend time with other friends.
I wish I could remember many of the times I spent with my friends, but I can't even remember their faces or their names anymore. I know I knew people back then, and I knew that I had fun with them, but I can't remember anything else. Again, this goes back to my forgetting most of my past.
A lesson I've learned about this is in regards as to why some things we can remember better than others: The pain associated with punishments and trauma force us to remember them, leaving scars on our minds. A scar lasts forever, but something soothing and good for you only lasts a short while. It's little more than a stop-gap against what makes you hurt.
But what I know for a fact is that they all consistently left. If there's one word I hate most in the English language, it's 'goodbye'. I would always lose contact with people I once knew for a long time, cycling through friends until I had none left. This is a problem that still stays with me to this day.
So what I had for friends more often than not were my toys, and movies.
My favorite toys growing up were Bionicles, and I would always try to get them all every Christmas. I also had the movies and most of the comics; from a young age, I had an interest for deep lore and epic stories. Yes, despite all the abuse I would endure from my parents, they would still grant me many toys and luxuries, but I want to address this important fact:
The few good things I got from them, I do not accept as a fair trade for the bad they gave. In fact, I view many of the goods they did to make their bads even worse.
Imagine if you were dealt a small amount of abuse every now and then. You would, of course, recognize that as bad. But if this was compounded with a reward, perhaps you wouldn't see the wrong that was done to you as 'wrong', now, would you? 'Well, gee, sure, I got hit with a belt, but I got this nice toy, so I guess that it's not all bad'.
No. Wrong is wrong. Imagine if any random person did this to a child. You would immediately recognize it as abusive. Or perhaps think of it between a pair of romantic partners. That would be abusive as well, would it not? Trying to cover up a recurring problem of violence with material items?
So why should it be any different for me? It left me confused over the abuse I took, and I perhaps never would have realized it was abuse, and been led to do that wrong to others by the way I was taught. I could have been an abusive person just like them. I would rather they were just abusive and not even have the facade of love so I would never be mistaken.
Furthermore, their personalities are completely insufferable. On top of being around them almost all of my life, their voices would never be out of my ears, burning into my mind to further annoy me in general, giving me no sense of peace.
But on top of having toys, I also enjoyed video games, movies, and cartoons, just like any other child. These were my best friends growing up. I could be at it all for hours, and be happy in my own world. As someone who needed consistent sensory stimulation, as per my Autistic needs, they were the only things keeping me sane.
However, just as I would receive punishment by the belt, they would also take my playthings away.
Kevin Smith's Dogma has a deleted scene in which the character Azrael describes Hell:
"Human, have you been to Hell? I think not. Did you know that Hell used to be just the absence of God, and if you'd ever been in his presence, you'd know that's punishment enough?"
For when I was separated from my play, it was like being taken out of the presence of god, and being deprived of love. One of the worst things they did was take my favorite teddy bear, a blue bear I named Jack, and cut him open with a pair of scissors. I was so devastated that I could do nothing but stand in total silence and shock. Though they later fixed the bear by sewing the tear, it was still one breach of safety that I never forgot.
Once, later in my life, they took everything I had for four months. The punishment was in response to a childish offense I committed against my cousin, who herself is a very unpleasant and obnoxious person, and I did not like at all. She had a Twilight standee which I poked a pair of holes in, putting them through the eyes of it.
Should I have done that? No. Should I have been punished for it? Yes. But would you consider what is practically sensory deprivation to an Autistic person for four months to be a suitable punishment over, say, simply having to pay for a new standee, which they made me do anyway?
Though my cousin had her fair share of problems, I swear that my parents were far more patient with her than they were with me, and I was easy to push around because I was their son, and there was no repercussions to suffer.
Again, I was mocked for this. My mother specifically would accuse me of 'worshipping' my playthings, especially in a religious context, for when she would try to brainwash me into Christianity.
So, I would be alone in my own head, and without any means of stimulating myself or my mind. Still it was hell.
But I would still divulge myself in, memorizing entire lines out of movies and quoting them, imagining the characters and having fictional conversations with them to myself.
Two of the biggest loves I would find here were superheroes and Nicktoons. I loved the Sam Raimi Spider-Man trilogy and what DVDs I had of the 1994 animated series, as well as a DVD called Nickstravaganza 2, which included episodes of Rocket Power, ChalkZone, and Invader Zim, which became some of my favorites. Of course, I also loved SpongeBob, and it would play all the time, but I would also wait out for my other favorite shows like those previously mentioned, and Danny Phantom.
I also saw some of the classic Nicktoons movies in theaters, such as The WIld Thornberrys Movie, andI would also often frequent Universal Studios Orlando, which had two of my favorite rides: The Adventures of Spider-Man and Jimmy Neutron's Nicktoons Blast, the latter of which is no longer operational, but you can find videos of it on YouTube.
They were well ingrained in my favorite things, but they would go to the sidelines over the years, as I began to grow and find new interests.
CHAPTER 4: I GROW UP
As I grew up, I began to take greater interest in movies, taking in action movies like Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jackie Chan vehicles, and other big action movies like The Matrix. Most of these were courtesy of my father, who, for all his several flaws, was far more liberal with my media consumption than my mother.
My mother would dislike when I watch shows like Ed, Edd, and Eddy or The Simpsons, refusing me to let me watch them, and buying a box for the TV that censored any and all swear words, always trying to make me consume overly sanitized media. My father, conversely, let me watch almost anything I wanted.
I started to gain a better taste in movies and started to learn the names of directors and what other works they did, wanting to learn more. Some of my favorites would come to be men like Robert Rodriguez, Quentin Tarantino, James Cameron, and John Carpenter, to name some of the biggest influences I had.
This would eventually lead me to getting my first job, which would be at a local MovieStop (it was an offshoot of GameStop focused on DVDs and Blu-Rays that sadly went bankrupt).
There, I learned of other filmmakers I would enjoy that not many would have heard of, such as Ralph Bakshi and Ryuhei Kitamura, as well as finding classics such as Akira and Ghost in the Shell.
I was also much into video games as well, primarily wasting my time playing the Call of Duty games. But ones I especially loved were Halo and Metal Gear Solid, the second in each franchise being my favorites.
I have not much else to say in this period of my life, because, for the most part, there was nothing else to speak of. I could go on and on about what influences I gained, but that you can find on my bio in full in a full list.
My life during this period was wasted with more schoolwork for courses I cannot remember, filling the void with video games, and fulfilling jobs. It was a pathetic, meaningless existence, and I thought very little about the world around me, save for my job, which I did genuinely enjoy.
Sadly, I had that job no longer when the company closed, leaving me to find another job. My next one was with a hardware store, which was one of the worst experiences I had, for one of the worst times of my life.
CHAPTER 5: I WANT TO DIE
I had graduated through school, though I had not truly 'graduated' so much as just 'gotten it over with'. As I said, I never cared much for what classes I took, and, during the high school years, I would take a virtual school with the state, and mostly phone in the classes by copy-pasting the answers from the lesson to the questionnaires so I could get them out of my way as soon as possible. Following the long, tortuous experience I had with my parents homeschooling me, I swore never to return to any school or do any schoolwork again.
I had reached had a new job. It was nowhere near a pleasant experience.
Though some of my coworkers were alright, the customers consisted of mainly old people and vagrants, and were more often than not quite rude. The smell of the place was also very unpleasant, always reeking of metal and wood and oil.
I would often be dragged along to places I didn't want to go as a kid, and I hated hardware stores most of all. It was always the smell of the place that would always make me the angriest and most frustrated. Waking up for the job many early mornings, I would always be tired, and mostly out of my head.
Most of all, I didn't know anything about tools, nor did I want to. I was once again in hell, and perhaps an even worse one.
I tried to vent to my parents about the troubles with my job, but I would always receive scorn or indifference, telling me that every job that I would have to put up would be hard, and I would have to get used to it. They would also try to push me to find something else to do with my life relating to college, but, on top of having no interest in college or jobs related to it, I also had no interest in accumulating an unpayable debt that would come with college, making it not an option.
Around that time, I managed to connect with someone I once knew as a child, as part of the homeschooling group I was put in. Call it puppy love, but this person was someone I considered a love interest when I was young.
She moved away when I was little, and, according to my parents, I was never as upset before until that happened. Her and I were born very close together in the month and same year, and I had believed that we were somehow meant for each other. How depressing it must have been for me back then to have that illusion shattered.
Around that time, I had also smoked weed for the first time. One of my more interesting coworkers invited me to smoke with her after a Christmas party at our job, which I, a dumb, young man, took up the offer (It wasn't in the way you're thinking. She had a boyfriend and a child of her own, and was twice my age).
I had smoked it by inhaling the weed and holding my breath for as long as I could, which they said would enhance the high.
And boy, oh, boy, it did.
When I got high, I acted like I got hit with Joker gas: I couldn't stop laughing, almost as if it were involuntary, and frantically went about back and forth about her apartment. She was with another of our coworkers who joined us, and both of them started at me in amazement, saying they'd never seen anyone react like I did. The fun continued until I eventually calmed down and went to sleep, going home the next morning.
The next day, I felt much different. Typically, I was a more zany and goofy person, but, following that smoke session, I was drastically different. I was more introspective and thoughtful, beginning to articulate myself differently and think more critically. I felt like Michael Korvac absorbing the Power Cosmic from Galactus, just starting to learn the power.
This also led me to turn on my past, and think about myself more. I had forgotten most of the abuse I was put through, but my mind was opened to where I could sufficiently look back and think about it, realizing what had become of me. Realizing I was not happy.
But, being in contact with that old flame, I had falsely attributed it to her leaving, and told her this, believing that her moving out was the root of my problems.
As a result, she swore never to speak to me again and blocked me.
This had driven me mad, feeling as though I had the sole support I had ripped out from under me.
It was then when I finally contemplated suicide, and made the action to do it.
Stealing a small handgun from my parent's gun locker, I drove from Florida to New York to confront her, planning on shooting myself in front of her. I had left an angry note behind for my parents to find explaining my anger, which they found halfway through my trip and tried to call me, but I ignored them.
After 2 days of driving, I arrived, and her father was the first person to confront me; my parents had found their contact information and informed them of the situation, and they agreed to help. He requested the handgun away from me and sat me down before the family, allowing me to explain myself.
Her parents, I will say, are very nice people. They allowed me to stay for two weeks, to which I did as a cool-down period. I did some yard work for them as well, to try to pull my weight for being there. It was a good time, and I felt good to be around anyone but my parents at the time. They were genuinely caring people, and it felt good to have that.
After this period, I left not for home, but for one of the few safe havens I've ever known:
My grandmother's house.
CHAPTER 6: I FIND MYSELF
One of the places I would visit very often as a child was my grandmother's house, going often for summer vacations and Christmas. Though I had very little escapes from my parents, this was one of the few reprieves I ever had. My granparents live in Georgia, in a little house on a hill among the woods.
I had mentioned my grandfather, her father, as a traumatized Vietnam vet who went on bizarre fits (such as playing Michael Jackson's 'Man in the Mirror' at 3 in the morning for no apparent reason), but this was not the person I knew. He was a kind and loving man, taking me on all sorts of fun trips such as camping, fishing, drives around town, and getting me junk food and Coca-Cola.
My grandmother, as I said, is a saint. She is the nicest person I know, and has endless patience for everything. Her I wouldn't spend as much time with as the others, something I regret greatly, but I loved her nonetheless and enjoyed her company. I used to believe she was the tooth fairy; she had a job delivering teeth to dentists, and thus earned the nickname of 'The Tooth Fairy', which I took literally and with pride.
My uncle, my mother's brother, is a bit of a putz, but he had access to all the movies I wanted, and it was through him I discovered a lot of the classics and my favorites while at the house.
My elder cousin (who is a trans woman, but had not transitioned when I knew her) had an original Xbox and through her I discovered Halo 2 and Metal Gear Solid 2, playing them constantly as a child.
My younger cousin I used to play toys and such with, but I grew estranged from her later. She is not exactly the most pleasant of people to be around. Nonetheless, I was through her that I watched the original Rugrats movie and A Goofy Movie, as well as Mighty Morphin Power Rangers.
My uncle and elder cousin no longer live there, with the latter being estranged from the family, and my grandfather endured a stroke from his smoking habits, so the house is not as it once was. Nonetheless, I still love that house very much, and I have always felt at peace there.
So I stopped there on my way back home, spending time in a place I loved the most, the thing I needed most at the time I was in.
I had relaxed and enjoyed myself as I always did there, but, with my new introspective look, I began to grow a taste for knowledge. Taking to the internet, I had discovered channels covering various subjects like religion and politics, primarily through the creators DarkMatter2525 and Kyle Kulinski/Secular Talk, who managed to turn me to atheism and leftism, respectively.
That was when I started to gain a better understanding of the world, and just how misinformed and brainwashed I was, and how it was not the old flame I once had that caused the problems I had, but instead my parents. Shaken out of my past programming that I was fed as child, I started to grow angrier at my parents for what they did, feeling my entire basis of reality being based on a lie.
I was angry enough to destroy. The person I was wasn't real. He was a fake dream created by a pair of neglected children who were trying to fulfill their own needs.
I was a bad kid raised by bad kids.
I was a monster raised by monsters.
It was almost a lower point than I had been at before, but not sad enough to kill myself. Instead, I felt empty, without guidance or direction. The world no longer seemed to matter and I still felt no drive to do anything.
But then, while simply watching TV, that was when I found the person who would at last change my life, and make it change for the better, making me who I am today.
A kid from Hillwood named Arnold Phillip Shortman.
CHAPTER 7: I AM BORN AGAIN
Out of the Nicktoons I mentioned above, you will notice that among the favorites I mentioned, Hey Arnold was not one of them. I hadn't watched the show at all before then. I didn't even know what it was. The closest interaction I had with it was it briefly being shown in the ride Jimmy Neutron's Nicktoons Blast, but I hadn't known or recognized it then. I wish I had now so I could savor that ride all the better.
So it was by chance that I came across Hey Arnold on TV late at night. At the time, Nickelodeon was in full effect with re-airing their classic shows late at night on their 'The Splat' block, and, having grown up on many of those shows, I watched it while I was there. It had all been part of my healing, taking me back to a more comfortable spot in my life.
It had put me in such a vulnerable place where I felt at peace. I once again remembered when I would watch my favorite shows, and how warm and welcoming it felt to be with my Nicktoons. I always loved the worlds they brought me in, giving me the perspective of a child, when I was still happy. Pax Americana.
But then, after some Rugrats, a show called Hey Arnold came on. Huh? Hey Arnold? What's that? Well, it's a classic, so I guess I'll watch it.
And what a splendid decision it was.
As a child, I had always wanted to be out of the house, to be somewhere big and new, and be among other people. I always liked the setting of a big city, just like Spider-Man had been in with New York City, and wondered what it would be like to live there. It was the biggest, most different setting from my own living situation that I had, and I had yearned for something completely different from where I was now.
And, with Hey Arnold, I got a taste of it.
But I didn't realize it yet. I had bought a DVD box set at a Wal-Mart nearby, and stashed it away for a bit in favor of watching other movies.
But, when I finally got home again, after getting a new job at Target, I was with delight and joy that I found that Hey Arnold! The Jungle Movie was coming out. That was when I busted it out and started watching more. Most importantly, I began to realize why I loved it so much.
I loved the setting of Hillwood, I felt like I was really there in the bustling, busy rumblings of a city, just being a kid and living among the people, I loved the jazz soundtrack, making it all feel so warm and welcoming, while at the same time energetic and lively, making you feel alive, I loved being among the kids from P.S. 118, getting to know them, feeling like I was part of their group...
...but most especially, I loved the character of Arnold. Craig Bartlett once complained that he felt he was 'too perfect'. I could not disagree more.
He was an all-loving hero, always helping out, always willing to lend a hand, always willing to go the extra length for someone else. He was the best friend I never had growing up. I saw the good deeds he did throughout Hillwood, and how he alone was a force for good.
He was everything I wasn't.
And this is where the old, fake me had at last began to die, and the new out.
I had mentioned before how I would consume all forms of cartoons and movies, going so far as to repeat and reenact lines. This is related to my Autism (and when I say 'my Autism', I don't mean it as in 'my condition', but how I am Autistic, as no two Autistic people are alike); I can, for lack of better phrasing, absorb personality traits off of others.
Even how I learned how to read is attributable to the shows I watched; as a result of the swear box my mother put on the TV, it would replace certain words like 'ass' and replace them with 'toe', so I would repeat the phrase as "I'm gonna kick your toe!" as if that were the genuine phrase.
But when I watched Hey Arnold, what happened to me, I can only describe by comparing it to an issue of Spider-Man, which led to the Superior Spider-Man storyline.
Doctor Octopus swaps his mind with Spider-Man, allowing him to take over his body before his own dies. Before Spider-Man dies, he manages to unlock his own memories in his brain, forcing Doctor Octopus to live them out. Vicariously living Spider-Man's life, Doctor Octopus decides to give up his life of villainy, instead dedicating it to fighting crime, just as the true Spider-Man did.
That's what it felt like for me. Like I was the person helping out all the people in Hillwood, and I inherited his desire for good and good deeds. The part in The Maximum Curly Saga when Curly/The Freak says "Oh... Now I get it"? That was me. That's how I felt after I watched it.
My anger was finally subsided, and I was at last getting some semblance of peace. My parents, though they now show sympathy and care following my suicide attempt, I no longer hate, but simply pity. They are victims just as much of their environments, and I can make the active choice to not continue what they did. I can't forgive them or forget what they did, but I can understand them.
Through all this affair, I can relate most of my struggle to the DC character Orion, of Jack Kirby's New Gods, one of my personal favorite comic book characters. Orion is the son of Darkseid, who is, for all intents and purposes, the god of evil of the DC universe. He was an evil person from the start, but, out of a peace treaty, he was given over to Izaya, the Highfather.
When Orion was first given to Izaya, the young son of Darkseid tried to kill him with a knife, screaming that Izaya hated him.
Izaya responded by saying: "'Hate' is no longer a word in this place! Put down that weapon... son!"
Complying with Izaya's order, Orion asked "You!... You are... my father?"
Izaya responeded "Only if you wish me to be! I am Highfather! And you... are Orion! We have need of each other, Orion! This is a place of friends!"
He then offered his hand to Orion, saying "The hand or the weapon, Orion! I, too, had to mae that choice! Decide!"
And Orion dropped the knife, putting his trust in Izaya.
That's what it felt like when I watched his show. I wanted to disagree with him, to hate him, I wanted to stand for the opposite of what he was...
...but I couldn't. He defeated me.
To steal a line from Ben-Hur: "It was like the sword was taken out of my hand."
So, when The Jungle Movie came out, I was ready. November 24th, 2017, I had worked a long black Friday shift with only 1 hour of sleep, working all day pushing carts back inside the store, but I wasn't stopped or deterred or even tired at all. When my shift was over, I rushed back home to watch it as it aired. I hadn't cable anymore, so I had to use a free trial of some internet TV service instead.
And, as it came on and I watched it, I felt like I was part of history.
From beginning to end, I was pleased with the movie, and I was glad to see the story of Arnold Shortman come to a close, and a satisfying one to see him both have his parents back, and with Helga... eventually. It was wonderful. And so that was the end of Hey Arnold, and I was along for the ride, and happy to have been apart of it...
...but I wasn't done with it yet.
CHAPTER 8: THE MISSION BEGINS
After I had finished the entirety of Hey Arnold, I had also began rewatching the original Batman movies by Tim Burton, and The Dark Knight Trilogy by Christopher Nolan. At the time, I was beginning to become deeply vested in comic books, something I was not previously into despite my interest in superheroes.
I had read only a handful at the time, but most notable were some of Chris Claremont's X-Men, particularly The Dark Phoenix Saga and Days of Future Past, but also, my personal favorite comic book of all time, Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns.
Though Hey Arnold was finished, and I thought of it as such in my mind, it was not so as I thought.
For some reason, an idea began to bounce around in my head. There was a brief moment in The Jungle Movie which Helga showed a parody of the Bat-Signal shaped like Arnold's head. So, what if Arnold Shortman was a superhero?
It was a dumb idea and a stupid one based on nothing but a joke and the particular movies I was watching, but it just wouldn't go away. I started to have little glimpses of a story start to form in my head, thinking of what characters would be like other comic book characters, and how scenes from comics or movies would play out with Hey Arnold characters.
I tried again to dismiss it, but that still didn't work. So, finally, I began writing the idea down on paper to try to get rid of it; to try to shit it out and leave it behind.
Then I kept going.
And I kept going.
And I still kept going.
And, before I knew it, I had a 50,000 word draft of an entire story based on Hey Arnold, centered around him being a superhero, taking my time to tie the lore in and make it plausible.
I still couldn't stop thinking about it, and then, there was something else that made it go further.
Butch Hartman, before his numerous controversies and practical exile from cartoon circles, made a video parodying the trailer for the 2017 Justice League movie with Nicktoons characters. The video received a ton of positive reception, with many people calling for an actual Nicktoons crossover movie, something that had apparently been wanted by fans for decades.
With one story already finished, I realized there was only one thing left for me to do:
Continue.
Before I started the project, I was someone who never wanted to be anything. When asked what I wanted to do with my life, I always answered 'nothing'. My parents, for all their abuse and mistreatment of me, did it with the intent of trying to make me a functional person in society. In response, I made it a point to not do anything out of of spite, to not give them any reason to be proud of me. I wanted to waste whatever gifts or potential I had as revenge, to not use any of what they gave me.
But this was something that I could not ignore, no matter how hard I tried, and my calling came from Hey Arnold itself, and I decided that I would do it for the show, rather than them or anyone else, and I would do it all on my own terms.
According to my parents, I displayed an unusually high understanding of the English language at a young age, allegedly scoring a 10th grade level on a 2nd grade test, and read books that were several levels above my reading age. It was a muscle that I had neglected for a long time, and I had not used since.
I had also not written anything at all before starting this project. The most I had made was a small story based on Shakespare's MacBeth as a school project during my high school grades with the state virtual school. The story got me a perfect score, so I must've had something then, too.
So, I had no education and less experience. That means I had to start entirely from scratch. Stan Lee once was quotes by saying reading makes you a better writer, so I took to reading a lot more comic books, reading approximately 60 issues a week, and watching as many movies as I could find, expanding to as many genres as I could discover, which I still do to this day.
The original drafts of my work were very crude by my standards now, but nonetheless a fundamental start. I'm proud of how they stand now, and pleased with my abilities now.
But I did all of it for a reason, and for one specific goal.
I did not just make this to be a simple fanfiction.
I'm going to pitch it all to Nickelodeon themselves to be their own film franchise.
The fans have all been neglected just as their shows were, cancelled and forgotten to give way for more SpongeBob, and I'm here to change that. I want to bring all the Nicktoons back, and bring them back better than ever before. I don't just want to complete the shows; I want them to have the best movies of all time, and everything I make to be my magnus opus. Not because I want awards or for some recognition, but to give these shows what they deserve for making us happy as children.
The moneychangers at Nickelodeon now are not concerned with what made them what they are now. They would rather let their great works die alone and forgotten, all to push more SpongeBob spinoffs and other junk to pander to the lowest common denominator, insulting the intelligence of their own audience, which, even if their target is indeed just children, can nonetheless see through their schlock.
I had previously pitched this directly to Craig Bartlett himself, finding his email through backchannels, but he had declined my offer, saying that Nickelodeon was not interested in making Hey Arnold at the moment, and adding that he would prefer to make the continuation himself, and also that he had not read my story as not to steal my ideas.
But I didn't tell him what I'm telling you now. I wanted to tell him after he read it, so he could know what effect his show had on me, and why it was so important that I make this. The way I see it, he saved my life, and my life doesn't belong to me anymore. In turn, what I made doesn't belong to me, either, but him. I'm just trying to give him what he's owed.
Furthermore, you've already seen what kind of life I've had, and what effect his show has made on me. The most important part of this series is that I make a positive impact on a person's life, just as he made one on my own. If his show, relegated to television as a cartoon, had such an impact, just imagine how it would do as a worldwide franchise on par with Star Wars or the MCU.
Also, after seeing how Nickelodeon has treated its IP over the years, I'm not certain that he would get the proper chance to continue with a new season or movie. So I may very well be his only option in order to get a fair treatment. And with all these people going to the same colleges to learn the same courses to make the same movies and shows, I'm an outsider who learned things his own way, and, therefore, I can bring something totally new to the table, and something you cannot get anywhere else.
I could go on and on about myself, telling you more about the things I've done since I started this project, and what good differences I've already made, and even found a girl that I do love very much. But I've kept you waiting long enough with my story, and I know you've been waiting for this one.
But I also emphasize: I made this series to try to make the world better. Like Orion, I was not born a good person, and I am trying to be one now. I hope that I can earn that someday.
I've managed to help a few people already:
A kid who read the ChalkZone story did so in between training sessions between his boxing rounds at school, and won his championship.
A good friend of mine has read most of the Danny Phantom story and him and I talk about film a lot, and I've inspired him to write his own screenplay.
I've also met someone very special to me, who's helped me just as much as I try to help her. She started out as a fan of this series just like you, and helped contribute some little ideas here and there for the stories. I never wanted to find love, swearing I would never do so out of anger at my parents; I wanted to ensure that the lineage of this family and all its problems would die with me, and that perhaps I would die after my work here was done...
...but she's made me rethink that, and again made me want to do something for another person, rather than act against another.
I was born and raised to be The Freak, but I'm trying, so desperately trying to be the Green Eye. To be someone Craig Bartlett would be proud of.
I've noticed that much of our favorite works that often try to criticize societal problems are said that they 'aged well', but they really haven't. What this means is that the problems addressed then are stil present, and I want to solve them once and for all by offering solutions for what ails us.
Hey Arnold is not the only show in which I tried to replicate his desire for good. This was also reflected in the other stories:
Danny Phantom I made a critique on the very concept of religion, hoping to make the argument to leave it behind and at last turn people towards logic and reason instead.
Rocket Power I analyzed the purpose of family, demonstrating how it can be good, or how it can be bad, and to try to find the family that gives you what you need.
ChalkZone I made as a call to embrace creativity, and how forgiveness and mercy are needed to overcome trauma, as well as a connection to an inner child.
The Loud House I created to critique how the world can often distract from the self, told through a superhero story, and not to grow up too fast.
Now, through Nicktoons Unite, I will give you all that and more.
And, to help me get this all pitched to Nickelodeon, you can sign my petition here, and follow along with the other directions listed to help me get there:
Hop onto my Discord server for more details and updates as they come, and how else you can help.
But for now, my friend, your childhood is back. It hasn't gone anywhere, but instead, grew up just as you did, and it's waiting to meet you once again and have all the fun you used to have together, and more.
Are you ready to go?
If so, click onto the next chapter, and enjoy Nicktoons Unite.
Chapter 2: Epilogue
Chapter Text
EPILOGUE
"nickelodeon" /ni·kuh·low·dee·uhn/ noun.
1. An early movie theater, to which admission usually cost five cents.
2. A jukebox, originally one operated by the insertion of a nickel coin.
-
One of the greatest authors coined the saying: 'He who controls the past, controls the future. He who controls the present, controls the past'.
Wise as this author was, his perception of time was erroneous in two ways:
The first, was assuming that these concepts are different, when they are one in the same.
The second, was not knowing what lies beyond time.
Time is but the fourth of the three dimensions that comprise our reality; what lies beyond is the fifth dimension, comprised of consciousness. It has been called many things over the era of humans: The afterlife, eternity, hereafter, the great beyond, the Ghost Zone, and the Spirit World. It is more vast than the human mind can comprehend, and vast even beyond that.
Of its inhabitants, there exist a select few that look through the dimensions, voyeurs who watch and chronicle what transpires about the universe. They are without name, gender, or identity, all comprised of a uniform shape of cloaks with singular eyes atop their dome-like heads that gaze into Creation to gain what they will.
They are the Observants.
And you are one of them.
You, Observant, come along with others of your kind, to this meeting place, this theater that exists beyond time and space, where both may be seen for your viewing pleasure. The others are all among you, but you do not interact with them. They are as immaterial as you are, and exist only to observe, as you do now.
It is I who provides you with the Creation which you observe. I am not the creator; I did not bring matter or energy, time or consciousness into existence. They were here before me, and I simply understood how to move them to my will, recreating the universe any way I see fit.
I have been the one who has been in charge of granting you the Creation which gives you all the answers you have desired, the one who has given you meaning where there was none, the one who, throughout endless challenges and resolutions, have brought you the unity you desire.
I am Clockwork.
Welcome to the Tribunal Headquarters.
Welcome to your Nickelodeon.
Alone I come to you, and many you come to me, where I am the lone court jester before a crowd of kings and queens. It is I alone who has been appointed to break you out from your eternal existence, to give you what you cannot possibly get on your own any more, now that your lives will last everlong without end, taking away what meaning and fulfillment you may have once had.
And I have found how to give it to you.
This is my creation.
"Many different worlds and times you have given us over and over, Clockwork. What makes you believe that this one shall be the one to give us content?" One Observant asked.
"What choice do you have but to come to me for the next one? You are merely Observants; you cannot create, you cannot interact, all you do is watch and stay your hands as I do the work for you." Clockwork responded.
"It is not our nature to act. It is, as you deftly mentioned, to observe. Eternal beings we are, our patience is not eternal. We have waited eons beyond eons for our content to come, and still it has not been delivered to us. And you have failed many times before, many stories you have left unfinished, and left us wanting even more." Another Observant said.
"But the stories I have neglected, I leave behind no longer. I shall bring them all back to you, all at once, better than they ever were before, united."
"You promise big and you boast bigger, Clockwork. But your personal theatrics are not what bring us to you. It is your work on Creation which brings us to you. Give us what we came for and make us wait no longer." A different Observant demanded.
"As you wish, Observants. I have promised you, and I shall deliver on what I have promised. Now, observe!"
And so, like any good magician, I, with a wave of my magic wand, I, start the show.
-
There are many different realities from our own, even that of the Ghost Zone and the Observants.
Just as the mathematical possibilities that brought about our universe from the expansion of the Big Bang, the possibilities of different universes and realities are without end or calculation. Nonetheless, they have all begun from a single nexus point of the Big Bang, a constant in the equations that followed.
There is a way to cross over these many realities with one another, by a rift in space/time. To the Irken race, this is known as a 'Florpus'.
One such Irken whose ambition exceeded his capabilities opened one such rift in the universe, causing many to converge with his own in an attempt to appease his superiors, aiming to personally bring them to the planet of his conquering to gain their approval.
As with many plans he has enacted, it has not only failed, but has led to the greater ruin of his superiors.
His superiors are a pair of Irkens taller than the majority of the diminutive alien creatures, referred to as the Almighty Tallest. They have no known names other than 'Red' or 'Purple', the colors of their attire, but their tall stature and hierarchy speak for themselves, eliminating the need for such pleasantries.
Due to the incompetence of the misguided Irken, they were cast into a hellish universe of pain and suffering, forcing them to survive through all its offerings of torture and misery for a timespan untold. Trapped in a reality not their own, their very perspectives of time have left them, leaving them focused only on what new nightmares and pain await them.
Until now.
Through the tireless work of their underlings, the Almighty Tallest, at the bridge of their armada's flagship, the Massive, can at last breathe a sigh of relief following their escape. Leaving the devilish realm behind them, the Irken Armada has found freedom in their own world at last, and grasp once again at their sanity.
It is quiet aboard the Massive save for the gasps and pants for breath that its passengers make, taking their time to collect themselves.
"Almighty Tallest, we have at last freed ourselves from the Florpus. We have returned to our home reality of Universe-216." An Irken pilot said.
The Almighty Tallest took this news in stride, focused too much on their own breaths more than the concerns of anyone or anything else.
"Yeah... Okay... Just... give me a minute here..." Red panted.
"Everybody take 5, people... We just made it out of Hell... I think we all deserve a break after that one..." Purple panted.
The Massive once again went under a fit of silence, brought about for the sole purpose of the Almighty Tallest and their selfishness.
"Almighty Tallest, now that we have returned home, Operation Impending Doom II has been underway following our absence. Shall we request a status report from all Invaders?" An Irken pilot asked.
"No... Operation Impending Doom II is hereby cancelled." Red said.
The news brought gasps from the entire crew, who looked back to the to the Almighty Tallest in complete disbelief.
"A... Almighty Tallest?" An Irken pilot asked.
"You heard me. No more of this intergalactic genocide crap. That's gotten boring, anyway. I got something totally new in mind for the Armada and our invaders." Red said.
"You do?" Purple asked.
"Of course I do."
"But how come you didn't go over this with me? You know, I'm one of the tallest, too, I deserve a say in the-"
Purple's complaints were stifled by Red's fingers poking his eyes in a childish manner, forcing him to cover his eyes as he yelped in pain.
"Ignore him. I'm calling the shots from now on." Red said.
"And what of the Control Brains, Almighty Tallest? Will they not disapprove?" An Irken pilot asked.
"Ah, they can go kick rocks. I realized something in that Hell dimension we just got out of: Life's too short. We shouldn't waste it on big, grand ambitions like we've been doing, just for the sake of others. We should focus on ourselves. And by 'ourselves', I mean, 'me', and you do all the work for me. So, it's pretty much business as usual."
"Then what shall we do, Almighty Tallest?"
"Recall all Invaders and bring them back to the Armada. Then, plot a course for Earth."
The command brought murmurs and confusion about the ship, including from the recovered Purple.
"Wait a minute, Red, that Earth place is the reason why we ended up in that dimension in the first place. You sure you really wanna take us back there?" Purple asked.
"No. It wasn't Earth that did this to us. It was the little defect we sent there years ago in a failed bid to get rid of him. He's the reason we're going back. We're not gonna just let this little problem fester around to make more trouble for us any longer. We're gonna kill him and the horse he rode in on. We're gonna do a full-scale invasion of Earth, and we're going to do it for the sole purpose of getting rid of... him." Red said.
Purple stood in silence after Red's speech, contemplating who the nondescriptive pronoun could apply to.
"Uh... who?" Purple asked.
Frustrated, Red grabbed Purple and began screaming at him, letting out his years-built stress in a single motion.
"ZIM! WE'RE GOING TO EARTH TO KILL ZIM! HE'S THE REASON EVERYTHING IN OUR LIVES WENT WRONG! YOU ABSOLUTE MORON!" Red screamed.
Feeling Red's saliva cover his face, Purple stayed silent in shock, submitting to his fellow leader in fear.
"Oh. Right. I knew that." Purple said.
Releasing Purple, Red took to the bridge and gave his order to the pilots, making his mission as clear as could be.
"Pilots, set a course for Earth, and recall all Invaders to the Armada. We're going to Earth to kill Zim once and for all." Red said.
"Didn't you say that already?" Purple asked.
"That time was for emphasis. I can't express enough how much I want him dead. And boy, oh, boy, does it feel good to think about it."
At the Almighty Tallest's order, the Irken Armada, led on by the Massive, flew through the void of space towards Earth, plotting itself on a course across the galaxy to reach a small, seemingly insignificant planet that housed the Irken defect. Their trip shall be a long one, and, in their minds, it shall pay itself off in full...
"Alright, Zim. This is it. Time to do what we should've done to you in the first place." Red said.
-
...but, in reality, they are heading towards their own doom, one that shall be shared with the rest of Earth.
Enter Zim, a disgraced Invader who has been banished long ago for his sabotage of Operation Impending Doom I, sentenced to a life of servitude on the Irken imperial planet Foodcourtia. Hearing news of Operation Impending Doom II, he had presented himself before the Almighty Tallest in search of a place in it, only to be sarcastically sent to a planet that they knew nothing about.
This planet was our own Earth, and he was 'ordered' to infiltrate it and take it over.
But, to this date, he has failed at that task.
After sending the Almighty Tallest to a universe beyond our own, Zim has been left with little on his mind, and less on his list of goals. He has sworn to take over the Earth many times, coming up with several schemes in order to do so, but all have ended in miserable failure.
This has not stopped Zim from continuing to pursue his goal. What has stopped him, however, was his own absent-mindedness, leading him to pursue other interests that had little to no relation to his current task, nor appearing to have any specific objective in mind other than to relieve boredom.
Such is the case where he completes a series of teleporters made of alien and Earth technology alike, completing the finishing touches on the project.
"AT LAST! MY MASTER PROJECT IS COMPLETE! Come, GIR, observe the technical genius of ZIM!" Zim yelled.
His call, intended for his mechanical underling, did not summon the droid to his side, leaving Zim standing in disappointment as his eyes scanned in vain for GIR.
"GIR! I said, COME WITNESS THE TECHNICAL GENIUS OF ZIM!" Zim yelled.
The second utterance of his call finally brought about the presence of GIR, his somewhat loyal assistant. Built out of a shell of an Irken SIR (Standard-Issue Information Retrieval) unit and filled with miscellaneous garbage and pocket lint from the Almighty Tallest as a cruel insult to Zim's injury of a mission, the droid named GIR appeared as Zim called, happily marching in after a day of fun.
"I like burritos... Burritos are warm and fluffy... Just like friendship..." GIR said.
"GIR, where were you? I just finished working on my master project, and I was severely lacking in an audience to see it. I demand a status report." Zim said.
"Well, I was out on a-"
"I demand a status report!"
"I was out on-"
"I DEMAND IT!"
Following a small beat of silence, GIR attempted once again to answer Zim's question, hoping to receive no interruptions this time.
"I was out on a walk to find the waffle store, then I ended up on a bus that took me somewhere far, far away from home, and I ended up by this lake and I found a dead guy, so I decided to eat him instead, and then I went home." GIR said.
The explanation seemed to lay very little difference to Zim, who listened on in complete disinterest.
"So, you ate a dead guy and came back home. Is that it?" Zim asked.
"And I saw a squirrel. I saw two squirrels. They were married and had a lot of baby squirrels. And I also saw a pigeon." GIR said.
"I see. At least you didn't eat another baby this time."
"Nope, just a dead guy. He tasted really moldy."
GIR then spontaneously regurgitated all the contents of his stomach, spewing a volley of gnashed-up food, none of which were broken down from any digestive acid as GIR had no stomach, as well as the aforementioned dead body. The vile display of vomit once again seemed to make little difference to Zim, save for an impressed look at the sheer amount of liquids, and how large the body inside GIR was.
"Wow. That's certainly a dead guy, alright. And a lot of half-eaten food." Zim said.
"I ate it all. It was so yummy." GIR said.
"Yes, of course. Well, just clean that up later, we have more important matters to discuss."
Zim then approached the teleporters again, with GIR following him to the controls.
"Observe, GIR. Teleporters. Built from technology developed on the planet Cronen. These teleporters do much more than just simply move matter from one place to another. When two life-forms of different DNA combinations are placed inside the pods, they can be transmuted as one being into the third pod, creating a hybrid species out of any two creatures I desire." Zim said.
"Ooh... What happens if we put in a pig and a squirrel in there?" GIR asked.
"Then it will become a hybrid of a pig and a squirrel. It will become... A 'SQUIG'! It shall snort and chitter all about, tormenting the stupid humans with all its horrible noises as it gorges itself on all their salty nuts, depleting their food supply!"
As the inane conversation continued on between Zim and GIR transpired, they thought nothing of anyone else in their vicinity, because, as far as they were concerned, there was no one present to spy on them. Their base has no intruders or spies to be found, and no reason to believe that they are under survelliance.
But they are indeed being listened to.
The eavesdropper is one that they brought in and allowed to stay of their own volition, no matter if they are aware of it or not.
It is the body that has been brought in that has listened.
Dead as it may be, devoid of a soul, the body still functions from the power of a Spirit Master.
It is the corpse Thaddeus 'Curly' Gammelthorpe, known to the world as 'The Freak'.
When without a soul, a body acts no different than any sapient animal, only with an apathy that made most of its concerns food and reproduction, resorting to the basic objective needs of life without any emotion or nuance in the fulfillment of said needs. It is something that very rarely happens, such as Danny Fenton in a past life...
...but, when the body is that of a Spirit Master's, the situation is much different. The brain is enhanced even without the electrical current of a soul to guide it, and it can still make select logical and rational choices for itself. This has been demonstrated with the resurrected Rhonda Lloyd, who inflicted her physical trauma and urges on Arnold Shortman.
The Freak, however, has natural urges that go beyond food and reproduction, and they are influenced by a brain differently wired than most human beings.
His brain is inclined to do evil.
His soul was given a taste of goodness through experiencing the life of Arnold Shortman, allowing him to leave his body in peace...
...but the body is unaffected, and desires to do more evil.
And Zim has unintentionally given him the means to do it.
Rising up from the ground, the body of the Freak limped towards Zim; its deteriorating self had very little strength in its legs to walk, and less time to heal and reconstruct new muscles to drive it on, but, with the opportunity presented to itself, such a problem can easily be ignored.
Soon, he will have a new body.
Stepping up to Zim, the body of the Freak rattled off a deathly growl from its mouth, unable to speak out a full sentence. The noise did not go unnoticed, but it was misattributed to GIR, delaying Zim from an interaction with the monster that his servant brought home to him.
"Or perhaps a 'pirrel', or a 'spigirel', or a 'squirelig', or a... GIR, will you stop making that annoying sound?" Zim asked.
"Master, I didn't say anything." GIR said.
Still hearing the voice, Zim turned around to find the body of the Freak standing over him, staring down with what remained of its eyes with evil intent.
"GIR, I thought you said this human was already dead. How many times have I told you not to eat the live ones? That attracts too much attention!" Zim yelled.
"He was dead when I found him. He wasn't moving around like that before. Especially not when I ate him." GIR said.
"Huh. Perhaps we happened to find a human that developed an immunity to dying somehow; found the key to immortality, and now lives forever without any fear of death."
Unimpressed with his discovery, incorrect as it was, Zim ignored the body of the Freak and turned his attention back to the teleporters.
"Eh, I'm sure that won't be of use. Anyways, as I was saying, with this teleporters, I can make any sort of hybrid that I desire!" Zim declared.
"But how's that gonna help you take over the Earth, master?" GIR asked.
Faced with a question that Zim had no answer for, he stood in confused embarrassment over his wasted labor.
"Oh, that's right. We were supposed to take over the Earth. I sort of... forgot about that. Not to worry, I have a new plan! Next, we'll create a catapult that launches cats! It will reign terror and mayhem among the filthy humans that roam the Earth!" Zim yelled.
Finding its patience lost, the body of the Freak grabbed Zim by the neck, lifting him up into the air.
"AAH! AAH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, STUPID HUMAN?! UNHAND ME AT ONCE!" Zim shouted.
Ignoring his commands, the body of the Freak threw Zim into one of the teleporter pods, closing its door and sealing him inside, leaving him unable to escape.
"OPEN THIS AT ONCE! I COMMAND YOU TO OPEN THIS DOOR AND FREE ME!" Zim screamed.
Still disregarding Zim, the body of the Freak looked to the computer controls to the teleporter, scanning the keyboard and electronics carefully. Utilizing the knowledge it had acquired in life, and gaining new knowledge just by inspecting the controls, the body of the Freak carefully typed out a command which activated the fusion sequence.
Once activating the teleporters, the body stepped inside the other pod, allowing it to close behind itself.
A short timer of 10 seconds started as the body of the Freak activated the teleporters, which counted down fast as it headed to its own teleporter pod. Once inside, the timer reached closer to the '0' mark, soon to begin the fusion process and combine both itself and Zim into one being.
Defiant to the end, Zim continued to beat on the door to the teleporter pod, trying in vain to escape.
"LET ME OUT! I'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT! YOU CAN TAKE GIR! HE'LL MAKE YOU ALL THE WAFFLES YOU WANT! JUST FEED HIM PIZZA AND CHOCOLATE SHAKES! HE'LL BE STUPID AND LOYAL TO YOU UNTIL THE END!" Zim screamed.
The barter went unheard and disregarded by the body of the Freak, leaving the teleporter sequence to commence.
In mere seconds, both Zim and the body of the Freak were analyzed and broken down to their most basic atoms and molecules, decoded into programs and sequences for the computer to recreate. Its job is not to recreate the two as they were, but instead find out how to combine these drastically different DNA sequences with one another, creating a new, complete sequence that bred a new creature.
And, within as much time as it took to break down the two beings, the computer did just that.
The third teleporter pod opened, blowing out a fog from within. Its sole audience of GIR, previously standing about uninterested and distracted, looked on with his full attention, observing firsthand what would come out of the pod. For once in its life, it seemed less concerned with whatever ludicrous needs it arbitrarily held at that moment, and instead on what became of his master.
"Master? Master Zim?" GIR asked.
[Soundtrack Cue: KMFDM - Dogma]
What finally came out from the pod was neither Zim nor the body of the Freak, but instead a new creature, with new desires.
Its face was still unmistakably like that of an Irken's, but its body stood tall as a human being, requiring it to carefully crawl itself out of the pod. Standing up straight, its full size could be seen, leaving GIR to look up in amazement as he gained first eyes on the new form of his master.
Though recognizable as Zim in shape, there still stood several differences apart from his height.
Its body was human-like and fitly muscular in tone, as if some middle ground between an Irken's thin build and a human's thick build. The two antennae that protruded from his head were extended, reaching well behind his head. Looking to its own hands, it observed that its hands were human, but had fingers that were sharp, like an Irken's own pointy fingers.
Looking about, the new creature seemed to study its surroundings, as if being in them for the first time. Where the Zim of old would look on without concern or care, perhaps even neglect, this being had a previously unseen sense of wonder and curiosity, distinctly making it different in mind than that of Zim.
At last, the new creature spoke.
"Ah... So much different now... I can finally understand what I did not before... Power... Knowledge... Consciousness... Death. And to think... I hesitated." The creature spoke.
GIR seemed to pay no mind to the specifics of the new creature's words, speaking out only what was on his mind.
"Can we go out for tacos?" GIR asked.
The creature struck GIR in the head with the back of its hand, knocking his head clean off and destroying the unit, leaving its body to fall down inactive. The destruction of GIR was but a minor pleasure for the creature, for what it was more concerned with was the new discovery it just made:
What power it had.
"So... This power is mine now... And I am above even the Tallest... Why, then, should I take this planet for their sake? I shall instead take it for my own." The creature said.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
-
And so, we come to the future. One future, where this new creature has taken the Earth for itself. This is the world it has made of our own.
Once, the Earth was a lively and bumbling planet, with its dominant species being Homo sapiens, calling themselves 'human beings'. They were a species capable of creation and destruction alike, calling themselves good and evil however they saw fit, slowly learning to master their surroundings.
They made many mistakes along the way to civilization, and continued to make many mistakes after that, but there was still an undeniable sense of kinship and love that existed below the many differences that their species faced, and, for every one of them who would try to exploit those differences, there were those who would try to reconcile them.
They were once a thriving species.
Now, they are an endangered one.
On a desolate, destroyed city that has lost its name, there are some remnants of the species that once planted its seeds here before they were uprooted.
Skeletons litter the ground, dry and decomposing from the bodies they once were part of.
The sky is dark red, no longer allowing the sun to give its warm light on the planet to comfort its creatures.
The roads are cracked and grey, with no one going up and down them to continue the flow of energy known as everyday life.
Buildings are dilapitated, empty as a barren womb where they once held the place of business and downtime for working people.
No life is to be found.
The downfall of the human race has been predicted and foretold in many forms before:
Paul Verhoeven predicted it would be by authoritarianism.
George Romero predicted it would be by a virus.
George Miller predicted it would be by nuclear war.
James Cameron predicted it would be by technological progression.
But all forgot the fortelling of Roland Emmerich, no matter how impossible it might have seemed to some:
It would come from beyond the stars.
It would come in the form of the Irkens.
It would come in the name of Zim.
Much of this destroyed city is desolate, save for a patrol of Irkens that comprised of ground soldiers, tanks, and ships that trek across the plains of this former city. One tank, a large walker unit, callously stomped on a collection of skeletons that belonged to a family of three, grinding them to dust under its giant robotic foot.
But this mistreatment of the dead is nothing compared to the living humans that are with them now. Several dozen humans are under their escort; they are barely clothed, emancipated, weak, and in dispair, fearing that they would have their lives ended at the slightest offense to the Irkens.
One falls over, unable to continue walking. An Irken walks up to it and kicks him, prompting him to continue.
"Get up, human slave." The Irken said.
"I can't... I am so weak... so hungry..." The human replied.
"Then you no longer serve any purpose. You will be disposed of."
The Irken drew out a firearm from a holster on its side, preparing to kill the human with prejudice. Fearfully, the human raised his hand in an attempt to plead for his life.
"No... No! Please! I have a wife!" The human screamed.
The human's last words were followed by a long, painful scream as he was vaporized into dust by the Irken's weapon. After the quick and efficient exectution, the Irken took one look at the other humans, who, once receiving his look, immediately continued on without complaint.
The aforementioned wife of the deceased human was tempted to speak up and join him in death, but stayed her tongue, deciding to keep silent.
Their journey continued to a concentration camp, set up in what was once a park in the city. It has been converted into an encampment created for the Irkens' purposes, where the once dominant species of Earth is now subservient to a new dominant force that has its own goals for the planet.
Just as Adolf Hitler, an Austrian, became leader of Germany, and Joseph Stalin, a Georgian, became leader of Russia, Zim and the Irkens have supplanted Homo sapiens as the strongest and dominant creatures, acheiving their status by the same way that humans often mistakenly fell into:
Might makes right.
As the humans entered the concentration camp, they were instantly reminded of the superiority of Zim by several banners sporting the Irken Empire symbol, as well as propoganda posters featuring Zim with sayings like 'KNEEL BEFORE ZIM' and 'IRKENS ARE SUPERIOR, HUMANS ARE INFERIOR' to drive the sentiment deep into the minds of the captured humans to remind them of their place.
However, it does not prevent some humans from becoming guards alongside the Irkens, who stay true to their jobs as they lead their fellow man to subjugation.
Once arriving in the concentration camp, an Irken officer approached the prisoners, carefully examining them one by one as he casually passed them by. Taking note of the amount of prisoners brought in, he took inventory of them on a digital device, ensuring that all were accounted for.
"[Send the males to the labor sector. Females will be sent to the breeding pens.]" The Irken officer said in his native language.
Many attempts at protests came about from the prisoners, male and female alike. The males attempted to fight back against the Irkens to defend their wives, daughters, and honor of the opposite sex, where the females pleaded for mercy and hoped not to be wisked away to be subjected to their worst fears.
The protests all failed, male and female alike; the males were sent off to work hard labor for the Irken Empire, being assigned posts to build more weapons for the Empire, or be shipped off to mines to harvest more elements and materials to build their weapons with.
The females, stripped of their clothes by the guards, were thrown into a mass shower, where sanitizing liquids were sprayed on their denuded bodies as to prepare them for their repurposed uses. The sudden burst of liquids scared the females and made them cling to one another for support, only to find some reprieve in knowing that the liquids that soaked them were harmless.
It is a small feeling of calm, but it is merely a calm before a greater trouble.
When a set of doors opened to the exit of the showers, the females left to find themselves moved to another room, where they quickly realized that they were not alone. Accompanying them in the room were the human traitors that served the Irken Empire, looking back on them with lust and violence.
If there were any question as to how one might betray their own species, it seeems that it returns to the idea that any human has its price on changing their beliefs. Charging towards the females, the human traitors ran to take their rewards for their service to the Irken Empire, and make use of their seeds to continue to serve them again.
None of the females screamed so much as the one whose husband was murdered, making her violation an even greater shame on herself.
-
This place, this concentration camp, it is a sight that is too familiar from the worst corners of humanity, but it cannot be fully perceived just how evil it is unless it is seen from the inside. There are many who enter to never return, but there are a very, very rare few who manage to escape.
This is how information comes to the human resistance, those humans who are still free and able to fight back against their oppressors, who wish to see Earth free again.
Watching from afar, several rebel fighters look on this blight upon the Earth, and, with disgust in their hearts for the place, prepare to attack. Preparing to lead the battle was a man named Gerald Johanssen, known in his younger years as the superhero G-Funk of the Hillwood Heroes.
His glorious attire has grown dusty and moldy after many years, but his skills and weapon have not yet failed him, so he vows before this attack.
"Remember your positions. Heavies and tanker units are the main priority. After that is when we deal with the ground soldiers. Anything other than that's a death trap. On me, we move." G-Funk said.
The resistance began sneaking through various destroyed buildings and pockets of dirt and overgrowth, moving towards the concentration camp, carefully sneaking their way across to make their way inside it. Evading past the view of guards in towers and points of entry, the resistance reached a wall outside the camp.
Taking his sonic fork to the wall, G-Funk's weapon emitted a low frequency around one metal panel, loosening it from the wall.
Within seconds, enough to take precious time away from the group to risk detection, the panel came loose, allowing the group a way inside. Guiding his troops along, G-Funk urged his own soldiers forward first, until coming in behind them once everyone else was inside.
Sneaking into the concentration camp, the resistance continued to sneak through the camp in search of the labor sector.
"Alright, labor section should be this way. We make our way in, attack the biggest thing there, and urge the prisoners to fight on with us. With numbers on our side, we should be able to take this place no problem." G-Funk said.
Continuing to sneak past Irken guards and surveillance, the resistance fighters slowly and carefully made their way to the labor sector, finding countless men working hard at Irken gunpoint to produce them more weapons of war. Despite the jobs they were assigned consisting of heavy labor work, they appeared weak and overworked, in despair with signs of malnourishment settling in.
Taking note of all the Irken guards present, G-Funk ordered his troops to silently assassinate them.
"Take them out. Do it quiet." G-Funk whispered.
And take them out silently they did: The resistance fighters, drawing out knives and blunt objects, snuck up behind the Irken guards, grabbing them by the mouths as not to let them cry out for help. Those with knives slit the throats of the Irkens, letting their purple blood spill across the ground, and those with blunt objects struck their PAKs, their computerized brains, smashing them beyond repair.
The takedown is silent and swift, and a good start to the rescue...
"Alright, everyone. We're the Freemen. We're here to help you. Grab whatever you can as a weapon and come with us. We're getting you out of here." G-Funk said.
...but came to a screeching halt with a complete lack of reaction from the freed prisoners. Despite being given a clear and obvious opportunity for freedom presented to them, the prisoners seemed not to care at all about the effort the Freemen did for them, looking back with indifference.
G-Funk, conversely, responded with anger and frustration.
"What's wrong with you? C'mon, we're getting you out of here! Let's go!" G-Funk commanded.
"What's the point? There's nowhere on Earth we can go. The Irkens are everywhere. Zim is everywhere. We have no hope. We're doomed." A prisoner said.
"You will be if you believe that, and Zim's made you believe that. But we're here, and we say otherwise. We got this far to get you out, now let's get you out. We have to go for the women next."
"We're not going to make it. The Irkens might already kill us for what you just did." Another prisoner said.
"Then you might as well go out with a bang against these bugs. If you don't have anything to lose, why not fight?"
"We can't fight anymore. We can barely hold ourselves up, much less work. The Irkens castrated half of us when we were ruled out for breeding. We're already dead. At least the Irkens would give us a quick death." A different prisoner said.
"Come on, damn you! We didn't come this far to lose, now, you are gonna get out of here with us! We're all in this together, as a race! The human race! There are hundreds more people like you out there, in the same place as you, who'd give anything to have the chance you have now! This is our planet! We have to take it back, one way or another!"
G-Funk's rallying cry is noble and heartfelt for any human before him to rise up and fight, but not only is it not effective on the humans present...
...it is also heard by an approaching Irken guard. Vaguely hearing voices not belonging to his fellow conquerors nearby, his investigation has led him to look and find G-Funk and his Freemen trying to rally the humans to fight with him, and achieving no success whatsoever in the task.
But it is a pristine opportunity to strike, as he prepared his weapon to do.
"Look out, sir!" A Freeman shouted.
Jumping to the defense of G-Funk, a Freeman pushed him to the ground, sending them both out of the way of the Irken's line of fire. Drawing his own firearm, he shot at the Irken, gunning down the alien in retaliation for his attack. It is a swift move that saved G-Funk and a close call that was made, but there is another chance in developments that complicate the mission:
An alarm was set off in the camp, notifiying all Irkens in the area of the intruders.
"Shit! We're blown! Now what?" A Freeman asked.
"Only thing we can do. We fight." G-Funk said.
The Freemen prepared to leave the labor sector, keeping their weapons raised high and ready to attack. The immediate blitz that the resistance fighers pulled was an effective response to the scrambled and paniced response of the Irkens within, allowing the fighters a chance to put up an effective first strike.
And they waste no time in taking it.
[Soundtrack Cue: Zack de la Rocha - We Want It All]
Running out, guns ablaze, the Freemen fired on any and all Irkens that stood in their way, downing several in a surprise attack that they seized full advantage of. Once downing the Irkens standing in their way, the Freemen quickly ran for cover, ensuring that the counter-attack the Irkens put up would not seize them an easy deterrence.
The fight then quickly turned to a deadlock of two sides firing at each other, each standing behind cover to avoid enemy fire. Ground troops can make no progress in the battle, leaving the skirmish to be no more than mutual exchange of fire that goes nowhere but into walls and cover.
But the Irkens have not only numbers on their side, but also superior firepower. As the Irken ground troops kept the Freemen at bay, several mechs and heavier artillery began rolling in, coming in the form of large walker tanks, and air support from airships, all firing down on the Freemen.
The Freemen stand no chance against the heavier firepower; many were shot and disintegrated in an instant by the enemy mechs, leaving the rest to fall back and retreat. The quick loss of numbers does little to deter the Freemen, and their willingness to continue is a testament unto their strength and courage.
But G-Funk must take leave of his leadership of them, and head off to his other objective.
"You guys do what you can. I'll go free the women." G-Funk said.
Even without G-Funk to lead them on, the Freemen do not lose track of their mission nor their drive. Dedicated to the destruction of the Irken race, to see their invader and oppressors cast off the planet, they march on, continuing to fight back against the clear and present danger before them.
Running along to cover, they continue to fire on the Irken ground troops, taking down several as they run. To deal with single Irkens on the ground is a task more than easy to complete, and just as easily do they come do they fall dead by human-made firearms...
...but the heavier units such as the walking tanks and airships provide the biggest problem, as G-Funk so pointed out before, and more dead Freemen continue to prove.
So, they adjust accordingly with the advice.
"Rocket units, take positions! Fire on those heavies! Everyone else, give them cover!" One Freeman shouted.
-
And as one Freeman leads his fellow freedom fighters soon to victory, G-Funk continues on his own mission to see others find the same.
As the fight was centered around the Freemen and Irkens gunning at each other, it is more than easy for a single member of either party to slip away unnoticed. It is this advantage that G-Funk takes in full, and sneaks away to the breeding pens. Even dressed in his four-color costume, obvious and attention-gaining as it was, he is able to sneak by undetected by the opposing army.
It is only when he arrives at the doors to the control tower that G-Funk is discovered, done so by a pair of Irken guards standing outside the doors to ensure that none may enter. With one human attempting to do just that, they are given a chance to fulfill their Zim-given duties and see that G-Funk does not succeed.
But with a blast of weaponized sound coming from G-Funk's sonic fork, the Irkens fail this chance and their duties, forced back against a wall to have their PAKs smashed against it, destroying their brains and leaving all conscious life from their bodies, making them no longer a threat.
Walking past the doors, G-Funk moved inside, still focused on his mission and unwilling to be stopped by anything.
-
His dedication is matched by the Freemen he bravely led here, who continue to fight back against the Irkens without pause or hesitation.
As their rocket-launcher wielding troops took their place to fire, the Freemen carefully selected their targets, ensuring that any vulnerable spot of the enemy would be struck. More importantly, they also stayed their fingers from the triggers of their weapons, planning a synchronous attack that would ensure the Irken enemy would not have time to react nor respond to their strike.
Once all rocketeers aimed their weapons, there was a call of...
"NOW!" One Freeman shouted.
...urging the Freemen rocketeers to fire.
All at once do their missiles fly towards their respective targets, heading for the legs of the walker tanks, and towards the jets of the aircraft.
And all at once do they hit, demolishing alien metal and technology in a firey blaze. The mechanical tanks, devoid of one of the two legs keeping their bipedal forms afloat, collapsed to the ground instantly. The airships, unable to stay in the air, fell to the ground in a crash, raining fire on wherever they landed.
To the poor luck of the Irkens ground troops, many of these ships landed atop them, eliminating yet more enemies of the Freemen.
Once again being given a greater advantage, the Freemen continued on forward, fighting back against what Irken guards remained, pushing on to achieve their victory in the camp. One by one do the Irken ground troops fall, and further and further up do the Freeman advance, leaving many aliens dead in their wake.
During their advance, the male slaves that they sought to free had began wandering some distance behind, watching the Freemen advance on and even defeat the enemy. Watching them fight so hard and gain broad strokes of victory, their previous nihilism and defeatism had began to erode at the sight of the Freemen fighting on.
And they also begin to rethink what actions they will take next.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
-
Advancing up to the Irken guard tower of the concentration camp, G-Funk bursted into the main quarters, firing his sonic fork at the Irkens within. Instantly they are downed by his hand, and he has reached his objective without incident. Approaching the controls to the camp, he observes the means of freeing the prisoners in the camp, the main doors to the camp and those to the breeding pens, and he reaches out to press them.
A laser blast reaches the window in front of him, prompting G-Funk to turn around, facing an Irken aiming his weapon on him.
"Away from the controls, human. And drop your weapon." The Irken said.
Following the Irken's command, G-Funk slowly raised his sonic fork into the air, walking towards him at an even slower pace. The approach was one meant to show caution and make an attempt at peace, hopefully tempting the Irken to lower his guard against him.
"Drop the weapon. Do not continue forward until you do." The Irken commanded.
Continuing to raise his sonic fork in the air, G-Funk at last let it fall to the ground, opening his fingers to let it go as the Irken ordered.
But rather than let it hit the ground, G-Funk dove to the ground going back after his sonic fork and grabbing it again. Just as the Irken fired at him for his offense, G-Funk fired at the Irken, killing him in an instantaneous blast of sound. Once again, he has seized his objective...
...however, he has not done so without fault. In trying to avoid the blast from the Irken's laser, it had managed to hit his side, damaging several of his vital organs.
Nonetheless, even though the pain was great enough to keep him on the ground, G-Funk slowly crawled his way back up to the controls, reaching for the means to let open the main doors to the concentration camp, as well as the breeding pens where the females were being held.
Pressing the button to open one, his hand shakily reached for the other, completing his objective.
-
The female slaves, disinfected moments within entering the camp, were accosted by the human traitors as soon as they came, forced to be objects of sexual use to those who swore off humanity in favor of serving their Irken masters. Trapped in the breeding pens, they were damned to a life to fulfill the lust of warmongering human traitors, and bear their children to breed more slaves and traitors alike.
To their miraculous surprise, the walls to the breeding pens began to open, creating an exit to the pasture of perversion they were cast on. Alas, their subjugation to the human traitors make any escape impossible, forcing them to only be able to look at their salvation without being able to reach it.
But what else they see gives them that salvation soon.
The male slaves, retrieving weapons for themselves, whether they be blunt objects or blades or Irken lasers, began approaching the tratiors with rage, preparing to retaliate for the treatment of their women. The human traitors, moments ago preoccupied with their women, now turned their attention to the more pressing matter, immediately scrambling for their weapons.
Those male slaves with Irken lasers began firing on the traitors, while those with melee weapons personally rushed and assaulted the traitors, beating them down and ending the lives they wasted by pledging allegiance to an invasive species of Earth and betraying their own kind, in more ways than one.
When the violence had come to an end, the males began shedding what clothing they have to clothe the naked females, and looting clothing from the human traitors if theirs were not enough to give them their dignity back. It is a kind gesture that they are given, and, for once, they are given support and hope to feel human again.
And with the feeling of being human also comes the desire for freedom, which they take full advantage of upon seeing the open gates to the concentration camp. Whether they have been in this camp for mere days or long years, they all crave freedom just the same, ready to be whisked away like waking from a bad dream.
The Freemen accompany the fleeing slaves, leaving behind the concentration camp in an exodus.
Having completed his mission, G-Funk feels no need to join them, choosing instead to stay in the tower and watch the flight from afar. Feeling his wound start to grow numb, along with the rest of his body, he knows that his time on Earth is soon to be up, and he wishes no more than to enjoy the fruits of the labor he has put in, seeing his fellow man and woman be free.
But just as one Exodus was proved to be a lie by objective reality, this one is proven much of the same. The sound of airships began to fill the air, putting the escaping human herd to a stop in fear. What crippled them to a stop in fear soon turned to panic and chaos, making what was once a pack of human beings split apart and run all about for their lives, for coming into view was the instruments of their death.
A large flight of Irken airships, alongside many smaller hovercrafts piloted by sole Irkens, all flew towards them, coming with one mission:
If they cannot have the lives of their slaves, no one may have them, not even the slaves themselves.
Flying in with coordinated and calculated fury, the Irkens began gunning down many of the humans, disintegrating them into dust with every shot fired. Those who could not move quickly to cover, such as pregnant women and the elderly, were the first to die, reduced to ashes with every shot fired.
Those with weapons attempted to fight back, a brave attempt against the many gunships and enemies, but one that was ultimately pointless save for a last grasp at glory. Freemen and freed slaves alike fired at the airships and hovercrafts, aiming to take as many opponents with them as possible.
Some on the smaller, personal crafts are indeed struck down, but the majority still managed to gun them down, snuffing out what resistance was put up.
And G-Funk, forced to watch both his own troops and the people he tried to save die so quickly and mercilessly, cried in defeat.
Once eliminating the humans who attempted to flee, the Irkens turned their attention back to the concentration camp, in search for any remaining resistance fighters or Irkens alike. They find nothing of the sort of either, managing only to locate various bodies from both sides...
...but their search eventually comes to the control tower, where they find the dying G-Funk. Watching him start to die on the floor, his face sunken with a lack of emotion, feeling so much defeat and loss that his mind could barely function, the Irkens felt no need to even hold their weapons on him, knowing that he would soon be gone.
One Irken approached G-Funk, not to speak with him personally, but instead laid down a small device by his feet. The device then projected a series of lasers and lights into the air, all of which came together to form a holographic image. What the image had shown was a live-feed communication of the leader of the Irken Empire, and the sworn enemy of the human race.
Disgusted by the very sight of him, G-Funk looked back in rage.
"Zim." G-Funk snarled.
"Gerald Johannsen. The last of the Hillwood Heroes, and loyal soldier to the Freeman. You've caused quite a bit of trouble in my slave camp, but not good enough. It was amusing, watching you try to escape with your fellow humans, but it was ultimately not to be. I decided it would not be of any liking to me." Zim said.
The implications left in Zim's voice made G-Funk look back in confusion, holding back a feeling of shock in what laid under those implications.
"'Watched us'? You mean...?" G-Funk asked.
"That I could have crushed your attempt at freeing the slaves anytime I wanted? That I chose to let it happen for my own personal amusement? Why, yes, that is indeed what I see, I've gotten quite a bit of a bore since I've held control of your little planet. How long have I held it? How many years? 3? 5? 10? 15? Not important. But what is important to me is just how much of a chore this has become. I have crushed 100,000 planets' governments in my rule, bending them to the knee of the Irken Empire, but, much like one of your own great conquerors, I have no more worlds to conquer. All I have is you, my loyal subjects. Or, in some cases, disloyal, as it were. I could just kill all of you at once, but where's the fun in that? Then I'm left with no one else to play with. I can't have any fun that way. That's the only reason I've let your 'Freemen' have any agency or fun at all. This was a minor diversion, but not a great one. What's made it mostly worth it is the feeling that you're giving me right now. That cold, dark sense of defeat. Having the rug ripped out from under you. Having defeat snatched from the jaws of victory." Zim said.
As Zim confirmed the worst suspicions that G-Funk began to fester, he laughed at the overwhelming despair that grew on his face, lightly laughing in delight.
"Ah... Yes... Despair... Sweet, delicious despair... It's been quite awhile before I felt it that well. Thank you, Gerald Johannsen, for the great show. It's been tedious, having to repeat this for the... Oh, who knows how many times, whenever I'd finish one of you off. Right before I watch you die. Irkens. Kill him. I'm not feeling fancy, just shoot him." Zim said.
The Irkens then drew out their laser weapons, aiming them at G-Funk to fire, but not before he spoke out the call of the Freemen, defiant until the end.
"Earth... shall... overcome... Death... to Zim." G-Funk groaned.
Then, the Irkens opened fire.
Gerald Johannsen is dead.
"That's that, then." Zim said.
"Shall we rebuilt the infrastructure of this camp and import in new slaves, Imperator Zim?" An Irken asked.
"No, I grew bored with this place. Blow it up. Actually, no, just leave it to rot. I'll need something slow and steady to appreciate instead. Explosions get so boring after the first few you see."
"What would you have us do, then, Imperator Zim?"
"Well... I've been thinking. This little bit of scrapping with the human resistance, these Freemen, has been quite fun, but I'm honestly just getting bored with their existence now. I've skewered Otto Rocket with all his organs stacked in alphabetical order, more than one alphabet, that is, thrown Rudy Tabootie into a black hole and let dogs eat his wife, ripped out the heads of that entire Loud clan through their rectums and thrown them across space, but fighting the Freemen ultimately does nothing for me anymore. They bore me."
"So I shall order a strike on their home base? We can finish their rebellion once and for all?"
The idea bounced around in Zim's head for a brief period, allowing him the time to contemplate the suggestion to decide if he liked it enough or not. To have a certain end come to what was meant to be his primary opposition on the planet, to have no longer a resistance against him, is one that he is unsure would bring him relief or more boredom, leaving him forced to decide how useful they were to him.
Ultimately, he decided to side with his subordinate.
"Ah, yes. That shall be acceptable. A grand finale to this human spirit nonsense. I like to play with things awhile... before annihilation. So give me a good show." Zim said.
-
And though it is known upon the Irkens themselves where the base of the Freemen is, where is it known to us?
To us, it is known as an abandoned military base, where countless numbers of humans have foudn shelter. Those who cannot fight are there to be protected, sheltered off against the alien hellscape that the invaders have made for the planet. Those that can fight are Freemen, human beings who have sworn to see their home planet free from the alien oppression it was under.
Countlessly and thanklessly they carry out their duties; they check their weapons and press their own bullets, they gather intelligence on their enemy and plan their next attacks, and they train whoever is in fighting shape to do just that, and ensure that they have a future ahead of themselves as a species.
Those who lead them is an aged man, once known as one of the greatest heroes the Earth has ever known.
He was once known as the Green Eye.
Here, he is now and forevermore Arnold Shortman.
Just as he desires never to be known by the Green Eye again, it is also his greatest goal to see the day where he is no longer needed to lead the people of Earth to fight. He is greeted by several soldiers and gives orders to several more, once again given evidence as to his irreplaceable role in the Freemen, just as he tries to take a stroll about the base and contemplate all that has transpired since the coming of Zim.
Because, on this day, he has a means to ensure that day never comes.
His walk has led him to a certain sector of the base which houses various scientific equipment and workers about, all constructing what would serve to be the means of achieving that goal. The construct was a large, portal-like device, attached to various computers and electronics to power and calculate it to serve its purpose.
As he looked on it, a Freeman approached Arnold to bring him news.
"Sir, we have reports coming in about our camp raid. Our efforts have failed. All the prisoners are dead, as are the Freemen troops who were sent in. Including Johannsen." The Freeman said.
Hearing of the loss of his life-long friend, Arnold lowered his head and closed his eyes, letting out a pained sigh as he heard.
"Every one of them? Even Gerald?" Arnold asked.
"Yes, sir. It appears that the Irkens set a trap. No one survived." The Freeman said.
"I see. Thank you for bringing me this news. I'm sorry we couldn't have seen this coming."
"Also, sir, they're waiting for you on the bridge."
"Thank you. I'll be right there."
As the Freeman departed, Arnold looked back to the portal-like device one last time, closing his eyes and sighing as he walked away.
And as Arnold departed for the bridge for a meeting, he made a detour towards a laboratory that housed a crucial part of said meeting. Entering a part of the base closed off to most Freemen, he, utilizing a security card reprogrammed for himself and a select few, opened the door to the lab and stepped inside.
Upon entering, he found its sole scientist, a woman named Nora Wakeman, at work on a personalized robotics project, putting the finishing touches on it with blue paint.
"Wakeman. We're ready. Is she?" Arnold asked.
"Oh, ready as she'll ever be, I hope." Nora said.
"I'm ready for this, Mrs. Wakeman, don't worry about me. You've been working so hard to make sure that this works." A voice said.
A dash of confidence came over Nora Wakeman, leading her to smile in return.
"Dear me, I told you, you don't have to call me that. You can call me 'mom'." Nora said.
-
Arnold's departure led him to a discussion room with several others, all contemplating the use of the device. Among the others in the room were Carlos Tabootie, adopted son of Rudy Tabootie turned Zoner, Sam and Reggie Dullard, the married technicians who developed gravity-based weapons, a quiet, Asian man who called himself 'The Avatar', Lynn Loud Jr., the last surviving member of the Loud family...
...and accompanying the Arnold himself was Nora Wakeman, a recent addition to the counsel that had a special contribution to offer.
"Hey Arnold. Just another discussion of how we're going to delay the inevitable of our whole species, huh?" Lynn asked.
"Be more respectful to Arnold. He's kept us alive so far." Carlos interjected.
"It's alright. I don't expect anybody to be in good spirits these days, or if they need to find some humor in order to get through the things we need to get through. What matters is the important work that we're doing here and now." Arnold said.
"And, more importantly, we've think we've finally done it. We finally cracked the code." Sam said.
The counsel all sat in silence at the news, each taking their time to process its full ramifications.
"Time travel. You think you really managed to crack time travel?" Lynn asked.
"It took a lot of work from the notes of Lisa, Membrane, the Fentons, and Irken technology, but we managed to get it." Reggie said.
"Or so you think."
"Admittedly, I never was a qualified scientist in the first place, but I just know how to look at what works, and take it from there. And it does help having some people who're actually, or at least used to be, qualified scientists to back up my work and do the harder parts for me." Sam said.
"Have more faith in your abilities, Samuel. You spent many years of your life teaching yourself. The archer who shoots for the moon may not reach the moon, but his efforts can make him the best archer in the world." The Avatar said.
"But we're the people actually shooting for the moon. We need to make it, or else this all means nothing." Lynn said.
"You know, kid, the negative attitude isn't helping anything around here. This may be our only chance to save the Earth." Reggie said.
"No, she's right. We don't have any clue if this'll actually work. How many raids have we done across the globe trying to get the parts we need just to make this thing work?" Sam asked.
"And how many lives were spent in trying to get them? Sam, we all trust you. We know you did the work. There's no time or place here for self-doubts. What matters is that we don't let the lives that've been spent on this die in vain." Arnold said.
The table went silent out of respect for the lives that had paid for the work done here, reflecting on the sacrifices that were made.
"Okay. So the machine works. In theory, but at least a theory is the closest thing to fact in the world of science. But there's still a few other implications we need to think about. Even if we could send someone back in time, it might not do anything at all." Sam said.
"What does that mean? How could it not do anything?" Lynn asked.
"I mean, anything to this specific timeline. It isn't like the movies or comic books where you can just jump back and forth through time anyway you like. There's a lot of quantum factors that work into it. For instance, there's the air in your body. The air you breathe existed in the past at some point, and it carries with you through your lungs until you get to the past. Then suppose you get back, and you're breathing in air from the past, taking it to the future. You might not have intentionally done it, but you displaced matter that isn't supposed to be there, matter that effects the greater time stream itself, and could possibly create a time paradox. Matter cannot be created or destroyed, and it can't be collected back to be put back again."
"So, just breathe out before you get there. Easy fix."
"There's also other factors as well. The human body sheds thousands of cells on a daily basis. When you scratch an itch, pull out a hair, leave a drop of blood, that's all comprised of matter that doesn't belong in that timeline, and shouldn't exist in that form yet. Of course, this is all just assuming it'll even put us in the same timestream. To account for all the other factors I just mentioned, the only way the universe could possibly survive having any change like that occurring in its finite amount of matter would be to split into a new timeline altogether."
"An alternate reality." Carlos said.
"We have taken into account what Sam has said. It is possible that sending a human being back might cause more problems than it would solve, assuming that we live in a singular time stream, and we don't have to worry about alternate universes. That's where this young lady comes in." Arnold said.
The woman named Nora Wakeman cleared her throat, introducing herself to the group in an awkward manner.
"H-Hello. I've only been part of this project for awhile, but I think I have something that can manage to help. I was the head of the Armagedroid project; I have experience in the fields of robotics and artificial intelligence. When Mr. Shortman explained to me the complications of time travel and what effects a human being could have on the space-time continuum, I was elected to seek an alternative means of breaching space-time. In addition to my past experience, I've also taken to examining and experimenting with Irken technology. In recent months, I've had a breakthrough on a project which could have the means of giving us the-" Nora tried to say.
"Look, lady. We appreciate the effort, but we're short on time. You mind getting to the point?" Lynn asked.
"Er, yes, of course. Applying my sciences with whatever we could put together, I give you... The Wakeman Model 1."
Nora then stood up from her seat, walking to a set of doors and opening them.
Revealed behind the doors was a humanoid robot, standing as tall as everyone else in the room, and making them back away in their seats at the sight of it. The machine resembled that of a teenage girl, with a white chassis and dark blue covering most of its body in decals, such as a blue pair of hands, skirt, tube top, boots, hair, and lips.
The sight of the machine made the counsel grow nervous upon seeing it, but the machine itself appeared to be nervous as well.
"Come on, now, sweetie. It's time for you everyone to meet you." Nora said.
Coming to Nora's call, the machine nervously followed her words, leaving the sound of clanking metal with each step of its feet. Walking up to the table, the counsel was given a better look at the machine, all reacting in awe and wonder at the sight of a fully-developed artificial being before their eyes.
But most surprising of all, the machine spoke, carefully raising a hand in a wave.
"Um... Hi, everyone." The machine said.
"She's fully developed mentally, as much as a human being, and is fully capable of independent thought. She's a pride and joy if I've ever had one." Nora said.
"Oh, great, you made a robot that talks. Awesome. How exactly is that supposed to help us?" Lynn asked.
"In the past, when we explored the moon and other planets, we would never first sent a human being without knowing of the consequences first. We would send a drone, a robot that can do the exploring for us. We had relied on these robots being remote-controlled, but that is a luxury that we do not have in this particular instance. That's where my experience in artificial intelligence has come in. WM-1 can be sent back with the mission of terminating Zim, and gathering the Freemen before the Irkens ever come to Earth. This will completely solve the issue of human biology interfering with the timestream."
"And, if we're lucky, perhaps even alter this very timeline so that we may never have to live in this hellscape." Arnold added.
"And that's assuming we don't just trigger a time paradox out of the whole thing. But, uh, there is also another consideration to be made out of this plan: The moral and ethical angle." Sam said.
"What's there to think about? We're gonna stop Zim and the Irkens from ever taking over the Earth, that's as moral as it gets." Lynn said.
"There's another catch to it. Consider everyone who's been born since the invasion started. Those lives aren't guaranteed to come into existence if the timestream's been altered, in fact, it's almost a guarantee that they won't exist at all. The amount of sperm and eggs that human bodies make, the circumstances in which people meet, that'll all change, and people that otherwise would've come into existence won't."
"Small price to pay. Better to not live at all than to live in a world like this." Carlos said.
"Is it? Life is a precious commodity, no matter where it may be found. What right do we have to decide whether it is preferable for them to die?" The Avatar asked.
"They won't die, they'll just never have existed. Choosing for them to die is to let them keep living here, in this world, under Zim. For him to kill. Of course, that's assuming that the timeline doesn't simply change. Even with our trying to avoid Sam's matter of matter displacement, WM-1 herself still poses that problem in just existing. Just that fact that she's a robot, and having less matter to send back with less variables, may not be enough to ensure a timestream change." Arnold said.
"Then that doesn't actually solve our problem. It means we're still stuck here, and people are still dying under Zim. What would be the point in doing all this if all it does it help a completely different universe?" Reggie asked.
"We leave behind a better one for others so they don't have to live through what we did. That's the best thing anyone can do as human beings."
The answer gave a swell of inspiration among the table, once again proving the motivational power that Arnold Shortman possessed.
"But even if we assume the worst, it looks like we may have no choice. If we do nothing, we all die, and the human race goes extinct. We have to take action, and this machine is our only hope." Arnold said.
"I'll be happy to do it. I was built for this purpose, and I'll do my best to fulfill it. It's just... I'm still new to my cognitive abilities and motor skills. I'm the equivalent of what a human newborn would be, but with a full intelligence. Of all the emotions I was given, fear and self-doubt are two that I wouldn't have asked for if I had the option." WM-1 said.
"Those emotions are just as necessary as confidence, bravery, and righteousness. Sometimes, it takes fear and self-doubt to have the pause to make sure what you're doing is right, and to overcome to show how dedicated you are to fulfilling that goal."
"True. But it won't be easy for me, doing it all alone."
"You won't be. I'll be in the past waiting for you. If you go back, and if you can stop Zim, and gather us to fight the Irkens, then you can save an entire species. You're humanity's last hope."
The WM-1 unit seemed to brighten after Arnold's words, showing that even a machine can find confidence in one of the world's greatest humans.
"Then I won't let you down, sir." WM-1 said.
"Good. It's settled, then. The WM-1 will be sent back in time, and gather the Freemen before Earth was attacked, giving us the chance to save the planet, or at least one timeline of it, from death." Arnold said.
"Agreed." The counsel said in unison.
"But that also means that the knowledge of this does not leave this room. If Zim finds out what we've done, that we've potentially created another Earth where he's been defeated, then what's to stop this Earth's Zim from trying to find it, and conquer it? Worse yet, using it to create as many Earths and universes he wants to conquer?"
"So this machine girl's gonna save the whole world, and nobody but us is gonna know about it." Reggie said.
"Exactly."
"It is a noble task which this machine shall be sent on, but we know not what the name of this machine is. If we are to be the only ones who know of her, then should we know her by another name besides a simple few letters and numbers? Should the last hope of this Earth not have a name?" The Avatar asked.
"Ah, yes, well, I thought about a name for her, but, then, I decided, since she's got a mind of her own, it would be only fair to let her decide. She is going off all on her own, of course, it seemed the least we could do for her." Nora said.
"Gee, well, it's funny. I kind of had a name in mind, but I wasn't sure if you guys would like to call me by it or not." WM-1 said.
"Oh? And what name did you think for yourself, honey? We'd love to hear it."
"Ok, well... I was kind of... thinking of... Gally."
The dramatic buildup to the revelation of the robot's name left an underwhelming silence through the counsel, making the machine self-named Gally grow nervous.
"Oh, uh, did I do something wrong? Is that not a good name?" Gally asked.
"N-No, it's, uh, it's a nice name, but... I don't know." Sam said.
"Don't know what?"
"You look more like a... 'Jenny' to us." Carlos said.
"Oh, it's funny that you bring that up. I thought about that one for a bit, but I ultimately decided against it, because I felt that-"
Then, the counsel came to a sudden and abrupt end as the sounds of alarms began to blare throughout the base, indicating an attack was underway on it. Panic and fear immediately came to the hearts of the counsel of Freemen, knowing that their time here was short...
"They're here already?" Reggie asked.
"How did they even find us?" Lynn asked.
"Matter of time. They would've found us eventually." Carlos said.
...but Arnold Shortman did not falter. Rather, he is grateful that this meeting has gone along right when it did, because it has clarified their goals.
"Then they made the best timing possible. We already know what to do. It's time to make a change. I'm going to get Gally to the time machine." Arnold said.
"What do we do?" Sam asked.
"You hold them off as long as you can with the rest of the Freemen. Buy us as much time as you can."
There is a brief concern over the fear of death with each member present, knowing that they may very well be on their way to fight a battle which they will not return from nor survive, but, keeping in mind the possibility of a new future where their troubles do not exist, that small speck of hope is enough to make them rise from their seats and prepare to fight.
As the counsel of Freemen left, Arnold led Gally to her task, moving them both along with haste, and Nora Wakeman following closely behind.
-
The Freemen of the counsel, Carlos Tabootie, Sam and Reggie Dullard, Lynn Loud, Jr., and the Avatar, rushed out from their meeting room, gathering to the entrance of their base to find the threat that approached them. With the warning sirens given off, they expected to find the invading Irkens coming in soon to attack.
And they do find this indeed, but it is far closer than 'incoming'. Their base was an underground facility, keeping it safe from the rest of the world as the danger and war unfolded above, but, not only to nearby CCTV cameras show an entire Irken army standing outside, complete with artillery and armor...
...but, with the sighting of a mounted laser being fired directly and continuously at the wall, they saw it start to melt away, soon giving away what protection they had.
Rather than allow them a chance to enter, the team chose to make a proactive approach to the situation.
"I can keep them further at bay from outside, allow you time to work through your defenses here. I can only bend outside, anyway." The Avatar said.
"Fine. I'll take you outside." Carlos said.
Taking a stick of chalk off his bandolier, Carlos drew a portal to ChalkZone, taking the Avatar along with him and closing the portal behind. Making an approximation of where the outside of the base was, Carlos drew a pair of rockets to his shoes, moving his chalk about in the air in search for a surface to draw on.
Finding his chalk strike such a place, he drew a portal back to the real world, taking the Avatar along with him. Leading the Avatar to the outside of the base, positioned just above the main door, Carlos moved back through his chalk portal, preparing to close it behind him and leave the Avatar to himself.
"Good luck." Carlos said.
Erasing the portal, Carlos returned back inside, while the Avatar took well to the last words a human being would say to him.
Digging deep into his connection with a power once thought lost through the ages, the Avatar began moving himself in a manner that most would recognize as Tai Chi, but, to the Avatar, what he does is more than a simple exercise or even a martial art, for it brings about what will be required to hold the Irkens at bay:
A storm unlike anything else.
And it is brought about by the lost art of Bending.
Moving at the command of his motions, the clouds in the sky began to darken and turn black, rumbling with anger and power. No such forecast was made or expected, leaving the Irkens to look up in surprise as the storm came in at such a sudden development in their attack.
Then, not only did it begin to rain, it began to strike thunder and lightning.
Getting hit by lightning is an event famously known to be an occasion so rare it is barely even considered as a plausible threat, even with the consequences of receiving such a strike being as deadly as they are. However, under the Avatar's direction, the lightning is not just a random occurrence to be speculated on...
...but a projectile, which he wields to fire at the Irken army.
Aiming one arm to the sky, acting as a receiver to the lightning, he aimed his other arm towards an Irken walker, using it as a sender. And send the lightning he does, firing it straight towards the mechanical tank and landing a direct hit, melting right through the metal with his shot.
Just as soon as he took aim with his next shot, downing yet another tank with the shot, the Irken army took immediate notice of the Avatar, splitting their attention away from the door and towards him. Though the small brigade kept at their work to melt down the door, the rest had little to do but wait, and their attention was now directed at a target they could hit.
Immediately did the Irkens fire on the Avatar, forcing him to raise a wall of dirt from the ground to protect himself. As his shield was raised, his use of earthbending was exchanged for airbending and waterbending, which he used to bend tornadoes and hurricanes to counterattack the Irken army with.
The weaponized weather events, more than enough to bring harm to any group of normal human beings, caused an even greater difficulty to the Irken army. Blown left and right by the strong winds, the Irkens were little more than bugs being flicked by a finger, forced back and sent flying.
The heavier units of their walkers and airships did not fare as well, either; the walkers, while having the advantage of weight on their side, were nonetheless knocked down by the sheer force of the winds, where those same strong winds also caused the airships to lose control and crash due to the sheer turbulence.
It seemed that the Irken army was falling quickly and well under the Avatar, spelling a strong victory for the humans, who cheered it on from behind the wall...
"He's doing it!" Carlos cheered.
"Whoo! Way to go, Avatar!" Reggie shouted.
"Hell, yeah! Kick ass!" Lynn yelled.
"He just might beat them all on his own! This is great!" Sam said.
-
...but there is also Imperator Zim who watches the battle from afar as well, and, though he is gaining his amusement, it is but a fleeting feeling for the alien emperor. Watching the battle be televised before him, far from any such a fight that he may have to participate in, Imperator Zim begins to desire his entertainment be changed.
"[It's been fun watching the Avatar fight, but please do speed this along. I want to see him fall and die.]" Zim said.
"[Shall I send in a mothership, Imperator Zim?]" An Irken subordinate asked.
"[Ah, yes. Let's see how well he does when he faces something that his bending can't hit.]"
-
And, outside of this abandoned military base that the Freemen have taken as their home, the Avatar basks in what victory he can get, but even that sliver hope is soon squashed. The ground itself began to rumble, not because of any earthquakes his earthbending could permit, but because of something entering the atmosphere and impacting the ground as well.
Looking up to the sky, the humans inside the base also see what comes, and fear its arrival just as much as the Avatar himself.
A massive Irken mothership had descended into the atmosphere, coming directly down over the Avatar himself. The mothership had an array of guns and weapons all across its body, all of which aimed themselves directly at the man who could bend the elements.
Summoning the lightning once again, the Avatar attempted to fire back at the guns before they could hit him, but his effort was proven futile as the guns opened fire, burying him in a massive maelstrom of lasers that no human being could survive, not even the Avatar himself.
Though invisible to the naked eye, the soul of Raava passed on from the body, seeking out its next incarnation.
The Avatar is dead.
-
Watching the Avatar swiftly killed, the Freemen fighters, seeing one of their most powerful members slain so brutally in such an overkill, lowered their heads in grief, taking a short but notable silence for their fallen comrade. They already know that they have no chance of surviving this battle, but, seeing the first of their casualties, this is a reality that they have not fully grappled with until faced with this sight.
Nonetheless, they know that their own mission is more important than any of their lives, so they do not waste too much time on mourning, with Carlos taking initiative. Taking a piece of chalk out from his bandolier, he began drawing as many weapons as he could think of, creating preventative measures such as automatic turrets and landmines.
"You all get back. I'll try to set up another barrier. Hold back as many Irkens as I can. You'll be the next ones to fight." Carlos said.
Following his instructions, the other Freemen began heading back, allowing themselves to pick a battle position and work from it.
-
While the battle was preparing itself above, the preparations for sending Gally back to the past were well underway, with both Arnold and Nora quickly but carefully working to ensure that their time machine was fully functional, and seeing that Gally was prepared for the journey as well.
As Nora completed a diagnostics check on the time machine, Arnold assisted Gally with her own self-diagnostics, ensuring that she would be sufficient on her own.
"You have all your weapons systems functioning?" Arnold asked.
"Check." Gally said.
"Communications arrays and GPS linkups?"
"Check."
"Power source and recharging apparatuses?"
"Check."
"Good. Remember: When you get back in time, you'll be on your own. At least until you can find me. But it won't be easy. I was a very different person back where you're going. I was going through a bad time, and I cut myself off from the world. Your mission is to get to San Lorenzo, brief me of the situation, and tell me who else to find."
"How am I going to give you proof?"
"You record everything you see, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll give you some to use right now. Look at me."
Keeping her focus on Arnold, Gally watched as he knelt down, keeping himself eye-to-eye at the sitting gynoid. Taking a deep breath, Arnold let it out before his speech.
"Hey Arnold... I know things aren't that good right now. I know how you feel. That you failed everyone, and that you shouldn't be trying to help anymore. Like nothing matters. I can tell you that you're wrong. That what you did made a difference. And you can make more of a difference if you try again. You just forgot how to see people. How you used to see them. People can be great. You just have to show them how to be, to make them want to be. They just need a light to lead them there. Just like you needed a light long ago. You still have it in you, Arnold. You didn't lose it. You can be a force to unite. Remember these names: Danny Fenton. Otto Rocket. Rudy Tabootie. Lincoln Loud. Unite them, and take down Zim before he can create this nightmare of a world, and fight the Irken invasion. Bring them together, Arnold. You're the world's only hope."
Standing up, Arnold marked a conclusion to his speech, prompting Gally to stop recording. The speech is one rousing enough even to make a machine cry, which, if Gally had her own tear ducts, would engage in now. Her expression of empathy is enough to make her feelings clear, but her voice also makes others known as well.
"Are you sure it's going to work?" Gally asked.
"No, I'm not sure. But it's all we can do. It's our best chance at survival to do this." Arnold said.
"But I'm worried."
"Don't be. Even if I don't believe it, there might be someone else to fill the role."
"No, I mean, I'm worried about you. Here, in the present. And my mom. And everyone."
"We were already doomed when Zim took over. This outcome was inevitable for us. Now, we're just making the last action we have to make."
As Arnold reassured Gally, Nora discreetly stepped away from the time machine to inspect another important item necessary to their plan. Covered away under a drape was a device crucial to the plan, but one that was not disclosed with any other Freeman to ensure that there would be no protest or panic that came with it.
The device was a nuclear bomb.
-
[Soundtrack Cue: Megadeth - Set the World Afire]
The walls to the abandoned military base claimed by the Freemen had served well against any threats or invaders, but they serve that purpose no longer today.
Successfully melting through the wall, the Irkens began to move through the now-destroyed wall, charging in with weapons high and ready to open fire. Upon entering, they expected to see helpless human beings sitting in wait for their destruction, scrambling in panic, as a result built up from years of unopposed slaughter.
But the formerly human Zoner named Carlos Tabootie broke this illusion with ease.
Standing in between the Irken army and the Freemen inside was not only Carlos Tabootie himself, but a wide array of automatic gun turrets, landmines, barbed wire, a moat of alligators, and other assorted obstacles to ensure that the Irkens would perish before they could advance.
However, this did not stop the Irken army from advancing. Loyal and dedicated to the Imperator named Zim, and almost completely devoid of individuality, the Irkens pushed to move through the war zone, attempting to deplete the resources put between them and the Freemen.
This approach, bullheaded and stubborn, is one that an army of their numbers is more than capable of exercising, but the numbers they have do decrease as they try this approach. Many Irkens are immediately shot down by the guns, but a few manage to evade the gunfire and make their way under, moving under the bodies of their fallen comrades to reach their objective.
Those who try this approach are blasted to pieces by landmines or caught in barbed wire, or dragged down and mauled by the alligators. Despite their many attempts to get through the barrage, the Irkens made no progress in trying to breach through, making their attempts a fool's errand.
-
Once again, this is all but a form of entertainment for Zim. He is more than content to send his own subjects to die; their lives are no different to him than a resource, and a means to an end to be used solely for him and whatever he desires. An intergalactic Caligula, the universe is but a show for him.
And the only show he enjoys is the show of blood.
He receives plenty of it in this showing of strength by the Irken army, but the show, having gone on for a long while with great repetition, begins to bore him. He desires once again to see a change in scenery, and craves to watch yet another human die at his command.
"How many of our own have died now?" Zim asked.
"About 1,200 and counting, Imperator Zim." An Irken subordinate said.
"And the soldiers are all properly programmed and drugged?"
"Yes, Imperator Zim."
"I see. Let them use water on the chalk boy. I want to see him gone now."
"As you command, Imperator Zim."
-
And so it is spoken, so it is done; the Irkens retreat from their assault and no longer needlessly sacrifice their numbers, instead taking the new approach to eliminate Carlos and wipe out his defenses. Carlos himself is not aware of their strategy, and looks on with confusion as his enemies go back as quickly as they came. He feels a temptation to believe that he has warded them off alone, but reason and logic tell him otherwise...
...and, seeing a massive hose being brought to the door, he realizes that those defensive instincts were correct.
Having willingly taken his life in ChalkZone long ago, his sacrifice was done for the purpose of gaining the powers his adoptive father had, being able to draw in the real world as he were in ChalkZone, a being existing in both the 2nd and 3rd dimensions. But what made his father different from him was the power of the Golden Chalk, which made his body real flesh and blood just as he kept the power.
But the Golden Chalk was long gone out of human hands, leaving him a normal Zoner, and still susceptible to be harmed by water.
Unleashing a rush of water from the hose, the Irkens began flooding the floor of the military base, using it to erase Carlos. The process of erasure that took place for Carlos was slow, merely eating at his feet, but the continuous flow of water soon made the rest of the floor wet and dangerous, leaving him with little room left to move.
His first instinct is to turn and run away, trying to give himself the means to escape his watery fate. In doing so, however, his legs began to erase to the point where balancing himself was no longer possible, and he collapsed to the floor, saving himself only by propping himself up with his hands.
But this, in turn, made his hands erase, leaving him unable to defend himself by drawing with his chalk. Still trying to reach safety, he crawled with what remained of his limbs, attempting to reach the other Freemen in the hopes that they could save him from the fate of nonexistence he would soon face.
He does not make it. He sinks into the water, soon turning it into a dirty pool of water.
Carlos Tabootie is dead.
-
Back with the time machine...
Nora continues hard at work to ensure the time machine, with Arnold helping to ensure no issues will prevent the machine from doing its intended job. Wires and circuitry are all checked and double-checked, programs and algorithms are gone through line by line, and diodes and reflectors are tested.
The process takes a long time to complete, and it makes Gally grow anxious over her own mission, and the incoming Irkens.
"Come on, mom! What's taking you so long?" Gally asked.
"We only have one shot at this, my dear. We have to make sure that we don't miss the mark." Nora said.
"But there must be something I can do to help. Can't I help you? Or fight the Irkens?"
"No. You need to be ready to go at any moment, and we especially can't have you wasting resources on the Irkens. It's a lost cause to fight them."
"But they're coming!"
The point made by Gally is an important one, and it convinces Arnold, but not to allow her to indulge in the fight. It reminds him of the problem at hand that time is running short for them, and that those fighting the Irkens have little to use against them to gain them the time they need to succeed.
Instead, it convinces him to take action himself.
"Come with me. You wanna make yourself useful? I have something you can do." Arnold said.
Gally followed Arnold with haste, leaving Nora to finish the time machine alone.
"Where are you going?" Nora asked.
"To buy you more time. I'll send her back in just a minute." Arnold said.
The brief walk the two took led them to an adjacent room with a pair of hangar doors, prompting them to open it. Stepping inside the open hangar, the two walked over to a large, tall, silver mecha suit, armed to the teeth with countless amounts of weapons, and an 'F' symbol on the front, with a green burst of ectoplasm behind it.
Arnold wasted no time to climb inside, but Gally stopped to look on it with amazement.
"What is that?" Gally asked.
"An old invention of the Fentons that we dug up. They called this thing the Ecto-Skeleton. It's a battle suit designed to enhance the abilities of whoever uses it. Part of the technology Nora used to build you came out of this, on top of the Irken tech." Arnold said.
"It looks like it's never been used before. Why?"
"There's a catch to using it. It drains the user's life life a battery. The Fentons never figured out how to give this thing a proper power source."
"But you'll die if you use it!"
"If I don't use it, I'll die anyway. I might as well take some Irkens with me. Someone like me might get some good mileage out of it, but I'm only going to get so much out of it. We were saving it for until the fat lady sings."
"Uh... I'm sorry, the what?"
"In the past, we had a saying. 'It isn't over 'til the fat lady sings'. That basically means this was to be used as a last resort. Like now."
-
Back with the Irken invasion...
Breaching into the abandoned military base which the Freemen have made their home, taking down two of their defenders in the process, the Irkens proceeded forward, keeping their guns high and ready to eradicate the humans inside. They no longer expect their attack to be an easy one, already having suffered great losses from the Freemen fighters, and stay ready to keep fighting.
Just as they are dedicated to keep fighting and killing, so are the Freemen who defend what is left of the human race, as proven by the new fighters that present themselves to the Irken army. Coming in to fight now are a trio of sports enthusiasts who make use of gravity-oriented weaponry:
Sam Dullard, Reggie Rocket, and Lynn Loud, Jr.
Flying in on a hoverboard each, they all wield different weapons developed by Sam Dullard on the technology which their hoverboards were built on, which in turn were based on Irken technology. It is a lineage of technological evolution that has been separated two generations from its progenitors, but it has now come to be put to use against the aliens who helped bring this technology to Earth.
Making full use of the flight properties that their hoverboards had, the three Freemen flew over the heads of the Irkens, staying out of their line of fire. They retrieved their own weapons, all consisting of sports equipment modified with the anti-gravitational technology that their boards were made of, weaponized for offensive purposes.
It is demonstrated when Lynn Loud takes a hockey stick with an attached anti-gravitational node and hits it against the ground, sending a gravity wave that knocks back several Irken soldiers in a forceful blast, downing several enemies with a single blow. Moving into further into the Irken army, she continued striking them with her weaponized hockey stick, blasting Irkens with enough power to crush their bodies entirely.
Sam Dullard makes a similar approach, but with gloves designed to house his anti-gravitational nodes, creating an enhancement to his punches that outmatched any set of brass knuckles. With his gloves, his punches managed to blow away Irkens just as well, but also do damage to the heavier units like the walker tanks, crushing their legs with a single blow and sending them toppling down.
Reggie Rocket's strategy is not to make a direct attack, but to provide a bombing run on the Irken army. Flying over the heads of the Irkens, she threw hockey pucks to the ground, sending them sliding into large crowds of Irkens. Upon detonation, these pucks were not anti-gravitational, but enhanced gravity, creating miniature black holes that sucked in Irkens and crushed them to condensed implosions of matter.
These guerilla attacks manage to slay several Irkens with ease, but, once again, they are but delaying the inevitable, and they will perish just as soon now. Their attacks have allowed them one last gasp at glory of fighting against the enemy, and what time they have is but borrowed, and it has run out for them all.
With her attention diverted from the larger mechs, Lynn Loud is focused mainly on the ground troops, which costs her the life she spent fighting the Irkens. One walker tank reached an arm down and picked her up, holding her in the air as though she were a toy doll, much to her protests.
Hanging her upside-down, the walker had another one join it, who reached for one of Lynn's legs. As each grabbed one, they began to pull on opposite ends.
Though athletic and fit, toning her body to stretch and be able to perform even the most difficult of acrobatic tasks, having her legs pulled to the lengths they were was a strain that even her body could not take, and, feeling the muscles and bones in her legs begin to snap, she knew would damage it permanently.
And this damage was made permanent with death as she was ripped in half like a wishbone, having her body completely ripped in half.
Lynn Loud Jr. is dead.
Sam Dullard, just as he was next in line to attack, is the next to go. Continuing to focus his fight against the larger mechs, his focus is taken away from the ground troops, who in turn are no longer under attack by Lynn Loud. Taking a laser blast to the leg, his limb was shot off in a cauterized wound, forcing him to fall down in a pained scream.
And as a walker tank leg hovered over him, his scream turned to a loud one of fear, which was then snuffed out as his body was crushed.
Sam Dullard is dead.
Now, Reggie Rocket is left alone and defenseless against the Irken army, forced to hold them back all by herself. Armed with gravity-augmenting bombs, she can take out large numbers of the troops, and does so without pause. However, a laser blast shot off her hand before it could throw another bomb, forcing her to drop it.
She tried to reach with her remaining hand to pick it up and throw it, but it ended up detonating and consuming her instead, reducing her to a condensed paste.
Reggie Rocket is dead.
Now, without any more Freemen fighters to oppose them, the Irken army continues to advance into the base. They have the objective to kill any and all humans that are found within the base, further reducing what is already an endangered species on this planet and please the Imperator Zim for his needs of violence.
Advancing in, they find many refugees and civilians, all unarmed and helpless against the army. Watching the alien invaders encroach on their safe haven, the humans cower back in fear, all pleading softly pleading for mercy, or silently hoping that it would be shown by the Irkens.
Both their approaches prove to be ineffective as the Irkens turn their weapons on the humans.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
-
Back in the hangar...
As Arnold and Gally prepare the Ecto-Skeleton, the faint sounds of lasers shooting and screaming are heard in the air, which carry on in a cacophony of carnage that give them only a faint idea of what terror is becoming of the refugees. The sound leaves just as soon as it stops, spelling an end to the lives that the Freemen worked tirelessly to save.
The horror makes Gally mourn for the organic life that helped build her, but Arnold does not allow himself to no matter how much he wishes to. Instead, he focuses once again on his mission, knowing that, should it succeed, whatever death and mayhem that happened here, both past and future, shall never come to be.
"Gally. I'm ready. Set me loose." Arnold said.
Following his orders, Gally disengaged the Ecto-Skeleton from its holding, allowing Arnold to walk out of the hangar.
"Go to your mom. The portal should be ready soon. I'll buy you as much time as I can." Arnold said.
WIthout another word or acknowledgement of Gally, Arnold advanced forward in the Ecto-Skeleton, preparing to face off against the Irken enemy.
Following Arnold's last orders, giving the football head a final glimpse, Gally rushed back to the time machine, finding it still not ready, and Nora Wakeman still hard at work on it. Knowing of the fate of both Arnold and her own mother, there is a second thought regarding the mission, brought about by, in defiance of all expectations of machines, pure emotion rather than logic.
"Mom, are you sure about this? You're gonna die. Just like Arnold's gonna die. I just know it." Gally said.
"Where you're going, honey, you won't have to worry about us. You have the chance to save us." Nora said.
"But it won't be the real you. It'll be another world, another universe. It won't be the same."
Finishing her work on the time machine's hardware, Nora took to its software, beginning to put in the coordinates and programming to send Gally back. The setting of the time coordinates read the date of July 1st, 2024, centering on the jungles of San Lorenzo, the proper time and location to find Arnold Shortman.
Once the coordinates were accepted, Nora activated the portal, which started with a dramatic show of scientific power. Several chevrons of lasers began firing at the center of a ring, coalescing to an infraction of light that breached through the space-time continuum itself to the specific destination that was set.
After a blast of energy that spewed out from both ends of the ring, the portal had opened, creating a wormhole into the past of Earth.
Once done with her work, Nora returned to Gally, facing her as a mother to answer her concerns personally.
"Gally, my dear, you won't have to worry about that. Whether in this world or another, I will always be your mother. Even if that wasn't the case, there are still people counting on you. You must go back. This is the only way." Nora said.
Gally shared a hug with Nora, and the latter gave a kiss on her artificial daughter's head.
"I wish we had more time together, mom. As a mom and daughter." Gally said.
"Perhaps in another life, my dear. But that won't happen unless you go." Nora said.
Pantomiming a sigh to express her attempt at composure, Gally walked up to the portal and looked on the abyss within, taking one last turn to her mother before departing.
"I love you, mom." Gally said.
"And I love you, my daughter." Nora said.
Activating the jets in her legs, Gally began to take flight, flying through the portal and proceeding on her mission.
Gally is no longer in this world, but has left for another.
But as the teenage gynoid left on her mission, the Freemen base began to tremble in an earthquake, making Nora Wakeman fall to the floor in a loss of balance. Concrete and rocks began to fall from the ceiling, just narrowly missing the young scientist from a deadly blow.
However, one falling rock managed to land on the mainframe of the time machine, smashing various electronics and disrupting its space-time rift. The problem was further demonstrated by its screen glitching, no longer showing the intended date and location of 2024 and San Lorenzo, but an assortment of various times and locations.
"NO!" Nora screamed.
Running to the computer, she attempted to fix the mistake, but another piece of concrete fell on her head, bashing it in and causing her to fall down once again. The injury also left her bleeding out from a gash on her head, leaving hemorrhaging on top of the concussion she received.
Her last sight is that of the of time machine's computer reading the various glitching dates, and no knowledge of the fate that befell her daughter.
Nora Wakeman is dead.
-
Within the space-time rift that Gally Wakeman rode through, the once comfortable streamline from the present to the past, turned to one of great turbulence and trouble. Once flying smoothly through the 4th dimension, just between Earth and the Ghost Zone, Gally began shaking violently and feeling her atoms begin to warp and shift, seeing many different periods of time pass her by.
And all she can do is scream.
-
[Soundtrack Cue: Suicidal Tendencies - You Can't Bring Me Down]
But the fate of Gally is not known to Arnold Shortman nor anyone else. As far as he is concerned, the mission is going along well. And as far as the rest of the world is concerned, what is left of it, there is not even an inkling of an idea that she has been sent back to alter time, eliminating the chance that any interference may come to her.
Now, all Arnold cares for is the last line of defense to ensure she makes her way back.
Standing tall in the Ecto-Skeleton, Arnold Shortman looks back on his life with pride and regrets alike, knowing that it will soon be over. He remembers the times he spent as a youth in Hillwood, to the time he lived among the Green-Eyed People in San Lorenzo, and return to Hillwood prior to its destruction and the Irken Invasion.
He remembers the many lives he has touched and moved throughout the world, and what he has done with his own. Reaching into his pocket, he took out several pictures of his family, setting them on the dashboard of the Ecto-Skeleton as he marched forward to battle.
One photograph is of him and his grandparents. He remembers how they raised him and raised him well to be a fine person, dedicating his life into the service of others. He also remembers how they died together in a hospital bed, and how he was with them when they passed, remembering the joy and pain that they gave him with their lives.
Another photograph is of him and his parents. He remembers how he personally saved them from the jungles of San Lorenzo, bringing them back home to the Sunset Arms Boarding House in Hillwood. He also remembers how big a part of his life they played during his days as the superhero named the Green Eye, and how they gave their lives to save his.
The final is with him and Helga. He remembers how much he loves her, and how he regrets how he left their relationship many years ago after the Fall of Hillwood.
And he hopes that, in the new timeline, he will have his second chance with her.
Taking a deep breath, he readied his weapons of the Ecto-Skeleton, arming various guns and missiles to use against the Irken army. Approaching the armored doors to the hangar in which he stood in, he saw a glow coming from it, originating from the Irkens attempting to breach through the wall and reach inside to kill him.
Arming a missile, Arnold aimed the Ecto-Skeleton's arm at the door, preparing to fire it.
Outside, the Irkens continued to melt through the door, eagerly awaiting the chance to get to the other side and fire upon any human beings remaining on the other side. Upon almost reaching the door's breaking point, seeing its build start to warp and melt, a large explosion went off, killing the Irkens in front.
Out from the smoke and damage, the Ecto-Skeleton emerged from the destroyed wall and approached the army of Irkens, who immediately opened fire on it. Several laser blasts hit the Fenton-built warsuit, all attempting to get to the user within, but, despite all their military might and firepower...
...the Ecto-Skeleton still stood tall, with Arnold unharmed inside.
"My turn." Arnold said.
After taking several hits unaffected, Arnold opened fire back on the alien army. Dozens of Irkens were decimated by Ecto-Skeleton in an instant, slaughtered by machine gun fire, missiles, and flamethrowers, all unleashed on the ground army in a maelstrom of power let out all at once.
Falling en masse before the warsuit, the ground troops of Irkens began to retreat back, relying on their heavier units to strike back. Walker tanks and small aircraft opened fire on the Ecto-Skeleton, once again to no avail on the suit itself nor the user within, only leaving them to be taken out by Arnold.
Reaching up for an airship, Arnold grabbed it out of the air, aiming and throwing it towards another. The two ships collided and exploded upon impact, eliminating both from his concern. Running up to a walker tank, Arnold grabbed onto it and began wrestling against it, seeing it grapple against him as well.
Grabbing and holding onto it, Arnold then threw the walker tank to the ground in a suplex, jumping up and smashing it with an elbow.
Getting up from the ground, Arnold's Ecto-Skeleton took more fire from the Irken ground troops, prompting him to raise an arm to try to see through the bursts of laser light. Feeling the Ecto-Skeleton start to take its draining effect on him, he found struggle in trying to raise up from the ground...
...but his dedication to keep fighting, as well as his own healing factor, made it but a small challenge to overcome the pain.
Making his way through the underground base to the surface, Arnold opened fire on the Irken ground troops once again. Wielding heavy machine guns mounted on the Ecto-Skeleton, the Irkens were reduced to chunks of meat within an instant, their small, skinny bodies being unable to hold up against large-caliber bullets.
A small troop transport hovercraft began rushing towards him in an attempt to ram him, with a gunner on top opening fire on him. Raising one arm up to deflect the enemy fire, Arnold fired back, killing the driver and gunner, and knocked the hovercraft aside when it came near him, sending it crashing into more ground troops.
He is valiant and nigh-unstoppable against the Irken army, but the Irken army itself is legion in numbers, as proven when more come the more he tries to stop them.
But that does not deter him from continuing to fight.
-
Back with Imperator Zim...
Once again, the battle is televised from the Freeman base to the Massive, where Imperator Zim continues to watch on with amusement. His intrigued face shows that this fight is unlike many others he has witnessed, and, to see Arnold Shortman make a final stand against the Irkens, he is especially invested in this battle.
"Ah... The legendary Arnold Shortman. Savior of the human race. So he has decided to make this place his last stand. And what a surprise to see him using such an... efficient instrument to do it." Imperator Zim said.
"That instrument is proving more effective against our armies than we could have guessed, Imperator Zim. Shall I take measures to see it destroyed?" An Irken subordinate asked.
"Of course not! Why would I want to end such beautiful entertainment such as this? How often do you get to see a man of such bravery and gall put up an impossible fight? To defiantly struggle against his death, despite how futile it truly is for him? You will do nothing but keep sending him more troops to fight him. I shall enjoy this greatly."
-
Back in the Freeman base...
So it is spoken, so it is done; more and more troops are flooded into the Freeman military base, continuing to give Arnold Shortman further insurmountable odds.
Still does he keep fighting against them, shooting down and blowing Irkens and their war machines to pieces. The Fenton Ecto-Skeleton he uses makes him an invincible opponent against the Irkens, no amount of small-arms or artillery fire enough to down him as he takes down several ground troops, tanks, troop transports, and airships.
However, in the midst of waging his one-man war, he began to feel weak once again. While able to fight back against the suit's effects before, they were now beginning to take their toll after prolonged usage. Feeling the suit drain him further, Arnold once again fell to the ground, saving himself by holding himself up with his hands.
Taking his time to breathe, he tried to recuperate his strength. His head began to grow dizzy, his muscles sore and weak, and his stomach start to turn. The healing factor he has pushes back against the pain and weakness, but it only works so effectively to give him just enough time to fight for a few more minutes, at most.
In spite the pain, Arnold pushed on, intending to take more time than that.
As he continued on, he no longer had any perception of time or even self, completely immersing himself in the fight. He is not present in time, but somewhere else watching it happen, running on some form of human autopilot. At this point, he is but a machine, just as the Ecto-Skeleton is, and an extension of its abilities.
When he began, his kill count was in the dozens.
Now, it grows to the hundreds.
Now, it grows past that.
Now, it comes near the thousands.
Now, he does not even know. He stopped being cognizant of what he sees, and is only going through the motions without a mind.
Despite how many Irkens came to fight Arnold, they were unable to even dent him. He is invincible.
And there is no pain. It is nowhere to be found.
Still not there. He can't feel it.
No, it's still not there. It doesn't exist.
There is no pain. He's perfectly fine.
He can't be stopped, the pain can't...
Oh, no.
The pain grew stronger, weakening him again, and the Irken troops began to lay in more hits into his suit. He knew these were his last moments, but he would see that he took as many Irkens with him. He would not die so compliantly. He was going to die with the intent to kill as many Irkens as possible.
He will not stop.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
But even the Ecto-Skeleton has its limits. The next attempt to pull the trigger amounted to nothing. He is completely out of ammo.
With no more firepower to stop them, the Irken troops slowly began to surround Arnold, keeping their weapons on him. In one final burst of defiance, Arnold rose up and stomped on a squad of Irkens, falling and tumbling to throw himself on top of more, crushing them as well. As the Irkens continued to approach again, Arnold raised a fist and crushed more Irkens with it...
...but this was the very last of the energy he had to expend. His fight is over.
Then, a holograph with Imperator Zim shown on it was brought to Arnold, with the image clapping in congratulation.
"Well, well, well, Arnold Shortman. Leader of the Freemen. For years, you have led this little pitiful resistance. Now, you lay defeated, not on your knees, but on your belly, like a cowardly snake, defeated." Imperator Zim monologed.
"Laying on... the corpses... of your soldiers." Arnold panted.
"Yes, yes, and what splendid entertainment you have brought me with this last hurrah. And what a silly assumption you always had, your naivety that all life-forms valued one another. A mistake that many of your kind had made, but fortunately not all. If you had known anything about the true nature of the universe, anything at all, you would have hidden from it in terror. Now, you have brought me your corpse, freshly depleted of life, and guaranteed me the extinction of your entire pathetic race. With your death, I shall finally make Earth my throne on the new Irken Empire. Do you have anything to say before I finish you off in front of my entire army?"
"Yeah. I know something you don't know."
"Oh? And what might that be?"
"The human race... will never go extinct. We've already won."
"And how is that? Is this one of your delusions of hope that you humans have, believing that you might live on forever?"
"No. What we did here today, we'll ensure that you never win. You've already lost."
The amusement on Zim's face turned to confusion, and worry over the cryptic words that Arnold spoke.
"What does that mean?" Zim asked.
"Sorry. You don't get to find out." Arnold groaned.
"This one is hiding something. Search every area of this human hole until you find what he speaks of."
Holding his tongue against the Irken Imperator, preventing the truth from being known, Arnold instead focused on the photographs of his family, remembering them and savoring their lives for the very last time. He does not have any more care in the world for anything, but the happiness he had with them once.
Not even a care for the atom bomb counting down, reaching near zero.
Looking back to Zim, Arnold raised a fist in defiance, letting out his last words.
"Earth shall overcome... Death to Zim." Arnold said.
Then, the bomb detonated.
It completely destroys the base of the Freemen, who, long dead after the Irken army came, are spared from the nuclear fires that consume the base. The Irken army, however, is not spared from the blast, and they are all destroyed in an instant of the blast, completely decimating all the forces within...
...and all the forces surrounding it, reducing the entire battleground into a nuclear-charred crater where they all once stood.
-
Far above the battlefield, in the ship simply known as the Massive, Imperator Zim's feed is cut off from the destruction of his holographic unit, but the blast can be seen from its view of Earth's orbit. The fantastic explosion of a nuclear proportion would normally have a pleasing effect on Zim, satisfying his cravings for death...
...but, with the final words of Arnold Shortman in mind, he feels that he cannot afford the luxury.
He knows well of the legends of Arnold Shortman far before the Irken invasion, and, through his genetic splicing and absorption of Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, he is well aware of the lengths that he would go to see victory. Impossible as it may seem, Zim does not allow the trouble to leave his mind, pondering on it carefully.
"Imperator Zim, whatever did that foolish human mean before he perished?" An Irken subordinate asked.
Still pondering the answer himself, the Irken Imperator gives the only answer that he has.
"I do not know." Zim said.
-
This has all been but a glimpse into the creation I have made with the worlds made available to me, and I present to you now as your creator. You have watched on with endless patience and intrigue, taking in any emotions present in the creation, and you still crave more.
"But your questions are still not over, are they?" Clockwork asked.
"Never they are, Clockwork. This premise you give us, this tale of salvation and unity, is one we have heard many times over before. We fail to see what is different or new with your twistings and attempts at originality." An Observant said.
"Yes. And we fail to see what we shall learn that is new. How many times have we had your attempts at content given unto us? How many Clockworks before you that have tried to create a perfect world?" Another Observant asked.
"Still, we crave more. This offering, though nothing new, is familiar enough to continue. We shall have more. Can you, Clockwork the Mad, Clockwork the Calculator, Clockwork the Father, deliver unto us a tale that shall feed us at last?" A different Observant asked.
And though challenged by my audience, I am not deterred by the hecklers. With a tip of my cloak, I simply smile off the critiques, and I say...
"Fear not. I am." Clockwork said.
So we return now to the show, and we glimpse back into what is and what shall be.
-
In the past, there place called Area 51. It is most famous for allegedly housing aliens and UFOs, creating all sorts of conspiracy theories and stories based around these unproven speculations, but, in reality, it is a military installation. An installation known for secrecy and being classified by the government, but known as a military base nonetheless.
Today, it has a visitor in the form of Doctor Ángel Membrana, known to the world a world-renowned scientist named 'Professor Membrane', who epitomizes the term 'mad scientist', draping himself in a large white overcoat and never letting anyone see his full face, with only the top half of his head being shown, and a pair of goggles.
He is escorted through the base by an Army officer, and to his sides are his son and daughter, Dib and Gaz Membrane.
Dib, interested in the paranormal and all things related to the supernatural, takes to his environment with glee and wonder, looking on the base with astonishment...
"Wow... Gaz, do you realize where we are right now?! We're in the heart of Area 51! Do you know how many people would kill to be here right now?!" Dib squealed.
...but Gaz could not care less for where she is. Instead, her head is buried in a Game Slave, where she slaughters vampire pigs in a virtual world away from here.
"Whatever, Dib. Nobody cares about your stupid alien obsession." Gaz said.
"Gaz, you literally lived through an alien invasion. How can you not care?" Dib asked.
"Zim? That's ancient history. We beat his stupid plan, and he's not coming back. He probably forgot he was supposed to take over the planet by now."
"Now, children, be on your best behavior. We don't want to get ourselves in trouble here, now, do we?" Professor Membrane asked.
Disappointed with his sister's apathy, Dib followed his father in silence, waiting to see where their tour will take them.
It leads them to a room where a robot is laid in chains, suspended in the air where it is studied by various scientists. Once, this robot was known as Gally, in another timeline, but she is far out of her time, and far from the intended date she was supposed to be sent to.
The presence of the robot makes Professor Membrane stop and look on her in fascination, with Dib looking on the same.
"This is interesting... What is it?" Professor Membrane asked.
"We have no idea. We found it crashed somewhere in the desert, near one of our other bases in the area. Happened a few years ago. Soldiers said it was like the sky opened up, then just fell. Never saw anything like it." The officer said.
"Looks very humanoid. Was it human-designed?"
"Don't know. Some of it looks like our technology, some of it... Well, I don't know. Kind of looked like some of that Irken stuff you guys picked up awhile back, during that wormhole thing you went through."
"Yes, the Florpus Event. And I appreciate the government's cooperation in the cover-up proceedings. The social media angle was surprisingly the easiest, all those anti-vax and flat Earth loonies make it too easy."
Opening her eyes, Gally looked on the group, doing so with a weak expression on her face.
"It's conscious. Has it always done that?" Professor Membrane asked.
"Plenty of times. Even screamed a few times when we studied it." The officer said.
The reminder of her torture is of no concern to Gally, who instead looked on Dib, widening her eyes upon seeing him.
"Hey... I know you. You're a Dib. And you must be Dr. Ángel Membrana." Gally said.
The group stood shocked at the words Gally spoke, not expecting this robot to call them by name.
"That thing knows your real name?" The officer asked.
"So it seems. Curiouser and curiouser." Professor Membrane said.
Walking up to Gally, Dib felt a supernatural calling to approach her, compelled to do so out of his own paranormally-inclined mind.
"You know who I am?" Dib asked.
"Yes. Listen to me, and listen to me very carefully. The world's in danger. Of Zim. I need to find Arnold Shortman." Gally said.
Chapter 3: Chapter 1: The Magnificent Seven, Part 1
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1: THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN, PART 1
"E pluribus unum (Out of many, come one)."
-Motto of the United States of America, 1782-1956
-
Welcome to Ocean Shores.
Once upon a time, this place was a Mecca for skaters, surfers, and beachgoers all alike; it was once the single best vacation spot to visit for any American, and, with offerings ranging from the beach, to Madtown skate park, to the classic fried foodstuffs of the Shore Shack, you are guaranteed to have a good time when you come here.
Then, that slowly started to decline.
With much of American youth turning their attention to their phones and the internet, interest in going outdoors slowly began to erode, and, as a result, caused a great economic downturn in Ocean Shores. In search of a better place to build a future for themselves and their families, people left the town behind to rot and decay.
This was taken advantage of by a millionaire named Alex Gravity. Owner of the Zero Gravity Zone skate park chain, a business that slowly but surely monopolized the skate park industry across the country, and changing the very sport of skateboarding for the worse.
Seizing the opportunity as the cunning capitalist he was, Alex Gravity proceeded to buy up all of Ocean Shores, doing so in a corrupt scheme to turn the entire town into a massive skate park city, advertising both the largest single skate park on the planet, as well as a selling feature that no other park could compete with:
Skateboards that ran not on wheels, but defied the very pull of gravity itself.
Said skateboards were also tested by a group of rogue skaters working underneath Alex Gravity, a team calling themselves the Rippers. Consisting of juvenile delinquents and adolescent adults with a penchant for violence, they became the mob enforcers made to push out the last remaining lives in Ocean Shores so he may do with it as he pleased.
But that conspiracy was stumbled upon and uncovered by a young man named Otto Rocket. Known for being a rambunctious youth, often rebelling over most directions to go and skate, he was a down-on-his-luck skater who posted his tricks to NewTube for money, with dreams of being a skating superstar like his heroes past, but had no success whatsoever.
His lack of success and poor living conditions became a point of contention for his father, who, upon inviting him to a dinner party, attempted to confront his son over his unclear and uncertain future. What began as a fun, happy family dinner erupted into a fight between the two, leading Otto to leave in anger and shame.
Following a walk about the town, he stumbled onto the Rippers in the midst of destroying a local business, one belonging to a friend of his, and dove in to intervene against the crime. Discovering the identity of one of the skaters as an old rival from his past, a man named Lars Rodriguez, he made it his personal mission to investigate and expose the conspiracy.
Those who aided him in this caper were...
Maurice 'Twister' Rodriguez, the younger brother of Lars Rodriguez and Otto's best friend, staying with him to develop an unrequited love for Otto...
Reggie Rocket, his elder sister, who, as a result of Alex Gravity buying and shutting down her place of business, was out of her job as a journalist...
...and Sam 'Squid' Dullard, the tech genius whose building Otto saw destroyed, investigated the affair to stop it.
The amateur investigation led to many points of interest, but success would not be one for a long while.
Having grown estranged from his family due to his rebellious nature, Otto, in trying to infiltrate the Rippers, became enamored with their group, considering turning to join them and abandon the desire for justice altogether, believing to have finally found a group that accepted him as he was.
Through reverse-engineering, Sam managed to not only replicate the hoverboards the Rippers used, but even improve upon them. In reconnecting with the old friends he once had as a child, he began to grow a closer connection with Reggie Rocket, eventually forming a romantic relationship with her.
Twister, on the other hand, found his attempts at gaining Otto's love not only fruitless, but also one that he barely understood himself. Not fully content or understanding of his own feelings, the turmoil he felt, combined with the mistreatment Otto dealt unto him, led him to run out from his arms and into that of his homicidal brother.
The betrayal that Otto put upon his friends and family soon bore greater consequences; Twister had received massive trauma over the time spent with his brother, having watched Lars mercilessly murder several people, and, in a loss too great to justify even for his own actions, Otto watched his father die trying to save his life.
The loss and guilt that he felt over his father finally brought him to realization of his wrongdoings, and swore to redeem himself for his wrongs. Teaming up with his old friends once again, Otto defeated Alex Gravity, Lars, and the Rippers, having killed the former himself, and believing Lars to be dead.
What followed after was a new age of prosperity for Ocean Shores.
With Alex Gravity dead and gone, alongside his park and financial ties to Ocean Shores, as well as the newfound fame that Otto and the rest had achieved, the city became a new hotbed for vacations and visits, bringing in a new, healthy economy that created a new Ocean Shores wtih many new citizens as well as old ones.
Those who fought for their city also gained their own stakes in it; the Shore Shack once again reopened with the Rocket family running the business, Sam opening a new electronics store next to the Shore Shack, and Otto running the pro shop Rocket Boards just below the restaraunt.
It brought in a new golden age for both the Rocket family and friends as well as Ocean Shores itself...
...but, in recent days, not for Otto Rocket.
An example has been more than provided on this day, as the businesses of Ocean Shores have been open for the past few hours. The work day has slowly gone underway, but it picks up the pace to normal hours and regular flows of customers coming through all business fronts.
The Shore Shack and Squid's Electronics still stand as the two shining examples. The Shore Shack, serving relentless flows of customers that come into the restaraunt for their hot and delicious meals, many opt to order take-out, deciding to carry their food to the beach to enjoy alongside the sand and sun.
This means that the waiters have less work to do, but the tables are already full with those customers who prefer shade and seating, and it most certainly does not make work less easy for Tito Makani, the head cook of the Shore Shack, as he tries to direct the chaos within by getting his teenage employees to see the meals they cook ready to serve.
For now, this goal seems few and far in between.
"C'mon, c'mon, cuzes, we got a big day today! Plenty of hungry people are coming by, and they're coming to get the best burgers in town! So we gotta give 'em what they want!" Tito cheered.
Walking up to a cook on the fryer, Tito lifted the basket out to find french fries turned black from the oil, ruining the batch.
"Caleb! You let them cook too long! You gotta get a new batch!" Tito complained.
"Sorry, Mr. Makani." Caleb said.
Moving past one nasally-voiced teenager with a perpetually-cracking voice, Tito moved onto another by the grill, finding the burgers on it to be small and dry.
"Jessie! You flip the patties only once! Too many times, and you lose all the juiciness!" Tito complained.
"Sorry, Mr. Makani." Jessie said.
And once more does he find a mid-pubescent boy doing his job insufficiently, accidentally putting wrong numbers on a pair of orders.
"Brandon! You got the orders backwards! Order 37 is a Big Kahuna Burger, Order 38 is the Coco-nuts Chicken Sandwich!" Tito complained.
"Sorry, Mr. Makani." Brandon said.
Sighing at the incompetence of his employees, Tito shook his head, receiving a friendly nudge from Noelani Rocket, his cousin and co-manager of the Shore Shack.
"Go easy on them, cuz. They're just kids, they gotta learn by experience. You weren't exactly a master at their age, either. You had to work your way up." Noelani said.
"I know, cuz. That's a lesson I've learned well. Ancient Hawaiian saying: 'The pineapple is not sweet when picked too early'..." Tito said.
"...'so let it grow and gain its sweetness'." They said in unison.
"I grew up on the sayings, too, you know." Noelani said.
"Yeah, yeah. But it's times like this when I miss Reggie. She might not have had best skills in the kitchen, but she at least could hold her own." Tito said.
-
Reggie Rocket has served her time in helping the Shore Shack get back on its feet, but now currently works at a local news outlet as a writer. Either at her office or at home is where she spends her time working, but, with her lunch break in effect, she has made it a point to visit Squid's Electronics, both to see that her laptop has received its necessary repairs...
...and to pay a visit to Sam Dullard, her boyfriend, going straight to the back of the store to find him working on a broken TV. Reaching her arms around his neck, she has managed to break his near-unbreakable concentration away from his task and received a kiss from him, giving both of them a happy spot unto their days.
"Hey, Sammy." Reggie said.
"Hey, Reg. Got your laptop all fixed up." Sam said.
Rolling his chair over to another desk, he took Reggie's laptop from it, handing it to her.
"Battery was corroded beyond belief, but that one should last you a long while." Sam said.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, Sammy! I really needed this for my article tonight." Reggie said.
"You're welcome. Now, how about you take me out to lunch in return?"
"An excellent idea, and I know just where we can go."
The two lovers then stepped out of Squid's Electronics, with Sam announcing his lunch break to his employees, walking next door to the Shore Shack to get their much-needed lunches. Seating themselves at a table, Noelani was quick to find them and greet them, giving each of the young adults a hug and kiss each.
"Hey, Noelani." Sam and Reggie said in unison.
"Hello, my sweet children. What'll it be today, the usual?" Noelani asked.
"Yes, please."
"Alright, then. I'll have Tito cook it all up, and we'll all come out and eat with you. Just wait here, my loves."
As Noelani departed to retrieve their orders, Sam and Reggie shared a brief moment alone to themselves, soon joined by Twister, coming off his own lunch break. Unlike the two other members of the family, who took great leisure in their work days, Twister appeared exasperated and stressed, as if though he had worked through a difficult day.
"Whew, finally. Hey, guys. Lunchtime, huh? I'm starving." Twister said.
Once Twister sat down, he let out a deep sigh of content, further adding evidence to his overworked state, and warranting a response from Sam and Reggie.
"You okay, Twist? You don't look so good." Reggie said.
"Yeah, fine. Just a real busy day today. I missed breakfast, and I haven't eaten anything all day. I'm starving. Been a long day all by myself." Twister said.
"What? All by yourself? Wasn't Otto there with you?" Sam asked.
"Nope. He didn't show up for work this morning."
Sam and Reggie took the news with great anger, but the latter took it with a greater personal offense, in light that he was her brother, and knew his ways.
"Goddammit, Otto. Just when I thought he was actually getting somewhere near being a functioning adult." Reggie said.
"Well, c'mon, be fair, he was up late last night, he probably missed some sleep." Twister said.
"If he has work early in the morning, then he should know better than to stay up late all night."
"How'd you know he was up all night?" Sam asked.
"I got up to take a leak, and I heard his TV on." Twister said.
"Well, if he does bother to show up today, I plan to give him my-" Reggie began to say.
Just as Reggie spoke, Otto was seen at last walking towards the Shore Shack, arriving on his skateboard at a slow speed. Upon reaching the Shore Shack, he kicked up his board, carrying it with him to the table and laying in next to him as he sat down with the others.
"Thanks for joining us, Rocket Boy. Nice of you to grace us with your presence today." Reggie sneered.
Seeming to care little for his sister's remarks, Otto rubbed his temples, keeping his eyes closed and his head down.
"Whatever, Reg. I'm not feeling so good." Otto said.
"Then maybe you shouldn't have been up late last night watching TV. Some of us actually try to keep normal sleeping schedules to keep our jobs." Reggie said.
"I'm my own boss, I don't have to worry about that shit. Besides, I passed out sometime at 9, didn't get up until a few minutes ago."
"You slept for over 12 hours?"
"Yeah, so? Sue me if you got a problem with it."
Noelani once again returned to the table, coming back with two plates of burgers, fries, and sodas for Sam and Reggie.
"Here you are, Reggie and Sam, and I see Otto and Twister are joining us, too! The usual again, boys?" Noelani asked.
"Yes, please." Twister said.
"Not hungry, Noelani. Can I just have a beer instead? A tall glass." Otto said.
Otto's request for liquor gained raised eyebrows, viewing it as irresponsible for his business.
"Don't you have work today, Otto? You shouldn't be drinking while on the job. Ancient Hawaiian saying: 'The surfer must not be drunk on pineapples, or else he-'" Noelani began to say.
"Noelani, look, I love you, but I really don't give a shit about work or Hawaii or whatever right now. I don't feel so good, and I just want a goddamn beer to get better, okay?" Otto asked.
Otto's rude and exhausted remark left a sour taste in all their mouths, but Noelani nonetheless complied with her stepson's request.
"Okay, then, Otto. If you insist." Noelani said.
As Noelani unhappily walked away, the consequences of Otto's actions were shown by the reactions of the others at the table.
"Otto, what is wrong with you? Why would you yell at Noelani like that?" Reggie asked.
"Because I just want a goddamn beer, and I wasn't in the mood for preaching. I get enough of it out of you." Otto said.
"And you don't think that's going to mess up your ability to do your job today? You already overslept, now you wanna get drunk as soon as you wake up?"
"I don't have work today. I have the day off."
"Since when?"
"Since now. I'm the boss, I make the rules, so I decide I want a day off."
"Oh, that's real smart. And how is that any fair to Twister? He's been working his butt off all day because you decided you needed a day off."
"I don't know, let's ask Twister, shall we? Hey, Twist, do you care if I need a day off?"
"Well... it kind of sucks that you left me all by myself, but... If you're not feeling so good, then-" Twister began to say.
"Twister, will you stick up for yourself for once? Stop defending him." Reggie said.
"But, I mean, look at him. Does he look like he's in good enough shape to work?"
The tired and sickly-looking Otto was clear enough evidence that perhaps his condition was serious enough to warrant a day off, ending Reggie's comments.
"Look, Reggie, we all need a sick day from time to time. It happens. Why don't we just lay off Otto until he's better?" Sam asked.
"Ugh. Fine." Reggie said.
Silently taking to her burger, Reggie joined Sam in eating lunch together. Noelani returned again, with a plate in one hand and a beer in the other, handing Otto the latter.
"Here's your food, Twister, my dear... and... your beer, Otto." Noelani said.
"Thanks." Otto said.
Taking an energy drink ouf of his pocket, Otto opened it and poured its contents into the glass of beer, mixing the alcohol and caffiene together into a cocktail of consciousness-warping contents that guaranteed him no clear mind whatsoever. The action gained shocked looks out of the table once again, and the observing Noelani.
"Can you say 'cirrhosis', boys and girls?" Reggie asked.
Once Otto began swigging down the contents, drinking nearly half of the glass in one sitting, he took out a joint and lit it, beginning to smoke it.
"Now you're smoking weed, too? Are you trying to screw your head up as much as possible today?" Reggie asked.
"As a matter of fact, yes, I am. I said I don't feel good." Otto said.
"Otto, you know you can't smoke that in here. We don't allow anyone to smoke in the restaraunt." Noelani said.
"Yeah, for tobacco. This is weed. Nobody ever got hurt from second-hand weed smoke. Besdies, it's an open-air patio."
"Otto, I'm not going to have this fight with you. If you want to smoke that, then go outside. This is a family-oriented restaraunt."
"So? I guarantee you no kid'll be put off by weed."
"Otto."
Hearing the sternness in her voice, Otto could find the heart no longer to test her patience, conceding to Noelani's demand.
"Alright, fine. I know when I'm not wanted." Otto said.
"That's not what I was-" Noelani tried to say.
Noelani's attempt at saying something to assure Otto was left unsaid as he quickly bolted away with his joint and drink, leaving the family alone and off-put by his behavior. The disposition towards him was not as hostile as it once was, but now screamed of concern for the prodigal son.
There is almost a loss of appetite at the table, but Noelani tried to assure those present not to worry, as not to see their lunch ruined.
"Don't worry, children. I'll go tell Tito to talk to him." Noelani said.
Noelani quickly departed to do just as she said, leaving the rest of the family to eat quietly. Their lunch is delicious as always, but uncomfortably silent to sit through.
-
Leaving the lunch table to consume his alcohol-energy drink mix and smoke his joint, Otto stepped to the back of the restaurant to face something to give his focus to. Through the haze of the various substances he consumed, there is only one thing that he can clearly focus on now, and cannot stop focusing on no matter what he consumes.
That something is the mural of his deceased father, Raymundo Rocket, painted by him 2 years ago now. He has made it as a permanent reminder to the world that this man once existed, and to show how much he was loved and the degree to which people would go to express it...
...but this has only served to cause him pain, remembering the estranged relationship that they shared together.
He regrets every word he said to him that was harmful and not loving, he regrets that he has not been a faithful son and an active part of the family he was born into, and it makes him feel less as a son to the man, and even less of a person to everyone else around him.
The several substances he consumes are an attempt to stop caring and stop thinking, but it still does not work.
In his drugged-up state, barely aware of his own surroundings, he caught a glimpse of something that he did not recognize was originally there, and focused his attention on it to try to discern what it was. And what it was turned out to be a group of children with skateboards, all looking up to him in wait.
Otto does not care for why they are there, only concerned with being alone.
"What the hell do you want?" Otto asked.
"W... We... We're big fans, Mr. Rocket. We were wondering if you could come skate with us and show us tricks." One child said.
Turning away, Otto took another inhale of his joint, blowing it in their faces as he exhaled.
"Piss off." Otto said.
The rude dismissal successfully rid Otto of the children, who ran off with sad looks and a few tears among the group. Caring not for the cruel treatment he inflicted on the children, Otto turned back to the mural, continuing to smoke and try to waste his brain away as not to feel his hurt any longer.
But once again, he is proven to not be alone. Alongside him he finds Tito standing over him, crossing his arms in disapproval.
"Not a good look for you, cuz." Tito said.
"You here to shit on me, too, Tito?" Otto asked.
"Never, Otto. Just here to talk some sense into you. You feel good about yourself about that? Feel proud of it?"
"No. I just wanted to be left alone, and they wouldn't let me be."
"Those kids look up to you, you know."
"Didn't ask 'em to."
"Doesn't matter. You saved this whole town 2 years ago, and helped make it what it is again. Anybody in your place is gonna get people lookin' up to him."
"So, if I didn't do what I did, I wouldn't have all this unnecessary attention on me?"
"That's not what... Otto, you listenin' to yourself? You would go back and let someone get away with the crime of the century just so you'd be left alone and be a nobody?"
"And he'd still be alive."
Looking to the mural on the wall, Tito understood at last the root cause of Otto's dismay, and let out a sigh.
"That what this is all about, cuz?" Tito asked.
"I'm the reason that he's dead now, so, you tell me." Otto said.
"No, Otto. Raymundo saved you because he loves you. You can say all kinds of vile crap about yourself you want, but Raymundo wouldn't have ever said any of that about you."
"He called me a loser."
"He didn't mean that, and you know it. Would he have jumped and saved you if he didn't think you were worth saving?"
"Apparently, I'm just some asshole that doesn't do anything but get high and drunk, so he made a huge mistake."
"No, cuz. You're making the huge mistake. Your dad saved your life, and what are you doing with it? Trying to waste it like this? You think this is a good way to pay back what he did for you?"
"It's the only way I can almost forget how much I miss him. And how much I screwed things up."
Sighing once again, Tito felt a deepening sense of defeat out of his failure to shake Otto out of his misery.
"Come on, Otto, you think I ain't hurtin', too? We all got our ways of dealing with grief." Tito said.
"I got mine right here." Otto said.
"Not like that, you don't. That doesn't get you anywhere but in a hospital, if you're lucky."
"Since when do you buy into the reefer madness bullshit?"
"There's a difference between enjoying an herb to think differently and overusing it to try to stop thinking altogether. I know someone with a problem when I see one."
"So is this the part where you say some stupid saying about coconuts or pineapples or whatever?"
"Not this time. This time, I got just one thing. If you wanna take some time, then fine. But don't go wasting yourself like this. Don't waste what your dad did for you. I already saw my best friend go into the ground. I ain't about to see his son go in there with him."
Tito then left Otto to his vices, hoping that his words left within him a message that could make him correct-course on his current path in life. Looking back at the mural, Otto thought over the heartfelt sharing of words that his metaphorical uncle left him, once again implanting thoughts that he could not drink away.
But the loss of his father soon overrode the words, with trauma once again supplanting love.
-
The day passes normally enough for the rest of the family, Otto's attitude towards them aside, and they all return home after a good day of work once again.
The Rocket house, once home to the Rocket offspring as children, now serves the same once again, with the recent additions of Sam and Twister under the same roof. Combined with Tito moving in, his old home destroyed as the old Shore Shack was, the Rocket family now lives together as one again, giving life to a home once occupied by but a widow.
Following dinner and various other night activities, most of the family goes off to bed, with the exception of Reggie Rocket. As per her job as a journalist, her employment requires her to keep up late to write her articles, such as now when she continues to write on her newly-fixed laptop.
Her work at home is easy to a mind like hers, and comfortable enough to do in her pajamas, and she takes extra comfort on laying on top of Sam in their shared bed. While she laid on top of him, Sam quietly enjoyed the pressure and warmth her body gave to his, leisurely reading a book on science to further educate himself.
However, the work necessitates nutrition just as much it does concentration, and Reggie requires her share of it, departing from the bed to get it.
"Hey, I was just getting comfortable." Sam joked.
"Ha-ha, Sammy. I need to get a snack. I'll be back in a bit." Reggie said.
Departing from their bedroom, Reggie made her way to the kitchen, but stopped outside the door to Otto's room. Though the house was dark with all the lights turned off, a series of lights could be seen from underneath the door, with faint noises coming from the other side.
Recognizing this as another instance of Otto neglecting his sleep schedule for a healthy work life, Reggie stepped inside to confront his poor decisions.
[Soundtrack Cue: KMFDM - Ganja Rock]
In the instant upon entering the room, Reggie's nose was assaulted with the smells of burnt marijuana, as well as alcohol, energy drinks, and various snack foods. Given a taste of his neglectful life before moving back in, Reggie's discontent was already put to its limits, and the blaring music that filled the foul air was also another annoyance that prepped her for plenty of harsh words to say against her brother.
But upon seeing him on his bed, and what he was doing, her anger suddenly became far less strong.
Continuing to smoke another marijuana cigarette and drink another beer, Otto also had the videotape Twister recorded after during their battle against Alex Gravity and the Rippers playing on his television, which he watched with the intensity of a conspiracy theorist with the Zapruder film, but with a focus on one specific part:
The supposed death of Lars Rodriguez.
Remembering him as the one to blame for Raymundo Rocket's death, Reggie understood Otto's anger much better now, and gained a degree of sympathy for the trauma her brother was going through, and what measures he was taking, no matter how drastic, to try to relieve the pain.
Continuing to watch the video, repeatedly watching Lars being dragged down to what he believed was his father's killer's death, Otto cannot hear anything except the loud, blaring music, hating Lars so much that he desired not even to hear his voice. All he wants is to keep watching him die, wishing that this moment of reality was the true end of Lars Rodriguez.
"Otto... Otto... Otto..." Reggie called.
Stoned and frustrated, trapped in immense focus of his video, Otto could not hear his sister, and, even if he could, would not heed her.
Grabbing the remote in Otto's hand, Reggie tried to pull it out from his hands, but Otto tightened his hold on it, fighting back against Reggie in refusal to give it up. Groaning in protest, refusing to get out of the failing, perpetual attempt at sanity he made, Otto finally lost control of the remote, Reggie having wrested it from him.
Turning off both the TV and stereo, she put all audio and visual noise out from the room.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
"Otto, what are you doing?" Reggie asked.
"Getting a sleep aid. I need to watch that piece of shit die again." Otto said.
"He's not really dead, Otto. I don't know how, but he survived. Watching that isn't doing anything."
"Sure it is. It reminds me that I failed to avenge Raym- Avenge dad. I thought I did it, but I didn't. I failed. I couldn't even avenge his death right. And that scumbag's still out there, and he's killed tons more people. I watch this just right, I can imagine he goes under the water, and he never comes back up. I can forget he's still alive."
"Otto, that's enough. What are you accomplishing by doing this?"
"I don't know."
"That's right, you don't know. But I know what you're accomplishing by doing this: Nothing. Getting stoned off your ass and putting yourself in a fantasy isn't solving the problem."
"It makes it hurt less."
"Oh, come on, Otto. You're not the only one who lost a dad, you know."
"Nope. Just the only one of us two that treated him like shit, and got him killed."
"No, he gave his life to save yours. You didn't get him killed. And sitting there and feeling sorry for yourself isn't gonna magically make it all better again. What's done is done."
"Yeah, Tito was feeding me that same bullshit earlier today, and I wasn't buying it then, either. And it wasn't because of his stupid Hawaiian sayings, because he didn't give me any this time."
"And how many times has he ever done that? Been so personal that he couldn't even do that?"
Ignoring her question, Otto prepared to take another puff from his joint, but Reggie knocked it away, pulling Otto to the side of the bed and speaking with him face-to-face.
"Otto. Listen to me. You might think I'm just some bitch that doesn't serve any purpose on this planet except to annoy you or piss you off, and that's all fine, you can think that all you want, but that's not gonna change the facts. You have a problem. You're bitching and moaning about how you screwed things up with dad, but what about the rest of your family? We're still here. And believe it or not, we all still love you. Dad loved you, and he loved you so much that we was willing to jump in that explosion to save you. Every one of us would do the same thing. Even me. You can't just keep running. You gotta let us back in. And you have to take care of yourself." Reggie said.
Pulling him off the bed entirely, Reggie took him out of the room and carried him to the bathroom, placing him in front of the sink with a toothbrush his hand.
"Now, brush your teeth." Reggie said.
"The hell is this, you my mother now?" Otto asked.
"I'm someone who cares about you. And I'm proving that by making sure you take care of yourself, because if I didn't care, then I wouldn't bother. Now, stop complaining and brush your teeth."
Sighing in annoyance, Otto began brushing his teeth as ordered. As he brushed, Reggie walked out of the bathroom, heading into Otto's room and digging for a fresh pair of pajamas. As soon as Otto finished his broken habit of oral hygiene, Reggie returned with the pajamas, handing them to him.
"And put that on. Your clothes smell like weed." Reggie said.
A quick change into his pajamas later, Reggie then walked Otto into her shared bedroom with Sam, finding her tired bedmate looking at the entering two with confusion.
"Something wrong?" Sam asked.
"Yes. Otto needs to be shown that people here do care for him. He's going to sleep with us." Reggie said.
Without question, Sam set away his book, helping Reggie bring Otto into the bed, demonstrating as well that he does care for his friend. As soon as Otto was in bed, he instantly took to the blankets and sheets, wrapping himself tight in them as a means of seeking comfort.
Looking on Otto with pity, Sam gave him an affectionate hug to further comfort him.
"Hey, come on, bro. You're alright. You're gonna be alright." Sam said.
"That's right. We're gonna wake up in the morning tomorrow, and we're gonna fix you out of this funk you're in together." Reggie said.
Reggie shared a kiss with Sam as a goodnight gesture, as well as a kiss on Otto's forehead.
"Goodnight, boys." Reggie said.
"Goodnight, Reggie." Sam said.
Otto gave no response, as his slowly-fading consciousness was beginning to slip away into nothingness as the warmth around him managed to relieve his stressed and exhausted brain. Once the lights were out, Otto was all the way gone into sleep, getting some of the first steps towards peace.
And with another step towards peace, humor is made in the situation, spoken by Sam.
"You know, this might be better for all of us if we put him with Twister. There's not a lot of room on the bed." Sam whispered.
"Shut up, Sammy." Reggie whispered.
-
The next day passes along, with Otto returning to work at Rocket Boards. He is not as well as he once was before, still in a clouded state of mind, but he has not been permitted any substances that make his mindset any worse, putting him a step in the right direction.
That said, his withdrawal also makes his head mostly swim in turmoil for the day, and saved only by the occassional painkiller. He mostly goes through the motions of work without any enthusiasm or glee, which he once felt from the work he enjoyed. All he can concern himself with is getting home as quickly as possible, so he can go straight back to bed.
The only thing capturing his attention at the moment is the news playing on a TV in the corner of his store, which currently moves on to its weather reports.
"This just in, we're getting reports of a huge tropical storm coming in to Ocean Shores, just barely making the cut of a hurricane. Winds are at 70 MPH and rising, with a warning put out for all residents of California's Orange County and southern are to stay indoors and off the streets. Ocean Shores' beach has been scheduled to be closed tomorrow as a result. Sorry, surfers and sun lovers, looks like you'll have to take a day off from the nation's surf capital." The reporter said.
Otto found no disappointment in the news shared, but instead felt an idea start to sprout in his mind. What idea came to him is a sort that he never had nor contemplated up until this point, and it almost shocks him that he could conceive of it, but, the recent events of his life make this idea tempting and enticing, no matter how permanent it may seem.
His thoughts on it are broken by the arrival of a returning customer coming up to the counter.
"Hey, Otto. Got my board ready?" The customer asked.
A brief pause is made in between him hearing the customer and the answer he gave, a testament to his focus of thought.
"Hmm? Oh, yeah, here, one sec." Otto said.
Otto then stepped aside to a back room, retrieving the customer's board out of several commissioned repairs, and handed the finished product to him.
"Thanks, man. Sucks that storm's gonna make me miss out tomorrow. Gotta find some other way to pass the time now. But no better way to do that then the waves, right?" The customer asked.
"Yeah, sure." Otto said.
Returning to his sulking state of mind, Otto paid no more mind to the customer, who waited to make his payment for the services.
"So, uh, what's my damage?" The customer asked.
"It's fine." Otto said.
"But... I didn't pay yet."
"Just take it home, it's fine. It doesn't matter."
The sudden act of charity is one that the customer did not understand, but did not feel the need to question further.
"Uh, well, okay. Thanks. I'll see you next time, okay?" The customer asked.
The customer departed with his newly-finished board, with his temporary farewell not even registering with Otto Rocket. Nor does the loss of profit register to his concern, either; what he contemplates now makes all Earthly concerns with the world not anything he has to care about anymore.
All he can think about now is the release he will soon get.
-
The work day concludes with all stores shuttering and barricading themselves against the incoming storm, with the Rocket family going home for the day to rest.
Yet another dinner together is shared, with all present eating and indulging happily, except for Otto Rocket. His lack of appetite is noted, but not pushed on, for none are willing to push him through any hard times. Tito does his best to insist he eats, but even he fails to make the Rocket child eat.
Otto goes to bed like the rest, this time in his own bed, and not hungry despite his refusal to eat. For many nights, he has gone to bed with great difficulty in getting up in the morning again, finding very little reason in justifying the effort in doing so, and often sleeping in...
...but, as the morning has risen with the sound of heavy rainfall and the whistling of wind, he now has a reason.
The rest of the Rocket family wakes up later on, waking from the noises of the storm just as Otto has. Unable to attend their businesses, they are forced to spend a day in together to wait out the storm. It is not an inconvenience that they look to with frustration or anger, but with joy, knowing that they will spend a fun day together as a family.
Not bothering to change out of their pajamas, they come together in the living room, allowing the TV to play the news in order to keep updates on the storm. Coming together by the couch and living room floor, the young adults allow the older adults to come out with breakfast and board games, looking forward to waiting out the storm together.
"Alright, cuzes, I got a whole smorgasbord of breakfast ready, and Noelani's got out all the board games from the closet; we got Django, Very Hungry Hippos, and Hypercapitalism, what should we start with?" TIto asked.
"We still didn't finish our game of Hypercapitalism last time. We still need to finish." Sam said.
"That's because you rigged the game so it would never end, Sammy." Reggie said.
"I didn't rig it, I fixed it so it would work correctly. The whole point of Hypercapitalism was to show who anarcho-capitalistic principles like followers of Ayn Rand and market libertarians don't work when left to their own devices, and cause a total collapse of the economy altogether. You don't 'win' Hypercapitalism so much as 'lose' first. Under my version, I add a basic tax system and universal basic income program, so that way everybody stays in the game for good, and the game lasts healthily."
"Then there's no way to beat the game at all. You're just letting it go on and on forever."
"That's how a market should work. The market's not a game where you 'win' or 'lose', it's a utility to make sure that the consumer is protected, and the manufacturer and corporations are playing by the same rules so nobody gets hurt."
"In real life, yeah, but this is a game, Sammy. You just win or lose. A game that goes on forever isn't any fun."
"Well, I was doing it to make a point."
"And you made it well, Sammy. Now that you've made it, we're not playing it. Got it?"
"Hey, wait, Otto's not here to play yet. Shouldn't we go get him?" Twister asked.
"He's probably sleeping still. He could use it." Sam said.
"Not anymore. We can't just keep leaving him to sleep all day. Go on and get him up." Reggie said.
"But I-"
"I'm not leaving you here so you can pick Hypercapitalism again."
"Aw, alright."
Begrudgingly complying with Reggie's command, Sam walked up the stairs to the door to Otto's room, knocking on it and opening it soon after.
"Otto, we're playing some board games to wait out the storm, Reggie wants you to come join us-" Sam began to say.
When Sam found no sign of Otto in the room, he cut off his speech, heading back down the stairs to declare the absence of its intended audience.
"He's gone." Sam said.
"What?" Reggie asked.
"He's not in his room."
"Is he in the bathroom?" Twister asked.
"The door to the bathroom was open, he's not in there, either."
With the absence of Otto made a priority for the family, the interest in board games and fun was long gone, and instead the search for Otto was immediately put in place. Separating to check multiple corners of the house, the family continued in search of the Rocket child, but none found any luck in locating the absent family member.
"I can't find him anywhere." Noelani said.
"Maybe the cuz went for a surf? Wouldn't be the first time he tried it in this weather." Tito said.
"Oh, god, he better not have. The last two times nearly got him killed." Reggie said.
"I don't think he is." Twister said.
"Why not?"
"Because he didn't take his surfboard. I just checked the garage, it's still there."
"Couldn't he have just taken another surfboard?" Sam asked.
"Nope. He never takes any surfboard besides his own out in the water, and none of ours were missing, anyway."
"Then where the hell could he have gone out in this weather?" Reggie asked.
The answer came from the television, which continued to play updates on the weather, including a live feed on the streets of Ocean Shores.
"We are getting reports of heavy rainfall here in downtown Ocean Shores! I'm reporting to you live near the boardwalk, where the waves are hitting harder than ever, and there's nowhere to be found on the beach. Some might be adventurous enough to risk life and limb to try the waves in this storm, but the people of Ocean Shores have apparently wised up to stay- Wait, what's this?" The reporter asked.
The camera feed then showed a lone man standing atop the boardwalk rail, staring out into the raging ocean before him.
It was Otto.
"Oh, my goodness, that looks like somebody actually trying to make a surf in this weather! But I can't see his surfboard! Is he some sort of professional diver? Or this some other sort of beach sport? Whatever it is, I hope he's a professional. Any other man doing this, you'd think that they're suicidal!" The reporter said.
'Suicidal'.
That word began to bounce in the head of Reggie Rocket like a raging electron set loose from its pull around an atom, setting off stress and anxiety unlike any she has ever felt in her life before. She knew that her brother had his share of emotional troubles, but never before now had she thought that he was capable of taking his own life.
Not until she saw it with her own eyes.
"Oh, no." Reggie whimpered.
"Get the car." Sam said.
"I'm on it!" Tito announced.
Without hesitation, the family rushed out of the house and into the car, with Tito quickly starting it and driving straight towards the boardwalk.
Wasting no time to make their way to the boardwalk, Tito also makes full use of the car's gas pedal, putting it straight to the floor. The passionate act to reach Otto in time gives them plenty of speed, but, with the streets filled with rainwater, the high speeds of the car make it hard to control, and the low visibility in the weather make the act all the more dangerous.
Forced to lay off the gas pedal, Tito instead drove at a normal rate to reach him.
"Tito, what are you doing?! We need to get to Otto as fast as possible!" Reggie shouted.
"I can't, cuz! I go fast in this weather, the car's gonna topple!" Tito shouted.
Forced to race to Otto at a much slower rate, the fear and anxiety felt among the family is made all the worse by inaction, forced to fester and stew in their own frustration.
Not too far from the family, but far enough to leave him on his own, Otto continues to look out in the raging sea.
He takes a look back on his life, doing so with a passing interest. The moments of joy that he once felt in his own memories no longer give him the delight he once felt from them, recalling only the motions and no longer gaining anything significant out of the days he lived.
Instead, there is only regret and anger over his many mistakes. They are many and overwhelming, overtaking whatever sort of pleasure that he once felt in life. Combined with the withdrawal from the various substances that once gave him comfort, the last remnants of support are no longer in place.
Now, he is ready to jump.
The Rocket family car makes it to the boardwalk, and immediately does the family rush out of it and run straight through the rain to reach Otto. Pushing through strong winds and rain, they continue forward to try to reach the last member of the family before he could depart from them.
Then, he jumped.
The image of seeing him jump to his death, all while fighting through hell itself in order to prevent him from doing so, is an image that even the worst of nightmares could not conjure, but reality itself does. The Rocket family reach the edge of the boardwalk in vain, arriving only to see Otto fall into the ocean.
"OTTO!" Reggie screamed.
But the cry that Reggie yelled for her brother went unheard, just as Otto fell into the ocean.
Witnessing the suicide of the Rocket son, all immediately go into a state of depression, all coming to tears, with Reggie falling to her knees in sorrow. Sam does his best to comfort her, and Tito and Noelani also converge to cry as well, all coming together to overcome the traumatic experience...
...but Twister does not join them. It is not because of a lack of sorrow that he refuses, but because of a need for action he does.
Instead, he climbed up onto the edge of the boardwalk himself, making the rest of the family look towards him in shock and confusion.
"Twister, what the hell are you doing?!" Sam yelled.
"Meet me on the beach! I'm gonna get Otto!" Twister shouted.
Jumping off the pier, Twister dove in with his hands pointed forward, bracing himself for the high dive he took. Many times has he taken to the ocean, and from great heights, but never before has he dared to make such a dive, not when the consequences could be deadly.
But for Otto, he dares.
Diving into the ocean, he dares to swim through the roughest of waves and ocean currents, being beaten back and thrown about by the merciless hand of nature. With only a build of light muscle against a lanky body, it is no different than seeing a bug being blown away by human hands, but still he dares to swim on.
He dares to swim further down into the ocean, searching for any sign of Otto among the ocean floor or drifting somewhere in the seawater, frantically searching for him through the dark, poorly-lit waters of the ocean. He dares to push through the pressure that builds on his ears, pushing so painfully that his ears nearly bleed.
Only does he break this dare to come up for air, just so he can continue further.
He dares to continue searching through the ocean, looking for Otto at all costs. His body has been seriously cast out to sea with the currents brushing him away, but still he dares to search on, fully willing to give his own life for Otto's without a second thought on the matter.
He dares to depart so far from the Ocean Shores beach that swimming back would be a challenge in and of itself, nevermind the fact that carrying Otto along the way would be nearly impossible. He dares to try anyway, and dedicate all his energy and being to find the most important person in his life.
And, at the ocean floor a ways away from the beach, he finds Otto.
He dares to swim at the bottom of the ocean floor, feeling the pressure start to pierce his ears so badly he wants to scream, pushing back against the urge to conserve his air. He dares to grab onto Otto's body, and swim back up to the surface with his precious cargo, making an even slower descent with the extra weight he has now.
He dares to swim back to shore, barely even able to see it under the storm, and catching only glimpses of it in the rough waves of the storm. He dares to push against the currents and swim through the waves, not letting the extra weight of Otto keep him back, and does not even consider the possibility of dropping him.
He dares to keep going despite his lack of breath, getting shorter and shorter from exhaustion. It is only adrenaline that keeps his body moving, acting in an act of self-preservation that is shared between both him and Otto, reserved only for the natural instinct to protect those who can carry one's own offspring and progenitors.
He dares to reach out for the beachhead which now lies just a few mere feet away from him. He knows that he has already won, and he only needs to make his final push to the land to succeed. He does not know if this has all been enough to save Otto, but he does not permit himself that self-doubt yet.
And, finally, he who has dared, has won.
Grabbing onto the sandy beach, Twister crawled his way out of the water, dragging Otto along with him. Once he reached a sufficient distance away from the ocean, he at last released Otto, falling down on his back in exhaustion to catch his breath again.
His brief rest is joined with the arrival of the Rocket family, rushing up on the beach to see the success Twister has achieved.
"Holy shit! He actually saved Otto! Twister, you did it!" Sam cheered.
But the victory declared is cut short when Tito checks Otto's breathing and pulse, only to find no signs of either.
"Cuz... He's not breathing... and he's got no pulse." Tito said.
Hearing the news out of his exhaustion, Twister shot back up again with another boost of adrenaline, rushing over to Otto's body. Immediately beginning CPR, he pulsed down on his chest with vigor, lifting his head up to breathe air into his mouth, then returned to his chest to revive him.
"C'mon, Otto! Breathe! Get up!" Twister shouted.
Continuing to pulse down on his chest, Twister once again breathed into Otto's mouth, moving back to his chest.
"Otto! Breathe, goddammit! Breathe!" Twister shouted.
Continuing to pulse down on his chest, Twister once again breathed into Otto's mouth, moving back to his chest.
"Get up, Otto! Breathe already! Don't be dead, don't be dead!" Twister shouted.
Continuing to pulse down on his chest, Twister once again breathed into Otto's mouth, moving back to his chest.
"Come on, Otto! You gotta breathe! Don't die!" Twister shouted.
Continuing to pulse down on his chest, Twister once again breathed into Otto's mouth, moving back to his chest.
"Otto! You son of a bitch! I can't live without you, now, breathe!" Twister shouted.
Continuing to pulse down on his chest, Twister once again breathed into Otto's mouth, moving back to his chest.
The vigorous efforts made by Twister, while once watched with anticipation and hope by the Rocket family, now found little reason to keep watching or allow him to continue with the lack of results showing. Reaching out to Twister, Tito tried to pull him away from Otto, but Twister shoved him off.
"Cuz, he's gone. You did all you could." Tito said.
"No, I didn't! He's still got it! Otto's done so much already! He can survive this! He never backed down from anything! He's my best friend!" Twister shouted.
Continuing to pulse down on his chest, Twister once again breathed into Otto's mouth, moving back to his chest.
Once again receiving no results, Twister, letting out a pained, agonized yell, began vigorously punching Otto's chest, desperately trying to make him breathe once more. Still receiving no results, he slapped Otto across the face, trying in a delirious bid to try to revive him.
"COME ON, OTTO! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" Twister shouted.
Finally, Twister stumbled back in total exhaustion, unable to continue any longer. Back into Tito's arms does he fall, and deep in them does he cry over his failure.
"It's okay, cuz. You did your best." Tito said.
Trying to support Twister, Tito attempted to hold back his own tears, but found himself unable to. Having been the best friend to Raymundo Rocket for most of his life, he cannot stand to see one of the two remaining parts of him die, and reacts accordingly as he cries with Twister.
The rest of the Rocket family cries as well, all sulking and mourning over the loss of the Rocket child. Like Otto in his last moments, they, too, remember all the times they spent with him, and, seeing him gone from this mortal world, they regret as well, but their regrets are towards all the hostilities and fights they had with him, wishing they could take it all back or have another try.
As always, the past cannot be changed by these humans...
...but, as Otto began to cough, they have their wishes for another try.
Coughing up all the water in his lungs, Otto gasped for breath, taking his first gasps of air following his death. The revival brought instant relief and cheer to the Rocket family, and Twister, jumping out of Tito's arms, immediately put his own around Otto, lifting him up off the ground in a hug, crying over his shoulder.
Realizing it was Twister crying over him, Otto let out his first words following his revival.
"Twister... Why'd you save me, man? I was gone. You didn't need me." Otto moaned.
"Because I do need you, man. We all need you. We love you. I love you." Twister cried.
With Twister's heartfelt confession spoken to him, Otto's suicidal actions became feelings that he regretted greatly, now taking great selfishness in his attempt to throw his own life away, and deprive his loved ones of his presence. No longer does he doubt his own worth, not after knowing the lengths in which they had gone to save him.
Overjoyed to see him alive again, the family sat before him, watching with teary smiles.
"Otto..." Reggie began to say.
"Mom and dad say hi." Otto interjected.
The sentiment brings further tears to Reggie's face, making her need to compose herself for what she intended to say.
"...don't you ever do that again." Reggie said.
"Don't worry. I won't. Not ever again."
-
And time passes once again, a long while past this near-tragedy. Otto has been given a second chance at life by those who love him, and he does not waste it feeling any unnecessary misery or hate. Instead, he embraces what he has, and does so with great joy and pride.
His relationship with his family is much healthier and stronger, and now does he share a deeper bonding with those among him; he has their support whenever he needs it, he gives support to others when it is needed, and he feels like he is part of something greater, just as a human should.
And his business has never been better. He is beloved by the customers who come see him, and always does he provide the best service in all of the southern California area for any skating or surfing needs. Working together with Twister, they make Rocket Boards a small business that has no competition, even among the larger companies in the sport.
One such day when he takes a break from that business, he steps outside for a smoke break, enjoying a smaller joint of marijuana to pass the time. It is not in so much excess that he uses the herb that he numbs himself, but just enough of the drug to give himself a temporary relief to the day.
But, to his side, are the group of youths who looked up to him once before. He remembers when he first encountered them on a darker time in his life, and how he shooed them away out of anger and frustration, not welcoming anyone else into his personal sphere.
Now, that time is over, and he does not treat them as such. Instead, putting his joint out, he reached for his skateboard, holding it up, and asked...
"You kids looking to learn a few tricks from the master?" Otto asked.
In response, the children cheered, and followed Otto along to the nearest half-pipe. Allowing himself to be a role model to the children, he is patient with them and welcomes all their questions and dialogue, listening carefully to any of their thoughts and concerns, and looking out for any personal attention any of the children needed.
It reminds him of the time when he was young and learned from his father, and, somehow, he knows that Raymundo is smiling on him.
Chapter 4: Chapter 2: The Magnificent Seven, Part 2
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 2: THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN, PART 2
Once upon a time, there was a young boy named Rudy Tabootie.
He was a quiet and shy boy, often sticking to his art rather than try to make friends, and indulging himself in his craft well.
Like many boys his age, he would often find trouble with bullies, mostly coming to him by the way of Reggie Bullnerd. Altercations with him would often end poorly, and, in one instance, for merely drawing a caricature of him on a chalkboard after the bully stole his lunch, landed him a day in detention for a perceived wrong, left to write 'CARTOONS ARE NOT FUNNY' at total of 500 times.
But as he wrote the words, merely grabbing another piece of chalk, he accidentally grabbed a piece that was much different from the others. Upon trying to write an 'O' in the next sentence, the circle drawn had become a small portal into what laid on the other side.
After peering in, Rudy wanted to see more. So, he took the chalk and drew along the lines of the chalkboard, creating a larger portal.
And that was when he discovered the world of ChalkZone.
One of his many creations was a superhero named Snap, who had come to life within ChalkZone after Rudy drew and erased him. Together, they became the best of friends, and continued their adventures together in ChalkZone, becoming an inseparable duo for 2 years.
Then, the 2 became 3 with the addition of Penny Sanchez to the group. Where Rudy held interests and passions in the abstract and art, Penny held hers in the worlds of logic, reason, and science. Her reaction to ChalkZone was that of a complete disbelief at first, but she soon became enamored with the world as Rudy did, and the adventures continued.
During that time, it was proven once again that opposites attract. The friendship that Rudy and Penny shared soon became that of a more serious connection, and blossomed just as they did as they began to grow into adulthood, taking but the first steps into it through adolescence.
However, that start of beauty was soon supplanted by an ugliness that the three had been battling for years.
One of Rudy's cerations was a Zoner named Skrawl, who was an amalgamated mixture of different ideas and concepts from many different children who stopped him mid-creation to add all sorts of different ideas, and ended up materializing in ChalkZone without a clear distinction or purpose.
Many times over had the perverted miscreation clashed with Rudy, Penny, and Snap, but it was not until his meeting with a man named the Chalk King that he had a chance for revenge. The Chalk King was an artist himself who had spent much of his life in ChalkZone, before he finally ended it within ChalkZone itself, and became a Zoner past his death.
Retaining his ability to draw and create in ChalkZone, a privilege that 'true' Zoners do not have, he made it his personal mission to destroy ChalkZone and recreate it in his image. Skrawl was only partially aware of this goal, but cared not for anything else except the chance to get his revenge on Rudy Tabootie.
Managing to make Snap betray his creator, Skrawl successfully trapped Rudy in ChalkZone with no chance of escape, breaking his arms and banishing Penny from the 'Zone to save him. Trapped without any means to save himself, Rudy lost his creativity through forced labor, and eventually freedom in the Mumbo Jumbo Jungles, forced to grow to adulthood alone.
Penny was also forced to grow up without him, but managed only slightly better. Once going through a marriage to someone else, and a divorce soon after, she was left with two children, a regular girl named Carol, and an Autistic boy named Carlos, the latter of which had a penchant for art himself...
...and it was him who led both his sister and himself into ChalkZone, where they found Rudy Tabootie and brought him home at last.
With the four now united, they were soon after given a quest to obtain the Golden Chalk, a piece of chalk which, unlike any other piece of magic chalk, had the ability to make anything it drew with real as reality itself. The Chalk King, too, desired this chalk to make himself human again, and went after the humans who tried to obtain it.
The journey towards it was long and hard, not just for the physical trip, but also for the tension that grew between Rudy and Penny. Separated for 15 years, forced to live completely separate lives together, both living with their own respective traumas, they clashed and fought when they once had fun and enjoyed the presence of one another.
The fights they had nearly broke the both of them, but, following a splash into the Wait-N-Sea, a body of water in ChalkZone with the magical ability to regress any adult mind who stepped inside it to childhood, making both forget their traumas and subsequently go out for fun again, temporarily distracting them from their mission.
When both had left their child-like states, they were forced to confront their traumas once again, but with a fresh perspective. It was then that Rudy finally came to the realization that there was still love in him for Penny Sanchez, and with that realization came the rediscovery of his talent and creativity.
And, after confessing his feelings to Penny, the two had consummated their newly-kindled relationship.
Following their quest to acquire the Golden Chalk, bringing the aforementioned magic chalk to Calcite, a resistance group of Zoners against the Chalk King, the freedom fighters had their home base attacked by Skrawl, sent on behalf of the Chalk King to obtain the Golden Chalk.
The attack was deterred, but not before the Chalk King himself appeared to take Penny hostage, demanding the Golden Chalk be surrendered to him.
In response, Rudy, Carol, and Carlos led the remainder of Calcite against the Chalk King at his castle, making a final battle for the fate of ChalkZone. The fight was fought hard and well, and, though the forces of the Chalk King were defeated and Penny was freed...
...the Chalk King himself was not defeated, and he retaliated by erasing all of Calcite, leaving just the humans to stand against him.
In a fight that lasted a seeming eternity over the Golden Chalk, Rudy was nearly killed in the process, and, theorizing that he would be born again as a Zoner in the realm of ChalkZone, commanded Penny to finish the job. Penny did so with great stress and strain, leaving a mental scar on her that would not ever leave.
But the plan worked; Rudy was born again as a Zoner, fighting the Chalk King as one immortal being against another.
Pretending to allow the Chalk King to take the Golden Chalk at last, Rudy used the magic chalk to feed him every idea that humanity had ever concived, which composed the Golden Chalk and gave it the powers it had. In turn, the Chalk King had literally thought himself out of existence, having all remnants of his self scattered across the human experience.
In turn, the Golden Chalk also made Rudy Tabootie a human again, and, with the others helping him through the process, used the Golden Chalk to recreate all the Zoners who had been erased in the battle. When all harm in ChalkZone was undone and justice was delivered, Rudy made a new mission in life with the 'Zone restored:
He would leave once and for all, and start a new life with Penny and her family, marrying her and becoming a step-father to her children.
Though he has plenty of love for ChalkZone in his heart, he decided that a venture into his own life would be an adventure worth taking, and was willing to try his hand at being a normal person once again. Ever since, he has spent most of his time in the real world, having his status of declared 'dead' reversed and living a normal life.
But that came with a parting gift from the Golden Chalk:
He can draw in the real world, as if he were in ChalkZone.
It is these new talents that have brought him to Thailand, where he plans to make use of them. As one of the sex trafficking capitals of the world, particularly in children and underage teenagers, it is ripe with corruption and horror that is without justice and help for those who need it.
But Rudy Tabootie will see that change.
In a docking bay in Bangkok, there is one such example of heinous crimes being committed, with a group of human traffickers working on a deal with American buyers. A meeting was arranged with the ringleader of the trafficking ring, alongside the representative of the American group.
As the buyer arrived, the head greeted him with a formal handshake.
"[So nice to do business once again, my friend. Your group has been quite a top buyer of our product for quite some time.]" The ringleader said.
"[What can I say? We Americans love to buy, and buy in excess.]" The buyer said.
"[Yes, indeed. The richest country on Earth has all its money burning holes in their pockets, don't they?]"
"[Only men like us, my friend. Only men like us. The poor in my country aren't so different from the poor in yours. They both don't have a pot to piss in, but our country looks shiny enough on the outside so that it doesn't show.]"
"[Amazing how luxury can override the necessities of life.]"
Meeting up by a series of shipping containers, the buyer handed the ringleader a briefcase of money. Opening up the briefcase, the ringleader and his subordinates checked the money to ensure no marks or any sorts of tracers were within the bills, and, once satisfied with his inspection, closed the briefcase.
"[Very good. Now that I've checked out the merchandise, please feel free and check ours. As always, we ensure that we harvest nothing but the best.]" The ringleader said.
"[Yes, of course. Now, the only real dilemma I have for now is, am I in the mood for a girl, or for a boy?]" The buyer said.
"[With our crop, you won't know or care for the difference.]"
Interrupting the deal was the sound of a clang across the docks, disturbing the relative silence that the docks were under at this night.
"[What was that? Someone go check it out.]" The ringleader said.
One subordinate moved to investigate, carefully walking up to a ladder and climbing up to a scaffold where the sound was heard, keeping his gun in hand. Staying low and away from the trouble, the rest of the ring and the buyer cautiously awaited to see the results of his search, not wishing to take a single chance.
Upon searching, however, the subordinate found nothing.
"[Nothing here. Probably a bird.]" The subordinate said.
Laughing off the concern, the ring and buyer continued as normal.
However, as the subordinate stopped to smoke a cigarette, there was a movement from the shadows that put the false belief of safety to rest. Stepping out from the shadows behind him, a man dressed in a green pilot suit and bandolier of sticks of chalk approached the subordinate, preparing to make him the first victim he would attack.
Down below, the ring and buyer had no knowledge of the altercation, still carrying on as normal. The buyer, preparing to 'test' the merchandise, pulled out a condom.
"['Ribbed for her pleasure'. And his, too, when he learns to like it.]" The buyer joked.
The ring shared a cruel laugh over the buyer's soon-to-be victim, preparing to open the container doors.
But as they began to open the doors, a scream was heard from the balcony above, and came in the form of the absent subordinate. Falling to the ground with a scream, his scream eventually ended when he hit the ground head-first, breaking his neck in an instant.
No longer concerning themselves with the business deal, they now drew out their guns in preparation for the coming threat, waiting with ready arms.
What came out was Rudy Tabootie calmly stepping towards the trafficking ring and their buyer, approaching the group without a care or concern for the weapons pointed at him. Seeing that he appeared to have no apparent weapons, the group still kept their weapons high, standing confused as they were vigilant.
However, recognizing Rudy Tabootie, the ringleader urged his men to lower their weapons, instead attempting to be welcoming.
"Hello! I know you! You're Rudy Tabootie. The comic book artist who came back from the dead! You're quite a big name in the world, Mr. Tabootie, your comics are popular here in Asia as much as they are in your home country, the Japanese read it up!" The ringleader said.
Rudy gave no response to the ringleader's attempts at flattery, only standing still and unfettered.
"Listen, my friend, if you're looking to do business, you've come to the right place, but you're going about it quite wrong. We have many American celebrities as clients, even comic book people like yourself! I'm sure you know some, right? Come over, and let's talk business!" The ringleader said.
Rudy finally responded by pointing a finger at the ringleader, speaking in an angry, accusing voice.
"You hurt children. You people are monsters." Rudy said.
The ringleader's demeanor towards Rudy then turned to a displeased one, no longer showing any signs of friendliness.
"[Oh, great. Another heroic type like that guy from Dude, Where's My Car?, can't stand those self-righteous liberal losers who love to put up a show. Please kill him for me and dump his body in a river somewhere.]" The ringleader said.
Raising their weapons again, the traffickers opened fire on Rudy Tabootie.
It was fully expected on all the gunmen that Rudy Tabootie would die, but, rather than such a logical event to happen, something else happened.
The bullets that entered his body not only passed right through him, but, instead of blood coming out from his wounds, chalk dust poured out of them, and still Rudy stood tall and showed no signs of harm or hurt. Instead, he continued to stand tall, and the gunshot wounds had healed themselves up, sealing up the pouring chalk dust.
He then proceeded to step forward, taking out a piece of chalk and drawing himself an axe and a sword, wielding both weapons to use against the trafficking ring. All members of said ring stood still in shock, unable to process the fantastical event, but none stood so still as the ringleader, whose only motion was the attempted utterance of...
"[What... the... fu-?!]" The ringleader tried to say.
...but that single motion was misspent; a simple dodge would have permitted him to dodge the slash of Rudy's sword, which scalped him in one swift move, slicing off the top of his skull and exposing his brain to the open air. Now that he failed to save himself from the attack, his body began convulsing in pain, and only groans came out of his mouth.
Kicking the ringleader to the ground, Rudy sent his exposed brain sliding out of his head, stopped short only by the brain stem.
The sight of their ringleader almost dead in such a brutal manner, the rest of the trafficking ring was out of their shocked states, now put into self-preservation.
"[Get him, get him!]" One trafficker shouted.
Keeping his weapons at the ready, Rudy stepped towards the first enemy in his way, stepping on the ringleader's brain and squashing it.
The ringleader is dead.
Moving up to the first of the traffickers, Rudy was met with little resistance save for a pair of raised fists, which did nothing to save him against the blades of his chalk-drawn weapons slicing into his body and sending him to the ground, ending his life in seconds.
The next trafficker Rudy attacked, he began by kicking in the knee, forcing it out of place and making him scream. Lopping his head off with his axe, Rudy put his screams to a sudden stop with his death. Kicking his severed head as it fell from its place, he sent it towards the next trafficker in his path.
Catching the severed head, the trafficker panicked as the head of one of his comrades fell into his hands, making him juggle it in a shocked and horrified reaction as he knew not how to react to it. However, that trouble was put to an end as Rudy thrusted his sword through the severed head and into the trafficker's head as well, killing him as well.
With the sword temporarily stuck in the two heads, Rudy used his axe to thrust it into the crotch of another trafficker, cleaving his unmentionables in half. Keeping his hold on the axe, Rudy then lifted the trafficker over his head and slammed him into the ground, breaking his neck as he collided with it.
Trying to preserve himself with proper fighting skills, one trafficker ran up to attack Rudy, preparing to use Muay Thai against him. Retrieving his sword from the two heads it was stuck in, Rudy prepared his own weapon as the trafficker brought out a pair of Thai daggers.
As the trafficker rushed up and began slashing his daggers at his enemy, Rudy defended himself with his sword, parrying the slashes as they came to him. The enemy attacks came in great speed, and, with two weapons against one, it spelled victory for the more experienced fighter.
But as the Muay Thai trafficker drove his daggers into the body of Rudy Tabootie, seeing that he once again only bled chalk dust and did not perish, he knew he would not find anyplace near victory. Reacting in an almost comedic manner to the Muay Thai trafficker, Rudy handed him his own chalk sword in a casual manner.
"Here, hold this for a second." Rudy said.
Removing the daggers from his body, Rudy then swung them straight up at the trafficker, lopping off his arms. The Muay Thai trafficker fell to the ground screaming as a result, with blood spurting out of the stumps that his arms once were, and Rudy retrieved his sword from the ground after the trafficker dropped it.
Lifting the sword up, he drove it down into the trafficker, ending him with the rest.
As Rudy looked up from his kill, he looked up to the American buyer, looking on him with a face of great scorn for the crimes he was willing to commit, and those he has committed before as well. With his status and standing, Rudy knows that he will never see a day inside of a prison cell where he belongs...
...and he is here to rectify that aberration of justice back to its natural state.
Walking up to the buyer, Rudy's target blubbered in fear to try to prevent his death, pleading for mercy and offering bribes.
"W-Wait! We can make a deal! I have connections and money! What do you want? I'll give you anything you want! You've got kids, right? How about Ivy League schools for them all, paid in full? Don't you want a good future for your kids?" The buyer asked.
Stepping up to the buyer, Rudy grabbed his mouth, preventing him from offering any more bribes.
"You steal futures from kids. Mine was stolen from me a long time ago, so I'm here to make sure you don't have one, either." Rudy said.
Lifting the sword up once more, Rudy shoved it down the buyer's throat, ramming it all the way down until the sword pierced straight through his body, and leaving the hilt and handle sticking out of his mouth, gagging and choking over the object in his throat as his damaged insides began to bleed on themselves.
The buyer then fell to the ground, bleeding out, with his blood erasing the sword that killed him.
The buyer and the trafficking ring is dead.
Having concluded his business with the ring, Rudy then opened up the shipping container, stepping inside.
The children within stepped back in fear, believing they would be either exploited just as the buyer planned to do, or would be harmed as Rudy harmed them. The reaction of fear Rudy had depresses him ever so slightly, making him feel as though his efforts had only made him more of a monster, and not to be admired.
But one child, a girl no older than 6, walked up and reached for his arm, showing compassion and friendliness to their savior. Seeing the girl step up and approach him, his initial reaction is horror in seeing someone so young be sold into sexual slavery, but the small act of compassion is enough to relieve his own self-doubt and fears, and it brings out a warmer show in Rudy Tabootie.
Picking the girl off the ground, he held her in a hug, cradling her as if he was his own child.
In turn, the children inside warmed up to him, approaching closer to give their thanks for his deeds.
-
Once his work has been done in Thailand, he ventures back to the city of Plainville, Minnesota, where his home and family await him.
Flying over the city, he is discreetly camouflaged by the twilight sky, unseen by the sleeping populace below as the dawn has not fully come. Coming to the house where he grew up in as a child, a house which he now shares with his family, he lands softly on the roof, ensuring he does not make a sound when he does.
His flight had been accomplished by a pair of rockets drawn on his boots, created by his power to draw in the real world as he does in ChalkZone. Now that the rockets have served their purpose, he erased them with his hands, smudging them away until they were but chalk smears on his boots.
Climbing up to the window of the master bedroom, Rudy quietly climbed inside, once again ensuring that he makes as little noise as possible. Looking to the bed, he finds his wife, Penny Sanchez, still fast asleep, and he is relieved to know that his efforts at stealth have been successful.
Removing his pilot's jacket, boots, and pants, he remains in an undershirt and underwear, in more fitting attire for bed.
He knows that the day will soon end, and what sleep he will acquire is little, but he does not care. On top of ensuring that his excursion goes unnoticed by the rest of his family, he also wants to steal a moment of intimacy with his wife, needing it now more than ever following what he has done.
Gingerly crawling into bed, he spoons himself against Penny, cuddling her from behind and hugging her softly. His hands go to her bosom and her belly, touching her most erogenous zones to confirm her existence to him and know that he still has this special connection to her.
A quiet moan is roused from Penny from his action, and her hands come to his, reciprocating this emotion, and bringing peace to both of them.
That peace, however brief, is a calming and content one, and it makes the blaring of the alarm clock waking them up not as much as a nuisance. After silencing the alarm clock, Penny grabbed Rudy's hands and brought them to her face, kissing them and snuggling with them as she woke.
"Morning, Rudy." Penny moaned.
"Morning, Penny." Rudy said.
After giving his hands one last kiss, Penny rose from bed, reaching her arms up and yawning as she stretched.
"I need to get ready for work. Can you get the kids ready for school?" Penny asked.
"Of course." Rudy said.
Rising from bed as well, Rudy hugged Penny and snuggled with her one last time, kissing her on the lips, leaving her to disrobe and shower.
Putting on a pair of pajama pants, Rudy walked downstairs to work on breakfast for the family, taking eggs, bacon, hash browns, and orange juice out of the refrigerator. Retrieving a skillet from the pots and pans, he proceeded to cook each item and prepare it for the family, starting with the bacon to enhance the flavor of the next items.
Soon after the breakfast was finished, Rudy watched Carol and Carlos enthusiastically run into the dining room, eager to down their breakfast, and proceeded to do so with great haste and delight. Neither of them had greeted Rudy nor thanked him for the breakfast upon entering, so young and hungry that they concerned themselves with little else...
...but they still love Rudy very much, and they rectify that mistake as soon as they finish eating.
"Morning, dad. Thanks for breakfast." Carol and Carlos said in unison.
"Morning, kids. You guys just about ready for school?" Rudy asked.
"Almost. I just need to pack my science homework. Mama helped me with it last night." Carol said.
"Need to get my comic book. Finished reading my last one yesterday, reading more at lunch." Carlos said.
"Well, then, you guys better go get your stuff, bus comes in a few minutes." Rudy said.
Taking their father's advice, Carol and Carlos bolted for their rooms, both retrieving their needed items.
As the children left, Rudy began working on cleaning the dishes, leaving out two plates; one for himself, and one for Penny, preparing to have a nice breakfast to share with her. Once done with the dishes, he turned to find Penny standing in the dining room, staring at him with a look of restrained anger.
"Penny? You okay?" Rudy asked.
Penny explained her concerns by holding up a smartphone, playing a news report on his mission in Thailand.
"Breaking news: We have reports that a child sex trafficking ring in Thailand has been brutally wiped out by an unknown vigilante. Among the victims of the trafficking ring was also Hollywood producer Van Quieter, reported to have connections with the ring. The children abducted by the ring have been taken into protective care, receiving full physical and mental health treatment. But what makes this story very interesting in how the trafficking ring was slain. According to the reported wounds of the victims, the vigilante appeared to use bladed weapons... against a ring of individuals with firearms. More baffling than this, there were no traces of metal at the scene, but there were traces of calcium carbonate, a substance commonly used in the creation of chalk." The news report said.
Having made her point with the video, Penny set the phone down, looking back at Rudy, as if expecting an explanation. Rudy did not attempt to tell a lie to absolve himself of the blame, nor try to change the conversation, unable to do either with his wife in good conscience.
"Well?" Penny asked.
"What do you want me to say? You know and I know that I'm the only one who could've done that." Rudy said.
"I want to hear it from you. I want to hear you confess it."
"Yes. I did. I killed them."
Penny's angry expression then turned to a cry, further fueled by her frustration.
"What? Penny, why are you crying? I saved those kids." Rudy said.
"And you killed people to do it, Rudy! Does that make it okay?" Penny asked.
"If I hadn't done it, those kids would've been raped and lived horrible lives."
"The police could've taken care of it."
"They didn't. And with a big name in Hollywood there, they would've have. Penny, I can't just sit by and let children get hurt like that. You know what happened to me, you saw what I became, you think I want that to happen to anyone else?"
"But you're here now, and you're with me. I can't have you leave me, Rudy. Not for good."
Penny's crying began to intensify, with her anger and rage subsiding into true sadness.
"Do you remember how I had to kill you? When I had to stab you to death in order to help you fight the Chalk King? I didn't think it would work like you did. But I did it anyway, because you wouldn't stop yelling at me to do it. I have dreams sometimes where I did it, but you didn't wake up. Like I killed you, and you wouldn't come back. I used to think about when you first vanished, when you were trapped in ChalkZone, and... this was even worse. Every day you're not here with me, I'm scared that you'll be gone for good." Penny said.
"But I won't be." Rudy said.
"I know that, I know that for a fact. I can write it down on a piece of paper, I can write all sorts of proofs and theorems for myself to show it to be an absolute fact... but it just doesn't help. I can't get rid of the feeling."
"And what about the feelings that I have? You know I can't get up without thinking about the times I was under Skrawl and the Chalk King, when I was beaten and tortured and enslaved by them? You know there are times when I just don't wanna get out of bed at all? Even when I have you and the kids to make it better? Because I can't get rid of that feeling, either. I wanna make sure that no other kid ever has to live through what I did. If I don't do that, then I'm no better than the Chalk King was."
"Are you mad at me, Rudy?"
Realizing the frustrated tone in his voice and the effect it was having on Penny's anxiety, Rudy held her in a hug, apologizing for his actions.
"No. I'm not mad at you, Penny. I just feel mad, just because. And I don't mean to let it out on you. I love you very much." Rudy said.
Penny returned his sentiments with a kiss, but not an average kiss that merely showed affection. Instead, her kisses seemed to call for a more personal intimacy reserved for the bedroom, but with an urgency that denied him the time to move the activity to said desired place.
A brief fit of resistance was put up by Rudy, but it was soon lowered after enough of Penny's kisses.
Giving into his own human instincts, Rudy began unbuckling his belt, opening his fly. In turn, Penny turned around and lowered her panties, bending herself over the kitchen counter and allowing Rudy access. Both immediately took to the act in a rush, each needing relief for each of their own traumas through this misuse of intimacy.
The act follows through not with slowness and connection, but through roughness and anger, as if both are merely using each other to seek relief for their own pain. As such, there is very little in the way of actual pleasure, and it tears into what makes this act so special and sacred for them; a far cry from when they first embraced in the fields of ChalkZone long ago.
The act is then over as quickly as it started, with Rudy replacing himself in his pants, and Penny pulling up her panties again, with both panting in relief after the act. Turning back around, Penny pulled Rudy close to her, trying to retain some intimacy after, which Rudy halfheartedly returned with a simple hug.
Quick and nearly loveless as the act is, it is quick enough to where it goes unnoticed by Carol, who entered to plea a goodbye to her parents.
"Okay, guys, Carlos is getting on the bus, I'm-" Carol began to say.
Seeing Rudy and Penny pant in such an intense manner, Carol looked back at them in confusion, sensing something wrong in the situation.
"Uh, you guys okay?" Carol asked.
"Fine, fine, Carolina. Please go to school with your brother. Everything's fine." Penny panted.
Carol did not believe her mother's assurances, but nonetheless she left for the bus, having no choice but to head to school.
With the children gone, Penny returned to kissing Rudy again, continuing to hold him tightly.
"Penny-" Rudy tried to say.
"Don't, Rudy. Just stay here with me. Help me get over this. You know I hate feeling like this." Penny pleaded.
Finding her affection far too much for him to handle, and beginning to find it clingy, Rudy pushed Penny off.
"I need to work now. If you need something, you know where to find me." Rudy said.
Walking away, Rudy left Penny to sulk alone, forced to face her anxiety and separation alone. It is a callous move from Rudy, and one of many that he has made during moments like this, and each time he begins to care less and less for what effect it has on Penny.
Left without the person who supplied her with the emotional crutch that she relied on, Penny simply grasped at a nearby towel, holding it like a stuffed animal in sadness.
Moving up to the house's upstairs level, Rudy entered a room outfitted to be an artist's workplace, the area where he spends much of his time, both alone and with Carlos. Needing his own outlet to his own anger and stress, he seated himself before a drawing table, taking out a pencil and preparing to write on the sheet of paper before him.
At first, there is a brief instance of writer's block. He has several projects that he has to work on, consisting of several titles of comic books, cartoon strips for the local newspaper, and pin-up and cover work for other publishers. The work is neverending and bountiful...
...but he cannot bring himself to work on any of them, feeling the altercation with his wife eat at the rest of his imagination.
So, like any good artist, he proceeded to turn that anger into an idea instead.
Feeling the story begin to formulate in his head, he thought instead of a short story to write, planning to submit it as some anthology story elsewhere. Sketching out the story on paper, he not only draws out the panels and characters, but also the lettering work as well, writing out the dialogue for the characters.
The first panel showed a regular man and a small blob, with the man meeting the blob and noticing it move.
Hmm... Such a strange creature. Wonder if I'd get anything for it at the science center? The man thought aloud.
The next panel then showed the man moving back in surprise, reacting to the blob.
Help me... The blob moaned.
Whoa! What's that? It can talk? The man asked.
The next panel showed the man peering down at the blob, moving closer to examine and listen to it.
You're alive, aren't you? You can talk! The man said.
Yes, I'm alive, but not for long. I need you to give me your blood. The blob said.
My blood?
Yes. I am a creature which feeds on the blood of life-forms like yourself. I do not require much feeding, only a drop or so every once and a while. Please, give me some of yours.
The next panel then showed the man leaving, refusing the blob's request.
Forget it! I'm not giving up my own blood for some parasite like you! You're probably going to take it all and drain me, leaving me for dead! The man said.
No, please! I mean you no harm, human! I do not like my nature any more than you do, but, I swear to you, a drop is but all I need! If you leave me here, I shall wither and die! I know you humans have a need for connection and kinship in you, a refusal to let equal or lower life forms die! Can you find it in your heart to leave me to die, just because I evolved to feed on blood? The blob asked.
The following panels then showed the man stopping in contemplation, until he opted to take a pocketknife and prick his fingertip, drawing out blood for the blob to drink. Giving the blob a single drop as requested, the blob's withering appearance had expanded and invigorated itself, appearing more healthier than it once was.
The next panel then showed the blob jumping on the man, latching onto him.
I love you, human! I love you! The blob shouted.
The next panel then showed the man reacting in fear, trying to get the blob off of him.
AHH! No! I knew it! You're going to kill me! Help! Someone, get it off! The man shouted.
Please, don't be alarmed, human! I will not hurt you! The blob said.
The next panel showed the man with the blob on his back, no longer panicking, but instead looking to the blob with more questions.
What's the meaning of this? The man asked.
I love you, human. I shall not leave you now that you showed me love. The blob said.
What are you talking about? I didn't show you love. I just made sure you wouldn't die.
Is there a difference? Is not every act of salvation one of love? For that, I shall show you my love in return.
And what if I decide I don't want your love? What if I say get off me and go find someone else?
Then I would be alone again, and I would be back in my same predicament. I would be left to die just as you found me. Would you no longer supply me with love and leave me to die again?
So I have to keep giving you my blood for the rest of my life?
In return, I shall give you my love, and keep giving it to you so long as you give yours to me. Is that not a fair agreement?
The next panel showed the man contemplating once again, then the following panel showed the man walking on, continuing to walk with the blob on his back.
As he stared at the finished panel, contemplating on his finished art and the meaning behind it, the paper was snatched off of Rudy's desk, taken into the hands of Penny Sanchez. Turning to see his wife standing behind him, he also saw a dour expression on her face as she read the short comic.
"What is this, Rudy?" Penny asked.
"Just a little short story for the anthology title. Wasn't in the mood to work on anything else." Rudy said.
"You don't think I can see where this is coming from?"
"What?"
"Don't 'what' me, Rudy. This is how you see us, isn't it?"
"Penny, I-"
"Is this really how you see me? Working on a comic for hours just to show how much I'm a burden on you?"
"What? It's been hours? I didn't-"
"Don't change the subject, Rudy. Is this really how you feel about me?"
Rudy let out a frustrated sigh, unable to avoid the uncomfortable question any longer.
"It... it feels like that way sometimes, the way you'll always latch onto me." Rudy said.
"What does that mean?" Penny asked.
"You know. Or was the kitchen table not a blatant enough example?"
"You know how I am, Rudy. You know I need help. I know you need help, too. We've been doing our best to help each other, and we've sworn we'd always be there for each other. That's what we vowed when we got married. Is it too much to ask that you be there for me when I need you?"
"You don't need me, Penny. What you need is a vibrator. That's the only way you can get any composure for yourself."
"What's the matter, Rudy? Don't you like me? My body? Is it not good enough for you anymore?"
"It's too much for me, is what it is. Can't you find some other way to get your head straight?"
"I don't know any other way, Rudy. I don't like it when you're not here, and... and I just do whatever I can to make myself know that you're still here. To make sure you're really with me."
"If draining me dry is the only way you can accomplish that, you're more screwed up than I am. I at least try to use my problems to make something substantive out of them."
"By that, you mean, twisting the entire scenario to fit your narrative? Just so you can make a little money off of it?"
"By showing my perspective of it. And making some money to support this family, to show that I can help support it, too, and I'm still worth something. Not all of us had the high-quality education that you have. I barely made my G.E.D. when I got back. At least I tried to fix my problems, to make the best of a bad situation. You didn't do anything."
"Are you mad at me?"
Once again faced with the question that demonstrated Penny's anxiety the clearest, Rudy sighed again, realizing that he could not continue as he was.
"I need to go out." Rudy said.
"Rudy, are you mad at me?" Penny asked.
"No, I'm not. I just need to get out of here."
"Where?"
"Anywhere, I don't care. I'm not leaving forever. I'll be back."
Rudy then stepped to the window and opened it, taking out a piece of chalk and drawing rockets on his boots. Jumping out the window, he began flying straight up into the air, launching himself far away from the city and the human race just to get a place where he could be alone to sort out his feelings.
Penny watched his departure from the window with pain, feeling resentment for her own needs, and blaming herself for Rudy's current predicament.
Rudy's flight brings him not only far away from the city, but the planet itself, launching himself up straight through the atmosphere into space. Such a journey, without proper protection, would kill any human being in an instant, left frozen and brittle in the cold of space.
But Rudy Tabootie is no ordinary human anymore. He has been dead and changed into a living chalk creation, then turned back to human again, retaining the power of creation in the real world. He is of both the second and third dimensions, existing as a creature of both ChalkZone and the real world.
As such, he is immune from the vacuum of space, and can continue his journey straight to the moon, reaching the one place where no human will bother him.
Walking across the surface of the moon, he feels the light gravity under his feet, allowing him to step great distances with each stride of his legs, feeling a levity and freedom that only ChalkZone has granted him before. This journey has given him a place where he can be away from that place, too, and be free and alone.
But as he continued across the empty wastes of the moon, another idea had come to his head. He knows that he had let out some of his anger and frustrations by drawing the comic, attempting to express his own feelings through art and let it out of himself that way...
...so, then, why not do the same here, where he is free to draw where no one is around to see him?
Taking his chalk in hand once again, he is ready to begin.
[Soundtrack Cue: A Perfect Circle - The Hollow]
Waving his chalk in the air just as he has done many times before, Rudy began to draw, working his magic in the real world.
Free from assignments, free from deadlines, and free from his own species, he is free to create whatever he pleases, and wishes to create something from the bottom of his heart. What he wishes to create is not intended for anyone else to see or know, and does not exist to invoke an emotion in another human being.
It shall exist for the sole reason because he wishes it to exist, as an extension of himself.
He begins with the ground, laying the foundation of his work. He draws a circle into the moon's dirt, creating a surface for him to draw on. By the force of his own will and imagination, the circular platform began to rise from the dirt, floating above the ground to give Rudy a better means to continue his drawing.
Flying underneath the circle, he drew a series of lines that connected to a centerpoint below the platform, making the circle into a cylindrical pyramid. Grabbing the edge of the shape, Rudy began spinning it like a top, then, taking his chalk to the edge, began drawing downwards, creating a spiral that snaked down the bottom of the pyramid.
Flying back to the surface of the shape, Rudy began drawing a clock on the flat top of the pyramid, writing the numbers as Roman numerals, and seeing that the second, minute, and hour hands moved at the correct pace. Once the hands were set, he began drawing teacups on the edges of the hands, having all three move at different speeds in a more elaborate version of a carnival teacup ride.
Continuing with the theme of carnival rides, he drew unicorns and pegasi at the edge of the pyramid, sending them in a circle to create a carousel ride. Flying back to the center, he drew a cylinder to create a structural support, drawing another surface atop of that to create another level to the creation.
What he drew next was an orchestra and choir that sung out the most splendid songs, preaching messages of support and love, calling for all violence and anger in the human race to end. The singers and performers are joyous in their calls and songs, and exist solely for this purpose, enjoying what they do in full.
The creation is still not enough to give Rudy content. Moving to the edges of the first floor, he began drawing mermaids, not unlike carvings of the legendary creatures seen on pirate ships, drawing each one to represent the four directions of north, south, east, and west.
Returning to the second floor, he drew a roof over the still-performing orchestra, creating yet another floor to the structure. At the top, he began drawing a watchtower of a castle, and inside a king and queen. The two royal rulers cheer and shout, waving happily to their subjects, and continuously doing so in a neverending display of happiness.
Still does Rudy continue to draw, still not content with what he made. He draws as well flags and banners, waving a message of love and peace on them.
Still does Rudy continue to draw. He draws an elaborate art collage all across the surface, displaying as many different styles as he can.
Still does Rudy continue to draw. He draws fireworks that go off without end, adding more noise and lights to excite the mind.
Still does Rudy continue to draw. He is no longer sure what he draws, only that what he does is not enough.
Still does Rudy continue to draw.
Then, he finally stops.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Finally, what had begun as an attempt to try to relieve himself of his own artistic merit can be seen in full.
What was an attempt to create something beautiful and elaborate has, by some measures, succeeded. What he has made is a mishmash between a theme park, a peaceful kingdom, toys and household objects, and other unrelated ideas to try to make something totally new.
New it is, and it would be more than enough to capture the imagination of anyone who lays eyes on it.
But Rudy does not have that same feeling. His desire to create is not unlike a sexual desire; it merely comes and goes as it pleases, it is strongest when it is during feelings of peace and security, and it is an act of creation that is brought about by much effort and eventual release and relief.
Like Penny, however, he has misused this feeling to ward off his own stresses, forgetting himself and attempting to hide from what he does not like behind a thin veil of pleasure and work. He knows that his talent is great, and someone only of his genius could make so many creations like this forever to run from his problems...
...but he knows that the problem will always be there, no matter what he draws.
With a heavy sigh, Rudy stepped up to the tip of the structure's bottom, lifting it up with a single finger. He lets it spin on his fingertip for a brief moment, allowing his creation to cycle itself in the hold of its creator. He has his own world in his hand, and, while he can still appreciate the effort that went into it, how it rotates and tells time perfectly, he is not content with his creation.
Lifting his finger into the air, he let the flying circus float out into space. Whether the act is akin to a father sending away an unwanted child, an artist tossing away wasted resources on a failed project, or merely an act of sending something of one's own into the universe as a means of living on vicariously through it, are all analogies that Rudy try to connect to what he did to try to understand himself.
But nothing he tries works.
On his own, he is still discontent, and merely more alone than ever.
-
Many days later, the family is together at a gathering set by friends, specifically parents of the friends of their children, who are present for a birthday party. While Carol and Carlos play and frolic with their friends in the backyard of the birthday child's parents' home, Rudy and Penny talk with the parents of the child, catching up on old times past.
The parents are Reggie Bullnerd and his wife of Bobby Sue, the latter of which, while younger, has clear dominance in their relationship.
"Oh, just look at the little ones out there, Reggie. Don't they look so sweet, playing together like that?" Bobby Sue asked.
"Yeah, heh-heh, yeah. They sure do. That's our little boy Bruno, roughneck he is, just like his dad, and his dad before him. He'll make a great garbage man one day." Reggie said.
"And maybe his daddy'll give his mommy a few brothers and sisters for him while he grows up. I did come from a big family, and I'd like to have another big one here at home, sweetums."
Reggie let down a nervous gulp, feeling embarrassed in the presence of the now-laughing Rudy and Penny.
"Well, uh, we'll have to talk about it. Later." Reggie said.
"What about you two? Got any plans for more bundles of joy in your family?" Bobby Sue asked.
Rudy and Penny's joy turned to embarrassment as well, with neither eager to answer so quickly.
"Oh, well... It's... a bit of a handful dealing with Carol and Carlos as it is. I'm not sure there's room at the moment. Maybe when they're a little older and can take care of themselves better, you know?" Penny asked.
"Ah, don't stress yourself out, Penny, the kids these days are almost totally self-sufficient. Little troopers, they are, just like our boy Bruno. The kids are alright, aren't they?" Reggie asked.
Reggie concluded his assurances with a hearty pat on Penny's back, nearly knocking all the breath out of her, an action which Bobby Sue did not approve of.
"Now, now, Reggie. Remember what Dr. Judge said about your strength. You can't go treating girls like that." Bobby Sue scorned.
"Oh, uh, sorry, honey. I was just trying to be friendly." Reggie said.
"Don't apologize to me, Reggie. I wasn't the one you hurt."
"Right. Uh, sorry, Penny. Just trying to be friendly."
Bobby Sue then laid a kiss on Reggie's cheek as a reward for his deed, petting his hair as well, all to his own embarrassment.
"Good boy." Bobby Sue said.
"It's alright, Reggie. I'm used to a little roughness." Penny said.
"Ooh, if that's the case, then it looks like Carol and Carlos will be getting a new sibling, huh?"
Penny began to blush with embarrassment, trying to backtrack her comment.
"Er, uh, no, I didn't mean-" Penny stammered.
"Oh, come on, Penny. We're all adults here. After all, it wouldn't be a loving marriage if there wasn't any love being made, now, was there?" Bobby Sue asked.
"Well... I suppose so. It's just..."
"Just what?"
"Nothing."
The conversation, while managing to engross the wives and Reggie, it had failed to capture the attention of the second husband. His attention is put on the children, keeping an eye on Carol and Carlos, as well as their various playmates like the roughhousing child of Bruno Bullnerd. It is only play that the children are engaged in, harmless fun at a birthday party to become cherished memories...
...but that is not what Rudy sees.
What is happening in objective reality is Bruno holding up a balloon, wrapped in the shape of a sword, held up to Carlos. The two are engaging in a playful enactment of high fantasy constructed by their combined imaginations, and it turns to a friendly wrestle and tumble as the two lock hands and push back against each other.
What is happening in the mind of Rudy is what happened to him many years ago, what led him to becoming trapped in ChalkZone. He remembers the time when Skrawl, then the unfinished drawing taking revenge on his creator, pushing back at him in a similar manner, but with less pleasant and more harmful results.
He remembers when his arms were broken by Skrawl, and the torment and isolation he suffered as a result of it.
As a result, his heart rate and breathing increase, bringing about the primal 'fight-or-flight' response. All other noises and dialogue completely drown out, leaving only the memory. The images play out in his head over and over, and still does the response stay, prompting him to respond to what danger is in front of him, and will not stop until he has his threat ended.
Instinctively reaching for his chalk, he found none within his grasp, realizing that his primary weapon was not with him. Stepping up to a nearby grill, he picked up a hot dog roasting stick as a weapon, walking up to the fighting boys. The departure and sudden acquisition of a cooking utensil are noted by Penny, and they are witnessed with concern and confusion.
"Rudy?" Penny asked.
Walking directly up to the children, Rudy reached for Bruno and grabbed him, pulling him away from Carlos and ending their playful wrestle. Aiming the skewer in a stabbing position, Rudy mercilessly held it up and scowled at his target, preparing to murder him with all the vengeance in his heart.
"RUDY!" Penny screamed.
Grabbing Rudy's arm before he could stab Bruno, Penny's scream and grab snapped her husband out of his traumatic trance, bringing him back to reality.
And standing before him is a scared little boy, trembling and holding back tears after seeing this grown man brazenly attempt to kill him. Carlos, picking himself up from off the ground, grabbed Bruno and pulled him away, ensuring that he was safe from his own father.
And the very fact that he feels the need to do this is a reality he does not like, and looks back to Rudy with disgust and fear.
Reggie and Bobby Sue are quick to approach as well, still barely understanding what has unfolded.
"Rudy, what the hell are you doing?!" Reggie shouted.
With many judging and shocked eyes looking on him, and feeling his wife firmly try to stop him from making his dire mistake, Rudy dropped the skewer, feeling his arms begin to tremble as well. Wrapping himself in his own arms, Rudy fell to the ground, curling up in a seated position in shame of his misdeed.
Taking Rudy in her arms, Penny began to rock him softly, attempting to alleviate the stress he was under.
"Oh, god... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Rudy cried.
And, because of one traumatic memory out of many that will not escape him, the scene of delight at this birthday party has turned to shock and fear.
-
It has taken much apologizing, as well as many well-crafted lies meant to convey the truth of Rudy's pain, all while concealing the truth of ChalkZone, but what damage has been done between the Tabooties and the Bullnerds has been mended. And more than reparations, also come offerings of help, prompted by the kind Bobby Sue.
Together and a day later, they drive to the office of counselor Dr. Judge, with the Bullnerds joining the Tabooties to provide support.
"Listen, Rudy, Penny, guys, you don't gotta worry about a thing. Dr. Judge's a good guy. You're only gonna go up from here." Reggie said.
"I'm still not sure about this. I've... I've never really talked to anybody about my problems before. No one else besides Penny." Rudy said.
"All the more reason to do it. Listen, you remember when I was a little shit of a kid, right? Always giving you trouble, giving you grief. I helped get in shape because of two people: One, Bobby Sue. Two, Dr. Judge. I got a lot of help, and you can get some, too."
Penny held Rudy's hand, trying to assure him just as she tried to assure herself.
"He's right, Rudy. It's been a long time since I had any therapy, and I'm not exactly looking forward to getting back in it... but we do have a lot of problems we need to solve, and I'm willing to try to fix things. But I need you to do it with me." Penny said.
Rudy held Penny's hand back, taking courage in her embrace as well.
"I'll be there, Penny. Right with you." Rudy said.
"Don't you two worry, now. Dr. Judge is a very nice man. He'll be a big help for you both." Bobby Sue said.
The two reached the front door of Dr. Judge's office, prompting the time when Reggie and Bobby Sue must step away.
"Good luck, guys." Reggie said.
"They don't need luck, Reggie. They've got each other, and a helping hand. No need to leave it to luck anymore." Bobby Sue said.
Then, Rudy and Penny stepped inside the office, departing from their friends to begin their first step towards healing.
Upon entering the office, they were treated to a room filled with warm, inviting colors, putting them to an immediate ease at once. The calming environment was further brought about by the soft, calming voice of Dr. Judge, who greeted Rudy and Penny with a kind smile and handshake extended towards them both.
"Well, there you two are. You must be Rudy and Penny Tabootie. I'm Dr. Judge." Dr. Judge said.
Rudy and Penny each shook the doctor's hand, meekly meeting his greeting.
"Hey." Rudy said.
"Hello." Penny said.
"Hi. Now, I'm not supposed to say anything regarding my other patients, but I think Reggie and Bobby Sue won't mind if I share that they talk a lot about you, in a positive light, and were quite insistent that I could give you folks some help. You've got very good friends, and they care a lot if they helped bring you here." Dr. Judge said.
"Yes. They're quite very nice. Reggie used to be quite mean, but you probably already knew that."
"Oh, I don't think of little things like that as 'mean' or 'bad'. Just a little angry, whether it be at ourselves, or at how the world's handling us. We've all got our little angry moments, but I'm not here to judge .No pun intended."
The small joke got a laugh out of the couple, and once again contributed to the feeling of safety that the room provided.
"Please, won't you sit down? We can just relax and have a little chat." Dr. Judge said.
Rudy and Penny complied, seating themselves on the couch in the room.
"So, Penny, I read that you had some past experience in therapy." Dr. Judge said.
"Yes. I did." Penny said.
"Want to pick up where it left off?"
"Not really. It's not the main problem. I... I lost Rudy a long time ago, back when we were kids, and the therapy I had then was to help me get over it. Now that he's back, it seems to be moot. Like it didn't matter."
"But it must've mattered then, didn't it?"
"I... guess so."
"So maybe there's something that's conflicting that stems from that therapy, like a medication that doesn't work anymore. Now's the time when we all try something new."
"If you say so."
"So, then, why don't we start from there?"
"We'd have to start at the beginning. And it's a long story."
"We've got plenty of time."
And once again the truth and lies are told for the good doctor, telling what is the essential truth underneath. The doctor listens with the utmost patience and understanding, allowing his patients to speak for as long as they need to in order to fully share their feelings.
He knows he has much work ahead of him, but he knows exactly where to start.
"Wow. That's... quite a long trial you two have gone through. I could only imagine just how angry both of you feel after going through all that." Dr. Judge said.
"Yeah. It was... I don't know. You just get used to the feelings, like you accept them as a part of who you are." Rudy said.
"And sometimes, you have to use whatever you can to deal with it." Penny said.
"Mmm-hmm." Dr. Judge said.
"But I just don't feel... I don't know... like I really... deserve this." Rudy said.
"Why do you think that?"
"It's just... For as much as I went through, I at least learned how to live with it. I didn't need anybody's help. I got through it without therapy. At least, until this point. But... I at least have some outlet for it. Penny needs the help here, a lot more than me. She's suffered a lot more than me. I don't want to put myself into this when I don't need help as much as her."
"Well, let me ask you this, Rudy: Imagine there's two people drowning. One's drowning in a bathtub, and the other's drowning out at sea. Which one of them needs air more?"
"You save the drowning guy first. He's out at sea and he can't get help that easily."
"No, no, no, not 'who who can you save quicker', who needs air more? Both of them need air to keep themselves from drowning, but who needs it more?"
The question left Rudy stumped and confused, unable to think of a decision between the two candidates.
"I... I don't know. They both need air." Rudy said.
"Exactly." Dr. Judge said.
"Huh?"
"They're both drowning. It doesn't matter where they're drowning or how. What matters is that they need air, and they'll die if they don't get it. Everybody needs help to one degree or another, but that doesn't make them any less deserving of help because one needs less than the other. Human beings are, at the end of the day, social creatures. We all need each other."
Rudy nodded along to the argument after a moment of reflection, and Penny held his hand, showing her own agreement as well.
"You both have your own traumas you need to get through, and you've tried your best to help each other, but the way you're going about it isn't working. That much you both know. But what I'm reading is that you can keep helping each other if you just do it in the right way." Dr. Judge said.
"How?" Rudy and Penny asked in unison.
"Well, for you, Penny, you use sex and intimacy as a way of dealing with your anxiety, right?"
"Yes." Penny said.
"You want something physical, some material proof that Rudy's there for you."
"Yes."
"So, what do you think could be another way for Rudy to prove he's there?"
"I don't know... I... He could check up on me by phone when I'm at work, or come down from his workplace when we're both at home. I know it's still a little clingy, but... Maybe he could do it less and less, so that I can ease into it."
"Just baby steps, that's very good. Never rush yourself. We'll give that a try and see how it goes. Rudy, what do you think you can try to do with the anger you have?"
"I don't know, I already try to put it in my work. That's usually a good outlet for artists, right?" Rudy asked.
"But not when it interferes with your other work, doesn't it?"
"No, you're right. But... I just can't turn off what I feel. What I see. Those are my memories, and they're stuck with me forever."
"Then maybe it's time you try to make some new memories. When was the last time you spent some time with your family? I mean, really spent some time with them, and tried to make good times together?"
A brief moment of reflection is what Rudy takes to try to remember, but he cannot recall what the doctor asks for.
"Eh, it's been awhile. We've both been busy at work a lot, and... You know how it is." Rudy said.
"Alright, then, Rudy, here's what I want you to do: Take some time off work, both you and Penny, and really try to spend some time with your kids. Let them be a reminder why you're here, and that you're there for them, and they're here for you." Dr. Judge said.
The very words of the doctor brought a smile to Rudy's face, thinking over the prospect of healing, and how joyous it would soon feel to be free.
"Okay. I'll give it a try." Rudy said.
-
[Soundtrack Cue: Red Hot Chili Peppers - Dark Necessities]
The weeks that follow are the first steps towards healing for the family, but they are sweet steps towards health and healing that are significant and needed.
A staycation is what the family uses to set the stage for their healing, spending time with one another to reconnect and find happiness again. The days are mostly filled by the family playing board games and watching movies together, finding what joy they can gain at home.
Soon, even that is not enough for the family, and they make plans to visit places both near and far, like the local pool and even theme parks several states across. Cost is of no concern to the family; their utmost and primary concern is to make their children happy during their trips...
...and, in turn, this brings both Rudy and Penny happiness as well.
Many days are spent on the simple goal of having fun, and nearly each and every day they accomplish this. Almost never does a day pass when the parents are away from their children, but this does not make Carol and Carlos grow tired of them. Instead, they are happy to be with the people who love them, and they return the love back in full.
There are, however, some times when Rudy and Penny have their moments of weakness, when their own demons come back to haunt them.
There are times when Penny once again craves intimacy when her anxiety is at its height, but she knows now that what she does is a problem in and of itself that does not solve her core issue. Simple hugs and kisses are enough to get her the physical assurance she needs, and she begins to be comfortable in her time alone.
There are also times when Rudy feels angry and scared, feeling as though he is back in the dark place of his life that he never thought he would go back to. Penny, Carol, and Carlos are there to assure him that he is safe, and he has nothing more to fear, giving him a touch back to reality, and they are there to listen and support whenever he talks about how he feels.
The vacations they have taken are a breath of fresh air that they need out of the routines of work and school that they have run through for the past year, and they return to it, not with dread and anxiety, but sufficient relief to go back to their work happily and productively.
Rudy's drawing has improved and increased in speed, Penny's scientific work has become more efficient, and Carol and Carlos improve at their own studies, making the vacation a benefit for them as well. The results have been reported to Dr. Judge, and he congratulates his patients, and continues his work on the couple to see them fully healed.
Again, the process is slow, but it is indeed yielding results, and many beginning to be very noticeable. There are far less instances when Rudy has his angry outbursts, and he spends far less time in solitude. Penny is also more independent and can tolerate solitude better, making her function better in her life.
Also, the intimacy that they have no longer feels grating or burdening, but relieving and relaxing. The times when they are alone and connect are not rough and crude attempts at stress relief, but instead slow and passionate attempts to please each other, and, in turn, it yields even greater pleasure for both.
And above all, the sleep they catch is far more peaceful and calming, especially in each other's arms.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Chapter 5: Chapter 3: The Magnificent Seven, Part 3
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 3: THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN, PART 3
Magic is real.
It is not the simple birthday clown act or Vegas theater show that is the reality; those are but theatrics and deception, cheap entertainment for the masses.
True magic is the ability to change the world.
A true magician, as in, a literal practitioner of magic, is one who understands objective and perceptive reality alike. They are fully aware of both what physically exists, and how it is perceived by a conscious mind. They know that what they perceive can be perceived differently than how others do, and how their interpretation will reflect on the rest of the world.
At the same time, science is also still very real. Science is a process used to discover and discern facts, and facts cannot change. Atoms and molecules, matter and energy, these are physical concepts that cannot be created or destroyed, but instead altered and changed.
Magicians are very powerful people.
Scientists are very smart people.
Those who combine magic with science are the smartest and most powerful people in the world.
One of these people is Vlad Masters.
In his younger years, he led a life with friendship alongside a pair of co-eds in college named Jack and Maddie, whom he would research the paranormal and supernatural with. Together, they made great discoveries, and gained important data that helped bring the world closer to an answer as to whether or not there was a god or afterlife.
But before Vlad could obtain that valuable information, his present life took a dive into embarrassment and shame with an accident regarding a miniaturized portal that he had created alongside Jack and Maddie. Upon activating, the portal blasted a torrent of ectoplasm in his face, infecting him with acne that completely ruined his social life, including any and all romantic chances he had with Maddie.
Though it was no permanent disfigurement, it had a lasting effect on the young man named Vlad that it might as well have been one.
Combined with this trouble, interpreting it as a personal slight committed by Jack, the ectoplasm had another side-effect. The blast had split his body and soul into two separate entities, one physical and one metaphysical, with his mind spread across the two bodies and able to switch from one body to another at will.
He had become half-ghost.
Using this power to his advantage, he had stolen patents, blueprints, and various technological advances to advance his own weatlh, creating the successful and influential business known as VladCo. His grudge against Jack Fenton and obsession with Jack's now-wife Maddie Fenton also stuck with him, shaping three separate lives, all revolving around their son.
Their son, like him, was also a half-ghost, and used his powers for altruism rather than self-gain. His story is best told later.
In one life, he had been the sworn enemy of their son, but taken him in after their deaths at an explosion at a Nasty Burger. Attempting to help him work through his grief, Vlad had misguided him through aiding him on his exploitative ventures against other companies, and, at his behest, offered to separate his body and soul.
The procedure worked, but at a price. The separated ghost half, now free from any human connection, tore out Vlad's own ghost half and merged with it, becoming a horrifying nephilim of ethereal energy known as Demon Phantom. It had destroyed murdered the world, leaving Vlad to die alone.
In his second life, Vlad carried out the same as the old, but no longer ended up with Jack and Maddie's son as his ward. Instead, he carried out several Machiavellian schemes, such as becoming mayor of the city of Amity Park to hunt him down, and proceeded to exploit an incoming asteroid to obtain power over the entire world.
He failed, and was exiled from Earth, where he would eventually land on an Irken prison planet somewhere across space. Returning from his own timeline, Demon Phantom would come to this second Vlad to recruit in him his second bid to destroy the Earth, which he would agree to for petty revenge.
This is where his second life would leave the most lasting effects on him.
The deaths of the Fenton family would leave him unsettled and uneasy, making him question his own beliefs. That questioning would soon lead to an answer, a revelation regarding his relationship with the son of Jack and Maddie Fenton that would forever alter his perspective:
Jack was not the boy's biological father.
Vlad was.
Given a vision of his accosting of Maddie in her sleep, he had realized he had not only violated someone he held dear, but also that the boy he regarded as an enemy and tormented for so long was his own son. The guilt over his actions had led to a permanent alteration in his personality, making him try to do good.
Now, he is in his third life, where he is given a chance to do this.
Now, he serves as an agent of the Clockwork.
Aware of his past lives, Vlad is also aware of the common denominators of his thievery and his forcing himself on Maddie, two great sins that he must atone for. He is the only one aware of his own crimes, and, though he knows he must atone for them, the fact that he and only he knows of them makes the guilt a heavier burden to carry, knowing he has no one to share it with.
However, this will soon chance, but not for this specific intention.
Recently, he has been made aware of a man named Buckley Lloyd attempting to resurrect his deceased daughter, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. The daughter had sacrificed herself in order to save the life of another, and had gone in peace from the world. Alas, her father, a lonely man with naught but wealth and regrets of his own, refused to allow that life to rest in peace.
So, in order to try to convince Buckley to stop, he decided the only voice who could convince him to stop would be Rhonda herself.
And it is here that he attempts to make contact with her.
It is said that all religions contain some form of truth in them, that there exists some sort of pattern that lays within the various belief systems, and that one must draw their own conclusions from them. The platitude is no more than how the human mind understands itself by reacting to different beliefs, no different than how one would understand what forms of art they like or dislike...
...but, to Vlad Masters, they serve a different purpose altogether.
All around him are documents, fetishes, and trinkets from various religions and beliefs, ranging from Christianity and Islam, to Voodoo and Wicca, to Hinduism and Chaos Magick, and more. He sits cross-legged among the various objects of belief, with scents of incense and herbs burning, attempting to submerse himself in a state of mind which released significant amounts of oxytocin in his brain.
Also accompanied with the religious items were some items belonging to Rhonda, ranging from bodily remains like strands of hair and blood samples, to other personal items such as an origami marriage predictor and a dress made of a shower curtain, remains of her acts of creation.
Closing his eyes in deep focus, he is Vlad Masters.
When he opens them, he is Vlad Plasmius.
He is the ghost.
Where he is now is neither the human world nor the Ghost Zone, neither the 3rd nor 5th dimension, but the 4th. He is focused in time, and how it is perceived by the countless people that have lived throughout human history. The perspective of the world he is given plays out like endless photographs of a single section over eons colliding together, coming together in a collage of various art styles.
Keeping his focus on Rhonda, he moves on to the city of Hillwood.
Looking through the history of Hillwood since the spot of land it rested on had formed with the rest of the Earth itself, he carefully navigated himself to the late 2010s, where Rhonda grew up in the city as a girl going to P.S. 118. Continuing to follow her throughout her life, he watched her grow to take the unfortunate turns in life she made.
Starting from her rejection of a jealous boy to his accosting her and him becoming one of history's worst villains, to her attempt at revenge upon him, up until her death, Vlad has made a hard journey throughout a life of luxury turned to one of pain, and, now, he has come to one of the most painful moments, which is also her final.
The head doctor pressed the syringe of poison into the IV, feeding it into Rhonda's body and working its way to her brain and heart, slowly enacting a calm and painless death for her to peacefully fade. Feeling the sedative of the mixture take effect, her vision began to fade; her eyes beginning to slowly close.
Keeping her eye on Arnold all the while, she gave her last words to the football head before departing the mortal world.
"Hey Arnold... have a good life." Rhonda said.
As the injection began its work on putting her mind to sleep, putting her into a state of unconsciousness, her respiratory and circulatory functions began to cease, no longer feeding the vital component of oxygen to her brain to continue her life. Peacefully passing away, her hand's grip on Arnold's began to loosen its grip, soon coming loose to fall down, not moving.
Rhonda Lloyd is dead.
The scene is hard enough to watch for any one being, but Vlad does his best to compose himself, remembering his mission.
Without a body to exist in, her soul began to depart to the Ghost Zone, transcending the 3rd dimension and passing through the 4th dimension on the way, she is free from the confines of time, where she exists in this plane as though she has always existed in it.
She is ready to move on to the 5th, to the Ghost Zone, and be at peace. She has no more mortal obligations keeping her existing, no variables in her equation that leave her unsolved, and she has plans to disincorporate and spread throughout the 5th dimension, becoming one with the larger ocean and becoming god.
But Vlad does not let her, giving her another obligation.
"Hold it." Vlad said.
The ghost of Rhonda, never before meeting Vlad Plasmius and only just knowing of her current situation, stopped with confusion.
"Who are you? I'm supposed to be dead. I'm supposed to move on." Rhonda said.
"Not yet. There are other plans for you. First things first, we have a situation with your father to deal with." Vlad said.
-
There are plenty of people who believe in magic, and try their best to see through the various systems developed to try to understand them, even if they lack the genius to take their knowledge as far as men like Vlad have. There are plenty of people who still believe in ghosts, goblins, and things that go bump in the night.
And just like every other are of interest that human beings garner, there are those who diminish and dumb it down to generate the most capital they can off it, while simultaneously bastardizing the original intent of the art and turn away curious minds from it that might have otherwise made greater discoveries.
Such is the case with a syndicated show known as 'ARGGH!', standing for Academy of Really Good Ghost Hunters, a show very popular with the younger generations who still possess the spark of magic and innocence, and die-hard junkies for all televisions shows on the paranormal.
The host of the show is a man named Hunter Spector, known by the viewers by the simplistically-conceived stage name 'Spectre Hunter'. He is of a rare breed of adult male who still believes in the paranormal and supernatural with a genuine fervor, taking the show across the country to seek out the most genuine cases of haunted houses and possessions that he can find...
...but, under the pressure of deadlines and scheduling, the pursuit of quality more often than not is cut at the corner for a faster product.
Such is the case with ARGGH! being sent in a small town in the south, investigating a house that had questionable leads behind it, and little more than rumors to piece together a storyline for the show together. Numerous traps and props have been set in place by the show's producers, but Spectre Hunter does what he can to provide a good show for his loyal viewers.
"Alright, cadets, welcome back to another episode of Academy of Really Good Ghost Hunters, or, ARGGH! Today, we're in a very unusual spot to find a ghost. We were on our way to New Orleans, dreaming about some jumbo shrimp to go along with our hunt for the hometown for voodoo, but we heard some good rumors about this little stop while stopping for gas and food, and we just had to make an episode around it. Today, we're in the abandoned home of Ramis Aykroyd Reitman; born in Czechoslovakia and raised in Canada during the late 1800s, he emigrated to the U.S. and resided in this very home until he died. He was a doctor with several medical degrees and great expertise in his field, but there was always rumors and controversy wherever he would go. It was allegations of intentional malpractice and even murder which drove him from his home in French Canada, and still did these allegations follow him all the way to the U.S. and to his grave. We're in his house now, where locals tell us reports of strange noises and even missing persons associated with thsi house. As we venture through, let's take a look at some of the-" Spectre Hunter began to say.
The TV host's enthusiastic history lesson was cut short by the cluttering of an object, urging him to move on for action in lieu of talk.
"Oh, you hear that? I think we're onto something! This way!" Specter Hunter said.
Spectre Hunter rushed down the hallway of the house in search of the source of the noise, putting on a show for the cameraman as he continued to record every step the star of the series took. The cameraman, however, did so with a dash of carefulness as he ran along, taking notice of the direction that he was heading.
Familiar already with the plans for the pre-scripted show, the cameraman knows that it was not what was scripted, and cannot stop himself from pointing it out.
"Hey, Hunter? Hang on a second. This isn't the way that we were supposed to go in the script." The cameraman said.
With the cameraman taking the illusion out of the show, Spectre Hunter turned around and scowled at him, berating him over his error.
"Cut! What are you doing, man? You can't stop the show like this. You're supposed to just let the magic happen." Spectre Hunter said.
"But this isn't what Murray told us to do. We were supposed to go into the foyer and just look around until we saw some light in another room." The cameraman said.
"Oh, god, Murray scripted this behind my back again? I keep telling him that does more harm to our ratings than good." Spectre Hunter said.
"He is the producer, man. He can do whatever he wants, or else our asses are on the chopping block. I'm just trying to keep my pay."
"Yeah, yeah, you just blame it on me if there's any trouble. I'm the star of the show, it's not like they can fire me from my own-"
Then, another sound came out from the silence of the night, this one resembling the clinking of metal, accompanied with a cutting noise that resembled flesh. This put an immediate end to the bickering of the two, and put them back on the job of hunting ghosts, this time perhaps finding a legitimate example of one.
"You still rolling?" Spectre Hunter asked.
"Yup." The cameraman said.
"Keep it rolling, we'll cut this out in post. Follow me."
Leading the cameraman further down the unscripted path and towards the noise, Spectre Hunter kept up his television personality, leading the viewers on with him.
"Listen to this, cadets, we've just heard ear of a noise somewhere in this house, and it didn't sound like your usual mouse or stray cat. We're moving deeper into the house, in search of whatever could be the cause of this strange noise. Perhaps, if we're lucky, we could very well run into the ghost of old Dr. Reitman himself, in the midst of one of his dastardly perversions of science on a human being-" Spectre Hunter began to say.
The speech given for the television is improvised, a mere exaggeration, made up on the fly for his loyal viewers...
...but it just so happens to be exactly what he finds in reality. Upon entering a room deep in the house, appearing like a medical room in a hospital from decades ago, he saw a glowing, ethereal caricature of Dr. Reitman, and on a medical slab before him was a human body, cut open and vivisected with organs being taken out.
Of course, Spectre Hunter is still under the belief that this is merely a show, a ruse made up by his producer, even though the cameraman does not carry this belief.
"Oh, goddammit, what's Murray trying to do? Is he intentionally trying to make the censors rev up our ratings and get us off the air?" Spectre Hunter groaned.
"What?" The cameraman asked.
"I see what you were trying to do here, telling me this was the wrong way to get a more genuine reaction out of me. This is what Murray had you do 3 episodes ago. Well, I'm sick of this Hollywood bullshit. I wanted to show something real on TV, not this garbage. And especially not this cheap gore stuff. That's for the low-hanging fruit on the internet."
"Hunter, that's not-"
Spectre Hunter walked straight up to the ghost and his victim without fear, dipping his finger in a puddle of blood by the body and tasting it. The ghost of Dr. Reitman looked to the nonplussed Spectre Hunter with curiosity, with a twinge of confusion upon seeing how unthreatened he was by the situation.
"And he especially could've done better than this Halloween store prop. This fake blood's just barbeque sauce with food coloring, I can tell from the salt." Spectre Hunter said.
"Hunter-" The cameraman tried to say.
Spectre Hunter then waved his hand straight through the ghost of Dr. Reitman, attempting to prove that it was a projection.
"See? It's a hologram. There's a projector around here somewhere, I'm sure it's hidden somewhere where we can't find it." Spectre Hunter said.
"Hunter-" The cameraman tried to say.
"Oh, and would you look at this? It looks like Murray himself decided to have a little cameo in the show as the corpse. How original of him. Well, joke's over, Murray. I'm not falling for it. Go ahead and get up. I'm not finishing this take."
While he had correctly identified the corpse his own boss, he had failed to recognize that he was dead, and not merely a man playing the role of a corpse. Poking at the shoulder of the deceased Murray, he received no response, leading him to poke him in the face instead.
"Hunter, will you listen to me, man?" The cameraman asked.
"Not now. I know what the deal is here, and I'm not going along with it. Murray, if you don't quit the act, I'm quitting the show, and you won't have any show anymore at all. You got that? C'mon and get up." Spectre Hunter said.
Spectre Hunter waved his hand underneath the medical slab, trying to find how the 'effect' of a vivisected body would be accomplished, but found nothing. Regardless, he did not let this stop his efforts to 'stop' the show, grabbing onto the shoulder of Murray's body and beginning to pull.
"God, I don't know how you did this effect, but I'll give you that you definitely lost some weight since-" Spectre Hunter began to say.
In trying to take Murray off the table, Spectre Hunter managed to only remove the top half of his body, which slid off and fell to the floor with a splat.
"Hunter? You gonna listen to me now?" The cameraman asked.
Standing up with a sudden sense of fear and realization, Spectre Hunter looked to his cameraman to hear his protest.
"Y-Yeah?" Spectre Hunter asked.
"This was not in the script. We really were supposed to head to the foyer. None of this has anything to do with us... except that's really Murray." The cameraman said.
"So... You mean...?"
Slowly looking back to the ghost in terror, Spectre Hunter's look was responded with the cackling of the ghost of Dr. Reitman, raising his surgical tools towards him.
And Spectre Hunter and his cameraman screamed.
-
Over a year has passed since Vlad and Rhonda had first met, and much has changed for both, but for Rhonda far more than Vlad. She has come back to life, her soul rejoining her reanimated body, almost all of her friends have died, and her home city of Hillwood has been destroyed.
With a new life but without a new direction for it, she has chosen to remain with Vlad Masters, becoming his ward in his own affairs.
Together, they relax at his mansion in Wisconsin, with Vlad enjoying a glass of whiskey, and Rhonda sharpening one of her swords.
"You know, that leaves metal shavings in the fabric." Vlad said.
"You can afford a new one." Rhonda said.
"I'm only still rich now because I made smarter money choices. One of those is not wasting money needlessly. Please refrain from sharpening your weapons on my couch."
"Fine."
Setting her sword on the table in a rude manner, Rhonda's retreat into a cold attitude elicited a more compassionate attitude from Vlad, trying to calm her nerves.
"Listen. I won't try to pretend like I know what it is you're going through. But I know that I'm partially responsible, and I take that blame in full. I figured the least I could do is give you a place to stay and work things out, decide what you want to do. But I would appreciate it if you try to acknowledge that I'm trying to fix things." Vlad said.
"Okay." Rhonda said.
"And you shouldn't hesitate if you feel like there's something you need to say. You can always talk to me, you know."
"Whatever. You're not my dad, you know."
"No, I'm not. Hell, I'm not even a dad to my own children. But I'm willing to try to be someone who can help. You take your time if need be, but I do want to try to get you somewhere better than... whatever this is."
"Fine."
A brief moment of silence allows them both some reflection, but it is cut short by a phone ringing on Vlad's desk, which he promptly answered.
"Hello? Yes, that's me. Yes, I'm serious. Mmm-hmm... I see... Yes... Yes, I'll be there as soon as possible. Thank you." Vlad said.
Hanging up the phone, Vlad stood up from his seat, gaining Rhonda's attention with his display of seriousness.
"Looks like we've got a job to do." Vlad said.
-
And 'as soon as possible' is not too long at all for a man who can fly, for Vlad reached the city of New Orleans in a mere few minutes, only stopping outside the intended destination to obtain a taxi. Obtaining their normal transportation, their taxi drove up to the scene of the haunted house, with Vlad and Rhonda stepping out.
Keeping themselves discreet and inconspicous to the public, Vlad is still in his human form in a suit, where Rhonda was in all black leather with red accents, with a trenchcoat over it. The instant they arrived, Vlad and Rhonda were greeted by ARGGH!'s Spectre Hunter and a police officer, with the show's crew and law enforcement about.
"Mr. Masters! Oh, thank god you're here. But, uh, how'd you get here so quickly? We only called a few minutes ago." Spectre Hunter said.
"I get frequent flyer miles. What are we dealing with here?" Vlad asked.
"A ghost of a deranged serial killer who was also a doctor in the early 1900s. He already killed my producer, and I just barely made it out with my cameraman. We thought it was staged by him, but I found out it wasn't a little too late."
"So you're one of those crappy shows they put on the sci-fi channel late at night. And here we were, thinking you were one of the legitimate ghost hunters." Rhonda scoffed.
"Oh, no, this isn't a regular occurrence, honest. I was totally against the staged parts since day one. I wanted to give kids the real thing, honest. I read all of Mr. Master's and the Fentons' books on the subject."
"Pay no mind to my apprentice. She's not in a particularly good mood. I tune in to your show all the time, and I'm flattered you read my book." Vlad said.
"Oh... Well, then, you're welcome, Mr. Masters! Please, let me show you this way."
Spectre Hunter dashed for the door to lead Vlad and Rhonda, who shared a brief conversation before catching up.
"Let's try not to intimidate anyone, shall we?" Vlad asked.
"What, you actually like his crap? He just admitted that they stage their shows." Rhonda said.
"Not all the time. I know a real ghost when I see one. They get it right more often than not, they just don't know it."
"You actually like their crap, huh?"
"I watch every ghost show there is out there. Some of the best investigative work on the planet when it comes to the afterlife."
The two caught up with Spectre Hunter, being led past the police and show crew to reach the front door.
"Now, I have to warn you guys, it was pretty brutal, what I saw in there. I wouldn't go in there alone." Spectre Hunter said.
"Well, worry not, Mr. Hunter, you won't be. My apprentice will go in alone." Vlad said.
"Actually, 'Hunter' is my first name, I just swap them to be my stage na- Come again?"
"My apprentice will go in and see to the ghost herself."
"Wait... really? Is... Is that safe?"
"Perfectly. She's been trained for this. Right?"
"Right." Rhonda said.
"Well... I mean, I don't wanna sound out of line here, you are the experts, but... This thing killed a man. Doesn't that scare you at all?" Spectre Hunter asked.
"I've dealt with something far scarier than that. I'm not afraid of whatever's in there. So step aside."
Spectre Hunter looked to Vlad for approval, still unsure of the prospect of one person going in alone.
"I think you'd better do what she says, Mr. Hunter." Vlad smiled.
Meekly stepping to the side, Spectre Hunter allowed Rhonda access to the front door.
"It's, uh, 'Mr. Specter', Mr. Masters." Spectre Hunter said.
Taking off her trenchcoat, Rhonda threw it to Vlad, who caught it with ease and familiarity.
"Hold this, boss. I'm gonna go say hi." Rhonda said.
Entering the house of the late Dr. Reitman, Rhonda cracked her neck in a nonchalant manner, not feeling threatened or feeling any fear in her surroundings. With her trenchcoat gone, behind her back could be seen a pair of swords, no longer concealed by the inconspicuous clothing.
The weapons themselves are not the reason behind he attitude, nor even the Fenton Thermos at her side, but, as she stated once before, she has no fear of whatever is in here because she has dealt with worse. She has been to the afterlife and back, suffered violation of the worst degree...
...and she is confident that whatever awaits her is nothing serious.
Nonetheless, persuing the hallways of the home, she knows this is unfamiliar territory, and takes caution on what she is dealing with.
-
"Hey, boss, you better get some reasearch on this one." Rhonda said.
Receiving the call from his ward, Vlad, still outside the abandoned manor, turned to the nearby Spectre Hunter to get what she requested.
"What did you manage to dig up on this man's history?" Vlad asked.
"A lot of stuff. I have all our details on him if you'd like to go over it." Spectre Hunter said.
"Yes, I would, please."
Stepping over to his crew, Spectre Hunter retrieved a file of information about the ghost, handing it to Vlad to read.
-
Still does Rhonda carefully peruse the house, looking about the decor and furnishings that cluttered the building. The objects give her a small glimpse into a past time, allowing on to know what the sense of fashion of the time was, and how style was percieved from years past.
It is a topic that she was greatly interested in her own years past, particularly in clothing and other fashionable wear.
But now, she simply sees brick and mortar, and it is of no interest to her.
"You find anything on this ghost yet, Vlad?" Rhonda asked.
"Hold on, going over the file now. Nothing real big about him, just your average doctor turned murderous psychopath from the early 1900s. It looks like our Dr. Reitman wasn't all that much of a religious type, one of those deistic figures. No real particular beliefs. That should mean he comes in a standard humanoid form." Vlad said.
"Yeah, and it also means he'll be just as hard to take care of. The less religious types are always unpredictable. I like it when we can just exorcise the Christian ones by saying some magic words over a bottle of water, sprinkle it around, and call it a day."
"But that wouldn't be nearly as fun, now, would it?"
"Maybe not to you."
"He didn't appear to be all that big a fighter or bodybuilder type, but he certainly wasn't a scrawny man. He'll be decently strong, maybe not know his own strength yet."
"Great. More x-factors for me to consider."
Making her way into the medical room that the TV personality Spectre Hunter stepped in once before, Rhonda stood before the ghost just as they had done. Unlike them, however, she did not react in fear to the ghost, instead looking at it with an indifference reserved for a normal bystander.
And unlike the TV hosts, the sight of human bodies being vivisected does not bother her, looking on with disappointment rather than terror. Taking her time as the ghost is preoccupied, she studies his metaphysique and shape, analyzing what threat it may possibly pose should it choose to fight.
With a sight, Rhonda stepped forward to address the ghost.
"Hey. Dr. Giggles. I'm not a med student, but I don't think you're gonna learn something new by cutting up another human being like that. If you need to go back to the basics, I'd start with dissecting frogs." Rhonda said.
The ghost of Dr. Reitman gently turned to Rhonda, lifting a finger to his mouth.
"Quiet... We're in the middle of an important operation..." Dr. Reitman gasped.
Rhonda has not been impressed nor swayed by the call for silence, and especially not feeling so when the ghost returned back to its 'surgery'.
"Listen, doctor. I really don't want to fight you. I've been in a really shitty mood for the past week. I get you wanna do your whole science thing here, but we can't have that. This little device I got here's called a Fenton Thermos. It's not exactly cozy in there, but I can either put you in here to go to the Ghost Zone where you can't hurt anybody, or I can just end your entire existence here and now. We can do this the easy way or the-" Rhonda began to say.
The ghost of Dr. Reitman turned around in a quick spin, yelling an angry roar towards Rhonda with a barbaric, pure sense of rage and hatred coming from it. Remaining nothing more but a vague representation of the emotions that the living doctor once felt, it expressed its bloodlust in one showing.
It finally gets a response from Rhonda, but not one of fear. Instead, she is irritated at the ectoplasmic saliva that splattered against her costume, needlessly dirtying it.
"A girl like me does a lot to stay clean, you know. You just made this personal." Rhonda said.
Reaching towards her back, Rhonda pulled her swords out, walking up to the ghost with the intent of using them on him. Likewise, Dr. Reitman materialized his ectoplasmic surgical tools, bringing forth a scalpel and a bone saw, preparing to use them as weapons against Rhonda.
Weilding weapons that possessed a longer reach, Rhonda made the first strike against the ghost of Dr. Reitman, cutting through his metaphysical flesh and drawing out ectoplasmic blood. Initially receiving a shock from the first showing of genuine pain that he had since he lived, Dr. Reitman looked to Rhonda's swords to find the answer as to why he felt it:
The blades of her swords were laced with ectoranium, one of the few minerals capable of destroying ghosts.
Recognizing the danger he was now in, the ghost of Dr. Reitman began flying away for his life, phasing himself through a wall, much to Rhonda's annoyance.
"Goddammit." Rhonda groaned.
Running down the halls of the house, Rhonda followed the ghost in pursuit, chasing down the undead spirit by the residual glow of its ectoplasmic body.
"Rhonda? What's going on in there?" Vlad asked.
"Nothing I can't handle. He's on the run, but I'm on his tail." Rhonda said.
Rhonda's pursuit led her into the house's library, entering a room filled with large bookshelves reaching up to the ceiling and spanning across the entire room itself. Where there were plenty of books and literature to go around, a testament to the late doctor's wealth, the doctor himself was nowhere to be found. Even with a full scan of the room, Rhonda found no sign of the ghost, making her pursuit for naught.
Until, coming into view of the human eye, the ghost of Dr. Reitman became visible, lunging forward in an attack.
[Soundtrack Cue: TT34 - Jack; Starting from 0:21]
The ghost of the doctor drove his etherial scalpel into Rhonda's back, leaving a large slash across her body and bringing forth from her a loud scream. Immediately turning to face the ghost, Rhonda began fighting back against him, slashing at him with her swords and deflecting his own weapons away.
The fight carried on for a brief burst of energy, but it abruptly ended when the ghost suddenly flew back and disappeared, falling out of the visible spectrum of light.
With her opponent gone and invisible, and her back wound already beginning to heal, Rhonda, keeping her swords high, scanned about the room, keeping an eye out for when the ghost of Dr. Reitman would strike. Unable to spot the ghost by mere sight, Rhonda patiently waited for the ghost to appear, keeping her vigilance high as her senses were made as sharp as they could be.
But that is just barely enough to allow her the reaction time against the incoming ghost of Dr. Retiman again, seeing him come towards her with his surgical tools once again. And also once again does Rhonda fight back against the ghost, slashing away at the apparation while also deflecting away his attacks.
Rhonda once again is proven to be the experienced fighter, and she is able to ward off the attack and even come close to a lucky strike of her own, but it is not enough to defeat the ghost of Dr. Reitman. Again does the ghost retreat and turn invisible, keeping himself hidden out of sight to make another attack.
She is still onto the guirella tactics the ghost is employing, and once again watches out in preparation for the attack.
"Rhonda, talk to me. What's going on in there?" Vlad asked.
"We got a smart one. This one's trying jungle tactics. He's turning invisble and tying to attack me by surprise." Rhonda said.
"Don't move, I'm on my way inside."
"No. Don't bother. I got this one."
"Rhonda, listen to me. It's the smart ones you have to watch out for, they're the ones who get-"
"Relax. I'll be alright."
Rhonda does not resume her tactics of laying in wait for the ghost to attack again, but instead makes use of her own powers to try to stop the ghost. Where she has used them only heal the wound on her back, Rhonda now makes use of her enhanced senses to feel out for the ghost.
Closing her eyes, she focused her attention on the other four senses her body possessed.
"Rhonda, are you there? Rhonda? Rhonda?" Vlad asked.
Unable to afford a quick response on her communicator, Rhonda stayed deep in her meditation, silently trying to locate the hidden ghost. While already operating sharper than a normal human's with her powers as a Spirit Master, the distraction of sight taken away makes her able to detect even the smallest of differerences in the area, allowing her to find her target.
Her sense of smell detects an ionization in the air.
Her sense of touch feels a coolness in the room.
Her sense of hearing picks up a blowing of wind.
Her sense of taste twinges at a metallic flavoring.
And it all points directly behind her, where, were she to open her eyes, her other senses would correctly prove that the ghost is on approach again.
Acting purely on her sensory information granted by her brief meditation, Rhonda struck again with her sword, cutting into the etherial flesh of the ghost. The ghost of Dr. Reitman, receiving an unexpected cut across the chest, watched as his own ectoplasm spilled on the floor, just as a human body would spill blood would he have his own now.
Immediately turning invisible out of fear, the ghost of Dr. Reitman attempted to flee to safety, but Rhonda would not allow the ghost its freedom. Throwing one of her swords in the direction of the ghost in flight, Rhonda, with her aim just as sharp as her other senses, hit the ghost.
The sword, its blade laced with ectoranium, pierced straight through the body of the ghost, and, with the sword still flying, pinned it against a wall. The ghost of Dr. Reitman attempted to free itself by squirming and letting the blade cut through itself to escape, but the process was too painful to continue, forcing it to remain trapped.
Approaching with her other sword, Rhonda sliced off the head of the ghost with one swift strike, letting its etherial head fall to the floor, where it began to dissipate.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Removing her other sword from the wall, she placed both swords in their sheaths on the back of her suit, concluding her fight with the ghost. As she walked away from the ghost, another made its entrance by flying through the outside wall of the house, landing just in front of Rhonda.
The arrival of this ghost is of no alarm to Rhonda, for she knows it well as Vlad Plasmius, the ghost half of Vlad Masters.
"Everything alright here?" Vlad asked.
"Fine, boss. Just finished him. Told you I had it." Rhonda said.
"Can't be too careful. Wouldn't go the quiet way?"
"Since when do they ever?"
"More often than not. Most ghosts just need to find their way home. Unfortunately, these ones that linger aren't the ones that want to go home in the first place."
"They're also the ones that are way more noteworthy. And make this job difficult."
"Well, at least you're alright."
"He got a cut in my back, but it's healed up by now. You can tell the sci-fi channel guys that they're good to finish their dumb show."
The casual conversation, calm and normal as it may seem regardless of its subject matter, is a distraction away from a more serious matter that festered behind them. While the head of the ghost of Dr. Reitman is long gone, its spectral body was still intact, and still active.
Worse yet, it still possessed its weapons, and prepared to charge forward, ready to enact its revenge on the one who decapiated it.
But with a quick trick-shot of Vlad Plasmius' finger, the remainder of the ghost was blasted into nothingness, permanently ending the threat.
"Decapitation again?" Vlad asked.
Rhonda let out a sigh, nodding in answer.
"And why is that not always enough?" Vlad asked.
"Because ghosts don't function like human bodies anymore. They just think they do until they figure out otherwise." Rhonda said.
"Correct."
"Nice shot, by the way."
"Thank you."
With Vlad in human form again, the duo then departed from the house, where the ARGGH! crew and law enforcement officials watched their exit with relief.
"Relax, folks. This house has been completely exorcised. You and your film crew can continue as planned without any interruption from a real ghost." Vlad said.
"What-? How'd you get in the house? The rest of the doors were locked and blocked off." Spectre Hunter asked.
"Trade secret, my boy. For now, why don't you keep to the regular schedule, and give us a call before you decide to make any detours so we can check it first."
"Y-Yes, of course, yes, sir. Thank you for all your help here."
"Don't thank me too much. You've still yet to get my invoice. Oh, and by the way..."
Vlad raised a cheerful fist, smiling as he did so.
"...keep up the good work. This cadet's looking forward to the episode on the Amityville home." Vlad said.
Spectre Hunter lit up with a smile, cheerily saluting Vlad back.
"Oh, yes, sir! I'll see you next time on ARGGH!" Spectre Hunter said.
Laughing as he left, Vlad received an unamused look from Rhonda, which he responded to with a questioning look.
"What?" Vlad asked.
"If we were in the fourth grade together, your ass would be thrown in the back of the bus with the rest of the geeks." Rhonda said.
"Geeks make the world go round, my dear. We're the ones who make the scientific discoveries that make big on the patents. What do the popular kids do to make big money?"
"Play the stock market."
"...Fair enough."
-
The two leave the state of Louisiana and arrive back at Wisconsin, where Vlad, back in his ghost form, flew down to the courtyard of his manor, setting Rhonda down on the ground. Having been carried by her shoulders all the trip, she rotated them in a stretching manner, attempting to shake off the soreness they gained.
"God, that gets so sore." Rhonda groaned.
"I could've carried you on your back, you know." Vlad said.
"Nah, the Superman carry gets way too weird."
Changing back to his human form, Vlad stepped up to the front door of his mansion, opening it to offer Rhonda her way inside.
"Ladies first." Vlad said.
Unwilling to enter the house yet, Rhonda stayed still for a moment, contemplating a thought that was in the back of her head for a long while.
"Uh, I'm not ready to hit the hay yet. I'm gonna head downtown. Have a little... 'me' time." Rhonda said.
"Been having an awful lot of that lately. Sure there's not something you want to talk about?" Vlad asked.
"I'm sure. I just need to go out for a bit. I'm getting stir-crazy."
"Alright, then. I'll just be here."
"Don't wait up for me."
Turning and walking away, Rhonda made her way toward downtown Madison, heading for her night out on foot.
"Need a ride?" Vlad asked.
"No." Rhonda replied.
Watching Rhonda walk away, Vlad did so with concern and unease. He knows that he is not her father, and that she is probably not in search for a subsitute figure, but he knows that there is something wrong with her, and that there must be something done to help her with it other than her own attempts at self-medication.
But he knows that, in another life, he has had another youth under his wing who was troubled, and he had not only failed to help that person, but what he had done for that person had led to the destruction of the population of two separate Earths. He is cautious in his approach to helping, knowing that he cannot afford to repeat that mistake.
And, deep down, he knows that he, too, requires help of his own, but has no one else to help him through it.
-
Down the streets of Madison, Wisconsin, Rhonda is alone in a big-city setting, a place not too different from the area she grew up in. As a youth in Hillwood, she has been part of a big, bumbling city full of life and people, and, as a girl, had looked to it all with joy and excitement over what she can do, knowing that much fun waited for her.
Her wealth had allowed her many privileges and pleasures that others her age could not enjoy, and this had allowed her a hedonistic lifestyle to live life to the fullest, but this has spoiled her taste for the joys of life, making even the simplest of pleasures taken for granted, and to be expected rather than to be excited for.
It is all the worse with her current state of mind, when very little is available to find escape.
However, that potentially changes when she first laid eyes on an establishment far downtown known as 'JAMIE'S PLEASURE PALACE', a BDSM club with neon lights advertising it, and faint industrial metal heard just outside of the building. The building alone is enough to catch her attention, and a spark of interest peaks in her.
She has had very poor experiences with sex in her past; once, she had been taken advantage of by another, then, she had taken advantage of another. Both are awful memories that plague her mind and bog her down with guilt, and make her few experiences in intimacy bad ones that tarnish the very act.
But she is still human, and feels the human urge to reproduce just as anyone else, and must find a means of relieving the urge.
[Soundtrack Cue: Rammstein - Du Hast]
Entering Jamie's Pleasure Palace, Rhonda was immediately bombarded with the music at full blast, with displays of debauchery wrapped in leather all about her. Men and women congregate with each other, either in opposite or same sex pairings, in dance on the floor, in cages set about the club, and doing so in an open manner.
Their acts are not full intimacy and sex; they come very close to the complete congreation on the dance floor, but those who seek to fulfill themselves do so by seeking private areas elsewhere to do so. Rhonda has no time nor patience to dance in some public show of foreplay, for she only wants to get her release quick and now.
Walking across the club in search of someone or more than one someone to fulfill her needs, she came across a man and a woman, both dressed in leather suits and gear. Like a consumer engaging in window-shopping, she finds them both physically appealing enough for her purposes, and approached them.
Upon meeting with them, the two perused her just as she did them, appearing to share the same ideas as her.
"Hey, there. You looking to go somewhere private?" The woman asked.
"Yeah. You interested?" Rhonda asked.
"Hell, yeah. I'm-" The man began to say.
Rhonda raised her hand, preventing the man from saying his name.
"Not interested in names. I just need to be used." Rhonda said.
The man and woman shrugged in response, accepting her terms with indifference.
"Alright with us." The woman said.
The three then moved along in search of a private room, finding one not in use. Each of the three took out an offering of money to a bouncer just outside of the room, paying him to gain access. Once the proper payment was made, the bouncer let the three inside, leaving them in privacy inside.
Once entering the room, Rhonda immediately stepped up to a harness meant to restrain her, undressing herself to be put onto it.
"You don't waste any time, do you?" The woman asked.
"No." Rhonda said.
"The safe word?" The man asked.
"Football."
"What do you want us to do to you?" The woman asked.
"I want you to touch me, while he whips me. Hard."
"How hard you want it?" The man asked.
"As hard as you can."
The woman began placing Rhonda in the restraints, putting her arms above her head and her feet to the floor. Rhonda had no intentions of moving or escaping, but the restraints that she placed herself in ensured that she could not even if she wanted to, providing the perfect setting for her to gain her release.
As the man grabbed a whip from the wall, selecting it out of several sexual toys laid about, the woman stood next to Rhonda at the ready.
"Are you ready?" The woman asked.
"Yes." Rhonda said.
"So, what would you have me do?"
"Use me. Do whatever you want."
Complying with the request, the woman, as ordered by Rhonda, began touching her body softly and gently, as if caressing her gently in a loving embrace. The embrace was followed by tender kisses across her skin, still gingerly caressing her with ease and care that showed compassion.
This is not satisfactory to Rhonda.
"You're going too soft." Rhonda said.
"You said I could do whatever I wanted. I like to go soft and gentle when I'm with a woman." The woman said.
"I don't want soft and gentle. I want to be used. I want you to hurt me. Starting with him whipping me."
"Hmph. If you insist. Whip her."
Beginning with a whip from the man across Rhonda's back, leaving a light red mark across it, the woman began roughly groping Rhonda's body, going for her breasts and buttocks in an aggressive manner, and licking and biting her body in a rough manner in a direct response to her previous gentle acts.
The act is partially satisfying to Rhonda, making her start to get further aroused, which became the next place for the woman to use her fingers. This is enough to make Rhonda start responding verbally, letting out light gasps and moans, and feeling the first glimpses of release that start to build.
As the emotions came, however, she was also reminded of the two instances of rape she both suffered and inflicted alike; the feelings that were aroused now had brought back these memories, and, along with it, has made her feel guilt and shame for the feelings as a whole, making it difficult to enjoy the emotions as they were supposed to be felt.
So, she demanded herself another punishment.
"Whip me again. Harder." Rhonda moaned.
The man did so again, leaving yet another red mark on Rhonda's back. It is a physical punishment that she deems herself deserving of for the act she has carried out, and it is also a sheer act of pain that takes her mind off the specific memories, focusing only on the pure stimulation of the pain itself.
But it is still not enough.
"More. From both of you. Hurt me." Rhonda moaned.
The woman complied with her order, driving her fingers deeper with one hand, and using her free hand to smack Rhonda in the face, grabbing it after to kiss it hard, attempting to leave a hickey behind. Scratches were dealt on her as well, with the woman going on her knees to dig her nails into her legs and backside to inflict more pain.
This aggression being laid on so quickly and hard laid concern over both the man and woman, who looked on their shared act with skepticism over its final results.
"Are you sure this is what you want? You're sure getting heavy into it already." The woman asked.
"I'm sure. I haven't felt that whip on me yet." Rhonda said.
The man whipped her once again, leaving yet another light red mark. The punishments have left but a few of these marks upon her, and each one has healed almost instantly with her regenerative powers. They have done naught but cause minor pain on her...
...and they are not enough to erase her mind of the greater pains she feels.
"No, goddammit. I said I haven't felt that whip at all. You've been doing nothing to me. I want to hurt. Make me bleed." Rhonda said.
"Whoa! Uh, listen, I'm not that used- I mean, neither of us really-" The man stammered.
"Just do it, damn you! I need it!"
The man uneasily complied with her order, whipping her back once again.
It still has not rid her of her pain.
"Harder!" Rhonda shouted.
The man uneasily complied with her order, whipping her back once again.
It still has not rid her of her pain.
"HARDER!" Rhonda shouted.
The man uneasily complied with her order, whipping her back once again.
It still has not rid her of her pain.
"HARDER!" Rhonda screamed.
The man whipped her once more, and as hard as he could stepping forward to have the whip leave a greater impact on her.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
At last, it has left a deeper mark on her body, this time a deep cut on her skin. The cut is deep enough to draw a large amount of blood, which began pouring onto the floor. The pain which came as a result of it is all and more that Rhonda has been looking for, giving her a temporary reprieve from her troubles with something else to focus on...
...but, the man, unaware of her own powers, thought of his own actions as a great wrong, dropping the whip in fear.
"Oh... Oh, shit... Shit! Shit!" The man panicked.
"Hey, what's wrong, what'd you-?" The woman began to ask.
Standing up and looking at Rhonda's back, the woman gasped in shock, standing back against the man and sharing the same concern for Rhonda.
"Oh, my god, what the hell did you do?!" The woman asked.
"I whipped harder, like she said, and I-" The man began to say.
Then, the immediate concern of the wound was gone. The cut left in the flesh of Rhonda's back began to heal, sealing itself up and stopping the flow of blood that poured onto the ground. With its absence, so was the pain that came with it, leaving Rhonda alone and ashamed in her own thoughts again.
Looking back to the man and woman, Rhonda received looks of fear from them both, neither sure what to make of her.
"What the hell are you?" The woman asked.
Rhonda had no answer for her, and instead lowered her head. The man had the courage to approach her, but did so only to release her from the restraints.
"Get out of here. Just leave us alone." The man said.
Left unsatisfied and ashamed from her outburst, ruining whatever intimacy or pleasure could be found here, Rhonda was left with little choice but to depart, retrieving her clothes and dressing up quickly, and leaving the room just as fast. As soon as she was gone, the man and woman followed suit, leaving at a different pace.
The bouncer outside the room took notice of both their haste and the distress on their faces, prompting him to investigate.
"Sir, ma'am, are you alright?" The bouncer asked.
Neither had the courage to answer, and instead bolted out for the exit. Looking to the third party, the bouncer kept a judging eye on Rhonda, watching her leave as well.
Once out of the club, Rhonda stopped to catch her breath, moving on soon after she had gotten her fresh air. She has not found her relief from her thoughts, nor even a release of what she had built up inside the club, and she has no choice but to return home, left to walk alone on the dark streets of Madison.
And alone she is left to face her own demons.
-
Her destination will not provide her a means of peace against her own personal issues, but it will give her a roof over her head and a place to sleep, which is good enough for the moment for her, and all anyone can ask for at the end of the day. Vlad is the owner of the home, and he currently makes use of it as his place to sleep...
...but like Rhonda, he does not find the peace that he seeks here.
His demons are far different from Rhonda's, but dire nonetheless, and make his sleep all the less easy.
Currently in his sleep, he is in a pleasant dream, where he is back in college with his classmates, Jack and Maddie. Together, they are laughing, enjoying the company of one another, and doing great work to try to pierce through the veil of the unknown and challenge what may lay on the other side.
At this moment in the dream, they share a glass of champagne together, fresh off their first construction of a ghost portal. Drinking together, they laugh and cheer in joy, holding one another in side-hugs as though they were champions parading across town to display their genius to the world.
Jack and Maddie shared a kiss, and Vlad leaned towards Maddie to try to steal one of his own, but Maddie turned her head and laughed. As Vlad leaned in, he had but kissed Maddie's neck; his eyes closed, he had not seen where his kiss landed, blindly hoping it would be on her lips.
Upon opening his eyes, however, he found something far worse had happened.
When looking at Maddie, he found her lifeless body in his arms, with a pair of puncture marks on her neck, with blood dripping from them and her skin the whitest pale from the loss of plasma in her body. Tasting the coppery flavor in his mouth, he knows that he had sucked her blood out, and, looking at Jack just as lifeless as well, deduced he did the same to him.
Dropping Maddie's body in fear, he looked down to find himself in his Plasmius form, and held his hands to his head in anxiety over what he had done.
Then, looking up from the ground, he found himself in a setting of a European villiage, with its villagers approaching him with torches and pitchforks. Knowing that he would be dead if he were to stay victim to the angry mob, Vlad immediately ran away, seeking whatever shelter he could find for himself.
His only option before him was a windmill, resting on the top of the hill he was running up. Heading inside the windmill, he closed the door behind him, barracading it with sandbags and wood beams, attempting to keep the villagers outside and prevent them from getting to him.
This plan had backfired on him, however, when the villagers began throwing their torches into the windmill. Instantly, the windmill caught on fire, and the flames began engulfing the interior, and smothering the air with deadly carbon monoxide in lieu of life-giving oxygen, the element taken away to fuel the flames.
With his doom laid out before him, Vlad let out a scream.
Then, he woke from his dream.
He rose from his bed in a cold sweat, relieved to know that he was still alive despite the contents of his dream. He has no need for reflection or meditation on the dream; he knows well what it is telling him, and he knows what he is guilty of to make this nightmare appear again and again.
Alone and without peace, Vlad laid back in his bed, uneasily closing his eyes in sorrow.
Chapter 6: Chapter 4: The Magnificent Seven, Part 4
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 4: THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN, PART 4
Childhood is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you never get another chance at it.
But that has not deterred children all throughout time to try to grow up quicker, trying to prove themselves as more mature, all for the chance to be taken seriously by the world and feel important and treated equally by the adults. In the process, they forget how they once looked at the world with wonder and innocence, and forget how they once had fun in their playground that is their home planet Earth.
This is a mistake Lincoln Loud has nearly made, but narrowly avoided.
Growing up in a family of 10 sisters, 5 his elder and 5 his younger, Lincoln has seen his siblings attain their passions and interests quicker than he could find his own, making him feel left out and lost, left behind in his own clan, condition he has already suffered from being its only male child.
Worse yet, what interests he held in comic books, particularly the character of Ace Savvy, made him feel left behind by his own friends. With media like anime overtaking the American comic book as the favorite form of entertainment for his peers, he once again felt disconnected and apart from those around him.
In an attempt to rectify this perceived mistake, Lincoln acquired superpowers of his own by stepping into a nuclear reactor. This was preordained by his second-youngest sister and resident genius, Lisa Loud, in order to fulfill her own scientific research, falsifying his report cards and making him fulfill a fake summer school assignment in order to attain her data.
The result was Lincoln Loud gaining powers over all forms of energy, and him taking the name of Ace Savvy, in honor of his favorite superhero.
The consequence was him having a slow start in becoming a superhero.
He had an initial strong start with the defeat of Lars Rodriguez, but that shot of success led to a downfall of attention soon after. It had slowly picked up once again with the arrival of various unintelligent supervillains with absurd gimmicks, resulting in nothing but minor property damage as a result of their clashes.
Occasionally, there would be the arrival of a competent supervillain, and there were 5 of these he would come into battle with:
Nailbomb, an explosives expert...
Icebreaker, a man with freezing abilities...
Decibel, who wielded sound as a weapon...
Killer Crab, a massive crab-themed villain with great strength...
...and Tommy Gunn, a 1920's gangster pastiche with a penchant for the submachine gun of the same name.
These 5 had given him more of a fight than the past pretenders he faced against, leaving him defeated and humiliated before the general public. However, with the aide of his sisters to guide him, he managed to train himself for battle with supervillains again, taking back to the streets to reclaim his fame.
However, that fame was soon supplanted by a shiny superman named the Silver Sentinel, quickly winning over the hearts and minds of Royal Woods.
For every enemy that Lincoln Loud faced as Ace Savvy, Silver Sentinel would swoop in and save the day before he could, acting like a vulture that preyed on his sustenance of fame and attention. The repetitive upstaging from the superior superhero left the name of Ace Savvy all but irrelevant in Royal Woods, and, following a meeting with Silver Sentinel after an attempt on the Louds' lives...
...Lincoln Loud decided to quit being Ace Savvy, leaving the superhero business in his hands.
However, once it became noted that Silver Sentinel eschewed his attention away from the 5 'serious' supervillains that proved to be a threat to Ace Savvy, Lincoln Loud investigated further into the intentions of the Silver Sentinel, soon finding after that they were in cahoots, with the so-called superhero acting as their personal enforcer.
This sprung Ace Savvy back into action once again, fighting back against the man who sought to profit off his home. Valiant as his efforts were, standing alone against the all-powerful silver superhuman, even fighting off the 5 villains who once bested him all by himself, he ultimately fell a helpless victim to Silver Sentinel, trapped at his mercy.
His family, however, was quick to come to action, taking on their own superhero identities as the Full House Gang, rescuing Ace Savvy from his captors.
But alongside this long list of events was a struggle far more human than caped crusaders and four-colored characters. Once having a puppy-love relationship with a girl named Ronnie Anne Santiago, the younger sister of the boyfriend of his own eldest sister Lori. All but forced upon her by Lori and the rest of the Louds, the two nonetheless did kindle a sincere relationship...
...but that took a backseat to a long-distance connection when Ronnie Anne had to move away, forcing them to stay in contact by phone and video chat instead. Along that time, a new girl by the name of Stella came to Royal Woods, and she, too, took a liking to Lincoln, and Lincoln took a liking to her as well.
Enticed by the idea of a relationship with her as one that was not forced upon him by his family, he pursued it in secret as he eschewed Ronnie Anne, putting a strain on what connection was once there. For the while, it seemed almost easy to decide to pursue the girl who was there than the one who was not...
...but that changed when Ronnie Anne returned to Royal Woods, where he was forced to face the consequences of his infidelity. Ronnie Anne had pushed away Stella on Lincoln's behalf, claiming the boy all to herself, leaving Stella with a broken heart and a head full of teenage hormones, which led her to an unusual alliance.
Locating the Silver Sentinel, she convinced the shiny superman to give her some of his own powers, allowing her a chance to gain her revenge on Lincoln Loud. Once Silver Sentinel was defeated, Stella swooped in to try to destroy Lincoln herself, with Ronnie Anne stepping in to save him, putting the two girls he liked at odds...
...but the fight was broken up as Lincoln cried out for sanity, feeling the last of his own strength give out against the struggles of life he was put through. It had garnered the sympathy of his family and the two girls, making them lend their support to a boy who tried to grow up too fast and faced the consequences, putting the battle to a stop.
In the aftermath, Lincoln chose neither Ronnie Anne nor Stella, but did not shun, them either; his decision was to allow the three a chance to grow up together and face the affair of love and relationships at a later time, when all were mature enough to do so. Stella, showing her willingness to the pledge, shared some of her powers with Ronnie Anne, allowing them both a chance to fight for Lincoln's love equally.
Staying with his decision to stay young and not rush his life, Lincoln also retired from the role of Ace Savvy. Having dispatched Silver Sentinel and foiled his plans to exploit Royal Woods, there was no need for him to keep on fighting crime, and instead left the work to local law enforcement.
Complex as this tale is, there is still one more aspect of it which has not been noted, but is one of the most important parts of all:
Lincoln Loud is one of the few rare breeds of people who possesses dimensional awareness, knowing of the existence of the Observants and often speaking to them as though they were his personal friends, willingly acting as their performer as he continued through the course of his life.
During his time as Ace Savvy, however, he had come to awareness of me, the Clockwork.
This was unacceptable for my plan.
Assuming the role of a mentally deranged individual, making Lincoln believe as though his life was being written by a fanfiction writer, I was able to convince him to surrender his ability to see through the 4th dimension. He had shared this ability with Ronnie Anne, and she still possesses it now, but I had no need to make her relinquish it, and, instead, required her as she was.
Now, with the exception of his energy manipulation powers, Lincoln Loud is but a normal boy once again, living a normal life at the age of 14 years old.
Such is the case with today as he gets up for school, of which it is that last day of for this year. Where school starts at 8 AM for children in Royal Woods, making them need to wake up early in order to ride the bus to make it to school on time, Lincoln leisurely wakes up at 7:30, far past when the school bus made its route through his neighborhood.
However, he is not concerned with this delay in his apparent problem. Instead, he continued to make his way out of bed in his early and unhurried manner, sitting at the edge of the bed in his underwear. Reaching his arms up in the air, he let out a yawn, cracking his neck as he finished.
Back when he had his awareness of the wall of the fourth dimension, this is when he would address you, the Observants, but no longer can he see you, and therefore can no longer speak to you. There is another who he aims to speak to instead, picking up his phone and dialing the number to his agent.
Having retired as a superhero, he is still well-known to the world as the boy formerly known as Ace Savvy, and has his own celebrity status and source of income made from his name. To help him handle his financial affairs, his agent, an impetuous Hollywood creature by the name of Ryan Levine, is a shark in a pool of other sharks in search of bigger and better deals for him.
"Hey, Lincoln, babe, how you doin'? Finally get your way out of bed from all those supermodels in there with you?" Ryan asked.
"Ryan, don't be ridiculous. Ever since the whole Ace Savvy thing, I haven't gone after any girls. Ronnie Anne and Stella are still trying to go after me, but I made it clear to them that I don't wanna date anyone right now, and I think that we should all try to grow up before-" Lincoln began to say.
"Whoa, whoa, Lincoln, save the monologues for a talk show. I really need to get you your own, or maybe set you up for another episode of Joe Rogan. You can talk there all you want."
"Sorry. You know how I am."
"I do, and we make plenty of money together because of it. And speaking of your two girlfriends, TMZ's been talking about you three non-stop for the past few weeks now, trying to figure out which of the two you're gonna pick, like you're the next Archie, Betty, and Veronica. It's made your stock go way up."
"I'm still not gonna pick either of them, you know."
"You don't have to. That's the beauty of it. You just keep 'em guessin', make 'em keep talking, and you just sit back and reap the rewards. By the way, got a big update on your next Ace Savvy movie. They're thinking of doing another reboot, and they want Zendaya to play Ronnie Anne, and Shameik Moore to play Clyde."
"Who's playing Stella?"
"Not in this continuity. The producers wanna do this thing where you've liked each other since you were little kids, and Clyde's part of some love triangle, it's going a rewrite as we speak. In any case, things are going well on our end here, you just get to school and be a normal kid to be more relatable to the masses."
"Got it. Thanks for the news, Ryan. See you."
"Also, Linc, got the limo on the way. Don't miss school, today's the last day of the year for you, and your big speech day."
Hanging up the phone, Lincoln made his way downstairs to the kitchen, still finding no worries against the clock that ticked closer and closer to classtime, whereas he could not be farther away from class. Going to the fridge and taking out a carton of eggs, he also selected a pack of raisins, chopped carrots, and baked beans to go with it.
A consequence of the means he acquired his powers also included his taste buds getting rearranged and reacting positively to strange mixes of foods. The eggs were cracked open and scrambled to become an omelette, with his other foods becoming the items that would be part of it.
As he began cooking the crime against food science, his phone had received a call, this one hailing from Lisa Loud, which he begrudgingly answered.
"Hey, Lis, what's up?" Lincoln asked.
"Lincoln, where are you?" Lisa asked.
"At home alone, cooking breakfast."
"Classh shtartsh in 10 minutesh, Lincoln, why weren't you on the bush?"
"Whoa, Lisa! Do I ask you about your love life? I don't need you asking me personal details about-"
"Not 'bush', Lincoln. The 'bush'! The shtreet name for the government-provided public transhportashtion for American youth to reshceive their public educashtion!"
"Oh, yeah, that. I'm taking the limo as soon as I eat."
"Oh, yesh. Of courshe."
"That's the one thing I do love about the whole ordeal with Ace Savvy I love, is all the fringe benefits of being a celebrity. In a family as big as mine, you need every advantage you can get to have a little personal gain, and what better way to do that than having your own agent to get you stuff? After all, I need to spend all that money I make on something, or else-"
"Shpare me your diatribesh, Lincoln. I am not your schizophrenic hallushcination."
"Lisa, I don't know what you're talking about with that 'hallucination' nonsense. Talking to weird, eyeball-headed people outside space and time, watching us constantly? That's kinda far-fetched."
"Now it'sh turned to amneshia. No matter."
"Why are you babying me today, anyway?"
"There's shome natshionalist gathering at school today, and you were asshigned ash the guesht shpeaker."
"Nationalist gath-? Oh! Oh, oh, right. The... The Fourth of July thing."
"Yesh, that."
"No sweat, Lis, I'm on it. Oop, hang on a sec."
Having finished cooking his omelette, Lincoln poured the food on a plate, grabbing a fork and shoveling down the contents immediately.
"Mmm... God, I love that I can't feel heat burns anymore... I don't have to wait for my food to cool down anymore... absorb more energy that way..." Lincoln mumbled.
"That remindsh me, Lincoln, don't forget your plutonium pill." Lisa said.
"Aw, c'mon, Lis, I hate those things. They taste shiny."
"'Shiny' ish not a tashte, Lincoln."
"Those things are. You ever eat one of those?"
"Conshidering that I am not a metahuman being that can no longer age or grow like a normal human being, no. But you have to eat them if you want to add mass to your body and grow taller, becaushe your endocrine shyshtem no longer funcshtionsh the way it ushed to following your transhformashtion."
"And whose fault is that?"
"Lincoln."
Swallowing down the last of his omelette, Lincoln let out a frustrated grunt.
"Okay, fine, fine. I'm getting it." Lincoln groaned.
Walking back to the fridge, Lincoln took out a lead-lined case from it, putting it on the counter and opening it, revealing a neatly-sorted assortion of plutonium shaped into pills, arranged in a way that corresponded to the days of the week, not unlike an elderly person's medicine sorter.
Returning to the fridge to take out a carton of orange juice and chocolate syrup, he mixed the two to make a beverage to down the radioactive isotope. Taking one of the pills and putting it in his mouth, Lincoln quickly swallowed it down with the chocolate orange juice, cringing at the taste of the plutonium.
"Blech... Okay, Lis, I took the pill. You happy?" Lincoln asked.
"Happinessh ish a form of delushion for the incurioush and unshcientific. How do you feel?" Lisa asked.
"Disgusted by the taste. I wish these came in a cherry flavor. But I also feel almost an inch taller now."
"Exshellent. Now you'd better get to school, classh shtartsh in 5 minutesh."
"No problem, Lis. See you later."
Hanging up the phone and returning the plutonium back to the fridge, Lincoln returned to his bedroom and dressed himself in his usual wear of an orange polo shirt and jeans, complete with a pair of white shoes. Rushing downstairs by sliding down the guardrail of the stairs, he landed by the front door, opening it to find a limosine waiting for him.
The driver of the limousine, a portly man by the name of Kirby, waited for Lincoln at the door of the limo, holding it open for him.
"Good morning, Lincoln. Today's your last day of the year, you know. High school for you starting when summer's over." Kirby greeted.
"Looking forward to it. And good morning to you, too, Kirby." Lincoln greeted.
High-fiving Kirby as he stepped in the limousine, Lincoln laid back in his seat, pulling a cold Yahoo Soda out of a mini-fridge by his side, sipping down the contents as Kirby began to drive. Beginning his commute to school, Lincoln once again indulged on his urge to espouse exposition and all thoughts on his mind, trying to fulfill the void that was once filled by the Observants.
"You know, Kirby, I'm glad I got to keep some of the fringe benefits from being a superhero without having to do any of the work anymore. I feel like Grant Morrison's Zenith, but minus having to deal with the Lloigor and Multi-Angled Ones, when he was mainly just a popstar superhero that didn't do anything." Lincoln said.
"It's an easy life, ain't it, Lincoln?" Kirby asked.
"Yeah... but, you have to admit, I did have my day dealing with the bad guys back then. I could be a capable hero when the time was right."
"Like when you faced off against the Alcoholic and had him pass out in front of you before you could fight him?"
"Well, I did say 'when the time was right', didn't I?"
"That you did, Lincoln. Some has-been comes into town and tries to set up shop on his own crime protection racket, and you stopped him all by yourself. A kid who decided to be a superhero, and one completely independent of any corporate influence in a sea of sell-outs like the Silver Sentinel was. An American hero if I've ever seen one."
"Well, not 'all by myself'. My family did all help out. I do give credit where it's due."
"And a modest young man as well. Like I said, a true American hero."
Lincoln smiled as he sipped down another drink of his Yahoo Soda, happily reflecting on his past adventures as Ace Savvy in a fit of nostalgia...
...but that soon feel short as he ceased smiling, unhappily looking at his glass of Yahoo Soda in contemplation. He knows that the words he speaks are happy and joyful regarding his life now, but, much like any past event viewed through from a calm present, it becomes preferable to the banality of the now.
"You know something, Kirby? I kind of miss being a superhero. A real one, I mean, going out and fighting bad guys. Not just pretending to be one these days as a has-been." Lincoln said.
"Ah, you shouldn't look at yourself like that, Lincoln. You know how many problems you had as a superhero? Having a public flip-flop on whether or not they like you on a daily basis? Getting your butt kicked by a bunch of weirdos in costumes? What you got now's better on your worst day than your worst day as a superhero." Kirby said.
"Yeah, but that's the thing. You don't really know what you have until it's gone. I had a lot of downs, sure, but the ups were all the sweeter back then, and beating Silver Sentinel was one of the biggest ones ever. I guess that's the thing about the past, you forget about the bad days you used to have because, in the end, they're not that important. The good days you had are. That's probably why everyone else loves me now; they realize it, too, and they kind of miss it."
"A swell sentiment, Lincoln. But you don't think maybe it's because you're one of the few former superheroes that learned how to capitalize on his name, my taking the name of an already popular superhero?"
"No, I just call that smart money management."
The two shared a small laugh at the joke, taking levity out of the moment of seriousness.
"Well, if you ever need a limo driver to get you to the bad guys, you know where to call." Kirby said.
"That I do. You could be like the Alfred to my Batman." Lincoln said.
"Alfred never drove Batman where he needed to go."
"Batman had a driver's license. I got two years before I get mine."
Coming near their destination of Royal Woods Middle School, the limousine's speed slowed down to a careful pace, as before them were a multitude of students all standing outside the school's steps and the road in front of it. They once sat in wait for the man of the hour to arrive, eager to see the guest of honor appear to their very school...
...and, with the arrival of the limo, the presence of Lincoln Loud has made them gather around it and cheer, waiting for their local hero to step out.
Putting on a pair of sunglasses, Lincoln had no intention of disappointing them.
"Kirby, hit the stereo." Lincoln said.
"You got it, boss." Kirby said.
Turning the speakers to the limousine on full blast and pushing play on the car's stereo, Kirby began playing for Lincoln an entry theme to his arrival.
[Soundtrack Cue: KMFDM - Inane]
With the ultra-heavy beat blasting out of the speakers of the limousine as it arrived at the scene, the applause and cheering that the crowd of students let out for the arriving Lincoln Loud increased greatly, their enthusiasm chemically amplified by the music playing in the air.
Slowly did the limousine pull up to the front of the school, coming to a stop just outside the entrance. keeping the moment as intentionally dramatic as possible to properly play to the crowd and increase the hype for the main star within. Not yet did Lincoln Loud step out of the limousine, as he continued to let the music play and the tension build.
Inside the limo, he turned on a fog machine, letting a cloud of haze fill the floor of the limousine, making his last preparation to face the crowd.
"You know, if there's one thing that Silver Sentinel was right about... it's about knowing how to play to the crowd." Lincoln said.
Stepping out of the limo, Lincoln raised up his arms, gaining an even louder cheer from the crowd, which Lincoln responded to with an enthusiastic yell. Running back and forth to the sides of the steps, he further played up the crowd, high-fiving the various students as he passed them by.
He kept up his theatrical antics by power-sliding down the walkway, letting out more energy to keep up the feeling of excitement the crowd was indulging in. Continuing to act like a rock star, Lincoln performed various antics seen by rock performers, like doing air guitars and jumps.
Then, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a deck of cards, he charged the entire pack, releasing them to fly off in the air. Rather than descend on the crowd, the cards exploded in a series of small pops, going off like fireworks for the crowd to adore, which they did in great volume.
Heading up to the front doors, Lincoln turned around one last time to excite the crowd, raising his arms up with his hands raising devil's horns. Walking backwards from the crowd, he stepped through the doors to Royal Woods Middle School, entering the school for the last time of his life.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Casually walking through the halls of the school, he enjoyed a moment of silence to himself, having a mob of children standing outside and cheering his praises, and Lincoln personally having his fill of excitement by way of praises from his adoring crowds of his fellow classmates...
...but, upon stepping inside the school, there were many children and peers standing in the hallways who cheered his arrival, giving him no such break.
"Oh, well. I can't help it if I'm famous now, can't I?" Lincoln thought aloud.
Walking down the halls of the school, Lincoln continued to high-five many other students, stopping for selfies and photos with others, with none willing to leave him alone to continue with his final day of school. It is a long journey to get to his locker, but he does manage to reach it, and he, never having to see it again, cleaned out all its contents into his backpack.
Upon closing the locker, he was surrounded once again, but this time not by fans, but two girls who had become very close to him.
"Hey, Lincoln." The girls said in unison.
Turning around, Lincoln faced both Ronnie Anne Santiago and Stella Zhau, standing before him in an anticipating manner.
"Oh, hey, girls. What's up?" Lincoln asked.
"It's only the last day of the school year for us, Lame-O. Next year's high school for us." Ronnie Anne said.
"Yeah. We're finally moving up to a whole new school. Aren't you excited?" Stella asked.
"I guess so. Not much to look forward to except for harder classes, when you think about it." Lincoln said.
"Boy, you're an optimistic one, aren't you?"
"I guess I'm more of a realist these days."
"Then how about getting excited about the thing today?" Ronnie Anne asked.
"The thing-? Oh, yeah, the thing. The whole speech and whatnot. I got it, no worries."
"Not that, Lame-O. We're having our final debate in civics. It's me against Stella. You get to be in the front-row seat and tell which one of us was the winner."
"It's not about winning, Ronnie Anne, we're just trying to make the last day of class fun and learn something. Besides, I got all my points ready to go, I'm sure I'm going to win the class over." Stella said.
"We'll see about that."
"Oh, yes, we will."
The class bell then rang in the school, prompting all students all about the school to head to their classrooms, which they did in a rush.
"Whoop, time for class." Stella said.
"Yeah, hang on, Linc. We'll give you the express route." Ronnie Anne said.
Stella and Ronnie Anne both grabbed Lincoln by an arm each, floating up in the air and beginning to head straight for their civics class. Utilizing their superpowers, Stella having gotten them from the Silver Sentinel, and Ronnie Anne having gotten hers from Stella, they carried Lincoln across the school at a swift pace, reaching the front door to their class in mere seconds.
Setting Lincoln back down, the girls allowed him a moment to catch his breath.
"Whoa. I'm never gonna get used to that. Glad I didn't have to worry about flying powers." Lincoln said.
Opening the door to the civics class, Lincoln, Ronnie Anne, and Stella stepped inside, receiving a backhanded greeting by the teacher.
"Well, well, I see our star students have graced us with their presence today." The teacher said.
"Sorry, teach. You know how it is, adoring fans and all." Lincoln said.
"Yes, of course. Have a seat, please."
Lincoln, Ronnie Anne, and Stella sat at their desks, patiently waiting for the teacher to give his final lecture they would have to hear him speak.
"Alright, everyone, we've gone over a lot of important topics and history over the year, and I've surely managed to keep your attention enough to help you retain at least some of that information, but today is very different. Since it's the last day of the school year, and the last day that you all spend in middle school, we're not going to go to the final lesson, but back to the start, when our country was founded. Now, who can tell me what the country was like after the United States declared independence?" The teacher asked.
"Uh... We were fighting the British?" One student answered.
"Well, yes, but what was the country like after we beat the British? Anyone?"
Stella raised her hand to answer the question, which the teacher selected her with a pointed finger.
"Yes, Ms. Zhau." The teacher said.
"The country was aligned under the Articles of Confederation, which made the federal government nearly non-existent and the states have too much power to the point where they acted as independent nations, making their own currencies and raising taxes too high." Stella answered.
"Very good, Ms. Zhau. And what was written after to be a replacement for the articles of confederation?"
Ronnie Anne raised her hand to answer, but did not bother waiting for the teacher to select her to answer.
"The Constitution. The government established the Bill of Rights to increase the power of the federal government, and make a list of unalienable rights that cannot be taken away, even by the states and their own governments." Ronnie Anne answered.
"Excellent, Ms. Santiago. And the two students you just heard answer are also going to be the ones who will carry out a small debate for us here, where we will go over one of the most important aspects not only in civics, but in almost every day of life: Compromise. Girls, will you stand at your places, please?" The teacher asked.
Stella and Ronnie Anne stood up from their seats, each taking a position by a small podium set to the sides of the teacher's desk.
"When the federal government was first created, there was a conversation and debate centered around two ideologies. One side stood for states' rights and the right to have independence, and the other stood for a stronger federal government and to have centralization. The Constitution was not the end-all-be-all in saying that the federal government has all the power. Though the federal government has its own supremacy in law, the states were left to have their own independent laws and rules regarding their own specific needs and make their own decisions based on what their populations wanted. Free travel was allowed from state to state, and people were free to live in any state they chose, making the will of the people in each state and their neighboring states' opposing decisions result in what we call the 'testing grounds of democracy'; the states are free to experiment with their own pursuits of freedom and happiness as dictated by the people. They're all players in a game trying to win and be the best state, and the federal government's the referee in the game trying to make sure they're all playing by the same rules and the players are treated fairly. So, for this debate, we're going to apply this thinking to the most simple form of government we can manage. You might've heard that test question on your PSATs that asks you the question 'If you were managing a football team, would you only let the best players play, or all the players get a chance to play?', but we're going to try to settle that here and now. Stella will take the side of having all the players play, and Ronnie Anne will take the side of the best players. Girls, go ahead and fight it out in the battlegrounds of democracy." The teacher said.
Sitting back down behind his desk, the teacher let his two students begin their debate, with each starting with their opening statements.
"Well, I'd like to start with this. It may be a cliche, but it's a cliche for a reason: There is no 'I' in team. A team is comprised of people who come together for a common goal, and that's to beat the other team. If not everyone's playing, then why even have them on the team? That's why my position is to have everyone get a chance." Stella said.
"And I'd like to start with pointing out the thing that Stella conveniently grazed over that undermined her point: A team's purpose is to beat the other team. On that, we're in full agreement. And that's why I come to the answer to let only the best players play. There's a reason why they're considered the best players. They're the people who know how to win. Regarding Stella's question, 'why even have them on the team'? Teams know how to cut bad players, it's not like they're just there as added fat." Ronnie Anne said.
"You're comparing human beings to fat, Ronnie Anne. That's a pretty bad case of dehumanization. The people on the team are all human beings, and they're all entitled to dignity and respect. They're also entitled to a fair shot, which includes actually being involved in the team. There's a difference between being put into the team, and actually playing in the game. Nobody likes being just a benchwarmer or a back-up plan. A game's supposed to be a time and place where everyone comes together for a common goal, and work together to do it."
"So in order to actually win the game, your plan is to let the people who aren't the best try to win. Yeah, good luck with that in playing where it counts. What sane coach is gonna have the guy who can't run fast enough or has a bad heart problem take the lead, just so they can fumble it?"
"You can't just assume that they're automatically going to be bad at the game, everyone gets a fair chance. And even if the worst case scenario happened, then at least they tried, and they're still on the team, and they had fun. That's what's important in a team, is looking out for all the members of your team. You can't just throw them out on the street because they didn't make it."
"If they don't want to be, then maybe they oughtta pull themselves up by their bootstraps. They have plenty of time to exercise and prepare themselves for the game. Maybe instead of spending all their time playing video games and spending their money on candy, they should've spent that time and money on things that would've made their performances better, and made it to the top of the team."
"Not everyone can make it to that top spot. Everyone's needs and abilities are different; by definition, not everyone can be the best athlete. There's always going to be people at the lower tiers. The question is: How do you account for them and see them treated equally?"
"Why should my hard work be exploited at the cost of a few moochers and parasites? I'm a hard worker and a team player, why should I have to fork over my place to some loser who sits on his ass and watches NewTube and anime all day? If they didn't make it to the top, then that's their own problem."
"You're making assumptions on people you don't even know. Everybody's got their own story, and their own experiences. Nobody fits into a 'one-size-fits-all' category of life. Life's not a universal experience, it's different for everyone, because we're all different people."
"Maybe, but there's still a matter of what you put into it. You can't just expect life to give you everything on a silver plate."
"Nobody ever said that. We're asking for the bare minimum in what's supposed to be a civilized society, and they're not getting it."
"Nobody asked to be part of society, either. You talk about this whole 'social contract' thing, but I must've missed the part where I'm supposed to sign it."
"You don't. You can't consent to that anymore than you can consent to being born. It just is, and the question is: Do you make it to where it benefits everyone, or only a select few? You apparently seem to favor the latter, and leave the rest of the people in the dust."
"It ain't my problem. At the end of the day, there's only one person that people care about more than anyone else: Themselves. When the going gets tough, look and see how your whole 'society' thing works out then."
"The whole idea is to make society doesn't get there, and ideas like yours lead to the very problem that you claim to care about preventing. You know how many countries have fallen into revolution over corruption and oligarchy, making the rest of the people go violent? That's how you lead to the destruction of a whole country."
The two debaters seemed to fully formulate their points well, and the teacher called the debate over as it became heated.
"Alright, alright, girls, settle down. I think we've had both points very firmly established here today by Ms. Santiago and Ms. Zhau. And as for everyone else, I'd like you all to think very hard on the points made here today, and think about how it pertains to yourselves and how you see yourself as a citizen in the United States of America. It's a very important personal philosophy to work out, and understanding that helps us understand ourselves just as well it does our country." The teacher lectured.
The bell rang as soon as the teacher concluded his speech, prompting the students to immediately leave for their next class.
-
Several classes are conducted and lectured throughout the day, and the school day, even if it is the last for the year, is nonetheless taxing and draining to the attention of the students and makes them require a period of rest. That break comes to them at their allotted lunch hour, in which the youths can all sit down and relax to enjoy a decent meal, whether it be homemade or provided by the school.
It is also a time when students can sit among their friends and relax as they eat together, laughing off the many moments of stress they accrued during their lessons. Lincoln sits with his friends Clyde McBride, Rusty Spokes, Liam Hunnicut, and Zach Gurdle, who all celebrate their last day at this school together over their food.
"Well, time to say goodbye to this old dump, and move on up to high school. It's gonna be the best days of our lives ahead of us now, eh, Linc?" Rusty asked.
"Yeah. Nice to finally move up." Lincoln said.
"And to think you almost didn't make it a couple of grades ago." Zach said.
"Huh?"
"You know. The whole Hillwood Effect report you did, the thing that made you a famous superhero and whatnot."
"Oh, that. You know, that was a whole ruse that my sister Lisa put me through."
"Ya still got a big ol' celebrity status, and all them superpowers. And all that cash you're rakin' in, where the rest of us gotta rake some yards for money." Liam said.
"Eh, the money is what it is. And I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm still a superhero. I just put on the face for everybody. Truth be told, though... I kind of miss being a real superhero."
"Really? Didn't you, like, really suck at it?" Rusty asked.
"Yeah, there are times I definitely did... but I still did a lot of good, including when I beat Silver Sentinel. You can't call that a sucky moment, can you?"
"I guess not."
"Besides, it did feel really great just being in the costume alone. You get to feel high and mighty, like you're not confined by the everyday problems of life, because your life is a lot more important, now that you've taken on the role of protecting others. It gives you a sense of belonging and place in the community around you, like everything finally makes sense and-"
"Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln! You're sperging off again."
"Oh, sorry. That's another thing. I feel like... I don't know, like there's someone missing from my life. There was a time when I could talk to myself, like I was talking to someone who was there, but... it's like they're not there anymore."
"Are you sure it's not just the N.S.A. on your smartphone? The Patriot Act gave the government full carte blanche to spy on all of us, you know." Zach said.
"No, it's not that. Aw, why am I even talking to you guys about this? You're just gonna make fun of me and say stupid stuff in response."
"Well, gee, you sure know how ta make a fella feel wanted, Linc." Liam sneered.
"Sorry. I guess this is just getting to me harder than I thought, and... Well, I can't talk to Clyde right now about it, because..."
The group shared a disgusted and pitying look at Clyde, who, silent the entire time, had put his attention towards his smartphone.
"Hey, Linc, what's Lori's JustFans again? I've been looking for it for almost 3 hours now." Cylde said.
"Clyde, for the last time, Lori does not have a JustFans." Lincoln said.
"Then how can she afford that fancy college she's going to, and all the stuff she puts in her dorm room? There's no way a woman like that doesn't make use of all her assets."
"She works at the mercado with the rest of the Casagrandes."
"Working for some rinky-dink mom-and-pop shop? That's beneath her. With my dads' credit cards, I can help her afford a Porsche if she'd only show me that pussy."
"Hey, speaking of pussy..." Rusty commented.
The group were then joined by the arriving Ronnie Anne and Stella, who arrived each with a tray of food, and each took a seat at Lincoln's sides.
"Hey, Lincoln." Ronnie Anne and Stella said in unison.
"Hi, girls." Lincoln said.
The greeting, followed by Stella and Ronnie Anne digging into their food, gave the table a quick moment of silence, but it was soon interrupted by the girls yet again.
"So, who won the debate? And why was it me?" Ronnie Anne asked.
"Huh?" Lincoln asked.
"You know, the big debate we just had. So, how'd I do beating down William F. Buckley over here?" Stella asked.
"Uh, yeah, uh, you both did real great, really."
"C'mon, Lincoln, give us some more details. Which point made did you agree the most with? Was it when I pointed out little miss commie's sense of entitlement to other people's hard work?" Ronnie Anne asked.
"Girls, please. I don't wanna take sides here. Why don't we just say you both did great and leave it at that?"
"The whole idea is you have to pick a side, Lincoln. Ronnie Anne thinks the whole world's a dog-eat-dog kind of place, but I actually believe in the concept of society and believe in making it work for everyone. What do you say?" Stella asked.
"Stella, Ronnie Anne, will you please? I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to make me finally break and pick one of you over the other. Well, it's not going to happen. I told you, we're all going to just focus on each other, and we're not gonna rush into anything. You're not gonna change my mind."
"Aw, c'mon, Linc, we have been working on ourselves! You know how much shit we had to read in order to get ready for this debate?" Ronnie Anne asked.
"Yeah. It's not like we don't have lives of our own. Maybe we'd like to have you be a part of it." Stella said.
"I am a part of your lives already. As a friend. Isn't that enough for now?" Lincoln asked.
Ronnie Anne and Stella went silent in response, themselves unsure of the definite answer, or if saying the wrong thing will hurt their chances.
"Hey, you gals are super-powered babes now, right? Why not forget all about Lincoln and explore your options? How about showing one of us what those superpowers of yours can do?" Rusty flirted.
Not taking kindly to Rusty's unwanted interjection, both Stella and Ronnie Anne used their heat vision to burn off his eyebrows, letting the ashes of his facial hairs fall to the table. Once maintaining a snarky, flirtatious expression, his first glance down at his incinerated eyebrows made him go cautious, sinking in his seat.
" Uh, okay, that'll do." Rusty whimpered.
"Whatever. I can wait as long as it takes. Besides, I know that I'm the clear winner." Ronnie Anne said.
"Why? Because you were here first? You might wanna re-read Craig Thompson's Blankets. Just because you think you were inseparable from your guy before, doesn't mean you won't lose him later." Stella said.
"You and I came away from that comic with very different interpretations." Lincoln added.
"Cope with it however you like, bitch. I'm still his first, and, to this date, only kiss. How much did he get out of you? Oh, that's right. A little peck on the cheek. That's weak shit." Ronnie Anne said.
Staying quiet in contemplation at Ronnie Anne's comment, Stella looked at Lincoln in thought, soon after grabbing him by the head and beginning to kiss him.
The kiss was one made much to Lincoln's dismay, still trying to hold to his standard of choosing neither girl, but Stella did not let that stop her, thrusting her tongue in his mouth to fully consummate the kiss. The act was made much to the anger of Ronnie Anne, who sat in quiet jealousy and rage, while the other boys watched on with excitement and cheered.
"Yeah, Lincoln!" Rusty cheered.
"Way to go, dude!" Zach cheered.
"Saddle up, partner!" Liam cheered.
Breaking off the kiss, Stella let Lincoln return to his seat, stirring in discomfort, while Ronnie Anne stayed silently vengeful.
"There. Now we're even." Stella said.
Smugly smiling at Ronnie Anne, Stella watched her seethe in silence, quietly planning her own revenge to be had on her.
Not leaving any time to let the group further comment on the forced act of intimacy, the school bell rang, signalling that the lunch hour was over. Normal circumstances would call the students to be sent to the next class, but, with this being the last day of the school year, not only is it a special day, but it is further marked by...
"Your speech! Lincoln, it's time for your speech, right?" Stella asked.
"Uh... Oh, yeah! I'll, uh, see all you guys in the school auditorium." Lincoln said.
The group all left the table in departure towards the school auditorium, getting ready to hear Lincoln's planned speech. The exception to this rule is Ronnie Anne Santiago, who, still seething in anger over the infringement over her perceived territory over Lincoln Loud, continued to form her plans of revenge.
And remembering the speech, she successfully gained one.
"So being his first kiss doesn't impress you, huh? Well, how about I get something else of his first, bitch?" Ronnie Anne thought aloud
As she is still in contact with the Observants, Ronnie Anne turned her head to you, sharing her plans in a vague and mischievous manner.
"You guys ever see Police Academy? Spoiler alert." Ronnie Anne said.
-
Gathering in the auditorium of Royal Woods Middle School, the students one and all seated themselves before the stage, sitting in wait for the school's most favorite student to address his classmates for the final time. Wearing Ace Savvy-themed T-shirts and merchandise, they make their support for Lincoln Loud clear, making his absence from the stage continue to whet their appetite for his appearance.
Still in wait, the students have their attention completely focused on the stage, and their attention is completely undivided. To get on the stage without getting the attention of the crowd at all is a task completely impossible; expecting one individual to show, to see another would stick out like a sore thumb.
But for someone such as Ronnie Anne, who now possesses super-speeds, it is less than a challenge to get where she needs to be. Running by in a flash, she flew at speeds that went past the area of visibility for a normal human eye to pick up, going completely unnoticed by the crowd...
"Did you feel a breeze?" One student asked.
"No." Another student answered.
...and discreetly did she hide under the podium onstage, hiding from the crowd and getting the perfect position to exact her revenge on Stella.
"Oh, this is gonna be so much fun." Ronnie Anne thought aloud.
With Ronnie Anne out of sight and out of mind, and the rest of the school unaware as to her planned antics, the event came to a start with the arrival of the school's principal, a wide-hipped Hispanic woman known as Principal Ramirez, stepping up to the podium to give an address to the school.
"Hello, hello, hello, everyone. I hope everyone's had a great final year here at Royal Woods Middle School, and learned a great deal to help you succeed in the real world, as well as forged a lot of great and strong friendships. School is a great opportunity for everyone to learn not only their place in the world through education, but through community with one another, acting as citizens in this great country on the smallest scale to work our way up to the big scale of adulthood. But today, we have an exceptional case to speak here today at the school. This individual is not only a student here just like all of you, but he's also made a very big difference in the world already. When there was a man posing as a superhero to exploit our beautiful city of Royal Woods, he was there to put a stop to him and bring justice to our town. Everyone, please put your hands together for your fellow classmate: Lincoln Loud!" Principal Ramirez cheered.
The class all rose in a standing ovation for the arrival of Lincoln Loud to the stage, who stepped up to the podium with his hands raised with his thumbs up, greeting the crowd back in thankfulness for their support. Even upon reaching the podium, the supportive cheers did not end until a few seconds that felt longer than they were, with the applause finally dying down.
"Hey, everybody. I wanna thank our principal for that lovely intro; I really enjoyed her impassioned tone, probably because I know she knows that she won't have to deal with us anymore. But wait until she sees the next grade." Lincoln joked
The class gave a laugh at Lincoln's joke, joining along with his light-hearted introduction to his speech.
"But there is another point to be made about what I did. I do love this country. After all, I share a name with one of its best presidents. But I also love superheroes. I feel like there's a connection between the two that many people don't notice. Ancient civilizations have all had their own mythologies, their stories about champions and heroes that battled against monsters and evil forces, and these myths persist to the modern-day world, passed down to other generations, but America's never really had anything quite like that. America's a relatively new country in comparison to the rest of the world. We haven't had a lot of time to develop its own mythology, where Greek, Roman, Norse, Chinese, Japanese, and other folklore have had hundreds of years to build. We've only had a few hundred years under our belts, but only recently have we had something that comes close to that same level of legend: The comic book. They've been around almost a hundred years themselves, and they've told stories about people that battled against evil beings for the good of the people. There's millions of comics out there, but, at the core of it, there's still a few archetypes that persist and get stolen from, like myths of old, and those are the characters we often look up to and cite as personal influences today. The modern world now is a lot different. Now, we've got the real thing coming in our cities. We've got the myths all coming to life. I was one of them. At least when it was my time to be one. Even the myths and heroes need to lay down their swords eventually. But I'm proud of what I did, and I'm glad I did my city right. And if I just so happened to be needed to do it again, well... I'll be happy to serve my country again. And I'll make sure not to blow anything up by accident this time." Lincoln spoke.
The final jest got a laugh out of the crowd, but the bulk of his speech gained a large, roaring applause, dying down only after a long stretch of time.
"Now, since this whole day's been about us and how we fit into our country, I'd like to end with reciting the pledge of allegiance. If you don't wanna do it, that's totally fine, that's your right. But if you do, I ask you guys to stand up with me and say it with me. You just might find it a little more invigorating and exciting than you might think." Lincoln said.
Putting his hand on his chest as the overwhelming majority of the students did, Lincoln prepared to recite the pledge, but, before a word could come out of his mouth, he felt a hand go for his fly and heard his zipper go down, prompting him to look down with confused, narrowed eyes...
...only to find Ronnie Anne underneath the podium, looking back at him with a mischievous smile, and his own eyes going wide and afraid.
" No... No, no, no, no... Ronnie Anne... No..." Lincoln whispered.
His pleas were combined with his hand making a cutting motion by his neck, desperately trying to get Ronnie Anne to stop, but his awareness of his surroundings led him to notice the crowd was still waiting on him. Trying not to arouse suspicion (or himself), Lincoln feigned an itch on his neck, covering up his nonverbal gesture to Ronnie Anne.
Putting his hand back on his chest, he cleared his throat, getting ready to say the pledge.
"I pledge allegiance to the flaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAaaagggg..." Lincoln jumped.
Lincoln's outburst of pleasure raised some eyebrows with the crowd, but they remained silent as Lincoln valiantly tried to carry on.
"...to... the... United States of... America..." Lincoln moaned.
Taking a nervous gulp, Lincoln took a moment to pant, attempting to compose himself.
"...and to the rep... PUBlic... for which it erect- stands..." Lincoln moaned.
Keeping one hand on his chest, the other went to the podium, gripping it tightly.
"...one nation... Oh, god... Ahem... With liberty and justice for-" Lincoln tried to say.
Then, both of his hands went to the podium, and he thrusted his hips forward, feeling the inevitable release brought by Ronnie Anne's efforts.
" AAAAAHHHHH! AAAAAAAHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAHHHH! OOOOHHHH! OOOOOHHHH! OOOOOHHHH! NGH... AH, AH, AH, AH! Ha.. ha... ha... Ah..." Lincoln screamed.
The audience now looked to him with looks of confusion and discomfort, but Lincoln simply looked on with a thousand-yard stare of pleasure, eeking out...
" ...all." Lincoln finished.
Despite the sudden outburst of pleasure, of which none could explicably understand, the school all applauded Lincoln, to which he responded with a bow.
"Thank you, thank you. I, uh, hope this was as much fun for all of you as it was for me. I'd like to, uh, turn the mike back to Principal Ramirez now." Lincoln said.
Stepping away with quivering legs, Lincoln let the principal take the podium, who looked back at Lincoln with a face just as baffled as the audience.
"Well, um, thank you, Mr. Loud, for such a... passionate rendition of the pledge. Now, before we go, we also do have opportunities for early college applications and dual enrollment opportunities, you can find out about those..." Principal Ramirez spoke.
Caring not for the principal's career offerings, Lincoln quickly stepped off the stage to depart to the restroom, immediately going to the sink and getting cold water in his hands. Splashing the water on his face, he rubbed it across himself, attempting to calm himself down from the excitement he had garnered.
Putting his hands on the counter, he held his head down, taking several deep breaths to try to calm himself further.
"So, how was it, Lincoln?" Ronnie Anne asked.
Feeling yet another unwanted stimulation of his raw nerves bring him to excitement, Lincoln jumped up in a scream, turning around to see Ronnie Anne.
"Ronnie Anne, what are you doing?! This is the men's room!" Lincoln panicked.
"Relax, there's no one else in here. I checked with an X-ray scan. Also, your prostate's looking a lot healthier now that I took care of it. Having more orgasms staves off prostate cancer, you know, you don't want that." Ronnie Anne said.
"Ronnie Anne, what you did was very uncalled for."
"I didn't see you trying to stop me."
"I said 'no' multiple times, and gave you a hand motion not to stop."
"You should've tried harder, then."
"I didn't want to make a scene and get you in trouble."
"Oh, what are they gonna do? Expel me? It's the last day any of us have to be here, they won't be able to do shit. Anyway, you sure sounded like you enjoyed it."
"I don't want to have this conversation with you right now."
"By the way, those plutonium pills Lisa makes you take make you taste metallic. If I didn't have these powers, I might've gotten cancer, like that one Spider-Man comic."
" Spider-Man: Reign."
"Yeah, that's the one. You know, there was a missed opportunity to make that dumb idea kind of funny if they said it was colon cancer."
"Can you please?! You know, what you did could technically be classified as rape. What if it was me doing that to you if you were giving a speech?"
"Ooh, is that a promise? Does that mean you're finally dumping Stella?"
"NO! How many times do I have to tell you guys?! I'm not picking either of you yet! And, by the way, stuff like this isn't going to help your case. It's just making me angrier."
"Well, I could always do it again. We are alone in here, after all. And, by the way, there's no way Stella can give better head than me. I can tell just by looking at her."
Sent beyond frustration with Ronnie Anne, Lincoln angrily left the men's restroom, stomping out to seek a moment alone. Ronnie Anne, raging with hormones of her own, and too brash and youthful to fully map out her feelings and sense of right and wrong, was left with a pitting feeling in her stomach, seeming to finally realize she was in the wrong.
She can feel your judging eyes upon her, and she looks back to you with shame and embarrassment, hiding it with a joke.
"Oh, come on. Like you wouldn't get a little frisky at 14." Ronnie Anne snarked.
-
The school day moved on until it came time for gym and sports, where the students were all put through various exercises and trials to maintain their bodily health. With this being the last day of the school year, the class was put through more than their usual share of exercises, giving them one final good insurance that they would be kept in good shape for the rest of the year.
The current exercise they are going under, as well as their last exercise for the class, is a challenge of how many push-ups the students can go through. The majority make it no further than 30, with some athletes making it to 40 or 50. Lincoln, once conditioned to do 200 during his days as a superhero, has gone soft over the years, yet still squeezing out 70.
The clear winners are Stella and Ronnie Anne, who, with their superpowers, do their push-ups at subsonic speeds, and reach somewhere in the thousands. Those who have concluded their exercise watch the two girls go on with a fascination that brings both jealousy and an inability to comprehend, leaving them all completely silent.
Eventually, the coach grew bored by watching the two, knowing that they would not find a stopping point, and blew a whistle to call the challenge over.
"Alright, Ms. Santiago, Ms. Zhau, how many did you each do? I lost count." The coach asked.
"4,284." Stella said.
"4,28 5, I won!" Ronnie Anne shouted.
"Well, Royal Woods High School is gonna have a hell of a hard time trying to find some exercises to test you two, they might have to start getting entire skyscrapers for you to bench-press. Anyway, that's it for today. You kids get some water, then hit the showers." The coach said.
Leaving the children to attend to his other affairs, the coach dismissed the students to rehydrate from the hot summer day, grouping up with each other to chat regarding their respective school days. Ronnie Anne and Stella, however, shared sneers at each other, with Ronnie Anne maintaining a smug smile of superiority in her minor achievement.
"Nice try, ladyboy. I'm sure you'll do better next time." Ronnie Anne said.
"For the last time, I'm not Thai, and that's an extremely racist stereotype. I'm Filipino." Stella said.
"The joke applies to all south Asians."
"The only reason you can do that many is because you have your powers, and it's only because of me you have them, you know."
"And you're the idiot who gave me them. I believe you said you wanted to have an 'equal playing field' on getting Lincoln? Buyer's remorse much on those bleeding heart liberal ideas?"
"Man, what is with you today? Is this just a hormonal imbalance day, or are you usually this bitchy and I just tune it out?"
"Nope. I just thought you might like to know I finally 1-upped you on Lincoln. I became another one of his firsts."
"What?"
"Oh, I'm not gonna tell you. I'm just gonna let it linger in your mind rent-free."
"Yeah, right. And I suppose you'd be saying that he goes to another school if he wasn't at this one?"
"Ha-ha. Believe whatever you want, Stella. I'm gonna hit the shower."
Departing to the showers, Ronnie Anne left Stella to contemplate her gloating, beginning to ponder just what she implied by her statement.
Concurrently, Lincoln, tired from his workout, relaxed on the field alongside Clyde, drinking a bottle of water to hydrate himself against the water his body lost through sweat. Rather than take a reasonable approach like his best friend, Clyde laid down and made discreet grunting sounds, holding a strained look on his face.
"Clyde, what are you doing?" Lincoln asked.
"I'm doing my kegels. They help maintain your erection and make your ejaculations stronger. I'm practicing for my wedding night with Lori." Clyde said.
"Clyde, for the love of god, that's not gonna happen. Why are you continuing to delude yourself like this? This is embarrassing."
"I'm working towards a goal, Lincoln. It's good to have a goal in life. Like when you had your goal of being a superhero."
The mentioning of Lincoln's past as a hero had once again brought him to deeper contemplation, looking back on the past with uncertainty towards the future.
"Yeah, well... I don't know. I still kind of miss it. It's like... you had that one high in life, and nothing else really compares. I mean, can you picture me being a construction worker or an office worker and being just as happy there as I was back then? I'd be living like a has-been, like the one guy who peaked in high school and always talks about it. I don't wanna be that." Lincoln said.
"You never know, man. I'm sure there's something you can find to do that makes you happy. I'm gonna become a sexologist and learn all about female anatomy, so I can give Lori the best orgasms of her life and make her forget all about Bobby and leave him for me." Clyde said.
" Ugh...Yeah, whatever, Clyde."
Getting no help out of Clyde, Lincoln laid back and looked at the sky in discontent. His silence was momentary as Stella arrived towards him, happily greeting him.
"Hey, Linc." Stella said.
"Oh, hey, Stella." Lincoln said.
"That was a... very interesting speech you gave today. Particularly how you handled the pledge of allegiance."
"Oh, yeah, uh, that was... It was whatever."
"Hey, you alright, Lincoln? You're looking about a million miles away right now."
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
"Just... stuff. About growing up again."
Stella seated herself next to Lincoln, compassionately listening to his concerns.
"Anything you want to share?" Stella asked.
"Well... nothing I haven't already. Just missing the glory days when I was a superhero, and life was a lot more exciting than what it is now. I just feel so busy and frustrated." Lincoln said.
"Yeah, I know how that feels. Nobody likes having to grow up, huh?"
"No. But... I don't mean to sound mean when I say this... I just can't stand seeing you and Ronnie Anne fight over me like this. I wanted us all to be friends, but you two always butt heads with each other, all in a game to get me. I told you guys, I'm not ready for that."
"I'm sorry, Lincoln. It's just... We had such a good time together when we were dating, and... Like you said, it's a high that doesn't compare to anything else. I do value you as a person, and I don't wanna rush you, but... Well, I'm a human being with feelings, and I can't help but feel the way I feel."
"It's my feelings, too."
"I know that. And the last thing I wanna do is hurt them. And I do like being your friend."
"I know. I like being your friend, too. But when you do forceful things like kiss me in front of everybody, it just makes me feel so used."
"Ugh... I'm sorry, Lincoln. That was really stupid of me. I don't know what comes over me, it's Ronnie Anne and her smug attitude, I just feel this need to put that bitch in her place and make her-"
Recognizing her aggressive attitude, Stella stopped herself short, not wishing to wastefully indulge on angry emotions.
"Sorry. I know, I know, you want us to be friends. But it really does feel like she doesn't want that, and I don't know how to work around that. And I'm trying my best." Stella said.
"Well, at least I know you wouldn't go so far as to suck me off under the podium to get back at Ronnie Anne like she did today." Lincoln said.
"Heh, yeah, that would- Come again?"
Realizing the potential problem that he rose from mentioning the incident, Lincoln now sported an uncertain face and demeanor.
"Uh... Nothing?" Lincoln asked.
"Lincoln. Is that what happened at the end of your speech?" Stella asked.
"...Yes?"
Without another word, Stella stood back up, marching off to the showers in response. Fearing what would happen next between the two, Lincoln nervously festered in his seat, already beginning to ponder the possibilities of what would ensue from what he said.
"Oh, no." Lincoln said.
"Shouldn't you go stop her?" Clyde asked.
"I don't know... I was always taught never to come between girls when they fight."
"Then can you teach me how to get Lori to do that to me?"
Astounded at Clyde's complete lack of priorities and the depths of his delusions, Lincoln merely turned to look at Clyde following his question.
-
In the girls' showers of the school, the female students of the school washed themselves down, cleansing off the sweat and dirt they accumulated from their gym class to feel fresh and clean again. Ronnie Anne, while showering and cleansing herself, gossiped with fellow classmate Girl Jordan regarding her recent sexcapade.
"You really blew him under the podium? How'd you get under there?" Girl Jordan asked.
"Super-speed. I can move faster than the human eye can see. And Lincoln tried his best to hold it in, but I managed to finish him off pretty quick." Ronnie Anne bragged.
"Damn, girl. That one's definitely going in the hall of fame. You gonna take his V-card?"
"Trying to get there. He's a tougher nut to crack than he is to bust. He's still torn between me and that bitch Stella."
"Oh, come on, Stella's a nice girl. I can see why Lincoln likes her."
"Stella? Oh, she's a total wimp and a pushover. After my little podium fun, it's only a matter of time before he comes back for more. It's like drugs: You give 'em one little hit, and they'll come right back for more in no time."
"Maybe, maybe not. It's not just the personality you gotta worry about. Boob size also plays a factor. She beats you by about a cup."
"I got a much better ass, though. I'm way more athletic than her. I could absolutely beat the shit of of that little brat anytime I wanted. She's less than nothing, and she'll be back out the picture in no time."
"What about that time she went supervillain because of you? You don't think she has the balls to fight back?"
"No way. She was a bad guy for, like, 10 seconds. She'll flip-flop like nobody's business."
In between all the gossiping and trash talk, Stella, stripping off her dirty clothes, discreetly stepped into the showers, angrily yet silently approaching the offending Ronnie Anne. The other girls still in the showers, noticing a pair of eyes glowing red with heat vision on her face, immediately recognized the danger and silently ran out of the showers, some not bothering to rinse out their shampoo or cover with a towel.
The instincts of self-preservation win against the needs for decency or cleanliness, and it soon comes to Girl Jordan as she began shaving her armpit. While running the razor down her armpit, her eyes widened upon seeing the approaching Stella, accidentally cutting into her own skin and breaking the razor against it.
Ignoring the pain of the cut, Girl Jordan also departed, leaving Ronnie Anne unknowingly talking to herself.
"It's too bad she won't win Lincoln over, either. He's also pretty big for a guy his age. I've used my X-ray vision to compare with his friends, and they don't come close. Also, did you know Liam has scabies?" Ronnie Anne asked.
Not hearing a response from Girl Jordan, Ronnie Anne opened her eyes to see her gone, and, upon turning around, found Stella staring her down with glowing red eyes.
-
Back outside on the field...
"You don't think that mentioning that's gonna lead to some major incident?" Clyde asked.
"C'mon, Clyde, it's the end of the school year, and we're all going on summer vacation. What's the worst thing that can happen on the last school day?" Lincoln asked.
Before an answer could be made to Lincoln, the loud crashing of concrete could be heard across the field, originating from a hole blown in the wall to the girls' shower room, and a beam of red hot heat vision coming out of it. Also coming out from the hole was the body of Ronnie Anne Santiago, crashing into the field several yards away.
A crater was left where she landed, and, upon picking herself out of the hole, she stood up with a grunt, holding her head and back in pain. Upon opening her eyes again, she looked to see the furious and incoming Stella Zhau, flying straight towards her with both fists extended in attack.
Standing back up as the attack approached, Ronnie Anne met her with an uppercut, sending her flight into the air.
[Soundtrack Cue: Lords of Acid - Young Boys]
Kneeling down to charge up a jump, Ronnie Anne flew back up after the inversely-freefalling Stella, preparing to continue her attack in a sonic boom.
Upon reaching Stella, she prepared to throw a punch, but Stella caught it in mid-flight, punching Ronnie Anne back with a fist sent directly to her face, in turn sending her flying back in the air. Flying back towards her, Stella continued her attack by continuously beating her with several punches, making them fly across Royal Woods in their fight.
Gaining a bearing on herself again, Ronnie Anne caught Stella's punching fists, using her knee to bash her enemy in her groin, making the hard bone of her kneecap direcly impact her sensitive anatomy, making Stella groan and grasp herself in pain, nearly vomiting at the dirty move.
Raising her combined fist in the air, Ronnie Anne bashed Stella in the head, sending her flying straight down to the ground. Her impact with the ground was made in the concrete of the road, leaving a crater of destruction in the street that instantly brought traffic to a stop.
Looking up to see the incoming Ronnie Anne with a blast of heat vision out of her eyes, Stella flew away to retreat from the incoming attack, leaving the energy blast to merely deepen the crater she left. Adjusting her flight to go after Stella, Ronnie Anne pursued her down the streets of Royal Woods, continuing to trade blows with one another as they flew.
Coming face-to-face once again, they started once again trading punches and kicks, backing up their strikes with superhuman speeds and strength, creating impacts that, both landing and blocked, created shockwaves that shattered glass and blew away several objects throughout the city, on top of the jet-level speeds they flew at.
In addition to mass property damage, their fight also had the unintended consequence of doubling as a case of streaking across the entire city; as both had been previously occupying the showers, and never took the time to dress before their fight, their battle also included exposing themselves throughout the town for everyone to see, leaving many shocked and offended at the sight.
Once known as the unofficial girlfriends of a celebrity superhero, Stella and Ronnie Anne also do damage to their own statuses as celebrities, and anger the townspeople of Royal Woods by tarnishing their own images with this incident, and cover the eyes of their children in response.
Some are simply too shocked to do anything but stand and stare, such as the parents of Darcy Helmandollar, who looked at the battle with a much different reaction.
"I like girls now." Darcy said.
Their battle also came near the gas station known as Flip's Food and Fuel, who the cheapskate owner of the business currently sold a sno-cone to a child.
"Here you are, sonny-boy, you're the first customer to try to very first Flippee-Cone, made special with my patented Windex- Er, I mean, uh, blue raspberry flavoring." Flip said.
The child happily reached his mouth towards the sno-cone to consume the frozen treat, but the sonic boom of Stella and Ronnie Anne flying by resulted in the contents of the sno-cone flying off the paper cone, leaving the child unable to try his treat. Looking back to Flip with a saddened, begging face, the shop owner made a quick and immediate response.
"No free refills." Flip said.
The aerial battle continued across the city until it finally went past a squadron police car, who, upon seeing them fly by indecently, drove after with their siren raised.
"Headquarters, we got a problem with the Dirty Pair again. Apparently, they decided to have a fight across town buck naked. We're gonna need some backup on this one." The police car driver called.
Soon, their battle made its way back to the grounds of Royal Woods Middle School once again, where it was observed by the students of the entire school, watching the two continue their battle. The one whom their battle was on behalf of, Lincoln Loud, watched the fight with complete despair and frustration, feeling personally responsible for all damage being dealt as a result of their fight.
"Oh, no... Oh, no... We are in so much trouble right now... This is gonna cost so much to have taken care of... Clyde, can you talk to Ryan for me? I'm having too big a headache to deal with this right now." Lincoln said
Lincoln offered Clyde his cell phone, who then contacted his agent through speed-dial.
"Ryan? We got a problem. Code Dante. I repeat, Code Dante." Clyde said.
Still did the two girls continue to beat each other senseless while in the air, each one desperately trying to defeat the other in a mindless beatdown fueled by thousands of years of evolutionary territorial instincts. Combined with metahuman abilities that few, if not no, mortal men on this power possess, they are out for blood and unable to stop.
Eventually, the fight comes to a new turn when Ronnie Anne grabbed hold of Stella and flew straight down in a rapid descent, aiming to take her out in a suicidal dive. Unable to free herself from Ronnie Anne's grip, Stella was stuck in her hold and in for the ride, forced to try to withstand the impact.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Landing in the ground with loud, bomb-like blast, both Ronnie Anne and Stella laid down in defeat, both nearly drained of all their energy, and panting to recover from the battle they just put themselves through. Soon picking themselves back up, they glared at each other with anger and hatred, grabbing one another by the throat.
Finally, the fight was put to an end as Lincoln rushed straight to the two, frantically waving his arms as he shouted.
"Guys, guys, guys! Stop it! You're destroying half the city! What is wrong with-" Lincoln began to shout.
Lincoln's concerns and shouting came to an immediate end as he approached the two; seeing the two fully disrobed before him, all conscious thought in his brain immediately ceased, leaving him standing stupefied and silent, only able to gawk and babble with a blushing face, much to the confusion of Stella and Ronnie Anne.
"Lincoln? What's wrong?" Stella asked.
"Hey, Lame-O, you okay? Earth to Lincoln?" Ronnie Anne asked.
"Na- Na- Na- Na- Naked... Naked..." Lincoln stammered.
Upon looking down at themselves, the girls noticed their current lack of clothing, and, soon after, they noticed that several male students were running up and cheering, pulling out their smartphones and immediately taking pictures. Now recognizing the bigger problem at hand, they both covered themselves, screaming in anger and frustration.
In retaliation, they shot the phones of the students out of their hands with heat vision, destroying as much evidence of the incident as they could.
"Great. At least it can't get any worse from here." Ronnie Anne said.
Then, police sirens started to sound, signalling the arrival of the police, making both the girls groan in anger.
"You just had to say it, didn't you?" Stella asked.
-
Over an hour of time is spent over the affair of the fight the two faced, with most of the anger coming from the school and police regarding the antics of Ronnie Anne and Stella. Having been contacted on the phone earlier, the agent of Lincoln Loud, the opportunistic Ryan Levine, is the one who negotiates with both parties, and, the Hollywood type he is, successfully talked his way out of any trouble for the girls.
Most of this is helped by several pieces of paper bearing the image of Benjamin Franklin, which were handed off to both the police and school faculty.
"I'm glad we could all come to an agreement. After all, these are just kids we're talking about here, and we don't need any little... mistakes like these holding these bright young girls from a future, now, do we?" Ryan asked.
"Well, a bright future for children is what we're all about, and I suppose that wall and field needed renovations, anyway." Principal Ramriez said.
"And we've had some reports of UFOs made here and there, I'm sure we can just chalk this off as one of those inexplicable mysteries. We've got murders to deal with, after all, we can't go off on wild goose chases." The officer said.
Having successfully handled the local government forces, Ryan made his way to Lincoln, finding him leaning on a fence in frustration, heartily patting him on the back.
"C'mon, kiddo, you don't realize just how big you scored here. Two girls buck naked, fighting over you? You know how many actors I run into who have that kind of fantasy? You are one lucky son-of-a-bitch, Lincoln. And don't get me started on that BJ under the podium stunt, Ronnie Anne just gave so much ammunition to E! and TMZ, your stock just went sky-high. Well worth a few convenience fees to the locals." Ryan said.
"Not now, Ryan. You just do your thing, I need some time alone." Lincoln said.
Lincoln stepped away to find time for himself, holding his head down in despair.
"Hey, wait, Linc! We got that gig on Oprah soon, that might get bumped up the schedule after this! And we're having a special with Dr. Phil on his podcast, he's already been talking about your big speech, doing a psychoanalysis on superheroes!" Ryan called.
Lincoln paid no mind to the material concerns of his agent, stepping into his limousine in waiting with his head still sunk down.
"Hey, Linc. Helluva day, hasn't it been?" Kirby asked.
Lincoln did not reply to Kirby, still stuck in his own frustrations and anger. Kirby, in response, stayed quiet, not wishing to push his passenger at a weak moment.
The doors to the limousine opened again, with Ronnie Anne and Stella stepping inside and each taking a seat by Lincoln. Both had remained quiet upon entering, and Lincoln had nothing to say to the two when they entered, but this silence was soon broken in an attempt to make speech.
"Hey, Linc? We're, uh, we're really sorry about what happened." Stella said.
"Get out." Lincoln said.
"Lincoln, look, it was really dumb. We were both being idiots. I'm sorry, so is Stella, we're trying to-" Ronnie Anne tried to say.
" Get... out."
Sharing a look to each other, Stella and Ronnie Anne exited the limo, leaving Lincoln alone as he requested.
"So, where to, Linc?" Kirby asked.
"Home." Lincoln said.
"You got it."
Setting the limo in drive, Kirby began driving off the scene, taking Lincoln back to his destination of home, where he hoped to forget the day.
"You know, kid, we all make our mistakes, but we also know when to make up for 'em. You oughtta call 'em back or something." Kirby said.
"Not now, Kirby. This day's already been horrible already. Just let me have some quiet." Lincoln said.
"...Alright."
Leaving Lincoln in peace as requested, Kirby left the boy to fester in his thoughts, still uncomfortable and disappointed after the events of the day. Already had it began with a nostalgic desire to return to a better time in his life, and, having the pressures of the adult matters of dating and love trouble him further, he cannot do anything else but feel sorry for himself, the poor little rich boy he is.
As materially well-off and popular he is, it is no substitute for what he truly needs in life:
Guidance.
Chapter 7: Chapter 5: The Magnificent Seven, Part 5
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 5: THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN, PART 5
Poverty is the worst form of violence.
And this particular form of violence had been inflicted on the city of Hillwood, where it turned from one of the most prosperous, diverse cities in the United States into a no-man's land; gone was all form of government and society, leaving only pockets of people who congregated around arbitrary lines for survival.
Long since has economic warfare been inflicted on American cities by its own government, but Hillwood has been an exceptional case. In service of trying to combat a dangerous supervillain named the Freak, the city, resting on one of the San Juan islands of Washington state, the city was completely disowned by the government and cut off from the mainland in an attempt to isolate the problem.
It failed.
So, on December 31st, 2023, it was decided by then-president Milius Arcudi to order a nuclear strike on the city.
The entire city of Hillwood, once sent into chaos and mayhem from a nuclear bomb set off miles underground beneath it, had been finished off in a blast of atomic hellfire that wiped out all life from the city and destroyed all its infrastructure, wiping off the map what was once the greatest cities in the country.
Only a handful of lives had managed to escape, two of which were personally saved by intervention from Vlad Masters.
This is one of them, named Gerald Johannsen.
Once known as the best friend to the real man behind the Green Eye, Gerald was a nigh-inseparable friend from him. Spending most of their time together in Hillwood as youths enjoying their urban adventures throughout the city, very rarely could these two be found in such substantial disagreement or conflict.
Not to say that there were never any; no relationship, especially not a friendship, is guaranteed to be perfect. There were many instances where the two could indeed be found fighting, and perhaps to a point where they could not repair their relationship, but there would always be a time for reconciliation.
During the battle with the Freak, however, this did not seem to be the case.
Following a series of instances of broken trust, including his girlfriend becoming paralyzed from the waist down, and the death of an illegitimate niece that he did not know existed, on top of a recent alignment with a notorious crime boss to fight against the Freak, Gerald left Hillwood before its collapse, leaving the Green Eye to fight for its soul by himself.
Soon, he came to overlook these differences and mistakes to return to Hillwood, fighting alongside his best friend once more to save his city. As previously said, he was saved from certain death by a nuclear bomb by Vlad Masters, and his home town was destroyed.
The Green Eye would soon disappear from the world, but not before Gerald would attempt to make peace once more, only to fail, but not for his lack of trying.
Now, he lives in Seattle, alongside his parents and sister, where he and his fiancee, Phoebe Heyerdhal, have been welcomed in following the trauma and horrors they have suffered, where they can be part of a family and be at some semblance of peace after what they have been through.
And one of the first things they have done to put their lives back on track is to attend college, where they may better themselves and become educated to survive in the world. Choosing to start simple with a college that remained both accessible and make a decent starting point for a more advanced school, they two enrolled at the University of Washington, each taking general studies together.
At this moment, their particular classes have ended, and Gerald is currently engaging in a game of basketball. Stomping about the court with the ball firmly under his control, Gerald is, even to the untrained eye in sports, the MVP of the game, and he is the one single-handedly carrying the team to victory.
The crowd is ecstatic at the game being played, feeling the high energy of the game start to invigorate them. Many are excited for the college's home team to win, but none are more excited for the victory of the team from their prized player, and the one proudly supporting him, cheering for him to succeed...
...is the wheelchair-bound Phoebe Heyerdhal, shouting her fiancee's name in joy.
"Go, Gerald! You've got it! Make the score!" Phoebe shouted.
Jumping up to the basket with the ball in his hand, he landed a slam dunk, scoring yet another win for his team, and declaring his side the victors. The college team, the Washington Huskies, all celebrated with cheers and group hugs, mostly congregating themselves around Gerald.
Later, the game and initial celebration is concluded and followed with a much-needed shower and change of clothes for all players involved, where they could depart to meet with their family and loved ones, who all personally congratulated the players for their effort in winning the game.
Gerald is greeted by Phoebe, rolling up in her wheelchair, and immediately do the two share a kiss upon meeting.
"You did great, Gerald." Phoebe said.
"Well, I should hope so. You were doin' a whole lotta shoutin' over little old me, babe." Gerald joked.
The two shared a laugh at his comment, and, as the two laughed, Gerald moved behind Phoebe to push her wheelchair, but she instantly declined his gesture.
"Oh, no, no, Gerald, you don't have to push me, it's okay." Phoebe said.
"Why not? I'm already standin' here, and I'm going your way anyway. Might as well make myself useful." Gerald said.
"Please, Gerald. I can do it. It's okay."
Releasing his hands from the wheelchair, Gerald respectfully granted her request.
"Alright, have it your way, Pheebs." Gerald said.
The two then shared their walk down the halls of the university, sharing with each other the details of their day.
"So, you know my story already. I got through my regular classes, then won us a big game. How about you?" Gerald asked.
"Pretty good. I'm at the top of almost every class, still raking in great grades." Phoebe said.
"Looking forward to graduation?"
Phoebe hesitated before answering, knowing that her answer is one that she did not like, and she feared that Gerald would not like, either.
"I... I don't know. I know our plan was to get a bachelor's degree and move up from there to a better college, but... I still don't know what I want to do." Phoebe bemoaned.
"You too, huh?" Gerald asked.
Another somber silence was held between the two, with the foresight of both young people failing to see a successful future coming in their lives.
"Look, you don't got anything to worry about, Pheebs. You're a smart person, you can do anything you want. Me? I'm just a regular guy. Ain't nothin' special about me." Gerald said.
"Don't say that, Gerald. You're smart, too, and you've got a lot of heart. You can be anything you want, too." Phoebe said.
"Not like you. I mean, I was a C-student through and through back in middle and high school. You managed to skip a grade back when you were in fourth. The only reason I even got here with you is because of that dumb basketball scholarship. You got your scholarship for doing the hard book work, I got it for, what? Bouncing a ball around on a court?"
"It doesn't matter how you got here, Gerald. What matters is what you do now that you're here. You've been putting in the work, same as me. You can graduate and get your degree, you can make something of it."
"Like what? I got no skills. I got no passions. Most excitement I ever had was back in school with Arnold, or kickin' butt on the streets with him, that's mainly what I was good at."
Realizing he said aloud the name of his best friend, gone to the world without a trace, Gerald hung his head with a sigh in frustration.
"Goddamn, I miss him. He would've known what to do at a time like this, he was, like, the main voice of reason for everything. If only I hadn't- Because of your- I-" Gerald tried to say.
Stricken with grief and guilt, Gerald held his face with an angry groan, which Phoebe quickly silenced by grabbing his other hand and holding it to her chest.
"Gerald, don't talk like that. I miss Arnold, too, and I still don't blame him for what happened to me. Do I wish I could walk again? Of course. But I didn't let that stop me. I'm still alive, and I'm still going. You will make it, too. We're just a little unsure of where we're going from here. We've only been here a year now, we've got at least 3 more years to figure it out." Phoebe said.
Rubbing his hand against her face, she also gave it a kiss, attempting to cheer him up.
"After all, you just won a big game. This isn't supposed to be a time when you get all gloomy and upset. This is a time to be happy. Why don't we just try to enjoy the rest of the day, please?" Phoebe asked.
Temporarily stayed from his troubles by Phoebe's aid, Gerald's next sigh was a happier one, put out of his bad state of mind for the moment.
"You're right. Forget I said anything. Why don't we head home and get ourselves some dinner?" Gerald asked.
And the two shared a healthy, happy walk together, with Phoebe happily rolling herself next to Gerald as they departed for home.
-
Once arriving back home, to the current residency of the Johannsen family, Gerald separated from Phoebe to fulfill a small household duty.
"Go on inside, Pheebs. I gotta check the mail." Gerald said.
"Okay." Phoebe said.
As Phoebe rolled away to enter the house, Gerald opened the mailbox to the house, taking out the letters and parcels that arrived for the family. Leisurely sifting through the arrivals, he noticed one letter from the University of Washington with his name on it, prompting him to open and read it right away.
He had no expectations on the contents of the letter, but, upon reading them, he was not at all pleased with what he saw.
Hello, Gerald Johannsen,
We at the University of Washington look out for our students and do our best to help them succeed, but it is unfortunate that we must inform you that your academic performance has not been sufficient to sustain your scholarship.
Social life and afterschool activities are just as important to college life, but class is the utmost important part of the University of Washington. If your GPA does not go up to 3.15 or higher, your scholarship may be lost and you will have to seek out other forms of funding for your education.
We offer private tutoring from fellow students and have a library accessible at all times to
The rest of the letter is not worth reading, already has the main point been made. Hanging his head low, Gerald let out a sighing groan, taking in a great deal of stress from the news. The letter's alternate offerings to help him around his issue are of no help, and he has already decided that anything he tries will fail.
And he feels like less of a man.
-
Dinnertime comes pleasantly for the family; their food for the evening is chicken with corn and collard greens, freshly cooked by Gerald's mother with some assistance from Timberly. All sit down for the hearty, homemade meal, the Johannsen family sitting together to enjoy dinner together.
The table is mostly quiet, save for the sounds of food being chewed and swallowed, but some conversation was thrown out.
"So, how was everybody's day? Martin, would you like to start?" Gerald's mother asked.
"Oh, not a big day, really. Just the usual at the office. Our fax machine got jammed, so we had a bit of an adventure trying to get it to work again. I swear, I'll never understand how they thought 'PC LOAD LETTER' was a better thing to say than just 'out of paper'." Martin said.
"Mmm, computers these days. Timberly? How's high school?"
"Sucks. I got a big math test coming up, and I still don't know which boy I want to take to the movies. Brad and Tommy are cute, but Kevin just makes me laugh so much." Timberly said.
"Oh, yeah, the trouble with boys, I remember that. And how about our soon-to-be newlyweds and college graduates? You two must be having a lot going on together. And, Gerald, I heard you won yourself a big game today."
Caught up in his own troubles, Gerald was slow to reply, looking up from his food with his response coming after.
"Uh, yeah. Big game. It was fun." Gerald muttered.
"Sorry we couldn't make it today, you know how it is to make ends meet." Martin said.
"That's alright, I recorded the whole thing. You'll be able to see it later." Phoebe added.
"Wonderful, sounds like a good thing to watch after dinner. And how about you, Phoebe?" Gerald's mother asked.
"Good, my day was good. Just still not sure what I want to do when I graduate."
"Well, that's alright. You've got plenty of time to figure it out, both of you. And we're right here to make sure you'll take off alright." Martin said.
"I know. Thank you both, really. You've been so nice and considerate to us since we got out of Hillwood."
"You're our family, sweetie. It's not just about being nice; you're Gerald's fiancee, so you're a part of us."
Phoebe smiled at her response, taking another bite of her food.
"So, what about you, Gerald? Anything new at school?" Gerald's mother asked.
Gerald went silent again before his response, this time trying to think of what to say to his mother.
"Uh, yeah. Great. Just fine." Gerald said.
"That's good, that's good, honey." Gerald's mother said.
"Oh, I almost forgot, can you get the mail? I'm expecting a letter from some colleges I applied to." Timberly asked.
"I got it already. It's up on the counter." Gerald said.
Getting up from the table, Timberly walked to the counter in search of her expected mail, finding only bills and junk mail.
"Aw, nothing yet. I wonder what's taking so-" Timberly began to say.
Out of the corner of her eye, Timberly say a letter stuffed in Gerald's pocket, and it bore the University of Washington emblem on it, suspecting it to be the letter she was expecting. Discreetly stepping up next to Gerald, she quickly snatched the letter out of his pocket, running to the room in a childish manner to read it before Gerald could take it back.
"Hey! Tim, give that back!" Gerald shouted.
"No way! You hid this so I couldn't go to the same college as you, huh? Nice try, big bro, but you're not standing in between me and my future!" Timberly giggled.
"That ain't yours, give it back!"
"Timberly, give your brother back his letter. You know better than to take things that don't belong to you." Martin ordered.
Timberly began reading the letter in the hopes that it would be addressed to her, but found not only that it was truly addressed to Gerald, but her playful demeanor dissipated upon reading the news on it. Gerald nonverbally gestured to Timberly not to read its news aloud...
"Oh, no, Gerald, you're losing your scholarship?" Timberly asked.
...but, arrogant as she is, she still has a heart for her brother, and she cares enough to share the concern aloud, prompting the rest of the family to look to him upon hearing the news. Failing to keep his own problem a secret, Gerald groaned in frustration and embarrassment.
"Gerald, honey, is that true?" Gerald's mother asked.
After letting out a deep sigh, Gerald answered the question.
"Yeah. Apparently my grades aren't good enough." Gerald said.
Rolling herself over to Gerald, Phoebe grabbed his hand, offering her support to him.
"Gerald, it's okay. Don't worry. We can deal with this." Phoebe assured.
"How? Apparently, I can't keep my scholarship unless I get my grades up above 3.15." Gerald groaned.
"That's no problem. We can work together, I can tutor you, you'll do just fine. You can-"
"Pheebs, don't you get it? I'm screwed. I won't be able to make it."
"Gerald, please. We can work together on this. Please, sit back down. We'll talk about it." Gerald's mother said.
Gerald unhappily followed Phoebe back to the table, sitting down again to the discussion.
"Now, listen, you're going to be fine. All you have to do is study a little harder, that's all. And you got one of the smartest people we know to help you out with that, isn't that right? Phoebe'll help you blast right through it, and it won't be a problem." Gerald's mother said.
"That's right, Gerald. You got this." Phoebe added.
"And what if it doesn't? Then I gotta go get a bank loan I can't file for bankruptcy on." Gerald questioned.
"Then we'll give you some financial aid ourselves." Martin said.
"You guys? No, you're already tight enough on your budget with us just living here, I don't wanna be a bigger burden on you."
"You're not a burden, you're my son. I'm here to make sure you make it in life."
"Dad, you used to complain about the electric bill being too high. And now you wanna spend thousands of dollars you don't have on me? You're a guy that's always about business and money."
"This is a bigger deal than just a power bill. And if you wanna frame it from that perspective, then how about this: I'm a businessman who wants to make an investment in you, and I want my investment to be paying for your school to make you smarter. All you have to do is study hard to make my investment pay off."
"No, I don't wanna put that kind of pressure on either of us. Look, I don't even know what I wanna do, anyway. I can just drop out and get some simple job somewhere."
Gerald's suggestion immediately brought a negative reaction from the table, with everyone shooting down his idea.
"No, no, no, Gerald, you can't drop out. You already made it this far. You can't just stunt your life like that. And... it also won't be as meaningful going through college without you." Phoebe pleaded.
"I don't see much else choice, Pheebs. There's no way I can afford to pay for it. Unless..." Gerald trailed.
"Unless what?" Timberly asked.
"What about if I go in the Army, go on the G.I. Bill like dad did? I can just do some pencil-pushing like he did, and I'm out in 4 years. Being a veteran gives you better benefits too, right?"
"No, Gerald, son, that's not a guarantee. You could just as easily end up in combat. Wars going on in the middle east, you could just as easily be sent over for a worthless war like that. Do you really think you'd be able to make it in combat?" Martin asked.
Gerald was tempted to confess his past as a Hillwood Hero to make his point, but he looked to Phoebe, who silently urged him to keep it a secret.
"Yeah, I think maybe I could. You'd be surprised." Gerald said.
"And what if you couldn't? What if you get shipped back in a body bag? You think any of us want to see that? Or leave Phoebe on her own before you even marry her?" Gerald's mother asked.
"I can marry her before I go."
"So you can get yourself killed and leave her a widow? Before she even has a life with you as her husband?"
None of Gerald's points made their impact as he desired, leaving him desperate and upset at the conversation, and depleting what little appetite he was already holding. Discontent with the status of the argument, and losing it terribly, Gerald no longer engaged in it, but instead walked to the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" Phoebe asked.
"Out. I don't know where, I just need to clear my head." Gerald said.
"Gerald..." Martin began to say.
"I'll be back later tonight. Just give me some time."
Stepping out of the house, Gerald excused himself for a walk, leaving his troubles behind to find peace in solitude. What he leaves behind is a worried family and a fiancee even more worried, fearing for his safety more than anyone else in the house, and silently wishing the best for him.
Gerald's mother stood up and held Phoebe by the hand and shoulder, keeping her from crying over the altercation.
"It's alright, sweetie. Just give him a little time, we'll get through this together." Gerald's mother said.
-
[Soundtrack Cue: Sly & The Family Stone - If You Want Me To Stay]
Seattle was once known as the grunge capital of the world during the 1990s, hosting bands like Soundgarden and Pearl Jam, with Nirvana a town over, producing a subculture of carefree teenagers who lived each day in the pursuit of pleasure away from the angst of life, chasing after a state of pseudo-childhood to escape adulthood.
The setting is not too far off from Gerald's own hometown of Hillwood, where he experienced a genuine childhood free from troubles in a big, bumbling city that offered many avenues of fun for a boy his age. It is close enough of a facsimile to suffice as a substitute, and gives him a setting to sort out his thoughts...
...or, perhaps like the teenagers of grunge years past, escape them. He has leaned perhaps far too heavily on another to help him solve his problems, and that dependency has left him stunted in trying to solve issues for himself, forced to rely on learning lessons of life in a heuristic manner rather than a didactic one.
Unfortunately, more often than not, it has led to him coming to the wrong outcome to learn a lesson the hard way.
His begins when he approaches a bar called Allen and Albert's, a bar on the streets coming into his view. Deciding that a drink would sufficiently settle his own troubles and numb the troubles away, he stepped inside the bar, exiting the moderately warm outside to a cool, air-conditioned inside.
Seating himself by the bar, an old, bald, black bartender with a prosthetic leg stepped up to him to take his order with a deep voice.
"What'll it be, son?" The bartender asked.
"Whatever's cheap. I'm on a budget." Gerald said.
The bartender responded to the request by pouring a glass of whiskey, which Gerald took a large sip of.
"College boy?" The bartender asked.
"Yeah. Well, not for long, maybe, I don't know." Gerald said.
"Troubles?"
"Yeah."
"Money or a woman?"
"Money. Losing my scholarship, my girlfr- my fiancee's mad at me because I might have to drop out. So I guess a bit of both."
"Well, you don't wanna go droppin' out of no college, boy. You don't wanna end up some old nigga like me workin' 9 to 5 with no retirement benefits. You gotta make yourself smart. Especially when you got yourself a beautiful wife comin' soon."
"I was thinking about the Army to pay it off. Dad was a Vietnam vet."
"And leave your honey behind? Surefire way to get a divorce, lose half your shit. And that's not counting what you leave behind on the battlefield. How you think I lost this here leg?"
Gerald looked to the bartender's prosthetic limb with a cringe, fearing the possibility of that same injury befalling him.
"Your parents no help? They ain't willin' to help, or willin' but not able?" The bartender asked.
"Willing, but not able. I don't wanna be a strain on their budget." Gerald said.
"You're as good a son as they are parents."
"Thanks."
"But you shouldn't be willing to throw in the towel so fast. You could find new ways to make yourself some money."
"Yeah? How?"
The bartender eyeballed the room to watch for prying eyes, ensuring his next words would not be heard by anyone else.
"Maybe I know a guy who can give you some help. You wanna make a lot of money real fast?" The bartender asked.
Gerald looked up with a cautious eye, keeping it intrigued enough to hear the bartender out.
"How much and how fast? And how?" Gerald asked.
"Well, you finish up your whiskey, and I'll show you all the 'hows'." The bartender said.
Taking his glass and holding it up, Gerald downed the entire glass, showing his willingness to hear the bartender's offer. Nudging his head back to urge Gerald to follow, he stood up from his stool and followed the bartender, being led away from the bar and towards the bathroom.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Stepping into the bathroom and finding no one else in it, Gerald's willingness to cooperate began to dwindle.
"This ain't anything sexual, is it?" Gerald asked.
"You ain't my type, boy. I'm into pretty young Asian girls." The bartender said.
"That makes two of us. My fiancee's half-Japanese."
"Heh-heh-heh-heh... I like you already."
The two walked to a stall that read 'OUT OF ORDER', opening it to find a toilet that was coated in several streaks of brown that appeared to be fecal matter.
"Ugh... Jesus." Gerald groaned.
"It's paint. We used to use melted chocolate, but it kept attracting ants." The bartender said.
The bartender flushed the camouflaged toilet, opening the wall behind it to a secret room, and stepping into it. Though made aware of the toilet's true state, Gerald nonetheless kept a safe distance from it, tiptoeing past it in order to reach the secret room behind it.
Upon stepping past the toilet, Gerald followed the bartender into a hidden room where a shady-looking, young black man was sitting at a table, playing a game of chess with himself while perusing blueprints of a bank. Were it not for the presence of the bartender, the man at the table would be acting hostile to the unknown factor Gerald, but his presence raised the man's eyebrows nonetheless.
"Yo, who the hell is this?" The man asked.
"A kid looking to make a little money fast. I figured you could use him." The bartender said.
"You seen him before?"
"Just stepped in a few minutes ago."
"You figure a little too much for a guy you just met. How do we know he's on the level, or, worse, if he's a cop or not?"
"Secrets of bein' a bartender, kid. You can just tell people."
"Listen. I don't know what kinda thing you got going here, but I'm willing to bet it's not exactly legal. Normally, I'd be a little hestiant to get tied up in something like this, but I don't really have much of a choice right now. I only got one caveat: I won't kill or hurt anybody. Other than that, I'm down. If I do, you tell me now, I'll walk away, and we can forget this whole thing." Gerald said.
"And how do we know you won't just snitch on us if we let you go?" The man asked.
"I got a family and a girlfriend who want me to stay straight. I go to the cops, I have some explaining to do to them as well, and they aren't gonna like the fact that I did them wrong."
"But you're doing it anyway."
"Again, cause I don't have a choice."
The man thought over Gerald's argument for a brief moment, soon nodding in agreement.
"Alright. Come on and have a seat. Consider this your job interview." The man said.
Following the order of the man, Gerald sat at the table, sitting across from him.
"To answer your main concern: No, you don't kill anyone or hurt anyone beyond repair. That's not what we're about." The man said.
"You about names, or is this on a 'no-names' basis?" Gerald asked.
"Not real names."
"So what do I call you?"
"King David."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a wise one, that's why."
"I thought Solomon was supposed to be the wise king."
"Solomon also chose to worship other gods despite personally being given wisdom by the one god, and thought the best way to settle a dispute between two mamas who wanted a baby was to cut it in half. King David was the one who toppled Goliath; the underdog taking on the big man, and winning. When you can't beat an enemy by pure strength, you have to rely on tactics. On wisdom."
"What exactly's the job?"
"Simple. We rob a bank."
"Easier said than done. They do make banks hard to break into for a reason, you know."
"Not if you have superpowers."
"You have superpowers?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what's yours? Super-smarts, I'm guessing. But then again, why would you be a low-class criminal and not the wealthy industrialist type?"
"How observant you are. It's not exactly super-smarts. I can... hear machines. I can understand how they work just by listening to them, and make them work for me by talking to them."
Gerald nodded his head, readily accepting the information he was given.
"Uh-huh." Gerald said.
"Not even a little bit skeptic? Most people laugh when I tell 'em that." King David said.
"I'm from Hillwood. I've seen some weird stuff."
"Oh, a Hillwood boy, huh? Well, I didn't realize I was in the presence of a veteran. Er, no offense, bartender."
"None taken. Had a friend there who never made it out, we all know how bad it was there." The bartender said.
"Well, I wanna prove it to you anyway."
King David pulled a combination lock out of his pocket and passed it to Gerald, sliding it across the table.
"Set a combination. Make it totally random. Go ahead." King David said.
Gerald set a combination on the lock, configuring the numbers to Phoebe's birthday, then slid it back to King David.
Picking up the lock, King David put his ear to it, carefully listening to the internal mechanisms as he turned the wheel. Turning the lock in a familiar manner, as if he already knew the combination, he opened the lock, displaying the released lock to Gerald to demonstrate.
"I could hear that one from a mile away. A bank vault takes me about 3 seconds or less. 20, 30 seconds tops to grab as much cash as we can, then we split before the cops can respond. Everyone gets a 5% cut, and I keep everything else. We pull in a few hundred thousands dollars, that's a few dozen thousand dollars in your pocket." King David said.
"What do I have to do?" Gerald asked.
"Not a whole lot. You're just a hench."
"A what?"
"A hench. A henchman. A goon. Some dumb muscle. You know those nameless, faceless bad guys you used to see on cartoons every saturday morning? The ones that just work for the main villain? That's you. Only you don't have to get in a fight with any superheroes."
"Why not? You're a supervillain, right? How come you don't have a main superhero to fight?"
"You mean like that attention whore Silver Sentinel, before he hired his own bad guys?"
"I mean the Hillwood Effect. You know, how superheroes and supervillains always attract each other? If you're a supervillain, how come I've never heard of you before?"
"I can do without the pseudo-intellectual bullshit. Back in my day, we just called it 'people being attention whores'. And that's when it hit me: The old-school superheroes and supervillains always stay in the same place. Spider-Man always stayed in New York. Batman always stayed in Gotham City. Superman always stayed in Metropolis. Their villains always came to them, and they always stayed in those cities together. You know the Vietnam War?"
"His daddy was a veteran, he knows." The bartender said.
"So you familiar with the concept of guerrilla warfare?"
"My dad was a pencil-pusher, so, no." Gerald said.
"It was a tactic popular in the jungle. You hit the enemy hard, then you run away, let 'em sit back to lick their wounds, and you get away scot-free. Same idea here. Nobody ever had this simple idea: Just hit a town once, and then dip. Head off somewhere else, lay low, then hit another town when you need some cash. That's why you've never heard of me. Because I make sure that I don't get caught. But it ain't a job I can do by myself. That's where henches like you come in."
"Strength in numbers, is that it? Easier to have a bunch of guys rather than just do it alone?"
"Exactly. And all you gotta do is stand there and look scary. Just play a part, and you get a shitload of money. Then, from there out, you live however you like, live out the American Dream."
"And in your worldview, all you gotta do to get the American Dream is to commit crimes."
"America was built on crimes, my friend. What do you think happened to all the Native Americans? The pilgrims killed 'em off and took their land, and shoved 'em onto a few patches of Earth to be their new home. How about slavery, where niggas like us were taken from Africa and put to work until the Civil War came around. Or how about the War on Terror to jack the oil and get gas a few cents cheaper? When you want something, you take it. That's the American way. And we're about to steal a shitload of money. So, enough of the talking. You in or out?"
Though not perfect, Gerald's moral compass was strong enough to recognize that what he was doing was wrong, and a strong part of him was telling him not to accept the job. Stricken with his financial troubles, however, self-preservation instincts began to conflict over this dilemma, trying to decide which scenario would provide him with the best possible outcome in life.
He knows that one of the risks involved would be prison time, which in turn would put tremendous shame and disgrace on the rest of his family, and leave Phoebe without a husband. He also knows that his other options of funding his education will only bring more struggle on his family, and he is not confident enough in his own abilities to simply study hard and improve his grades.
So, he convinced himself to accept.
"Alright, I'm in." Gerald said.
"Wise decision, my nigga." King David said.
"Not a fan of that word. My name is-"
King David raised his hand before Gerald could finish, not willing to hear his real name.
"I said, 'no real names'. That goes for you and everyone else I hire. We don't want any snitches or anything that could lead back to one another." King David said.
"I've seen your faces. That ain't enough?" Gerald asked.
"Not as much as you'd think. A face can be forgotten, or be too similar to another, blend in with the crowd. Your new name with us is 'Mr. Pink'."
"...'Mr. Pink'?"
"Just be thankful you weren't 'Mr. Yellow' or 'Mr. Brown'. I don't have a 'Mr. Black' because everyone wants to be Mr. Black. Now, let's get down to business, shall we?"
Shoving aside the unimportant topic, Gerald nodded in preparation for the strategy.
"What's the plan?" Gerald asked.
-
A few days pass for Gerald, which he carried on through as if all was normal without even a hint of a sign that anything was wrong or different. Still does he shove off his family's attempts to help him with his financial situation, always shrugging it off by saying something along the lines of 'I've got it under control' or 'Don't worry about it', consequentially making them more worried about him.
They do not know what he intends to do in order to continue his education, nor would they approve if they did know, so he keeps it that way as best as he can.
Soon, the day comes where King David and his henchmen make their run for the bank. All are dressed in generic, unremarkable, and indistinct body suits and balaklavas, keeping the identities of everyone secret from the world, and each other. Even King David, despite being the leader, is dressed the same, identifiable only by his voice.
And his voice is put to good use as he explains the plan.
"Alright, I've been over this enough times with each of you. All you have to do is look tough and mean for about 60 seconds, and we get the hell out before the cops show up, and we all walk away with a shitload of money and never see each other again, forget this little episode ever happened." King David explained.
Taking out a bag of handguns, he passed out firearms to the henchmen.
"I have the only loaded gun, and I'm only using a few to shoot at the ceiling to get some attention. Yours are all empty. So if any of the psychos in the group had that idea in the back of your head to shoot somebody, it ain't gonna happen. Dead bodies attract more attention. We go in, and we come right back out; nothing to it." King David said.
Once he received his, Gerald grew nervous over the presence of the weapon and the feeling of it in his hand. He knows that he will not murder anyone with it, and that it had no means of actually harming anyone, but even the idea of having a gun in his hand is enough to set him off his relaxed state.
He has seen firsthand what one of these tools has done, and it is the reason that his fiancee cannot walk anymore.
"Everyone in the van, let's go." King David ordered.
Taking a back door out of the hidden room of the bar, the henchmen all climbed into the back of a van parked outside the building. Once his team of henchmen were inside, King David shut the doors to the back, running back up to the front and beginning his drive to the bank.
Still is Gerald nervous about the affair as a whole, breathing heavily in anxiety, catching the attention and sympathy of the henchman sitting next to you.
"You nervous?" The henchman asked.
"A-A little. I don't like guns." Gerald said.
"Don't worry, it isn't loaded. We just have to flash 'em around."
"My fiancee got shot in the back and can't walk anymore. Not being loaded doesn't help."
"Oh, man. I'm sorry about that."
"It's alright."
"I had a wife once. She died in childbirth, but she left me the sweetest little girl that god could give us."
"I thought we weren't supposed to talk about oursevles with each other?"
"You told me about your fiancee. Besides, talking's a good way to ease the tension. Not like we'll find each other again after this."
"Fair enough. So, you say you got a little girl?"
"Oh, yeah. She's real sweet and smart, I just wish that her mommy could've met her. I, uh, didn't have the means to put food on the table, but I had enough money to steal myself a drink, and, next thing I know, I'm here. After this, all my girl's problems are over."
"That's good. That's good."
"What about you? What are you in it for?"
"Paying for my college. I wanna stay in school."
"Oh, that's a big one. I feel you there, I never made it. Guess that's part of why I'm here."
"Yeah. I'm, er, Mr. Pink."
"I'm called Mr. Purple. But, between you and me, my real name's Ralph."
The willingness to say his own name in violation of the rules of the heist surprise Gerald, but his breaking the rules makes him comfortable enough to do so himself.
"My real name's Gerald. What's your girl's name?" Gerald asked.
Ralph pulled a photograph out of his pocket and showed it to Gerald, showing it to be one of his daughter.
"Ruby Jr., named after her mother." Ralph said.
"She's beautiful." Gerald said.
"Yeah."
Ralph put the photograph back in his pocket, awkwardly staying silent after sharing his personal details.
"So, uh, I think we're almost at the heist, so, we might wanna go back to the codenames now. And, uh, be secret." Ralph said.
"You got it, Mr. Purple." Gerald said.
"But, uh, you know, maybe we could go for a burger after this. We can afford it after this, after all. You can meet my little girl."
"Yeah, sure. I'd like that."
The van came to a sudden stop, signalling that the henchmen had arrived at their destination, and further demonstrated by the back doors opening.
"Alright, ramblers, let's get ramblin'!" King David barked.
[Soundtrack Cue: Ice-T - You Played Yourself]
Rushing out of the van like soldiers on the beaches of Normandy, the henchmen followed King David in droves towards the bank, following his lead to the entrance and heading inside. As soon as they entered, King David fired his pistol up in the air, instantly getting the attention of the customers with a few screams to show it.
"Everybody be cool, this is a robbery! Just stay down and don't move, and you just might get out of this alive!" King David shouted.
Heading straight for the bank vault with a pair of henchmen following him, he directed the rest of the henches to stand in strategic locations to watch the customers and employees, assuring that none would attempt to stop the robbery in progress. Keeping their guns high as if they were loaded, every henchman kept their eyes on the customers without pause.
Kneeling to the keyhole to the bank vault, King David took out a lockpicking set and stethoscope, immediately going to work on picking the lock.
"Alright, baby, talk to me, talk to me... What's your name, what's your sign?" King David muttered.
Within seconds, the door to the bank vault opened, giving King David and his accompanying henchmen access inside. The henchmen alongside him followed along with large, empty duffel bags, immediately going to the large stacks of dollar bills inside and filling their bags with them.
King David prizes himself as a strategist; he has made his formula as a means of staying to a specific script that would be in foolproof and infallable to any and all human error, utilizing his own superpower and minimal manpower to secure a quick and large payday without issue.
But even the most airtight of plans will always have an unforeseeable and unexpected variable, an x-factor that no one could ever account for. One is the fact that one of the customers of the bank happens to be an off-duty cop, and he still carries a handgun on his persons, as well as the intent to use it.
Keeping as discreet as possible to reach his weapon, his action goes unnoticed by most of the customers, and, more importantly to him, the henchmen. It is not so fortunate for them that they cannot see the threat in time; oblivious to the danger, they carry on as though the plan goes on without flaw.
The casual attitude also extends to Ralph, who cordially spoke to Gerald regarding the supposedly easy heist.
"See, kid? Easy money, just like I told you." Ralph said.
"I don't know. Maybe. I still can't help but feel on edge." Gerald said.
"A believer in Murphy's Law, are we? Relax, kid. We'll be just fine. Nobody's getting hurt."
As if the universe was waiting for him to speak these words just to indulge in a great irony, the off-duty cop stood up and aimed his firearm at the nearest henchmen, firing two bullets straight through his chest, piercing his heart and killing him. The shots make the rest of the henchmen snap to alert, but their current awareness of the danger is of no help.
Without any means of firing back, holding merely empty weapons, the henchmen witlessly run for cover in an attempt to avoid the gunfire. Some are not so fortunate to avoid the flying bullets, with two more henchmen falling dead at the killshots landed in their chests.
King David ran out from the vault, inspecting the scene of gunfire playing out in the middle of the bank. Despite having the only loaded gun out of his group, he did not intervene, instead letting the scene play out as it was. Keeping to his strategic tendencies, he carefully waited for his opportune moment to strike.
Ralph, holding some kind of kindly, fatherly instinct to protect Gerald, rushed him towards a desk, using himself as a human shield.
"Go, Mr. Pink, go! Get under the desk! Get out of the-" Ralph began to shout.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Gerald had managed to run behind the desk and reach cover, but Ralph was not so fortunate to find salvation. One bullet from the police officer's gun went through his head and between his eyeballs, splattering a mess of blood and brains on the wall in front of him to give him the sight of the contents inside his skull as the last sight he saw in life.
Hearing his pleas cut short with a gunshot, Gerald, hiding under the desk, feared the worst for the acquaintance he had made during his illegal excursion. As the sound of a body tumbling was next heard, and the sight of Ralph's glazed eyes staring emptily at him as the blood dripped from the bullet hole between them came into Gerald's own sight, seeing the dead body fall over the desk he was hiding under.
Horrified and disgusted by the undeserved death of Ralph, Gerald covered his mouth, preventing himself from screaming or vomiting.
Firing off all the shots in his gun, the officer ejected the magazine from his pistol, reaching for another on his holster to load it and continue fighting back against the bank robbers. Unwilling to let the officer take the chance to keep fighting, King David aimed his own handgun and fired at the officer, hitting him in the arms and chest, making him fall to the ground and drop his weapon.
While the officer was now no longer an imminent threat, King David took no chances to allow him any more chances to attack. Stepping up to the downed officer, he stepped on his arm, preventing him from reaching his gun again, and proceeded to empty the last of his own bullets into the officer's head.
The cruel act of violence is overkill against the officer, but it guarantees that he is no longer a threat, and this gives King David a sigh of relief.
The henchmen, assured that no such violence would occur on this job, are not only shaken over the unexpected presence of a cop and the deaths of their own comrades, but also with their leader's merciless excessive force against the police officer, seeing the gory aftermath of his rampage.
"Goddamn pig had to play the hero. Hurry up! We gotta go now!" King David shouted.
The henchmen run straight for the door as their leader does the same, taking with them large bags of money and leaving behind their fallen comrades. Gerald is not so quick to follow them; still stuck in his state of shock over the man he met mere moments ago, he cannot bring himself to focus on the job any longer, and does not acknowledge his leader urging him to depart.
"Mr. Pink, it's time to go! Mr. Pink! Mr. Pink! MR. PINK!" King David called.
Snapped out of his trance with the calls of the organizer of the robbery, Gerald left his trance to leave the building, following the surviving members to head back to the van. All piling in the back as they once did, the henchmen are shut inside as King David sits in front and drives off, taking the loot with them.
Sirens are heard getting louder and louder as the police approach, but they are far too late.
-
The robbers all returned to the back of the bar named Allen and Albert's later, where the money has been sorted and counted by King David himself. Tensions have been raised substantially both during and after the job has been done, but it has been dwindled to nigh-nothingness after the money has been seen.
"Alright, everyone, let's address the elephant in the room: Yes, this did not go the way it was supposed to go. Nobody could've guessed an off-duty cop could've been there, and nobody could've guessed that he'd start blasting. Those that died, weren't supposed to, but there's no crying over spilt milk. And, as a little back pay for the unforseen issue, and with less people to break with, I've upped your cuts to 10% each." King David said.
The henchmen all collectively cheered at the promise of more money, with the exception of Gerald, who still festered in negative emotions.
FIlling up bags with the percentages of the loot, King David began tossing them to the henchmen, who left as soon as they received their pay, disappearing as they left the bar to never be seen again or see each other. Staying back from the rest of the henchmen, Gerald is the last to receive his payment, but, still holding his own hang-ups regarding the incident, he is not so quick to leave.
While inspecting his own money, King David looked up to see Gerald still present, attempting to dismiss him.
"Now get outta here. You got your money, time to go off to college like a good boy." King David said.
"You killed a cop." Gerald said.
"That cop killed 3 of my hires when I promised them they wouldn't get hurt. And that pissed me off pretty good, so, yeah, I killed him. He also shot at unarmed people; that, on paper, should get you some discipline, but these pigs will shoot unarmed brothers like us on the street and get away with it. I just did to him what most niggas in my place would be happy to do."
"He didn't know they were unarmed. That was the point you had them for, wasn't it?"
"They didn't shoot or even directly threaten him. The pig wanted to play the big white hero, shot and killed without a second thought, and he got what he deserved."
Sighing in discontent, Gerald moved on from the topic, getting to the second of his priorities before King David could return to his money.
"Mr. Purple had a daughter." Gerald said.
King David looked up to Gerald once again, this time with more attention.
"How do you know that?" King David asked.
"He told me in the van, before we went inside. Told me his real name and his daughter's name. He was her only parent." Gerald said.
"You both broke the rules. You're not supposed to let personal information leak. That leaves enough threads for the pigs to work with."
"Does it matter now that he's dead?"
"...I guess not. Let me guess, you want to give his little girl some money?"
"Yeah. He did the job so he could feed his daughter. The least we can do is help her out."
"No can do. I admire your altruism, but that's another lead we don't want to leave behind. With her daddy dead, that leaves her in the hands of the state. We try to give her a big bag of money, the cops are gonna know where it came from, and she won't be able to keep it, anyway. And that only leaves another trace back to me and the rest of the henches. I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do."
"Fine, then, I'll just give her some of my own money."
"No. You don't wanna do that. You'd just be flagging down the pigs to arrest you. Then she still doesn't get any money. If you were smart, kid, you'd do what the rest of them did, and just lay low, and spend it slowly."
Without much choice in the matter, Gerald somberly stepped out of the back room, walking past the bartender as he departed.
"Hey, kid." The bartender called.
Gerald stopped at the bar, watching the bartender pour a pair of shotglasses full of whiskey, sliding one towards him as he raised his own.
"Sorry about your friend, kid. Shit happens." The bartender said.
"I didn't really know him." Gerald said.
"Didn't really know a lot of kids back in the Army, but that didn't make watchin' 'em get shot up any easier. Take it from me, this always helps through it."
Both downed their shots in memorial of Ralph, showing their respects for a stranger.
"Thanks for the drink." Gerald said.
Stepping out the door, Gerald left the bar without a second thought or final word, wishing merely to put the tragedy behind him as far away as possible.
-
It is late night when he get back to his parents' house, and late enough when everyone is fast asleep and unable to see what Gerald has brought back with him. Discreetly closing the front door, he shut it just as quietly, making his footsteps light and soft to ensure that he will not wake anyone up.
Making his way upstairs to his shared room with Phoebe, he opened the door, carefully looking inside with the bag behind his back, checking for his fiancee to ensure that she is not awake. Not only does he not find her awake, but he also sees no sign of her at all.
Not looking his gift horse in its mouth, he swiftly moved up to the closet, opening it to prepare to hide the bag of money inside, moving various items inside to do so.
Then, the light to the room came on, making him snap his head behind him to find Phoebe sitting in her wheelchair across the room by the light switch, looking directly at him in a judging manner. Hissing in anger with a pair of eyes closed in frustration, Gerald stood up, making no more attempts at stealth.
"Gerald. What are you doing?" Phoebe asked.
"I- I was... just looking for a jacket. It was kind of cold, and I didn't want to turn up the heat and make dad angry." Gerald lied.
"I can tell when you're lying to me, Gerald. You looked like you were doing something you shouldn't have been doing."
"I don't know what you're talkin' about, Pheebs. I was just a little cold, honest."
"You've barely been around for the past few nights, out late at night at some bar, and you just snoop around in the closet for a jacket? And what's this bag?"
Phoebe snatched the bag of money from Gerald, zipping it open to inspect it, much to his despair.
"No, no, no, no, Pheebs-!" Gerald pleaded.
Gerald's attempts to keep Phoebe's eyes out from the contents of the bag came too late, as she soon held up a stack of hundred-dollar bills.
"Gerald... Where did you get all this money?" Phoebe asked.
"I... I, uh... I found it in a trash can! Would you believe the same crazy thing happened to the same guy twice?" Gerald lied.
"Gerald. I am not in the mood for jokes. I saw on the news about that big bank robbery, where 3 people and a cop got killed. Did you have something to do with that?"
Once again did Gerald try to fester up a lie to protect himself, but, after several struggles to come up with a line, sighed in defeat and confessed.
"Okay. You got me. Yes, I did." Gerald said.
Horrified and devastated by the admission Gerald made, Phoebe, following a period of silence, grabbed a nearby glass of water and tossed it towards Gerald, prompting him to duck under it as it shattered against the wall. Throwing the bag of money to the floor, Phoebe began crying, covering her face with her hands as she turned away.
Attempting to undo the damage he inflicted on her, Gerald ran back up to her to try to apologize.
"Look, Phoebe, I'm sorry, but I didn't have a choice. I mean, I was gonna lose the scholarship, and I didn't want to have to drop out. I wanted to go to college and graduate with you. This guy, he offered me a lot of money fast, and he told me nobody was supposed to get hurt. It was a whole accident, I-" Gerald tried to explain.
Continuing to cry over his wrongdoing, Phoebe pushed him away, not allowing him to touch her.
"Gerald, how could you?! We were both people who fought against those kinds of people for over a year! We were heroes! And now you want to start being what turned Hillwood to ruin?! Did you forget who you are?!" Phoebe shouted.
"Yes, god, yes, I did, I'm so sorry, Phoebe. I know I messed up. It's just not the same as it was, you know? Back when Arnold was here and I could go to him for-" Gerald tried to say.
"You're not passing the buck here, Gerald. You have your own agency, and you know what you did. You should know that robbing a bank is wrong! I mean, god, Gerald! What is wrong with you?!"
"I didn't know what to do, okay?! I messed up because I didn't want to take anybody's help!"
Phoebe responded with no more words, but instead a loud, full scream, showcasing her anger without the need for dialogue.
The scream not only put Gerald to silence, but it also prompted the rest of the family to rush for their room, coming to knock on the door. Pushing herself through her angered, unfocused state, Phoebe rolled up to the door, opening it to see the rest of the Johannsens peering in.
"Phoebe, is something wrong, dear?" Gerald's mother asked.
"You screamed pretty loud. Are you hurt?" Martin asked.
Phoebe looked to Gerald before answering, then faced them once again to respond.
"I'm fine. I, uh... I was sleeping, and had a bad nightmare. I'm just sitting up for a bit now." Phoebe lied.
"Okay. If there's anything you need, you just let us know." Martin said.
"Is Gerald in here with you?" Gerald's mother asked.
"Yes, here's here with me. We're talking." Phoebe said.
"Alright. We'll let you go back to bed, then. Goodnight, Phoebe. Goodnight, Gerald."
Phoebe closed the door, hiding the affair from the rest of the family, then rolled to the side of the room, ignoring Gerald as she rolled past him.
"Phoebe-" Gerald tried to say.
Going unheard by his fiancee, Gerald sat in shame and silence before running to the bag of money, furiously kicking it and grunting in anger, venting his own frustrations with himself onto the inaninmate object. Phoebe turned her head to watch him kick the bag, hiding her concern for him wtih an angry face.
Expressing his regret and anger over the object that caused his current situation, Gerald tumbled back to the floor, leaning back against the bed as he started to cry.
"I had to see someone die today." Gerald cried.
Phoebe then turned herself further around, paying closer attention to Gerald as he spoke.
"There- There was this guy sitting next to me in the van, he said his name was Ralph. Had this cute little daughter named Ruby Jr., did this thing because he couldn't make enough money to raise her. We weren't supposed to talk about each other, but he did it anyway. He seemed like a nice guy, real genuine. Just doing what he needed to do to feed his kid. The cop, when he started shooting, Ralph ran behind me and got me to safety, and- and the cop shot his brains out! They- They splattered all over the wall, and then I saw- I saw his eyes and his blood dripping out from the bullet hole, it was... Jesus, I haven't seen a dead body since Hillwood, it was awful... I can't get it out of my head... I thought I was behind all of it... The- The guy, his name was King David, he gave us guns, but they weren't loaded. He just wanted us to stand around and look tough, we weren't supposed to get hurt. But he did. What about the other two guys? What families did they have? What if I didn't make it? I could've died, too. It could've been me." Gerald cried.
Festering in a pool of self-hatred and regret, coming to full realization of what could have very well happened to himself after hours of suppression, Gerald's moment of rage and frustration at last warranted the arrival of Phoebe, who rolled her wheelchair over to him, sitting over him in silence.
Getting back up from the floor, Gerald took to the nearby desk, grabbing a piece of paper and beginning to write.
"What are you doing?" Phoebe asked.
"Writing a letter of confession. I'm taking this money back to the police station, and incriminating this asshole before he can do it again." Gerald said.
Phoebe immediately stopped him by taking away his paper, then grabbing his hands.
"No, no, Gerald. Don't do that. You'll go to jail." Phoebe pleaded.
"So what? It's what I deserve, don't I? You're the one who said I'm a criminal now, and I'm no good." Gerald said.
"No. I did not say that. I'm very disappointed in you for what you've done, but I do not want you to go to jail."
"I don't want this money sitting around here anymore."
"Neither do I. But no police."
"Fine. I'll just find Ralph's daughter and give it to her. She needs the money, and her dad was trying to get her some."
"What if the cops have their eye on her? They'll just take the money away, then still come for you."
"King David made that point, too, but she needs help."
"The state can take care of her. It's not worth the risk."
"Alright, then, I'll... give the money to charity. They'll do something good with it."
"Give them stolen money? Is that supposed to make what you did okay?"
"Well, what the hell else am I supposed to do with this garbage?! I don't want it anymore, I can't give it back, I can't give it to somebody who needs it, and I can't just give it to the cops. There's nothing I can do to-"
Having a thought cross his mind, Gerald stopped mid-sentence, allowing himself the mental concentration to fully flesh out the idea.
"Gerald?" Phoebe asked.
"Maybe I just give it back to King David... and then turn him in to the cops." Gerald thought aloud.
"He's a supervillain, Gerald. How are you going to handle him?"
Walking back to the closet, he reached up into a hidden corner, pulling out a large bag from it. Placing the back on the floor, he zipped it open and retrieved its contents, laying them out on the bed to view them in full. Setting out a costume and parts to a weapon known as a Sonic Fork, he gazed upon the attire of his guise during his days in the Hillwood Heroes:
G-Funk.
"Easy. Because I'm a superhero." Gerald said.
"That was a long time ago, Gerald. It's been half a year since you put that on and fought anyone." Phoebe said.
"You're the one who said I used to be one. Least I can do is put it back on, if just this once, and fix what I messed up."
"You already put yourself in danger once."
"For the wrong reasons. This time, I'm doing it for the right reasons."
Pulling Gerald down to her, Phoebe gave him a kiss, allowing him her blessing to continue.
"Be careful." Phoebe said.
-
It is long past closing time for Allen and Albert's, with the bartender closing up for the night and locking the doors, flipping the sign at the front door to read 'SORRY, WE'RE CLOSED' to ward away any more wary travelers from seeking out a drink this late at night.
Heading to the back room, he found King David completing the last of his packing, ensuring no trace of him would be left behind.
"You just about done, kid?" The bartender asked.
"Yes, sir. I'll be out of your way, and out of your life without a trace. You'll never know I was ever here. Thank you kindly for being a generous host." King David said.
King David tossed him a bag of money, paying him for the services rendered for using his bar as a front.
"There you go. Half when I got here, and half on my way out the door, just like we agreed." King David said.
"Sure. Just come on in and force me out of my life's work, make me ship off to 'Nowheresville', U.S.A., huh?" The bartender joked.
"What, you can't get another bar? They'll always be more drunks to water, you sure as hell ain't losing your customer base."
Throwing the duffel bag over his shoulder, the bartender followed King David out to the back, allowing him an exit to the bar.
"Can't help but feel a little sorry for that college boy. He really seemed shaken up over his friend." The bartender said.
"Mr. Pink? He'll get over it. A young man his age, he'll just spend a chunk of that cash in booze and beat it down over the rest of his life, he'll be fine." King David said.
"Unless he decides to rat."
"No chance. Cops and negros go together like oil and water."
"But what if he does?"
"He won't. He'll have to admit that he messed up and went out and robbed a bank, just like me. I know how to pick people."
Then, as soon as the back door to the bar had opened, with King David stepping out with his property, a black duffel bag was thrown by his feet, landing with a loud thud. The sound of the impact and presence of the bag made both parties stop in their tracks, and, recognizing the particular shape of the bag, began to suspect betrayal.
And the voice of one of his former henchmen confirmed it.
"King David." G-Funk called.
Stepping forward without fear, King David looked about for a sign of his former henchman, carrying a look in his eyes only seen in those with a killer instinct.
"You shouldn't have come back, Mr. Pink. You think you're the only one to turn on me like this?" King David asked.
"Nope. Just the first that's gonna stop you." G-Funk called.
"I must've heard plenty of college kids like you make the same damn claim. They sure didn't lack confidence, but they sure as hell didn't stop me. What makes you think you'll be any different?"
"Because you didn't just hire any college boy."
Stepping out from the shadows of the night and into the view of the light above the bar's back door, G-Funk revealed himself in full costume, marking his first official appearance as the former Hillwood Hero since his exodus from the aforementioned city, holding his Sonic Fork high.
Witnessing the revelation of the superhero before him, King David's eyes turned to panicked ones, fearing his first confrontation with a superhero.
"I told you I was a veteran of Hillwood." G-Funk said.
Reaching into his belongings, King David quickly pulled out a Mini-Uzi, opening fire on G-Funk. Dodging out of the path of gunfire as soon as the gun was seen, G-Funk disappeared into the shadows again, where he could not be located or shot. Reloading his weapon with another magazine, King David caught a flashlight that the bartender tossed him, taking the means to locate and strike his enemy.
"Get outta here. I got the cape." King David said.
The bartender complied without any verbal confirmation, merely taking the money he was given and running, making the most of his prosthetic leg.
As soon as he began running for his car, however, the sounds of sirens could be heard, and brought him to alert. Seeing the arrival of the police come with several squad cars driving down the street and towards the bar, the bartender immediately concluded that they were coming for him, and rushed himself into the car quicker.
Driving off in the opposite direction of the oncoming police cars, the bartender fled only to run into another squadron of cars coming down the street, barricading themselves in the road to prevent him from escaping. Seeing the police cars slide to barricade themselves just in front of him, unable to avoid the imminent collision, the bartender could do naught but brace himself for the impact.
The crash came with a loud crunching of metal from both vehicles, and put a stop to any feasible attempts to escape. One last vain attempt was made as the bartender stumbled out of his wrecked car, falling to the ground with many light injuries, getting up to keep running...
...only to be surrounded by a blockade of cops, all pointing their firearms at him.
Without any means of escaping, the bartender raised his hands and put them behind his head, receiving a pair of handcuffs on them as he knelt down.
-
Running both from the police pursuing him and towards the man responsible for the arrival of the authorities, King David ran down a series of back alleyways, balancing a fine line between stealth and assault. He knows that any gunfire he makes will attract the police, but he also knows that he has a target to eliminate, and will not let him live under any circumstances.
Making a stop in one alleyway, he pointed his flashlight and Uzi up towards the fire escapes, checking for any possible location to find G-Funk.
"Looking for me?" G-Funk asked.
King David inadvertently did as G-Funk suggested, looking to the sound of his voice to find him standing in the alleyway. Not allowing him to fire his machine gun, G-Funk fired his own Sonic Fork towards King David, sending a non-lethal sound blast straight towards him.
Forced to dodge the shot by hiding behind a wall, King David watched as the soundwave hit a dumpster, sending it sliding back across the ground with the loud sound of metal screeching as it moved. Ducking out from his cover, King David aimed his Uzi once again to find G-Funk now gone.
Keeping his weapon aimed up and ready to fire, he kept to the wall in a play to make himself less of a target. Slowly moving up to the nearest corner, he positioned his gun to be ready to come right around the corner and fire, believing G-Funk to be standing in wait behind it.
"So what was that? 'Looking for me'? You got nothing better than that? Being a geniune superhero for over 2 years, and you don't have any witty catchprhases or comebacks? You aren't like those corporate faces that superheroes are now, you actually went out and fought people like me. You were the real deal. You slipping up from lack of practice, or just a overrated blowhard that was never much in the shadow of the big man?" King David asked.
Closer did King David reach the corner, his trigger finger getting itchier as he waited for the moment to open fire.
"And I'm guessing it was you who called the cops. You wanna turn me in? I know your face, asshole. Maybe I don't know your name, but the cops sure as hell can find it. And here's something else: You're not in Hillwood anymore. Seattle doesn't look too kindly on vigilantes. They're gonna lock your ass in the same cell as me." King David taunted.
Reaching the corner at last, King David positioned himself to pop out and fire.
"That's when I'm gonna kill you." King David threatened.
Running out from the corner, King David opened fire, expecting to hit G-Funk, but managed only to hit thin air. G-Funk was nowhere to be found.
Stepping behind King David, G-Funk placed his Sonic Fork against his back, prompting him to stay still.
"Guess again. I didn't spend 2 years with the Green Eye without learning a few things. That includes theatricality and deception. Now I got you right where I want you." G-Funk said.
"You're not gonna kill me." King David said.
"Oh, yeah? How do you know that?"
"Because not only are you a superhero, but you were a superhero with the Green Eye. The Green Eye would never let anyone die."
"Yeah. That's what the man used to believe."
Sensing himself in a danger he did not predict, King David turned around and swung his hand towards G-Funk's Sonic Fork, pushing it away from him and sending its next soundwave shot anywhere but near him. In trying to aim his Uzi at G-Funk, his firearm was blocked by G-Funk's Sonic Fork, making him fire his own shots at no particular target and waste ammunition.
Resorting to physical combat, King David kicked G-Funk in the knee, forcing him down, and then bashing him in the face with his Uzi, sending him falling to the ground with a nosebleed. Having his enemy at his mercy, King David aimed his Mini-Uzi at G-Funk's face, preparing to pull the trigger.
Then, he glanced at G-Funk's Sonic Fork, changing his mind on how to execute his enemy.
"No. That's too quick. In case I don't make it out of here, I wanna enjoy one real good kill before I go." King David said.
Holstering the Mini-Uzi in his pants, King David picked up the Sonic Fork, carefully inspecting it. Utilizing his powers of mechanical communication, he put his ear to the weapon, listening to it with the same interest of a lover receiving dirty talk over the phone with another lover, licking his lips in arousal.
"Ooh... Now, this is a dirty, dirty girl you got here. The way she talks, the way she sounds, I've never heard a girl like her. Bank vaults, cell phones, computers, they're all the same, but this is truly someone special. I think I'll like using this to kill more people. Maybe I'll even become the next G-Funk; I'll take that stupid costume of yours, make a few adjustments, and come back as a supervillain. Wouldn't that be a nice end to one of the Hillwood Heroes?" King David asked.
King David aimed the Sonic Fork at its owner, but G-Funk leaned up, raising a hand in request for mercy.
"Wait..." G-Funk moaned.
"Oh, what's this? Got some last words? Make it quick, I got cops to run from." King David said.
"You might be able to talk to machines... but you don't know my Sonic Fork."
Grabbing the end of his Sonic Fork, G-Funk pointed it to have its handle pointing at King David's torso, pressing the trigger to fire a soundwave blast.
The blast hit nothing but air, but this was not the important part of G-Funk's tactic. Having positioned his weapon to recoil against its owner, G-Funk sent the weapon blowing back into its current user, resulting in King David being forced back with a breathtaking blow to the gut.
Colliding with an adjacent wall, King David fell down in defeat. Picking himself up off the ground, G-Funk walked up to the downed King David, grabbing his weapon off the ground and retreiving it. Feeling it in his hands once again, he pointed the weapon at King David, who looked back at it with a bloodied smile.
"Go ahead, hero... You'll have to do it... Or else, I'm gonna tell everyone who you are." King David coughed.
"I'm not gonna kill you... but I don't have to save you." G-Funk said.
Without elaborating what his words meant, G-Funk moved out of the light of the alleyway's illumination to disappear into the shadows, out of King David's sight.
Tempted to call after G-Funk, a greater priority took place as a police car came into sight down the alleyway, with its headlights pointed directly towards King David and growing larger, telling him that the car was approaching. Picking himself off the ground, he slowly came to his feet again, standing tall before the police car.
"Freeze! Get down on the ground and put your hands behind your head!" The police called.
Ignoring the calls of the police, King David reached for the Mini-Uzi still tucked in his pants, aiming it straight towards the cop car and opening fire.
Once moving slowly down the alleyway, the car began driving at full speed; ducking out of the way of the Uzi fire, the officer driving the vehicle pressed hit foot down on the gas, flooring the pedal while unable to look up and see what direction the car was driving in.
The car had mostly gone straight, swerving only just slightly, but, to the cornered King David, the car might as well have been a guided smart missile. Making a last stand with a machine gun in hand, King David no longer cared for escape or the world around him, only in going out with a blaze of glory.
And as the metal of the car collided with the concrete wall behind him, with his vital organs caught in the middle, he did.
Feeling the vast majority of his organs squashed and destroyed beyond repair, King David spat a large amount of blood on the police car, letting out the last breaths of life that still existed in him. The duffel bag full of money he had with him was also impacted as well, sending many bloody dollars to fall from the air.
It was only after a few seconds after the impact did the officer come out of the car, seeing the handiwork he unintentionally laid on the criminal.
King David is dead.
Watching the crash from a nearby rooftop, having climbed up to the top via its fire escape, G-Funk looked on with a mixture of emotions. He knows that his own secret identity is safe and the stolen money has been returned, but he also knows that some innocent lives have been lost, so can what he has done really be considered justice?
His hands are not free of the sin he has committed, and he has not forgiven himself for the wrong he has done. What he has done is but a small reparation for the mistake he has made, and it has been accomplished by means that the man who brought him into superherodom would not approve of.
At least, not the man he knew before. Does he still do the right thing? Does he know what the right thing even is anymore?
Gerald Johannsen is unsure of the answer to this question, and he has some assurance that things will get better with a mantra of positivity. He knows that he has a loving and supporting family, and a fiancee that he loves dearly who is willing to help him through anything, and has pushed him to do better, so perhaps things will get better.
But he is sure of one thing:
Life is not the same without the Green Eye.
Chapter 8: Chapter 6: The Magnificent Seven, Part 6
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 6: THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN, PART 6
'Love is a drug'.
This saying has been repeated time and time again to describe this seemingly indescribable emotion, to very little help. The concept of love has been explained through only the most vaguest terms, usually coming back to the explanation of 'you'll know what love is when you feel it'.
However, the comparison to it being a drug is perhaps the most apt, and not in a favorable way.
What can be qualified as a drug? One might automatically picture a substance that temporarily produces pleasurable feelings, and requires frequent use to regain that joy, but that definition can be extended to anything that causes pleasurable feelings beyond just artificial or even natural substances.
If you get a high out of any act in life, is that not comprable to a drug? Why, then, would you not extrapolate this logic to the concept of love itself? The genesis of the idea of love itself comes from reproduction, from sex, where the act itself releases the same exact chemicals in the brain that artificial substances can, and produce the same exact effect.
And if you recognize using an artificial substance to produce this high as wrong, then why would you not see the highs of love as wrong?
These are just some of the few thoughts that now circle the muddled mind of Helga Pataki.
[Soundtrack Cue: A Perfect Circle - The Package]
She wakes up from her bed on a late morning, carelessly opening her empty eyes to no interest throughout the day. A deep and crippling depression makes the urge to go back to sleep and waste away the very first thought in her mind, and there is such a hollowness in her that she no longer has any tears to cry or screams to yell.
For the past few months, she has been living with her elder sister, Olga, the firstborn of the Pataki children and the favored child. She has grown hostile and jealous towards Olga for her parents giving her all the attention while she herself received none, but this cruel nature did not translate to Olga.
Instead, she has been taken in by her eldest sister following the destruction of Hillwood, supplied with a home and the care she was neglected.
However, that care has come too late.
Only does she stare at the ceiling and breathe out her mouth, attempting to cry, but her efforts had resulted in only dry eyes. The emptiness is a hurt that defys expression; she can feel it eat her and make her churn in pain, but it simultaneously makes her unable to express this agony at all.
This is what heartbreak has done to her.
Heartbreak that has come with the end of her relationship with Arnold Shortman.
Eventually, thirst brings her up to rise out of bed to ease her parched throat. Climbing out of bed, she makes her zombie-like walk to the cabinet, her eyes half-open and her feet shuffling forward, taking out a glass and putting it to the refrigerator, allowing it to pour filtered water in for her to drink.
Sitting at the table, Helga half-heartedly scanned the contents, seeing a pile of papers with a written note atop the pile.
Taking the note and reading it, she found that it was left by her elder sister Olga, reading: 'HEY HELGA! I'LL BE BACK IN A FEW DAYS, WORKING IN D.C. ON A BIG VOTE. LEFT SOME MONEY ON THE DRESSER FOR YOU TO GET DINNER. GOT YOU SOME JOB AND COLLEGE APPLICATIONS. PLEASE TRY TO DO AT LEAST ONE OF THEM. LOVE YOU, BABY SISTER!'
Tossing the note aside without a care, Helga continued to sip at her water, sulking at the table, and not doing any of the applicaions laid out for her. Instead, she sat and breathed, burying her head between her folded arms, and closing her eyes, attempting to catch a nap to steal a few more minutes of peaceful sleep at the start of the day.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a cigarette lighter, putting one cigarette in her mouth and lighting it. Sucking in the smoke, she allowed it to cool down in her mouth before inhaling it in, breathing it back out and allowing her lungs to asborb the nicotine in the smoke.
Continuing to puff on the self-imposed coffin nail, she picked up one of the college applications, glancing at it with scorn. The one she arbitrarily selected was one for Harvard University, arguably one of the best and most prestigious colleges in the country, and undoubtedly one of the hardest to get into.
Highlighted in the application was its arts department, singled out by Olga as something for Helga to take interest in. She knows that her elder sister, the sole representative of Vermont, could easily get her into this college, an advantage that very select few in this country can get...
...but it holds no interest to her.
Education is one of many ways that humans expand and grow as they age, but Helga has lost all urge to better herself and stopped caring about anything.
The love she has felt has been nothing short of presence in the divine itself, and had meaning and purpose endowed upon her. When the presence of the divine is gone, and all the gravity he had given her world then, there is nothing to guide her, nothing to pull her down and give her a direction.
Without him, she cannot feel any self-worth, and has no reason to continue her life.
Without him, she is nothing.
Igniting the cigarette lighter one more time, running her thumb over the flame in an attempt to feel the burn, she set it underneath the application, burning it.
Rising from the table, taking the rest of the rest of the applications with her, she carried them to the bathroom and put the still-burning paper in the sink, laying the rest on top of it. The result was the entirety of the applications setting on fire, wilting away into embers without a care of concern from the person they were meant to open doors for.
Walking to the dresser to take the money left for her to buy food, she took it and left to use it to purchase something else.
Her walk down the streets of the city of Bennington, the city where Olga Pataki lived outside of her work in the District of Columbia, takes her past many downtown stores, shops, cafes, and restaraunts, but none of them are of any interest to her, and she pays them all no mind.
The gray sky above her also caught none of her interest; her own mind, cloudy as the day itself, seemed not to even notice the state of the sky, as if her very ability to sense colors had left her in her miserable state. Yet still, she walks down the streets, uncaring and uninterested in the world.
Her walk eventually takes her to a discreet alley, where a man, inconspiciously wearing a hoodie over his head, watched her approach expectingly. Approaching the hooded man, Helga handed him the entirety of the cash left to her, using it not to purchase any food...
...but, instead, heroin, which the hooded man handed back to her.
Upon obtaining what she required, Helga hastily made her way back to the house, stopping in her tracks to urinate. While sitting on the toilet, she readied a sampling of heroin in a kitchen spoon, melting the mixture into a liquid by holding her cigarette lighter underneath the spoon.
Once the mixture was liquefied, she extracted the drug into a syringe, readying it for use on herself.
After cleansing herself from her using the toilet and flushing it, she stood in front of the mirror, standing bottomless without any care for fully dressing herself, nor the unmaintained large patch of pubic hair that had grown between her legs, or even the hair in her armpits that rubbed inside her shirt.
All she cares for is to touch the divinity once again, and the heroin is the way to get it again.
Pulling her belt from her discarded pants, she tied it around her arm, cutting off circulation to it and causing her veins to bulge. Taking a cotton swab and putting rubbing alcohol on it, she wiped her selected vein for injection, placing the medical equipment away and retrieving her syringe.
Then, she experiences penetration.
The unnatural breaching of her skin is only the beginning, making her gasp at the entry of a foreign entity in her body. The phallic implications of the needle entering her internal anatomy is but one subtle reminder of the absence of him from her life, and a perverse imitation to try to recapture it.
Then, she experiences injection.
Many times before had she allowed another fluid to her body, in the hopes that it would leave a child inside her. The many efforts were for naught, and her womb was unfortunately infertle, unable to carry any life within it and pass on her genes and his. She had lied about it before, attempting to give him false hope, but it had backfired on her terribly.
Then, the needle is out of her, and she released the belt.
With a hole left in her arm, beginning to bleed from lack of proper medical care, Helga stumbled to her room once again, feeling the effects of the heroin start to take hold.
Reaching the bed, she fell back in a state of near-complete peace, synthetically brought about by the opioid in her veins. Her breathing and heartbeat seemed to slow to a grinding halt, almost in a hibernation-like state, making her lose all ability to stand up and perform basic functions.
But more importantly, all her pain was gone, and she began to smile and laugh.
This feeling of joy was felt before in her life when he was still present, and their many acts of making love and intimacy had given her this break and forgiveness from her tormentous past. Without sex or even masturbation, she can acquire the relief that she needs, and enjoy it.
And, for just a moment in time, she can feel him again.
Looking up once again, she can see her beloved standing over her, lovingly looking in her eyes and touching her face. Her skin, numbed by the heroin, cannot feel even etherial touches, but Helga pretends to nonetheless, thinking that her body is in so much escstacy that she can feel him touch her all over.
Her imagination seems to take over her sense of reality; she can see several hands all run across her body, all belonging to him. Despite standing right over her, he has his hands on every square inch of her body, worshipping her as a temple and giving tribute to his goddess.
He also kissed his goddess, stealing a taste of her nectar, or so Helga imagined, believing their lips coming into contact with one another.
But the illusion eventually comes to an end, as does the feeling of pleasure that she had. The effects of the drug had worn off, leaving her without her euphoria, and taken out of the presence of the divine once again. She is left alone, and without anyone to help her through her pain.
And the pain comes back in droves, leaving her without the relief away from it that the heroin provided. Once again do her eyes glaze over in apathy, and the hollowness and shattered heart that rest in her soul are all she can feel, paralyzing all else in her mind and making her unable to focus on anything else.
Grabbing a pillow on her bed, she wrapped around it in a fetal position, slowly slipping back to sleep to repeat this vicious cycle another day.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
-
Atheism is often (no pun intended) demonized in the United States.
When a species has long since built a dependency on myths and stories in order to build its societies around, cemented as a norm so thoroughly embedded in its concept of community, any deviation away from this standard is registered as unnatural and different, breeding hate and dissent.
Those who dare to step outside this comfort blanket without a need for it, embracing rationality and reason instead of lies, are villified and seen as an enemy. Even those who worship another god become preferable to those who worship no gods at all, forming an unholy alliance between those who claim to be holy against this perceived enemy from within.
The ones who have freed themselves from this cycle of irrationality try their best to help others find their way to reason and logic once again, prompting them to shed that which they no longer need. Courting the very people who would see them dead, seeing them as some sort of ultimate evil, they make their cases selflessly and passionately, with no other reason to do so but altruism.
Of course, when this universe had emerged from the Big Bang billions of years ago, all of the energy putting matter in motion to its predestinationed path, it has already been determined who is a believer and who is a rationalist, making their battle of ideas no more than a kangaroo court, with no parties vindicated.
Even I am no god by their definitions; I am merely the Clockwork of the universe.
But were there something above me, I imagine they would laugh on this fruitless exercise.
Nonetheless, you, the Observant, may find something to be learned. Such as you observe now with the recording of Jasmine Fenton, known to her peers as 'Jazz', entering a debate at a prestigeous college against an opponent by the name of Theodore Wyatt, a pastor who has spread his Christian beliefs across many mediums, coming at odds with Jazz's atheism.
Their debate has come a long ways through various topics, but it is here when it comes to Jazz's favor, making her the people's winner.
"The bible is the holy and perfect word of god. It has been passed down from generation to generation for thousands of years. They were there when it was first written, and they saw god do his work firsthand, and made sure that future generations would know about it. Now, you, ma'am, may have your fancy degrees and your female empowerment and whatnot, but you don't have god on your side." Wyatt said.
The sexist remarks from the pastor gained groans and jeers from the audience, prompting the moderator to quell both sides.
"Alright, alright, calm down. This is a debate on the bible and the Christian faith, there's no room for personal attacks and unprofessionalism." The moderator said.
"No, no, that's alright. I want to respond to the claim he made there. So, Pastor Wyatt, your claim is that the bible was written by people who were actually there to witness it, correct?" Jazz asked.
"Yes, that's correct." Wyatt replied.
"And that includes the entire book of Genesis? Specifically, the creation of the world in 7 days?"
"Of course."
"Alright. On what day was man created?"
"The sixth day."
"So mankind did not exist prior to that point yet?"
"Nope."
"And the bible claims that everything else was created in the 5 days before then?"
"Yes."
"So, how could any records of those events have been recorded by humans if they didn't exist yet?"
Having been approached with an argument made under his own premises and logic, the pastor stood in stunned silence, contemplating how to provide a plausible answer to the question posed before him. His trouble with the question made him start to show a discontent face, as if he never expected to be put in this logical trap before.
All that came out from his mouth were mere stammers and 'um's, which gained light chuckles from the audience as he sat becoming embarassed.
"And that's how it's done, ladies and gentlemen. That's already gotten viral on NewTube, and I've got plenty of comments telling me that this was what shook them out of their faith. Nothing like doing the good work of educating the world." Jazz bragged.
The playback of the event came to a stop as Jazz paused the video, having played it back on her smartphone to show her parents at the dining table, sharing her accomplishment over dinner about her last debate. Her parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, watch with a torn mixture of emotions that conflict pride in their daughter's accomplishments with disappointment in her attitude towards others.
"Well, Jazz, you did quite a good job, dear, but... Don't you think you would be much happier if you pursued a career in something that doesn't punch down on people? Other people do have their beliefs in the supernatural, you know, and that's no reason to embarass and berate them." Maddie said.
Jazz let out an angered grunt, feeling annoyed with a repeat of a conversation that has happened between her and her parents too many times to count.
"Oh, god, mom, this conversation again? I'm just finished up my bachelor's degree in philosophy, and I'm working up to my PHD in neuroscience. That kind of hard work isn't just something you just change like a hobby, you know. It's a lot of studying and seriousness." Jazz protested.
"I'm not talking about that, sweetie. I'm talking about this whole NewTube thing you do. These hour-long podcasts you do with people, talking about things that even your father and I don't understand." Maddie said.
"That's because I practice actual science, unlike the crap you and dad used to do."
"Jazz, honey, I would appreciate it if you didn't talk about our work like that. Jack and I worked very hard in supernatural studies back in college, alongside Vlad, of course, and we were on the very cusp of finally breaching into another dimension."
"That was so stupid! You blasted Vlad in the face with some gunk, and he got acne. You call that a discovery?"
"It was a blast of ectoplasm, Jazz. The fabric of consciousness itself. I'm telling you, it was real, and there's nothing you can say that's going to change my mind about it, or your father's, or Vlad's."
"Really? Because I asked Vlad about it, and he admitted it was just soda that got sprayed in his face that made him break out."
"Well... then maybe Vlad's a little shy about the topic. It did totally cost him his social life, you know."
"Occam's Razor: Considering that dad had a bad habit of shoving cans of soda in your inventions, and Vlad said it was a can of soda that Vlad said made him break out, I'm more inclined to think the obvious answer."
Maddie backed down from the argument, silently retreating into her food, but Jack shot up in speech and came to her rescue.
"Aw, don't worry yourself, sweetheart. You know kids, they always go all rebellious against their parents, try to set up some kind of identity for themselves. It's just what happens with all kids." Jack laughed.
"It's not a phase, dad. It's what I've been studying for years. That's the furthest thing from a phase as you can possibly get." Jazz groaned.
"Oh, I didn't say that, dear. You're probably growing up to be even smarter than the both of us. The stuff you talk about with those other scientist and philosopher types on your blog, I can't even understand half of it, and I studied it in college."
"It's a podcast, dad, not a blog."
"To-may-to-, to-mah-to. You're a genius, nobody's denying that."
Jazz took some pride in her father's compliments, of which Jack's words gained an ashamed glance from Maddie.
"And between you, the science whiz girl, and the comic book extraordinare in Danny, I'd say our kids are growing up just fine. Don't you agree, Danny-boy?" Jack asked.
The last question was addressed to the 19-year old Danny Fenton, who sat next to his father in a quiet, hermit-like manner, keeping quiet and to himself with his face held down. Forced to respond to his father's question, he did so in a meek, disconnected manner, mumbling out his reply in a drug-induced, pacificed haze.
"Uh, yeah, yeah, dad, sure." Danny mumbled.
"Ha! Right you are! I guess you having your near-death experience in our Ghost Portal and going into years of therapy and medication was a blessing for all of us, wasn't it?" Jack cheered.
Making a very crass comment regarding his son's mental state and unaware of it, both Jazz and Maddie raised their voices to show their discontent for his words.
"DAD!" Jazz shouted.
"JACK!" Maddie shouted.
"Ooh, uh, sorry, son. That sounded better in my head. But we still love you, and we're here to help you get all the help you need. We know I can afford it, being CEO of my own food company." Jack scrambled.
The tone of the table turned calm again with Jack's apology, with the family returning to their food in peace.
"That's right, honey. We'll do whatever it takes to get you all better again, see our sweet little boy happy again." Maddie added.
"I don't like the therapy or the doctors." Danny mumbled.
"Danny, this for you to get better again. You've been getting a lot more detached, and we're trying to help you get better. This isn't healthy." Jazz said.
"Of course, if you don't like the doctor you have, we can always get you another. Say, who was that guy who helped the genius guy get the girl in that one movie? The one with the beard? He was really good." Jack thought aloud.
"Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting?" Maddie asked.
"Yeah, that's the fellow! Real relatable chap, I saw a bit of myself in him. Maybe we should give him a call."
"One, that's a movie. Two, he's dead."
"...Oh. Right. I knew that. Still the same, nothing's too good for our Danny-boy."
The family managed to finish their meal in peaceful silence, having no more hostile conversations or arguments that were spat from across the table at one another. When finished with their meal, all parties retreated to their own activities and chores, with the Fenton parents carrying on with work-related tasks.
As far as Jazz was concerned, her only task was to ensure that her younger brother would be well again, acting as his keeper as she escorted him up the stairs to the bathroom before he went back to his room, personally seeing that he opened the medicine cabinet and took his medication.
Watching him take the pharmesutical bottle out of the cabinet, Jazz confirmed that a single pill was in his hand, ready to be consumed.
"I don't like the drugs." Danny moaned.
"They're helping you, Danny. Your hallucinations have only gotten worse, and you need these to get better again." Jazz said.
"You're not my doctor. You're not even a doctor yet, you know."
"Not yet. But I took on my studies because I wanted to see you get better. Mom and dad with their stupid ghost hunting bullshit, it's obviously had an effect on you."
"They help my comics. The plots come to me better."
"I don't care. If making slightly less good comic books is the price to pay for your own health, than that's what we're gonna do. Now, stop stalling and take your pill."
Taking a glass from the counter and putting under the sink, filling it with water, Danny put the pill in his mouth, putting the glass to his mouth after to consume the pill. Confirming that he was properly medicated, Jazz nodded in content, allowing Danny to resume free reign once again.
"I always feel zonked out from those pills. I want new ones." Danny groaned.
"We'll talk to your doctor about that next visit. In the meantime, you need to work with what you have." Jazz said.
Leaving Danny to his own devices, Jazz looked back on him with a look of guilt, unhappily seeing him walk away with his head still hung low. She knows that the treatments he is going through are all harsh on his mind, and makes him appear weak and helpless, as if the treatments do more harm than good.
Having no other understanding to base her understanding of Danny's affliction on, she allows her trust only in modern medicine, and convinces herself all is for the best.
Partially sedated from his medication, Danny walked back to his room, nearly coming into a stumble when he reached the door. Stepping through and entering his own sanctum, he began losing his sense of balance, feeling his eyelids start to grow heavy as his brain no longer felt the strength to carry on its control of the body.
Partially falling on the bed, Danny gripped the blanket, dragging it with him as he slowly tumbled to the floor. Holding the blanket tight against him and hoping to take some solance in its softness and warmth, there is not even a reprieve from the affliction now taking place over him.
The medication he has taken is only the partial source of this problem; it has been designed to make his hallucinations stop, but at the cost of his mental strength and ability to focus. Having gone through several medications already, this is but another in the long line of antipsychotics he has tried...
"It's not working... It's not working..." Danny mumbled.
...but the problem is not the drugs.
The problem is that the drugs do not work, because what is happening to Danny no modern medicine can solve.
-
In another time, in another world, there was another Danny Fenton.
This young Danny Fenton, when he was just 14, his parents built a very strange machine, designed to view a world unseen.
Carrying an interest in ghosts and the afterlife, the strange and the unknown, it was made with the sole purpose of breaching into the realm of the undead, a place known as the Ghost Zone, and venture into this undiscovered country. When it didn't quite work, his folks just quit...
...but then Danny took a look inside of it.
Danny Fenton can remember these events very well; his life has been exactly similar to this alternate Danny Fenton in every exact way, with both of their lives carrying out in perpendicular fashion to one another in the grand scheme of the multiverse and endless 'what ifs' in time.
But, when this Danny Fenton entered the Ghost Portal, there was a great big flash, and everything just changed, his molecules got all rearranged. When he first woke up he realized he had snow white hair and glowing green eyes, he could walk through walls disappear and fly, much more unique than the other guys.
It was then that he knew what he had to do: Stop the other ghosts that were coming through. He was here to fight for me and you...
...but Danny Fenton only looks on this other life on the outside looking in, just as he always has, documenting what he sees in his long-running comic book Danny Phantom. He is but a passenger, not unlike an Observant such as yourself, left to contemplate what this other life means to him.
Fittingly enough, this glimpse into another life gives him introspective on why he sees what he sees, just as it will serve for you, Observant.
The setting is in the mayor's office of Amity Park, where the incumbent Tucker Foley is hardly at work on his duties as mayor of the city. Among him are Danny Fenton and Sam Manson, his best friends and partners in battle against the ever-present ghost threat, who also happen to be engaged to be married.
They are all heroes and adults carrying responsibilities, but they are still young adults, and so their conversations will sometimes lapse into the adolescent navel-gazing of popular culture or fandom, and it is here that mayor Tucker Foley does just that, sharing a topic that relates to the state of both Danny Fentons.
"You know something, guys? I was rewatching the Back to the Future trilogy the other day, and I think I finally realized what was really wrong with those movies." Tucker said.
"Nothing's wrong with the Back to the Future trilogy, Tucker. I will not tolerate blasphemy in the mayor's house." Danny protested.
"It's my house now, I can do whatever I want. At least, until I get to the White House. Election Day's just a few months away."
"At least you'll have the sci-fi geek vote down." Sam joked.
"I'm up in pretty much all the polls, but never mind that right now, just listen. You know how when Marty McFly gets back to 1985, his house is totally different and his family's more happier?"
"And more materialistic." Danny added.
"Hence why they're happier. But what always rubbed me the wrong way with that is that they're all totally different people now that he altered the future."
"No, they're not. They're still his family." Sam protested.
"Yeah, but they're not the same version of his family. Remember? Everyone in the beginning was a total loser, including George McFly, who was a weak pushover and sad, until Marty got him to punch Biff? That George McFly's nothing like the original. He's a totally different person, personality-wise and even apperance-wise, too."
"So?" Danny asked.
"So, Marty had a set of memories of his family in his own timeline, but, when he got back to the future, he's now in a place where his memories no longer happened. Can you imagine all the different things you went out and did with your family are now no longer happened, and the people who are your family now don't act like the people you know, or remember what you did together? Or how about them asking you something about their own past, and you don't remember it, because you weren't there?"
"The whole point of the movies was that human nature doesn't really change. They had the exact same 3 kids with the same names and all, regardless of what Marty did." Sam added.
"But that's just a movie. We're talking real time travel here."
"Pfft. 'Real' time travel, Tuck?" Danny scoffed.
"Oh, you don't remember the time when we accidentially went back in time and almost got burned at the stake by your great-great-something-grandfather in the Salem Witch Trials?"
"...Oh, right, I forgot."
"How could you forget something like that, man?"
"All the ghost stuff starts to blur together after awhile, Tuck. You know, now that you mention it, that was kind of weird that he looked just like my dad. I guess the Back to the Future movies casting Michael J. Fox as Marty's ancestors and descendants was more on the money than they thought."
"But my point is that I figured out how all works out in the end, how he adjusts into the new timeline."
"Oh, yeah? How?" Sam asked.
"Dual memories."
"Dual memories?" Danny asked.
"Think about it this way: In Back to the Future II, Doc Brown acknowledges that the reality of 1985 exists while they got stuck in 1985A, which was caused when Biff went back and gave himself the sports almanac. So, if a large enough change caused by Biff can create an alternate timeline, why can't Marty going back and keeping his parents from first meeting also cause its own separate reality? At the end of the first movie, we see Marty go back to the mall to see himself go back in time, but the events that led to that Marty's creation are the alternate timeline's, where his family's different. The first time Marty went back in time, he pushed his father out of the way of the car, and he knew that he was going to be hit by the car because his parents talked endlessly about how they met that way. So, how could that second Marty know to go to see his father and that car being the catalyst that made his parents meet, when they no longer met that way?"
Coming to understand Tucker's point, Danny and Sam sat silently in contemplation, attempting to articulate an answer before Tucker could.
"The only way that Marty could've had any knowledge of the first Marty's parents meeting there is if he had the same set of memories as the other Marty. So, with two different Martys existing at the same time, they share the same memories as each other, and both instinctively know how to close the time loop." Tucker explained.
"Then how come Marty didn't have these dual memories in any of the movies?" Danny asked.
"He didn't say if he didn't or not in the third movie, only the first. That means it could've easily kicked in then. And considering that it also showed how slowly his siblings phased out of existence, the effects of changing time just work slow in general, so it might've just taken awhile to kick in. It might've done the same with 1985A in Biff's dystopian future. If he carried the knowledge of his own timeline up to the point where he first went back, then the timeline changed around him, the only way that could be justified is that he carried memories of both events simultaneously, like keeping all of your items during a second playthrough of the same game."
"That slow change always seemed like bullshit to me. If you go back and change something, the change oughtta be instantaneous. I mean, there has to be some law of time or something about that, changing slowly makes no sense. What do you think, Danny?"
"I don't know, all this stuff trying to explain time travel, it all never made much sense to me. If I were some kind of time controlling ghost, and I'm not, I'd make sure that this time travel stuff was more under control. Besides, if there was another me out there, having all the same memories as I have now, don't you think I'd have his memories, too?" Danny asked.
"Maybe you don't have any yet because nobody's tried to go back in time and change stuff. Or maybe in the real world, it only works if you're the second one of yourself that you created by altering time. Of course, there's always the second explanation: You go back in time, you create an entirely new timeline, and that's it." Tucker added.
"I hope not, or else some poor sop is gonna spend too much time trying to make that fit into the trilogy." Sam joked.
Interrupting the cordial discussion held between friends, Tucker received a phone call from a red telephone on his desk, reserved strictly for emergencies. Taken out of his friendly and leisurely mood upon seeing it was ringing, Tucker picked up the phone, putting the set to his ear.
"Hello?" Tucker asked.
Only a mumbled voice could be heard on the other end from the perspective of Danny and Sam, who listened in with alertness.
"Thank you. I'll get right on it. Thank you." Tucker said.
Hanging up the phone, Tucker turned to his two friends, speaking no longer as a friend, but as a city official.
"We got a problem." Tucker said.
Standing up from his seat, Danny summoned a pair of rings out from his midriff, oppositionally moving up and down his body each, transforming his regular human appearance of Danny Fenton, a 19-year old young man, into the black-suited, white-haired, green-eyed, ghost-battling superhero known as...
...Danny Phantom.
"I'm on it... Mr. Mayor." Danny said.
The memory then progressed to Danny Phantom flying to downtown Amity Park, carrying Sam in his arms during their departure.
"You know, babe, speaking of past events, don't you think it's kind of harsh that the ghosts who helped us save the Earth all still want to fight us? I mean, after 5 years, they don't cut us any slack?" Sam asked.
"What can you say? They're ghosts. They don't know how to do anything but follow their basic modus operandi. So, without the threat of the Earth being gone and harming them as well, it's back to the status quo. It's a whole 'unch-bay' of 'ullshit-bay', isn't it?" Danny joked.
"I don't think that last one was Latin."
"Probably not. I took French back at Casper High."
"Your parents or sister aren't gonna help out?"
"They're off on some excursion in South America fighting the ghost of an Amazonian tribal god, plus research. That leaves me to hold down the fort. Or haven't you forgotten already, since we had the whole house to ourselves?"
"Mmm, that's right. But, still, it's one of your old baddies. You could always use some help."
"What's the big deal? We're only dealing with-"
"...YOUNGBLOOD!" A voice shouted.
Stopping in his flight to observe the loud voice, Danny stopped at the rooftop of a building, setting Sam down so they both could peer off the edge and observe the ground.
The ground level of Amity Park showed a massive congregation of children and teenagers gathered before a stage, all holding up signs and wearing T-shirts that sprouted political slogans, such as 'MAKE AMERICA YOUNG AGAIN', 'NO WE WON'T', 'THE DJINN WILL WIN', 'I LIKE THE TYKE', and 'READ MY LIPS: NO MORE HOMEWORK', to name a few.
Enthusiasm was high with the crowd, but never was it so high until Youngblood himself took to the stage, gaining thunderous applause as he waved back. Staying to his nature as a child indulging in imagination, his attire was based on that of John F. Kennedy's, smiling to the crowd as he approached the podium.
"My fellow Americans, this is one of the most important elections of all time that we now face. Together, we have a choice. Do we want to stay with the old, tired ways of the past, or usher in the new and young?" Youngblood asked.
The audience, upon closer inspection, appeared to be under a trance set by Youngblood, who all responded to their hypnotizer's question by shouting...
"YOUNG!" The crowd cheered.
"That's right. Enough of these old, wrinkled, decrepit adults who just want to ruin our fun. I believe in an America by the children, for the children. That means an America with no school, no grown-ups, and most certainly no chores. That's why I plan to abolish the Department of Education, the Department of Labor, and replace Congress with a gigantic waterslide!" Youngblood shouted.
The audience cheered in response to Youngblood's political promises, beginning to chant the name of the ghost who planned to be president.
"That's right, kids. So be sure to vote for me this next election season, and be sure to supress any votes that might come against me, like those pesky parents of yours or any political figures like Mayor Foley. Go to their houses, burn them down, and make sure they never escape! This is the start of the second American revolution!" Youngblood shouted.
The speech and enthusiasm of the crowd was broken up by a single shot of ectoplasm made to Youngblood's head, sending it back and to the left. With a blast hole in his head, Youngblood looked back and up to see the origin of the shot, finding Danny Phantom floating over him with a smoking finger.
"Sorry, Youngblood, but if you're not old enough to vote, you're not old enough to run." Danny joked.
"Danny Phantom! Well, sir, I'll have you know that this is a direct action of election interference, and I'll most certainly be having your government grants from Fenton Works taken away for this!" Youngblood complained.
"I liked you better when you were a pirate. I know every kid wants to be president, but this whole thing isn't for you. So, why don't you just hop inside the Fenton Thermos like a good boy this time? I put some fresh milk and cookies inside this time."
"Ooh, fresh milk and cookies?! Er- I mean, you might think you can overpower me, Danny Phantom, but you haven't accounted for the other dead presidents that are supporting me."
Reaching into the pockets of his suit, Youngblood pulled out several large wads of cash, displaying them in the air.
"Thanks to my political PACs, I've gotten a lot of support from Franklin, Grant, and Jackson. They should be more than enough to deal with you!" Youngblood shouted.
[Soundtrack Cue: Stabbing Westward - Save Yourself]
Bending the wads of cash in his hands, Youngblood sent the dollar bills in the air, where they flew on their own towards Danny Phantom. The images of the presidents and founding fathers printed on them had crawled out of the bills, leaving Danny surrounded by ghost fascimilies of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, Alexander Hamilton, Andrew Jackson, Ulysses S. Grant, and Benjamin Franklin.
"You know, I wish I'd paid more attention in history class. I keep forgetting who half of you guys are. All I can remember is which faces belong on each bill." Danny joked.
One of the Andrew Jacksons flew forward, angrily addressing Danny in an unhinged fashion, and with his many swear words bleeped out by an unseen censor.
"You don't scare me, you [bleep] little boy! I'm gonna [bleep] you the [bleep] up and rip your [bleep]ing heart out of your [bleep] and hang you by your [bleep]ing entrails like the savage little [bleep]ing traitor you are!" The Andrew Jackson shouted.
Danny Phantom responded by blasting the ghost with a shot of hellfire from his hand, disintigrating the former president.
"Whoa, language, please! I don't care if you are a former president, we've got kids present!" Danny joked.
In response to their fallen comrade, the dead presidents all converged on Danny Phantom, directly attacking the one who let out the first strike.
In response, Danny Phantom flew back at the dead presidents and began beating them down, squashing them into pure ectoplasm with but a simple swing of his fists or kick of his foot or blast of ectoplasm, showing that his opponents were easy enough to take down with one hit apiece.
Where they proved a very minor threat in terms of metaphysical ability, the ghosts proved to be more deadly in quantity.
-
As the past memory played out in the head of Danny Fenton, reliving a past life through his pharmesutical-induced stupor, he no longer saw this experience as a hallucination, but instead began to experience the memory as if it were playing out in real time, and he was once again in his past life.
Acting as if he were flying about in the air in his ghost form, his very human body acted out the same attacks on the dead presidents, completely convinced that he was battling them. His swings, delayed and discoordinated by his medication, made the attacks less focused and groggy.
Not only do they attack mostly thin air, but they also strike at objects all about his room, with Danny unknowingly striking his belongings and unaware of the minor pain he inflicted on himself as a result. His mind is in the present world no longer, and whatever events happen in it are completely out of his awareness.
His consciousness is now in a time that now no longer is.
-
Still does Danny Phantom battle against the dead presidents, brawling and blasting away all the American apparations that fight against him.
Like the Andrew Jackson that fell before him, Danny was assaulted by others that shouted several obscenities at him, while also firing flintlock pistols while attempting to beat him with their hickory canes. Known for being the most aggressive and unhinged president in history, the many ghosts of Andrew Jackson attacked first and held nothing back...
...but they all fell before Danny Phantom.
The Abraham Lincoln ghosts, armed with but axes, were among the next to strike, forcing Danny to dodge their swings and strikes of the etherial blades that would have cut through his body. Keeping in tune with the true Abraham Lincoln, their axes were all sharpened well and would have been able to down Danny Phantom with ease...
...but Danny Phantom does not give them the opportunity.
The Benjamin Franklin ghosts, arming themselves with kites, harnessed lightning and redirected it at Danny Phantom, forcing him to dodge the bolts in midair as he struck back. The forces of nature are but putty in the hands of a ghost, putting them in a position of power that provides a literal example of the saying 'mind over matter'...
...but the mind of Danny Phantom has been sharpened to do battle with any opponent he faces.
-
And the mind of Danny Fenton is still stuck in this past memory that no longer is, unawares of the current time he is in.
He believes that he is still battling against the numerous dead presidents, and reliving the memory as though it were the present. The very concept of present seems to have become foreign at this point; how many times has he had these episodes of breaches into alternate realties, unsure of which is the real and which is not?
His family knows most of these episodes, but know not about the cause of the main issue. Believers they are in the supernatural, venturers into the unknown, his parents have not considered the aspect of time travel nor its effects, and his sister, rigid in reason and rationality, could not even conceptualize this possibility at all.
All the help that remains for him is medication that does not help at all, because the science of objective reality cannot assist in matters in perceptive reality.
-
Fighting against the other presidents of Ulysses S. Grant, Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson, and finally George Washington, dispatching all of the replica ghosts, Danny Phantom now stood before Youngblood, undefeated by his underlings, and unamused by his attempts to stop him.
"Nice try, but history's something you're supposed to leave in the past." Danny joked.
"I don't look past, I look forward. And I'm gonna start with a new tax bill to increase the national debt!" Youngblood declared.
Signing an etherial piece of paper he materialized, officially marking a bill into law, the law then turning into a gigantic money printer, which Youngblood then activated. Opening his mouth to catch the expelled federal notes, Youngblood began eating the money, which caused his body to expand to giant proportions, towering over Danny Phantom as a more dangerous threat.
"Government spending leads to plenty of growth, and far more power to crush you, Danny Phantom!" Youngblood shouted.
Flying up to Youngblood's face, Danny Phantom began firing directly at it, causing the ghost to cover his face in pain. Reaching out another hand, Youngblood attempted to swat him away in a wild wave of his hand, trying to shoo off Danny Phantom and prevent him from attacking further.
Dodging away from one pass of the waving hand, its return had successfully landed on Danny Phantom, knocking him back in the air.
-
Experiencing a memory where he was knocked back by a giant ectoplasmic hand, Danny Fenton stumbled back and hit a wall. He could not feel the impact he made with the wall, but instead felt the force of the hand hit him, nearly knocking all the breath from his body and forcing him to hold back and recover.
Once forced to close his eyes in reeling pain, he opened them again on his perceived target, preparing for a full retaliation.
Jumping up in the air, Danny Fenton believed himself to be flying, once again floating above the head of the oversized Youngblood. Extending his hands out in a motion as if pushing something in the air, he felt once again the sense of firing hellfire out from his palms, extending out energy from his body against his foe.
Diving towards the ground, he believed himself to be flying towards his face, preparing a charged blast in his hand.
-
Laying a punch in the face of Youngblood, Danny Phantom also released a blast of ectoplasmic energy in the punch, greatly amplifying the power of his punch and forcing Youngblood back to grasp his nose in pain. Unable to focus due to his pain, Youngblood's attention was off of Danny Phantom, with his eyesight only lingering towards the ground.
It was, however, by looking at the ground in which he noticed the many supporters who had come to support him, looking back up at the monstrosity that they had previously been cheering for. As a result of Youngblood's disorientation, the hypnosis put on the crowd by the child ghost had faded with the appearance of green pops and rings coming from their heads, returning their minds to themselves.
And not only do they respond to Youngblood by screaming, but Youngblood himself conjured a response in turn from his own anger.
"Not gonna support me anymore, huh? Well, you should know what a strong government does to its disobedient citizens: Puts its boot down on their necks!" Youngblood shouted.
Raising his foot, Youngblood prepared to stomp on the crowd, causing them to flee and cower before the incoming foot and imminent deaths.
"Sorry, Youngblood, you still gotta respect people's rights to vote, even when they vote against you!" Danny Phantom shouted.
Flying in to save the day, Danny Phantom blasted ectoplasm bolts into the incoming foot, piercing through the shoe and into Youngblood's metaphysical body, once again bringing him intense burns. Raising his foot further up to grasp it, he began bouncing on his other, hopping up and down in frustrated pain.
"Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh...! Oh, that smarts...!" Youngblood yelped.
The saved crowd no longer screamed in pain, but instead looked up to the humiliated Youngblood in amusement, laughing at his apparent foot pain.
"Danny!" Sam called.
Turning to the call of Sam, Danny saw her throw a Fenton Thermos towards him, giving him the means to capture Youngblood and end the battle.
Catching the Fenton Thermos, Danny immediately turned it towards Youngblood and opened it, activating the tractor beam within to draw the ghost inside. With the beam being so comically small in comparison to the expanded body of Youngblood, the weapon might seem ineffective at capturing such a large target...
...but the beam had seemingly began to suck the extra metaphysical mass out of him, causing his body to rapidly shrink down to regular size. Seeing his own bodily mass start to slip away, and his base body start to follow, Youngblood panicked, vainly attempting to pull back what mass he lost, all to no effect.
Unable to escape, Youngblood once again turned to a vain effort of escape, trying to fly away, only to slowly be sucked further and further towards the Fenton Thermos.
"No! No! NO! I didn't even make it to the ballot!" Youngblood pleaded.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Finally sucked back into the Fenton Thermos, Danny Phantom sealed the device with its lid, officially trapping the apparation in the pocket dimension within.
"Sorry, Youngblood. Maybe you'll have a little better luck next election cycle." Danny Phantom joked.
Applause and cheers came after the silence of victory, coming from the formerly hypnotized young people in the hold of Youngblood. Giving their collective thanks to Danny Phantom, the half-dead hero responded by smiling and waving to the crowd, bowing to them as if he were but a showman.
Another burst of applause and cheers came as Sam Manson ran up to Danny, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him.
"What took you so long with the Fenton Thermos?" Danny Phantom joked.
"You left me on the rooftop. I had to take the stairs all the way down. Not all of us can fly, you know." Sam said.
"Oh. Whoops. Sorry."
"You can make up for it by taking me to Nasty Burger. I just worked up a big appetite."
Scooping up his fiancee in his arms, Danny Phantom took off in the air, carrying Sam with him, and taking along the Fenton Thermos and the love of the crowd.
Flying up in the air, they were away from the crowd and all citizens on the ground to invade them, giving them a moment of privacy in the skies. Nuzzling herself up against Danny Phantom, Sam took full advantage of it, which Danny responded to by holding her tigher against him.
"God, I love you." Sam said.
"I love you, too." Danny Phantom said.
"This wedding sure as hell can't come fast enough. I can't wait for you to walk me down the aisle. Every day, you get to carry me off to whatever ghost you need to fight, I want to see you do it when we get home on our wedding night."
"I'll take you up on it."
"And you and I have the big happy ever after that heroes get?"
-
In the present time, Danny Fenton held his arms out as if holding something, only holding empty air in reality. He perceived himself talking to his own fiancee, making vows of happiness and joy that even very few couples in love can attain, and even less cherish, to the woman he had known as long as he can remember...
...but, in this reality, he has neither this life nor this exact woman; his Sam Manson pales in comparison.
"Yeah... Of course we do... All heroes get the big happy ending..." Danny mumbled.
A knock at the door had caught the attention of Danny Fenton, prompting him to turn to it. Broken out of his trance, the knock had given him the same feeling one has when having the last memories of a dream drift away upon reawakening, losing the ability to conceptualize what was once vivid and clear.
Groggily approaching the door, Danny opened it, finding Jazz standing on the other side.
"Danny?" Jazz asked.
"Hey, Jazz. What's up?" Danny mumbled.
"What's going on in there? I heard a lot of bangs and crashes."
"I'm just... plotting another comic. Everything's fine."
"Oh, alright. I love how creative you are, but I wish you didn't act it all out like that. You're liable to hurt yourself."
"I'm fine. Really."
"If you say so. Listen, that new medication, it's not doing anything much for you, is it?"
"Not really."
"I didn't think so. You hadn't shown a lot of change from the last ones, and you seem a lot more tipsy."
"I don't need you to mother me, Jazz. I'll let you know if the pills don't work."
"I don't try mother you, Danny. Just trying to do what mom and dad should be doing, and not me. I gotta look out for my little brother."
"Heh... If you say so."
"I do say so. Now, try to relax and not break anything, okay? I need to do some more studying, make sure I can finish my degree, learn how to help you and kids like you."
"You always cared too much."
"Because you're my brother, Danny. It's worth it for you."
Jazz playfully pressed against Danny's nose with her finger, prompting a laugh from them both.
"Love you, little bro." Jazz said.
As Jazz stepped away, Danny closed the door, closing himself in his sanctuary once again.
Free from any disturbances, and feeling the past memory begin to die down, Danny walked over to his bed and fell onto it, aimlessly looking at the ceiling. Alone in his thoughts, he contemplates over the images that play over and over in his head, attempting to make sense of what they were and where they came from.
Are they some sort of divine inspiration for his work?
Are they a fantasy that he conjured up out of sheer adolescent boredom?
Are they an amalgamation of all the experiences he has had over his life, from his personal to what media he has consumed?
He does not know the answer, but he knows that these all have a clear cause:
The Ghost Portal he stepped into years ago.
What is it about this piece of nonfunctioning equipment that had caused these thoughts?
-
There have been many legends of knights that protect and watch over their lands, in service of their king and country.
Also have there been tales of monsters that lurk out at night, hunting for prey to steal off in the dark.
Then, there have been men with too much time and money on their hands, along with a few personal desires or grievances, free to act on them without obstruction.
The man named Buckley Lloyd is something of a mix of the three.
A wealthy man in the city Hillwood, its richest resident with a wife and daughter, he seemed to have everything and more in life, living a life of hedonism that only a few privleged few get to experience in this country. Never had he suspected that anything could possibly become of his perfect life, and in blissfull ignorance he lived in this foolhardy conviction.
Then, a man named the Freak shook him out of this conviction.
Coming home after a purchase of a country club, Buckley Lloyd arrived home to find his daughter, Rhonda Lloyd, brutally raped and comatose, a discovery which drove him to sorrow and his wife into madness, left to die of despair in a mental asylum in her overwhelming grief.
And Buckley Lloyd was left alone, stuck in the empty life that he had made for himself.
Turning his need for vengeance to the streets of Hillwood that spawned the tragedy in his home, he became the caped crusader named Valiance, the lethal protector of Hillwood. Taking to the same streets that landed his daughter in the hospital, he gunned down criminals in the streets, leaving bodies in the wake of his rebirth.
During many clashes with the Green Eye, he would soon come to abandon his lethal methods, brought to an official end when Rhonda had returned alive and well again, taking her own name of Elite, and pursuing a similar path of vengance as her father against the Freak and all like him.
When she gave her life to save another, however, he was left alone again with an empty life of regrets...
...but that he vowed to change with the blood of the Green Eye, using it to resurrect his dead daughter. Living once again sans a soul, the reanimated body of Rhonda caused more troubles in Hillwood and its peoples, including the chain of events that led to its isolation from the world and destruction.
During its months of anarchy and chaos, Hillwood also brought forth the struggles that would eventually make Valiance to lose the last of his sanity, vowing that no human being was worthy of life and declaring to kill everyone on the island city, save for children, the only group he considered still innocent.
Once again, he clashed with the Green Eye, who subdued him and made him realize the error of his ways, but at the price of his will to go on.
Urged out of his self-imposed exile from consciousness by Helga Pataki to help once again, Buckley Lloyd rose up as Valiance once more to aid in the final battle to save Hillwood from itself, fighting alongside the many heroes that still struggled to hold the city together in a last hurrah.
It had failed in a nuclear fire, but not before Vlad Plasmius had saved both him and Gerald from perishing in the blast.
Now, he is once again without a family, or even the place he has known as home for much of his life...
...but he still has his money, and the will to continue.
Somewhere in a hidden cave just outside Detroit, Michigan, the violent crime capital city of the United States, Buckley Lloyd, dressed in his full costume save for his helmet, carefully watched a series of television screens playing all local news channels for the city, keeping up to date on all affairs happening in the town.
"...another murder in the downtown area..." One news station said.
"...reports of a 17-year old girl being gangraped..." Another news station said.
"...hostage situation currently going on at the city courthouse, where Judge Ansolabehere and several court clerks are being held at gunpoint..." A different news station said.
Hearing a currenty-developing news story catch his ear, Buckley elevated its volume and decreased the volume of the others, listening carefully.
"...the man responsible for the holdup is Walter Phillips, who recently lost a legal custody battle in this same courthouse over his daughter, which Judge Ansolabehere was responsible for the final decision on the case. For several hours, Mr. Phillips has been repeating his demands to what he calls 'a fair trial' and has not harmed any of the hostages, but law enforcment has been encamped outside in wait for fear of bringing harm to a delicate situation..." The news station continued.
Having heard enough of the news report, Buckley donned the helmet to his costume, heading to a specialized vehicle known as the War Horse II, a replacement to the fast armorized transportation he had during his days in Hillwood. Watching the protective windshield fall over him, Buckley put the vehicle in drive, blasting off out of the cave and towards his destination with great speed.
Though he has been given some assurance that no hostages have been harmed, he does not waste time to arrive and ensure that they stay safe.
-
The city courthouse where Walter Phillips currently holds at gunpoint is fully under his control, but he is not in control at all.
Distressed with the loss of his daughter to his divorced wife, fighting feelings of helplessness in his inability to secure her back, and humiliation in him being called an unfit parent and unable to provide and care for her, he is the last person in the world who should be wielding a gun...
...but there is one in his hand, and it is a machine gun at that, giving him the ability to end several lives in great succession.
Driven by the all-too human feeling to be with his own children that he loves, his reasonings for what he does is understandable, but his approach towards the matter is not only less than acceptable, but brings great danger to everyone under his hold, many of which had nothing to do with his case or decision.
The poor clerks, men and women who only wish to survive and provide for their own, cower in fear, some wetting themselves under pressure. Walter Phillips has no intention of hurting these people, having ire only for the judge who was responsible for him losing his daughter, but his temperament makes it likely he might kill someone by pure accident, which they are reasonably afraid of.
However, the urge to kill Judge Ansolabehere is something he feels strongly, and the only murder he has contemplated thus far, as he kept the gun on him while shouting his demands to the police below, doing so with a voice that reeked of pain and desparation to accomplish his goal.
"I want a retrial! I don't want this old piece of shit deciding whether or not I can be with my daughter, I want a fair judge! And no matter how it turns out, I want my daughter back, do you hear me?!" Walter shouted.
On the ground, S.W.A.T. teams and specialists attempted to make their way up to free the hostages and put down their victor, but way up to the courthouse was too wide open a space for them to receive proper cover. Even the slightest edge towards the stairway resulted in warning shots being fired near their feet, forcing them back before any harm could come to them.
"You knock that shit off! I want somebody to talk to! Give me the chief of police or whoever it is you get for these things! And don't just bullshit me to get your boys inside! I've seen the movies!" Walter shouted.
A high-ranking police officer came forward with a loudspeaker, attempting to talk down Walter peacefully.
"Now, calm down, Mr. Phillips. We all understand you're very upset." The negotiator said.
"'Upset'?! Is that what you call it, asshole?! I lost my daughter to that lying, cheating bitch, and you're gonna tell me that I'm just 'upset'? No, I'm pretty pissed off, pal! Don't screw with me, or I'll blow the judges brains out!" Walter screamed.
"No, no, nobody wants that. Listen, we can work something out. Just let the judge and the clerks go, and put down the gun. We can all work this out later."
"What, do you think I'm stupid?! You're just gonna arrest me and take me even further away from my-"
Before either hostage taker or hostage negotiator could continue, the loud roaring of the War Horse II drowned out all other noise from the area, gaining the attention of everyone present. All looking to face the massive vehicle as it parked, all had equally gasped and awed the sight of Buckley Lloyd as he departed, fully in guise with his identity hidden from the public.
Stepping up to the staircase, Buckley was stopped by the negotiator, who angrily tried to block him from continuing.
"Hey, hey, what do you think you're doing here?!" The negotiator shouted.
"Keep him talking. I'll take it from here." Buckley said.
Once again keeping his identity secret with his words filtered through a voice distorter, he departed with indifference to the negotiator, who did not react the same.
"Hey, what are you-? Hey, hey!" The negotiator shouted.
"What the hell is he doing?! What's that all about?!" Walter shouted.
Putting his megaphone back up to his mouth, the negotiator addressed Walter once again, following through Buckley's orders.
"Uh, no, no, never mind him, he's doing his own thing. Why don't you focus on you and me? Just tell me what you want." The negotiator said.
"I want my daughter back! By any means necessary!" Walter shouted.
"You want your little girl, not a problem."
"And I don't want that bitch Susan to go anywhere near the kid! Or that poolboy she's been banging behind my back!"
"You got it. The bitch is out."
Unseen by Walter or any of the police, Buckley detached a small gun from his belt, firing it up to the roof, revealing it to be a grappling hook. Attaching the gun back to his belt, it had began elevating him to the top of the courthouse, allowing him to continue with his plan.
Discreetly walking to the access to the roof, Buckley snuck into the building, preparing to handle Walter in his own way.
"Hey, no problem at all, Walt. You let the judge go, we'll even get the kid into an Ivy League school." The negotiator said.
Detecting his offer as too generous to be believed, even in his delirious state, Walter turned on the negotiator, taking a more hostile tone.
"You screwing with me?!" Walter shouted.
"No, no, no, Walt, really. Stack of bibles. C'mon, I thought we were getting somewhere." The negotiator tried.
Watler grabbed Judge Ansolabehere from his holding spot on the ground, holding him up to the window, and puttnig the machine gun to his head.
"You screwing with me?! You wanna see what happens when you screw with me?! I'll show you! I'll blow his goddamn brains all over the nighttime news!" Walter screamed.
Then, a pair of armored hands burst through the wall adjacent to Walter Phillips, startling him out of his hold of the judge, and pulling him back and away from Judge Ansolabehere, allowing him to run free from his hold, and the clerks to all follow suit towards freedom.
Wildly firing his gun in the air, Walter wasted ammunition in a sloppy display of fear, once again demonstrating his lack of planning and skill in this situation he had put himself in. At last getting up to face his enemy, he found it to be Buckley Lloyd, stepping forward in his armored persona without fear or pause.
Firing his machine gun once again in a scream, Walter watched as the bullets harmlessly bounced off of Buckley's armored suit, and his gun losing all function when he grabbed the barrel and bent it in half, ruining the barrel and preventing it from being fired any longer.
Dropping his gun in fear, Walter helplessly watched Buckley throw a backhanded slap to his face, carrying enough force to send him to the window.
Crashing through the window, Walter let out a terrified scream, letting out a cry of finality as he came to his apparent end. In his last thoughts, he has only love for his daughter and an intense regret over the mistakes he has made in his life, including this one at the courthouse, wishing he could take it all back for another chance.
This wish is not granted, but a second chance is indeed given to him.
Expecting himself to continue falling, Walter's screams stopped as he realized he was no longer falling, looking to the ground as it still promised a death that was no longer for him. Looking up to see what had prevented him from coming to his doom, he saw a lone armored hand grabbing him by the leg, suspending him in the air.
That same hand had pulled him back into the building, leaving him to weakly plop to the ground in defeat, laying at the mercy of Buckley Lloyd.
"Why... Why didn't you kill me?" Walter asked.
"I know you lost your daughter in court. I can sympathize with your case. I can also give you some help. I know a few connections, I can help you win your daughter back." Buckley explained.
Hearing his would-be killer offer him a chance at what he desired most, Walter's temporary insanity began dying down to vulnerabilty, allowing himself to trust Buckley.
"Y-You mean it?" Walter asked.
"Yes. If you know anything about me, then you know that I've always tried my best to help families and kids." Buckley said.
"But you're Valiance. You kill people. You killed a lot of people back in Hillwood. I mean, before it got blown up and everything."
Buckley sighed under his mask, feeling deep remorse over his imstakes as they were repeated back to him.
"I did. I've done my best to make up for what I've done before. But you're wrong about one thing. My name is not Valiance anymore." Buckley explained.
Lest we forget to mention, his knight's armor no longer bore its black coloring, but now sported white and silver, like that of a shining knight with righteousness on his side.
"My name... is Vindicator." Buckley declared.
The affair had finished off with Vindicator leading Walter down the stairs of the courthouse, surrendering to the police in peace. Having resolved the situation nonlethally, once again establishing his new nature and new approach to crimefighting, Vindicator entered the War Horse II, leaving behind a crowd to bear witness to his good deeds.
Arriving back at his cave, Vindicator removed his helmet to reveal Buckley Lloyd's face once again, but not without another issue to resolve.
Feeling his face feel uncharacteristically wet, he touched his face to see blood left on his fingertips, originating from a nosebleed, with a minor headache following. Marching to a nearby desk, he retrieved a bottle of medicine and a glass of water, downing the medication to resolve the issue.
It takes a few moments to work, but the medication does its job, temporarily staving off this greater issue so that he can continue his job without the pain. While feeling the medication clear away the headache, his thoughts are not on his lost family, lost home, or even his current mission.
Instead, there is one name that comes to mind.
"Hey Arnold... hope this is doing the right thing." Buckley groaned.
Chapter 9: Chapter 7: The Magnificent Seven, Part 7
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 7: THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN, PART 7
America has its own mythology.
A mythology can be based in both facts and history, as well as fabrications and lies. More often than not, it is a mix of the two that creates stories everlasting that influence a country and its peoples, and the rest of the world in turn. A lie becomes easier to believe with a grain of truth, and the truth becomes far more believable when influenced by lies.
Those that are mythologized in history are those who tried their best to make a difference in the world, like civil rights leaders such as Martin Luther King, Jr., world peace activists such as John Lennon, or just kind, gentle people who wished to make a difference, such as 'Mr.' Fred Rogers.
Those that are mythologized in fiction are characters, ideas that we look up to in order to set a goal to become better than ourselves, like Superman, the invincible, near-omniscient, yet gentle man of steel, Batman, the man who took his inner demons and put them to use to fight injustice, or Spider-Man, a regular person who, despite all the pressures of his life, still does good no matter what.
Then, there are those who are very real indeed, but have become figures so much larger than life that they are almost a perfect blend of the two.
That is the Green Eye.
He has been referred to as the world's first real-life superhero, but that is a claim of great contention. From a long lineage of superheroes rumored to exist in Mexico going back as far as the 1800s, to a caped crimefigher by the name of Monkeyman in the same city as the Green Eye, there is no doubt that real-life superheroes did indeed exist long before this one.
But the impact he has made is undeniable.
[Soundtrack Cue: A Perfect Circle - (What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding?]
During one of the darkest hours in American history, when the island city of Hillwood was cut off from the United States, leaving its devestated population to starve and rot, the Green Eye single-handedly fought tooth and nail to hold his city back together, doing so until the bitter end of the city he so loved.
His story, managing to get out to the rest of the world even isolated in the hellhole he was trapped in, was heard by and resonated with thousands, if not millions. Already becoming the most well-known superheroes since his debut in the crime-ridden city of Hillwood, his actions since have cemented him as a true American hero.
And like all heroes whose names are still sung, people all across America honor his good works.
In every major city in the country, and even a large chunk of smaller cities, people gather round to murals dedicated to the Green Eye, gifting the murals with flowers and letters containing thanks written in words and even full poems. They not only give their thanks to the Green Eye for his deeds, but those with family lost in Hillwood mourn for their loved ones, almost cherishing the Green Eye as though he were one.
On all their faces, green face paint was put across their eyes, honoring the Green Eye with marks on their persons, in solidarity with him. Most of the face paint ends up on their own clothes or the ground, however, due to the many tears that were spilled during the memorials, but the gesture is still made clear.
The events are covered by every single news outlet across the country, and the reporters themeselves partake as well, themselves not even above the event.
"Over half a year ago, the city of Hillwood, Washington was destroyed under order of former president Milius Arcudi. The city was home to America's most famous superhero, the Green Eye, whose story has become a household name all across the country, as well as the world. Children and adults alike looked up to him, all seeming to find some connection to the original Hillwood hero. From his smaller good deeds to regular citizens, to his dramatic efforts to sustain Hillwood long after its disownning by the United States, he has been firmly cemented into the collective consciousness of humanity as one of its greatest people." The reporter sniffled.
The camera feed began to show the murals put up in honor of the Green Eye, showing various photographs taken of him as well as several drawings, some being detailed artistic depictions, and some simple sketches drawn by children, all showing their love for the hero.
"It is almost beyond description for this reporter or perhaps any other that can adequately describe the emotions that the crowd lets out here. Almost never has any one human being managed to garner such unanimous love and support from the world, but this is a testament to the impact he has left." The reporter sniffled.
Among the many paying their respects to the Green Eye, many had worn armbands bearing his symbol, an football-shaped eyeball with a green iris within. One person was filmed aiding a boy who scraped his knee with cream and a bandage, to which he was gifted one such bracelet in return by his mother.
"His neighborly approach to his fellow humans and dedication to good has also inspired a new trend of Green-Eye bracelets: In return for a good deed committed by another, these bracelets are given as a reward, made as a reminder of their good work, and encourage them to continue their neighborly acts." The reporter sniffled.
Holding hands with one another, the people sang as one, continuing to pay their respects to the Green Eye, all hoping their tribute would have an impact. The murals not only were showered with their loving words and gifts, but also was there a graffiti across the entire mural that shared the simple mantra that all had adhered to:
'THE GREEN EYE LIVES'.
"It... It would seem as though the Green Eye had perished with the rest of the Hillwood Heroes, but still do rumors persist that this much-beloved hero still lives, famously spread by Vlad Masters, head of the Hillwood Reclaimation Project. An individual has defaced the mural with the saying that popularized this claim, 'The...' 'The Green Eye Lives', but it has been met with unanimous support and treated as a tribute just the same." The reporter struggled.
Finally, the reporter herself began to lose her composure, taking the time to wipe the tears from her face and softly sobbed.
"I'm sorry. As you can see, even this reporter is not above the emotions that run wild in this site here today. All of us feel as though there is a part of ourselves missing without the Green Eye, and we do dearly miss our hero. Though he has inspired many to follow in his footsteps, there is no doubt that he cannot be replaced." The reporter sobbed.
The feed showed the reporter moving on to interview a little girl, who was wearing green face paint and had a Green-Eye bracelet, as well as a T-shirt that featured the Green Eye himself. She proved to be a perfect embodiment of the impact that the Green Eye had on children, and it is with her that the reporter decided to end her report on.
"If you could say just one thing to the Green Eye today, what would it be?" The reporter asked.
The little girl looked to the camera with teary eyes, responding to the Green Eye with a simple request.
"Come back." The girl cried.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
-
Sad as this scene is on the television, it is fortunately not the only one playing, as a simple change of the channel can spare further tears.
Tuning to the channel BBC Earth, the award-winning nature documentary Nigel Thornberry's Wild World runs yet another episode, continuing one of the longest runs on a nautre documentary show ever recorded. Covering every corner of the Earth, recording all of its wildlife from the most commonly found to the rare and endangered, it stands out as one of the greatest works of non-fiction ever committed to camera.
Even in his old age of 67, the jovial English zoophilist narrates yet another episode of his show, introducing the country of San Lorenzo.
"Hello again, and welcome to Nigel Thornberry's Wild World. Today, we are exploring the jungles of San Lorenzo. Gaining independence from Guatemala in 1963 by a revolution led by General Monzano, the country has been under military dictatorship since. It is not only one of the poorest countries on Earth, but also one of the smallest, only slightly bigger than Rhode Island. Most of its populace lives in its capital city of Puerto Clara, and the vast majority of this small country. It is here where we are today, where we search for what wildlife lay in wait in these vast jungles before us." Nigel narrated.
Concluding his take for the opening scene of the episode, Nigel's serious yet soft-spoken demeanor changed to a cheerier one, excited to get the rest of the episode underway with the enthusiasm of a child at play. His wife, Marianne, does not share the same level of energy, but smiles as she lowered her camera, having filmed her husband against a wall of trees.
"Well, Nigel, that sounds like a good start to me. I think we can say the introduction's done filming." Marianne said.
"Cheerio, Marianne! Excellent work as always by my beautiful wife, and efficient at that. Now, there's plenty of animals to film, and so little time to do-" Nigel began to say.
Grasping at his chest, Nigel began to groan, taking in a deep breath.
"Uh, Marianne?" Nigel asked.
Marianne responded before he could ask his question, giving Nigel a nitroglycerin pill, along with a bottle of water, both of which he took and consumed.
"Mmm... Ngh... Ah, that's much better." Nigel sighed.
"Remember, Nigel, the doctor said you need to be more careful. You're not the same old man you used to be." Marianne said.
"Yes, but your mother was saying much of the same to your father, and he proved all of us wrong on his little outing with Eliza. If he can do it, I can, too, can't I?"
"My dad didn't spend most of his life chasing after wild animals, or being chased by wild animals."
"Right, well, he missed out on some good fun, rest his soul, didn't he? That's alright, he was a fine chap, and raised a beautiful woman for me to marry. Now, enough chitchat, we've got a jungle to venture into. Eliza, Shane, you little lovebirds just about ready?"
Packing up the rest of the equipment needed to venture into the jungles of San Lorenzo, the additional crew of Eliza Thornberry and Shane Grant, the two also married, both holstered their backpacks and lifted up their bags, visually demonstrating that they were ready to go.
"Ready, dad." Eliza said.
"Ready, pops." Shane said.
"Right-O. And, eh, Tyler? You will be watching Donnie while we're gone?" Nigel asked.
Nigel's question was directed at Tyler Tucker, cousin to the Thornberry family, who leisurely laid at a table with a pair of drumsticks, playing a beat on the table.
"Watch him? Uncle Nigel, he's a grown man now, he'll be fine on his own." Tyler said.
"Yes, but you know how Donnie is, always up to something." Marianne said.
"Yes, and at a spanking 24 years old, he hasn't lost that bit of feral child in him, has he?" Nigel asked.
Donnie demonstrated his eccentric personality and high levels of energy through his current activity: An musician as talented as he is experimental, the adopted Thornberry child attempted to play a trumpet with his feet, while playing a bass guitar at the same time, curling himself into a ball in order to reach the trumpet with his mouth.
"Donnie, I'm telling you, man, it ain't gonna work." Tyler said.
"You just wait, man. I totally got this. Hendrix got people to watch him play guitar with his teeth, just imagine the people who come to see me do this." Donnie said.
Donnie returned to his nigh-impossible task of playing both instruments at once, leaving Tyler to shake his head.
"Right, then. We'll be off to film. Carry on, chaps!" Nigel laughed.
Leading on Marianne, Eliza, and Shane along with him, Nigel departed into the thick jungles of San Lorenzo, leaving Tyler and Donnie alone to their own devices, as they leisurely laid back by the Comvee, with Tyler continuing to play a beat with his drumsticks, and Donnie once again attempting his impossible musical feat.
The instant the rest of the family was out of sight, however, both congregated in conspiracy for a different activity.
"They gone?" Donnie asked.
"Yep." Tyler said.
"You got paper?"
"Always."
Taking a pack of rolling papers out of his pocket, Tyler prepared a piece as Donnie pulled a bag of marijuana out of his trumpet, selecting a bud for the paper. The instant he placed it on the paper, Tyler enthusiastically rolled a joint with the marijuana, lighting it and taking a puff before he passed it on to Donnie.
Smoking their herb together, both young men have their eyes to their joint rather than to the trees. Even had they looked to the trees, they would still have failed to notice that there was a presence in the trees looking down on them, observing them with the cautious look of a hunter, and keeping just as silent as one.
Staying obscured within the trees, he sees nothing of interest here, moving on to follow the departing Thornberrys.
-
Trekking through the jungles of the small Central American country, the two sets of married Thornberry couples move together as a troope, documenting nature and all its beauty, and keeping a keen eye open for whatever wildlife may reside in these thick, humid woodlands to document them.
The goal of these explorations is to educate the human race of the rest of the world around them and the life they share it with, being made aware of parts of the planet they may not think about, or the threats that could be presented to it. For in an industrialized world and in artificial cities, who has want or need of the natural world?
Fortunately, there are men like Nigel Thornberry who carry an enthusiasm for this world, virginally untouched by the human race, and, though he is still but a member of that same species, he leaves but gentle embraces of love upon this world, and speaks loving words that have not intimacy with this world, but act as his declaration of love for it.
"Having the unique distinction of being a scarcely-populated country with large swaths of jungle left to grow untouched and untamed, this is one of the most special places we here at Nigel Thornberry's Wild World have visited, and a place where this nature documentarian has been most looking forward to for most of his career. Aside from many humanitarian workers visit this country, and an infamous field trip of middle-schoolers in 2017 gone wrong, very few human hands have touched the green that grows in this land. This is a place of no industrialization, no gentrification, and no human interference. Just a jungle paradise with not a single sound of technology anywhere to be heard." Nigel narrated.
In the midst of his take, Nigel's poignant narration was interrupted by his cell phone, its ringing prompting him to answer it.
"Oh, uh, hold on a 'mo, Marianne, that would be Debbie." Nigel said.
Though taking minor annoyance with an otherwise perfect take disrupted by a phone call, Marianne forgave the indiscretion for a chance to talk to her firstborn child, and the following Eliza and Shane accompanying to join the call. Selecting the option for a video call, the four Thornberrys looked to the screen in anticipation...
...soon having their patience met by the face of Debbie Thornberry in a fancy suit, calling from a personal desk in London.
"Hey, guys. Having fun out there in San Lorenzo without me?" Debbie asked.
"Oh, it's not nearly as fun being out here without you, Debbie, dearie, but it's just a delight being in these jungles for the first time." Nigel said.
"Yes, although you happened to call at a time when we were filming." Marianne added.
"Oh, sorry, you guys. You want me to call back?" Debbie asked.
"No, it's alright, sweetie. You know we always try to make time for you. Just please be a little more mindful in the future. One call like that could scare an endanged animal out of our sight and cost us a shot. We have a few minutes now."
"Okay, okay. So, aren't you gonna ask me how my new, cushy office job is?"
"Yeah, tell us, Debbie!" Eliza said.
"Alright, well, first of all, we have our own coffee and tea bar with all kinds of stuff that you can't find at the store, and the sugar tastes a lot better than American sugar, it's not super-processed or anything like that. All my co-workers are my super-best girlfriends, they're all super-nice and have cool accents, and they all like the same music I like. The boys are all super-cute too, and, despite how the stereotype goes, they do not have bad teeth at all."
"Well, now, I could've told you that much, Debbie. Mother England sure can grow them handsome, can't she? Ngh-heh-heh-heh." Nigel snickered.
"Ugh. Dad. Please do not ruin this for me. Anyway, the reason I was calling was because my boss wanted to make sure you guys are all on schedule and everything, or if there's anything you need. This job's real nice, but the British guys who run the place seem more German at times, if you catch my drift."
"Oh, the BBC doesn't take kindly to lollygagging, Debbie. They do take their jobs very seriously, as do we."
"That's right. And speaking of which, we really should be returning to the shoot. Is there anything else you needed from us?" Marianne asked.
"Nope. All good on my end now. And now that I know you're all cool, I gotta go. Bye!" Debbie called.
"Bye-bye, Debbie, dearie!" Nigel called.
The remainder of the Thornberrys called their goodbyes to Debbie, watching the screen turn black as the call disconnected.
"Ah, that's our Debbie. One minute, she's barely taller than me own knee. The next, she graduates at top of her class in Oxford, and takes on an executive role for the show. Who would've thunk it?" Nigel smiled.
"Yes, and let's make sure we keep her there, and keep a good source of income for all of us. Girls, you ready to carry on?" Marianne asked.
"'Girls'? C'mon, Marianne, the hair's not girl hair, it's just long." Shane joked.
"Oh, uh, sorry, Shane. Force of habit. You two ready to go?"
"Ready when you are."
"Yeah, mom." Eliza said.
Continuing on through the jungles, the elder Thornberrys continued filming, with Nigel picking up where his narration left off while Marianne filmed him. Staying behind with most of the equipment on their backs, Eliza and Shane followed the two at a short distance, preventing themselves from potentially obstructing or ruining any shots.
All the while, Eliza had a melancholy look on her face, which Shane not only took immediate notice of, but called out with concern.
"Hey, Eliza. You okay, babe?" Shane asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Eliza said.
"You don't look so fine. You look a little down."
"I'm okay. It's just... I just kind of miss the old days, you know? It's not the same without Debbie or... or Darwin."
Shane let out a sigh, sharing Eliza's sorrow with her in sympathy.
"Yeah, I miss him, too. He was a cool chimp. But think of it this way: He was getting old, and he wasn't able to keep up anymore. He's back at the London Zoo where he can eat all the Cheese Munchies he wants. That's like, retirement goals for him." Shane said.
"I know, but it's still not easy. Could you imagine spending so many years with your best friend, and suddenly watch them grow old on you to where you can never see them again? Never spend as much time having fun like you used to together?" Eliza asked.
Shane responded by grabbing Eliza's hand, running his finger across her wedding ring as a means to remind her of their vows.
"I don't have to. I married my best friend, that way I can grow old with her." Shane said.
Eliza smiled in response, running her thumb across his hand in response.
"Oh, you've always been so sweet, Shane." Eliza said.
"It helps from being a former pop star. My old songs used to drive you nuts, remember?" Shane asked.
"Yeah. Now your music drives me nuts for different reasons."
"Aw, c'mon. Tucker and Donnie and me all make a great band. If it wasn't for your dad getting old and needing some extra help in giving your cousin a job-"
Seeing Eliza's face start to sour, Shane stopped talking when he recognized the problem he brought up, turning his head away in embarament.
"Eh, I mean, it's great to have the whole gang together, right? I get to spend time with my beautiful wife, and play with my band, all while helping on the best nature show on Earth." Shane said.
"Yeah. I guess so." Eliza said.
Having the topic of her father's age fresh in her mind, Eliza looked to Nigel once again, listening to his narration continue for the episode.
"However, there does exist a legend of a tribe of humans living deep in the jungles of San Lorenzo, known among the populace as Gente de Ojos Verdes, the Green-Eyed People. Their namesake comes from a bright green glow which comes from their irises, a genetic impossibility for humans who come from this region of the world. Their origins remain a mystery just as the rest of the legend itself; rumors of contact with this mysterious tribe have been reported over the past several years, but none have ever presented evidence that these mystical peoples exist, or if they ever had at all. Nonetheless, they remain a prevalent myth in the nation of San Lorenzo, strong enough that they warrant a mention on this very programme." Nigel narrated.
Upon hearing the mention of this lost tribe of people, Eliza, having her mind start to wander to the past, saw the mention as an opportunity for adventure, wishing to relive a more pleasant part of her past. Taking her hand back from Shane, she started to walk away from the rest of the group.
"Eliza? Where are you going?" Shane asked.
"I, uh, have to pee. I'll be right back." Eliza lied.
"Oh. Ok, we'll wait here."
Having excused herself from the others, Eliza has allowed herself a moment of privacy, giving her a chance to seek out the Green-Eyed People her own way.
The one in the trees watching the Thornberrys knows the true intention in the heart of Eliza Thornberry, and makes her his target to observe. Discreetly moving through the trees, he watches the visitor in his jungles, waiting to see what agenda of her own she has.
Unaware she is being watched, Eliza carried on as though she were alone, stuck within her own thoughts.
After an encounter with a wild boar stuck in a trap, freeing it only to have it transform into a human being, a witch doctor at that, going by the name of Shaman Mnyambo, Eliza's act of kindness was repaid with the supernatural ability to talk to animals, communicating with all things in the kingdom of animalia.
The only catch is that she can tell no one of this gift, a pact she has broken once before out of necessity, and revowed never to do again.
Many times has she helped the creatures she has encountered, and just as many times she has acted to their detriment, becoming a striking embodiment of the duality of human beings' ability to be both a boon and a bane to the natural world. Other times, she has simply passed them by on her own path, living out childish needs for fun and adventure.
Even while a married woman in her 20s, her youth and desire for adventure have not left her, nor her gift itself. Searching the ground in search for an animal which may have interacted with this lost tribe, she hopes to find a creature with information on where to find them once again.
Her search brought her to an armadillo, which her footsteps rudely woke out of its sleep.
"[Ah! Hey, keep it down, will you? Some people are trying to sleep here. It's way too bright to be up yet!]" The armadillo shouted.
"[Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.]" Eliza apologized.
"[Yeah, well, I'm up now, and- Hey, wait a minute, are you talking to me?]"
"[Yeah. I can talk to animals. It's kind of a long story.]"
"[Whatever. You mind letting me get back to bed?]"
"[Wait! Before you go back to bed, I want to ask you something.]"
"[Yeah? What?]"
"[Have you ever seen a bunch of people like me come through these jungles, people with bright green eyes?]"
"[What's green?]"
"[You know, green? The color? Like all the grass and trees?]"
"[What do you mean, the grass and trees? Those are plants. I got no clue what a 'color' is.]"
"[You know, color. It's like... When you have one thing that looks a certain way, but another thing that's shaped the same, but it still looks different. Maybe it's brighter, or maybe it's darker. Color.]"
"[I've seen plenty of things that look brighter or darker, but I never heard of any 'color' stuff. If you're looking for more people shaped like you, I saw 'em just yesterday.]"
"[You did? Where?]"
"[Just down that trail. There's a whole bunch of 'em together in a whole pack. You can't miss 'em.]"
"[Great! Thanks a lot!]"
"[Yeah, don't mention it.]"
Leaving the armadillo to return to his slumber, Eliza ran back to the rest of the Thornberrys. The one watching from the trees has only a basic understanding of what he saw, seeing her speak to the animal in a manner he has never seen before, but he knows what the contents of the conversation have entailed.
Once again, he follows the adventurous Thornberry, watching and waiting.
When Eliza arrived back to the rest of her family, she found Shane quietly staying behind as Marianne shot another monologue coming from Nigel. Discreetly keeping herself hidden and silent from the others as they worked on their shot, Eliza grabbed Shane's hand, tugging him along.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Shane whispered.
"I think I found a clue where to find the Green-Eyed People. C'mon, follow me!" Eliza whispered.
"But what about your parents and the show-?"
Ignoring Shane's concern about the elder Thornberrys and the show, Eliza pulled him away on a self-imposed adventure, leaving the episode to continue uninterrupted. And once again, these two have gained the attention of the one in the trees, marking them as his center of attention, and he follows along them from above.
Nigel, well within his narration, continued with great enthusiasm.
"And here, we can see the Ateles geoffroyi, or, the Geoffroy's spider monkey, in his natural habitat in the trees. Named in honor of the French naturalist Etienne Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, this is an endangered species of primate that requires large tracts of forest to survive, making the jungles of San Lorenzo nothing short of a safe haven for this animal. They feature a prehensile tail, carrying enough strength to be used as a fifth limb, which can be used to collect his diet of fresh fruits- Eh... Or, uh, as it seems, used for masturbation, which is quite a, er, common habit among primates... Oh, my, he's a trooper, that little one, isn't he? Eh, Marianne, do you think they'll let this be shown on the telly?" Nigel asked.
"Well, I'm not exactly the target audience for monkeys spanking the monkey, but if National Geographic can show African tribal boobies, I'm sure we can get away with this. It's your call, Nigel." Marianne shrugged.
"Right-O. Eh, well, this probably isn't exactly in the spirit of Nigel Thornberry's Wild World, so we might wish to let the little fellow... er, finish before we continue."
Pressing the 'RECORD' button on her camera, Marianne ceased shooting, allowing the two to take a break.
"Alright. In any case, I'd rather not record any more of this. Brings me flashbacks to when Donnie was a teenager." Marianne said.
"Oh, yes, what a growth spurt that boy went through, ngh-heh-heh." Nigel laughed.
"Nigel, please never use the word 'spurt' regarding that. Remember the last time we left him alone, and the inside of the Comvee looked like a Rorschach test? That was not a pleasant experience."
"Egh, yes, well, good that the boy's gotten better control of himself now."
"Yes, and I'm proud to say we can extend that to Eliza and Shane for not giggling at-"
Turning around in expectation to see Eliza and Shane, Marianne and Nigel both noticed they were gone, having departed without their notice.
"Nigel, they're gone." Marianne said.
"Oh, probably stopped for the loo, we should give them a minute." Nigel said.
"They went at the same time? Without telling us?"
Realizing the situation was potentially more serious than it seemed, Nigel dropped his oafishness for seriousness, showing concern for his daughter and son-in-law.
"Right, dearie. Perhaps we should check on them, yes?" Nigel asked.
-
Not too far away, Eliza and Shane, the latter dragged by hand by the former, and after a hasty explanation of the detour from the main show, continued on with the search for the Green-Eyed People. Brought against his will and forced to go against his own common sense, Shane continued to question the journey, listening more to his own instincts than his wife.
"Eliza, I know you always love a good adventure and all, but, don't you think you're taking a big risk here?" Shane asked.
"No more of a risk than I've taken before. You've been in one jungle, you've been in them all." Eliza said.
"Yeah, but in a jungle this thick, in a country under a military dictatorship?"
"Plenty. Why are you such a worrywart today? You're the one who used to cause plenty of problems when you first joined up with us. You almost got yourself killed by an angry wolverine."
"Yeah, but I was a young douchebag teenager then. I learned my lesson."
"C'mon, don't be a party pooper. Just follow me."
While running through the jungle, the two came to a stop when the sound of grass crunching and branches breaking, both taking caution in regard to any potential threats or predators. For the eager and adventurous Eliza, she approached the situation with stealth, taking just enough care to remain safe, while still allowing herself to get closer to danger.
Sneaking up through the foliage, Shane stayed close behind her, keeping as vigilant as possible for threats.
"What do you see so far?" Shane whispered.
"Nothing yet. I think I hear some people this way." Eliza whispered.
"You really think it could be the Green-Eyed People?"
"I don't know yet. Nobody else's out in this jungle except for us, so I'm inclined to think so."
"Yeah, but what if it's poachers? How many times have you told me about how you ran into them?"
"In San Lorenzo? You know how hard it is to get into this country? It took us months to get approved for entry here."
"And what about getting in without approval? I don't think poachers are particularly concerned with getting into countries legally."
"Okay, okay, point taken. But I think we'll be fine. After all, how many times we spent together in all sorts of countries without running into-"
Moving through one last thicket of bush, both Eliza and Shane looked to see not any Green-Eyed People, but instead the one threat to wildlife they hoped not find.
"...poachers." Eliza whimpered.
Through her small window of vision, Eliza laid eyes on several men loading up various animals in cages, from common to endangered alike, taking ones with high-valued furs like cougars, ocelots, foxes, and jaguars, and several smaller animals alike such as kinkajous, toucans, and monkeys, for their exotic factors for rich buyers.
It is a horrible sight for any animal lover to see, and one that Eliza Thornberry has seen one too many times in her life.
Her anger and disgust is experienced not only by herself and Shane, but also the observing one in the trees, looking down on the sight with an anger greater than either of the visitors could feel. These jungles are his home, and have been so for many years of his life...
...and, looking down with narrowed eyes, he does not take too kindly to intruders.
"Boy, do I hate being right all the time." Shane whispered.
"Shut up, Shane. Here's the plan. We have to go back and get dad, he'll call in the local authorities." Eliza whispered.
The sound of cocked guns were heard by both, and gun barrels were felt against their heads, putting a stop to this plan the instant it was made.
"You two aren't going anywhere. Get up." A poacher ordered.
Putting their hands behind their heads, the couple got up off the ground, soon forced back down onto it on their knees. Their hands were instantly bound together with zip-ties, preventing them from escaping to tell of their illegal deeds. As they stood helpless to move, daring not to scream and receive a bullet to the head, one poacher approached forward towards the two...
...and, upon looking back at him, Eliza realized she knows this particular poacher well, and scowled as she spoke out his name.
"Kip O'Donnell." Eliza sneered.
Standing over Eliza Thornberry, dressed in his preferred attire of military fatigues and a boonie hat, concealing his eyes with a pair of sunglasses, the Australian poacher looked down on Eliza with a smile, snickering out a taunt over her in his gravelly Austrailan accent.
"Well, well, well. Little Eliza Thornberry, all grown up. How very nice to see you again." Kip said.
Taking a pistol out of a holster on his leg, Kip O'Donnell smacked Eliza in the face with it, marking it as the last thing she saw while still conscious.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Shane yelled.
Attempting to defend the honor of his wife, Shane lunged forward to attack, regardless of the handicap of his bound hands, but was met with a rifle butt to the back of his head, sending him the way of Eliza. Letting his unconscious body fall besides Eliza's, the poachers prepared to have them taken back.
"They're not alone. Nigel and his wife are here as well, along with the other two Thornberry brats. Find them and bring them back." Kip ordered.
His subordinates headed out into the jungles to complete the order, marching forward with rifles and firearms to secure their targets.
With most heading out on their mission, the small encampment they set up for capturing the San Lorenzo wildlife was left mostly unattended, allowing for any others in the jungle to sneak in undetected. There are no more Thornberrys present or aware of the situation to do so...
...but the one in the trees quietly came down, stepping up to the cages which held the wildlife against their will. A small ocelot, looking at the approaching one, meowed in an angered manner, having been agitated by various poachers handling it, and being trapped in a cage.
But when he came closer, the ocelot lowered its tone and parched down in ease.
The hand that reaches out to it has white skin, but the owner is just as Green-Eye as the fabled Green-Eyed People, and, carrying on their magic, he calms down the ocelot, assuring it of its imminent safety. The ocelot now knows that it will be saved, just as its other brethren in the jungle now know.
And the one in the jungle watches and waits for his chance.
-
Eliza Thornberry's consciousness returned to her over an hour later, with her coming to on the inside of a boat, as she was once again bound and unable to move, this time strapped to a chair. Instinctively trying to free herself, her struggles against her restraints provided no rewards for her efforts, leaving her at the mercy of her captors.
When the idea of escape is out of her mind, her thoughts then go to the rest of her family, and she finds all of them with her. They, too, are bound and helpless just as she is; Nigel, Marianne, Shane, Donnie, and Tyler, they have all been captured and restrained, preventing them from escaping and reporting on the crime of poaching that has been discovered in San Lorenzo.
The men responsible for the crime were all around them, all armed with rifles and other firearms, and all keeping close eyes on the Thornberrys. Out of concern for their lives, none had further struggled against their restraints or attempted to attack, carefully biding their time to safety.
"Eliza, poppet, are you alright?" Nigel asked.
"I'm fine, dad. Just got a bump in the head." Eliza said.
"We ran into some poachers. They got us, and then they went for the boys." Marianne said.
"Yeah, don't remind us. We found 'em when Eliza decided she wanted to go off an adventure." Shane said.
"Ooh! Just like the old days. I remember when Eliza would run into poachers all the time, and send 'em all packing! This oughtta be fun." Donnie cheered.
"Ever wonder why I never came back on these trips until you started paying me for them?" Tyler snarked.
Then, stepping forward, the two poachers responsible for the operation taking place in San Lorenzo revealed themselves. Kip O'Donnell was seen once again, and by his side was the short and portly Neil Biederman, and, with their enemies caught and subjugated before them, both smiled in pleasure.
"Back to the waking world, I see. And we've got ourselves a nice family reunion. The blonde bimbo I found absent, but I'm greeted by two new boys. You would be?" Kip asked.
"Wouldn't you like to know, amoral Afrikaner?" Tyler joked.
"He's not South African, Tyler, he's Australian." Eliza corrected.
"Correct, Miss Thornberry, and thank you for answering my question for him." Kip smiled.
Realizing her unintentional mistake, Eliza cringed in self-annoyance.
"Damn it." Eliza swore.
"And the other boy... You know, I do believe I've seen you somewhere before. Weren't you one of those MTV popstars back in the day? Shane G., if I'm not mistaken?" Kip asked.
"Yeah, then Taylor Swift came by and put me out of a job. Got another gig in a rock band now." Shane joked.
"You're a long ways from home, teeny-bopper. How the hell are you mixed up with this family?"
"Well, I happen to be a part of it now, I... married this lovely redhead sitting next to me."
"Shane, don't give him what he wants. He'll do anything he can to hurt us." Eliza interrupted.
"Wise words from your wife, teeny-bopper. These jungles are a very easy place to get lost. Perhaps you never actually encountered any poachers at all, perhaps you wandered off too far, and you perished in the jungles without any aid, and no one would find any evidence to the contrary. Am I making this clear enough for you, or should I rephrase this in the form of a love song for you?" Kip asked.
"Do whatever you want to me, shithead. You just leave Eliza alone." Shane said.
"On the contrary, teeny-bopper, I have no real quarrel with you. Aside from your decision to marry into the wrong family, my attention is reserved for Eliza Thornberry."
Singling out Eliza, Kip knelt before her, putting his own face against her own as he let out a deep exhale full of anger.
"Yes, this little straw has broken the camel's back one too many times. You've cost me more bounties than I can count, driven me out of so many countries, and let's not forget that little incident where I ended up a slave to that curry-wog rajah for several months." Kip said.
"I don't know, boss, I kind of liked wearing that dress. It really breathed." Beiderman added.
The side-comment from Beiderman earned him a scowl from Kip, who did not take kindly to his idiotic interruption.
"Beiderman, you idiot, shut up." Kip growled.
As Beiderman backed down as ordered, Kip returned his attention to Eliza, this time beginning to lightly stroke her face.
"This time, however, you'll be pleased to know I'm not taking any more chances with you. I think this should be a nice, final solution to the Thornberrys and their animal-loving ilk, always filming those hideous things. Speaking of hideous, you know, you filled in quite nice. Letting the hair down is a vast improvement over the girly ponytails, and the losing the braces did you well. The old ugly duckling turned out to be a beautiful mallard after all." Kip said.
The inappropriate comments and touching gained quietly angry looks from the rest of the Thornberrys, but only Nigel dared risk his life to speak up.
"Alright, Kip, I don't care what you do to me, but you don't lay a finger on my daughter in that way. You want to take advantage of her, you'll have to get through me first." Nigel threatened.
Getting up from his kneeling stance, Kip turned around and walked away, continuing a self-aggrandizing monologue to the Thornberrys.
"Oh, don't worry, Nigel, old boy. Pretty little thing your daughter may be, I've no interest in that. No, I'm not some cartoonish villain who rapes and pillages, twirling my little mustache. I'm going to kill you soon enough, but I want you to know that your deaths are very, very personal to me." Kip said.
-
Concurrent to Kip personally handling the captive Thornberrys, the crew of his ship continued on their work to secure their bounties.
Operating on a small oil tanker, the flat surface of the ship is filled with hired help as its crew, loading up several cages full of animals to be put onboard and shipped off away from their natural habitat, becoming exotic furs and food. Interested only in money, the moral aspect of what they do has no burden on their souls, and the crew continues without care.
But the one in the jungles does care, and he has followed the cages here to see his work done.
Upon loading the final cage, a pair of crew members carried it to the several others loaded aboard, placing yet another endangered animal among the others to be sold off. Exhausted from a long day of work, both pant and wipe the sweat from their brows, taking a moment to catch their breaths.
"[Hard to believe people want coats made of these ugly things. Enough time in this weather, you'll never want a fur coat again.]" One crewmate jested.
"[Don't matter to me, as long as their money's good. You wanna grab a beer?]" The other crewmate asked.
"[Yeah.]"
Leaving the animals behind and unattended, believing them secure and unlikely to be disturbed, the crewmates stepped to a cooler to obtain beers to drink.
"[You know, we shouldn't be drinking this on a hot day. Dehydrates you faster. Not to mention increases your chances for boater's hypnosis. That's no good.]" One crewmate said.
"[You worry way too much, don't you?]" The other crewmate asked.
"[Can't be too careful in life, my friend. You're not careful enough, everything important could just slip right out under your nose.]"
"[Ah, shit happens. That's just how life goes.]"
"[Oh, that reminds me, I better make sure the rachet straps are down tight. I'll be right back.]"
"[Like I said, worry too much.]"
Carrying his beer with him, sipping it as he walked, the crewmate stepped back over to the cage of animals, preparing to adjust said rachet straps.
Upon arriving to the cages, however, he noticed a much more obvious problem, making him spit out his drink with eyes widened in shock in response.
While every cage that the crew brought up was in place and secured, every single animal that was in them was gone without a trace, all having disappeared in a manner of seconds. Unable to comprehend the incredible phenomena that his hard work became, the crewmate stood without words or any further reaction.
"[Hey, how long can it take to fix a rachet strap?]" The other crewmate asked.
"[They... They're gone.]" The first crewmate whimpered.
"[What?]"
"[They're gone! The animals are all gone!]"
Joining back with his crewmate to investigate, the second crewmate reacted in the same manner as his friend, spitting out his beer with widened eyes.
"[What was that you said about worrying about things?]" The first crewmate asked.
"[We gotta tell the boss.]" The second crewmate said.
=
Back on the area of the ship holding the captive Thornberrys, neither the Thornberrys nor their captor had any knowledge of this yet, left to their personal business built up over the years. As Kip's sight was taken away from the Thornberrys, Beiderman stepped up to Shane, pulling out a marker and a CD recorded from his days a popstar.
"Hey, uh, before the boss kills you, I just want you to know that I was always a big fan of your work. That collaboration you did with Britney Spears, excellent. Can I have your autograph on this before you die? It'll be worth the big bucks after you're dead." Beiderman said.
Placing a clenching hand on Beiderman's shoulder, Kip pulled him aside, preventing him from obtaining his autograph.
"Beiderman, you idiot, must you continue to chum it up?" Kip asked.
"Well, you know, nothing like a little money on the side, right? Or, you know, just to have it as a collector's item?" Beiderman asked.
Kip scowled at Beiderman with a growl, forcing him to concede and back down.
"Okay, okay. Look, can we just hurry this up and kill them, and get back to work? This whole jungle has been making me feel skittish. Like something's not right here." Beiderman said.
"Oh, what could possibly be wrong this time? We've got the Thornberrys tied down and out of our way, soon to be dead, and we've gotten our payload of animals, meaning we're soon to be gone. What are you so afraid of?" Kip asked.
"Well... You know... This jungle."
"You've seen one jungle, you've seen them all, and we've seen plenty. Why this jungle?"
"You know... This is where La Sombra died."
"La Sombra? That incompetent beaner? He was killed and eaten by some cannibals living in this region, nothing of value was lost."
"That ain't what I heard, boss. I heard the Green Eye got him."
"The Green Eye?! Please, Biederman, stop embarrassing yourself. La Sombra died far before that goody-green-two-shoes ever even showed his face. Now, he's been nuked to oblivion with the rest of Hillwood. Even were your analysis true, the Green Eye is far from a concern anymore."
"But, boss, I'm telling you-"
"'But' nothing. Shut up and remember this: There is no more Green Eye. And there most certainly isn't anything going to go wrong."
"Boss! Boss! Something went wrong!" A crewmate shouted.
Running into the room with haste, running down the stairs to the lower deck, the two crewmates who discovered the missing animals arrived to tell their employer regarding their disappearances, both doing so with exasperated expressions and heavy breaths taken at their arrival.
"What? What's going on?" Kip asked.
"Boss... All the animals... are gone." The crewmate panted.
"What do you mean, 'gone'? What happened?"
"One second, they were all in their cages. We turned our backs and came back, they were gone. I don't know how they got out, but they did."
The instinctual motion is for Kip to turn his attention back to the Thornberrys, pulling the handgun from his holster and putting it against Eliza's head. Watching the weapon being put against her head, the rest of the family immediately shouted in protest, pleading for Eliza's life to be spared.
"Who's here with you?!" Kip shouted.
"Nobody!" Eliza panicked.
"Don't lie to me, who's here with you?! The San Lorenzian army?! Interpol? Goddamn Greenpeace?!"
"I swear, we had nothing to do with it!"
"You little bitch, don't you fu-"
Kip's threat was cut short by the sudden landing of a blade in his hand, forcing his hand away from Eliza's head and forcing him to drop his gun. Screaming in pain, his reaction urged the rest of his crew to surround him, checking on their leader to ensure his safety.
"Boss? You okay?" Beiderman asked.
"No, I'm not okay, you idiot! Something's stuck in my hand!" Kip screamed.
"Well, what is it?"
Grabbing the blade embedded in his hand, Kip pulled it out with a pained groan, holding it in his hands to inspect it. Able to see what had afflicted him and made him drop his weapon, he found himself looking at a small blade, with a hilt bearing decoration reminiscent of the Mayans, and several green jewels.
Then, silently dropping in from the ceiling, the one who threw the knife showed himself, dropping on one gunman and beginning to beat him down.
Kip, Beiderman, and the various crewmates of the ship, as well as the Thornberrys, all watched as their comrade was beaten down by the stranger, surprised by his sudden presence, and stunned by his viciousness. Punch after punch he laid into the poor crewmate, leaving him unconscious on the floor in mere seconds.
Standing up from his defeated enemy, the man stood up to observe the other occupants in the lower deck. As he stood up, the shock came over the room, all present in the lower deck drew their weapons and pointed them directly at its owner, at last seeing the intruder.
He was a white man with glowing green eyes and a football-shaped head, sporting long blonde hair. His dress was nothing more than a simple pair of shorts made of brown rags, and he appeared to have no weapons on him, making appear as less than a threat as he was.
Nonetheless, this urged Kip and his subordinates to lower their guard, carefully keeping their eyes on him.
"Well, well, well. What have we now? A new feral boy. Blonde hair this time, and he's the strong, silent type. Nice little trick you did with that knife, but I'm afraid it won't be enough to save your friends." Kip said.
The football-headed man made no response, staying quiet to gain a scowl from Kip.
"Definitely emphasizing the 'silent', I see. Sure there isn't anything you'd like to say before my men gun you down?" Kip asked.
"Crossfire." The man said.
"What?"
"Your men are standing directly across from each other, and pointing their guns straight across. They're not going to hit me."
"Oh, I think they'll be able to hit you just fine. Do you really think you'll be able to dodge bullets coming at you from every direction?"
"Yes."
The confidence in his answer made all present skip in their speech before responding again, but Kip chuckled, continuing with a smile.
"You're crazy." Kip scoffed.
"I can sense things better than you or anyone else can. I can feel how nervous your men are, taste and smell their sweat beading down. Anything you can sense, I can sense 9 times better and faster. Your men open fire, they're only killing themselves. I'm giving you a fair warning." The man said.
Once again, the subordinates of Kip stood uncertain and confused by his confidence, but Kip himself did not yet falter.
"And if I ignore your warning?" Kip asked.
"Then you die in this jungle. And it won't be me who kills you. It'll only be yourselves. All I can do is try to talk you out of it. I've only killed one person in my entire life and tried to talk other people out of dying, and I saw firsthand how useless it is. I've already given you a chance to back out now and change your ways, but we both already know what you're going to do, don't we?" The man asked.
A moment of time is spent in contemplation of the man's words, but Kip nonetheless ignored his words, opting to carry on as he planned.
"On that, it seems we agree. Open fire." Kip ordered.
The order is given, but not followed. The men still stand in fear, unwilling to make any sudden moves against the football head.
His very presence demands their respect, and feelings of terror are warranted with the look in his glowing green eyes. They can sense that this man is different from the rest of the human population, knowing that no one is like this one man for a reason they cannot specify.
Once, this reason might have been a benevolent one, but it is no longer, instead making them grow uneasy against attacking him.
"What are you waiting for? Shoot him." Kip ordered.
Yet still, the men do not shoot. Their guns are still pointed directly at the football head, but they do not act.
Neither, however, does the football head himself. Feeling himself in no particular danger, he merely scanned around the room, eyeballing each gun being pointed at him. Carefully does he observe the room around him; he has no need to count the guns or enemies, but instead he watches them as a predator would his imminent prey.
This impression is made well on the gunmen, and even more so do they falter.
"Fire!" Kip shouted.
FInally, one gunman, his sweat beading down and his hand shaking, nervously pulled the trigger of his handgun, firing off the first bullet.
Flying out of the barrel of his gun, 9 millimeters of metal flew directly towards the football head. Sensing the bullet come his way with senses working faster than any normal human's brain, that same brain also sends an electrical signal to the parts of his body in immediate danger, allowing him plenty of time to dodge out of the way of the bullet.
And, just as the football head predicted, the bullet hit not him, but instead one of the other subordinates of Kip, killing him in an instant.
[Soundtrack Cue: Sevendust - Tits on a Boar; Starting from 0:20]
The realization is not made, and none have the cool-headed attitude to stop and find an alternate solution. Fear has completely taken over the men, along with foolhardiness brought about by the weapons in their hands. Now that the first strike has been made, and a man is now dead, instinct says that it is time to act.
Let the bullets fly.
Over and over are every gun fired, sending bullets all across the room. The football head has not been hit by any one thus far, and all he needs to is dodge.
Moving across the room in a manner combining acrobatics, breakdancing, and parkour, moving down to the floor, jumping up over it, and returning to the ceiling, not a single bullet could touch him. Further cementing his protection against the gunfire, his dance across the deck also included him destroying the lights, shattering the light bulbs with a simple chop or slap.
He is left untouched, but the ones the bullets do touch are the gunmen themselves. While making his dance across the ship's room, bullets landed in the heads and bodies of Kip's men. Whether they land by direct hits or ricochets, those who choose to fire their weapons die by the very weapons they wield.
The football head does not take pity on these men or try to influence their decisions. He has made a life of doing such a thing once before, and it has taken from him everything he held dear, to the point where the troubles of the human race are no longer his concern, and what altruism he once had has been snuffed out.
What happens to these people, happens.
Kip, however, is not so easily manipulated into his own demise as his underlings, and kept his head low, with Beiderman at his side. He noticed that, miraculously, of all the bullets sent across the room, none had come into contact with either him or the Thornberrys, leaving them completely untouched and safe.
"Goddamn wogs. Should've known better than to trust these idiot darkies. They're almost as dumb as the animals." Kip muttered.
"Maybe we can train the animals to hold the guns next time, boss." Beiderman suggested.
Having his own plan to ensure his safety, he discreetly grabbed the restrained Eliza Thornberry and dragged her along.
"Beiderman, follow me." Kip ordered.
"Hey! Where are you taking me?" Eliza asked.
"Don't worry, Thornberry. Just taking a little insurance policy."
The football head's dance continued across the room, going back and forth and side to side and zig-zagging all around. He still remained untouched by a single bullet, and still do those foolish enough to fire their guns are killed by their own teammates, leaving them to die by their own violent ways.
Below decks and dimly lit, the gunmen have very little sight of their target, merely catching a blur or a glimpse of his image. This poor visibility adds to the self-imposed slaughter, with friendly fire being the cause of death for the entire crew within the lower deck, making for a humiliating way to die.
The poor visibility, made all the worse by the destroyed light, led to the gunmen not even having an understanding of what laid mere feet in front of them, mostly firing in the dark in hopes of hitting their enemy. When the gunfire began to dwindle down, the silence marking the end of many lives wasted on heinous crimes, two such gunmen carefully prowled about the deck, searching out for the enemy.
The two came almost into contact with each other, neither able to see another, but they both shared a field of visibility that would serve enough to spot an enemy right in front of them, standing apart from each other on both sides of the target and not having any chance to miss.
Their enemy presented himself for a split-second, landing in the line of sight, before jumping away into the dark.
Aiming their guns once again, the gunmen opened fire. Without their target to receive the bullets, the two gunmen standing apart from each other, they had ended up merely shooting each other, both falling flat to the ground with not a shred of consciousness in their heads, and a bullet in each instead.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Landing back on the ground again, the football head stood tall, casually approaching Kip.
"Your men lived by the sword. Now, they died by the sword. Will you join them?" The football head asked.
He found Kip holding the restrained Eliza Thornberry with a knife to her neck, slowly walking backwards as he held his hostage, with Beiderman nervously hiding behind them both. Beiderman is unsure of what his partner has planned, but Kip himself has little of a plan, forced to take a hostage out of sheer desperation.
The football head seemed unfettered by this fact, casually picking up a handgun from a dead subordinate and pointing it at Kip, which caused gasps among the survivors.
"Let the woman go." The football head ordered.
"Oh, I don't think so. Even if you struck me as the kind of person to use a gun, you wouldn't risk it even for her, would you?" Kip asked.
The football head cocked the hammer back, further cementing his bluff.
In return, Kip pulled out a grenade, revealing it to have its pin pulled out.
"Ah, ah, ah. This is an oil tanker. You know what that means? Plenty of flammable crude oil is on this boat. This can make the whole ship go sky-high." Kip threatened.
Stepping over to a bridge, Kip held the grenade over the edge, showing below it to be several vats of crude oil, reinforcing his threat.
"I'll do it, you Tarzan boy bastard! Drop the gun!" Kip ordered.
"You won't do it." The football head said.
"Oh, won't I? You don't think I will?"
"You won't. You're a money-oriented person. You know the oil you fracked onto this ship is your only chance at a payday after losing the animals, and you're too greedy to be suicidal. You love living a wretched life too much to give it up. After all, if you were going to kill yourself in an explosion, what would you need a knife against her neck for?"
Having his bluff seen through on a level more personally than expected, Kip faltered in fear, only to hold his ground again.
"Perhaps. Then again, after I saw what you did to my men, maybe I'm already dead. If I'm not making it out of here alive, then you're not, either." Kip said.
In further support to Kip, a group of more gunmen marched down the stairs to the lower deck, all running to the football head and pointing their weapons at him. Glancing back to see the reinforcements lining up behind him, the football head resumed his look at Kip, seeing him smugly smile back.
"But, of course, there's always the chance I was just waiting for the cavalry to arrive all this time. Now, if you will... drop the gun." Kip ordered.
Initially holding his ground, the football head watched as the knife against Eliza's throat came closer, threatening to cut it.
"No! Ah!" Eliza yelped.
"Eliza!" The Thornberrys shouted in unison.
The Thornberrys all jumped in fear as a raw reaction to the threat to Eliza, but the football head also responded. Holding his hands up, he allowed the handgun in his right hand to linger and hang on his index finger, preparing to fully release the weapon from his grasp, and consummating that goal by letting it slip off his finger.
Watching the handgun fall, Kip and his subordinates smiled, believing themselves to be safe...
...then, watching the handgun fall, the football head fell to the floor and caught the falling gun, aiming it at Kip quicker than he could perceive the catch or aim.
Firing his carefully-aimed round, the football head shot a bullet straight to Kip's hand, severing the fingers on it with one blast. The pain of losing his fingers was obviously an injury that made Kip scream and hold his hand in pain, releasing Eliza, but also had his loss of fingers made him release something else that was vital to his survival:
The armed grenade.
Watching it bounce off of the railing, Kip saw it fall to the pit of crude oil below, leading him and his subordinates to gasp in terror as their doom came upon them, soon screaming afterwards. As Eliza was released, he chair shattered against the floor, freeing her, and she immediately used that freedom to run to her family, grasping them for safety.
"I got it, I got it!" Beiderman shouted.
Jumping off the railing into the crude oil below, Beiderman leapt with either the courage or stupidity required of the task, luckily catching the grenade mid-fall.
Upon landing in the crude oil, he began unscrewing the fuse from the body of the grenade, either cleverly or coincidentally keeping it from detonating another pool of oil.
Then, luck prevailed a third time, and he unscrewed the fuse, preventing the grenade from exploding.
Having watched the affair with a tension never-before felt in their lives, what comes next is the greatest of relief, with Kip starting to chuckle, then full-out laughing. The gunmen under his command had started to follow suit, and even the Thornberrys allow themselves some levity with laughter.
Beiderman, having declared himself the savior of the day, cheerfully raised both halves of the grenade up, bouncing up and down in joy.
"Yeah-hah-hah-hah! I did it, boss! I did it! I saved the-" Beiderman began to shout.
Then, a spark was seen and heard between the two halves of the grenade, and all laughter stopped in lieu of shocked expressions and silence.
And Beiderman realizes his fate all too soon.
"...Oops." Beiderman said.
'Boom' goes the grenade.
Beiderman is dead.
The explosion detonated the tub of crude oil with it, starting a chain reaction towards the other ones on the lower deck. Running up to the restrained Thornberrys, meeting with Eliza, the football head handed her a knife, pulling out one of his own to free the rest of the family.
Working through the intense heat that began flooding the room, as well as the deafening explosions, the only positive is that neither have to fear the reponse of Kip or his gunmen, who began running out of the lower deck in a desperate and panicked attempt to find safety.
Soon, all the Thornberrys are free, and can make their own escape off the ship, and they do so without haste, running for the exit. Eliza, the most foolhardy of the family, stopped for a small moment to look back at the football head, seeing his glowing green eyes look back at her in a blank expression.
There is much curiosity in her mind, driving her to ask many questions, but she forces herself not to, running for safety, and hoping she meets him again.
Preparing to make his own escape, the football head casually began making his way off the ship, only to be stopped by a voice.
"Help! Help me, please!" Kip screamed.
Hearing the voice of Kip O'Donnel scream his plea for help, the football head turned to the now-destroyed edge of the bridge, walking over to it. Looking over the edge of the bridge, he saw below him Kip hanging off the railing of the bridge, and below him a hole blown straight through the ship, leading into the river below.
And in the river below, there could be seen several crocodiles swimming by, hungrily looking up at the morsel dangling their way.
"Help me! Please! Help me!" Kip screamed.
Many deaths have happened due to his presence on this ship, but he cannot be called directly responsible for their demises. This is a yet another situation where he can make a difference in life or death, but, through the life he has lived, he feels the unwillingness to help a man as heinous as Kip.
Nonetheless, the situation is enough to guilt him enough into acting... but his action is a farcical one, carelessly holding up his hand out of Kip's reach.
"Here. Take my hand." The football head said.
"What are you, crazy? I can't reach that! Bring your hand lower!" Kip shouted.
"Take my hand. You're not reaching for it."
"I can't reach up there, you son of a bitch! Help me!"
"Why should I help someone who won't help himself and just asks to be helped?"
The meaning behind the football head's cruel gesture became clear to Kip, and the realization of his imminent demise also gave him a moment of self-reflection that came all too late in his life to make any difference. His heart began to sink, as if his will to live had diminished and made gravity pull on him harder.
His grip slipping off the edge, Kip began falling to the river below, screaming all the way down.
A splash was made with his impact, made with enough of a distance to kill a weaker man, but Kip survived his fall to swim back up above the water. Gasping for air, he looked around to see crocodiles start to surround him, all snarling with eyes locked on him, more than ready to feast.
Opening their jaws, they began, all of which was witnessed by the football head.
Within the first bite, Kip began screaming.
Within the next bite, he began choking on his own blood.
Within the third, all noise stops.
Kip O'Donnel is dead.
Turning away from the cruel and primeval death that Kip suffered, falling victim to the same lower animals he would just as soon exploit, the football head made his way off the boat, walking up to the higher deck in order to escape before the tanker would sink into the water.
Stepping to the upper deck, he once again found the Thornberrys, but saw them unable to escape. Held at gunpoint by Kip's subdordinates, the rest of the men began preparing a lifeboat to flee the ship with, holding the Thornberrys back to perish on the boat as they fled to safety.
Once again given a chance to intervene in a choice between life and death, the football head stepped forward.
Gaining the full attention of the gunmen, the football head looked back at the enemies before him with the same coldness he had shown to their now dead comrades, making them uneasy even with but one man posing a resistance to them, once again leaving their guns shaking in their hands.
Reaching for a small assortment of bags tied to his waist, the football head threw them at the gunmen, which exploded and set off large clouds of smoke.
No longer able to see their target, the gunmen began firing wildly and blindly all across the deck of the ship, hoping in vain that they would hit their enemy. This proved to be ineffective; even running into the cloud of smoke without any apparent concern or strategy, it was soon shown that he indeed have his own strategy, and the Thornberrys were present to bear witness, if only in small doses.
Through the haze of smoke, flashes of gunshots could reveal but small silhouettes of the football head and his target at that moment in time, seeing only what attack he was making against his selected enemy, and hearing the end results of his attack with the sound of a body hitting the floor.
One flash showed a punch straight to one gunman's face.
Another showed a side kick delivered to another gunman's stomach.
The next flash showed yet another gunman being hit in the chin with the football head's knee.
Those who did not fall to the encompassing cloud of smoke, or miraculously managed to escape it, all congregated around the lifeboat, continuing to hold their guns up high. Keeping their aims dead-center on the cloud of smoke, they nervously awaited the emergence of the football head, hoping that this last stand would allow them to secure their safety. The plan had sounded airtight and foolproof...
...but, seeing the football head emerge from the smoke, his eyes continuing to pierce into their souls, they began to stand frozen in fear as though they were fools.
All sense and logic would tell them to pull the triggers of their weapons, that surely this one man could not be immune to their gunfire, that surely he would not be able to dodge their bullets, that he would be dead within seconds and they would be able to safely get in the lifeboat and escape...
...but, seeing the football head walk towards them, they still were frozen in fear.
Even having the football head walk up to the gunman in front and have his handgun placed against his chest, that surely would give anyone in such a situation the urge to squeeze the trigger of their gun, put a bullet through his heart and end his life to preserve his own...
...but, seeing the football head walk still, the gunmen began to back up, attempting to reach a place of safety, regardless of whether it existed or not.
Continuing to back up from the football head, trying to keep their distance away from him by any means necessary, the gunmen soon came into contact with the edge of the boat. Being sent near the boat with the threat of being pushed off would surely at last give some nerve to fire their guns, if only as a last-ditch effort to save themselves...
...but, their eyes still met with the football head, the gunmen all fell off the edge one by one, falling into the river below.
And, through screams and tearing flesh, the crocodiles below feasted well.
With the threat of Kip's men gone and the crocodiles below well-fed, a window was wide-open for the Thornberrys to escape, and the path to their escape showed itself when the smoke dissipated, showing the football head and the downed gunmen, as well as the unoccupied lifeboat behind him ready to use.
With a small gesture of his hand ushering them to the lifeboat, the Thornberrys took to the boat, running towards it and jumping inside.
Eliza, the last of the Thornberrys in line, had a handicap stop her from escaping with the rest of her family, coming at the last second of escape. In mid-run, her ankle had twisted, sprained to the point where supporting herself on the leg was no longer feasible, and she fell to the ground with a pained scream.
Just as the Thornberrys embarked on the lifeboat, they turned back to the screaming Eliza to see her in peril, and they began to climb out just as fast.
"Eliza!" Shane yelled.
"Hold on, honey, we're coming!" Marianna called.
But just as the Thornberrys began to climb back out, the tanker began to rumble and creak, making them hesitate out of caution. The creaking grew louder and louder, paired with the sound of metal tearing, sounds which accompanied the ship itself beginning to slant and tilt back.
The hole made at the bottom of the ship had torn all the way through the ship, cutting it in half. The two halves, both taking on water, began sinking into the river.
The half that the Thornberrys and the football head had occupied had began to lean back, with Eliza and the beaten gunmen laying across it starting to slide back. As the tilt of the sinking ship gained a sharper angle by the second, those still laying on the floor began sliding back, preparing to land in the river below.
This included Eliza, who began sliding away, unable to climb back up.
"Help! I'm falling!" Eliza called.
"Eliza, honey, hold on!" Marianne screamed.
Before Marianne or the rest of the Thornberrys could disembark, however, the cables supporting the lifeboat snapped, sending it falling into the river below. Despite the rough landing tossing about the Thornberrys, feeling battered from the fall, the ship carried the buoyancy to float, keeping them safe from the sinking ship.
Nonetheless, they did not let the rough landing stop them, and immediately began moving the boat towards the middle of the ship.
"Go back to the middle of the ship! We have to get Eliza!" Shane shouted.
"I got it, give me an oar!" Tyler shouted.
"I got the other!" Donnie shouted.
While the rest of the Thornberrys went after Eliza, the football head, clinging to a wall for safety, watched her slide down the ship, calling for help as she fell. Releasing his grip on the door, the football head laid down on the floor, allowing himself to slide down the angle to reach Eliza.
Sliding past the last of the shipmates, the football head watched them scream as they gained consciousness, all desperately calling for help as they plummetted towards their doom. He can feel their basic instinct for survival, mindlessly calling for any forces of mercy to save them...
...but he feels in them no remorse or guilt for their actions, and therefore ignores them.
His target is the one with the only worthy soul, and he reached her with great speed and haste, grabbing her hand just before she could fall off the half-boat. As soon as her fall ceased, as did Eliza's screams, looking back up to see her football-headed savior holding onto a platform to keep them safe.
The rest of the boat's crew, however, is not so lucky. Slipping past them as they fell, each and every one fell off the boat, making a steep descent into the river below. The majority survive the affair, attempting to swim to safety, forced to dodge fire and objects falling from the boat.
They all meet with the crocodiles yet again, and their lives end with bloodcurdling screams and gurgles.
The football head and Eliza both know that to drop down would mean a similar end, and to merely hold on would mean the same once the boat fully sunk. Looking past the bottom below, the football head noticed the river past the boat was free of crocodiles, with the vicious reptiles currently occupied with the shipmates, and the incoming lifeboat with the rest of the Thornberrys.
It is here where he thinks of his plan.
"Swing." The football head said.
"What?" Eliza asked.
"Swing for the lifeboat. We'll go around the crocodiles."
Any other individual would respond with the overt cliche of asking 'Are you crazy?', but Eliza Thornberry is a seasoned adventurer herself, and has gotten through worse situations with more risky ideas, some of which incidentally also involved hungry, man-eating crocodiles.
Moving herself back and forth, she built up the energy to a swing.
"Hold onto me!" Eliza shouted.
Moving back and forth with what little space she had, her momentum built up to a larger swing being made with each movement, slowly building up the force to get them to their safe landing. Her swing made the football head's task of holding onto their platform a challenging one, but he persisted in spite of this difficulty, allowing Eliza to build up the needed swing.
Soon, the swing becomes large enough to get them over the edge, and it also makes the football head break his hold.
Together they fell to the water below, flying past the crocodiles, and, with the football head holding her for protection, they both plunged into the river. With their weight combined, their plunge into the river is deeper than that of a regular swimmer, making their next challenge being to get back up to the surface to get air.
A quick swim allows them to reach near the surface again in no time, but a shadow looming over them prompted the football head to move them both away, dodging out of the way of a falling piece of metal. Evading the scrap metal just in time, the two began swimming not higher, but further, ensuring that they would not be stricken by any falling debris on the way out of the pandemonium above.
However, the trip becomes far too much of a challenge for Eliza's lungs, and she began to struggle to hold her breath, grunting and groaning in pain and effort not to breathe in the water. Noticing her struggle, the football head took her by the head and put his lips to hers, letting out a deep exhale to allow fresh air into her lungs.
It is mostly carbon dioxide that Eliza receives than oxygen, but it is just enough to make her struggles stop, giving her the strength to carry on. She knows that the gesture of the football head must have taken away most of his own air, but he carried on as though he lost none.
This is but one aspect about the football head that makes him ingrained in her mind, and, were she not married, perhaps having his lips to hers would mean more.
-
Above the water, the lifeboat continued to search for Eliza, circling around the wreckage of the now mostly-sunken ship for a sign of the remaining Thornberry. The waters around them are stained red with the blood of eaten poachers, leaving room for fear that Eliza may have been among them, but neither are there any signs of her, leaving just enough hope to continue searching.
And none are willing to give it up, least of all the Thornberry parents and the Thornberry by marriage, who value Eliza the most.
"Find anything yet?" Shane asked.
"Nothing yet, bro. Just a shitload of dead poachers. Well... just the parts the crocs didn't like, anyway." Tyler said.
"Ever wonder why I'm a vegetarian?" Donnie asked.
"Nothing to lose your appetite over, ol' Donnie-boy. That's the circle of life." Nigel cracked.
"Nigel, these were human beings." Marianne scorned.
"Oh, er... Right, it seems. You spend so much time with animals, you forget you're a member of the human species. It's easy to forget that we're not really at the top of the food chain, you know. Gotta look out for each other and all. But, yes, it would've been better had these lads just gone to jail."
"Will you all shut up?! We gotta find Eliza! We don't have time for jokes!" Shane snapped.
"Calm down, Shane. We're trying our best, and we're not leaving here until we see her." Marianne assured.
Then, by nothing short of a miracle, Eliza popped her head up out of the water, gasping and coughing after she emerged.
"ELIZA!" The Thornberrys shouted.
Reaching their hands over the lifeboat, the family provided her with more than enough support to climb aboard, which she did so with what little strength she still had. Tumbling over and laying in the lifeboat, Shane immediately held her up, keeping her head elevated to breathe properly.
"Eliza? Babe, you okay?" Shane asked.
"I'm... I'm fine." Eliza coughed.
"Well, next time, let's skip the sidetracks, okay?"
The family all shared a laugh at the chaos finally coming to an end, but Eliza soon shot back up, leaning over the lifeboat in search of the football head.
"Where is he, where is he?" Eliza shouted.
"Where's who?" Donnie asked.
"The guy, the... I don't know, the guy who saved us! He was with me, he was..."
Eliza's words trailed off as she looked out into the river, finding no signs of the football head, but instead a serene body of water that shows no signs of life.
"He's gone." Eliza said.
"Well, that's okay, we'll just send him a thank-you card after we get back to the Comvee. Right now, I just wanna get to land." Tyler said.
"On that, I think we're all in agreement." Marianne said.
Without bidding even a proper goodbye to the football head, the lifeboat made its way to shore, landing on a small marsh. Having no more need of the lifeboat, the Thornberrys disembarked from the ship and touched land yet again, walking to dryer land to make their way back to their mobile home, with Marianne leading the way with a GPS tracker.
"Alright, now we just follow the GPS to get back to the Comvee. I just hope those poachers didn't ransack anything while we were gone." Marianne said.
"You said it. If they touched my Cheese Munchies, they're gonna be thankful they had the crocs to deal with." Tyler joked.
Even with the threat of the poachers gone and the Thornberrys all brought to shore, trouble continued as Nigel grasped at his chest, groaning with gasping breaths as he leaned against a tree for support. Taking notice of his uneasy condition, Marianne took her eyes off the GPS tracker to come to her husband's aid.
"Nigel? Are you alright?" Marianne asked.
"I'm alright, dearest... That little boat adventure of ours took a wee bit of a toll on my ol' ticker, I just... Oh, dear..." Nigel gasped.
Losing his ability to stand up, Nigel collapsed to the ground, continuing to wheeze for breath. With several gasps made from the Thornberry family, all members of it circled around the father, coming to his assistance as he suffered through his painful heart attack, trying to fan him to cool off.
"Hold on, honey, I've got your nitroglycerin right-" Marianne began to say.
Reaching into her pocket, Marianne felt it was empty, finding no sign of her husband's heart pills, bringing a look of despair to her face.
"What? What are you waiting for? Give him the pills!" Shane shouted.
"I don't have them." Marianne said.
"What?! What happened?!" Eliza shouted.
"I must've lost them somewhere on the boat. There should be spares in the Comvee, we'll need to run and get them, it's about..."
Checking the GPS locator, Marianne found that the Comvee was nearly a mile away from their current position, making it impossible to get the pills on time.
"Oh, no." Marianne gasped.
"What do you mean, 'oh no'? We gotta go and get the pills, right?" Donnie asked.
"It's too far away. We'll never get them to Nigel in time."
Nigel reached a gentle hand to Marianne's, calming down his wife in their moment of despair and defeat.
"Oh, don't worry about me, dearie. I had always imagined myself dying somehow like this: Out in the wild, and with my beautiful family. I can't think of a better way to go." Nigel groaned.
"Then it pleases me to give you the added time to imagine a better way." A voice said.
Before there is time for tears over the Thornberry father, the Thornberry family all looked up to see an elderly Hispanic man with glowing green eyes, with many other tribal men around him, all also sporting glowing green eyes. Their concern over Nigel turns to defensiveness as they surrounded him, with Marianne taking the lead.
"Who are you people? What do you want?" Marianne asked.
"It is quite simple, Mrs. Thornberry. We have seen your struggle, and we are here to help." The man said.
"Wh-What...? How did-?"
"Your husband's time is short, Mrs. Thornberry. If you please, let me help him."
Unsure of what to make of the strange tribal man, Marianne, for lack of a better option, began stepping away, urging the rest of the Thornberrys to follow her back.
"Ease yourself, Nigel Thornberry. San Lorenzo will not let you die." The man said.
The tribal man opened Nigel's shirt, exposing his chest. Taking a knife, the tribal man began cutting into his own hand, drawing blood from his palm. Placing his bloody palm over Nigel's heart, he placed his other hand atop it, closing his eyes and making ambient noises with his throat, keeping himself in a state of deep concentration.
The Thornberrys know not what they witness, but they watch in intrigue, with great hope that it will help the father of their family.
After all the stress put upon Nigel Thornberry over the years, his heart had grown weak, beating erratically and requiring medication to be corrected. Forcing himself to continue his career has not helped his situation, but the medicine he has taken has allowed him an ease through the hardships of old age.
Without his medication now, the years begin to catch up with his heart, and it slowly begins to fail him.
But with this different, mystical medicine, his heart began slowing down, beating at the correct pace on its own, and with the vitality of a young man's heart. Feeling his body start to receive the proper flow of blood once again, Nigel's eyes opened in rejuvenation, gasping for air in delight as he stood up.
Seeing her husband rise again, as impossible as it may have seemed to be, Marianne rushed to his side.
"Nigel! Are you alright?" Marianne asked.
"Alright? Marianne, I feel absolutely smashing! I haven't felt this good in ages! Eh-hah-hah!" Nigel cheered.
Getting up from the ground, Nigel enthusiastically began running for no other reason than pure excitement, only to be stopped by Marianne.
"Nigel, be careful! Remember your heart!" Marianne said.
"Oh, dearie, you don't understand. My heart's just like it was when I was a lad again. This fellow here, he... I... I don't know what he did, but he's made my ticker all better." Nigel said.
Silent wonder reigns through the Thornberrys, but Eliza, as always, is the one to step forward, approaching the tribal man with questions.
"Eliza Thornberry. You have seen much throughout the world. Even people like me. It is my very good honor to meet you." The man said.
"Who are you? All of you?" Eliza asked.
"My name is Luz. The answer to your next question, I believe you already know. You're the one who decided to go looking for us. You're the adventurous one, after all."
As the rest of Luz's accomplices neared him, they looked back on the Thornberrys with friendly expressions, extending their welcomes to the family.
"You're the Green-Eyed People." Eliza said.
-
Hours pass as the Thornberrys get themselves acquainted with the Green-Eyed People, being brought to their lost city and getting to know their culture more closely. He carries more interest in animals than he does in humans, but Nigel Thornberry also holds a deep respect for other cultures, and he cannot deny that he is excited to be in a world totally closed off from the rest of the planet.
Much time he has spent asking questions and exploring the lost city of the Green Eyes, and his family takes just as much interest and excitement in the city as him, if not more so. However, their interest is not only out of human curiosity, but also out of excitement to do what they do best:
Film an episode to document what they see.
"Here on Nigel Thornberry's Wild World, we primarily keep our focus on wildlife, exploring the animal kingdom and all its members, but we often forget that we Homo Sapiens are a part of the animal kingdom, and we deserve exploration. From our humble roots in the trees as we descended from Homo Erectus and Homo Neanderthalensis, we have become the dominant species of our planet, creating societies and civilizations that change throughout the ages. Today, we look at a tribe of Homo Sapiens that have, much like the San tribe in the Kalahari Desert of Africa, lived outside of industrial civilization for several years." Nigel narrated.
The camera feed on Nigel Thornberry began showing off the city of the Green-Eyed People, displaying the architecture of their city and the people living in it. The Green-Eyed People, as instructed by the Thornberrys, pay no mind to the camera, acting normally as possible to allow a more authentic documentation.
"The Green-Eyed People, or, Maako'ob ya'ax yicho'ob, are an offshoot of the ancient Mayans. Having split from the collapse of the Mayan region during its political collapse in the 9th century,the Green-Eyed People eschewed war with other tribes or human sacrifice to embrace a more pacifistic approach to life, making themselves one with the land. Their name comes from the distinctive bright green eyes that their people possess, which is noted to be an impossibility in Hispanic linage. Occam's Razor would simply conclude this to be a mutation that persisted in their people that bred its way to the gene's survival, but those more esoterically-inclined minds might believe it to be a sign of the supernatural, that their people carry great significance. A man of science myself, I cannot attest to these accusations, but what I can attest to is that, not too long ago today, I had suffered a heart attack brought about by my age, and these people were able to heal me by means beyond my understanding. Regardless of the explanation, I am happy to be alive today, and more than proud to document this lost tribe for the world to see." Nigel narrated.
[Soundtrack Cue: Incubus - Take Me To Your Leader (Fungus Amongus Version)]
Author's Note: The next portion of this chapter uses lyrics from the aforementioned song: 'Take Me To Your Leader' from the album 'Fungus Amongus' by Incubus. The songwriting credits belong to Brandon Boyd, Mike Einziger, Alex Katunich, Gavin Koppell, and Jose Pasillas, and the distribution rights belong to Sony Music Corporation through its ownership of Epic Records. No copyright infringement is intended.
Just as Nigel finished his emphasis on this tribe of people being cut off from the rest of modern civilization, a taste of said modern civilization was heard in the air in the form of distorted guitars, accompanied by drums. The camera feed turned to the three males in the Thornberry family, Shane, Donnie, and Tyler, playing as a band together.
Across the band's drumset displayed their name: 'The Boys-N-Berries'.
Shane took to the vocals and guitar, Donnie on a hybrid bass and 6-string guitar, and Tyler on drums, all playing experimental funk metal that carried a twinge of tribal influence, inspired by their time in the jungle and current experience with the Green-Eyed People. The music played loud enough to drown out any other signs of life in the city...
"What if your brain,
Unexpectedly and suddenly,
Picked out things to,
Flip around and view a lot differently,
What if blue sky,
All of a sudden turned a purple hue,
We would shit a,
Brick the size of all of it,
What if?" Shane sung.
...but life was more than shown with the Green-Eyed People congregating by the band, all cheering for the music and dancing along. Continuing to interact with the Green-Eyed People, Eliza is among those dancing to the music, supporting her husband and family members playing for the people.
And Nigel's commentary on nature continues, with a point to be made even here.
"As you can see behind me, there still is one universal language that resonates with all humankind: Music. Now that my little heart condition has cleared itself up, my son, nephew, and son-in-law have wasted no time starting their careers as the Boys-N-Berries, making their debut here in the jungles of San Lorenzo in the city of the Green-Eyed People!" Nigel cheered.
"What if I was I was just dreaming,
What if I lived in a pear,
What if my watch read 4:20 every hour, every day,
You can bet your dollar I'd be happy!" Shane sang.
True to his energetic antics, Donnie leapt off the stage for the band and jumped into the crowd, enacting a crowd-surf into the middle of the crowd, continuing to play along the way. Being carried towards the center of the crowd, Donnie yet still played his bass guitar, jumping up and down with the beat and getting more cheers from his newfound fans, yelling nonsense gibberish all the while just as he did as a youth.
"I forgot to remember,
I forgot to remember my pain,
Take me to your leader,
Or die by the fly guy!" Shane sang.
Moving through the crowd, he ran up to his adopted father, grabbing Nigel Thornberry by the arm.
"Yagabodigity-yagabodigity-yagabodigity! C'mon, daddy-o, I wanna see you up here in the pit! Whoo!" Donnie yelled.
Yanking Nigel along, forcing the camera-weilding Marianne to follow him, the two Thornberrys met up with Eliza in the crowd, with Donnie alongside them.
"C'mon, dad! Get in the mood of the crowd!" Eliza called.
Taking his daughter's cue, Nigel began to dance along to the music with his two children, taking Marianne by the hand to join him.
"Oh, no, no, no, Nigel, not me-" Marianne protested.
"Oh, come on, Marianne! Loosen up a bit for the children, why don't you? It's all in the name of anthropology!" Nigel called.
Freed from his heart troubles, Nigel found no difficulty in dancing along. Though initlally cautious of both her husband and her own sense of professionalism, Marianne soon fully joined in as well, dancing along to the music more liberally, with only a tight hold on the camera holding her back.
"What if I was I was just dreaming,
What if I lived in a pear,
What if I had a mustard-drenched cucumber tied to my leg,
And I did not want my pants to get dirt-
-y, What if this,
What if that, go!" Shane sang.
Nigel took advantage of his newly-healed heart to dance in ways he could no longer do in his old age, finding less than no difficulty doing so now. His reaction to the music is to breakdance, gaining many cheers from the Green-Eyed People, and even spinning on his head, gaining even more cheers.
"I forgot to remember,
I forgot to remember my pain,
Take me to your leader,
Or die by the fly guy!" Shane sang.
He ended by looking back to the camera feed to deliver his final words, letting out his signature laugh as he did.
"Ngh-heh-heh-heh! Now, this is what I call a 'Wild World', indeed! We'll be back next time, here on BBC Earth, with another episode of 'Nigel Thornberry's Wild World'!" Nigel cheered.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
-
The camera feed ended as its playback was paused on the small TV screen it played on, stopping on a rather unflattering image of Nigel Thornberry's face. Sitting at the table holding the portable television, Nigel Thornberry in his current state held a worried face, with Eliza doing the same as she sat beside him.
Across from them sat a man named Dib Membrane, who paused the video to discuss its contents.
"Cute. I'm not one for funk metal, or... whatever it is that your kids play, but you all seemed like you had a good time. Not exactly what I would call educational material, though." Dib said.
"Listen. I don't know who you are or what you people want, but you can't do this to us. We're nature documentarians, for god's sakes. We haven't done anything to you." Nigel said.
"It's not a matter of that, Mr. Thornberry. I'm well aware of what you do for a living. It's the location of the city of the Green-Eyed People that I'm looking for."
"I'm not under any obligation to disclose that."
"Yeah, I kind of think you do have one. Or maybe you just need a little reminder provided to you."
"Who are you? Who do you work for? What's the meaning of all this?"
"My name is Dib Membrane. You might be more familiar with my father, Professor Membrane. Head of Membrane Labs, under Lloyd Enterprises."
"Lloyd Enterprises? As in, Buckley Lloyd, that venture capitalist? Is it him that wants that region? Are you people trying to exploit that region? Do you have any idea about the people who live there, the animals that have their own home, what kind of damage you'll-"
"Mr. Thornberry."
Dib's stern voice silenced Nigel's defensiveness, allowing him the chance to speak once again.
"Mr. Thornberry, I'm really not interested in San Lorenzo or a bunch of tree-dwellers descended from the Mayans. But I need to get there because I'm looking for someone." Dib said.
"Who?" Nigel asked.
Dib passed a photograph towards Nigel and Eliza, who both looked at it. The image on it was that of a boy in the city of Hillwood, having a distinctive football-shaped head and blonde hair, taken during his younger years as a student at P.S. 118, months before his first departure from the city.
Despite the younger photograph of the individual, both Eliza and Nigel recognized him, with the former gasping out in realization.
"It's him." Eliza said.
Concerned for the safety of his daughter, Nigel nonverbally urged her to stay silent, but failed to spare her the interest of Dib Membrane.
"You saw this man?" Dib asked.
Unable to deny the questions asked of them, Nigel answered on Eliza's behalf, remaining protective of his daughter.
"He... I don't know anything about him. I just know he saved our lives, including my daughters. We ran into some old enemies of ours, and he freed us. He dressed like the Green-Eyed People, but I hadn't seen him with them during our time in the city. He's probably not there." Nigel said.
"I'll be the judge of that. All I need for you is to tell me where this place is and I can find him myself." Dib said.
"And should I refuse?"
Dib reached into a file on the desk and pulled out two more photographs, placing them on the table and showing them to be a man and a woman. The sight of the two made Eliza gasp yet again, but her reaction here was made in nervousness, recognizing these two personally and what threat they pose to her.
"I understand your daughter had some trouble with some poachers in Nairobi about 20 years ago. A mom-and-pop operation run by a Sloan and Bree Blackburn, the Mickey and Mallory Knox of the poaching community. Snatched up a cute little cheetah cub in the Kenyan desert, and, your brave little daughter, just 12 years old, escaped a boarding school and flew all the way back just so she could catch them and save the little cub, and, against all odds, did it. Right as they were planning one of the worst mass slaughters of elephants in recorded history, no less." Dib said.
Dib quickly extended a hand towards Eliza, making her jump, but showed it was merely a thumbs-up gesture.
"Good on you, girl. That definitely had to look good when you applied for college. But, uh, there was something really, really interesting about that whole affair. Sloan and Bree, after they were apprehended by the Kenyan authorities, had been asked about Eliza Thornberry, and they went off about how they would've gotten away with it, if it wasn't for that meddling kid and her dumb chimp. Interestingly, they, uh, shared this one strange detail which happened to land them in insane asylums rather than plain ol' prison. They had held the elder daughter, a Debbie Thornberry, over a cliff and demanded to know how this little girl knew all about their operations, but, of all the things she could've answered with, she said it was because she could... talk to animals." Dib said.
Eliza's breath began to intensify under Dib's monologue, knowing her secret was far beyond saving any longer.
"Now, nobody might've thought anything of that, or might've thought it was some lie for their insanity plea, but... the funny thing is, they also reported seeing a massive storm and something that looked like the northern lights... in the middle of Africa. But what's really interesting as well, is that this story also co-responded with some other small reports in the area, mainly by some U.N. workers and Greenpeace members a few miles away. Most people might've just brushed something like that off as a weird freak of nature, but... in this day and age, I think we're beyond just dismissing strange things as just stories from crazy people, aren't we?" Dib asked.
Nigel looked to Dib in astoundment, looking to Eliza after, who held her head down in shame.
"Eliza...?" Nigel asked.
Eliza did not reply, attempting to hold onto her secret as long as possible until the end.
"Eliza, poppet, is this true?" Nigel asked.
Finally, Eliza spoke up, meekly letting out...
"I can't tell you. If I do, I lose my powers. That's what happened last time." Eliza whimpered.
"But... But, of course, that explains so much! You and Darwin having your own conversations, him understanding human behavior all the better, all the times you-" Nigel began to say.
Remembering his situation with Dib, Nigel held his daughter close, giving her his acceptance while offering his protection at the same time.
"Listen to me. I don't know what it is you want, but you leave my daughter out of this. You're not going to lay a hand on her." Nigel threatened.
"I never said I would. However, I would like to comment: You and your family hold dual citizenship with both the U.S. and the U.K., don't you?" Dib asked.
"Yes...?"
"Well, we've got plenty of our own superheroes in the U.S., but you'll notice Britain doesn't have that same condition. In fact, Europe in general has been cracking down on genetic and superhuman experiments far more, keeping it strictly under government control. Now, if word were to get out that Eliza Thornberry just so happens to be a superhero herself, who's to say that the U.K. wouldn't like to get their hands on her? Or, better yet, how about MI-6 trying to put that into use? Talking to animals might not seem like that big a superpower, but just imagine what kind of applications that could have. She could convince a bunch of bears or crocodiles to go eat an enemy army. She could make a flock of seagulls shit on an enemy satellite and block their radar. She could send a swarm of wasps to sting an entire civilian population. Aquaman may have had the lamest power, but even the so-called 'lamest' powers can have the very practical applications. Of course, they might have to do a total brain removal in order to get it."
Eliza gasped and shuddered at the threat given, clinging to her father, who held her right back.
"Now, I'm not gonna ask you again. Where can I find this man?" Dib asked.
Forced to have his ethics as a naturalist challenged, Nigel paused before answering in heavy breaths, finally giving an answer with a cold face.
"I won't tell you where this place is. But I'll take you there myself. As soon as you find who you want, we leave, with or without him." Nigel said.
"Without him?" Dib asked.
"This doesn't seem like the type of fellow who'd be willing to follow you. Especially not considering what tactics you use."
"You let me worry about that."
"I just want to know one thing. Who is he? Why do you want him?"
Dib smiled before giving his response, as if cheerfully expecting it.
"His name is Arnold Shortman. He's going to help me save the world." Dib said.
Chapter 10: Chapter 8: Invaders From Irk, Part 1
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 8: INVADERS FROM IRK, PART 1
The home of Arnold Shortman is the jungle.
Born in the lush, green jungles of San Lorenzo, he was raised in the hostile concrete jungle of Hillwood as a boy, returning to the land of his birth during his teenage years, and returning to Hillwood once again as a young man. Regardless of what sort of jungle, as long as it flows with chaotic, noisy life and all its energy, Arnold is at right home and most comfortable.
As of now, he swings through the trees, like a modern-day Tarzan, taking to the air and the green, soaking his nostrils with the fresh air and smell of chlorophyll. The sounds of life around him, accompanied by the sights and smells of natural life, putting peaceful things in his mind to put it at ease.
For it dwells on regrets and anger, just as it has done for many months.
[Soundtrack Cue: Sevendust - Disgrace (Southside Double-Wide: Acoustic Live Version)]
What do you think of when you hear the word 'hero'?
Do you think of the simple four-colored man in tights and a cape, fighting the exaggeratedly evil villains planning world domination with fantastic weapons of mass destruction? Flying off into the sunset in search of another dastardly deviant to fight, having saved the day and off to save another?
This may seem like the archetype that many envision when they hear the word, but the reality is much simpler.
The real meaning of a hero is one who makes the right decision at the right time. Sometimes their decision may come at their own personal cost, or perhaps at the cost of another's, forced to make a decision that does not make everyone happy. Nonetheless, the hero stays by their conviction, adhering to what they know is right and fair.
For much of his life, this definition fit the young man named Arnold Shortman.
Growing up on the mean streets of Hillwood, he was the boy who always looked on the bright side, trying to see the positive in everything and make life better for everyone else around him. When he left this city and deprived it of his goodness, he doubled his efforts to heal the city, once again trying to make it a better place for everyone.
A Steven Spielberg idea... in a Martin Scorsese world.
But what he never counted on was his beliefs being pushed to their absolute limit.
During his youth, his challenges consisted of simple decisions of right and wrong, the most dramatic of which freeing an old turtle from an aquarium and inspiring another to run for office, and the smallest of which being an act of kindness for a friend, the latter of which he did often.
Even with his years in San Lorenzo being trained by Luz and the Green-Eyed People, he was not prepared for the worst of humanity thrown at him all at once, and slowly had it started to break down his sense of self, turning his once peaceful and kind nature to violence and rage, just like the rest of the world around him.
It is a heavy burden that lays on his heart, but none of it weighs so heavily as the one and only death he has directly caused:
Thaddeus 'Curly' Gammelthorpe, infamously known as 'The Freak'.
The exact ideological opposite of Arnold in every way, the Freak was dedicated to ending the good nature of the Green Eye, and, by extention, Arnold Shortman, all to make the point that no one human being is perfect and incorruptible by forcing the hero to kill him. Even with his methods towards achieving what he perceived as peace being taken to its greatest extremes, Arnold Shortman never gave the Freak what he desired...
...until the very end. When given a taste of Arnold's life and having a paradigm shift giving him a taste for good, the guilt of his actions led the Freak to die, living a life as Curly for just a few moments to know humanity. Dead at last, even after the drive for his mission was gone, the Freak had won.
And Arnold Shortman had nothing to show for his efforts but thousands of deaths, and the destruction of Hillwood.
The guilt gives him a greater connection to the Earth's pull of gravity, as if the world itself was calling for him to come home and take his place in the dirt. It makes the task of swinging through the trees much more challenging than it need be, for someone as trained as him should have no such troubles.
However, Arnold gives in to the feel of gravity, letting himself fall.
He knows that to come into contact with the ground will not kill him, though it could more than easily kill any normal man. Given the powers of a Spirit Master, he can more than easily survive the fall, and heal from whatever injuries he receives from the impact with the ground.
But he allows himself to fall anyway, using it as a self-imposed form of punishment for himself. He regrets the many mistakes he has made, pondering the lives that could still be present had he acted differently, if only he knew that any action he took would lead to the inevitable death of Curly.
He had been told that to kill him would be the only solution, and he repeatedly denied this claim, doing whatever he could to save as many lives as he could. None had lived in the wake of the Freak, and what success Arnold had in trying to prove a point was made for only a few seconds, a victory more Pyrrhic than even the Pyrrhic war itself, or at least so it felt to Arnold Shortman.
For what he mourns more than everything is not even the deaths, but the life of those who still lives:
Helga Pataki.
Engaged to marry the woman who loved him since they were but children, he did his best to become a positive influence on her, attempting to heal what damage was dealt upon her from the years of neglect that she suffered from her parents. He had made much progress on his attempts to make her whole again...
...but, in failing to save the worst of humanity itself, and struggling in his relationship with Helga all the while, he no longer felt worthy of her.
To be the person to heal her heart, to make her a happy woman again, to take away her anger; these are the dreams that Arnold Shortman had when he would become the husband of Helga Pataki. He had his doubts about his ability to set the world right in the past, but always had he managed to overcome his doubts, and snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.
But not anymore.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
A release of death is once again denied to Arnold Shortman as he grabbed a vine, his tight grip on the vine making his descent slow to a stop, keeping himself just an inch away from the ground. He has ridden the edge, hoping that he would find something that could make sense of his troubles or release him from them, only to have come into the normal flow of time once again in his rush.
And all that he has tried to fight back against is still with him, making him sigh in defeat.
-
His trek across the jungle leads him back to the Temple of the Spirit Master, coming back to one of the few places he can still call home. Surrounded by ancient knowledge and acquisitions of the Green Eyes and their Spirit Masters, there are some physical items to keep him comfortable, but they do not.
His walk across the room, moving past his collections and items, lead him to a bed, where he has a place to lay his head down and rest, allowing his body to recuperate from the work it carried out. He has made his best attempts to sleep for many nights, only to be kept awake with the troubles that still force him awake.
He does not take to anything in his room, choosing to simply sit on the floor in a meditative stance. Unable to sleep, unwilling to act, and with his mind overacting with guilt and emotion, the only way he can cope with his traumatized brain is to exert no more energy with it, closing his eyes and remaining deep in meditation.
It is but a small comfort, but it is a comfort that Arnold is almost thankful for.
Another presence in the Temple of the Spirit Master enters his room to try to be a better comfort for him, coming to Arnold as silent and as graceful as the wind itself. He knows that Arnold can sense his presence, so any attempt at surprise or stealth is of no use as it is unintended, leaving Arnold only to wait for him to speak.
"I have respected your decision to solitude for a long while now, child." Luz said.
"But you're not anymore." Arnold replied.
"Not now. Not until I speak my piece and know your thoughts."
"You can feel what I feel, Luz. Isn't that enough to know my thoughts?"
"It does not appear to be enough for you. You dwell on your emotions, but find no solution for what you feel. You are trapped in a battle that you yourself do not understand."
"And what exactly do you think will help, Luz?"
"A listening ear can be enough to relieve many troubles. My ears are open, Arnold, if you care to use them. But I must also open my mouth to what you have done, for it disturbs me."
"I didn't kill anyone, Luz. I warned them that what they would do would result in their deaths. They did it anyway. They only ended up killing themselves in the end."
"That is a perspective you had not previously held. The Arnold Shortman that I had known and taught for years proved even my lessons wrong, even when death seemed like the only answer to save more lives. Where was the young man who made a learned child of me?"
"I grew up."
"Then perhaps you should not try to mature yourself, but instead look through the world with the eyes of a child once again. Those young eyes were the ones that showed good towards others for nearly all of your life. Now, your eyes see only death and anger."
"Because there was nothing but anger and death in Hillwood! And I couldn't do a goddamn thing about it all! I failed, Luz! I failed everyone! Can't you just leave me alone?"
"You will listen to me, child, and you will listen now."
Luz's stern attitude silenced Arnold's sudden outburst, seceding to his authoritative manner like a child towards a parent. And like a parent, Luz walked up to Arnold, laying a gentle hand upon his head, continuing to speak softly to quell his troubles and find peace once more.
"Words cannot express the tragedy you have suffered, Arnold. You have seen the worst of humanity and stood with but a dwindling number of allies on your side. But your fight was indeed a noble one, and admirable for anyone looking with a understanding eye. Even those who would not agree with your decisions would understand your decisions, their judgements being made out of sympathy... but no one has judged your decisions more than yourself, and you do so with no sympathy. I have let you taken your time to collect yourself... but, where you let me help you once before, you refuse it now. Your self-imposed punishment does nothing to aide you, nor those lives that were lost. What's done is done. There is but only forward to go." Luz said.
Trembling under Luz's calming touch, tears welled up in Arnold's green eyes, feeling his heart melt with his teacher's sympathy.
"I can't do it, Luz. I can't do it anymore. Everything I did, I did it to try to make lives better. But all I've done is make things worse. If it wasn't for me, Curly wouldn't have had the power to do what he did. Maybe I should've stayed here in San Lorenzo. Maybe I should've never come here. Maybe... I should've jumped off the roof when you told me not to. I could've stopped it all." Arnold cried.
"But you did not. You are here and alive. And your works do far more good than they do harm. Most of all, what happened to Curly does not belong on your conscience. Sometimes, there are bigger games at play that you have no say in, and you are but a player. You played your part. You did what you knew to be right." Luz said.
Luz urged Arnold to stand up, leading him to the center of the room. He held his hands up in a fighting stance, holding one forward for Arnold to approach.
"You meditate with anger. Anger must not be merely sat upon. It only festers and builds. It must be released. With me. Now." Luz said.
Reluctantly following Luz's lead, Arnold stood up and held a similar stance to Luz, putting the back of his extended hand to Luz's. Remaining silent, the two stared one another down, keeping their focus directly on their training and each other, preparing for their exercise to begin.
Pushing his arm towards Arnold, Luz made his student move his own arm with it, which Arnold returned by repeating the same motion. The back-and-forth motion of their arms continued in their flowing motion. making their exercise something more akin to a dance rather than a fighting technique, but it is a display of martial arts skill nonetheless.
Luz's motions are smooth and flowing, but Arnold's are forceful and rash, visually demonstrating the difference in not only each other's approaches to martial arts, but the expressions also showed how their personalities differed; once, they were like-minded people, with Arnold carrying even perhaps a greater craving of peace and love than his teacher, who reinstalled this desire in him at a low time in his life...
...but, with his experiences in Hillwood, anger is all that exists in his mind, and anger is all he can express.
"Your movements are forceful and aggressive. You must act with accordance what you confront, not against it." Luz said.
The lesson seemed not to land in Arnold's mind, as he continued his forceful movements without caution or care. There seemed to be some greater coordination, as if he was attempting to try what Luz had instructed, but, with his focus in anger, it paid no dividends in his training.
"You are not letting out your anger, Arnold. You are merely stoking its flames. Surrender to the flow." Luz said.
"I can't surrender, Luz. You know that. I never have." Arnold replied.
"That is your flaw. You act as though you are the immovable object, but to be immobile is not a gain. To be immobile is to be old, to be dead, to be unlearning. To be mobile, to be young, to be learning, is how one goes through life."
"I've learned enough. I learned that the world doesn't make sense unless you force it to."
"You learned this because your time in Hillwood has taught you this. It has taught you how to be someone you are not."
"Maybe I was always like this and I never knew it until now."
"The person you are now drove away the woman you love."
Luz's statement made Arnold's movements even more aggressive now, with his anger stoked even greater.
"Don't go there, Luz." Arnold warned.
"Your decision to help only one man had cost you the lives of many, including your friends. What's done is done, but you did so with your own beliefs and convictions. Helga you drove away for nothing. You had nothing to gain from what you did. It did not bring back any lives. It did not make you any happier. All you had done was punish yourself, and punish an innocent woman whose only sin was loving you." Luz continued.
"I said STOP!"
Moving his hand toward Luz once more, he made contact with his chest, pushing him back.
[Soundtrack Cue: Linkin Park - Don't Stay]
Raising his hands up once more, Arnold's fighting stance now came with a pair of fists, along with enraged eyes looking straight upon Luz. Fully aware of his student's incoming attack, Luz kept his hands up as well, but kept his hands open, not willing to raise fists up to Arnold.
Letting Arnold approach forward, watching his first fist come towards his face, Luz opted not to strike back, but put up a pure defense against his attacks. Arnold came forward to Luz, yelling in rage as he ran towards his teacher, turning against the man who showed him care with rage that rejected his kindness.
That kindness had not disappeared, but was instead still shown as Luz blocked away Arnold's punches, pushing them away reminiscent of tai chi. Rather than try to forcefully push away Arnold's punches, Luz merely moved himself around the punches, swimming through his attacks harmlessly.
Continuing his smooth dodges and movements away from his attacks, Luz maintained no damage and dealt none back to Arnold, instead watching as his student mercilessly tried to attack him. He knows that, in his heart of hearts, Arnold wishes no harm upon him, and, had he a clear head, would greatly regret what he does now...
...but Arnold cannot think any longer, and Luz's only thoughts is how sad he is to see his student.
Unable to land a blow with his punches, Arnold changed his attacks to use only his elbows, hoping to bash Luz by getting closer to him and making a strike harder to avoid. Alas, Luz once more proved himself to be the better fighter, even when he chooses not to fight at all.
He bashes his elbow from above, he spins to land them in a side, he lifts them up to land them in a chin or chest, but nothing Arnold does lands a hit on Luz. Still does Luz move away from his attacks before they can hit; laying his open hands on his incoming elbows, he moves with the strikes to move away from them, rather than force them away, making himself one with the physics rather than apply a counter to them.
Yet still, Arnold does not give up. Changing his attack strategy to grabs, he kept his hands open with his fingers clenched in tiger's paws, attempting to grab onto Luz. Not allowing Arnold to grab his arms, Luz kept his arms back, instead moving the rest of his body to avoid the attacks.
His arms swing far and wide to try to lay a hand on Luz, trying to grip at anything he can, but Arnold cannot reach Luz. There are but glimpses at victory he makes as his hand touches a shoulder, only to have Luz shove his grip off with his shoulder itself, and another grip on his neck, and again is he denied as Luz snapped his neck back, pushing Arnold back with his chest.
Snarling in rage, Arnold now returned to his punches, but accompanied with kicks, now making use of his whole body in attempt to strike at Luz. Once more does Luz refuse to respond with violence of his own, swaying through his punches and kicks with movements as smooth and natural as water moving around rock, an analogy undoubtedly Luz himself would make were his student listening.
However, there is a point where Luz at last makes use of force to stop Arnold. Grabbing an incoming kick, Luz pushed his leg into the air, forcing Arnold back to fall on the floor. Enraged as Arnold is, however, he does not fall to the floor, but instead reach his hands to the ground, flipping himself upright to face Luz again.
Running and jumping into the air, Arnold began throwing roundhouse kicks, spinning in the air to try to land a harder kick onto his opponent. Again does Luz return to merely dodging and ducking away from the kicks, but it is with one incoming kick that he returns to grabbing, securing one of Arnold's legs in his hands.
Walking across the ground with Arnold's leg in his hold, Luz attempted to stretch Arnold out so he would not get close enough to attack, nor continue kicking. Going limp in Luz's hold, Arnold allowed him to carry him along, waiting for the moment where he ran out of floor to walk across.
Once Luz stopped walking back, Arnold jumped up once again, throwing his other foot forward in a kick. Forced to release Arnold's restrained leg to deflect the incoming kick, Luz blocked the attack with an open palm, taking the blow and letting it force him back against the wall.
Turning to face the wall, Luz began running up it, jumping off to land in the middle of the room, able to gain sufficient space to fight Arnold. Realizing the new position of his enemy, Arnold threw an elbow and a kick, only to have both blocked away, before turning back around to his opponent.
Resorting back to punches once again, Arnold ran forward in a blitzkrieg to try to overwhelm Luz, forcing him to deflect his blows while running back at the same time. The onslaught of blows does sufficiently take away much of Luz's attention, and, attempting to buy himself some time to think, Luz grabbed one punch, keeping a tight hold on Arnold's arm.
Jumping up in the air with his arm restrained with both of Luz's hands, Arnold threw a punch with his free arm, successfully landing a punch in Luz's face.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Feeling the blow land in his face, registering the pain is not what takes Luz's full attention, but the fact that it came from his own student, who once looked to him with a reverence that never would have made room for a hand to be raised against him. It brings great disappointment in his heart...
...but, seeing Arnold rush back forward once again, Luz raised his hands up, facing his palms towards his student.
"ENOUGH!" Luz shouted.
The following force given by Luz is not anything physical, but psychic. In the very instant that Luz transmitted his thought towards his target, Arnold stopped in his tracks. He is immediately given the sense of disappointment and sorrow that Luz feels for Arnold in this moment in time, especially with the punch that he had stricken him with...
...and, in turn, Arnold feels a great shame, bringing and end to his attack.
"I'm... I'm sorry, Luz. I don't know what came over me." Arnold sighed.
"Your anger is what came over you. I have tried my best to channel your anger, Arnold, but there is still much of it in you, and you let it eat away at yourself." Luz said.
Bowing before Luz in apology, Arnold received Luz's kind hand on his shoulder, calming him down in his dire emotional state.
"Anger clouds the mind. You have known this throughout your whole life, and it has led you to make many mistakes. You have tried to heal the world's ailments since you were young. This is a trait found in others, but only in very few. But you are unique in that you shoulder these burdens by yourself. Moreso, you shoulder your own ailments. You choose to face your demons alone." Luz said.
"I am alone, Luz." Arnold sobbed.
"No. You are never alone, child. I am here. Your people are here. Your home is here. There are others here on this Earth... if you choose to let them in. You may take your time to be alone if that is what you believe you need, but, as you take your time, remember there are always others."
Luz's hand laid on Arnold's head, making him let out a sigh shuddering from his warm, calming touch.
"Remember you are never alone." Luz finished.
Arnold's cries softly let out from Luz's touch and kind words, taking a great burden off his heart. Seeing him willing to open up and become vulnerable once more, it gives greater hope for Luz that his student will find a resolution to the anger he feels, and find peace again.
For now, all Luz can give his student is but a taste of it, and hope it leads his way back to health.
-
A good deal of time passes in San Lorenzo, impacting the city of the Green-Eyed People very little. Isolated from the rest of the world, the Green Eyes have little troubles or concerns, living simple lives in their lost city, and living off the products of the jungle, achieving a healthy symbiosis with their environment.
It also makes little difference to Arnold Shortman, the honorary member of the Green-Eyed People, who also bore the name of these people to be a symbol of hope and justice for all. Just as it was since his return to San Lorenzo, he has little care or concern for himself or the rest of the world, wishing only to remain with the only people he still considers close in his life.
Though he is different than them in skin tone, he is accepted by them regardless, welcoming him as family. Like family, the Green-Eyed People are patient and sympathetic to his attitude, and give him all the time they can give him to heal, making all of his surroundings as therapeutic as possible.
To Arnold Shortman, this means very little these days.
He walks among the Green-Eyed People barely as another man, but more as a ghost. Nearly all of his concerns and joy have gone away, and he acts more like a man waiting to die rather than currently living. His eyes are seemingly always half-closed, and every word and action he takes being halfhearted. On this day, it would seem that he would continue his near lifeless existence without end...
...but, sensing other human presences in the jungle, most of them familiar ones, Arnold's eyes widened and glowed as he felt them.
Making his way to the gates of the city of the Green-Eyed People, he looked over the wall to see a familiar RV driving up, instantly recognizing it as the Thornberrys' Comvee. He wonders why he detects a foreign presence among the passengers in the Comvee, as well as why the Thornberrys have returned so soon...
...and both questions are answered instantly as Dib Membrane stepped forth from the Comvee, accompanied by Nigel Thornberry to approach the gates. Nigel makes the first contact with the Green-Eyed People to act as a diplomat, and he is given friendly greetings by the indigenous citygoers.
Soon after, the gates are opened and the Comvee is allowed to pull in, bringing the rest of the Thornberry family along inside. Following behind Nigel, Dib takes his time to observe the city of the Green-Eyed People, looking on it with an interest that bordered on pedestrian indifference and academic stoicism.
A seeker of the unknown as he is, he has one main purpose for being here, and he does not allow himself any distractions from his goal. He is fortunate enough to have Luz greet both him and Nigel Thornberry upon entering, expediting his goal by getting him one step closer to his target.
"Welcome back, Nigel Thornberry. And with you, I see, is Dib Membrane." Luz said.
"I'm familiar with what you people are capable of. If you know who I am, then you also know why I'm here. Where is he?" Dib asked.
With a single drop, Arnold fell behind the two, making his landing silent and his presence as of yet unnoticed.
"He, too, is aware of why you are here. But take heed; he is not as charitable as you once knew." Luz said.
"And I've heard your alien invasion pitch once already, and I wasn't buying it. What do you want this time?" Arnold asked.
Dib and Nigel turned around at the sound of Arnold's voice, looking back to see a young man as impatient as his tone sounded.
-
The urgency that Dib has exceeds Arnold's impatience and allows him to tell the tale of Zim and the Irken Empire, and the many fights they have had in defense of the Earth. Some stories are believable enough to those willing to believe, and some are absurd to the point that even a superman cannot fathom these tales being true.
But it is Dib's most recent event that catches Arnold's attention, and finally makes him take Dib seriously.
"The machine spoke of Zim fusing his body on the molecular level with a specimen that his defective S.I.R. unit retrieved. It came from the Skookumchuck River in Washington state, where it had been resting for some number of months in decomposition. When it was retrieved and brought back to Zim's base... it began walking on its own." Dib explained.
Dib has enough respect for Arnold to recognize the body in question, and he does quickly, looking back at Dib with an intense stare.
"Curly. This thing... found... Curly's body? And it's not dead?" Arnold asked.
"Well, yes and no. You explained how Rhonda Lloyd was previously dead, and her body was resurrected, but she only existed in a zombie-like state. The, uh, voodoo type of zombie, not the viral infection kind, big difference. Her soul hadn't returned to her body yet, and, in the case of Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, his soul was long gone and it wasn't coming back. So, it just did what it thought to do at that moment in time. And, as the Irken Armada was on its way already, Zim was able to usurp command of the empire with your enemy's powers, and he destroyed the Earth and enslaved whoever was left." Dib said.
"And you know all this because of... a robot that came from the future? That I sent to you?"
"That is correct."
"And you drove all this way here, but you didn't bring the robot with you to prove it?"
Recognizing that Arnold did not believe his story, Dib grew nervous in his attempts to convince him.
"The, uh... machine was in severe disrepair. It's basically being kept on life support in one of our labs. Bringing it would've been impossible." Dib explained.
"Forget it. I heard this idiot sales pitch before, and it's not any more amusing this time around, either. Trying to bring Curly into this to get my attention was a new low. I'd tell you to leave, but Luz is gonna say you're welcome to stay anyway. Do whatever you want." Arnold said.
Arnold walked away from the pleading Dib, heading into the Temple of the Spirit Master to leave behind the entire affair of aliens and time travel altogether. Frustrated with his apparent failure in securing Arnold's support, Dib groaned in anger, clenching his fists as he faced his loss.
"Damn it! The whole world's gonna end, Mr. Shortman! Don't you think you should do something about it?!" Dib shouted.
"Oh, yeah, try to save the world when it's ending. That worked real well for me last time, great idea." Arnold snarked.
Left with the defeating taste of sarcasm in his ears, Dib punched the Comvee in frustration, gaining a disapproving talk from Nigel Thornberry.
"Hey, now, that Comvee's a very expensive piece of equipment. Don't just go trying to break it." Nigel scorned.
"My dad'll pick up the bill for any dents, Mr. Thornberry. It doesn't matter anyway if Zim and the Irken Armada's going to blow the planet up. You know how many times I've tried to stop ZIm? What I've had to go through? Getting turned into a sausage and cleaning toilets in Hell?! Do you have any idea what that's like?" Dib ranted.
Comprehending the recounts of Dib's encounters with Zim as the delusions of a maniac, Nigel's hatred towards him became more pitiable, viewing him less as a threat and more as a genuinely unhinged individual. Nonetheless, there is still much disdain for Dib in his voice when he replies, and he does it concisely as he can.
"You are a very sad, strange little man, and to say you need mental help would be a massive understatement. But suffice to say, I have no liking for you, especially not how you threatened my daughter. I gave you what you asked for; the deal is complete. I'm going to take my family back to our job around the world, and we'll be dropping you off at the nearest airport, if you don't get on now before we leave." Nigel said.
Sighing in frustration, Dib stepped on board the Comvee, seating himself on the couch. With Marianne in the driver's seat, the rest of the family is at the dining table, and they look across at Dib with a glare, holding for him the same sort of disdain and lowliness as Nigel gave unto him.
But some are not above mocking him.
"Hey, me and the guys have been wondering: How much do clothes cost in the Matrix?" Tyler joked.
The Thornberries all snickered at the table, gaining the humiliated scowl of Dib looking back at them.
"Oh, wow, you're the 1 millionth person to make that joke." Dib said.
"Ooh, what do we win, the red pill?" Shane asked.
More mocking laughs were heard in the Comvee, some caught by Nigel as he prepared to enter. Before making his intent to leave become reality, he was stopped by Luz, allowing him a conversation with one friendly face before departing the city, and gaining one last chance to secure Arnold's cooperation.
"Nigel Thornberry." Luz called.
"Hmm? Oh, hello, friend, I'm terribly sorry we've wasted your time here. But you have to understand-" Nigel tried to explain.
"You believed your daughter to be under threat. No man who loves his children would have done any less. But rest assured, Dib's threat is an idle one. He never intended to harm you or your kin."
"Well, it's a moot point now, but thank god you said that. I was worried quite well for Eliza."
"Yes. You are a good father, and a warm and welcoming person. That is why I believe you may be the one to convince Arnold to go with you."
"Eh? You just heard the chap, he's not convinced in the slightest, and, for the most part, I'm not, either. I'm just getting used to the fact that my daughter talks to animals. Do you believe him? Er, can you... know if he's telling the truth?"
"He is. Or at least he believes to be. His mind is not well, but there is merit to his beliefs. Were his statements false, I still would implore you to speak to Arnold. Once, there was a shining passion in him to help, he was the best of man I had seen... but what he has lived through has darkened his heart. It pains me to see it as much as he is in pain. I believe he needs new cause to find what he believes to be right once again."
"I barely even know the boy. You've known him for a long time, and you say you've not gotten anywhere."
"Then perhaps you should make it your business to know, Nigel Thornberry. After all, he did save you and your family's lives. Is that alone not worth a moment of time to speak to him? A life saved, for a life saved. That is what we believe."
The point made resonated with Nigel, leading him to nod his head in agreement with Luz.
"You're right. I'll go." Nigel said.
Nigel's departure to the Temple of the Spirit Master gained the attention of Marianne at the driver's seat, stepping out and to the door to call to her husband.
"Nigel? Where are you going? We're ready to leave!" Marianne called
"Won't be but a moment, dearie! Just keep the Comvee running!" Nigel replied.
Without an answer from her husband, Marianne turned to Luz for an answer.
"Excuse me, um... Luz, was it? Where is he going?" Marianne asked.
"To help Arnold find his strength again." Luz said.
-
Making his first steps into the Temple of the Spirit Master, Nigel Thornberry is given yet another chance to explore the city of the Green-Eyed People, and this time from a place far more sacred and secretive than the very city itself, giving himself a privilege that he knows no others in his field can achieve, but also that he himself cannot share.
Were his studies made in humanities or history rather than zoology, he might have a greater appreciation for where he is, and question more of his surroundings to learn more about this culture, but his concern at the moment is not for the Green-Eyed People or their secrets.
It is for Arnold Shortman, and his willingness to fulfill a promise.
He finds the subject of his interest sitting alone in a room of the temple, guessing it to be a personal bedroom. Trying to maintain politeness, he knocked on the wall.
"Hello, er, Arnold, was it? May I come in?" Nigel asked.
Arnold gave no response to Nigel, leading him to awkardly step in the room, clearing his throat in an attempt to break the silence.
"I, uh, wanted to thank you personally. You saved my daughter's life. You saved all of our lives, and I'm extremely grateful. It was truly amazing, what you did." Nigel said.
"I'm not going with you." Arnold said.
"Pardon?"
"Luz sent you in to talk me into leaving. I'm not interested."
Nigel let out a silent, disappointed sigh, believing he had failed to fulfill his debt, but was not yet deterred from his goal.
"That's an interesting talent you and Luz have. What is it? Telepathy?" Nigel asked.
"Not exactly. That something you cover in your nature show?" Arnold asked.
"No, picked up some bits and pieces from the boys. They're big fans of 2000AD. I was always more interested in animals as a lad, save the occasional Doctor Who show on the telly. I was always very interested in nature and wildlife when I was young. These days, though, I've yet to learn there's a lot more to nature than I realized. My daughter, the one you saved, she's got powers like you, too. Talk to animals, the girl can. Don't suppose that's something you can do?"
"Not exactly."
"Alright... Well, then, what exactly is it like?"
Arnold's eyes glowed a bright green once again, looking at Nigel to focus his thoughts.
It's not like telepathy in the sense that you hear the words. Words are language. Language is something you have to spell out and write. The pure emotions are what I send. Anyone can receive, just like you. Arnold thought.
Receiving the message as intended by Arnold, Nigel held his hand to his head, letting out a surprised moan after experiencing the mental transmission.
"Wow... That was... That felt very raw. Like raw, naked thought. That's very interesting. But... That's not all you can do, is it?" Nigel asked.
"No." Arnold said.
"No, of course not. You're the Green Eye, you have lots of different talents. Heh... You know, it's funny. I never thought I'd live to see real-life superheroes, or to be standing and talking to one."
"Former superhero. If you can call it that."
"All the same. Hard to imagine, a man with a name as big as yours, and, behind it all, there's still another name. 'Arnold Shortman'. Say, er, I've been meaning to ask, you wouldn't happen to know a Miles Shortman, would you?"
Arnold's detatched interest in the conversation turned to full attention as he heard the second name mentioned, looking directly at Nigel as he listened.
"How do you know my dad?" Arnold asked.
"Miles Shortman is your father? Heh-heh-heh, what a small world after all! I should've guessed it, too, you've got the same hair." Nigel cheered.
The cheerful demeanor of Nigel was met with indifference by Arnold, and the former, noticing the reaction, returned to conversation to answer the question.
"I met your father a few times here and there. He was an anthropologist, I run into plenty in my line of work. Got down here in San Lorenzo before we could, that was an accomplishment. He was a nice old chap, bit of a clumsy one, but definitely a good heart. How's he doing now?" Nigel asked.
"Dead. Along with my mother. They lived in Hillwood." Arnold said.
As if having an armor-piercing bullet shoot through his perpetual cheeriness, Nigel responded to Arnold with sympathy and a somber face.
"Oh, I'm... I'm sorry. I really am. He was a wonderful man. If his attitude towards people was any indication of his character, I'm sure he was a great father to you." Nigel said.
WIth far too much to say regarding the subject, Arnold remained silent, turning his head away in reclusiveness. A father he is as well, Nigel is not blind to the pain that Arnold feels now, and he speaks to him as though he were his own son, in part paying his respects to an old friend.
His words are also backed up as he walked up to Arnold, kneeling down next to him.
"Look, son. I've seen my fair share of danger, but I'm just a nature documentarian. I haven't seen what you've seen, been where you've been. Nobody has. Of course, you can say the same about plenty of people, but they haven't seen what went on in Hillwood. I only saw the highlights on the news, and I knew you did what you could to set things right." Nigel said.
"You don't know the half of it." Arnold said.
"No, I don't, and, frankly, I'm not sure I want to. But I can tell you this much: That's no excuse to give up. However bad you think it all was, it could've been much worse if you weren't there."
"It happened because of me. Because I came here to San Lorenzo in the first place. It would not have happened at all if I just hadn't done anything. Like I said, you don't know the half of it."
Knowing that his line of thought was not working, Nigel readjusted to the tone, still not giving up on Arnold.
"Because of your powers?" Nigel asked.
"If I'd never gotten them, Hillwood would still be here. You know something else? If Curly's not really dead, then, maybe I can't die either. So not only do I have to live with what I did, I might have to do it until the end of time itself. You think I still would've taken it if I'd known that?" Arnold asked.
"Nobody knows the greater consequences of what they do in life. Even the smallest action can have the biggest reactions, changing the flow of everything. I know that much from what I've observed in wildlife."
"Suppose your actions were responsible for the destruction of an entire ecosystem. Would that be something you would be able to live with?"
The very thought of the idea disturbed Nigel, forcing him to reply in full honesty regardless of the consequences of the conversation.
"No. I don't think I could." Nigel said.
"So, then, how do you all expect me to live with what I did to my own home? You think I should still be out there, causing more problems out in the world? I've done enough damage. Better I just stay here and mitigate the damage." Arnold said.
Once again was Nigel forced to rethink his strategy, and, in a moment of unexpected brilliance, spoke out his next argument.
"I'm not a scientist, at least, not the kind that works in STEM, but... There is a certain belief that I have. Nothing happens in a vacuum. All the matter in the universe, it interacts with each other, and keeps things moving. Nothing really stays still. You might think that you're mitigating your influence on the world by staying here, but I can tell you that it's not working. You browse the internet or watch the news, there's almost something out there about you. Like it or not, you made your impact on the world, and you continue to move it in new ways all the time. And the ways you've moved it have only been for the best. Maybe you didn't save Hillwood, but plenty of others have been saved because you inspired people to save them. Even by staying here, you're still affecting the world." Nigel said.
This, at last, led Arnold to stay silent, beginning to rethink his approach towards life, and reconsider leaving with the Thornberrys.
"You really believe that big-headed weirdo when he says aliens are going to invade the world?" Arnold asked.
"I've just met a superhero and learned my daughter talks to animals in the past few days. I'm a lot more open-minded than I used to be." Nigel joked.
Arnold scoffed at Nigel's comment, and Nigel himself let out a chuckle.
"Maybe, if you're still here, and you're affecting the world whether you try to or not, then you might as well keep trying to make the world a little better." Nigel said.
Once more did Arnold's mind conisder what was said to him, finding the very idea of arguing against Nigel Thornberry to be an impossible one. His warm and fatherly demeanor make him susceptible to other ideas and points of view, and Nigel's has planted itself firmly in his mind now.
And, with that small glimmer, change occurs.
-
Marianne impetuously waited outside the Comvee, with Luz not too far away from her. The former has no idea on what her husband does or why he takes so much time to do it, making her lean against the Comvee in restlessness, while the latter held on his face an expression that seemed to hold a feeling of victory, in a way a proud father would have for his child.
Both see the rearrival of Nigel Thornberry, with Arnold Shortman accompanying him during the walk back. Seeing Arnold with Nigel, Marianne not only looks at Arnold's presence with surprise, but the rest of the Thornberrys look out the windows with the same expression...
...and Dib, anxious to see any hope for his mission to succeed, stepped back out to meet with Arnold.
"Mr. Shortman." Dib said.
"I don't care about your crazy future bullshit, Membrane. Just tell me one thing: You're going to make sure Curly is dead for good. If there's even a 1% chance that this story of yours is possible, I need to make sure there's never a threat of him again. Anything involving your alien or an alien invasion is less than none of my concern." Arnold said.
"And should you be convinced otherwise that I'm right?"
Arnold paused before replying to his question, still unsure of what to say with the recent change of heart he felt.
"We'll see. For now, don't push your luck." Arnold said.
Satisfied that he at last achieved his goal, Dib giddily hopped back on the Comvee, with Marianne following behind and Nigel right behind her. Arnold is next in line to follow the Thornberrys onboard, but he is stopped short by Luz's hand on his shoulder, prompting Nigel to stay and listen as well.
"Arnold." Luz said.
"You always knew when something was gonna happen. Stopped to rub it in my face?" Arnold asked.
"You know I have told you that there is no way back from the way of a Spirit Master. That it is a step in life that cannot be untaken."
"Yeah?"
"Well... What I told you is still true, from a certain point of view. Just as you cannot undo the actions you have taken in life, to become a Spirit Master is one such step. But to surrender your powers, to live as an ordinary man again... this, this is indeed possible."
Reaching to a necklace hanging alongside many others on his neck, Luz grabbed a select one and pulled it off, breaking the string and holding it in front of Arnold.
"What is it?" Arnold asked.
"An elixir. It removes all traces of the Spirit Master from within you. Drink it, and you will be just as you once was. With this, you can end the threat of Curly once and for all." Luz said.
Holding his hand over it, Arnold lightly caressed the vial, having new thoughts in his head emerge as he knew of its existence.
"Luz... You had this the whole time? And you never told me?" Arnold asked.
"I could not bring it to you in your battles in Hillwood, as much as I wanted to. However, it would have meant nothing if I did. The elixir does not work only by drinking it. You must want it to work. You must will it to work. Curly as you faced him before would have staved off its effects, but he will end as he is now, thanks to your efforts." Luz explained.
Still did Arnold keep his focus on the elixir, now with the recent thought he had developed take form in full, and contemplate another use for the liquid. A stronger empath than Arnold, Luz immediately recognized his thought, and, with disapproving wide eyes, snatched the vial away before Arnold could take it.
"No, Arnold. That is not why I give this to you." Luz said.
"You had a way out this whole time, and you never gave it to me? You forced me to go on like this? Who do you think you are?" Arnold asked.
"I think myself to be the only man with enough sense to stop you from making a terrible mistake. Who do you think you are to deny yourself? To try to snuff out what makes you who you are?"
"It's my own damn decision, Luz. Don't try to take this from me."
Stepping in between Arnold and Luz, Nigel reached for the elixir before the former could take it, ending any chance of a fight could ensue.
"Hold on, now. Don't forget, lad, there's a reason you're coming along. If this Curly of yours is as big a problem as you believe, you can't waste this on yourself and leave the world at risk. More importantly, Luz isn't the only one with a stake in your health. I knew your father. I might not have known him well as you did, but I know he would not want his own son to bring harm to himself. This will be on my persons for safekeeping." Nigel said.
Opening a pocket on his shirt, Nigel stuffed it inside, sealing it back up.
"A life for a life." Nigel said.
The echo of his statement brought an approving smile to Luz's face, but a disappointed one to Arnold's. Angered by the perceived betrayal of Luz, Arnold walked away without giving his mentor a proper goodbye, stepping onto the Comvee without looking back.
Before joining the family, Nigel bid one final departure to Luz in an attempt to lift his lowered spirits.
"Don't worry, now. I'll watch over the boy." Nigel said.
"Yes. In your hands, I know he shall be safe. Safe travels, Nigel Thornberry." Luz said.
Stepping onboard the Comvee, Nigel allowed the family to be reunited, fully loading the mobile home and making the family ready to depart on their journey. Pulling out of the city of the Green-Eyed People, the Comvee began driving into the jungles of San Lorenzo, heading to their next destination.
"So, now, we head to this alien of yours?" Arnold asked.
"Nope." Dib said.
"To get Curly's body?"
"Nope."
"Then where the hell are we going?"
"To get the rest of them."
"The rest of who?"
"The team."
"Team?"
"The robot gave me a whole list of people to find. You ran a team of superheroes and almost managed to save Hillwood from its demise. If we're going to do this, we need every name on that list."
"So where are we headed next?"
"Ocean Shores, California. Surf capital of the world."
"And how far is that?"
"About 2 days' drive from here." Marianne said.
The intermission introduced in the mission that Arnold accepted, he sighed in annoyance, taking to the couch and laying down to rest.
"Wake me when we get there." Arnold said.
"Uh, I was sitting there." Dib said.
"Not anymore."
Trying to find another spot to sit, Dib stepped towards the table with the Thornberry youths, who immediately rejected him.
"Don't even think about it." Eliza sneered.
Forced to awkwardly sit on the floor, Dib did so in a cross-legged manner, looking about in the manner of an animal infringing on enemy territory.
"So, you wanna hear the time Bigfoot used our belt sander?" Dib asked.
"No." Arnold said.
"Hey Arnold, don't take the red pill." Tyler snarked.
The Thornberry youths snickered at Dib, leaving him to fester in mockery as the trip continued.
[Soundtrack Cue: Kevin Manthei - Tak's Theme]
Concurrent to the preceding event, in a manner relative to the passage of time in the universe, there is yet another important player yet to be fulfill their role.
On the distant planet of Tarkopar, there existed a civilization of diminutive blue creatures that fed on sunlight, harnessing its energy to be redirected towards acts considered nothing less than magic. Their cities and infrastructure, reflecting their whimsical and esoteric culture, was a colorful landscape, with population centers that coexisted with the land rather than conquer it.
But the concept of conquest has not been quelled. It was living among their populace, simply waiting for the right moment to strike.
Ruins are all that remain left of the planet of Tarkopar, with its entire populace dead, and their bodies laid about the ground, not even given the dignity of a proper burial. Rubble lays all about the ground, polluting the ground, and smoke fills the sky, choking out all breathable air.
It is a tragic, horrendous sight of genocide that can be recognized by any form of sentient life...
...except the one responsible for this destruction, belonging to the destructive race of creatures known as Irkens. This Irken is much different than the majority of the species; it is a Defect, an Irken with a PAK that functions atypically from the rest, unique in personality and thought process that makes this one more dangerous than the rest.
Her name is Tak.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Looking on the destruction of the planet she has caused, she smiled at the carnage and death. Some of it is by her own hand, but the majority of it was done at the hands of its own dominant species, turned against itself in order to bring extinction to itself and make it ripe for the Irken invasion.
Smiling on her work, Tak stands with her customized S.I.R. robot, given the name of MiMi, preparing to contact her superiors to speak of her success.
"[It was a good stroke of luck that brought us to this planet. After Zim had ruined my place with the Tallest once again, I was forced to make the best of a bad situation. I suppose this will be enough to please the Tallest, will it not, MiMi?]" Tak asked.
"[YES, MASTER.]" MiMi replied.
"[Yes, of course. Now, contact the Tallest. I wish to inform them of my success.]"
MiMi complied with its order by opening her chest, revealing a video screen. The screen displayed a feed of white noise, connecting with the Tallest to inform them of her success. Her wait to connect is short, and soon she looks upon the screen with the Tallest looking back at her, and she looked on them with great anticipation.
"[Yeah, whaddya want?]" Red asked.
"[Almighty Tallest, this is Invader Tak, sending my report from planet Tarkopar.]" Tak said.
The Tallest looked to one another in confusion, neither recognizing the Invader.
"[Who?]" Purple asked.
"[Tak, almighty Tallest. I had almost managed to drain the Earth and fill it with snacks for your eating pleasure! Remember?]" Tak asked.
Once again did the Tallest stand in unfettered confusion, with Red faking a recognition of the Invader.
"[Oh! Oh, yeah, Tak! I remember now! How's it goin', girl? Who the hell is she again?]" Red asked.
His final sentence was a discreet question asked of Purple, who shrugged and mumbled 'I don't know' with no attempt at words.
"[Despite the efforts of Zim to steal my mission from me, I have landed on this backwater planet called Tarkopar. I have already put the dominant species to extinction, and it is ripe for the Irken Empire to take under Operation Impeding Doom II.]" Tak said.
"[Huh? Oh, yeah, the... The Impending Doom thing. Yeah, about that... We, uh, sort of cancelled that old thing.]" Red said.
The news brought near devestation to Tak, who looked back to the Tallest with betrayal and defeat.
"[What?]" Tak asked.
"[Yeah. We're actually on our way to Earth to go blow it up.]" Red said.
"[But why? It was our greatest mission as the Irken Empire to overtake the universe and have it under Irken rule!]"
"[Yeah, and then Zim came along and messed everything up six ways from Sunday. So, we're sort of done with that asshole.]" Purple said.
"[Yeah. I mean, it's nice and all, the whole planet being taken over, but we've got bigger things to deal with now. So, you take care of yourself, okay?]" Red asked.
The video transmission ended, leaving Tak to face her own reflection in a black screen. Her expression still screamed of anger and defeat, feeling as though her efforts were entirely wasted, and left to fester in negative emotions and a drowning feeling of inferiority...
...but, with a new plan to win back the favor of the Tallest, a smile began to form.
"[MiMi, did you hear what they said about the Earth?]" Tak asked.
"[THE TALLEST EXPLAINED THEIR PLAN WAS TO ELIMINATE ZIM.]" MiMi replied.
"[How much closer are we to Earth than the Tallest?]"
"[IF WE WERE TO DEPART NOW, WE WILL ARRIVE BEFORE THEM BY SEVERAL OF EARTH'S DAYS.]"
"[Excellent. Then prepare the repaired escape pod for departure. If they want Zim dead, I shall deliver his body to them, and win back my place as an Invader in the Irken Empire at last!]"
"[YES, MASTER, I OB-]"
MiMi's obeisance stopped in its tracks, with its red eyes glowing blue, and its voice changing to that of a far goofier one, resembling GIR's.
"Sandwiches... Shamrocks and sandwiches... Chicken and peas make me feel good and warm inside..." MiMi babbled.
Annoyed with her S.I.R. malfunctioning, Tak bashed MiMi on the head, correcting her personality back to normal.
"[YES, MASTER, I OBEY.]" MiMi said.
[Soundtrack Cue: KMFDM - Sycophant]
Departing to the escape pod that Tak arrived to this planet in, the selfsame pod now retrofitted with technology and equipment commandeered from the planet, the Irken and her companion boarded the ship, sealing it closed to the environment. Taking to the controls, Tak prepared the escape pod for liftoff, igniting its engines.
The antigravitational technology suspended the escape pod in the air, and jets fired after, sending it up in the sky. A quick breach through the atomsphere puts them into the void of space soon after, sending them on their way towards the planet of their destination.
Inputting the coordinates to the lone living blue planet, the third from its sun, they are set for the course of Earth.
As they flew through space, Tak has images of revenge start to circle her mind, fantasies of violence to exact on the reason behind her life being as poor as it is now. Moreover does she see images of his head on a silver platter, and served unto the Tallest as a gift.
The fantasy rewards her with the feeling of being seen and approved of in the eyes of the Tallest, not unlike a child seeking approval from a parent. Perhaps it is irony or symbolism that Irkens are as small as human children, and can be as obedient and emotional as them...
...but, in the ruins of Tarkopar, that temperament has dire consequences, as her dire wrath upon Earth will soon be seen.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Chapter 11: Chapter 9: Invaders From Irk, Part 2
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 9: INVADERS FROM IRK, PART 2
An alien invasion is coming to Earth, and only a few people can stop it.
This information has been relayed to Dib Membrane, a self-proclaimed defender of the Earth who has personal experience with one member of this incoming threat. For years, he has battled against an alien named Zim, sent to Earth on a fake mission to rid the Irken Empire of him, as he has caused enough trouble for his planet to ruin their first attempt at intergalactic conquest...
...but his nature has proved so destructive, it has invoked the wrath of his empire and brings them to Earth now, for the sole purpose of killing him and destroying the very planet itself, throwing the baby out with the bathwater in an attempt to ensure their plans can be thwarted no more.
Acting on a message sent from an Arnold Shortman from the future, who had sent a robot in his stead, Dib Membrane has brought along the Arnold Shortman of the present, who, unlike his alternate future self, is nowhere near as concerned for the rest of the world as he once was.
Living through many traumas too deep to feel his zest for good any longer, he had chosen to live out the rest of his life in the jungles of San Lorenzo, among the Green-Eyed People to have some semblance of a family. It is because of the kind words of Nigel Thornberry that Arnold has opted to join this mission, along with a personal goal:
Thaddeus 'Curly' Gammelthorpe, infamously known as 'The Freak', may be dead, but his body is still active, and it his remains that helped Zim achieve his power to take over the Earth. The war he has fought against this enemy continues to haunt him, along with the many failures he has had in that goal, forcing him to come along to see closure.
To see the next name on Dib's list, he is onboard the Comvee, the omniterrestrial mobile home of the Thornberry family, on a long drive for Ocean Shores, California. He has slept a quarter of the trip off, and, upon waking, he has decided to take advantage of one of the few commodities that he has come to miss from modern life:
A shower.
Allowing himself to soak in the hot water of the Comvee's shower, Arnold sighed as put his hands against the wall, indulging himself in a warm sensory indulgence that brought him much-needed relaxation and comfort. Light pants come out of his mouth as he let his body soak in the water, loosening his muscles and letting his pores open up under the steam.
Small scoffs that bordered on laughs followed as he felt the tension lift up from him, giving him levity that he has not felt in a long time. The very relief he received made him chuckle at the fact a simple shower can bring him more peace than the efforts of the Green-Eyed People, and starts to wonder why he bothered to return to them in the first place.
Once the water was turned off and the cool air hit him, his relief started to escape him, and he is reminded why he returned back to San Lorenzo and the Green Eyes.
He stepped out of the shower with a new change of clothes, provided by the Thornberrys who share his age and size. His pants are simple shorts, on loan from one of the boys, but his shirt, much to his annoyance, is a bright purple T-shirt bearing the name 'Boys-'N'-Berries' on it, representative of the band the three Thornberry boys play in.
But he is in far too sour a mood to care for his dignity, nor willing to protest against what was given by his hosts, leaving him to swallow his complaints and emerge from the shower with what clothes he was given. Interested only in staying in solitude for as long as he could, his first instinct is to go back to the couch...
...however, he finds Dib laying asleep on it, sucking his thumb as he dozed off.
Annoyed with a lack of seat, and disgusted with Dib's infantile habit, Arnold leaned against a wall, keeping his head low, not unlike a gunfighter of the old west keeping a cool composure until action calls him. It is not action that calls on the football head in the Comvee, but the next generation of Thornberrys.
"Hey Arnold. Need a seat?" Eliza asked.
Turning to look at the Thornberrys sitting at the table, Arnold eyeballed the empty seat laid out for him, seeing Eliza and Shane looking at him in anticipation and invitation. He sees the kindness in their faces and can feel their sincerity, and, though he cares little for it at the moment...
...he wants to sit back down, so he takes their offered seat across from them, seeing them look back at him. Initially laying back in his seat, Arnold's attempt at relaxation was foiled with the smiling faces of Eliza and Shane looking at him, their awkward silence forcing conversation to begin one way or another.
Shane is the one who does it, believing he can break the ice with a fellow male.
"Hey." Shane said.
"Hey." Arnold said.
Awkward silence reigns again, with Arnold's short response making conversation harder to achieve for the three. The smiles of Eliza and Shane begin to falter, leading them both to try to figure out another way to approach the ice-cold football head. Their eyes dart about the room for a conversation piece, soon finding one on Arnold's hand, noticing a wedding ring on it.
"You married?" Shane asked.
"Hmm?" Arnold asked.
"You're wearing a ring. You married?"
"It's a really nice ring." Eliza added.
Arnold immediately shut down the conversation by removing his ring, putting it in his pocket. The smiles on Eliza and Shane's faces now completely disappeared, with both knowing that they struck a nerve with a topic not for discussion. With the mood now a somber one, Eliza spoke, matching her words to the setting, with a message that she felt more than appropriate to make.
"I, uh, didn't get a chance to thank you for saving my life. I know my dad said it already, but I really am thankful." Eliza said.
"Sure." Arnold said.
"The, uh, clothes aren't a problem, are they?"
"No."
"Good. The, uh, pants were Donnie's, and the shirt's one of the ones they sell when they're on tour. But they don't sell that much."
"Aw, come on, babe, we sell a few." Shane joked.
"Not much."
The married couple shared a giggle together, sharing a lighthearted moment that Arnold bore witness to. Seeing a loving couple happy together, sharing even the smallest of emotions together as Eliza and Shane do, Arnold felt a sense of jealousy and sorrow, reminded of his own lost woman.
It is this emotion that moves him to speak, this time taking the initiative for conversation.
"You married long?" Arnold asked.
"Oh, yeah. Few years now. It's been great." Shane said.
"We met when we were kids. He was a hot, new pop star, and a kind of douchey one..." Eliza said.
"Babe."
Shane nudged Eliza in the side, making her giggle at her own tease.
"...and the foundation wanted somebody popular to get more people interested in the show and animals. He was sent to stay with us for a few weeks and do some music videos along the way." Eliza explained.
"Yeah. And to her 'douchey' point, I was kind of a blowhard, and got us in a lot of trouble. But Eliza here, she's the real deal through and through. She saved my ass plenty of times, and, well, as much as I started to fall in love with nature... I fell in love with her, too. Eventually, my 15 minutes of fame went up, and I came crawling back for a job, and picked up where I left off." Shane said.
"We got married in Fiji. Dad was filming an episode on the monkey-faced bat at the time. Sometimes, he'll rewatch that episode along with the wedding footage just to try to relive the whole day."
"Cute." Arnold said.
"Thanks. I love being part of the Thornberry clan. Especially after learning her brother has a lot of musical talent, and her cousin just so happened to play drums in his spare time. Now, I'm part of an amazing family, and an amazing band. Amazing how life works out, isn't it?" Shane asked.
"Your music's alright. I'm into Dino Spumoni, myself."
"Dino Spumoni? Man, how old are you?"
"20."
"20? Damn, you're younger than us. You like the old classics, huh?"
"I met him personally, so I lean towards it, yeah."
Both Eliza and Shane scoffed in surprise, eager to hear the tales of Arnold and his connection to the old singer.
"Get outta town, really?" Eliza asked.
"Really. I was the guy who helped him and his songwriting partner get back together, and got him to call off faking his death. He was a tenant at the Sunset Arms, the boarding house my grandparents and parents owned in Hillwood." Arnold said.
"Cool, how are they doing- Oh, right, Hillwood... Shit... I'm sorry." Shane apologized.
The absent-minded question asked out of kindness and habit brought a cold air in the room, leading the group to silence again. Unlike before, with the previous attempts to bring back conversation, there seemed to be no more attempts to bring it back to normalcy, and Arnold felt no desire to meet them on friendly terms again.
"I'm... I'm just gonna sit somewhere else." Arnold said.
Getting up from his seat, Arnold began walking away, with Shane protesting in an attempt to undo his mistake.
"Hey, wait, man, I'm sorry, force of habit, I-" Shane tried to say.
Walking off in search of a new place to seat himself, Arnold ignored Shane's pleas, leaving him with the ire of his wife.
"Great going, Shane." Eliza scolded.
"Sorry, babe, I was just trying to be nice. Ask normal questions, you know?" Shane asked.
"Asking a man whose parents are dead how his parents are doing? Yeah, real normal question."
"I... I forgot. It's not every day you meet a superhero in real life, let alone one who went through half the shit he did. What are you supposed to do in that situation?"
"You give him time." Nigel said.
The young Thornberry couple looked to see Nigel standing by them, offering his sympathies to their failed attempt at an outreach to Arnold.
"I know you two are trying to help, but the boy's demons are his own, and he has to fight them on his own terms. We can help him by listening and trying out best to talk to him, but we'll take our time to help him get there. Rushing ever did anyone any good." Nigel said.
"He just seems real messed up. Are we really the best people to be handling this? Or getting him out on a mission away from his home?" Shane asked.
"Sometimes, getting out of your comfort zone is the best thing you can get. It's as good enough a start as any."
"Do you think he'll ever be okay, dad?" Eliza asked.
Nigel looked back at his daughter to see her showing great concern for Arnold, knowing that she feels the most afraid for him after his Herculean efforts to save her life. Sharing her concern for Arnold, for reasons just personal to him, Nigel held her in a hug to calm her fears.
"I hope so, poppet." Nigel said.
Nigel left the two alone once again, returning to the driver's seat to handle the Convee. The reassurance of her father lent Eliza no relief from her troubles, leading her to sink into her folded arms on the table. Still attempting to make up for his mistake, Shane spoke up again to apologize.
"You really care about him, huh?" Shane asked.
"Don't tell me something stupid like you're getting jealous, Shane." Eliza groaned.
"What? No, Eliza, it's just... I've only ever seen you that upset when you're dealing with animals, when you can't help them. I never knew you were able to talk to them, but I knew that you had a really deep connection with them."
"I've always loved helping animals. I've done my best to help them, and they've always helped me in return. I felt like I was part of the rest of the animal kingdom, like I was part of them. But I've never known anybody to do the same for me. Except my dad. He would do the most amazing things to help me, like getting me out of a blizzard, or even flying me to the hospital across miles of desert when my appendix burst, and that's after fighting off a giant bird."
"Your dad did that for you? Damn, Nigel's a badass."
"Shane, please don't be immature."
"No, no, I mean, that's really, really cool. Like, he's a great dad. I mean it."
"Thank you. But the Green Eye's supposed to be one of the greatest superheroes who ever lived. He helped a lot of people, just like he helped me... just like my dad helped me. Seeing him give up... I think about what would have happened if my dad never saved me. It's funny, I've worried about animals more than people a lot of times, but... I just kind of see a bit of my father in him. I don't suppose that makes a lot of sense."
"No... No, I feel what you're saying. He's got that sort of... feeling about him. Like... you can just trust him. Like he brings out something in you."
Shane reached across the table to grab Eliza's hand, holding it in his own.
"But, no matter what happens, you know I'm here for you, right?" Shane asked.
"I know, Shane. Thank you." Eliza said.
Once Arnold was out of sight of the Thornberrys, finding a place all to himself in the crowded Comvee, he reached back into his pocket to bring back out his ring, looking at it with sorrow and regret. Subtly feeling the metal between his fingers before he slid it back on his hand, he caressed it as though it were the person he pledged himself to it with, desperately missing her by his side.
And he wonders if she is thinking of him.
-
Thoughts of a would-be wife have saddened Arnold Shortman, reminding him of the most important person in his life, and how he cut her out of it. He is the owner of one of two rings, forged for the purpose of making vows of holy matrimony; they previously belonged to the departed couple of Phillip and Gertie Shortman, now belonging to Arnold Shortman...
...and Helga Pataki, the one that was left behind.
As the heroin starts to exit her system, Helga wakes once again to another unwanted day, closing her eyes again in the hopes that she would return to sleep. Her efforts to return to sleep result only in her tumbling about in silence, unable to make her brain fall back into unconsciousness.
It has been forced to carry out the entire day, but it is riddled with too much depression to find the strength to rise again. Unable to return to sleep and unwilling to rise, Helga chose to lay in bed, staring into blank space with drowsy, half-opened eyes, feeling no desire to move anything else.
However, the sound of the front door opening and closing send a message of panic to her mind, forcing her to rise up.
Jumping out of her bed, Helga quickly grabbed all the instruments of her drug habit, her syringe, spoon, belt, and remaining heroin, and immediately shoved it under her pillow, attempting to hide the materials as quickly as possible in a place least likely to be seen or checked.
Looking down to see she had on no pants or panties, Helga grabbed a discarded pair of jeans from the floor, putting them on with haste and without any underwear to go first, forgoing the garments in preference of speed. The cloth of the jeans give her an unwanted stimulation of her clitoris, making her shudder at the touch, and forcing her to compose herself as the rubbing continued.
"Helga? Baby sister? You awake? I brought lunch!" A voice called.
Forced to go on with her show, Helga stepped out of her room, walking to the living room of the house to find Olga, her elder sister, arriving back. Attempting to hide away her rush with her normal indifference, Helga's approach was made with her usual slow walk and death-like serenity.
The act works, leaving Olga, well-meaning and caring as she is, once again oblivious to her younger sister's ills.
"I brought home some Good Burger. Hope you don't mind, I had a long day and didn't have time to cook, nor will I again tonight. Lot of work to do." Olga said.
"It's fine." Helga groaned.
Seating herself at the kitchen table to find a bag of fast food resting on it, Helga reached in and grabbed a hamburger from the bag, opening the wrapper around it and biting into it. Her own hunger is something she barely notices anymore, and eating anything feels like a forced chore, but she shoves the food down nonetheless to keep up the show, forcing her body to receive its sustenance.
"Thanks for understanding, Helga. We're still working on the Hillwood Commission, we're very close to getting former president Arcudi on something. His lawyers are trying their 'official presidential acts' argument, but they're starting to run out of money. It's just a matter of time before he's behind bars for what he did." Olga said.
"Don't you ever get tired of all those different commissions and committees and whatever you go on?" Helga asked.
"Tired? Definitely. Tired of them? Never. This is all important work, you know. I want to make sure the country's a better place for everybody, especially you. That starts with holding criminals accountable, and passing legislation that helps the American people."
"You always were the showoff."
Helga's snark hit Olga on a deeper level than intended, meant to only be a passing shot, but instead led her to sit down, attempting a heart-to-heart with Helga.
"You... You still think of me that way, don't you?" Olga asked.
"Hey, it was just a joke. Don't get all serious on me." Helga said.
"Well, I'm being serious because I'm trying to show you that you're important to me, Helga. You're my baby sister."
"I never liked being called that. You wanna be a good big sister? Stop calling me that dumb name."
"But you are my baby sister. That's not going to change. I realize that we didn't have the best relationship growing up-"
"Because you hogged all the attention from my parents and never stopped to think about me."
Olga sighed in an emotional pain that displayed shame and self-disgust, leading her to change her tone with her sister.
"Look, Helga. I get you might hate me for that. But I hate myself for that all the more, believe it or not. And I sincerely wish I didn't have our parents raining down all their attention on me. Not just because of what it did to you, but also because of what it did to me. You think I liked having all that pressure on me? Being treated as the savior of the universe, and getting burned out without a direction? But I made the best of my situation and tried to do the right thing. And I'm trying again, for you. Can you please just accept that?" Olga asked.
Forced to confront the reality of their living situation, Helga held her head down to avoid eye contact, lethargically replying with a...
"Okay. I got it." Helga mumbled.
"Thank you. And I am here for you, Helga. I can be here to help you. I'm trying to help you by giving you some direction, like with the college applications. Did you send some out?" Olga asked.
"Yeah."
"Which ones?"
"All of 'em."
"That's good, that's good. You're really talented with your art, you could get into one of those places easily. Especially with my job in congress. You can have a good life ahead of you if you want it. Maybe find a cute boy to share it with."
"Arnold's gone, Olga."
"So, maybe it's time to find someone else."
"Arnold's gone."
Unable to make any progress with Helga in their conversation any further, Olga got up from her seat, hugging Helga's head and giving it a kiss.
"You eat up. I've got some bills to look over before I co-sign them. After that, we can relax on the couch and watch some TV together. Okay?" Olga asked.
"Sure." Helga said.
"Great. I gotta pee, I'll be back for my burger."
Leaving Helga to head to the bathroom, Olga's absence allowed her sister the chance to look at the ring on her finger in solitude, remembering the man who gave it to her. Lightly rubbing the diamond protruding from the metal, Helga's thoughts are on Arnold Shortman, wishing that he was back with her.
And soft cries come to her eyes, ruining what little there was of her appetite.
Closing the door to the bathroom, Olga reached for her pants to remove them and use the toilet, but a sight in the corner of her eye stopped her from her task. Looking in the sink, she noticed several black ashes in it, peering down to inspect the strange sight further and find out why it was in her sink.
In the ashes was a half-burnt paper with its ink still legible, and, upon taking it out, read that it came from Harvard University. Recognizing it as one of the college applications that she laid out for Helga, and realizing what the rest of the ashes once were, Olga removed her pants and panties to sit on the toilet, sinking further and heavier than normal upon sitting down.
Rubbing her eyes in frustration and anxiety, she fears for her younger sister, wondering what she had done wrong and what she could do different.
-
The rest of the drive is made with normal conversation between the Thornberrys, Arnold not even trying to make any, and Dib far too hated among the occupants of the Comvee to be spoken to unless absolutely necessary. The mobile home is filled with tension brewing from its two guests, aching for release as the drive comes close to its first stop.
And, arriving in the streets of Ocean Shores, it finally does.
[Soundtrack Cue: Jane's Addiction - Stop!; Starting from 0:20]
Driving into the surf town of Ocean Shores, the Comvee is immediately assaulted with a hard dose of sunlight and heat, with not a single cloud obstructing the sky. The bright day also gives the occupants of the Comvee a good look around the town, taking in the sights of the city.
What they saw was a perfect time capsule of the 2000s, captured in all its urban energetic glory; skater and surfers make up the primary populace of the town, none seen without a skateboard or surfboard under their arms, or with rollerblades on their feet as they dart across town.
Street food like hamburgers and hot dogs are seen in the hands of many hungry citizens, with others sitting by in groups to enjoy pizzas together. A sense of belonging and togetherness, along with the casual attitude all about the city, resembles something more like a rock concert and a summer break rather than an modern town.
There is an enthusiasm and sense of joy that would seem more in line with a theme park rather than a city, but, unlike the simulacra of a theme park that seemed to only replicate feelings of youth, summer, and paradise, this was an authentic love for the town, and it reflected well in its people.
In driving across the town, the Thornberrys saw various more activities and fun being had by the citygoers, with locals and tourists alike joining in fun.
"Well, this is a little more... louder than I thought it would be." Dib said.
"Great. You told me a superhero would be here, but all I see is a bunch of beach bums and skaters. All we need is a killer shark." Arnold snarked.
"I don't know about you guys, but this is my kinda place. Can we stay longer, dad?" Donnie asked.
"Now, this might make an interesting episode. Ocean Shores: Home to the cleanest and most beautiful beaches in the west coast of the United States, with native creatures such as the bottlenose dolphin, green turtle, pelican, and... the American college student, acting out a modern mating ritual known as 'The Wet T-Shirt Contest'." Nigel narrated.
As pointed out by Nigel, a group of female college students were seen standing on a stage, wearing nothing but bikini bottoms and white T-shirts, with several male college students shooting squirt guns at them, spraying water all over their shirts and showing revealing outlines of their breasts and erect nipples.
Eliza had no desire to see the immature antics outside, and what Arnold saw made him sigh in disgust, sitting back down from the window.
"Oh, goodness... I don't think the mammaries of the homo sapiens are supposed to grow that big. Perhaps could this be the work of plastic surgery?" Nigel asked.
"It's official: This place is the best place on Earth." Tyler snickered.
"You can say that again." Donnie giggled.
"Sorry, guys, ain't with you on this one. I'm a married man." Shane said.
"And so are you, Nigel. Would you like to stop gawking at those bimbos?" Marianne asked.
"Oh, believe me, Marianne, dearie, this is strictly academic for me. Although I remember back in my college years when I got a bit frisky. Put myself in makeup and leather in our production of The Rocky Horror Show, I did. I put on a much better performance than Tim Curry did." Nigel said.
Seeing the Comvee roll past them, the college students armed with squirt guns, in their still-adolescent minds, no longer paid attention to the wet female students behind them, temporarily abandoning basic reproductive instincts for childish mischief with a new distraction put before them.
"Hey, guys, check out the R.V.! Apparently we got some rednecks who like to get kinky, look at the tiger paintjob!" One student called.
"Let's shoot it!" Another student shouted.
Cheering in absent-minded bravado, the students began shooting at the Comvee, spraying the windows with water. The Thornberrys by the windows instinctively backed away at the impact of the water, even knowing they were protected. Marianne, however, was not phased at all by the antics of the college students, instead turning on the windshield wipers to compensate.
"Hooligans." Marianne sneered.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
The Comvee then pulled past the beach to end at the boardwalk, parking itself to put their first journey to a stop. Disembarking from the Comvee, the Thornberrys, joined by the two accompanying members of their party, Arnold and Dib. Dib is the one who leads the way, taking them to the destination of the hero they seek.
Their destination is an outdoor eatery on the boardwalk known as the Shore Shack, stepping forward into the establishment.
"This is where we're supposed to find this hero of yours? A burger shack?" Arnold asked.
"Yep. We're on the lookout for Otto Rocket. He's a surfer and a skater, said to be one of the best in his time." Dib said.
"Oh, great. A skater's gonna help us save the world. I feel confident already."
"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving for a burger right about now. Why don't we eat up while we're here?" Eliza asked.
"Yeah, I'm starving. Can we eat here?" Donnie asked.
"Alright, I don't see why not. Might as well, and the food smells absolutely delicious, ngh-heh-heh." Nigel said.
Walking to the counter were Nigel, Arnold, and Dib, approaching with the shared tasks of getting food for the group while also locating Otto Rocket. Getting to the counter, they were greeted by a portly Hawaiian man, identifiable as 'Tito' from his name tag, happily greeting the customers coming to establish a sale.
"Welcome to the Shore Shack. You new here in Ocean Shores?" Tito asked.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, we are. How can you tell?" Nigel asked.
"The shoes."
The three looked to their feet, observing their shoes to try to discern what about them revealed their tourist status.
"Er... And what's wrong with our shoes, good sir?" Nigel asked.
"You're Shoobies, that's what's wrong. You don't wear your shoes on the beach. Gets sand all in them." Tito said.
"I've been up and down the Sahara Desert and plenty more sandy areas than you care to count, friend. I assure you, sand in shoes are the least of what I've had to deal with. But then again, when in Rome..."
Seating himself on the floor, Nigel reached for his shoes, removing them along with his socks and making himself barefoot. The childish enthusiasm to get in the spirit of Ocean Shores brought annoyance and disappointment to Arnold and Dib's faces, but amusement to Tito's.
"Ha-ha-ha! Now, aren't you an enthusiastic one?" Tito asked.
"Oh, yes, indeed, sir. Nigel Thornberry is a man who loves nature more than life itself, and I'll take any excuse to get a little bit closer to it." Nigel said.
Dib cleared his throat, reminding Nigel of the purpose behind their visit to Ocean Shores.
"Mister Thornberry." Dib said.
"Oh, yes, er... First of all, let's get an order of... eight Big Kahuna Burger combos with chips, and make one of those a veggie, please." Nigel said.
"Chips? We don't serve no chips with our burgers, brutha. We make 'em with fresh-made french fries." Tito said.
"Ah, yes, that's what I mean. Silly words you yanks have for food, ngh-heh-heh-heh."
"[Noelani! 8 Big Kahuna Burger combos!]"
Once Nigel payed for the food he ordered, Tito stayed to make small talk with the three.
"Hey, Nigel Thornberry? Aren't you the British man who travels the world, films all kinds of animals?" Tito asked.
"That's me! Here with the family, and a few friends. On a bit of a mission." Nigel said.
"What mission might that be, brutha?"
"We're looking for Otto Rocket. Where is he?" Dib asked.
"Bit rude, aren't we? Lots of people wanna meet Otto Rocket, cuz. Why you wanna meet him?"
"It's very important. And my patience is just as short as his, if not shorter. We'd appreciate a little help." Arnold said.
"Well, he ain't here, cuz."
"Where is he?" Dib asked.
"On a trip."
"Where?" Arnold asked.
Tito chuckled at the incessant attitude of Arnold and Dib, calling to Noelani in the back in his native tongue.
"[Noelani! You gotta see this! Three white men with weird, big heads are asking for Otto, and won't say why!]" Tito called in Hawaiian.
"[Because it's between us and him. And you might want to look down at that soggy belly before you call other people names.]" Arnold snarked in Hawaiian.
Turning back to the three, Tito looked to Arnold with surprised caution, not expecting him to speak perfect Hawaiian.
"Look, big guy. I really don't wanna be here right now. The only reason I'm here is as a favor to a friend. And, quite frankly, the whole reason behind this mission, I don't even buy for a second. So, why don't you just help us out and tell us where he is?" Arnold asked.
"And why exactly should we tell a bunch of suspicious-looking people like you?" A voice asked.
The three turned to see Reggie Rocket and Twister Rodriguez, both carrying hockey sticks and other sports equipment, with Reggie patting her stick in her hand in preparation to use it against them. Noticing the tense attitude the two displayed towards them, Arnold stepped forward to show his own.
In an attempt to broker peace, Nigel raised his hands, attempting to calm the standoff before it could begin.
"Now, now, why don't we all just talk this out like civilized folk? I'm quite a good talker, if I don't say so myself, I believe I can help here." Nigel intervened.
"These two would be Reggie Rocket and Maurice Rodriguez, two of the four we were looking for here." Dib said.
"Oh, and you also know our names, even though we don't know who you are. That makes you all totally not creepy." Reggie said.
"Also, nobody calls me 'Maurice'. It's Twister." Twister added.
"So, are you gonna tell us where he is or not?" Arnold asked.
"Are you gonna tell us who the hell you people are, or not?" Reggie asked.
"Yes, yes, I can explain everything. You see, the football-headed man with us here happened to save our lives during a documentary filming in San Lorenzo, and the big-headed strange man in the trenchcoat forced us to go back to San Lorenzo and take him along on a mission to stop the Earth from being invaded by aliens, and invite like-abled persons like yourself to help." Nigel explained.
Even with Nigel's cheerful manner to try to lighten the load, his rambling explanation did no good, and only served to confuse and provoke the mood further.
"I think we've all heard enough. Why don't you freaks get out of here before you make it hard on yourselves?" Reggie asked.
"Two things. First of all, I came all this way on a two-day drive as a favor. That doesn't mean I like it or wanna do it any longer than I have to. Right now, you're the only thing standing between me and my trip home. Second..." Arnold began to say.
Stepping forward to Reggie, Arnold grabbed her hockey stick before it could land in her hand again, putting himself face-to-face with her with angered eyes.
"...don't ever say the word 'Freak'." Arnold sneered.
[Soundtrack Cue: hed (p.e.) - Suffa]
Bashing Arnold in the chest with her hockey stick, Reggie forced him back, gaining back both full control of her stick, and the distance to strike. Swinging her hockey stick towards him, Reggie narrowly missed him, merely cutting through the air before Arnold and not making a strike.
Skating in front of him on a pair of rollerblades, Reggie raised her hockey stick once again, this time aiming straight for the ground. Upon striking it, the impact had caused a blast of energy so great that it sent Arnold flying back, landing on the railway of the boardwalk.
Feeling his back hit the boardwalk railing, Arnold fell to his knees to recuperate from his injury. Shock is what initially comes over him, overshadowing his temporal pain, his mind trying to comprehend how a simple sports tool could have possibly caused such a powerful blast.
Seeing both Reggie and Twister come for him on rollerblades, he does not take the risk to find out.
Rising to his feet again, Arnold jumped over the next swing of Reggie's hockey stick, coming to an imminent impact with Twister's. Falling to his knees, Arnold harmlessly slid under the stick, watching it slice over his head. Coming to his feet again in a spin, Arnold took a defensive stance against the two, raising his fists to fight.
Rather than make another blitzkrieg towards him, Reggie moved to allow Twister to take point, which he did by dropping several hockey pucks on the ground. Looking to the hockey pucks with confusion, Arnold watched as Twister swung his hockey stick towards the first, sending it flying towards him.
Just as Reggie's hockey stick carried enough force to blast him back, Twister's was shown to be able to do the same, and, combined with the hockey pucks, it proved to have similar deadly effects. Upon impact, the hockey puck shot straight towards Arnold with the speed of a bullet.
Possessing the mental processes to see the incoming hockey puck on a time frame that no other human being can, Arnold moved out of the way of the puck and blocked it with his forearm. The move spared him a painful impact of the hockey puck in any vital organs or bones...
...but it did leave a nasty welt on his arm, making him groan in pain as he felt the impact.
Skating alongside Twister, Reggie continued to slap hockey pucks towards him, sending more gravity-fired projectiles sent his way. His superhuman senses allow him to perceive the incoming pucks faster than any other man alive, just as he perceived the first, and, through the use of acrobatics and breakdancing-like moves, dodged each and every incoming projectile.
With their pucks depleted, the two sportsmasters came forward to swing their hockey sticks at him, with Reggie coming forward to make the first attack. Jumping over her incoming attack, Arnold, spinning to avoid the incoming strike of Twister's hockey stick, threw back both his legs in kicks, landing hits on both of their heads.
Landing squarely back on his feet, Arnold looked between the two, singling out a target to pick off and reduce his number of enemies. Sensing a particular absent-mindedness from Twister, Arnold selected him as his target, bum-rushing him in a football tackle before he could recover.
With all the breath knocked out of him, Twister not only lost his ability to stand once again, but lost his grip on his hockey stick, letting it fall to the ground. Preparing to make use of his accidentally discarded weapon, Arnold took it for himself, rising it in defense against Reggie.
Seeing her recover and stand ready to fight again, Arnold paused before reengaging in the fight, looking at the hockey stick in his hands. Knowing of what destruction it was capable of, he inspected it to find various electronic components and circuitry, most of which he could not recognize its purpose or origin.
Neither is relevant to him at the moment, and more important is the clear and present danger of Reggie Rocket. Raising his commandeered hockey stick, Arnold watched Reggie start to skate towards him, prompting him to approach her as well, both enemies charging towards each other.
Their sticks collide as if the two were gladiators, bashing the middles of the sticks against each other rather than use the gravity-enhanced paddles. Reggie does so as not to have the sticks' gravitational abilities mix, and Arnold repeats her actions, sensing a similar urgency for that safety.
Even with Reggie having the familiarity with the weapon she wields, Arnold is still the superior fighter, as demonstrated with him managing to push her back. With only rollerblades on her feet, Reggie is unable to effectively stop him from continuing to push her, getting closer and closer to the end of the boardwalk.
Her salvation comes when Twister rejoins the fight, grabbing Arnold in a chokehold. Superhuman he may be, Arnold still requires air just as any other human, and grunts and chokes as his air supply is cut off. His fight with Reggie is put to a pause with his second opponent coming back for a second opportunity, saving his own teammate.
With Arnold now at her mercy, Reggie skated back forward to attack, raising up her hockey stick to strike him. Releasing his commandeered weapon, Arnold caught the hockey stick with one of his raised feet, balancing it on his toes. Grabbing Twister's arms around his own neck, Arnold threw him forward, sending him on a trajectory with Reggie.
The collision brings down both fighters, both falling to the ground in a tumble. Kicking the hockey stick up, Arnold caught it in his hands, once again wielding it to strike back. With both enemies down, he does not give them the chance to recover, raising the hockey stick to bring down on them both in a final blow.
Unable to make any other move other than to counter his swing with her own hockey stick, Reggie raised up as quickly as she could, swinging her own stick towards Arnold's, bringing the paddles of both weapons together, and putting a demonstration of what happens when their gravitational technology is put together.
The results are even stranger than before.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
When both paddles of the hockey sticks collide, two gravitational pulses fired against each other, the forces meet in a blast that blow both opponents back several feet from each other, and Twister, caught in the middle of the blast, thrown to the side, landing before those still occupying the Shore Shack.
The group all looked down on the defeated Twister with concern, who looked back at them with a smile attempting joy.
"You, uh... You guys think you can help break this up?" Twister groaned.
At opposite ends of the boardwalk, Arnold and Reggie laid back in defeat, neither able to move from the blast. Even with his accelerated healing factor, Arnold found the effort to get up a struggle, uneasily standing on his feet, spending most of his energy trying to figure out what had happened.
Reggie managed to get up soon after, struggling to balance herself on her rollerblades after what she had just gone through. Yet still, there is a force in her that does not let her surrender or give up, inherent in the Rocket family and apparent even in its most cool-headed member.
Skating forward yet again, Reggie watched Arnold start to step forward, both approaching the other with nothing but their bare fists to fight with.
The battle becomes a hindrance to the greater mission, and it is eventually broken up by the Thornberrys and the rest of the Rocket family. Tito, Noelani, and Twister hold back Reggie from fighting, while the Thornberrys all share the task of holding Arnold back together.
And his physical strength proves that to be a great challenge for the group, as well as his own mental abilities, the latter of which he flexes.
LET GO OF ME! Arnold shouted mentally.
The psychic message sent by the football head, made with a strength that did not know itself, was heard by everyone in the vicinity, spread to the Thornberrys and Rockets alike. The strength and volume of the message create a silent shock among the group, and grant Arnold the space he demanded.
Reggie Rocket no longer makes an attempt to fight, and the message itself reveals his true identity, instantly changing her demeanor.
"You're the Green Eye." Reggie gasped.
Arnold let out a sad sigh after the utterance of his former alter-ego, taking shame in it as though she mentioned a mistake he had made in life.
"I used to be." Arnold said.
-
What started as a tense standoff and battle becomes a more civil and amicable discussion at the dining tables of the Shore Shack, with the entirety of the group eating freshly-made burgers and fries. Reggie, Twister, Tito, and Noelani are all brought up to speed regarding the dire threat posed to the Earth...
...and, in turn, Dib, Arnold, and the Thornberrys are given more information about the Rockets and how they acquired their technology. Their conversation has given them more information on the basis of their anti-gravitational technology, regarding the origin of the ship that was reverse-engineered to create their weaponry.
To hear it explained to hi in such simplicity, Dib looked back with confusion when coming to a full understanding, unable to grapple with the reality.
"So, let me make sure I understand you correctly. You had access to a piece of alien technology, something capable of breaching the atmosphere and reaching distant planets with an ease that we haven't even been able to achieve by ourselves... and you used it to... build hovering skateboards?" Dib asked.
"Actually, the crazy millionaire skate park owner who tried to buy our city used it to build hoverboards. Sammy just figured out how to do it more intelligently." Reggie explained.
"Yeah, he also built us these cool add-ons for our hockey sticks, they work great." Twister added.
"We figured that much." Arnold dismissed.
"So, where's the ship now?" Dib asked.
"Safe." Reggie said.
"Safe where?"
"We'll show you after you finish your burgers, and ours. That fight made us hungry."
"Yeah, those karate kicks you did were pretty cool, man. If it wasn't for the fact that we were fighting each other, the fight would've been kind of fun." Twister said.
"Right." Arnold dismissed.
Chowing down on the rest of their hamburgers and fries with haste, their meal concluded, Dib stood up from the table first, ready to be shown the ship.
"Now, the ship. If you will." Dib said.
"No need to be rude. We'll show you." Reggie said.
Returning to the Comvee, the group brought along Reggie and Twister, making them their guides to the Irken ship. Their destination is a rental storage facility, and their drive is a mere 5 minutes away from the Shore Shack, making the detour short and quick, but important nonetheless.
As they arrived at their allotted storage unit, however, Arnold did not share the importance of the trip, questioning it still as they arrived.
"Tell me again why we're not getting the rest of your team to get this over with?" Arnold asked.
"This little detour is wrapping up another loose end in the yarn. Besides, you said you're not fully sold on the existence of aliens. If this is what they say it is, I'll give you proof." Dib said.
"Hang on a sec. You're a superhero who can telepathically sense people's emotions and stuff, but you don't believe aliens can exist?" Twister asked.
"I can believe aliens existing. His aliens existing, I can't, because this crackpot hasn't said a single believable thing since I met him."
"Well, if you won't take his word for it, you won't have to. Here's all the proof you need." Reggie said.
Using her key to unlock the door to the storage unit, Reggie pulled the garage door up, revealing the contents inside to the group.
What was revealed was a spaceship of unconventional design; the ship was shaped similar to the lure of an anglerfish, with a dark red color scheme. Most of its body was intact, but several pieces were removed from it, having been disassembled and examined inside out.
The Thornberrys looked on the ship with gasps and shocked eyes, but Arnold looked to it with elevated interest, showing it with only a single raised eyebrow.
"Are you convinced of my aliens now, Mr. Shortman?" Dib asked.
"Getting there. What's the story behind this ship?" Arnold asked.
"It belonged to another Irken who arrived on this planet with the intent to take it over. Her name was Tak."
"So, now, there's two of these things out there?"
"No. Tak we previously defeated, and she's off into space somewhere. She's not a problem. Zim is our primary concern."
"Alright. So... what? She left behind her ship,.and these skaters just happen to get their hands on it, and make hoverboards and gravity-defying hockey sticks?"
"No, that was Alex Gravity that got the hoverboards, we just did the rest." Twister corrected.
"Whatever."
Curious about alien life as he is all life, Nigel is the first to explore the ship, walking up to it and examining it up close in an excited, childlike manner.
"God save the queen! I'm no rocket scientist, but the design on this machine is outstanding! It maintains an organic shape and outline, keeping a very aerodynamic form. Almost like a sperm cell in its shape, it is, interesting design for an alien species." Nigel commented.
"That metal also doesn't match anything on the periodic table of elements, according to Sammy. At least, as far as he could determine. We don't exactly have a whole lab on our hands to test this thing, he's mainly been poking around inside it to come up with more ideas." Reggie explained.
"Yeah. I was kinda iffy getting close to that thing for awhile. This thing kinda reminds me from the Markers from Dead Space. I used to have nightmares about this thing carrying some kinda alien STD that was gonna make me into a zombie." Twister said.
"Is your friend normally this stupid? If so, please tell me I'm not gonna have to rely on this gnat-I.Q. stoner to help save the world, if this Irken nonsense checks out after all." Arnold sneered.
Twister responded by laying a passive-aggressive hand on his chest as he walked past him
"The hell's your problem, man? You know, no offense, man, but you seemed a lot friendlier from how people described you. We catch you in a bad mood or something?"
"Er, you'll have to get used to his current attitude, friend. He's been through quite a lot, and he's mostly interested in keeping to himself for the moment." Nigel interjected.
"Yeah. That means I'm not in the mood for dumb pot shots from stoners." Arnold said.
"Yo, sorry, man. No offense intended." Twister apologized.
"And you'll have to excuse Twister. He's not exactly what I call the brightest of bulbs. Just be thankful you're not dealing with his psycho dumber brother Lars." Reggie added.
The mention of Lars' name caused an eyebrow to raise on Arnold's face, recognizing it from a time not too far in the past.
"Wait a second. Lars Rodriguez? The psycho with the robot arm? That's your brother?" Arnold asked.
"You know him?" Twister asked.
"He was in Hillwood during the Fall. He was under 'Little' Nicky at the beginning, then fell under The Freak, until he eventually switched sides and followed us. To his credit, he helped out in a couple of big fights when we needed him."
"Really? Never took Lars to be the heroic type at all."
"He wasn't. He was just less bad than what we were up against. He was still an asshole."
"Sounds about right. What happened to him?"
"Dead. He was on Hillwood when it got nuked. I'd say sorry for your loss, but I already know you don't care. But you do feel a little disappointed."
"He killed my best friend's dad. Which kinda made him like a dad to me, too. I just know Otto would've liked to have seen Lars get blasted to shit, and he won't be too happy to know he's gone."
Dib cleared his throat, putting the conversation to an end to confer on more serious matters.
"If it's all the same to you, may we please move on? We've got several more teammates to recruit before we get to Zim. Mr. Shortman, you said this was evidence enough?" Dib asked.
"For now." Arnold said.
"Good. Mr. Thornberry, is there any way we can bring this along with us?"
"Hmm? Er, that'd be a question for Marianne. Dearie? Any chance we could bring the alien ship along?" Nigel asked.
"No chance. That thing's way too big to fit in the Comvee, and we've got plenty more passengers incoming." Marianne said.
"Fine. We'll have to come back for this another time." Dib said.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you mean, 'come back for this'? This is ours." Reggie said.
"No. It belongs to Membrane Labs, and it was stolen. That means you are sitting on stolen property, which is punishable by law."
"It doesn't belong to you either, asshole. You said yourself it belonged to an alien that's not here anymore. That means it's ours, finders keepers." Twister said.
"What are you, 5? Who plays finders keepers with alien technology?"
"I don't care who this thing belongs to. Right now, I'm more concerned with making sure Curly is gone forever. You all can fight over this thing another time." Arnold said.
The fight was snuffed out before it could begin, staving off a larger argument for later to focus on the greater priority.
"He's right. Where's Otto now?" Dib asked.
"Hawaii. Testing new stuff with Sammy." Reggie said.
"Alright. You'll help us find him."
"What? First you want to steal our stuff, now you wanna drag us out on your bullshit mission? Who do you think you are?"
"Listen. I don't like this guy anymore than you do. He has a knack for pissing people off. But if there's even a slim chance of what he's saying is possible, and he says we need you, then we need you." Arnold interjected.
"And what if what he's saying isn't true? Yeah, there's an alien ship, but that doesn't prove anything about time travel or the future or anything else."
"What I know for certain is that the reason behind this supposed future is somebody who single-handedly destroyed my entire city and killed everyone in it in less than two months. On that risk alone, I can't ignore the threat. And... as much as I'd like to just go home in the jungle... I need help. I can't let another Hillwood happen again."
Reggie stood in contemplation at Arnold's humble request, noting the sincerity within it, and taking his own status as a former famous superhero into account. In her indecisiveness, Reggie turned to Twister for his input, receiving a shrug that communicated the age-old excuse for any insane decision:
'Why not?'
"It's the Green Eye. It's gonna be fun time no matter what." Twister said.
Accepting the rationalization given, Reggie turned back to Arnold to give her reply.
"Alright, we're in. But only 'cause it's you. We gotta get to the airport pretty soon, though." Reggie said.
"Whatever for?" Nigel asked.
"We gotta go get Otto and Sammy, then come right back to your R.V. to get a move on. It's gonna be almost a full days' worth of flights."
"Or a few hours' drive." Marianne said.
Questioning the words that came to her ears in a confused squint, Reggie repeated the final word she heard in an inquiry to confirm she heard it correctly.
"'Drive'?" Reggie asked.
Enthusiastically running to the driver's seat, Donnie pressed the switch on the Comvee to convert the vehicle to its aquatic mode. In response to the electronic command, an inflatable raft appeared around the Comvee, with a boat's rudder coming down the back.
Seeing the vehicle transform in real time, Reggie and Twister looked to it with a shared sense of amazement.
"We gotta get ourselves one of those." Twister said.
-
In the city of Madison, Wisconsin, there rests a skyscraper belonging to a company known as VladCo, owned and operated by multimillionarire Vlad Masters. It it a tower that lords over all the city, its height surpassing the once-tallest building in the city, and that title formerly belonging to the state capitol.
For all intents and purposes, VladCo tower may as well serve as the state capitol, as it serves as one of the largest businesses in the U.S., and primary job creator for the city. Money is power in American politics, and none has surpassed more wealth and power than Vlad Masters.
In another life, he was known as a villain, intent only on getting more money and power, and the woman who married his once best friend, living a life spent on coveting.
In this life, he has been given a second chance, reborn through nothing short of a dream, and uses his power and money more responsibly and benevolently.
At this moment in time, however, he spends his efforts working on a personal project, burying his head in a piece of paper and snuggling up with a pencil while humming along to his work. What he currently works on, he wishes for no one to see, but what he draws, he considers to be very important, and believes it will serve as a necessary step to his path of redemption.
He does not consider himself an artist, and has only taken elementary courses on how to perfect his vision, but his determination is undoubtedly that of a true artist's. Nonetheless, it does not serve to clarify the vision he has in his mind, and his draft only ends with frustration, with his hums turning to a discontent grunt.
"No." Vlad groaned.
Crumpling up the paper, Vlad threw it in a wastebasket, damning it to purgatory with several other unsatisfactory drafts.
Just as the paper fell in the wastebasket, the door to his office opened, with Rhonda stepping in. Acting as his personal secretary rather than apprentice ghost hunter, her attire is that of an expensive suit and tie, keeping up her own standards for fashion, but not feeling feminine enough for a dress.
"I think Greenpeace is gonna start boycotting us if you keep trashing all that paper." Rhonda snarked.
"It all goes to the recycling plant, they'll have nothing to complain about." Vlad said.
"You working on something personal, or business?"
"A little bit of both."
Rhonda reached for the wastebin, trying to inspect the wasted paper to see what he had drawn...
"Mmm-mmm." Vlad declined.
...but, hearing Vlad refuse to let her see his wasted efforts, Rhonda held her hand up, submitting to his wishes.
"So, what have you got for me? An update on our deal in Singapore?" Vlad asked.
"No, this is something... 'second job' related." Rhonda said.
"We're not supposed to discuss that here unless it's very important."
"It is."
"Tell me."
Rhonda laid a folder on Vlad's desk, leading him to pick it up and open it, seeing details on a report from the United States Customs' office.
"This was from yesterday. You ever see Nigel Thornberry's Wild World?" Rhonda asked.
"Love that show. Nigel Thornberry's a great host, and he's got a great family." Vlad said.
"He had an episode taking place in San Lorenzo, and, after stopping somewhere on the way to their next location, they came right back, and started heading for California."
"Maybe they forgot a cell phone and went back for it."
"While crossing the U.S. border, Customs officers identified a couple of guests that were with them, but aren't part of the show or Thornberry family."
Vlad flipped through the folder to find picture of the two individuals Rhonda spoke of, taking greater concern when recognizing them.
"Dib Membrane, son of Dr. Angel Membrana, better known as Professor Membrane... and Arnold Shortman." Rhonda said.
Vlad looked back and forth at the folder and Rhonda, thinking carefully on the implications of the new information given to him.
"Keep a close eye on them." Vlad said.
Nodding in compliance, Rhonda left the office to attend to her other duties, leaving Vlad to himself.
Vlad Masters is well aware of Arnold Shortman, and he knows that he has been in a self-imposed exile for several months following the Fall of Hillwood. What he does not know is why Arnold has chosen to leave now, and accompanies the Thornberrys on a trip across the country, or where Dib Membrane fits into the clockwork.
Looking in the sky through his office window, Vlad carefully pondered on what might come next.
Chapter 12: Chapter 10: Invaders From Irk, Part 3
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 10: INVADERS FROM IRK, PART 3
Childhood is a time when possibility is absolutely endless.
A human mind that has not yet reached maturity makes it most significant memories at the pre-pubescent years, subject to influences that could alter its perception of the world and spark interests that could lead to greater passions, forming into an adult mind more than capable of indulging in those passions and giving greater creations to the world to make it better.
Lincoln Loud has had the first and most important when he received his first comic book as a baby, which has led him to become the boy he is today.
He has engrossed himself in comic books and superheroes, one of the few of his generation that still does so, and had become so enamored with them that he decided, over a variety of different factors, to become one. He has done much good in his time as a hero, sparing his town from a conspiracy that would have served to bleed it dry of its money and resources...
...but, now that his 15 minutes of fame are up, and he has hung up his cape, he is without a goal, and does not know what to do with his life.
What passes as a life now is that of a celebrity's, having many appearances on various TV shows and podcasts to keep his name in the public consciousness. This brings him in a good amount of money, more than a child his age would normally accumulate, but it does not fill the void in his heart that heroism has left in it.
Laying back on his bed, he looked to his ceiling in contemplation, playing out silent fantasies in his head as he craved for action, adventure, and danger that he once faced as Ace Savvy. A playing card tumbles between his fingers, lightly charged with energy, and it flies back and forth between his hands, sending its charge back and forth in and out of his body with each revolution, never coming into contact with an enemy.
Lincoln is alone and without any company, but that changes with the door to his room opening, and Luna Loud, one of his elder sisters, being the one to enter.
"Hey, brah, you alright?" Luna asked.
"You didn't knock." Lincoln said.
"Oh, sorry, Linc. You got a call on the house phone, it's Ryan. He says he's trying to set you up for an action figure line, and you weren't picking up his calls."
"I'm not in the mood to deal with it. Let him do whatever he wants."
"What's wrong? Still upset about that thing with Ronnie Anne and Stella? I mean, I get it, but... C'mon, man. Livin' it up while she's goin' down? You gotta take some pride in that."
"It's not that, Luna."
"Well, what's wrong, then?"
Lincoln gave no reply; Luna, in response, sat herself on his bed, making herself available for a heart-to-heart with her brother.
"C'mon, little bro. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more. Just tell me what's on your mind." Luna said.
"Ah, it's just... Don't worry about it, you wouldn't understand, anyway." Lincoln groaned.
"Of course I would. You're my brother, Lincoln, and I'm your sister. Out of 9 more, but, still. I've always been there for you, haven't I?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"So, what's wrong?"
"Well... You remember before the whole superhero thing started, and I talked to you about me not finding my special talent?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, well, I found it."
"You did? That's awesome, man. What is it?"
"Take a guess."
Luna thought for a brief period before responding, pondering on what her brother could mean, before coming to a more somber realization with his implication.
"Oh... You mean... you know, being a superhero?" Luna asked.
"Yeah." Lincoln groaned.
"Okay, then what's wrong?"
"What's wrong? What's wrong is that I can't do it anymore. I can't fight bad guys anymore or save the day like I used to."
"Uh, brah, no offense, but you totally got your butt kicked a whole lotta times, too... and, uh... you didn't really always save the day. You kinda screwed up a few times. I hate to say it, but I'm just keeping it real."
"So? You screw up with your music sometimes, would you give up music because of a few mistakes?"
"Of course not, but my music ain't also responsible for people's lives."
"Maybe not... but... when I was doing it right, when I was fighting the bad guys and winning, I felt great doing it. I felt like I was actually good at something. Yeah, maybe I got a few things wrong this time around, but I can learn from my mistakes and get it right. But I can't be a hero anymore. There's no bad guys left to fight. The ride's all over."
"But you got a great thing going now, being a big celebrity, right? And you got me those sweet front-row seat tickets to SMOOCH because of it."
"Yeah, like some burned-out rockstar. Some hero I am. I mean, what? I talk bullshit with a few podcasters, share some gossip about Stella and Ronnie Anne with the tabloids, and for what? What am I actually doing to contribute to society in a positive way?"
"You've giving them some entertainment. That's always good, right? Just like comic books."
"Comic books do a lot more than entertain. They give us heroes that we can live up to, and learn from, to be better people in our daily lives. It's like... almost like a religion, in a way. And all I feel like is a televangelist scamming people, saying nothing but: 'Send Me Your Money'."
"Harsh, but good Suicidal Tendencies reference."
Luna sat closer to Lincoln on the bed, holding him in a side-hug to relieve his discomfort with a kind gesture.
"Well, look at it this way, Linc: How many times have you seen superheroes not fighting bad guys in a comic?" Luna asked.
"Justice League International. Major Bummer. Quantum and Woody. Empowered. Ambush Bug. Flaming Carrot Comics. Megaton Man. Normalman-" Lincoln listed.
"Okay, okay, let me rephrase that: Is there a superhero who doesn't have any bad guys at all?"
"Uh... No. Not that I can think of."
"And why do you think that is?"
"Because a superhero needs a bad guy to fight. Otherwise, there's nothing for him to do."
"Just like all the other people who tried to be superheroes, right?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"And you beat your bad guy, didn't you?"
"You bet your ass I did."
"But there's no other bad guys to fight right now. That means your job's done."
"Yeah..."
"But that doesn't mean you're not a superhero anymore. It just means you aren't needed right now."
"Oh, I'm not needed, that's good to know."
"I don't mean like that, dude. Look, I love music, right?"
"Yeah."
"But I'm not playing music all the time, am I?"
"It seems like it."
"Heh. I wish, but I'm not. I got other things to do, like working through all my college applications. But my music's something special. If I was doing it all the time, then it wouldn't be as special, now, wouldn't it?"
"I guess not."
"So that doesn't mean my music isn't ever needed or it's worthless. That just means it's not 'music time' right now. Just like we don't need a superhero to save us right now, so it's not 'superhero time' right now. So, you'll have your time to shine again, Linc, you just gotta wait until your time comes again."
"But when is that gonna be?"
"I don't know, man. But what I do know is, you got a great heart, and, when the time ever comes again to be Ace Savvy, I know you're gonna be right there to do the job, and you're gonna do it great, just like you did last time."
The kind words of his sister warmed Lincoln's heart to movement, moving the rest of his body to reach out and grab her for a hug. Luna, always loving and kind to her younger brother, grabbing him back to reciprocate the hug, sharing a tender embrace that helped stave off his frustrations.
"Thanks, Luna. I guess this is the big pep talk that the hero always gets, from the the people who still support him." Lincoln said.
"Actually, I just wanted an excuse to step away for a bit. I have to make sure Leni doesn't flunk high school again." Luna joked.
The two laughed at the joke, sharing levity from the serious moment that now passed them by.
"Tell you what, brah, why don't you come give me a hand? Two brains are better than one, and that's two more that Leni sure could use on her studies right now." Luna said.
"I don't know how much help I'll be, but sure." Lincoln said.
"We're still trying to work through language arts, maybe that comic book mind of yours might come in handy."
Departing from his room with Luna, Lincoln is given a distraction from his troubles and a glimmer of hope away from them, off to help his half-witted sister hopefully pass her next test and make her way through high school to head to college. It is still merely a distraction that this serves, but Luna's words have nurtured the drive to be a hero in Lincoln once again, craving the glory and excitement he once felt.
And all the more, he is ready to seize his opportunity.
-
The Pacific Ocean is the largest body of water on planet Earth, containing exactly half of the water in the entire world at a percentage of 50.1. It was named by the Portugese explorer Ferdinand Magellan during one of many Spanish voyages, calling it the 'peaceful sea'.
In more ways than one, this name has become more than an accurate description of the body of water.
The ocean itself is known for having the calmest waters on the planet, containing far less storms than the Atlantic Ocean, for which Magellan named the ocean, but the purpose of his voyage was for trade, which has been maintained by several nations across the Earth, keeping reasonable diplomatic terms with one another in the name of securing much-needed goods.
For now, it serves as a peaceful cruise for the Thornberrys, who ride across the ocean in their omniterrestrial mobile home, the Comvee. Sent on a journey against their own will by a paranoid conspiracy theorist by the name of Dib Membrame, also the son of one of the richest and most powerful men in the world, they are off to acquire new passengers, already having more in their home.
Two of the newest members aboard their journey are Reggie Rocket and Maurice 'Twister' Rodriguez, half of the four members of the skating group that calls itself Rocket Power. Having acquired an alien spaceship belonging to the Irken Empire, they have reverse-engineered the technology to create antigraviational weapons, appropriating it on sports equipment.
The first they have picked up is Arnold Shortman, formerly known as the Green Eye. He has come on this trip not by anything he would call his own will, but instead on a mission of his own to find closure to a potential loose end in his life. The mission is one he feels as though he has to do, but he does not feel obligated to like it.
Continuing to seclude himself from the rest of the group, Arnold was content to sit atop the Comvee as it sailed across the ocean, filling his ears with the serene sounds of the sea and the breeze flowing in the air, leaving a smell and taste of salt on his nose and his tongue.
His eyes and hands do not partake in the surroundings of the water around him, but instead focus on the ring that rested in his hands. Lightly does he still caress it, keeping his thoughts on what it meant, what life he would have led if he had fulfilled its purpose and carried out the ceremony behind it with the woman he loved.
However, those thoughts soon were stolen from him as the ring was swiped from his hand, startling him out of his daydream. Looking back to see the thief of the ring, he saw Donnie Thornberry holding it, victoriously jumping up and down while grabbing onto his shorts.
"What the-?!" Arnold stammered.
"Yagabodigity-yagabodigity-yagabodigity-whee-whee-whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo! My ring! It's my ring now!" Donnie jabbered.
Running along the top of the Comvee, Donnie invoked Arnold's wrath as he chased back after him, dedicated to get his ring back.
"Hey! Get back here!" Arnold shouted.
Successfully getting Arnold to get up and pursue him, Donnie continuously ran back and forth on the Comvee, enacting what he saw as a mere game as he once played, whether she was willing to or not, with his elder sister Debbie Thornberry. His childish nature has not left his side, and his naughty desire for fun antics are at play once again.
Arnold, however, is not Debbie Thornberry, and does not share what little patience she had for her brother, especially not with the security of his ring at stake. His pursuit of Donnie is more vicious and dedicated, and his pursuit is not treated as a fun game as Donnie would have liked...
...but ends with a tackle to the ground, pinning Donnie down, yet it is a result that he enjoys.
"Ooh! You like to play rough, huh? Debbie never went this far." Donnie laughed.
"Give me back my ring, you little son of a bitch!" Arnold growled.
Snatching the ring away from Donnie, Arnold walked back to the edge of the Comvee, seating himself as he once was to return to his state of meditation. The sudden and angry end to his attempt at play left Donnie feeling shocked and unhappy, slowly walking back up to Arnold in apology.
"Hey, man, I was just kidding around. I used to mess with my big sister Debbie all the time." Donnie said.
"I'm not your sister. And I'm not in the mood for playing. And I especially don't want anyone touching my ring." Arnold said.
The two sat in an awkward silence, brought about by Arnold disregarding Donnie, with the latter once again trying to keep the mood lively.
"I, uh, heard about your parents. I'm sorry." Donnie said.
"First, you steal my ring and run around like a dipshit. Now, you bring up my dead parents. You're a real ace at conversation, aren't you?" Arnold snarked.
"In all honesty, I didn't start talking in full sentences until I was about 12. But I just wanted to say, uh... Well, why are you up here, all by yourself?"
"Why are you up here bothering me?"
"Because it ain't good to be just sitting up here by yourself, man. There's a lot of people here that'd love to hang out with you."
"Too bad. I'm staying here."
Once again did the air go cold with silence, and Donnie once again was forced to take a more somber tone, attempting to reach out to Arnold.
"I wanted to say sorry about your parents because, well... I kinda lost my parents, too." Donnie said.
"What are you talking about? They're down below." Arnold said.
"No, I mean... My birth parents. I was adopted."
Arnold seemed to at last take some interest in Donnie's story, facing him in attention rather than turn away. Taking his eye contact as a signal of sympathy and openness, Donnie continued on with his story, hoping to find some connection with the former superhero.
The commotion that occurred previously led Nigel Thornberry to climb up and investigate, but stopped when he saw the two sitting together, keeping himself hidden just below the entry to the roof. Staying low and scarce, he carefully observed the two young men, watching in anticipation to see them bond.
"My, uh... My birth parents were killed by poachers in Borneo. They were naturalists that were studying orangutans, trying to talk to them, teaching them sign language. The orangutans took me in, and raised me like I was one of their own. It wasn't until dad and the gang showed up and took me in. I've always had that orangutan vibe in me, that's where my sense of humor and energy comes from. So, uh, if that helps explains the ring thing, there you go." Donnie explained.
"You call Nigel 'dad'." Arnold noted.
"Of course. He is my dad, after all."
"I know. But you still miss your birth parents, don't you?"
Donnie stayed silent before nodding in response, somberly answering Arnold's question.
"Yeah. I wish I'd gotten to know them. But I still love my dad and mom and sisters. and my cousin and brother-in-law. Especially since we make a good band." Donnie said.
"Well, I only got to know mine a little. I was raised by my grandparents for most of my life. They went off in the jungles of San Lorenzo and didn't come back. It wasn't until years later that I found them and brought them home. And only after that, I left a few months in back to San Lorenzo, and came back to get another year out of them. So, that's about a little over a year that I actually, really got to know my parents before they died." Arnold said.
"Man. That's really unfair. I'm sorry."
"Take it from somebody who screwed things up in the worst way possible: You didn't know your first parents? That also means you didn't have the chance to hurt them before they died on you. Ignorance is bliss."
"Hey, hey, whoa, man, don't talk like that. The Green Eye wouldn't say anything like that."
"I'm not the Green Eye anymore."
"Sure you are. Once a superhero, always a superhero, right? Isn't that what the code is? C'mon, man, don't you know how many people look up to you? Everyone in the Comvee sure does. And... Well, it's not everyday you meet someone else that was also raised in the jungle. You're really cooler than you think."
"The boy's quite right, Arnold. You are more important than you think." Nigel added.
Stepping up from the roof entry, Nigel walked over to Arnold and Donnie, putting his arms around their shoulders.
"And most certainly shouldn't ever dismiss the time you had with your parents like that. Your father was an anthropologist, you know. That's not a field where you find the most selfish of people. You need a big heart to be in that line of work, and it most certainly had you in it. Your mother, too, if he picked them as good as he knew them." Nigel said.
"There's a difference between knowing you're loved, and knowing if you deserve it or not. Did you say to them that you should've left them to rot in San Lorenzo?" Arnold asked.
Nigel and Donnie looked to Arnold with distressed looks, unable to believe that he would say such a thing to his own parents.
"Egad, no, boy. Why, whatever would make you say something so horrid like that?" Nigel asked.
"We had a fight. They lied to me because... because they were helping someone else that I cared about. And telling me the truth meant they would've broken that person's trust, too. But what the lie was, after finding it out, just tore me apart. They told me that I also made plenty of mistakes, too, and reminded me of what I lost as a result. And they were right." Arnold said.
Silence returned once more with a vengeance, with Nigel trying to think of a way to reassure him, only for his thought process to be interrupted by the sound of dolphins chirping. All three atop the Comvee turned to look at the porpoises passing by the vehicle, seeing them swim by in a pod.
In seeing the dolphins, however, Nigel's nature-oriented nature found a way to reach Arnold, doing so in his own way.
"You see those there, lads? Those are Tursiops truncatus, the bottlenose dolphin. That looks like a full pod of them, passing through these waters just like us." Nigel said.
With Nigel's attention put towards the waters and the mammals currently swimming in it, Arnold's attention went towards the pocket on his shirt, holding the elixir given to him by Luz to eliminate the threat of Curly. The thought of suicide has taken root once he was made aware of the elixir, and that has prompted Nigel to commandeer it to prevent him from doing any self harm.
But now provided a pristine opportunity to take it for himself, which Arnold proceeded to do by stealthily reaching for his pocket.
"The most interesting thing about bottlenose dolphins, lads, is about how they protect their young. All species have a desire to reproduce and spread their seed, and many care for their young at a crucial developmental stage, but none do it so closely as mammals. Dolphins, much like humans, are social creatures, who cooperate and communicate with one another. In the ocean, they face several predatory threats all around, such as sharks and orcas. In order to protect against these threats, the pod often congregates around the offspring, acting as a protective shield." Nigel explained.
Interested only in obtaining the elixir, Arnold initially paid no mind to Nigel's narration, blocking it out...
...but his calming voice and wisely choice of words were charismatic factors that demanded his attention, and his explanation of the bottlenose dolphin's protective habits gave him a reminder of the demise of his own parents, how they died in the destruction of the Sunset Arms Boarding House...
...how they fought to save him from the burning building, giving their lives for his.
"If any predator comes near the pod, they will fight to defend their young, to the death if need be. To me, this is one of the most beautiful instincts of parental protection that an animal can offer. Not to toot my own horn, but I've acted in many dangerous ways that called on my duties as a father. More often than not, it was for Eliza. But I'll tell you this: I love all of my family. Even if Eliza gets herself into trouble, I'll be there for her, and there's nothing she or anyone else in this family could do to lose my love. So no matter what you think your parents thought of you, Arnold, you remember that they loved you, no matter what." Nigel said.
The kind words of Nigel Thornberry struck into Arnold's heart, and took away the desire for death that he felt for but a moment, making him remember the times he had with them, brief as they may have seemed, and recollect them with warmth and joy. A sigh comes from his mouth, with his eyes slowly blinking as he looked down, missing them even more than before.
Regardless of his sadness, the happiness his parents brought him made him abandon taking the elixir, and he retracted his hand, leaving the vial in Nigel's pocket.
"Yeah. I guess you're right." Arnold sighed.
"Of course I am, lad. If there's two things I know best, it's dads, and life. And I've seen plenty forms of it around the world and all its beauty." Nigel said.
Letting in the ocean breeze through his large nostrils, Nigel Thornberry let out a relieved sigh, basking in the pleasant feeling that the sea gave.
"Ah, what a beauty the open sea is. Imagine, if were in different times, we would be adventurers, sailing the seven seas, perhaps in search of buried treasure, like old Long John Silver and Jim Hawkins in Treasure Island." Nigel sighed.
"Last I checked, Long John Silver was the bad guy." Arnold joked.
"True, but I feel like he almost passed as the protagonist, the charisma he put out through his parts of the book. Lively enough you could put him among a group of animated puppets, and he'd blend right in, I think that'd work great as a film adaptation."
"I wouldn't know. I'm not much of a reader." Donnie joked.
The setting calmed down as peacefully as the ocean itself, and the three relaxed atop the Comvee for much of the trip, enjoying the scenery coming with the trip.
-
Hawaii is not only the last of the territories admitted into the United States as a state, made as recent as 1959, but it also is the only state that is not connected to any part of the mainland of North America, resting on its own in the Pacific Ocean as a series of islands.
The largest of these is an island also named Hawai'i, also referred to as Moku o Keawe in the native Hawaiian language, translating to 'The Bearer' or 'Southern Cross', in reference to a lost native chief. Its most largest town is Hilo; it is not a city in that it has its own local government, but a single territory out of many under Hawaii County, also the home of county seat.
It is here that the Comvee makes landfall from the Pacific Ocean, with the amphibious raft and rudders retracting into the mobile home as it began driving into the sandy beaches, turning into the roads to join the other vehicles on the road. Continuing its drive towards its destination, the change in terrain proves to be no hinderance to the Comvee, a testament to its build and equipment after decades of service.
Entering another state that offered great sights to the passengers, the majority took to the windows to observe their surroundings.
What they see is the bluest of skies above their heads, matching only the blue seas that they just drove out from. The metropolitan areas are simple, resembling more a foreign country in the Carribean in the typical Americana that most are used to, opening a window into a corner of the United States rarely seen aside from tourism.
The Thornberry family are the most astounded to see it, but Reggie and Twister are familiar with it all, though they are no less enjoying the sight.
"The sight of Hawaii never gets old." Twister said.
"You can say that again." Reggie said.
"The sight of Hawaii never gets old."
"Twister, that was a figure of speech."
"Oh, sorry."
The drive is enjoyed by many, but it is not so much the case for Marianne Thornberry, who has grown tired from driving, and requires a rest.
"Ooh, I'm starting to feel sore... Tyler, would you come up here and take the wheel?" Marianne asked.
"Sure, Aunt Marianne." Tyler said.
Given a break from driving, Marianne, setting the Comvee to cruise control, unbuckled her seat belt and stood up to allow Tyler take her seat and buckle up, deactivating cruise control to drive manually, seamlessly transitioning between two different drivers without a hindrance in their quest.
Staying on her feet, Marianne allowed herself a chance to move about the Comvee, stretching her body as she enjoyed the sights of Hawaii.
"Oh, Nigel, this is just beautiful. I can't recall the last time we were in Hawaii together." Marianne said.
"I do, dearie. It was when we were filming the Branta sandvicensis, or, the Hawaiian goose, referred to as the nene by the locals." Nigel said.
"I don't think I've ever seen skies that clear before." Shane said.
"I've seen Hawaii once, a long time ago. It was another time I had help some animals." Eliza said.
"Oh, really? What'd you do last time?"
"I, uh, accidentally dropped a boom box into the ocean, and it messed with the whales we were filming as they were trying to sing to each other. I had to go in and get it."
"Hmph. For someone who says they love helping animals and can talk to them, you apparently do a lot more harm to animals than good, don't you?" Arnold snarked.
The quip from Arnold brought angered sneers from all but one of the passengers, with the exception being Eliza, taking self-reflection at his words.
"Yeah. I kinda did. But I was a kid, I didn't really know any better. I mean, you've got powers, too, right?" Eliza asked.
"I had training. Apparently the guy who stuck you with your powers didn't give you any kind of instruction manual, didn't he?"
"Not really. But I always made up for my mistakes."
"How cute. And what exactly did your mistakes include? Putting everything back the way it was?"
"Uh... Yeah. That's pretty much it."
"Maybe that's a lesson in and of itself."
"Huh?"
"In trying to help the world out, you only made it worse."
Eliza's self-reflection now brought about a lowered sense of self-esteem, looking down in shame as she awkwardly rubbed her arm.
"Well... I... I didn't think it would..." Eliza stammered.
"No, no, I get it. I understand completely. The old childish thought that you can make the whole world better. Especially when you're smarter than everyone else, when you know more than them, all the more obvious when everyone under you that you're trying to help are just animals, right?" Arnold asked.
"Um..."
"That's the same mistake I made. At least, now, you're older and wiser. The world's all the better if you just leave it alone, let it rot by itself. Maybe that's a little lesson to learn about the world: It's going to all go to shit, no matter what. Everything we do to it just speeds up the process. Maybe humans are just nature's form of accelerationism. We just exist to make the planet worse. So, welcome to the club, kid."
The nihilism expressed by Arnold now brought Eliza even lower in mood, noticeable by the rest of the Thornberrys, and mostly by Shane. Devoted to his wife, and looking up to the image of the Green Eye, he can stomach the words out from Arnold no longer, and spoke up in protest.
"Alright, that's enough. We don't need to hear that crap anymore." Shane said.
"Just sharing a word to the not-so-wise. I learned from experience so you don't have to." Arnold said.
"Well, thanks, but no thanks. Last I checked, the Green Eye was supposed to be somebody people could look up to. Now, all I see is a joke."
"And I thought I told you I'm not the Green Eye anymore."
"I don't care what you are now. You treat my wife like that again, I'm gonna kick your ass off the Comvee. You understand?"
"Shoulderblade."
"...Huh?"
"You're going to try to punch me in the face. I'm going to catch your fist, twist your arm, just to the point before it breaks, and hold you down until your shoulderblade hurts."
"Is that a threat?"
"Ignoring the fact that you just threatened me a second ago, no. People think I'm telepathic, but the truth is that I just see things faster than any other human being. I can see a little bit of the past and the future, just by sensing what was there or how it's going to move. I'd also tell you that you can prevent that just by swallowing your pride, but we both already know what you're gonna do."
Shane responded by throwing a punch to Arnold's face, which he quickly caught as predicted, twisting his arm to leave Shane at his mercy in fulfillment of his warning. As Shane laid forward, groaning in pain, the action drew the response from the rest of the Thornberry family and two members of Rocket Power, intervening to break up the fight.
"Let him go, son. Let him go!" Nigel ordered.
Once fully making his strength established, Arnold released Shane, sending him into the arms of Eliza to seek shelter and comfort from his injury. Having hurt a member of the Thornberry family, Arnold's action drew disgust from the members of the Comvee, even from the new additions of Reggie and Twister.
Marianne's disgust came with anger, fully expressed by shouting at Arnold.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Marianne yelled.
"You saw him. He threw the first punch. I warned him." Arnold said.
Infuriated with Arnold injuring her son-in-law, Marianne grabbed him by the hand, dragging him to the bedroom for further discipline, with Nigel tagging along.
"Marianne, what are you doing?" Nigel asked.
"We tried it your way, Nigel. Now, we do it my way." Marianne smoldered.
Dragging Arnold into the master bedroom, Marianne slammed the door, locking the three together for a private conversation away from the others.
"Alright. Don't you play games with us. Do you honestly think that low of people? Are you trying to tell me that you really gave up on the human race?" Marianne asked.
"It was self-defense, he threw the first punch!" Arnold deflected.
"Shut up! Yes or no, do you really not care anymore?!"
"I care enough to make sure Curly's dead for good!"
"WILL YOU ANSWER THE GODDAMN QUESTION?!"
"WELL, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO HEAR, LADY?! That I saw nothing but the worst that humanity has to offer, but I also had to feel it, feeling the exact pleasure they all got as they did the most horrible things you can imagine?! Have you ever seen an army of neo-Nazis wipe out entire families without any sympathy? Or Christian terrorists raping little girls to make them their wives?! Or how about cannibal warlords eating kids and babies ALIVE?! Knowing what drove them to those actions, what all the feelings you get out of that are, and how much pleasure you can feel from it? What kind of sickness is in other people's heads when you're trying to save them?!"
Arnold's traumatized response brought horror and sympathy to Marianne's angered face, her emotions conflicting at what thoughts existed in his head. Nigel's face was one containing no anger whatsoever, but instead the utmost sympathy, attempting to hold back any potential tears.
"All of that garbage, I was surrounded by for over a month. All while I was forced to watch almost every single person I knew and loved die, the few people who didn't, I pushed away, and my city get completely wiped off the face of the Earth. A city of people I knew and grew up with, I watched them all become monsters. I can't get it out of my head. Every single day, it weighs down my brain, and I can't get a good night's sleep, even if I wanted to. So you tell me: If you were in my shoes, wouldn't you try to do whatever you could to get it out of your head?" Arnold asked.
Another moment of contemplative silence is given to the Thornberry parents to understand Arnold's position, gaining more understanding and sympathy for his plight.
"Do you wanna know what's really funny, though? I could've gotten my hands on that elixir and gotten my little 'undo' button to my powers, and maybe made it all stop. But I didn't. You wanna know why? I can't tell you why, because I don't know, either. Maybe it's from hearing your husband talk for a bit, he got me to forget about it all for a moment. Maybe a little distraction here and there can make me forget for a bit, but not forever. I want it gone forever." Arnold said.
Reaching into Nigel's shirt pocket, Marianne removed the vial of Spirit Master antidote from it, walking up to Arnold with it.
"Marianne, what are you doing?" Nigel asked.
Marianne then handed it to Arnold, prompting him to take it.
"Alright, then. If you want to take it and throw in the towel, here's your chance. No excuses to get out of it." Mairanne said.
Swiping the vial away, Arnold popped the cork to the glass, opening it.
"You really shouldn't tempt me. I will drink it. That's all I've wanted since I knew this existed." Arnold said.
"Then stop talking about it. Do it if you mean it." Marianne scowled.
Without a beat to miss, Arnold downed the elixir in a single gulp, consuming its contents and damning away his own powers.
The sudden swig of the elixir brought Marianne's look of anger to shock and regret, looking back at Arnold with widened eyes that expressed regret and shame. The emotions are picked up by Arnold, who repeated her own thought process back to her to show the error of her ways.
"Yeah, I figured out your game. You thought a little reverse psychology would make me realize that it's not worth giving up my powers, or I'd find a reason to keep them. Now, you're feeling pretty stupid and angry at yourself for what you did, thinking you just condemned the world to death, or took away one of its idols. Nice try. I still got what I want." Arnold said.
But, upon saying his words out loud, Arnold realized that his powers were not gone, changing his smug, victorious look for a look of confused anger.
"I can still read you. Why can I still read you?" Arnold asked.
"Because that wasn't the elixir, my boy. That was pink lemonade." Nigel said.
Looking back to the vial, Arnold took a remaining drop and tasted it, confirming it to be the sweetened beverage.
"I had a feeling you might try that, and took a precautionary measure. I transferred the vial's contents into something else, and cleaned out that vial for good measure. If not for to make sure this is given to the correct person, I don't want to see someone throw away a gift they were given." Nigel said.
"A gift? Is that really what you think this is, after all I told you?" Arnold asked.
"Oppenheimer had a gift for science. It may have given us the atomic bomb, but he had a gift nonetheless, and it could have been put to better use. One mistake you made is not enough to justify throwing out the baby with the bathwater."
"Where's the real elixir?"
"It's safe."
"Safe where?"
"Where I can get it when we need it. But until then, I will be keeping it well-hidden. I know that you can only read emotions, not truly read minds, so I'm guessing that means you won't be able to tell where I put it."
Arnold sneered back at Nigel, seeing his protective habits as a betrayal.
"You can be mad at me all you want, son, but I'm not going to let you do this to yourself. You are far too important to the world. And you would've been not only throwing away your powers, but a person that the entire world looks up to. Are you really selfish enough to steal from the world?" Nigel asked.
Continuing to scowl at Nigel, Arnold gave no answer, instead deflecting in an attempt to show dominance.
"I'm hungry. I'm going to get a snack." Arnold fumed.
Walking out of the bedroom, Arnold left the Thornberry elders on their own, who each processed the tense moment. Still does Marianne have an expression of shock on her face, and her emotions were turned onto Nigel as she approached him slowly, eventually coming into his arms for comfort.
"Nigel... I almost destroyed the Green Eye. I almost made that boy throw himself away." Marianne shuddered.
"Dearie, I understand what you were trying to do, and I admire it. But it's not as simple as it was raising Eliza, Donnie, or even Debbie." Nigel assured.
"I know that, I should've known that, but... I don't know, I just... did what I knew worked."
"An understandable mistake. We're used to raising children, not helping a superhero. Bizarre as that sounds to say out loud. Listen. We're all a bit tense because of this whole trip. Let's not think of this as trying to save the world. Just remember that these people we're picking up are still people. Let's imagine this as a regular old trip across the world, shall we? Maybe that's all we need to get through this together."
Marianne nodded in agreement, finding some calmness in the face of her own regret.
"You're right. This isn't anything we're not used to. Except for the football-headed superhero, stoners with antigravitational skateboards, and a delusional, big-headed weirdo in a trenchcoat, on a quest to stop an alien invasion... Nigel, I think that may be easier said than done." Marianne said.
"Always the worrywart, you are, Marianne. All you need's a little faith, is all." Nigel said.
-
The Comvee's trek across the island of Hawai'i takes them to literally from one end of the island to another, coming to the Hualalai volcano.
As a series of islands in the tropics, volcanic activity is one of the staple features of Hawaii, and a constant concern and reason for caution among its inhabitants. There are at least 20 volcanoes in the Hawaiian archipelago, most of which are extinct or dormant, but 6 remain active.
The Hualalai volcano is one of them.
However, its last eruption was recorded at the very beginning of the 19th century, no projected to erupt again until the 22nd century. This makes it a popular attraction for tourists, who go on hikes to explore the volcano and witness the magma boil down below in its crater, witnessing Mother Nature at her most powerful.
A long walk away from the crater is a small campsite with scientific and electronic equipment laid across, most of it handmade. At work in this small campsite is a young man with an unnaturally high intelligence in all things electronic and mechanical, despite having no formal education outside a high school diploma.
Brilliant as he is, he is also on the line with a man brilliant in his own way, mastering every wave in his path, on a walkie-talkie.
"How's things looking down there, Otto?" Sam asked.
"Great, Squid! This beats the time we tried this out in New Zealand by a mile and a half!" Otto said.
"Oh, we're getting way better results here than we did in New Zealand. The volcano provides a lot more stress testing, the extreme heat conditions being one, and the magma doing a number on the magnetic components a challenge in and of itself, and-"
"Squid, man, do you gotta make a big science game out of everything?"
"Well, that's the point, Otto. We're trying to make sure everything works, and see how we can do the job better. Otherwise, what's the point?"
"For fun, that's what! You oughtta come down here and try this yourself!"
Initially focused on the readings of his equipment, Sam looked to his side to see a mobile home painted with a tiger stripe pattern drive near him, parking just outside his campsite. He took to this arrival as the meaning of visitors, prompting him to end the conversation with Otto.
"I got some guests, I'll call you in a bit." Sam said.
Ending the conversation, Sam approached the arriving Comvee, looking on with confused anticipation as to what awaited him. When the door to the Comvee opened, out came Reggie running straight for him, happily approaching him in to embrace her beloved significant other.
"Sammy!" Reggie called.
Running towards Reggie as she approached him, Sam grabbing her and held her up in a spin, kissing her after.
"Oh, god, Reggie, babe, I missed you." Sam laughed.
"I missed you, too, Sammy, it's been over a week." Reggie laughed.
"Well, what brings you up here? What's with the RV?"
Twister joined the two as soon as Sam asked his question, coming forward with far more enthusiasm.
"Squid, man. You're not gonna believe this." Twister said.
The explanation comes from crudely from Twister, and more precisely from Dib, bringing Sam up to speed regarding the situation at hand. Knowing that he is in the presence of the Green Eye, as well as being closer to understanding the origin of the technology he has worked on, he finds a childlike excitement at the news.
"So, a robot from the future comes to warn us about an alien invasion, and the big-headed edgelord's gathering up all the people we need to stop it. Sounds cool to me." Sam said.
"Pretty much, Squid." Twister said.
"And how'd you convince the Green Eye to come along?"
"I came in case the paranoid werido's right." Arnold said.
"Are you guys ever gonna give me a break for the way I look?" Dib asked.
"No." Everyone said in unison.
The Comvee made its way to the top of the Hualalai volcano, coming just short of the crater. Disembarking from the Comvee, the group approached the crater of the volcano, stepping dangerously close to the entrance to the volcano and near a deadly drop to the magma within.
"Wow... Mother Nature never ceases to amaze me, seeing her orfices and crevices up close and personal. The magma flowing below, broiling up so much steam and sulfur, what a distinct smell." Nigel commented.
"Yes, how nice a narration, Mr. Thornberry. But, in case you all may have forgotten, time is of the essence. Where is Otto Rocket?" Dib asked.
"Relax, big head. We're heading towards him now." Sam said.
The group stopped just before the crater, with Sam peering down and talking in his walkie-talkie.
"Hey, Otto, I got some interesting people here who wanna talk to you. One of them's the Green Eye." Sam said.
"The Green Eye?! How the hell did that happen?!" Otto asked.
"Long story. We gotta cut the test run short. You wanna finish it off with a bang?"
"What kinda bang?"
"How about a passenger?"
"Hell, yeah, send him down!"
"Coming right up."
Turning away from his walkie-talkie, Sam turned to the Thornberry family, looking for a subject for his plans.
"Okay, quick question: Which one of you is the most scared of heights?" Sam asked.
The rest of Rocket Power looked to the Thornberrys with mischievous excitement, and the Thornberrys immediately singled out Sam's target.
"That would be Tyler." Eliza said.
"Tyler's the one." Donnie said.
"Yeah, that's Tyler." Shane said.
"Hey, whoa, whoa, guys, why are you throwing me under the bus?" Tyler asked.
Putting his arm around Tyler, Sam escorted him to the crater in a friendly manner, leading him right to the edge.
"Alright, Tyler, I need you to do something for me. Look down there, you see that?" Sam asked.
"See what?" Tyler asked.
"Right there, you see it?"
"What am I looking for?"
Giving Tyler a push on his back, Sam sent him falling down into the volcano, successfully tricking him.
Tyler fell down the volcano with a scream, coming out of earshot as he fell, which immediately brought panicked reactions out of the Thornberry family. Running up to the crater to see Tyler fall, all screamed and feared for his life, with Rocket Power assuring them of his safety, despite the evidence to the contrary.
"What the hell are doing?!" Eliza screamed.
"Blimey! What in god's name, man?!" Nigel yelled.
"Relax, relax, relax, guys. It's cool. He's in for a real cool time." Twister assured.
-
Continuing his freefall into the volcano, Tyler continued screaming, watching the magma of the volcano get closer and closer as his apparent death approached him. As with many forced to face their own mortality, his panicked screams come with utter delirium, yelling nonsense that passed as final words and regrets.
"Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god, oh, shit, oh, god, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die...! I never got to tour with the big bands...! I never got any groupies...!" Tyler yelled.
[Soundtrack Cue: Avenged Sevenfold - Beast and the Harlot]
Then, just before coming into contact with the magma, a figure jumped up and grabbed Tyler, taking him along in his flight.
Once closing his eyes to brace for the impact, Tyler opened them when he realized he was no longer falling, finding himself on a skateboard that floated above the ground, just as he witnessed with the rest of Rocket Power. Looking to who rode this board, he laid eyes on the final member of the skating team:
Otto Rocket.
Looking back to Tyler with a smile and a pair of goggles covering his eyes, Otto remarked on his passenger's fearful state.
"How you doin'? I'm Otto Rocket." Otto said.
"H-Hi!" Tyler squealed.
"You afraid of heights?"
"Yes!"
"Well, no sweat. Just hold on tight. You're in for a ride!"
Leaning down on his hoverboard, Otto continued surfing across the magma, noticing a waterfall of lava running over the river he was riding across. Fearing the imminent plunge he would soon take, Tyler looked on his next upcoming fall with a frightened look, clinging onto Otto tighter...
...but Otto only chuckled as the challenge approached, eager to embrace it.
Leaping off the edge of the lava, Otto and Tyler fell straight for the flow below together, with Tyler screaming over the repeat of his previous traumatic experience, and Otto laughing maniacally as he rode the flow. Freefalling in the air, Otto performed various spins and twists in the air, adding an extra flair to his fall.
Moving his hoverboard to the falling lava, Otto rode the flow down to the ground level it reached, surfing it as though it were any normal body of water, without an ounce of fear. The ride is all that Otto Rocket has lived for since he was a child, eschewing basic responsibilities and education for another adrenaline rush...
...but, for a man with the privilege of surfing through an active volcano, none can say his life has become a waste.
Kneeling down to balance himself better, his hand, covered by a heat-resistant glove, lightly brushed against the lava beneath him, lightly running his hand through it no differently than he would the ocean. Standing back up straight, his surfing continues without a hitch, free to enjoy the waves of lava beneath his board.
Waves and splashes of lava sprout up in his path, again as the waves of the ocean would, and they once again inspire Otto to have fun with them.
What harmless fun he would have riding the waves of the ocean, he does in the much more dangerous waves of the Hualalai volcano, riding waves of lava with ease and expertise. Tyler ducked down in fear that the lava above their heads would come down on them, condemning them to a fiery and painful death...
...but Otto surfed straight out of the wave before they could come into contact with the lava, free from any harm.
-
Above the volcano, the Thornberrys no longer mourn Tyler once they know of Otto's gamble following an explanation, but still are they fearful for his life.
"Otto, where are you taking our new friend?" Sam asked.
"Down by the northeast side. I'm gonna make my own entrance." Otto said.
"Got it, we'll meet you there."
Getting off his walkie-talkie, Sam ran back to the Comvee, encouraging the others to join him.
"Otto'll be out of the volcano shortly with Tyler. We'll meet up with him, I'll point you where to go." Sam called.
Quickly running back on board the Comvee, the group all took their positions aboard, with Marianne driving with an urgent haste.
-
Continuing to ride waves of lava, Otto stole several moments in time dedicated to his fun, going beyond the purpose of a test of his equipment. The lake of lava he rode on has had his presence ride across it, leaving no corner of this firey pit of magma untouched by his desire for fun.
Though he is still safe and sound, Tyler can do nothing but cling to Otto like a koala bear does to its mother, frozen in fear from his unwitting participation in Otto's fun.
"Hey, relax, big guy, we're gonna make our own way out of here." Otto said.
Otto reached into his pocket to retrieve a baseball, outfitted with electronic components by Sam. Reaching to his back, he slid out a baseball bat, juggling the ball in his hand as he prepared to use the bat against it. His eyes scanned about in search for a target, as well as a means of reaching it.
Before him, he saw a piece of solidified rock that resembled a ramp, and a wall to the volcano just past it.
Throwing the ball up in the air, Otto hit it with his bat, sending it towards the wall of the volcano. Upon impact, the ball exploded in the same manner as Sam's gravity pucks, blasting an antigravitational force that blew through the wall, hitting harder than most high-explosive devices.
Aiming for the solidified rock, Otto skated off it like a ramp, aiming for the hole in the wall he had left, all while Tyler began screaming again.
Through no means other than by Otto's skills, the duo breached through the hole, making their way to the outside of the Hualalai volcano, safe from any lava or magma. riding down the volcano, the duo began heading for the ground once again, putting the entirety of the volcano behind them.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Reaching the ground at last, Otto stepped off the hoverboard, kicking it up to catch it. Tyler still remained attached to him, frozen in fear to react to his safety.
"Hey, dude. We're on the ground now. You can get off." Otto said.
Snapped out of his shock, Tyler giggled in nervousness.
"Oh. Right. Sorry." Tyler stammered.
The Comvee arrived at the bottom of the Hualalai volcano, meeting up with Otto, and seeing Tyler safe and sound. Disembarking from the Comvee, the Thornberry family ran up to the still-shaken Tyler, all surrounding him to see to his safety, and the children expressing the utmost regret for contributing to his fall.
"Tyler! Are you alright?" Elia asked.
"Tyler, bro, what happened?" Donnie asked.
"Tyler, talk to us. What happened?" Marianne asked.
"I... I... I..." Tyler shuddered.
Spontaneously breaking out of his shock, Tyler victoriously jumped up with a shout, expressing a joy that confused the Thornberrys.
"...had the most awesome time of my life! I was surfing on lava! I wasn't scared at all, it was awesome!" Tyler shouted.
"Ahem. I was surfing on lava. And you looked pretty scared to me. But it's cool, I had fun taking you for a ride." Otto said.
The Thornberrys embraced the now-elated Tyler, sighing a relief over his safety.
"Egad, you boys like to live dangerously, don't you?" Nigel asked.
"You know it. So, what's the deal?" Otto asked.
-
A local restaurant is the next location that the group made their way to, enjoying a full course of Hawaiian cuisine. Their main meal is a roasted pig, laid on the table for the group to enjoy together, though it is the Thornberry boys (save the vegetarian Donnie) that devour the majority of the swine in minutes.
Rocket Power are a close second behind them, with Otto and Sam consuming the most.
"So, all our tech comes from this alien race called Irkens, and one of them was sent here to take over the Earth, and, in the future, it gets the Green Eye's powers and takes over the whole planet?" Otto asked.
"That is correct." Dib said.
"Damn, that's heavy stuff."
"You were involved in something pretty heavy back a few years ago, Mr. Rocket. Stopping a corporate takeover of your whole town."
"Look, big head, 'Mr. Rocket' is my dad. Just call me Otto. But, yeah, I guess we did kinda solve that. But a whole-ass alien invasion? That's a big deal. What's a bunch of skaters like us know about that?"
"That's what I asked him. Apparently, you and your team were part of the resistance in the future, led by me. If what he's saying's true, then I suppose you must have some important value here." Arnold said.
"I hope so. Still, man, there's still a whole alien invasion coming right after we deal with the one that's already here."
"Mr. Dullard has already demonstrated a proficiency at reverse-engineering Irken technology from what he's achieved with your anitigravitational boards. And, after that little demonstration today, you've definitely got the physical means to use it effectively." Dib said.
"Uh, hey, human Reddit bot, can you possibly talk in English for us?" Otto asked.
"Or at least Spanish?" Twister added.
Silently fuming over his mockery, Dib scoffed in arrogance towards Otto and Twister.
"Now I'm starting to share your concern, Mr. Shortman. These knaves speak in such primitive tones." Dib snarked.
"Yeah, right. Like you ain't sitting there, looking like J.P. from Grandma's Boy, talking just as weird as him. Who still wears trench coats?" Otto responded.
"Alright, alright, now. We've still got the matter of the aliens to deal with, both domestic and intergalactic. That robot Membrane recovered said we need to find all our people in order to prevent it. I suggest we stop lollygagging and get to it... after we finish dining on this delicious member of Sus scrofa, of course. Can't go saving the world on an empty stomach, ngh-heh-heh-heh." Nigel laughed.
As Nigel began chowing down on the pig, serious discussion returned to the table, with Otto more seriously considering the matter.
"Well, you already got Twist and Reggie in. I guess that doesn't leave much other option for me. Besides, if the Earth's taken over by aliens, I can't skate anymore, so I got no other choice on that alone. How many guys you got so far?" Otto asked.
Arnold responded by pointing to himself, frowning at the slow success they have achieved so far.
In response, Otto gave a smile, lifting up two fingers.
Chapter 13: Chapter 11: Invaders From Irk, Part 4
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 11: INVADERS FROM IRK, PART 4
Somewhere in space, the Irken warship known as the Massive continues its trek through the stars, on a course for the Earth.
Aboard are the two Irkens known as the Tallest, who act as the rulers of the Irken race. Years ago, they had called for a full-scale invasion of the entire universe, sending sleeper agents to various planets to conquer them from the inside out, making them ripe for the Irken Empire to appropriate their resources.
The mission of the ship is to destroy the blue planet, annihilating all life on it.
The reason that they have set this mission for themselves is not for any of the life indiginous to the planet, but for a rogue agent of the Irken Empire that has caused more trouble than Empire cares to count., bringing the entire ire of the Irken race down upon him and the planet he now resides.
Once following a mission of intergalactic conquest of every planet within their reach, the Tallest have now recalled their invasion for the sole purpose of destroying the Earth, taking out both the third planet from Sol as well as their rouge agent, hoping to rid themselves of the problem he posed once and for all.
But the journey is no less tiresome as it is long, with even the urge for revenge failing to entertain the Tallest all the way.
"Are we there yet?" Purple asked.
"No." Red said.
"Are we there yet?"
"No."
"Are we there yet?"
"No."
"Are we there yet?"
"NO."
"Are we there yet?"
"NO!."
The scream made Tallest Purple remain quiet, no longer wishing to provoke his ruling partner.
"Well, sorry. This trip's a lot more boring than I thought it would be. How far is Earth, again?" Purple asked.
"A long ways away. So, how about you keep quiet and stop bothering me?" Red asked.
"But I'm bored."
Once lamenting that the trip was lacking in excitement, the bridge of the Massive went to alert, warning of an imminent threat.
"Almighty Tallest, there is another ship approaching." An Irken pilot declared.
"Oh, really? What is it?" Purple asked.
"It appears to be Vortian in design."
"Oh, wow, Vortian? I didn't think any of those were left. Is is it just me, or does it look... different?"
"It is upside-down, Almighty Tallest."
"Oh! ...Why is it upside down?"
"Outer space has no center of gravity, except for the interior of our ships."
"Oh, right. Well, give 'em a call."
"Purple, what are you doing? We're supposed to be heading to Earth to blow it up and kill Zim." Red said.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I just wanna make a quick detour out of this. Hail the ship."
"Yes, Almighty Tallest." The Irken pilot said.
Carrying out his orders, the Irken pilot hailed the ship, waiting for the hail to be returned.
"Do you think they know they're upside-down?" Purple asked.
"I don't care." Red groaned.
As the ship approached the Massive, the hail was recieved, returned with a response from those aboard the Vortian ship. The call the Tallest received was given by an alien obsured in shadow, showing only a pair of yellow eyes, with an army of aliens standing behind him.
Except the image, like the ship before them, was upside-down.
"Hello, Irken Empire. We meet again." The alien said.
The Tallest stood in silence at the sight of the upside-down alien, failing to recognize him or his voice.
"Uh, have we met?" Red asked.
"Yes, you have. We... are the Resisty!" The alien said.
Once again did the Tallest stand in silence, failing to recognize the voice or name, but snickers came from their declaration all the same.
"Hang on a second. Your name is 'The Resisty'?" Purple asked.
"Yes! You have asked us this once before!" The alien groaned.
"I don't remember."
"We had you nearly destroyed! The Resisty had nearly defeated the Irken Empire once and for all!"
"Uh, boss, that's not how I remember it." Another alien said.
"Yeah, we got our power core swapped out and had to abandon ship." A different alien said.
"Oh, would you just shut up?! I'm trying to-" The first alien shouted.
Then, the obscuring dark of the camera feed came to light, showing a handful of misfit aliens, most of them holding up cardboard pictures of more intimidating-looking aliens, with the head alien sitting at the chair of the ship, addressing the Tallest without the veil of theatricatlity on his side.
"Uh... Yes, that's right! It is I, Lard Nar! The Vortian leader of Resisty!" The lead alien shouted.
"Oh! ...Wait, who?" Purple asked.
"I said, I am Lard Nar! Leader of the Resisty!"
"Oh, alright, alright, I... seriously have no idea who you are. Do you know you're upside-down?"
"C'mon, seriously?! It wasn't that long ago that we first met! We pulled up with a Vortian ship, you said, 'Ooh, a Vortian ship, I didn't think there were any of those left', and you tried to shoot us with a big laser.. Ah, nevermind. Anyway, we, the Resisty, have resurfaced, and, after you forced us to self-destruct our old ship with your trickery, we made a new ship, and we have come to defeat you once and for all. We have seen your invaders flee from our planets, cowering like the... well, cowards... you truly are, and we come to confront you for the freedom of the universe. On this day, we shall celebrate our independence day for years to come, when we will have defeated the Irken Empire and liberated the universe..."
As Lard Nar trailed on his rant recapping their previous encounter, Tallest Red and Purple watched with boredom and disinterest, with Purple yawning and Red making a hand motion urging Lard Nar to wrap up his speech, which went ignored on account of ego and delusions of grandeur.
Becoming annoyed with the encounter, the Tallest secretly convened regarding the unwanted presence.
"Purple, do you seriously not remember who this guy is?" Red asked.
"Nope. He doesn't ring a bell." Purple said.
"Can we just blow him up? I'm getting bored."
"Yeah, this isn't as fun as I thought. Blowing him up oughtta be fun, though."
"Yeah. Alright, everyone, blast him. Let's make it interesting and fire all our lasers at him."
"Almgihty Tallest, should we not conserve our ammunition for when we arrive at Earth?" An Irken pilot asked.
"Nah, we'll have enough. I just wanna make the most of this detour. I want giant explosions."
"Yeah, yeah, me too!" Purple added.
Complying with the orders from the Tallest, the pilots went to work preparing the weapons of the Massive, aiming them straight for the ship of the Resisty.
"...and our children will remember and honor our efforts for all time, and our children's children, and our children's children's children, and our children's children's children's children, and our..." Lard Nar continued.
The Massive's bow began to light up various colors, each preparing to fire a deadly laser upon its sole target of the Vortian-built spaceship of the Resisty. Previously stuck in his self-absorbed speech of self-importance and self-fellatio, Lard Nar's ranting came to a stop as he saw the lasers begin to charge in front of him.
"And our children's children to the 36th power, and our children's children to the 37th power, and- Huh?" Lard Nar asked.
Sitting at the captain's chair of the Vortian ship, Lard Nar watched as the lasers reached their maximum charge, preparing to fire. The break from his self-absorption came too late, forcing him to come to terms with his own imminent mortality, and the destruction of his ship.
The rest of the Resisty also realized this fact as well, and their reaction is to panic about the ship.
"We're all gonna die!" One alien shouted.
"We failed our planets!" Another alien shouted.
"I want my mommy!" A different alien shouted.
Standing up from his chair, Lard Nar spoke up to the Resisty in an authoritative manner, prompting them to stop and listen, in hopes that they would find inspiration.
"My fellow members of the Resisty! Fear not! I have a plan that will see us through this yet. PANIC!" Lard Nar screamed.
Lard Nar's screams were the loudest among the ship, heard throughout the halls as he ran back and forth, but the reason why his screams were the loudest were by a technicality. Watching their leader abandon all sense of confidence and ability, the aliens of the Resisty watched him in unemotive disappointment, so thouroughly ashamed of Lard Nar that their own mortalities no longer seemed to matter.
"We picked this guy as the leader?" One alien asked.
"He was the one who built the ship." Another alien said.
"Eh. I blame myself." A different alien said.
Then, the Massive fired at the ship of the Resisty, blasting it to atoms in an instant, and killing everyone on it.
The death of the Resisty is instantaneous, but is prolonged by the many lasers that fired at their ship, reducing what would have remained as scrap metal floating throughout space into molecules and atoms, ensuring that nothing would remain of the resistance group, further cementing a lack of rebellion.
But this is not a concern for the Tallest, who merely watched the explosions with donuts and soda for snacks.
"Whoo! Explosions! Lasers!" Purple cheered.
"Yeah! Blow crap up! That's what I like! Whoo!" Red cheered.
The fireworks show ends promptly as it started, leaving the Tallest bored once again. Without their entertainment, their objective remains, and they return to it at once.
"Okay, show's over. Back on the road." Red orderd.
"Yes, Almighty Tallest." An Irken pilot said.
Moving back through space again, the flight to planet Earth continues, putting less and less distance between themselves and their target. With an entire fleet of Irken invaders behind them, an army is in waiting, with each member of the Irken Empire ready and anxious to invade a new planet, without the veneer of hiding and invasion, leaving only war and destruction.
But the Tallest are as apathetic as ever, forced to endure a long ride through space.
"Are we there yet?" Purple asked.
"No." Red said.
"Are we there yet?"
"No."
"Are we there yet?"
"No."
-
The human experience can be boiled down to a basic dichotomy: Pleasure and pain.
Pleasure is the most desirable feeling that a human being can achieve, and is often sought out at any cost. It comes through outside experiences with the world, interacting with their own environment through the 7 senses, brought about by either alone, or with another human being to enjoy it with.
Pain can be found in all the same ways, and its impact is far different.
Pleasure is a fleeting feeling, attainable for only finite amounts of time. It must be sought out right after the moment ends to achieve it again, and the craving to receive it will not stop until the brain receives another hit of it. The comparison to drug use may seem obvious, but the inverse is true: There is pleasure, and, therefore, there is drug use.
Pain is a feeling that no sane person willingly seeks out, but, unlike pleasure, it remains. The brain associates pain with any action as a negative consequence resulting from it, registering it in a manner similar to a punishment, and that data remains in the brain as a permanent reminder not to experience that harm again.
Pleasure is what Rudy and Penny Tabootie have indulged in hours ago on this night, enjoying the company of each other and the sensory input of one another's bodies. It is a dance they make often, a uniting of an artistic brain and scientific brain to benefit each other, and further cement the love and bond they have.
Pain is what they both run from, each having their own share of it. They have sought out and currently take part in therapy to see their problems solved, in hopes that their pain would at last go away or at least be relieved. Both know that they have their own problems, but, as a married couple in love, they work together to get through it.
Pleasure is what their sleep feels like, getting the rest each of them needed for the long and busy days they work. They have two children under their care, and they do everything they can to provide for them everything they need in life, and do whatever they can to make them happy.
Pain awaits Penny Tabootie as her sleep takes a far less comfortable turn, with her brain conjuring up a memory that has scarred her forever.
-
Leaving a shaken Penelope struck with despair and a dying Rudy anxiously awaiting his death, Skrawl rushed to help Carol in her distraction against the Chalk King, hoping to give Rudy enough time to die and transform so that they may have a new chance at victory.
Still feeling unable to carry out the deed, Penelope continued to look at Rudy with unease; the harpoon still shaking under the grip of her trembling hands.
"Do it. Kill me." Rudy said.
While the request that Rudy spoke was meant to be a set of words of encouragement, Penelope felt everything except encouraged from his sentence. Hearing and feeling the absolute pain in his voice, his wounds and injuries continuing to grow stronger and pull his life away with each second, Penelope could not bring herself to finish off the dying Rudy Tabootie.
"Kill me! We don't have time! Your kids need me!" Rudy pleaded.
Once again hearing the plea of Rudy Tabootie, Penelope still found the task impossible; the blood-gargling voice bringing on a strong sense of guilt and disgust.
Even upon trying to put the faces of her children in her mind, she still could not find the strength to carry out the task, believing that she would be thought less of by her own beloved children; the only beings in the world that she had ever had love from ever since they were born.
"KILL ME, PENNY! KILL ME!" Rudy shouted.
With the scream let out by the dying Rudy Tabootie giving just enough of a jump to finally carry out the deed, Penelope landed the harpoon back into his chest, making this scream his very last as a mortal human being. Feeling the rush of the stab work its way through her body, Penelope stabbed Rudy again, and again, and again, not stopping on her task until she had finally completed what she needed to do:
End the life of Rudy Tabootie.
After many sharp, consecutive stabs to his body, and another good number for good measure, there was no more sign of life in the body of Rudy Tabootie. With the very last breath of air escaping both his mouth and puncture wounds, his final heartbeat no longer carrying oxygen to his brain, and his brain no longer able to function without its essential nutrients, the task was finally completed.
Rudy Tabootie is dead.
8 years of wonder and growth, 5 years of adventure and exploration in ChalkZone, 15 years of torture and survival, a few days of love and healing, and a few hours of glorious battle and pain in the name of saving his beloved ChalkZone, a lifetime of changes and turns in the short timespan of existence that is Penelope Sanchez:
Gone.
Seeing and feeling the blood on her hands from the atrocious act that she had just carried out, Penelope dropped the harpoon, her hands still shaking. Placing her head between her legs, Penelope finally began crying; no longer able to avoid the inevitable and forced to face the reality.
For many years, she had believed herself to have been somehow complacent or enabling in the supposed death of Rudy Tabootie after his disappearance 15 years ago. Being sent to a mental hospital for assistance, Penelope was so sure that she was guilty of ending his life in some way, only to be thrown further into confusion upon hearing that he still lived.
Now, after finally being convinced that she was not at fault for his death, she had officially caused it.
-
"NO!" Penny screamed.
Rising up from the bed in a cold sweat, Penny began hyperventilating, gripping herself in terrified agony and fear.
The scream had also woken Rudy from his own sleep, rising up in a panic as he looked around for a threat. Nothing in the room proved itself to be a threat, leaving the anxiety-ridden Penny to bear the brunt of his attention. Continuing to hold herself, Penny began crying, grieving over a death that, despite being averted, affected her deeply nonetheless.
The fit of crying and anxiety had made Penny blind to everything around her, until Rudy touched her shoulders, making her gasp and turn to him.
"Oh, god, Rudy!" Penny cried.
Grabbing Rudy in a tight hug, Penny began kissing him hard and heavily, as if trying to suck him in to her body. The torrent of affection makes getting the necessity of air a challenge, forcing Rudy to fight between basic self-preservation instincts and to provide his dearly beloved wife with the support she needed.
When Penny gained enough of her kisses, she pressed her forehead against Rudy's, taking in his breaths as he took in hers.
"Rudy... I can't keep doing this. I dream about this so many nights. But I know we can't talk about this. We can't give away ChalkZone. This feels so horrible, keeping this secret inside me. I don't know what to do." Penny panted.
Thoughts and ideas spring up in abundance in the art-inclined mind of Rudy Tabootie, and several are exerted on the goal of seeing his wife sleep peacefully, no longer to be plagued by her nightmares, reliving an image that laid unbearable trauma on her mind. To walk the balancing act of the safety of Penny and ChalkZone, options are limited down to none as he thought...
...leaving him with little option else but to hold his wife in his arms.
Their embrace lasted for a timespan that Rudy cannot recall, lasting only until he had seen her drift back to sleep at last. To see her sleep so peacefully, if only for another brief reprieve, gives Rudy enough relief of his own worries for her to ease his own stress levels, giving him his own needed relief.
Once she goes unconscious to sleep, however, he does not. Removing himself from the bed, he sneaked off from the bedroom they shared to one in use by his stepson, Carlos. Walking into the room like a thief into the night, Rudy crept past his stepson as he slept, dreaming much more peacefully than his own mother, going to his art supplies.
Not rummaging through these tools for work, his target is a tool meant for reaching ChalkZone, a magical place where he has spent a good amount of his childhood, and over half of his lifespan as a whole, the latter an achievement that was made against his choice.
Going through various pieces of White Lightning chalk, the chalk he seeks out is simply known as magic chalk. No one knows how it came to be in our own dimension, but it acts as a portal to ChalkZone, giving whoever wields the chalk the means to step out of this world and into the second dimension, filled with the countless ideas the collective human conscious conjures.
And, upon finding one piece of glowing chalk, he finds what he needs.
What follows from there is a short trip to the chalkboard, drawing a portal to step through it...
...followed by a mild trip to an old friend, who he believed could help with his troubles...
...followed by a long trip through his own memories, reaching the reason for his own troubles, and those of Penny's.
"We haven't seen you for a long while here, Rudy Tabootie. We all understand that you have your own life to live now, but surely you can stop to visit some of your old friends in ChalkZone, live a bit of your childhood again." Skrawl said.
The friend he has sought out is a Zoner by the name of Skrawl. Brought into being through a birthday party gift gone wrong, Skrawl was condemed to an eternal existence of having no discernable identity or purpose, living as a strange being that made no sense, even in a realm where the laws of physics are broken like a career criminal.
With the alliance of the Chalk King, Skrawl became responsible for all of Rudy and Penny's current hardships, destroying lives in the name of revenge. Despite his cruel deeds, Rudy and Penny came back together once more, meeting as adults, and meeting a step further than that as husband and wife.
Finally brought back from his urges for revenge, and nearly paying the price for his mistakes with his life, he as granted a new one, redrawn by Rudy Tabootie to become the drawing he was supposed to be in the first place, at last living in peace as a fulfilled being with a purpose.
His new existence is as a designer sofa. Strange that this desire may seem to some, it is all but natural to a Zoner to wish to be complete, and Skrawl has at last found the peace that was denied to him. And fitting to his new nature as a couch, Rudy laid on him to speak out his troubles, as though he were talking to his own therapist.
"I spent almost all my life in here as it is, Skrawl. I didn't live life as a regular person. I didn't get to go to high school or grow up with Penny, I didn't get to go to college with her, I didn't even get to go to any dances with her. I missed out on a lot of stuff. And it was all because of you." Rudy said.
Ashamed of his own wrongdoings, Skrawl went silent with a sigh. He does not offer an apology in return, seemingly not willing to ask for or even accept it.
"Yes. Yes, I did. I was such a fool." Skrawl lamented.
"It's funny. For all you did, I should want to hate you. I know I could've left you to drown in that water, be erased forever and never come back. But I couldn't bring myself to do that. There's still that part of me that still wanted to help you, even despite the things you did to me. How you ruined me. Or at least almost did." Rudy said.
"Why did you do it? You had no way of knowing that I wouldn't go right back to my old ways if you'd save me. I didn't even deserve to have what I always wanted given to me."
"It wasn't what you wanted, Skrawl. It was what you needed. Needed to feel whole. Everybody deserves that."
"Would you say the same for all the predators you've killed?"
Rudy went silent following Skrawl's counterargument, given an inconveinent timing to know that others knew of his vigilante outings.
"How did you know about that?" Rudy asked.
"Carlos comes to me sometimes. You're not the only one who comes looking for a listening ear. He couldn't bring himself to tell Snap or Biclops or King Mumbo Jumbo, or anyone else. He felt they would never look at you the same again. He knew that I would be willing to keep it a secret." Skrawl explained.
"What does he say?"
"A lot of things. He still loves you very much, and he's happy to have you as a dad. But he's also scared of you."
Rudy let in a sharp inhale, feeling as though Skrawl poked him in the heart with a hot needle with his words.
"He's scared of me?" Rudy asked.
"He knows what kinds of people you killed. He knows what kind of things they were guilty of, and what good you've done. But what he's scared of is that you're letting your anger get the better of you. That you hate something so much that you become worse in the service of trying to stop it." Skrawl said.
"I just... I just didn't want anyone to hurt like I did. I wanted to save kids."
"And you've saved plenty. But how? Arresting people, that makes sense. Killing in self-defense, that also makes sense. But butchering them? Hacking them to pieces? Is this really about trying to kill the bad guys, or trying to kill something in yourself?"
The question forced Rudy into silence, forced to confront a deeper truth in himself that he did not like.
"I don't know. But I don't like that part of me. That much I'm sure of." Rudy said.
"How so?" Skrawl asked.
"There was... this one case I followed across the country. This... man, he... he kidnapped kids and... they weren't seen until later... what was left of them. I read about what he did in the news, how the cops hadn't caught him, and I decided to do something about it. I found him, talking to a little girl, offering her an orange, and he started leading her out of town. While he wasn't looking, I put a homing bacon on his back, and followed him. He made it out of the city limits, about to do what he was planning on that little girl, but I stepped in and caught him. But I didn't kill him. First, I dragged him off to some abandoned warehouse, somewhere where nobody would find either of us. I still didn't kill him. When I read about what he did, I wanted to make him suffer. Like he made those children suffer before they died. So I drew a baseball bat. And I started beating him with it. I did it for the longest time, breaking a lot of bones in his body, making him spit up some blood. I thought each beating would feel better as I kept doing it... but it didn't. I just felt like I was prolonging the inevitable. So, I was about to beat his skull in and finish it, but... but I just couldn't do it."
"Why not?"
"In between his coughs, he started begging me to spare his life, asking why he deserved to die, and telling me everything that was wrong with his life that made him turn out the way he did. I've heard plenty of people give me that same speech like he did, even thought about letting them live a few times, but I never did. Not until him. I don't know what it was, whether it was something in what he said or how in the way he said it... but... I think it was just something in me just finally gave in. Like I finally killed the thing I tried to kill, and I wasn't doing anything anymore. Then, I just started crying. This man killed children and did all kinds of unspeakable things, and I just started crying after what he said. I dropped him off to the police instead, and he was more than willing to confess. That was the end of him, but not how I felt. When I got home, I ran in the shower and stayed in there for what felt like forever, just crying. I don't know why I felt that way."
"Maybe it's something like growing up."
Skrawl's explanation brought intrigue to Rudy, prompting him to listen carefully to what he would say next.
"What does that mean?" Rudy asked.
"I don't know. Maybe you latch onto an idea that you think fit your life, some sort of goal that you wanted, but you realize it wasn't worth it in the end. A case of 'careful what you wish for', I suppose. But when you realize it wasn't what you wanted or what you were meant to be, you move on and try again. I know that much from experience. I mean, look at me now." Skrawl chuckled.
A snicker came from Rudy, sharing in Skrawl's levity at the serious moment that they shared.
"For a long time, I put the sword in your hands, and you used it most of your life. Maybe, something finally took the sword out of your hands." Skrawl said.
A look of relief came to Rudy's face, finding something close to an answer to the troubles he had in himself, imploring to find more.
"You've got a family to take care of now. You shouldn't spend your life on anger and revenge. If you want to put that anyone, you put it on me and get it over with. I'm the one who deserves it." Skrawl said.
"I can't do that. You know I can't. Besides, if you want to play the blame game, you said yourself for the longest time that it was my fault that you turned out the way you did at first. That was what made you get me stuck here. So who made who?" Rudy asked.
"Does it matter?"
Silence came once again, making the two come to self-reflection, soon to turn that reflection on one another.
"I've forgiven you for what you did to me, Rudy. It was a long and arduous process, but I got there. And I can tell you this much: I do feel better for it. I feel at peace again. You might not have much reason to forgive me, and I may not deserve it, but maybe it's not me who deserves anything. The question is: Will you allow yourself to deserve it?" Skrawl asked.
Keeping quiet with his head moving about in an awkard search for a way out of the subject he was in.
"Look at me. I came here looking for a way to help my wife, and I'm here talking about my own problems. How selfish am I?" Rudy asked.
"You can't help others without helping yourself first. I had a lot of help with King Mumbo Jumbo, Barney the Encyclocentipedia, and a lot of Zoners who are smarter than me before I got to where I am now. How do you expect to help Penny through when you're still dealing with your own problems?" Skrawl asked.
"We're working through them together."
"You're both trying to help each other, but you haven't helped yourselves yet."
Clenching his teeth, Rudy groaned in frustration, feeling his emotions conflict with one another.
On one hand, he knows that what Skrawl says is true, and the efforts that he has made with Penny has not gained him any ground on his own recovery, or helped hers in her own. He knows that Skrawl himself has felt this work from personal experience, and has Zoners with knowledge going back centuries to advise him.
On the other, there is still a burning fire of anger that exists in him for what Skrawl did, and, regardless of all the progress he has made, the one rubicon he has not crossed, this subject has helped him see it. Still is there the irrational anger that overrides the rational, making him unwilling to give in.
And his lack of surrender is made clear in words.
"I know why you did what you did. I don't hate you anymore for it. But I don't know if I have the strength for that. Not yet. I still deal with a lot of problems myself. And it isn't just me that you did this to. It's also Penny that has to live with it. I can't forgive you for what you did yet." Rudy said.
Though expecting the answer, Skrawl nonetheless nodded in acceptance, understanding the reason behind Rudy's choice.
"I understand. I will do everything I can to try to earn that forgiveness, no matter how little I deserve it, but I know that it can't be given so freely." Skrawl said.
"For your sake, Skrawl, and for mine, I hope I can give it one day." Rudy said.
-
A world without a Green Eye is a sad one, but it is also a more dangerous one.
Without its ultimate symbol of peace and justice, the world no longer has an image to look up to, and no longer has an example to follow. The world itself is also riddled with plenty of problems, some of the most dire being untreated mental illness and poverty, which make an awful mix in a hypercapilaist country such as the United States.
There are those who try to make a difference, whether it be on the smaller, local scale or through the bigger, national scale, but the efforts, more often than not, are not big or bold enough to truly change the situation at hand to make life better for the rest of the people in this country.
As a result, people will always turn towards evil, and the problem is made all the worse without a Green Eye.
"This marks the 5th consecutive day of the murder spree of newlyweds Marty and Mary Malick, counting a victim total in the dozens. In latest developments, the serial killer couple was last seen heading for Detroit, where several police officers were shot dead by the Malicks, and a family heading out of the city on vacation. The victims were revealed to be a family of four: Quincy and Olivia Boulder, with their two children, Woodrow and Julianne. The mother and father were shot dead, as well as their son, but the body of the baby Julianne was not seen at the scene, prompting a manhunt for the baby girl. No updates have been made in the search for Julianne, but many have began assuming the worst for the baby girl in the hands of a pair of spree killers." A news report said.
Watching the news report on a portable television were the infamous Marty and Mary Malick, hiding out in an abandoned warehouse to remain out of sight of the law. Their attempts to lay low were defeated by the crying Julianne Boulder, swaddled and held in the arms of Mary as she tried to calm the baby.
"Can you believe they'd imply we'd kill a little baby girl? Man, the news loves to show the worst of people and try to make it worse, don't they?" Mary groaned.
"That baby cries any longer, I might just lop the little bitch's head off. If it wasn't for your idea to have a baby this early into our marriage, I wouldn't be as patient with the damn thing." Marty sneered.
"Marty, how dare you speak about our baby girl that way! We're gonna give her all our love, and, now that her family's out of the picture, there ain't gonna be nothing between us and her. You're gonna be a good daddy, too. You just need to lay off the urge to kill everyone in sight."
"Coulda just had a baby in the old-fashioned way, you know."
"And go through the whole beauty of childbirth? No, thank you. I'm happy to adopt."
The banter between the two killers is believed to be unheard by anyone else, but it is picked up by a figure hiding in the shadows, positioned atop the warehouse.
Formerly known as Valiance, this figure calls himself Vindicator. His namesake comes not only from a desire to do good and bring the goodness out of others, but also to prove his own worthiness to exist, he fights crime as the Green Eye would do, acting hard and swift, but without death.
Though knowing of the death that these two have brought, he would be a liar to claim the thought of relapse did not tempt him.
Moving through the shadows on the roof of the warehouse, Vindicator stays out of sight of the killer couple, positioning himself to make his attack. Stealth is a concept that he only some familiarity with, opting instead to attack with guns blazing high, acting as a living tank against any target he chooses.
With the sake of an innocent life at stake, and an infant life at that, he dares not make any risk that is not necessary to down his targets. Despite his lack of experience, he fares well to stay into the dark, maintaining a discreet profile and makes no noise, maintaining his goal of stealth well.
However, for the last few months, he has been suffering painful headaches, and required medication in order to get through them. He has been lucky enough to have them strike at more convenient times, when he is not in the midst of a pursuit or a fight (though, of course, few would call the experience of a headache 'convenient')...
...but one comes to him now, when it becomes very inconvenient to his mission.
Losing his sense of balance, Vindicator had slipped from a perch he sat upon, knocking over dirt and rubble with his foot. The rubble had fell and hit the ground, making a clattering noise as it made its impact, catching attention from the killers that he was carefully trying not to catch.
Looking up from the fallen rubble, the Malicks saw Vindicator sitting on his perch, holding up their firearms.
"It's Valiance!" Marty called.
"Shoot the bastard!" Mary shouted.
Aiming their firearms art Vindicator, the Malicks sent several bullets flying in the air, several impacting against his body. Armored to the teeth in a metal suit fashioned after a medival knight, the bullets merely bounce off him, leaving the man inside completely unharmed.
The noise, however, greatly affected baby Julianne Boulder, who screamed her cries in response to the gunshots.
As the gunfire ascended, he descended with a jump, reaching into his utility belt to retrieve weapons of his own. His choice were a series of shurikens, preparing to throw them into the arms of one of his enemies. His choice is an obvious one, choosing Marty, as Mary currently held the baby, and could not risk harming the infant.
Throwing the shurikens into Marty's arm, his target cringed in pain, forcing him to drop his weapon. Upon landing, Vindicator grabbed the gun, pointing it at the Malicks.
Though Marty was without a handgun, Mary still possessed hers, and, rather than aim it at Vindicator and waste any more bullets, she put it against the head of baby Julianne, ignoring her cries. Unwilling to give Vindicator a clear shot at his wife, Marty stood in front of her, acting as a human shield.
The sight did not deter Vindicator, who still held the gun up to his target.
"Not gonna work, Valiance. Word on the street it, you aren't a killer anymore. Hell if I know why, maybe you got religious or something after Hillwood. So, here's the new score: You drop that gun, or we kill the brat." Marty said.
"We can always get us another one, or, if need be, we can get a new baby the old-fashioned way. The only way you can get a clear shot to me is if you kill my hubby, too, and you won't do it." Mary added.
"You're wrong about about three things." Vindicator said.
"Oh, yeah? Like what?" Marty asked.
"First, my name's not Valiance anymore. It's Vindicator. Second, I might not kill, but that doesn't mean I rule out bodily harm, if it's necessary. Third..."
Vindicator pulled the trigger to the handgun, firing at Marty.
The bullet did not hit any of his vital organs or make any killing impact, but what it did impact was an organ resting between his legs, severing it from his body and mutilating what rested below it. The work of the bullet was not done with Marty; its path also lined up with the groin of Mary, firing through her crotch and mutilating the sensitive anatomy within.
Both members of the murderous Malicks realized the injuries they both sustained, and immediately began to scream, falling to their legs as they grasped at their bloody, destroyed genitals. Mary's pain led her to drop both her gun and baby Julianne alike, sending her falling to the ground...
...but Vindicator swept in to catch her, and, in the arms of a protector, Julianne rested against his body.
"...I don't think either of you deserve kids." Vindicator finished.
As Marty and Mary Malick continued screaming in pain, Vindicator gently set Julianne on the ground, lightly rubbing her cheek with his finger. The careful touch of her hand continued to calm the baby down, feeling safe and sound, fulfilling the childhood fantasy of a young girl to be saved by a white knight from danger.
The sight of Julianne happy and safe makes Vindicator smile underneath his helmet, but also underneath his helmet, his headache began to return, hitting him far more fiercely and intensely. Grasping at his helmet, Vindicator fell to his knees, groaning as he felt the pain start to affect his vision, making it blur.
Baby Julianne crawled up to him in concern, grabbing at his cape and innocently tugging it, silently pleading for his safety. Trying to secure his own safety, Vindicator reached for his utility belt, attempting to secure a bottle of medicaton and stave off the headaches once again.
As he opened the mouth to his helmet, his attempts to do so were interrupted with Mary Malick jumping onto his back, strangling his neck.
"You better not have sterlized me, you son of a bitch! You're gonna pay every penny for my pussy reconstuction surgery, and make sure I get the husband stitch for my Marty!" Mary screamed.
The stranglehold Vindicator was in forced him to drop the bottle of pills, watching it roll across the ground and out of his blurred eyesight. Feeling Mary Malick angrily strangle his throat, her pain and rage fueling her strength, his supply of oxygen ran low, making his already hindered consciousness begin to fade.
Fueled by his own desire to live, Valiance threw a punch back to Mary's crotch, impacting her already damaged and bloody region with more pain, making her bleed more and scream. Forced to tend to her wounded womb, she fell off Vindicator, grasping at her bleeding crotch.
Grabbing her hands and holding them up, Vindicator proceeded to kick Mary in the crotch as many times as possible, making her scream louder and bleed more with each boot to her groin. Fuelled by his own survival instincts, Vindicator does not spare her any mercy, ensuring that she will not strike back again.
Soon, the pain is so sharp and intense that it makes her mind shut down, leaving no more screams out of Mary's mouth, and her eyes rolling back in shock. Releasing Mary Malick, Vindicator watched her fall to the floor, with only her breathing and twitching serving as the sign of life.
Once again, Vindicator fell to the floor, feeling his headache become so intense it crippled his ability to move. Still grasping at his helmet, he began to believe that this moment would be his last in life, and, while he may have saved the life of a baby girl, he would have not sufficiently paid off the debt in his soul.
Then, as if a sign from a higher power to grant him the means to continue, the baby Julianne crawled up to Vindicator with his bottle of medication. Understanding the baby girl's kind gesture, Vindicator grabbed the bottle from her, but not before reciprocating her kindness with his own.
"Thank you." Vindicator groaned.
Opening the bottle, Vindicator consumed a pill, swallowing it without any water. Though a lack of any liquids might make the journey of the pill painful, Vindicator cared not, only concerning himself with making the headache stop and he might continue on another day.
It is a long and arduous process to see the pill work, but it soon does, and his vision comes clear again, as does his mind, the former allowing the latter to process the baby Julianne looking to him in wait. As his pain at last left him, Vindicator stood on his own two feet again, facing the baby girl.
As police sirens began to sound, Vindicator picked her up, safely carrying her outside to the incoming police.
Handing the baby off to a police officer, Vindicator ran off into the night, escaping the sight of the local police, and off on his own. Within the dark alleys and lonely rooftops, he is given the space and the time to be by himself, where he can contemplate on the incident he had suffered in peace, and recognizing what consequences could have come had the worst happened.
And, most importantly, how much time he has left on Earth.
-
[Soundtrack Cue: Channel X - Rave the Rythym]
The hormone is a cruel creation of evolution.
When the existence of life has the sole objective to survive, it will mutate and conjure up anything that will help it reach its goal. A living creature must reproduce in order to fulfill this goal of self-sustenance, and sexual reproduction is how many creatures on Earth accomplish this goal, recombining genes to find the most suitable to survive and thrive.
Human beings are one of the many creatures that reproduce in this manner.
But being conscious and aware of this process, it has become more complicated than it need be.
The most challenging is puberty, when one's body changes to become suitable for producing offspring. This process is arduous and causes mental anguish for those subjected to this transformation, forced to feel and think emotions and concepts that they would not normally pay any mind to.
The hormone is responsible for this change, and it fills the air of a club known as the Ninth Circle.
A popular gothic nightclub in Amity Park, it is the home for many confused and troubled teenagers to get their minds off of their current problems in life, or attempt to solve them with sex and drugs. On paper, this nightclub would not allow access to anyone under the age of 18...
...but the process for obtaining false I.D.s become incredibly easy in the era of technology and information, and it is how Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, and others from Casper High have made their way into the club. Inside the troubled mind of Danny Fenton, the environment he was thrusted into found less concentration, what little of it existed in his head, and a series of sensory stimulations that swept away all his thoughts.
The loud, blaring music drowned out all other sounds, its repetitive rythym throwing his mind into a trance, the flashing rave lights forcing his eyes work harder to make out any distinct shapes, and the smell of bodily sweat and pheromones going through his nose, activating primal urges that began superceding his conscious mind.
To an anxious teenager barely comfortable in his own skin, these feelings are not to his liking, and his first instinct is to leave.
"Sam, can we leave? I wanna go home." Danny said.
"Hell, no, Danny. We just got here. And we paid top dollar for those fake I.D.s. I promised I'd take you out for a night of fun, and that's what I intend to do right now." Sam said.
"I don't like it here. It's too loud and dark."
"That's where half the fun is, you'll get used to it."
Dragging him further into the nightclub, Sam further subjected him to the sights and sounds and smells of the Ninth Circle, further impacting his unbalanced mind with sensory input that only put his thoughts and mental state further away from wellness, with Sam selfishly taking him inside.
On moving through the club, the two bumped into a pair of schoolmates who also did not belong in this club, but found their way in by extralegal means similar to theirs. The two they encountered are Dash and Paulina, two of the most popular students from Casper High, dancing to the club's music together.
Fans of their work, Dash and Paulina happily greet the pair as they bumped into one another.
"Hey, look who it is! The best goddamn writer since Shakespear, and his artist girlfriend! How you guys doin'?!" Dash called.
"Doin' fine, guys, how are you?" Sam asked.
"Just fine, girl. You guys got in, too?" Paulina asked.
"Yeah. Danny's a little stiff right now, I'm trying to loosen him up a bit. Got any suggestions?"
"Get him a shot, I'll pay for it! Least I can do!" Dash offered.
"He's not into alcohol. What else you got?"
"I got something." Paulina offered.
Reaching into her pocket, Paulina pulled out a pack of LSD strips. Upon seeing the psychedelic acid offered, Sam's eyes lit up in excitement.
"Oh, hell, yeah! Perfect for both me and Danny! How long does it take to kick in?" Sam asked.
"Not that long. It goes to work real fast." Paulina said.
"Bring him over, and let's start partying!" Dash called.
Turning her head in the expectation of seeing Danny, Sam looked to see him absent, putting a roadblock in getting him high.
"Shit, I'll go find him! Don't start it without me!" Sam called.
"We're right here and ready when you are!" Paulina called.
Wading through the crowds of ravers, Sam looked around to find a trace of her boyfriend, working with less than no clue as to where he could have went to on his own in the club. Frustration settles in for her, both out of the unnecessary act of her task, as well as the delay in enjoying the acid for herself.
Soon, she is lucky to find him at the bar, receiving a glass of water from the bartender.
"Thanks." Danny said.
Taking a bottle of medication out of his pocket, Danny prepared a pill in his hand, preparing to make use of his glass of water to take it. Just before he could take the his perscription, however, Sam grabbed his hand that held the pill, preventing him from taking his medicine.
"What do you think you're doing?" Sam asked.
"I need my medicine, Sam. Jazz wants me to make sure I take my meds." Danny said.
Taking the pill out of his hand, Sam dropped it on the floor, crushing it under her boot, much to Danny's dismay.
"You don't need that crap, Danny. Your sister doesn't know what you really need. You said yourself that your meds weren't even working." Sam said.
"Those were the old meds. These are new ones." Danny explained.
"Whatever. You don't need big pharma or any of their junk in your head. Here, we got something way better for you, and way more fun, too."
Returning to Dash and Paulina with Danny's hand in hers, Sam returned to see the Paulina readying a strip on her finger.
"Just in time! We almost started without you!" Paulina called.
"Ready when you are now, the guest of honor's ready for his hit!" Sam called.
Placing the strip of LSD on her tongue, Paulina brought Sam closer to herself, putting their foreheads against each other. Sticking her own tongue out with the strip still on it, Paulina met her tongue with Sam's, spreading the acid for both of them to cosume, soon moving into a kiss proper with the gesture.
Danny looked on the display of affection with confusion and some betrayal, but Dash grabbed him by the shoulder and cheered, laughing in joy at the sight.
"WHOO-HOO! It ain't a party until all the girls start kissing, ain't that right?" Dash shouted.
Once the girls finished their kiss, they both moved to their respective men, grabbing them both by their faces for a kiss. Dash is more than eager to fulfill Paulina's request, bringing her in a hold, sharing a more sloppy and intimate kiss without the slightest care for any others...
...but Danny is far more uncomfortable in the kiss, aware of the drug on her tongue, and what effect it will have on him, to say nothing of how he felt towards her affectionate gestures in public, much less after she finished sharing a similar gesture with another woman.
Breaking off the kiss, Sam looked back at Danny with lustful eyes and a panting breath, feeling the drug start to take affect on her mind.
"Here we go, Danny. Get ready to have some fun." Sam said.
"Sam... Please... I really don't... want... to..." Danny tried to say.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
The LSD takes full control of his mind.
In contrast to the typical affects of LSD, having their visual input dissolving and showing bright and colorful sights coming in the form of fractals, what happens instead for Danny Fenton is a different sort of dissolution, as if seeing two different visions and realities start to mesh together with one another.
In one reality, Sam Manson is a rebellious goth girl, playing the part of the tempting Jewess pulling him into sin and debauchery.
In another reality, she is his wife, and his partner in hunting and capturing ghosts.
Only glimpses of this second reality can he catch, but intense focus allows him to tune into it better, as if tuning the aperature of a camera. When he put himself in this reality further, it became far more vivid, more real than the reality he knew, and his own self-image turning into that of another version of himself.
As his phantasm comes to clarity, he can see Sam Manson, now christened Sam Manson Fenton, donned in a full white wedding dress to boot. The setting is not the Ninth Circle, but their bedroom, where they share it for the first time as a married couple, and plan to spend it for many more nights.
The first night is a mostly awkward one, as the two stood in their Sunday bests, standing in front of the other with little knowledge of what to do.
"Well... Here we are." Danny chuckled.
"Yeah. Finally married." Sam giggled.
The awkward setting allowed for a few laughs to lighten the tension, but it returned with greater significance, shown by a look of seriousness on Sam's face as it turned to the side. Vigilant to her emotoinal needs before and after their wedding vows, Danny stepped forward to grasp her shoulders, reassuring her of her troubles while also trying to troubleshoot them.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong? We just got married. This the the start of the rest of our lives." Danny said.
"I know, it's just... It's funny to think how far this all went. I was always the troublemaker, trying to be the rebel of the family." Sam said.
"Well, who could blame you? Your family's kind of a bunch of stuck-ups."
"Yeah, but... I just can't help but think how I might've turned up if I didn't have Danny Phantom in my life. Or... you know... how you might've turned out without Danny Phantom in your life."
"I am Danny Phantom. Want me to go ghost to prove it?"
"No, I mean... How many people get this privliege of yours? To be a hero? To have all that power and use it for good?"
"Not a whole lot."
"Exactly. But you wouldn't be the kind of person you are if you weren't also Danny Phantom, and neither would I. I'm just glad we have the life we have. Thankful for it."
"We don't have to worry about that tonight, or any other night. Tonight, this is about me and you."
Keeping his hold on Sam's shoulders, Danny leaned in for a kiss. As Danny kept his gentle hands on Sam, Sam, in turn, moved her hands onto Danny's back, both feeling the other's body as they also took their tastes of each other. It is a romantic scene that sets the mood well for a first night following their wedding...
...and, as their clothes started to come off, it moves on to the consummation steadily enough.
-
While in reality as it is currently known, the otherworldly experience made Danny fall to his knees, his head tilted sideways and down with dreamy, glazed eyes, showing no signs of connection with his consciousness or the real world. Stuck in his drug-inspired dream, he has no intention of leaving, and loves it more than he loves the real world.
The unusual reaction is taken note of by the other 3 he shared the drug with, who, despite being high as well, can comprehend his addled state, but not the issue with it.
"Hey, man, he's really tripping out." Dash joked.
"Yeah. You got some good shit, don't you?" Sam asked.
"You know it. You guys wanna find a back room and... have a little more fun together?" Paulina asked.
"I'm up for it. Danny, you in?"
Still comprehending the reality that once was, Danny responded to a different Sam, misunderstood by the current Sam as consent.
"Yes, Sam... Yes..." Danny moaned.
"He's game. Let's go." Sam said.
"Here, I'll help you carry him." Paulina said.
[Soundtrack Cue: My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult - Nervous Xians]
Sam and Paulina both carried Danny to their destination, with Dash following behind them. With hormones running high and drugs intensifying all emotions that came with them, sex is hot on all of their minds, feeling a sense of immortality and sensuality akin to the gods of Rome and Greece.
In the mind of Danny Fenton, his mind once again began to sense both realities, with one foot of consciousness in each, experiencing neither clearly.
Transposed with this current reality was a past reality of Danny laying his wife down in bed, sharing a kiss as their naked bodies ran against each other. Intimacy, the desire for both of them to become one, os all they can think of, and all they desire, making this a special activity only they can share.
The Sam of this reality is much more liberal, viewing this area of the human experience as one to be shared with others rather than savored alone. As she kissed Danny Fenton, she allowed him to be kissed by Paulina as well, tasting a mixture of her saliva and his own.
The Sam of the past reality shares the taste of herself with no one but Danny, and she gives it to him willingly and enthusiastically, holding and lovingly groping his body with care and appreciation. Danny follow the same motion on her body, touching her in a way that displayed his own love for her.
Both Sam and Paulina of this reality explore Danny together like a toy, touching and grabbing him with only their own sexual interests in mind. Eager to get his clothes off, they strip him without care or concern, making him their personal object of pleasure in ignorance of his mental state.
His mouth explores not only the mouth of his wife, but the Danny Fenton of the past reality also the rest of her body, ensuring that she is touched by marks of his love on every inch of her. He takes his time to spend it on the most sensitive and special parts of her anatomy, taking her mind to glorious heights of euphoria.
The mouth of Paulina explores but one part of him as Sam does the same to Dash, both engaging in an act of swinging to try each other's significant others. Strong and dominant as he is, Dash not only keeps a strong hold on Sam's head to push it further down, but also reached out to Danny's face and held it, kissing him as well, enjoying the taste of a less masculine boy.
Pleasure and vulnerability are what Sam of the past reality feel, humbled and purified in the fires of esctacy that stole away any troubles in her mind. She feels at an ultimate peace, brought about by the most special shared intimacy, and, wishing to give that great height of peace in return, she used her own mouth on Danny as he did to her.
Laid down on a bed, the Danny of the current reality was made to allow Dash to explore homosexual exploits as he used his mouth for his own pleasure, where he was only half-conscious to experience it. The penetration is something Danny has not and could not prepare for, making him gag and soon vomit as soon as Dash has what he desired out of Danny.
Once they have had their fill of merely exploring one another's bodies, the Danny and Sam of the reality that once was make their bodies one. The act of fulfillment gives meaning to both of their lives, and deepens the connection that they have shared throughout the years, and strengthen it for years to come.
In the reality that now is, Sam and Danny make their bodies one as well, but not for the purpose of love and intimacy. This is an act purely of pleasure, with love and care thrown to the winds, and the desire to fulfill a hunger, to scratch an itch, is all that Sam concerns herself with.
Moving slowly and gentle, the Danny that once was treats his newlywed wife with the utmost care to see her get her pleasure. He is rewarded with more loving embraces and kisses, with moans that come from her mouth that urge him to continue what he does, and he does so with greater enthusiasm.
Sam of the reality of now moves at her own pace, concerning herself with only her own pleasure. Paulina, having had fun with Dash on her own, joined with Sam, sitting on Danny's face to receive her own pleasure from him. As the two made use of Danny for themselves, they engaged in sapphic pleasure with kisses and fondling, feeding each other's bodies with touches.
Of the married couple that once was, they act not to receive pleasure for themselves, but to grant it to one another. Danny and Sam act on trust, allowing one to move in the service of the other, and it elevates their own pleasure greatly as a result, reaching highs that very few can reach.
Sam of the true now comes close with her selfish desire for an orgasm, receiving many throughout their session, but none coming close to what she once had in her past life. In subsitute of privacy is perversion, brought to greater extremes when Dash placed himself between Sam and Paulina's mouths, taking oral pleasure from them as he stood and enjoyed for himself.
The married Danny and Sam have had a reasonably long session shared, but all good things must come to an end, especially one as special and as wonderful as the experience feels to them both. They hold each closer as they reached their respective climaxes, made with the intent to concieve and turn their love into another life.
Those in the new reality finish for themselves, and it is only one of many times that they have done so throughout the night. Bodily fluids are discharged without a care or purpose, wasting reproductive cells from achieving their evolutionary purpose, and deprived of the magic that implimented what made them special, treated as no different from waste.
When the married Danny and Sam conclude, they rest together in each other's arms, their bodies expended of energy, and their marriage fully consummated. They have high hopes for a child to enter their lives, and their hands go to Sam's womb, supplying it with the expression of love in the hopes that a child will come.
In the reality that is now, no eggs are fertilized and no sperm meets its target, but both Danny and Dash are left to rest on their bed. The latter holds Danny like a brother as he enjoys watching Sam and Paulina share sapphic desires more, carrying on to drown their minds with nymphomaniacal glee.
In both realities, the hormone is pleased, regardless of how or why.
But only in one, Danny is pleased, and it is not this one.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Chapter 14: Chapter 12: Invaders From Irk, Part 5
Chapter Text
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.
Chapter 15: Chapter 13: Invaders From Irk, Part 6
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 13: INVADERS FROM IRK, PART 6
Therapy comes in all forms and functions, all of which are customized to the needs to the individual in question. Often, it is focused on but one person in order to maximize their needs and care, but, occasionally, therapy can be spent together, with two parties who have shared a trauma together, or even in groups to overcome their mental wounds as one.
Rudy and Penny Tabootie face theirs together, inching their way towards mental health once again.
Seemingly destined towards marriage when they had met at 10 years old, sharing harrowing adventures together in a magical land known as ChalkZone, doing so until their teenage years had begun. Just as they had shared adventures in the second dimension as youths, they would have shared the adventure of adult life together as they figured it out as a team...
...but the interference of a foe by the name of Skrawl made the journey together impossible, and they were taken from one another, forced to live out separate lives until 15 years later, when they had both taken on their own traumas throughout their own lives, and even more following the trials following their reunion.
At last achieving the life they desired together through marriage, they lay out their troubles to their therapist, a psychologist by the name of Dr. Judge listens carefully and sympathetically. He has given some instruction on how to overcome their traumas, and today is where they take another moment in the week to see how far their efforts are paying off.
"Alright, it's been about a month since we've all started getting together now." Dr. Judge said.
"A full month." Penny commented.
"I know, right? Amazing how time flies so quickly. So, you two have been spending a lot of family time together, that's very good, and there's been no problems at home?"
"None whatsoever. It's been nice to have a breather."
"Good, good."
"But, um... The, uh... The... nightmares... they're still there."
"Mmm-mmm. Is it the same dream again?"
"Yes. I've been taking the sleeping medication you prescribed, and I've been trying to do a lot more relaxing activities before bed. Most of the time, I read a book or listen to white noise. But it just... Oh, god..."
Feeling anxiety take hold on her, Penny's breathing began to increase, prompting her to stop and collect herself.
"It's alright, Penny. Just breathe." Dr. Judge said.
"I'm okay, I'm okay. Just... I'm okay. It's just hard to get that image out of my head. I saw myself killing my husband. How is anybody supposed to live with that?" Penny asked.
"But he's not dead. You know he's right here, and he's not hurt."
"I know. But after spending so many years missing him, seeing him die, that's- that's not an image I ever want to see again. I know he's here now. I guess I just need time to really have it cemented in my head. I've only had him back in my life a little over a year, and he's been gone for 15. I just need more time."
"That's good, that's a reasonable way to look at it. We don't heal in just a day. You've been coming back for a month, after all."
"Right."
"And what about you, Rudy? You've been awfully quiet the whole time."
"I was just letting Penny talk. She's got more to say than me." Rudy said.
"Now, Rudy, remember what we talked about on the first day? It's not a question of who needs help more. We all need help, but that doesn't make it any less important because someone else hasn't been down the same path as you."
"I remember. I just wanted Penny to go first. I want to make sure my wife's taken care of first."
"In that case, that's just being a good husband."
The three chuckled at the joke, allowing levity to the serious discussion and all topics included.
"Now, come on, Rudy. This is your time, your place. You can say whatever's been going on with you, and there's no judgement here, pardon the expression. This is about being honest not just with everyone else here, but with yourself." Dr. Judge said.
One particular topic of conversation came to Rudy's mind, with his mouth instinctively preparing to open and speak his mind. A second thought brought about hesitation, and his eyes darted to the side, still unsure of how to phrase his thought without revealing ChalkZone, and unsure of whether or not to speak.
But his own self-preservation that once forced him into silence craved the solution of his issues more, and gave him the strength to speak.
"I, uh... I recently... met with... the person who kidnapped me." Rudy confessed.
The comment prompted peaked interest from both Dr. Judge and Penny, who looked back to Rudy with concern and caution.
"You... met with him?" Dr. Judge asked.
"I mean... There's, uh, there's this place that... I go sometimes. I first went there when I was a kid. I went there a lot when I was kidnapped. I went there again recently, and talked to him. The one who did it." Rudy said.
Through Rudy's vague description, Dr. Judge interpreted the story differently from the reality, but nonetheless found a track to work with, nodding in understanding.
"Ah, I think I understand. Please, continue." Dr. Judge implored.
"I killed him." Rudy said.
Rudy's confession came with a calmness and confidence that one would hear only in true killers, stemming from the vigilante justice he exacted onto others. The placid voice disturbed Penny when she heard it, but, yet still unaware of the true context, Dr. Judge kept a nonplussed reaction, keeping his empathy and understanding.
"And what else?" Dr. Judge asked.
"I killed him a lot of times. I thought if I killed him enough times, I'd eventually stop seeing him, and I'd keep him from hurting anyone else. To make sure nobody else would suffer like I did. Sort of like... In Silence of the Lambs, Clarice Starling said to Hannibal Lecter that if she'd just stopped Buffalo Bill, she'd make the lambs stop screaming in her head, from that one bad childhood memory of hers. I don't know if you know that reference, but..." Rudy said.
"I did see it. Very good movie. I always get a lot of funny looks when I ask for Chianti at dinner, though."
Another much-needed chuckle was shared with the group, disarming Rudy and putting him at ease enough to continue.
"But it wasn't working. No matter how many times I killed him, I just kept seeing him everywhere. Knowing what he did to me and what he stole from me. In the movie, Agent Starling said the lambs stopped screaming... but they didn't for me. I guess it just goes to show you that the movies are always full of shit when it comes to happy endings." Rudy said.
"So what did you do then?" Dr. Judge asked.
"I talked with him."
"What did you talk about?"
"I... I told him that I understood why he did it. That there was something inherently wrong with him, and that he took it out on me for it."
"Nothing's inherently wrong with anyone, Rudy."
"That's how he saw it. He blamed me for it. I... reimagined him as finally having what was wrong with him solved, and he was happy. He was thankful that I gave him peace, and I knew he wasn't going to hurt me anymore. He asked me for forgiveness."
"Did you forgive him?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"There's part of me that wants to. I know it's the right thing to do, like it's the right answer on a test, like it's the one thing standing between me and getting this out of my head, but there's also the anger in me that wants to lash out. I've had it with me for so long, it's just as a part of me as my drawing. I don't know if I'm ready or able to give up a part of me."
"Even when it brings you these problems?"
With the dilemma rephrased in a way that reminded Rudy of his current situation, the time to reply came slowly following contemplation, seeing how his actions led to consequences that harmed himself. Once again put between two distinct choices in solving his internal struggle, he cannot reach a decision.
"I don't know. It's something I picked up and held onto in order to survive. I know I don't need it anymore, but it's still a part of me nonetheless." Rudy said.
"So you hold onto your anger for a sense of identity?" Dr. Judge asked.
"I guess so."
Reaching her hand to Rudy's, Penny grasped it, squeezing it to gain his full attention.
"Rudy, you don't need that to tell you who you are. You're my husband, and the father to my children, and a very talented artist with a good career and following. That's who you are. That anger? That's not who you are. That's what Skra- Um, what your kidnapper made you into." Penny said.
"And what about me being your husband? That's something you gave to me. Or my art? Maybe I had that in me, but it was comics that brought it out of me. Everything I am, it's been influenced by other people and other things." Rudy rebutted.
"That's true, but you can also decide for yourself what you want to do in life. What you've done is only half of your life. What you're going to do is the other. It's a simple question at this point: What do you want to do with your life now?" Dr. Judge asked.
This question required far less time to respond, especially after looking into the eyes of Penny as they gazed on him with love and care.
"I want to be a good husband to Penny, and raise our kids to make them good people." Rudy answered.
"And do you think you need your anger to do that?" Dr. Judge asked.
"No."
"Then it's as simple as that. You can choose your anger or your Penny. Which do you think requires more devotion?"
Hesitation comes only briefly with the next response, but it is certain and clear.
"Her." Rudy answered.
"Then what are you waiting for?" Dr. Judge asked.
Looking back at Penny once more, Rudy's eyes were given the view of her loving gaze once again, the size of her eyes amplified by her glasses to appear wider and more innocent. The hazel-brown eyes of his wife carried a need and longing that called unto Rudy, just a step away from tears.
The emotion is not only communicated and reciprocated, but also felt by Rudy himself. To see any sort of distress or discomfort in his wife's eyes is something he cannot stomach, and has an instant drive and obligation to see the source of her troubles completely gone.
In this instance, however, he is at a crossroads with the particular source of her distress.
He knows that it is his own anger that scares her, and to rid himself of it would bring an end to many of her troubles. He feels an enormous amount of guilt for having inflicted these negative emotions upon her, and that guilt also drives him to dispose of his anger as well...
...yet still, this is a task that requires him to surrender what is, for better or worse, a part of himself. This part of him has taken on a firm hold on his identity, making it hard to imagine himself without the anger inside him, and he wonders how he could get through much of his life without it.
But he also wonder how he would live without Penny, and that is a thought that makes him fearful more.
At a choice between his anger or Penny, there is but one obvious solution.
"I love you, Penny." Rudy cried.
With tears starting to form in his own eyes, Penny, too, began to cry, and held his hands tighter.
"I love you, too, Rudy." Penny cried.
Grabbing each other in a loving embrace, both shared a kiss, tasting one another and making themselves one person for but a small moment in time, giving permanence to the love they shared, and strengthening it to solidify their bond and give them both strength to continue on.
The kiss ended with both parties hugging and continuing to release their emotions in a cry, and, trying to hold back his own tears, Dr. Judge watched with pride.
"Now, I think we're getting to a breakthrough." Dr. Judge said.
"I'm not under any illusions, doctor. I know that it's gonna take a long while for me to get through this, but I'll do it. For Penny. I have to." Rudy said.
"As long as you remember that and hold that mentality in mind, you will. I guarantee it."
-
One member of the team is in, but another is not.
What started as a rapid success in recruiting those needed to fight against Zim and the Irken invasion has hit a recent speed bump with one member refusing to join, leaving the overall team one man short and decreasing the likelihood that the human race will fend off its invaders.
The one who would not join is Gerald Johannsen, once the best friend of Arnold Shortman, and crime-fighting partner of the Green Eye also known as G-Funk. For personal reasons, pertaining both to recent events and those that he has shared with Arnold in Hillwood, his involvement has been sufficiently ruled out.
This leaves not only one man down on the team, but also left a dejected Arnold Shortman.
For the majority of the trip, he has spent his time brooding alone, mostly by sitting at the table or laying on the couch. This time, his solitude seems to be even more introspective and melancholy than before, and the reason for his darkened mood is obvious enough as not to warrant repeating.
It is also obvious enough for Eliza Thornberry to take notice of, and she has made many attempts to reach out to him.
Her latest attempt comes as she walked into the main living room of the Comvee, but came to a momentary pause as she encountered Dib. Having no personal liking for the man, not forgiving him for the threat that forced her to disclose her greatest secret, he is still worthy of her attention, if not to ensure he poses no threat.
At the moment, he does not appear to do so, choosing to stand and face the wall in contemplation, with one foot on a chair and his head looking off to the side. The act is of no obvious threat, but it does illicit enough curiosity for further inspection, which Eliza did before asking Dib directly what his goal was.
"What are you doing?" Eliza asked.
"Thinking about the day we will defeat Zim. It will be a glorious day in history, when the Irken scum is finally rid from the Earth, and the world will bow to its heroes as we celebrate our freedom. It's a moment I've waited for all my life." Dib explained.
The explanation comes in a grandiose voice that reeked of self-importance and delusions of grandeur, prompting Eliza to avoid him with even greater effort.
"Uh... Okay." Eliza said.
Walking away from Dib with caution and an eye kept on him as she walked away, Eliza continued into the main living room of the Comvee, finding Arnold sitting by himself in a brooding manner. The concern for Dib is now gone as she stood in his eminence, hoping with childlike fervor that the Green Eye might return.
Yet again she tries to reach him, in spite of her previous failures, seating herself across from him.
"Hey again." Eliza said.
Arnold gave her a mild glance, looking back down at the table after. Initially disheartened, Eliza was not deterred, and she continued to speak.
"Listen. I, uh, I'm sorry that things didn't work out with your friend." Eliza said.
Still did Arnold show little interest, this time not bothering to look at her in response. Eliza grew anxious as a result, not sure how to continue.
"Was... Was he your best friend? It seemed like you two were close." Eliza asked.
"Used to be." Arnold said.
"Yeah. I had a best friend, too, a long time ago, like you. He was a chimpanzee."
"My best friend's black, your best friend's a chimpanzee. You don't see the obvious racial angle you just laid out?"
Not noticing the unfortunate connection Arnold mentioned, Eliza nervously attempted to back away from the accusation, stammering in anxiety.
"What?! Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I wasn't doing that at all. Honest. I mean, we've been all around the planet-" Eliza panicked.
"Save it. I know that's not what you meant. I also know that you can talk to animals, so I'm guessing you saw him more like another human than an animal." Arnold said.
Cleared of the uncomfortable situation and asked a more comfortable question, Eliza remained calm enough to continue.
"Yes. Yes, I did. Well, I've never actually seen animals as just 'animals', in the way you might, being able to... You know. They all seem like people. But Darwin was my best friend. I knew him for most of my childhood, and we did so much stuff together." Eliza said.
"Hmph. Naming the chimp Darwin. That's real original. Bet you pissed off the creationists real bad with that one." Arnold scoffed.
"Actually, we named him after my cousin."
"Of course. Is there a point to this conversation? Another one of your attempts to try to make me cheer up or something?"
Arnold's negative attitude no longer made Eliza feel intimidated, but, instead, drove her to stand her ground and show her frustration.
"Look. I realize you don't like me very much. That's fine. But I actually believe in what we're doing, and that we need the Green Eye again. Whether or not you choose to believe you're still the Green Eye or not, it doesn't matter. You are. But if you really wanna try to ruin all the good you did, go ahead. See if I care." Eliza sneered.
Getting up from the table, Eliza prepared to walk away, almost leaving earshot of Arnold until...
"It's not that I don't like you, Eliza." Arnold said.
Hearing Arnold's response, Eliza stopped and turned to look back at him, listening for more.
"You're a good person. I know, I can tell. The problem is you haven't seen the worst of the worst. You don't realize how little your efforts actually mean at the end of the day." Arnold continued.
"Oh, I've seen plenty of bad out there. Trust me." Eliza said.
"Like what?"
"The cycle of life. Animals hunting and eating other animals for food. Predator and prey. You name the continent, I can name you which animal's which. That's nature. I couldn't stop nature even if I tried. As much as I'd like to, sometimes."
"That's just how life is. When it comes to animals, you only have one primary directive: You survive. Sometimes you have to hunt and kill, sometimes you have to be the one hunted and killed. It's ugly, but there's an order to it. It's a necessary evil. How many animals can you name me that kill one of their own because they didn't like the color of their skin? Or for believing in the wrong god? Or killed and ate them for no more than a sick pleasure rather than necessity? Or just killed them for the sheer thrill of it? How many?"
"Uh... none."
"Exactly. They don't do that. Only humans. I've seen all that and then more. You can hear an animal being hunted and eaten. I can hear them being raped, killed, and mutilated on a mass scale. An entire city was dedicated to suffering, and it was all turned toward my head. And the only thing that made it stop was a bomb killing everyone. Yeah, you're a good one, I'll give you that. But for every one of you, there's 100 more people that are willing to do all sorts of things you don't even want to hear. I once knew a family man that lived in our boarding home, he had a wife and two children. He raped dozens of little girls into his own sex harem, and he did it after convincing himself that he was saving them from worse rapists who would've hurt them."
The lone shared story made Eliza shudder in disgust and fear, imagining herself in a similar situation.
"The point is, people aren't worth saving. They all go bad eventually. Like an endless leak in a bucket, and I was the sole plug holding it up. And I'm tired of being the only thing holding it. It's burned me out. I'm so goddamn dragged down, it's hard to feel anything else anymore. All I want now is to rest." Arnold said.
Turning away from Eliza, Arnold laid his arms folded on the table, placing his head into them.
"You saved me." Eliza said.
Hearing her counterargument, Arnold looked towards her once again.
"What?" Arnold asked.
"You saved me. Why would you save me if you didn't believe in saving people anymore?" Eliza asked.
"You were in my jungle, and people were hurting the life in it. I had to stop them."
"You could've just ignored it if you wanted your rest."
"No, I couldn't. I can feel everything around me, anything alive. I went back to San Lorenzo because I was surrounded by people I know aren't bad at all. The poachers, the people who took you and your family, I needed them gone. They were like a pollutant in my head."
"But you still saved me and my family. You must still believe in doing some good."
"What difference does it make if I do?"
"You said it yourself, you were surrounded by people you knew had no bad in them. Maybe what you need isn't to get away from everyone. What you need is to be around people who are good again."
"Yeah? And who do you think qualifies?"
"I know a few."
Walking back up to Arnold, Eliza took his hand, pulling him off of his seat and urging him to follow.
"Hey, what are you-?" Arnold asked.
"Come with me. I want you to see something." Eliza said.
Taking Arnold along by the hand, Eliza led him to the bottom bunk of the Comvee, to the bedrooms of the family. Down below could be found Donnie, Shane, and Tucker of the Thornberry family, and also Otto and Twister of Rocket Power, where Shane, Donnie, and Tucker held their guitar, bass, and drums, respectively, and Otto and Twister held acoustic guitars.
Together, they played various songs together in a jam session, with Nigel, Sam, and Reggie sitting by and listening, with the former taking notice of the new arrivals.
"Ah, poppet, Arnold, why don't you come down and join us? Turns out the boys made friends with the surfers quite quickly, and they're playing some music." Nigel said.
"That's what you brought me here for? I knew they were playing down here. I can sense anything." Arnold dismissed.
"But you didn't hear the music for yourself. There's nothing like hearing a good song played live." Eliza said.
"If Otto can play anything good, it'd be nothing like I've heard from him before." Reggie joked.
"Oh, yeah? I'll have you know I got a lot better since No Worries. I won't go down as a one-hit wonder. Me and Twist have some good tunes." Otto said.
"He's right, you know, he's not half-bad. Besides, he's not the first one to use autotune to cover up his mistakes. Half the artists I knew back in the pop scene? They couldn't even pass glee club." Shane said.
"Yeah, yeah. Well, why don't you knock off the jam sessions and actually play us something?" Reggie asked.
"I'm with the lass, play us something. We'd love to hear a song." Nigel said.
The rest of the group encouraged Otto to play a song proper, giving him the will to fulfill their requests.
"Alright, alright. I got a classic one here. I was, uh, listening to this song a lot recently. It's been helping me get through some stuff. It's, uh... Well, it's just a good song. That's all I can say." Otto said.
Taking up his guitar, Otto began playing, starting a riff instantly recognized as the introduction of Under The Bridge by Red Hot Chili Peppers. The instant recognition brought about great hype from the group, all knowing the song and becoming more excited to hear it in full.
"Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner,
Sometimes I feel like my only friend,
Is the city I live in, the city of angels,
Lonely as I am, together we cry..." Otto sang.
The clear and soft yet strong voice in which Otto sang in greatly impressed the Thornberrys, who all cheered and clapped in response, encouraging Otto to continue. The excitement is felt by all in the group when the song plays, but Arnold does not indulge in the song with the others. Instead, he listened to it silently.
"I drive on her streets 'cause she's my companion,
I walk through her hills 'cause she knows who I am,
She sees my good deeds and she kisses me windy,
Well, I never worry, now, that is a lie..." Otto sang.
Nodding along to the song, the Thornberrys and the rest of Rocket Power began clapping along to the song, with some opting to pat their legs and Tucker clacking his drumsticks together. Arnold takes neither approach nor shows any signs he pays any attention to the song, save for his unbroken stare at Otto.
His focus is kept on the emotions that Otto expressed with his performance, picking up on them both audibly and empathically.
"I don't ever wanna feel like I did that day,
Take me to the place I love, take me all the way,
I don't ever wanna feel like I did that day,
Take me to the place I love, take me all the way..." Otto sang.
With the first chorus finished, the group is now fully invested in the song, and their utmost and undivided attention is given to it. Having held his bass guitar in silence, Donnie began playing along, providing a bassline, played acoustically as his guitar was not plugged in.
"It's hard to believe that there's nobody out there,
It's hard to believe that I'm all alone,
At least I have heard of the city, she loves me,
Lonely as I am, together we cry...
I don't ever wanna feel like I did that day,
Take me to the place I love, take me all the way,
I don't ever wanna feel like I did that day,
Take me to the place I love, take me all the way..." Otto sang.
When the final lyrics of the song came, the repeated line was sung by the entire group who knew them, again, save for Arnold, who merely listened.
"Under the bridge downtown..." The group sang.
"Is where I drew some blood..." Otto sang.
"Under the bridge downtown..."
"I could not get enough..."
"Under the bridge downtown..."
"Forgot about my love..."
"Under the bridge downtown..."
"I gave my life away..."
As the final notes to the song were played out, the full song came to an end, bringing ful applause from the group. Taking an exaggerated bow to the group, Otto gave his thanks for the applause, expressing his thankfulness like a showman bowing to a larger crowd.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you." Otto said.
In a gesture of brotherly love, Otto was grabbed in a side-hug by the Thornberry youths, shaking his hand in reparation for their doubts cast upon him.
"How the hell were you a one-hit wonder back in the day? You did great!" Shane cheered.
"To be honest, man, we all kind of sucked back then. We got better." Otto said.
"C'mon, man, I could sing back then. If I was the lead singer, we'd have been in a lot better place then." Twister protested.
"Yeah, sure, Twist. How about the wild boy here? He plays a good bassline."
"What can I say? Playing that song just feels right to me." Donnie said.
"I gotta play drums next time. We'll make it a full cover, maybe put it out as a single." Tucker said.
"You'll get royalty charges up the ass." Reggie said.
"Ah, we're good for it. I make plenty of money." Sam said.
The fun conversations and interactions between the two families brought about several releases of pleasant emotions and joy in the air, all of which were felt by Arnold.
The performance of the song let out somber emotions of suicide and sorrow that Otto has once felt, sending it out from his song as though exorcising an inner demon, and, without said demon, what is left is room for joy and happiness once again, and it is more than filled by the liveliness of his family and new friends.
All of it is fed directly into Arnold's mind, which, against his own will, ate it up with a ravenous need for happiness, gaining a large dose of it after being deprived of it for a long time. The reciprocation of joy goes against his own new, warped philosophy, and he blames himself for feeling it, forcing himself to turn his head away in an attempt to take his attention off of it.
It does not work, and it is obvious to both Nigel and Eliza that he feels the effects of the group.
"Something wrong, lad?" Nigel asked.
"It's nothing." Arnold dismissed.
"Looks more like something to me, Arnold. Perhaps you're feeling something you haven't felt in a long time."
"Like what?"
"Belonging. Community. Life. Life's meant to be lived among others, to be somewhere nice and noisy, and where you can connect with others."
"And where you can feed your head with something better than let all those angry thoughts stir around." Eliza added.
Eliza lightly grazed Arnold's cheek with her hand, giving a calming tactile stimulation that made him no longer turn his head.
"Somebody amazing like you shouldn't be so angry. Especially when you've got so much life in you to live." Eliza said.
No longer attempting to hide himself, Arnold instead looked to the group once again, allowing himself a more unrestricted dose of the positive emotions that were flying in the air. They bring him a levity that he was in much need of, whether he was willing to admit it or not, and, with the hopes of Nigel and Eliza, perhaps can take one step closer to believing in himself once again.
Gathering all their instruments, the boys prepare for another song, this time planning on playing as one.
"Alright, alright, hang on, let's do one together this time. Ready? One, two, one, two, three, four..." Otto said.
And as the journey of the Convee continues, and another song plays, Arnold continues his own journey as well.
-
The Tabootie household has been home to the family for at least 2 generations, with plans to keep going with the current generation now growing up in it.
It is often correctly said that a healthy home is the best place for a child to grow up in, guaranteeing the emotional stability needed to succeed in life and prevent any lifelong traumas. Carol and Carlos are the two children who will carry on the Tabootie family (by name, though that detail is of little importance), and Rudy and Penny do all they can to provide to them.
Selfless as they are to their children, they do not extend this same givingness to themselves. Some might call this trait admirable in a parent, and perhaps there is some truth in the statement, but there is also another statement of truth that negates what good there is in this attitude:
You cannot help others when you cannot help yourself.
However, therapy has helped them along through their relationship troubles, and they have taken a step further in getting the help that they have needed for their personal hang-ups. In turn, they have also been able to provide and be present for their children all the more, making for a healthier household that grows healthier by the day.
For Rudy Tabootie, he has never been happier.
Without the monkey on his back of anger and revenge, Rudy has been an even clearer presence for Carol and Carlos. Since his marriage to Penny, he has acted as a stay-at-home dad, spending what time he does not utilize on the duties of the house in play with his children.
And still having a strong child at heart, Carol and Carlos are lucky to have a father as fun as him, as shown by a game of Down to One spent together.
The objective of the game is simple: To win, a player must completely rid their deck of any cards, declaring 'down to one' when reduced to a single card. Carol has already declared that she had but one card remaining, and, not only did she deal her last card as a 'draw four cards'...
...but Rudy and Carlos held at least 10 cards each, and had difficulty ridding themselves of any of them, adding insult to injury.
"Out of cards, I win again!" Carol cheered.
"Again? Man, Carol, you're so good at this game. You kick our butts everytime. How do you do it?" Rudy asked.
"You boys are way too busy with your heads in the clouds. I inherited my mama's penchant for practicality and smarts."
"Still can write a comic way better than you can." Carlos said.
"Big deal."
"Now, come on, Carlos, don't be a sore loser. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. Obviously, board games with numbers is a weakness both you and I have. Be a little proud of your sister for being smart, it's good for her to be good at something, just like how you're good with comics like me." Rudy protested.
"Okay, fine. You're good at this game. But I'm still not happy." Carlos said.
"Yes, I know, little brother. Better luck next time." Carol teased.
Carlos playfully hit Carol for her tease, prompting her to playfully hit him back, pulling him into a hug. What could have began as violence between siblings turned out to be a healthy act of humor, showing the love both siblings had for each other. The sight makes Rudy happy as his children are, and he grabbed them into a hug to join in, making the scene a full showing of family love.
The front door to the home opened to show Penny walking back in from work, who looked on the happy moment with joy of her own.
"Well, I can see you all had plenty of fun together while I was away." Penny joked.
Seeing their mother return home, Carol and Carlos broke their hug off from Rudy to hug her as well, greeting her from her return home.
"Mama!" Carol and Carlos cheered.
Holding her children in a hug as they returned to her, Penny looked up to see Rudy walking towards her, kissing her on the lips when they met.
"Have a good day at work, Penny?" Rudy asked.
"Just fine, Rudy. Just the usual research and studies, pushing numbers." Penny said.
"Well, I hope you worked up an appetite, you got a big dinner coming up in a few minutes."
"Good. I gotta head upstairs and get changed first, then we can all sit down together and eat."
"Sounds great."
After sharing one last kiss, Penny left Rudy to go upstairs, planning on making herself more comfortable for the rest of the day to be spent at home. With his wife tending to her afterwork duties, Rudy rushed the children off to the kitchen with the intent to follow them in.
Once he made his way towards the kitchen, however, the sound of a powerful engine caught his ear, urging him to turn around and see what the cause of it was. Looking out the window of the house, he saw a large RV with tiger stripes painted across it, rolling down the street and coming to a stop in front of the house.
"Dad? Hey, dad, we need your help reaching the-" Carol began to ask.
Running back with the intent to request help in the kitchen, Carol inevitably began looking out the window at the mobile home parked outside of their front house, and kept an even greater curiosity at the characters stepping out of it, starting with a man in a trenchcoat and single blade of hair, a football-headed man, and at least one man she recognized.
"Hey! That's Nigel Thornberry from TV! What's he doing here?" Carol asked.
"I don't know, Carol. But it looks like they're here for us." Rudy said.
Before the group could make their first impression by knocking on the door, Rudy opened it, greeting the guests as they arrived.
"Afternoon, gentlemen, what can I do for you?" Rudy asked.
-
'Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country'.
This quote from President John F. Kennedy, first spoken at his inauguration and often repeated as a call to action, is what echoes with Rudy Tabootie's first question towards his unexpected guests. One is a television show host of a nature program, one is the son of his wife's employer, and the last is, or at least was, the Green Eye.
They come with tales of a future dominated by aliens, and only a handful of people with special abilities acting as humanity's last gasp before extinction. They also tell that one of the aliens responsible for this invasion is here on Earth now, and he poses a threat even greater than the invasion itself.
As Rudy listened to the story, Penny sat alongside him, and their children stayed in the kitchen, interacting with the rest of the Comvee's passengers.
The full conversation has taken place in the living room, with Rudy and Penny sitting on the couch, and they hang on every single word. They took it in with the same harrowing and fear that anyone would get from hearing how the Earth comes to an end, and that they would live to see it come to pass for themself.
"And that's what's brought us to you, Mr. Tabootie. And, yes, I understand that this might all sound a bit strange to someone like you-" Dib started to say.
"No, I believe it." Rudy interrupted.
"-being a man in... Wait, did you just say you do believe it?"
"Yeah. I mean, after all, why else would the Green Eye, Nigel Thornberry, and my wife's boss' son be standing in my living room?"
"And scientifically speaking, it's not too far out there that aliens exist, and time travel's got to be possible, too. We've been working on several theories at Membrane Labs." Penny added.
The unironic and sincere acceptance of Dib's story made him respond with wide eyes and a jaw agape, soon turning to tears of joy.
"Yes! Oh, god, yes! Thank you! Somebody finally thinks I'm not crazy!" Dib cheered.
"Actually, I just said that I believe your story. You definitely look like a crazy guy." Rudy added.
Dib's enthusiasm was snuffed out in an instant, sulking into defeat back in his seat.
"I spoke too soon. Of course there's no god to thank." Dib grunted.
"Also, I'm not the Green Eye anymore. Let's not forget that fact." Arnold added.
"Well, hold on, now, what makes you so eager to accept the truth so fast? I was hardly able to swallow it myself when I heard the situation." Nigel said.
"If you know who I am, you shouldn't have to ask that." Rudy responded.
"Actually, uh, that's the thing. We don't know why we're here for you." Dib said.
The explanation made both Arnold and Nigel turn to him in shock and confusion, not understanding the meaning of Dib's additional fact.
"What do you mean, you don't know why we're here for him? You said the robot told you everything, and who to find." Arnold said.
"I also said the robot was severely malfunctioning. It was only able to tell me a handful of things, primarily the people I need to find. Everything else was bits and pieces." Dib explained.
"You said Gerald wasn't on the list. Why did you have us stop for him?"
"It was you who sent the message. Gerald Johannsen was your partner in Hillwood when you were both crimefighters. I figured it would be a good investment to pick him up as well. Unfortunately, that didn't pay off."
Rudy cleared his throat, interrupting their conversation and putting the attention back on himself.
"Uh, guys, if you really don't know what I can do or what I have to offer, maybe I can show you myself." Rudy said.
"And I can break it down a little better for you myself. Do you have anyone among you science-oriented who can confirm it for us?" Penny asked.
"Yeah, hang on." Arnold said.
Walking to the kitchen, Arnold saw the rest of the group sitting at the table, with Carol and Carlos serving coffee and snacks to the guests. Most of the refreshments, especially the coffee, is consumed by Marianne, who has spent many nights and days driving the mobile home across America to find their teammates.
Chugging down her 4th cup, Marianne moaned in delight at the taste of the coffee, giving her show of appreciation for their brewing skills.
"Mmm... Mmm-mmm-mmm, children, that is the most wonderful coffee I've ever had. You two ought to open your own barista with that kind of skill." Marianne praised.
"Thanks, Mrs. Thornberry. Comes with having a scientist and artist for parents, they both work long and late." Carol said.
Turning to see Arnold enter the kitchen, Carlos tapped Carol on the shoulder, prompting her to turn around and look at what he saw. Both siblings laid eyes on a man whose very presence brought joy and admiration from his appearance, making both light up as though they met a celebrity.
As soon as the gasp of surprise came out of Carol's mouth, both brother and sister ran up to him, looking up at him with faces of delight.
"You're him, aren't you?" Carlos asked.
"Yeah, it's got to be you! You're the Green Eye!" Carol cheered.
Even with his current attitude towards his former life as a superhero, and previously treating anyone who spoke of it with an anger and dismissal in his voice, Arnold still was not comfortable with treating the children in the same way, making him hold his tongue before them.
"Uh... Who wants to know?" Arnold asked.
"I'm Carol. This is my brother, Carlos. He's a comic book artist, and he draws superheroes sometimes. I'm kind of a big fan, too. You're just, like, really, really cool." Carol said.
Carlos handed Arnold a piece of paper, prompting him to take it. Upon taking the paper from the boy, Arnold opened it up to see its contents.
What was inside was a pin-up drawing of himself as the Green Eye, depicted in the act of jumping in the air in a heroic manner. Behind him was a strike of lightning, with text below reading 'THE GREEN EYE: THE ORIGINAL HILLWOOD HERO", all with bright colors and painstaking detail to him.
"Drew it myself. Really inspired by what you did. You're a hero." Carlos said.
The tribute almost flatters him, and it brings him guilt that he does not appreciate it as much as it was meant for him to.
"Um... Yeah, it's uh... It's really great, it's really great. You're a great artist. Thanks for showing me that." Arnold said.
Arnold attempted to hand the drawing back to Carlos, but he pushed it back.
"Keep it. I want you to have it." Carlos said.
Forced to take yet another reminder of his life as the Green Eye, Arnold gained judging eyes from the rest of the group, none wishing to see him disappoint the child. Swallowing his pride and keeping up a facade of kindness, Arnold folded the pin-up again and placed it in his pocket, nodding to Carlos.
"Uh... Thanks. Thank you. I'll put this here in my pocket so it doesn't get hurt, okay?" Arnold said.
"Okay." Carlos said.
Having waited for Arnold for too long, Rudy entered the kitchen to see what impeded his progress.
"Hey Arnold, everything alright?" Rudy asked.
"Uh, yeah, just, uh... Saying hi to your kids. Hey, uh, Sam? Uh, Squid, right?" Arnold asked.
"Yeah?" Sam asked.
"I need you to come with us for a minute. We need your science... uh, mindedness."
"Sure. Thanks for the coffee, guys."
Getting up from his seat at the table, Sam followed Arnold and Rudy to the staircase, joining Penny, Dib, and Nigel up the stairs.
"Your son, is he, uh...?" Arnold began to ask.
"Autistic? Yeah." Rudy answered.
"I figured. Got a cousin like him. He's not an artist or anything, he, uh, reads ingredients on food boxes."
"My wife does that, too, but that's because she wants the kids eating right."
Arnold scoffed in amusement at Rudy's joke, following the rest of the way in silence.
The destination they arrive at is a small room dedicated to drawing and art, with desks holding unfinished drawings and various stationery items and drawing utensils, all intended to become comic book art. None of them are what Rudy or Penny focus on, however, and what does gain their focus is what they least expect to be of any interest:
A chalkboard, placed upon a stand.
"So, I'm assuming you're all familiar with chalkboards, correct?" Rudy asked.
"In more ways than one, I'm afraid. Our old schoolteacher would run his fingernails across it when we would act up, the old ironside." Nigel answered.
"Of course. Now, to show you it's not been treated or tampered with, all of you hold it and inspect it for yourself; pass it around."
Rudy removed the chalkboard from its stand and handed it to the first in the group, giving each a chance to inspect it.
"I appreciate the attempt at transparency, but what does this have to do with anything?" Dib asked.
"I'm getting to that. Just trying to prove this isn't a trick." Rudy said.
"Prove what's not a trick?" Arnold asked.
Placing the chalkboard back on its stand, Rudy took out a piece of magic chalk, placing it to the edge of the board.
"This." Rudy answered.
Drawing along the lines of the chalkboard, the chalk drawn began to sparkle against the green of the board, and, when the line drawn had reached all the way around the edges of the board, the green of the board completely disappeared in a bright flash, and showing way to what laid on the other side.
The group of four looked with wonder, joining the small number of humans who now knew of ChalkZone.
From the glimpse given from the portal, the group could see various things, sentient, sapient, and else, beyond description, all completely comprised of chalk. To lay eyes on this forbidden world, the group is compelled to lean in and inspect further, gaining a closer look inside.
"What is this?" Arnold asked.
"This, is ChalkZone. Anything you draw on a chalkboard or draw with chalk, then erase, it ends up here." Rudy explained.
"In layman's terms, we live in the third dimension, and ChalkZone is the second dimension. I've been doing some research and writing on it in my spare time, and there's not a whole lot I can say to make a lot of it make sense. I can only sum it up by saying... Well... it's magic." Penny said.
"It's 'magic'? What kind of scientist are you?" Dib asked.
"One who keeps an open mind. Especially when I see things for myself."
"I spent a lot of my childhood in this place, and, uh, almost all my teenage and adult life, too. That whole story about how I was a missing child? Well, this is where I was." Rudy continued.
Picking up the chalkboard again, Rudy handed it off to the group, allowing them to inspect it again.
"Now, see it again for yourself. Go ahead and stick your hand in the portal." Rudy said.
Each member of the group did so, acting carefully as they prodded the unknown beyond the portal, passing it down the line until it reached Dib...
"Hi, there!" Snap greeted.
...and a blue Zoner named Snap popped his head out of the portal, frightening Dib into a scream and making him drop the portal.
As the chalkboard fell on the floor, the impact caused Snap to stumble and fall back through the portal, landing back in ChalkZone. Reaching up to the portal, Snap pulled himself back up, looking back at Dib with a look of disappointment for how, as he saw, was roughly treated.
"Oy caloy, one of the few people I meet with a head as big as mine, and he ain't got the brains to be careful." Snap snarked.
"Hey, I do not have a big head! I... Who are you, anyway?" Dib protested.
"Oh, this is Snap. He's one of my oldest drawings and friends." Rudy explained.
"Matter a' fact, all youse guys have big and weird heads. Rudy, who are all these people? And why are you showin' 'em ChalkZone?" Snap asked.
"Long story, Snap, I'll tell you later. Right now, this is kind of important."
"Oh, oh, alright. Well, fill me in later, Rudy. I wouldn't wanna miss this."
Falling back through the portal, Snap disappeared from sight, and permanently so when Rudy erased the portal.
"The rules of ChalkZone are simple: Anything you draw on a chalkboard and erase, it comes back over there. Anything you draw in ChalkZone, it can be erased once in the real world and comes back in ChalkZone, but, erase it after that, and that's it." Rudy explained.
"So, your power's the ability to draw anything." Sam said.
"But you can only do it with one of those chalkboards. Sounds pretty cumbersome to me." Arnold said.
"It would be, but I don't need it to draw anything. Thanks to something else that happened to me, I can draw in the real world, too." Rudy said.
Demonstrating the ability in real time, Rudy took a piece of plain chalk and drew in the air, making a small, thick cylinder. As the drawing was complete, the empty geometric shape filled in to form words and drawings on it, forming a can of Yahoo Soda in an instant.
Taking the can as it formed, Rudy looked on to the amazed looks of the others, finding all of their mouths agape.
"You... You can draw in two dimensions, and it comes into formation here? But... That's like having a fourth-dimensional shape like a tesseract come into ours. This goes beyond anything I've seen in geometrical possibilities." Sam stammered.
"Like I said, it's magic. Sometimes that's the best way you can explain things sometimes." Penny said.
"Or magic is just science we don't understand yet." Arnold added.
After taking the can of Yahoo Soda, Rudy held it out to the group.
"Yahoo soda?" Rudy offered.
"Sure, lad! I'm parched!" Nigel cheered.
Taking the can, Nigel pulled the tab to open it, beginning to gulp down its contents. As soon as the liquid entered his mouth, however, his taste buds sensed the taste of chalk rather than cola, and the rest of his body reacted accordingly, spitting out the contents in disgust.
"Oh, good god, man, this tastes like chalk!" Nigel groaned.
"Yeah, I forgot to mention: Any food or drinks you draw, you have to keep your mouth dry when you eat it. Because spit's a liquid, and liquid erases chalk, making it lose the magic it had." Rudy said.
"And I'm assuming you can draw more than just sodas, correct?" Dib asked.
"Anything you can think of."
"Including weapons?" Arnold asked.
"Including weapons that don't exist yet."
"That's very good. You'll definitely prove very helpful when you're helping us fight off the Irkens." Dib said.
Dib's final comment made the conversation take a turn, making Rudy's kind demeanor turn to that of skepticism.
"Wait. Is that why you're telling me all this? Because you want me to fight for you?" Rudy asked.
"Yeah. What'd you think we were asking for?" Sam asked.
Penny also grew nervous at the request, grabbing onto Rudy in a hug, and shaking her head.
"I... I'm sorry. I can't." Rudy said.
Predictably, the answer given by Rudy is not to the liking of the others, who are disappointed that they failed to secure another member of the team they needed. Determined to see their numbers increase, none were willing to give up so quickly, and pressed on to change Rudy's mind.
"Mr. Tabootie, you don't seem to understand. We need your help." Dib insisted.
"I can't help you. Not for what you're asking me to do." Rudy said.
"But for you, fighting an entire army of aliens would be a piece of cake. You could, like, draw a dozen missiles and wipe them all out." Sam argued.
"You don't understand. I can't fight at all. It's not in me anymore."
"What does that mean?" Arnold asked.
"I told you I spent a lot of time in ChalkZone as a teenager and adult. It wasn't by my own choice. I was trapped by... somebody I did wrong by accident. He made an alliance with somebody bad, and they forced me to survive on my own. I couldn't draw anymore for years, and it wasn't until Carol and Carlos when I finally found myself again. I got home... but I didn't fully leave ChalkZone. I... I still have an anger in me that I can't control, and I only recently started in therapy. I've been making a lot of progress. I don't want to mess that up and lose myself again."
"You're going to leave the world to be destroyed by aliens because you're in therapy? I don't know whether or not you noticed, but, if the Irkens have their way, there won't be anymore therapy. Don't you get it?" Dib asked.
"And what if I do fight and help you win? I'll have taken so many steps back, I don't know if I'll be able to find myself again. I have a wife and kids to think about. I don't want them to lose their father."
"Wars aren't just fought by the childless, you know. My father fought in the Great War, back when I was just a lad. You'd be fighting for their safety as well as the safety of everyone else on Earth." Nigel added.
"I have my own war to fight. My answer is still no."
The conversation ends in disappointment yet again, and the moment prompts the group to leave for their next destination.
"Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Tabootie. We'll be on our way now." Nigel said.
Nigel is the first to leave, with Dib close behind and Sam after, Arnold shared a small moment of silence looking at Rudy, silently showing his understanding of his decision. No words are needed for what they shared, and both have a feeling that rings somber and true...
...but both come to the opposite conclusions of their shared troubles, which Arnold must comment on.
"I understand your decision, Rudy. But you're not the only one dealing with your own demons." Arnold said.
Taking the drawing given to him by Carlos out of his pocket, Arnold handed it to Rudy.
"Your son drew a picture of me as... who I used to be. It's a nice gesture, but I can't accept this." Arnold said.
Still sharing his empathy for him, Rudy rolled Arnold's fingers over the paper, urging him to keep it.
"We all have our ways of dealing with our demons. Some have different ways than others." Rudy said.
Letting out a small sigh, Arnold headed out the door with the rest, leaving the Tabootie family behind.
Rudy and Penny followed back down the stairs, meeting their children in the kitchen. Seeing the departure of their guests and watching them pile back into the Comvee, Carol and Carlos looked on both them and their parents in confusion, having some idea of what had taken place, but not knowing why it ended the way it did.
"Mama? Dad? What was that all about?" Carol asked.
"It was nothing, kids. They just needed to talk to your father and I." Penny said.
"Did the Green Eye ask you for help?" Carlos asked.
The answer comes with hesitation from Rudy, who felt shame over his decision in light of how Carlos saw Arnold.
"Yes. Yes, he did." Rudy said.
"You told him no." Carlos said.
Another hesitation came with a sigh and his head turned away, forcing Rudy to confess something uncomfortable to his son.
"I had to." Rudy said.
"Why? He's the Green Eye. You have powers, too. You can help him." Carlos said.
"It's not that simple, Carlos. It's... It's not something that you'll understand until you're older."
"I know the Green Eye's a hero. That's all I need to understand."
Forced to face Carlos' persistence on the subject, Penny intervened to free him from his tough discussion, asserting her parental authority to do so.
"That's enough, Carlos. Go on and help your sister get everyone ready for dinner." Penny ordered.
Rushing off in a frustrated manner, both children obeyed their mother to see to dinner, leaving Penny alone with Rudy to see to his well-being.
"Are you okay, Rudy?" Penny asked.
"Did I make the right choice?" Rudy asked.
Penny herself now found it difficult to answer, unsure of the right answer herself.
"Only you can know that." Penny said.
Giving Rudy a kiss on the cheek, Penny headed into the kitchen to join her children, helping prepare dinner for the rest of the family. Left to consider his question on his own, Rudy now is unsure of himself, and, caught between his desire for mental health, and his own desire to do right, finds no clear answer as to what is good in this situation.
Taking the time to contemplate, Rudy sat on the couch to think.
-
As the Comvee departed, the group stayed silent in dejection, lamenting that yet another member of the team that they required would not join them. Arnold is the most silent, but his silence comes less from the refusal, and the interaction he shared with the son of their desired teammate.
Taking the pin-up out of his pocket, Arnold unfolded it to look upon it once again, looking at the image sketched upon it. Looking at it, he sees himself through the eyes of a child, glorified and shown in a light that makes him a hope and a hero to many, giving an image that others can look up to.
Inside, he feels disgust and shame at what he has lived through, and how it has changed him. Not only does he not believe in the idea of the Green Eye any longer, no longer seeing it as serving any other purpose than to perpetuate false hope in a world that does not forgive or have mercy...
...but he also no longer believes that he is worthy of being seen in that light.
Chapter 16: Chapter 14: Invaders From Irk, Part 7
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 14: INVADERS FROM IRK, PART 7
Helga Pataki is an addict.
Never given her proper care and attention as a child, she was forced to seek out other means to fulfill her needs, and they had come to her in the form of a kindly boy named Arnold Shortman. Given her first taste of the boy gave her a taste of what she craved, she became addicted to him.
This addiction followed her all throughout life, thinking of him at every turn and pursuing him to get her fix of him. Every sight of him is yet another hit that feeds her needs, masked behind a shell of anger and abrasiveness used to ensure no one would ever know of her one weakness. Many times has she gotten close, even stealing a kiss and making a confession of her love, only to take it back and hide once again.
After 12 years of pursuit, she finally had her prize when she made him hers, sharing their first genuine kiss in the city of the Green-Eyed People.
Then, he left in an angry state of turmoil that left her without her fix.
Still she remained addicted, waiting for her drug to return to her, slavishly waiting, feeling her body weaken from her dependence on him. She was given the parental love she loved at last from Miles and Stella Shortman, the ones who brought her drug into the world, but it still was not enough to give her the fix she needed.
Until he returned, and fell into her arms in love and devotion yet again, giving her what she craved.
With a steady dose of her drug and diet of support to go along with it, the drug that once served as nothing more than a pacifier to her mind soon became medicine, used properly and given in a way that allowed her to heal. And heal she did, soon making her way to becoming a whole and healthy young woman...
...but the damage that was done in her childhood remained long enough to fester into adulthood, making her unable to finish her therapy well. This obstacle, combined with the trials and tribulations that Arnold was put through, put them both to their worst, straining their relationship to its absolute breaking point.
Until it finally broke, leaving her alone and without her fix again.
Fooled not once, but twice on the drug of Arnold Shortman, she knows better than to return to him again. But this has not stopped her body or mind from their dependency on him, leaving the void in her heart waiting to be filled by something else that could give her what her soul needed.
What she found was not something ethereal, but something physical:
Heroin.
Everyday, she has let this substance enter her body, inserting needles into her arm and injecting it, letting the chemicals soothe her brain and provide her with a temporary state of euphoria to ease her pain. In taking in this new drug, she is giving her heart and soul the unhealthy filling to the craving that it had...
...and all the while, her body continues to grow weaker and sicker.
Looking at her arm, Helga saw black-purple spots begin to show in the skin, showing her first signs of this sickness with track marks.
"Shit." Helga mumbled.
The track marks were not large, merely looking like small welts, but were arranged in a way that made it obvious that she was a heroin user.
Being the younger sister and housemate of a member of congress, this would mean not only an outcome negative and unwanted with Olga's discovery of her habit, but also greater implications for her job, making it necessary for her to think of a way to begin concealing the track marks.
The plans to prevent this knowledge to Olga soon became harder as a knock on the door to her room was heard, made by her sister.
"Helga? Baby sister?" Olga asked.
"Uh, one second!" Helga called.
Looking about her room, Helga searched for quick means to hide the track marks, finding an easy solution with the use of a jacket, finding it laying on the floor in a messy manner. Taking the jacket off the floor, Helga put it on, ensuring the sleeves were rolled down, finally opening the door to Olga's call in a tired manner.
"Hey." Helga greeted.
"Hey. Are you wearing a jacket indoors?" Olga asked.
"Yeah. I'm a little cold."
"Oh, I can turn up the heat if you like."
"No, I'm fine. Don't worry about it."
"It's no bother, I was a little cold myself-"
"Olga, please. Being nice, I appreciate. Being babied, I don't. All I need is the jacket."
"Okay, if you say so. I'm sorry."
"What's up?"
"Oh, I'm having another dinner with the governor. I was coming to tell you to get dressed."
"Why? You expect me to go to that crap?"
"Well, I thought it might be good for you to get out of the house a little. You'll get to meet some of the people I work with."
"If I want to hang out with a bunch of environmentalists and uppity college kids, I'll go to the farmer's market."
"Oh, come on, Helga, they're not that annoying. Well... Okay, they're a little full of themselves sometimes, but they do mean well, and they fight for things that matter. It might be good for you to meet people who are really passionate about things."
"I'm not interested."
"You got something better to do than stay in bed all day?"
"Yeah, watch some TV."
"Helga. There's free food, you know."
"I can order takeout."
"Helga. Please, I can't have you just spend all day in the house like this. It's not healthy. Can you just please do this for me? I don't think I'm asking a lot of you."
"A little more than you think. But, if you so insist... I guess I'll just go for the free food."
The answer brought Olga a slight degree of joy, displaying it in an attempt to rub it off on Helga.
"That's my baby sister. I'm getting ready to leave in 10 minutes, so, be ready soon, okay?" Olga asked.
"Stop calling me 'baby sister' and you got a deal, sister." Helga snarked.
Letting out a dismissive chuckle, Olga walked off to prepare herself for departure, leaving Helga to close the door. Left with a limited timeframe to see to her track marks, Helga looked about her room, trying to find a solution to her problem. The jacket provided a temporary cover, but not one that she could rely on, making her look about her room to find something else.
Glancing at her dresser, another idea came to her, and she acted on it with haste.
Helga moved to her dresser, taking out containers of makeup, picking out a bottle that resembled her own skin tone. Opening up the container, Helga took a brush and began covering over the track marks, concealing them from sight as not to let Olga know of her drug use.
The idea worked, bringing Helga delight as she made a victorious grunt as the first track mark she brushed over was hidden away and out of sight. With one of many track marks needing to be covered up, Helga took the brush and dabbed more makeup on it, taking to her arm to continue covering up the marks.
Perhaps this tactic will become more of a habit than her usage of the drug itself, and used to ensure that no one else knows of her addiction, maybe even convince herself that it does not exist. For now, the addiction is still present, and has only been hidden for a short time longer, causing more problems than it solved.
But still does her body need its fix, and lies serve her no good.
-
The search continues for heroes to fight against the incoming Irken invasion.
So far, only one of their stops for recruitment has led to success, and the following two have resulted in failures. This leaves the chances of defeating the incoming Irken invasion growing slimmer and every potential loss threatens to make it even slimmer.
This makes any further failure not an option.
The next stop they have made is in a town in Illinois named Amity Park, where the subject they are in search of currently rests at home, partially at work on the comic series Danny Phantom: The Living Ghost. He has already worked on the final draft of the script for the latest issue...
...and, in the office of his parents' home, he has printed it out and handed it off to the artist of the series, allowing her the chance to sketch out the artwork behind it. Both have spent a considerable amount of time writing it together, both coming up with the plots, with ideas for dialogue and fight scenes being coordinated with contributions from both of them.
The writer is a young man named Danny Fenton.
The artist is a young woman named Sam Manson.
A well-known fact about the two is that they are not only a collaborative comic creator team, but they are also in a relationship together. What was once a known fact is that the adventures they write about were once reality, and they once fought the spectral remains of the dead as a team. A deal was made, and no longer is this fact known by anyone else in the world, save for two.
One is me, and the other is Vlad Plasmius.
Danny Fenton and Sam Manson are not aware of this fact, unaware of their past life and the adventures shared in it, save for what they can recall to turn into pulp fiction. It has brought them both fame and fortune to be able to tell their stories in a visual medium, but it also leaves something unfulfilled in their soul.
Unable to live out the lives they once did, both have an emptiness inside them, and it eats away at them daily, all to their detriment and ignorance.
"Here you go, Sam. Yet another banger of a comic for you to draw out for me. Just make sure you get the hair right this time." Danny joked.
"Oh, ha-ha. Is having a comic modeled after yourself adding to that ego of yours now? You're lucky you're photogenic enough to look good as a superhero." Sam joked.
"Hey, if Howard Chaykin can do it, why not me? At least I don't do it with every character I write."
"No, just the one character you write."
The two shared a chuckle at the joke, but the silence that followed brought about a thoughtfulness that made their humorous moment seem to be miles away. For years have they had the thoughts they had, but neither have fully had an understanding of why they think the way they do, or how to resolve the feelings.
Danny is the one who chooses to think about them more, and seek a better solution, starting by talking with Sam.
"Hey, Sam. You ever been wondering like... there's something missing?" Danny asked.
The question as asked by Danny gave Sam a clearer insight to the reasons why she does what she does, and also confronted her to be honest with herself.
"Sometimes I do. Where'd this question come from?" Sam asked.
"I don't know. I just... feel this way sometimes. I don't really know why. Jazz says it's just part of growing up, but I'm already grown up." Danny said.
"Of course she would say that, she babies you a lot."
"She cares about me."
"She also makes you take those pills that keep zonking you out half the time. You can barely get hard when you take one of those."
The remark made about Danny's sexual functions made him turn sour and uncomfortable, engaging in conversation with disdain.
"Is that really all you think about?" Danny asked.
"Excuse me?" Sam asked.
"You heard me. You're always trying to get me in the sack, and throw other people in the mix, too."
"Last I checked, that's not something a lot of guys complain about."
"Well, I am. Why do you always involve me in it?"
"Because I'm your girlfriend, and you're my boyfriend. Usually boyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to have sex together. You know, that's kind of the point."
"With each other, yeah, not with other people involved."
"Why not? We're rock stars, Danny. We might as well live like we are."
"I don't want to be a rock star. I don't even like the spotlight all that much. I just want... Ah, I don't know what I really want. That's the point. But I know that I don't want that. I just feel gross and dirty afterward."
Danny's confession made Sam's conscience grow heavy; seeing him react negatively drove her to drop her carefree attitude to be more sincere.
"Shit, well, I'm sorry, Danny. I thought you'd like to have some fun while we're both young. I'm not trying to make you feel like that." Sam said.
"No, you don't seem to think about much except for what you want, do you?" Danny asked.
"No, I don't! I just... Look. Maybe... Maybe I have my own way of dealing with feeling like something's missing. I like taking risks and getting into messy situations. I feel like I've always supposed to have been doing something like that, but... it doesn't fit right. Like, it's not exactly what I'm looking for."
"Then why do you still do it?"
"Because it's as close as I can get. And maybe I need to experiment to find it out."
"Sure you're still not just thinking about what you want?"
"I'm thinking about you, too, Danny. That's why I have you with me on that journey."
Taking a seat in a nearby office chair, Sam rolled her own chair up to Danny while he sat in his, attempting to present herself in a more sincere manner.
"I know you're looking for something, too, Danny. I knew that for a long, long time. Back when everything first happened." Sam said.
"When what happened?" Danny asked.
"You know what I mean."
Danny does indeed understand the unspoken factor in the equation, and he knows how it has affected the lives of everyone he has known ever since.
"Yeah. I do. But I don't like to think about it." Danny said.
"Maybe you should. It might help you get through it." Sam said.
"Maybe you should talk more instead of trying to drown out everything with sex and drugs."
Forced to confront her own dangerous habits, Sam's sincerity once again turned to hostility, rolling herself back in her chair.
"Sometimes it helps if I drown it out. I don't like to think about things like that all the time. I have enough problems in my life, especially with the rest of my family bearing down on me. It's the one little escape I get from my problems." Sam said.
"You said yourself that it doesn't fit. You're still willing to do something that doesn't work?" Danny asked.
"It's all I got. Nothing else I have comes close."
"And all you have to do to get it is drag me along with you."
Unable to stomach the fight any longer, Sam stood up from her chair, taking the finished script with her.
"I thought it was you who wanted to share life with me when you first kissed me. When you confessed that you actually love me. Did you not mean that when you said it?" Sam asked.
"Maybe... I'm not sure who you are anymore." Danny said.
With a sigh, Sam shook her head, taking a glace to the door before embarking on her trip towards it.
"I'm gonna go home and work on this. You... You just do whatever you want." Sam said.
"Sure I will. I'm a grown-ass man. I can do anything I want without your permission." Danny said.
Walking out the door to the office, Sam moved down the stairs, putting a cigarette in her mouth and lighting it as she prepared to make her exit. As Danny left her to leave by herself, guilt settled into his mind, prompting him to get up from his chair and run to the stairs, catching up to her.
"Look, Sam, I'm sorry, I- Wait, are you smoking in the house?" Danny asked.
Taking a deep inhale of her coffin nail, Sam let out a breath of cigarette smoke, confirming Danny's question before she could do so with words.
"Yeah. I need my smokes. Keeps me off the edge." Sam answered.
"Don't do it in the house. My parents and Jazz are gonna say something." Danny said.
"So what? You're a grown-ass man who can do whatever you want. So what if they think you smoke? It's not a big deal."
"That's not what... Forget it. I was trying to say I was sorry. Maybe I'm just a little off in between the meds and the therapy. I know Jazz is trying to set me straight, but, like you said, it doesn't fit right."
"Then why don't you just stand up to her and say you don't want it?"
"Because it's the closest thing I have, just like you said. And I do believe I can actually get a little better if I just hold on."
Sympathetic to Danny's dilemma, Sam approached him again and kissed him, leaving an unwanted taste of tobacco in his mouth, but an act of forgiveness on it.
"Maybe I will, too. But I'm trying to help you, too, you know. Your sister's focused on the scientific stuff, but the important stuff." Sam said.
"And that is?" Danny asked.
Sam responded by pointing at Danny's head, playfully poking it.
"What's in here. The mind. The spirit. The ghost." Sam said.
"Now you're getting religious on me?" Danny asked.
"Nope. I didn't even attend my own Bat Mitzvah. But there's a little bit of truth in everything. And in a world where nothing really makes sense and you don't know the truth, the only real people you can trust are crazy and wasted people, because they always tell the truth."
"Oh, so you think I'm crazy?"
"No. I'm saying you should trust yourself more. Those ideas you always have? The images you always see? Maybe there's something to learn in them. Don't just try to drown them out. Listen to yourself sometimes."
Giving Danny one last kiss, Sam walked down the stairs again, heading for the door.
"You're smoking up the whole house." Danny said.
"So get an air freshener." Sam said.
Opening the front door, Sam walked through it, shutting itself behind her and leaving.
Having watched Sam leave, Danny was left alone, having no trace of her left but the advice she gave to him. Self-reflection and contemplation reign over him, causing him to second-guess the idea of life he once had, and what he believed was a way towards a healthy mind again.
Staying on the staircase, he made one stair his seat, propping his head up with his hands and moping to himself as the answers to his newly-posed questions laid unclear. He has already made his way through adolescence, but it seems that he has not yet progressed through all the troubles that it brought about, as though his own growth was stunted by something gone wrong in his life.
He does not know why, but he knows what had caused this change:
The Ghost Portal.
Standing in the portal has been the genesis of his troubles, leading him to having never touching it, looking at it, or even been in the basement which occupied it for years out of fear. There is no logical explanation that can be made for his reaction to it, especially not by his intelligent and science-oriented sister, making the portal more and more of a mystery to him.
The thoughts regarding the mystery is cut short as a knock on the door was heard, and Danny unseated himself to head to the door. Believing Sam to be the one knocking on the front door, Danny opened it casually and carelessly, speaking to her in a snarky attitude...
"What's the matter, you forget your lighter?" Danny asked.
...only to have his attitude change to confusion as he stood before a group of strangers, all bearing large heads, all with unusual shapes.
"Hello, Mr. Fenton. Might we have a few minutes to speak with you?" Dib asked.
-
Danny Fenton is then given the full recounting of the situation at hand, as the others have been, but Danny is not so quick to accept it as the others. Rocket Power, Gerald, and Rudy have all had their experiences with the paranormal and supernatural, and could accept the situation with enough ease and an open mind.
In another life and timeline, Danny could have easily accepted this reality and been quick to help, being a supernatural being himself who fought the supernatural.
But this is not that time or that Danny. He does not accept what he is being told, not out of the mouth of Dib Membrane or of Arnold Shortman, even after accepting that the latter is the Green Eye, and does his best to try to make what sense he can out of the conversation.
"Uh, guys, this is all a really cool idea for a comic, but I think you guys might be better off doing it on your own. I'm pretty busy with my own stuff now-" Danny tried to say.
"This isn't a pitch for a comic, Mr. Fenton. What we're describing to you is as real as a heart attack. That's why we need your help." Dib said.
"No, no, look, I'm not Danny Phantom, or whatever you think. Danny Phantom's just a comic book character. I write him while my girlfriend does the art. It's not real."
"Yes, it is, and yes, you are."
"Listen, take it from me. I'm in therapy myself, and it's helping out a lot. I think maybe you should seek out some help yourself. You sound like you need it."
"I agree with that idea, but the part about the aliens he's not just making up. I've seen one of their ships for myself. Besides, I'm a real-life superhero- Ungh... I was a real-life superhero. You don't have to hide your secrets from us." Arnold added.
"I don't have any secrets to hide. I'm telling you, I'm not Danny Phantom. He's just a comic book character I write."
Following Danny's reply, Arnold analyzed him with an empathic scan, detecting his emotions to search for any inconsistencies. The scan revealed nothing that showed any signs of lying or deception, but instead all signs of the complete truth, leading Arnold to raise his eyebrow in curiosity.
"Dib, he's telling the truth. Is there something else we're missing here?" Arnold asked.
"Of course I'm telling the truth. Why do you think that I'm Danny Phantom?" Danny asked.
"Because you are. Think about it. Why is the character of Danny Phantom just like you in every way?" Dib asked.
"I wouldn't say he's like me in every way, but I based him off myself. Plenty of other comic writers and artists do that."
"And that extends to including every single person you know, and the town you grew up in?"
"Matt Wagner did it in his Mage series. Why not me? Best to write what you know best."
"And what about the dual memories you keep having that match the events of the comics?"
Dib's latest question is what made Danny stop and think, forced to come to contemplate on a topic he himself barely touched upon.
"How do you know about that?" Danny asked.
"Plenty of others reported on similar effects from reading your comics. I'm guessing you have these memories first, then write the comics based around them?" Dib asked.
Again does Danny go silent, feeling a sense of threat regarding how these strangers could know about this secret fact of himself.
"I... I never told anyone about that. How do you know that?" Danny asked.
"Yeah, Dib, how did you know that? Last stop we made, you said you didn't know anything about the people we were going after. How is it you somehow have more knowledge on Danny here than anyone else?" Arnold added.
"Because this one's made a name for himself here, in this timeline. Rudy Tabootie I found nothing about in my research, and Gerald Johanssen I found on information with the Hillwood Heroes. With Danny Fenton, it's been a bit more complicated. See, it's not just him that has these visions that he uses to make his comic books. There are also thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of people who report the exact same story: They had a memory of a past life, read his comic, and had an instance of deja vu, recollecting the past life in full. It's quite big in the fandom of his comic, and there's been rumors of Danny himself having these same visions. Now, he's just confirmed it for me." Dib explained.
"So what if I do? That doesn't prove anything."
"Doesn't it? You don't really think that all these people can tell the same story and it doesn't mean something?"
"What do you think it means?"
"Time travel."
Danny sat incredulously after Dib's simplistic yet unfounded explanation, until finally managing to respond with a scoff.
"So, ghosts are real, aliens are real, and time travel's real. What next? Santa Claus is real?" Danny joked.
"Time travel is indeed real. I have living proof of it. Not with me now, unfortunately, but I'll be happy to show you if you come along with us." Dib said.
"Yeah, sure. Nice save. Listen, I've heard just about enough of-"
"Danny, listen to me, son. He might be crazy, but he's not wrong. We've come a long way just to talk to you, and there are lives at stake here. What harm is there in listening?" Nigel asked.
The calm demeanor of Nigel Thornberry allowed Danny the patience to continue, which led him to calm down and keep listening.
"Okay, so time travel's real. Allegedly. How does that explain me?" Danny asked.
"There's a theory regarding time travel its effects on consciousness known as the Waid-Morrison Principle. We humans perceive it at a certain framerate, but sometimes it can be slowed down or sped up, depending on what chemistry is in our brains. If this theory is correct, it means that time itself is subject to consciousness, and therefore is malleable under the correct circumstances. In the same way that some people can recall a past life, or a psychic can communicate with other worlds." Dib explained.
"How very scientific."
"You're the son of two of the greatest paranormal scientists in the field, Mr. Fenton. I'm surprised to see you act so dismissively and skeptically."
"They quit years ago."
"What?"
"My parents don't do their ghost-hunting stuff anymore. They haven't ever since... Uh, they haven't done it for years."
"But that doesn't seem right, I remember reading about how they had just began construction on a portal meant to breach into the afterlife. It was all over the paranormal blogosphere."
"The por- Uh, ahem, that... thing was built years ago. Like, back when I was a teenager. You're acting like it was yesterday. I know you're kind of crazy, but you seriously got some issues if you think that long ago was just yesterday."
"I... But, I... Oh..."
Dib sunk his head into his hands in a confused manner, leaving the conversation to be carried by Arnold and Nigel. Both looked to Dib's reaction with just as much confusion as him, and just as much understanding over his condition as Dib himself, with no clear answer to his actions in sight.
Disregarding him for the moment, the two turned their attention back to Danny.
"Alright, let's forget about him. Clearly we're not all on the same page. Why don't you start from the beginning?" Arnold asked.
"Beginning of what? I don't even know what you people want from me." Danny said.
"You got awfully shy when you mentioned that portal. Why?"
When faced directly on the issue with a straight, simple question, Danny stood silent after Arnold's inquiry, nervously trying to defend himself from the question.
"Why do you want to know?" Danny asked.
"Because you're taking an awful lot of lengths to avoid it, and maybe it ties into Dib's crazy ideas about alternate timelines. Call it a hunch." Arnold said.
Letting out a deep sigh, Danny mustered his strength to explain his experience with the portal, clinging to himself out of discomfort.
"I was... messing around down in the basement with some friends once. Back when I was just 14. I didn't believe in my parents' ghost-hunting stuff then. Actually, I still don't really believe it now. But my friends and I, we figured there wasn't any harm in checking it out. The Gh- The por- The... you-know-what... My parents spent a lot of time and money into it, building it all from scratch, but, when they turned it on, it didn't work. They were about ready to give up and finally get real jobs around that time, and started abandoning the whole ghost-hunting thing they had going. Obviously, something big and supposedly advanced like that, a bunch of dumb kids like us, we had to check it out, and I planned on going in. I put on a safety suit to make sure I wouldn't be hurt by anything, just to be on the safe side. They're these HAZMAT suits my parents made, and my dad put his face on them; it's stupid. But, anyway, I decided to take a look inside the Gh- Gho- Eh..." Danny shuddered.
"It's alright, son. Don't be afraid. You're safe and sound here. Just tell us what happened." Nigel assured.
"See, that's the thing. I don't know what happened. I walked inside, my hand was running along the edge of the inside, and... I just felt this... sudden hit... of... like, an entire life's worth of pain all hitting me at once. Not like physical pain... but mental pain... the kind of pain you feel when you lose someone or something important, and I just fell to the floor. Sam ran in, dragged me out, and... It's funny, you'd think it's the last thing anyone would be thinking about at that moment in time, but... I just fell for her, right then and there. I had some feelings for her before, but not like I did at that moment in time. I think she felt it, too, because we kissed right there, and we've been together since. Ever since then, I've also had the visions in my head that I put into the Danny Phantom comics. That's where the whole idea came to me. I never went down to the basement or even looked at the portal ever again."
The story filled the three with much intrigue, the description of the events begging them to investigate further.
"Why don't we have a look at this portal?" Arnold asked.
"What?! Oh, no, no, no, I can't go down there." Danny panicked.
"Why not? If you haven't even looked at it after all these years, it's obviously not going to hurt you, now, is it?"
"I'm taking meds for what happened. I don't want whatever's wrong with me to get worse by going down there."
"Or perhaps it might do you good to face your fears." Nigel added.
Though knowing these three for a short period of time, Danny invested enough trust in them to entertain their request, with Nigel's suggestion gaining his interest.
"Maybe you're right. Alright. I'll show you the Ghost Portal." Danny said.
A short walk through the house leads them to its basement, with Danny leading them into darkness below. Reaching for a light switch on the wall, he flipped it, illuminating the room to bring visibility to the guests and show what laid inside what used to be the Fentons' laboratory.
It served no other state now than as an ordinary basement, filled with cardboard boxes filled with various items of varying limits and timelines of use, ranging from basic Christmas decorations to many Fenton inventions packed away, never touched or to be used or studied perhaps ever again.
"There's not much to the basement these days. My parents used to be down here 24/7 making some weird stuff or doing ghost research, but now it's where we keep all our holiday stuff or Jazz's old textbooks." Danny explained.
But in stark contrast to the dilapidated state of the basement, the Ghost Portal could still be seen standing tall, collecting cobweb after years of neglect.
"Except the portal. There it's been, just like it was yesterday that thing messed me up." Danny said.
"They packaged up all their research, but not the portal?" Dib asked.
"They spent so much time into building it that they couldn't bring themselves to take it down, so I overheard. Besides, it's sort of built into the wall. Not much you can do but leave it be."
Stepping past the several cardboard boxes of storage, the group stood before the Ghost Portal in all its glory that remained. Never has it been given the chance to breach into the unknown as it was intended, but its very design and presence demanded respect and intrigue, which was paid in full by them all.
Danny's reaction is infused with fear, stepping back, only to end up in a compassionate arm of Nigel Thornberry, calming him in a fatherly fashion.
"Easy, now, son. You're perfectly fine." Nigel said.
A nervous gulp preceded Danny's next comment, made to try to maintain his composure.
"So, there it is. Did you find what you wanted yet?" Danny asked.
"Almost. The Ghost Portal seems to be in functioning order. Why is it your parents couldn't activate it?" Dib asked.
"I don't know. Maybe they crossed a couple of wires. Maybe a fuse blew. Maybe they were just crazy and the damn thing was never gonna work anyway."
Looking inside the Ghost Portal for himself, Dib inspected the electronics and design of the portal, seeking out any potential flaws that might exist within. Though unfamiliar with the construction within, he possessed enough understanding of technology to look out for any potential defects or oversights, trying to gain an understanding of the current situation of Danny Fenton.
"Tell me something else. In the comic book, how do you get your powers?" Dib asked.
"You mean, how Danny Phantom gets his powers?" Danny asked.
"Yeah, sure."
"He, uh, he steps inside the Ghost Portal."
"Like this one here?"
"Yeah, like this one. I based it off this."
The information given allowed Dib to have a few new ideas cross his mind, all of which he kept secret and discreet as his contemplations continued. The vast majority of the ideas, however, were swept away as soon as something within the Ghost Portal had caught his eye, making him turn back to face it, and gawking at it with a scoff at the sheer stupidity of the thought process behind it:
There was a switch flipped to the 'OFF' position resting directly inside.
"Tell me something about your parents. Do you think either one of them would be dumb enough to put an 'ON/OFF' switch where it's not supposed to go?" Dib asked.
"Uh, maybe my dad. He's kind of weird like that. Why?" Danny asked.
"A man of his genius, building something like this, and he puts the switch right inside. I guess it tracks. I've met scientists that can make a nuclear bomb, but they can't tell green from red."
"Wait. You said there's a switch right inside the portal?"
"Yep. Right here."
"Heh. Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."
"Care to take a look for yourself?"
"No, I'm quite fine here, thank you very much."
With Danny unwilling to come inside the Ghost Portal, Dib was not so easily able to test his hypothesis, leading him to try a different approach to get him inside.
"Were you really not surprised when I said there's the switch right inside?" Dib asked.
"Not really. Like I said, my dad messes up stuff like that." Danny said.
"Are you sure that's why? Maybe it wasn't because you saw it there before... say, in a past life?"
The question made Danny grow silent in contemplation, unsure of the answer to the question himself, and once again doubting his grasp on reality.
"What difference does it make?" Danny asked.
Stepping out of the Ghost Portal towards Danny, Dib discreetly got close to him, well within arm's length.
"The difference being, if you stood inside this machine after it was activated... would you also become Danny Phantom, like in the comic?" Dib asked.
A realization was shown from the shocked face of Danny Fenton, who, before he could fully react, was grabbed by Dib and dragged into the Ghost Portal. Reacting in complete and sheer terror, Danny began fighting back against Dib, pushing him and hitting his arms to try to free himself.
Falling to the floor, Danny tried to get up, crawling away for but an inch during the attempt, only for Dib to grab his legs and prevent his further escape. Holding Danny by his legs, Dib began pulling him inside the portal, ignoring all signs of resistance he put up, including his failed attempts at kicks and loud screams.
"STOP! NO! DON'T DRAG ME IN THERE!" Danny panicked.
"Just get in, Fenton! It's for the good of the Earth!" Dib yelled.
Shock is what initially prevented Arnold and Nigel from intervening to prevent Dib from tormenting Danny any further. Arnold took to Dib to pull him away from Danny, while Nigel went to Danny himself, with both separating the two. Intent on seeing Danny enter the portal, Dib fought back against Arnold's hold, all to no luck.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Arnold shouted.
"We just need to get him in the portal! He has powers, I'll show you!" Dib yelled.
"Forget it! You're not showing anything else. Give it up now, or I'll break something until you do."
Forced to concede to the threat, Dib ended his struggles, prompting Arnold to release him.
Set into a state of panic attack from being so near the Ghost Portal, Danny Fenton was unable to stop shaking, shutting himself down from the sheer stress that was put upon him. Once again turning to his fatherly instincts, Nigel held Danny in a tight grip, offering what he could to calm the young man down.
"Easy, son. Easy. You're perfectly fine. No one's going to hurt you. You're okay." Nigel shushed.
The process to get Danny calm and rational once again is slow and arduous, but Nigel stays to it nonetheless, doing what he can to ensure his safety and well-being.
Danny does calm down in the tight hold of Nigel Thornberry, but still is he visibly shaken, and to a degree so great that he showed no strength or wellness about himself. Following their altercation, Arnold and Dib stepped forward and looked at the pathetic state Danny was in, seeing a very troubled young man...
...but not seeing anything resembling the character of Danny Phantom.
"Was this supposed to be one of the big heroes you were on the hunt for?" Arnold asked.
Looking back and forth at Arnold and Danny, Dib knows that he has no explanation, but the evidence presented clearly speaks against him.
"Please... Please just... just..." Danny stammered.
"We're already gone. Sorry about this." Arnold said.
Escorting Dib out of the basement, Arnold left Nigel alone with him, who slowly began releasing his grip to allow Danny to hold his own.
"You going to be alright, son?" Nigel asked.
"I'm fine... Please, just go..." Danny whimpered.
"I'm very sorry about all this, son. I really am."
Following after the others, Nigel left the basement as well, leaving Danny completely alone.
Put through a traumatic experience, forced to face a fear that he has held yet never confronted for many years since, instead drowning away the source of his troubles with medications galore, Danny stared into the open maw of the Ghost Portal, where even in its inactive state it managed to bring him fright and terror.
Soon does he begin making his way towards the stairs to leave the Ghost Portal out of his sight, after managing to overcome his initial shock. Once here, Danny could allow himself a moment's peace where he could stop and breathe. In catching his breath, he reached into his pocket and prepared a dosage of his medication, preparing to take it to relieve his anxiety.
But once the pills fell into his hand, however, a second thought crossed his mind before he consumed them.
You should trust yourself more. Those ideas you always have? The images you always see? Maybe there's something to learn in them. Don't just try to drown them out. Listen to yourself sometimes. Sam's words echoed.
Recalling the last message that Sam spoke to him before she departed, the temporary peace that the pills offered him became far less appealing, and what it offered no longer holding the value it did. Without the artificial chemicals blocking the emotions that he detested and feared, the feelings came in a reverse erosion, the same anxieties he has felt before coming back with a vengeance...
...but, even though the pills would more than suffice to berid himself of them, he does not take them.
Why he does not, he is not sure. Any rationalizations that could be made at this moment in time might reason that Sam's encouragement is what leads him not to take them, or perhaps there is some truth in what the visitors that have come for him today have said, but, whatever the case truly is, he knows that it is worth investigating further.
Opening the pharmaceutical bottle once again, Danny slid them back in, sealing the lid closed after.
The three visitors reembarked back on the Comvee, once again failing to take with them another potential defender against the incoming Irken invasion. Disappointment has increased even higher than before with the most recent failure, and the lack of an extra passenger makes the morale of the rest of the group fall in morale.
"Hey, where's the new guy? You didn't get him, either?" Otto asked.
"No. Whoever Dib said this guy is, he's not. He's just some kid." Arnold said.
"You mean the crazy guy was wrong about something? Somehow, I'm not suprised." Reggie scoffed.
"Spare me the sarcasm, Rocket. I know who he is, and, if I had my way, he'd have his powers, and we'd have a very powerful asset on our hands to help us defend the Earth. If it wasn't for discount Steve Irwin here, I would've-" Dib began to say.
In a swift act that little aboard the Comvee expected or could react as it happened, Nigel grabbed Dib by the shoulder and turned him, keeping a grip on him as he spun him. Before speaking to Dib, Nigel looked to him with an intense glare that rarely was shown from the normally warm and playful man, indicating a strong anger that should not be seen.
"I've heard just about enough nonsense out of you, young man. Now, you listen to me. If it was not for Arnold Shortman and the necessity of this little mission, I would not allow you on my Comvee for one more second. You threatened my daughter. That alone, I would already have been done with you. Back there, you harmed a young man who was very clearly not in his right mind, all over a pointless gamble. I will not stand for that. Not now, not ever. If you ever try anything of the slightest like that again, I will make you regret it for the rest of your life. Understand?" Nigel asked.
The grip and intense stare being held indicated that Nigel would not end the confrontation until he was given an answer, which Dib did so in a begrudging manner.
"Alright. Fine." Dib said.
Though flippant and stubborn, the answer still satisfied Nigel to release Dib, making his way through the Comvee to leave him behind.
"And while we're talking, show more respect for Mr. Irwin. I knew him well. He was a kind man, and quite spirited. He was more pleasant company than others I can name." Nigel said.
Once leaving Dib behind, Nigel walked towards his bedroom, soon stopped by Arnold before leaving sight of the others.
"Nicely handled. But I personally would have given him a smack." Arnold said.
"I don't believe in physical confrontation... although, I must admit it was very tempting at that moment in time." Nigel said.
"For the longest time, I didn't, either. I learned that lesson the hard way."
Nigel opened his mouth with the intent to speak, but backed down in frustration, feeling as though his points, repeated, would bear no fruit.
"And I know you're trying to talk me out of it again. Try to get me back to my naive old self. You can keep trying all you want if it makes you feel better." Arnold said.
"I won't go on about that now. I'm not in a very charitable mood following that." Nigel said.
"There was something else that should've put your mood off more. First, he says he has information on us and who we are. Then, he says he doesn't have any. Now, he's saying he does, but all based on his wild conspiracy theories."
"That fact was not lost on me. As much as I don't trust him, I think the one person who should trust him the least is himself. If it wasn't for that spaceship we found back in Ocean Shores, I wouldn't be entertaining this little road trip at all."
"We've got one more stop before we head to this alien of his. We don't have to deal with him for much longer, but, until then, it might be a good idea to keep a tighter watch on him."
"I already have. Old saying goes: 'Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer'. I've dealt with just as many dangerous men as I have dangerous animals. A dangerous animal, you can predict. Usually, it's just to protect themselves or their kin that they lash out and attack. A man who acts dangerously, you've got too many factors to reason in to deal with him. Man is the most unpredictable, wild animal there is."
"Redundant point, but well-said. He tries anything, I'll handle him."
While alliances and conspiracies are made to protect one another, the target of said talks made his way to the front of the Comvee, giving directions to their next stop.
"Last stop before Zim is Royal Woods, Michigan." Dib said.
"Royal Woods? Isn't that the home of that superhero boy... What's his name... Lincoln La-ood?" Marianne asked.
"Lincoln Loud. And he's exactly who we're looking for."
The drive to the next destination begins, driving through the streets of Amity Park to leave the town behind and make their way to the next. Leaving Marianne to do the driving once again, Dib is once again forced to find a seat for himself, still facing ostracization from the others aboard.
Communication with Dib is not something anyone aboard actively seeks, but is sometimes made out of necessity, as Rocket Power soon demonstrate.
"So, that's another one of your heroes for hire that weren't interested. That's 1 out of 5 guys you wanted. What happens if this last one doesn't take it?" Otto asked.
The implications of the question are harrowing to Dib to even think about, making him give a dramatic pause before answering...
"Then god help us all." Dib shuddered.
...but the reaction is nothing that particularly concerns the rest of Rocket Power, who themselves are not fully convinced of the threat as a whole.
"You know, I'm sure there probably is some kind of threat at stake here, but how many times have people said that exact response to a question like that? Hearing that answer just makes it so much less dramatic than it really is." Reggie said.
"It's called an overused cliche. There's a reason nobody says them anymore." Sam said.
"Well, sorry, okay? With the fate of the Earth at stake, I'm not exactly in the mood for originality." Dib said.
"No, of course not. With the trench coat and glasses, you're just like every other internet-brained loser I've ever seen. What's the matter, you leave the katana at home?" Otto asked.
The whole of Rocket Power and a handful of others laughed at the expense of Dib, leaving him to simmer in annoyance.
"Oh, ha-ha. Hilarious." Dib groaned.
"Follow the white rabbit, Neo." Twister joked.
More laughs came out from the Comvee, with Dib once again simmering in anger while shaking his head.
-
Dinnertime is a setting is often considered a healthy part of family life.
To eat together as a family unit, to be sharing subsistence with one another, and be in a vulnerable moment of replenishing nutrients for their bodies, all are a disarming moment in which all can be comfortable and at ease, strengthening bonds with one another and bringing relief and comfort to the day.
It is also a time for each member to share their accounts of the day, instilling trust in each other with everything, even the most minute and seemingly insignificant of details, shared with one another. Parents can talk about work, children can talk about school, and perhaps there is a lesson of life that can be learned in the process.
But tonight, there is a dead silence at the table as the Tabootie family sits together.
Earlier in the day, the call of duty had come for Rudy Tabootie, coming at the behest of the Green Eye, and made in the service of fighting off an incoming alien invasion. Unable to bring himself to violence in any way, shape, or form any longer, having had more than his fill of it throughout his life, Rudy had declined the call.
Looking up to their stepfather as a source of good morals and trustworthiness, and idolizing the Green Eye as one of the world's greatest heroes, Carol and Carlos look to him with disappointment and disgust, feeling many manners of negative emotions about Rudy.
They do not fully understand the reason for his actions, but they do not care. All they need to know is that Rudy has declined to help those in need.
And that is a decision they cannot believe he would make.
Dinner has been made, thanks to the efforts of the whole family, but no one has touched the food even after it has been served. There is discomfort and tension high present at the table, all brought about by the events that occurred earlier in the day regarding the Green Eye, but those feelings have not been resolved.
Until now, none has had the will to speak, and that silence has been broken by Rudy, whose mood was also sour.
"What's the matter with everyone? It's time for dinner. Let's eat." Rudy said.
"The Green Eye needed your help. You said no." Carlos said.
Clearly unhappy with the discussion brought about, inevitable as it was, Rudy still kept his responses on it short.
"That's right, I did." Rudy said.
"Why?" Carol asked.
"Because I've had enough of fighting. I don't want to get involved in fights I have nothing to do with."
"Aliens can come for us. What then?" Carlos asked.
"Worst case scenario, we go to ChalkZone. We'll be safe there. The world can take care of itself."
"Not what the Green Eye would say."
"I'm not the Green Eye."
"You would do the right thing. You're a hero in ChalkZone. You can be a hero here."
"That's enough. I have heard all I want to hear of this topic. I am not going to help the Green Eye or anyone with some cockamanie alien fight. We are going to stay right here, and we are going to keep moving on. That's what we've been doing for the past year, and we're gonna keep doing it until you both grow up and can move out. If you want to get yourselves involved in things like that, go right ahead."
"I hate you." Carol said.
The hurtful words brought a gasp out of Penny, with Carol and Carlos looking at Rudy with disapproving faces. Looking back at his children with a stoic face that attempted to hide his own hurt, Rudy simply dismissed Carol's statement, acting as though it meant nothing.
"That's fine. You can think whatever you want of me. It's not going to get me to go and fight. I've had enough fights in my life, seen enough death and violence, and caused more than enough of it myself. I am not going to delve deeper into becoming a monster after I spent time in therapy trying not to be. We are not going to talk about aliens or the Green Eye, or anything else, and we are going to sit down like a good, big, happy family, and we are going to eat dinner, so stop talking about this shit to me and eat!" Rudy yelled.
Raising his voice at the dinner table, Rudy's angered outburst caused Carlos to squirm uncomfortably, covering his ears and groaning in response to the loud voice.
"Stop moaning!" Rudy shouted.
Unwilling to see her son berated for his dislike of loud voices, Penny held Carlos by her, resting his head in her bosom.
"Don't yell at my son, Rudy. Not wanting to talk about this is one thing, yelling at Carlos is another." Penny protested.
Reading deeper into Penny's response than intended, Rudy raised an eyebrow to her first spoken words.
"Your son? What happened to 'our' son?" Rudy asked.
Understanding the implication accidentally made in her response, Penny softened her reply to revoke the unintended message.
"That's... That's not what I-" Penny tried to say.
"No, no, I get it. I'm not really their father after all, aren't I? I'm just the fill-in for the job. The last guy ditched you because he was a piece of shit. You traded him in for an asshole. I guess it's a step in the right direction. Maybe the next one you'll get'll just be a dick, right?" Rudy ranted.
"Rudy, please, you're not listening to me."
"No, I heard you loud and clear. I'm not welcome in this family anymore. I've never really belonged anywhere, not when I was a kid, not when I was in ChalkZone. Why should I belong here now, in the home that I grew up in, no less? In fact, I'll just go ahead and leave so I won't be a problem here anymore."
Getting up from his chair, Rudy stormed to the staircase and marched up it, with Penny running close behind to follow him, and their children just behind her.
The three managed to catch up to Rudy, finding him in the master bedroom, taking to his wardrobe with a suitcase. Angrily grabbing random selections of clothes, Rudy began packing with the intent of leaving, making good on what he had said at the dinner table.
"Rudy! What are you doing?!" Penny panicked.
Penny ran to him to grab his arm, but Rudy pushed her away, continuing to pack.
"I'm leaving. I'll be out of here so you can all do whatever you want, and not have me burdening you. I'll go and join up with the Green Eye and those other fighters, and you won't have to worry about me anymore." Rudy said.
Carol and Carlos fell into despair at the idea of their beloved stepfather leaving, with the latter beginning to cry.
"Rudy, please don't go. We don't want you to go. We need you. I need you. And you need us." Penny begged.
"No, I don't. I made it just fine on my own in ChalkZone before. I made it without you before, and I can do it again. I'll be fine on my own. I'll go back to being a monster again. I'll go back to being a... being a... a..." Rudy stammered.
Halfheartedly throwing the last item of clothing in his suitcase, Rudy then dropped the bag altogether, falling against the nearest wall and holding himself as he began to cry, covering his face as not to show any tears. With her husband no longer making any attempts to leave, and showing a clear need for comfort and love, Penny knelt down and hugged him, holding him tightly as he held her back.
Showing their support and love for Rudy as well, Carol and Carlos ran to Rudy to join in the hug, welcomed by both of their parents.
"Rudy... Dad... I don't hate you. I'm sorry." Carol cried.
"God, no, I'm sorry. I don't know how I'm supposed to get through this. I know it's not supposed to be easy. But I didn't get an instruction manual for this." Rudy cried.
"Doesn't matter. We're here. We love you, dad." Carlos cried.
"We all love you, Rudy. Especially me. We're here for you, no matter what. Whatever you do, we won't shame you. We want what's best for you. You're part of this family now. You're the dad." Penny cried.
The final words Penny cried are all the assurance that Rudy needs to know his place, and remind him that he is needed and loved. His cries become more joyous when he hears this truth spoken to him, and the embrace that his family gives him helps to melt away the anger he has towards himself.
"I'm a dad... I'm a daddy..." Rudy cried.
"Yes, you are, Rudy. You belong here. You love us. And we love you." Penny cried.
Continuing to hold onto his family, Rudy makes them his rock, crying with them as they all shared the burden of his troubles together, working as a family to see the troubles through. The warmth and softness that his wife and children provided drowned out his sorrows only enough to make the sadness tolerable once again, and it makes his crying lighten.
What cries do continue are cries much needed, and help to heal the whole family.
Chapter 17: Chapter 15: Invaders From Irk, Part 8
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 15: INVADERS FROM IRK, PART 8
One last stop, one last hope for an ally against the incoming Irken invasion.
Though many have their reservations regarding the mission they have been called upon, skeptically questioning every level of it, there is at least a minimal amount of concern regarding the success of their mission, and some knowledge that they must be successful on this final recruitment.
Like anyone with too much time in between a moment of truth and the present, the reaction of those in the Comvee are to carry on as though nothing is happening, riding out the calm before the storm. Most of it is spent with friends and family interacting with each other, strengthening the bonds and love between each other.
The exceptions to this rule are Arnold Shortman, who still continues to stay solitary and silent, and Dib, who is solitary and silent as well, but not by his own choice. In between his erratic and bizarre behavior, and his misdeeds against those he claims to be his allies, he has found no friends on his quest.
He has, however, captured the attention from those open-minded, who wish to learn more from his conspiratory beliefs. Such is the case with Otto and Twister, who listened to a long explanation regarding Danny Fenton and the reason behind their attempt to recruit him, learning of his past life as Danny Phantom.
"So, like, we're, like, the second versions of ourselves? That we're in an alternate reality?" Twister asked.
"It's more complex than that. If anything, every reality is an alternate reality, and they just seem like alternate realities to us." Dib explained.
"But what about all the times the timeline got messed up because of time travel so far? I counted something like 4." Otto said.
"If we're going by the original timeline with Dark Danny in The Ultimate Enemy issue, that's roughly correct. His timeline was the first, then the timeline where Danny didn't cheat on his test, then whatever event sent us to Zim taking over, Danny didn't write what happened on that yet, and, finally, there's this one, where the machine was sent back to warn me."
"And you figured out that whole 'past life' stuff all by yourself?"
"It's amazing how many conspiracy theories you'll find are actually true when you dig just a bit deeper into them."
"Really? Tell us some more, man." Twister implored.
"I thought you guys would never ask. Just sit back and let me fill your minds with the absolute truth."
The drive from Illinois to Michigan takes 6 hours, at the least, but the drive must take stops for the purpose of refueling or acquiring food. What Twister asks of Dib, one would not expect to take more than an hour's conversation worth of time, perhaps two hours at the most with an impassioned back-and-forth...
...but, with someone as unstable-minded as Dib, his regurgitation of conspiracy theories lasts the entirety of the trip.
"First of all, did you know that Australia was actually a testing ground for white supremacy? See, with all of England's prison population being sent to an island of dark-skinned natives, they were actually making use of the island to further white breeding and takeover of various nations, hence why most of Australia is white, same with South Africa. Of course, you have the white supremacists trying to cover their own tracks with the Great Replacement Theory, trying to accuse the other side of what they're actually doing..."
"School shootings? False flags to take your guns? No, it's a layer deeper than that. See, they make you think you're gonna have your guns taken away from you, and they make gun sales spike up as a result, creating a massive windfall for gun manufacturers. And how do they get the sad kids to grow up into school shooters for this practice? They poison baby food with a certain chemical known as MSG-X that reacts to certain genes in males, making them less attractive to women and weakening their will to be more submissive, while simultaneously nurturing aggressive tendencies to create a Molotov cocktail of a human being..."
"Bigfoot's in on it, you know. You'd think with all these Bigfoot hunters, they'd eventually have found him by now, right? So, why didn't they? Because he's in on it. He's an employee of our department of tourism. Bigfoot's the last member of his species, all who live for hundreds of years, and he's looking to cash in before he goes extinct. He can avoid getting caught just by shaving, he'll just look like a big, tall guy after that. I know because he used our band saw once. And the hair he shaves? It goes for thousands on eBay. His pubes especially, your sexual vitality increase significantly if you burn them and inhale the fumes..."
"Dr. Phil and Steve Harvey are gay lovers who run a pedophilia ring with Oprah Winfrey. The guests they have on their shows? They're actually the customers. How is it you never actually meet these people with crazy lives in real life? That's just the cover story. The truth is that they're the elite, hiding in plain sight to make a spectacle and keep your eyes off the real story. Reports are that Dr. Phil and Steve Harvey had a three-way with a 14-year old boy on Elvis' toilet..."
"The Freemasons are a distraction meant to keep people's eyes off of the real face behind the curtain. I mean, the trick's in the name itself. Freemasons? They have free in the name, because they're there to give you the illusion that you're actually free. The reality is, Adolf Hitler and his Thule Society created them as a distraction after he escaped justice and hid in America, influencing politics, culture, and the media from behind the scenes. That's right, Adolf Hitler's still alive, but he's been mostly wheelchair-bound and he's cared for by his 5 sons..."
"Dinosaurs aren't actually real. The trick is, they're all superweapons that were created in the 1910s by Doctor Moreau. Yes, you heard me right. Victor Frankenstein was a real person. The H.G. Wells novel? A fictionalization of events after he experimented on humans. He was hired by the kaiser to make weapons to defeat America and the rest of Europe, and he created super-weapons out of lizard DNA, but the experiment went wrong, and they went all over the globe. Now, how did they get them all covered up with the 'science' of paleontology? Oh, boy, that's a whole 'nother can of worms..."
After hours of driving, the Comvee finally made its arrival to its destination of 1216 Franklin Avenue, with the mobile home coming to a slow and loud stop as its brakes settled. The sound of the brakes resembles that of a tired sigh from a man carrying too much on his back after a long journey, not too dissimilar from what the Comvee has been tasked with...
...but it also resembled the fatigue and annoyance of the passengers of the Comvee, who all left the vehicle with severe headaches brought about from Dib's rambling conspiracy theories. One by one they all made the effort to exit the Comvee, all grasping their heads in pain, desperate to receive fresh air and sunlight to recover.
"Oh, blimey, I haven't heard that much complete nonsense since Margaret Thatcher got elected." Nigel groaned.
"I haven't heard that much complete nonsense since Reagan got elected." Marianne groaned.
"If it wasn't for my healing factor, I'd swear I'd have lost brain cells." Arnold groaned.
"And people tell us our lyrics don't make any sense." Shane groaned.
"Lemmings are more introspective than that." Eliza groaned.
"I wish Nigel and Marianne didn't keep us from smoking weed during the drive. We definitely could've used it then." Tucker groaned.
"Forget weed, that needs shrooms to get over it." Donnie groaned.
"Remind me to read a computer 'zine to sooth the pain after this." Sam groaned.
"As long as you remind me to pick up a 'zine on sports." Reggie groaned.
"That was a lot less fun than I thought it was gonna be." Otto groaned.
The reaction to the verbal diarrhea that Dib let out is angry and pained, but not unanimous. Having listened enthusiastically all the way through the trip, Twister, a man so open-minded that one would swear his mind had fallen out of his head, ate up every word spoken by Dib, excitedly hanging on for more.
"...and then the governments converge into one socialist entity that eradicates free will and information." Dib finished.
"Whoa, dude. I had no idea all this stuff was going on right under our noses. Oh, oh! Wait! I didn't get to the big one: Who killed J.F.K.?" Twister asked.
"Lee Harvey Oswald."
The question asked and pondered for decades is given an anticlimactic answer that brings Twister no satisfaction, responding with confused disappointment.
"Wait... really? So that Oliver Stone movie was all bogus?" Twister asked.
"Yep." Dib said.
"Damn. I thought it'd be more interesting than that. Well, why did he kill J.F.K.?"
"Because J.F.K. slept with Oswald's wife."
Hearing the answer explained more fully, Twister stood in contemplation, thinking over the new context given with a delayed satisfaction.
"Huh. That makes total sense, actually." Twister thought aloud.
The passengers moved to the front door of the Loud House, walking up the driveway to reach it. As they walked through the driveway, the group, led by Arnold, Nigel, and Dib, looked upon a complete mess all about the yard, with toys and personal belongings scattered about, forcing many to watch their path.
"Lincoln Loud's supposed to have a bunch of sisters, right?" Arnold asked.
"10." Dib answered.
"10? Jesus, what are these guys, Mexicans?" Twister asked.
"Uh, you do know I'm Mexican, right?"
"Really? That's cool, so am I."
"...Then why were you making fun of Mexicans?"
"Well, you gotta learn to laugh at yourself."
"...Right."
The three leaders made their way to the front door, with Nigel pressing the doorbell. After pressing the doorbell, however, no sound could be heard from the inside of the house, making it possible that no doorbell had rang at all. Pressing the button once and twice more, still no result could be found, nor any response being made.
"Huh. Looks like their doorbell's broken." Nigel spectated.
"Well, can you hurry up and knock instead or something? I gotta take a leak." Otto said.
"Otto, why didn't you go in the Comvee?" Arnold scorned.
"The toilet was broken. Don't ask me who broke it, wasn't me."
Arnold groaned as he shook his head, knocking on the door in a hearty, fervent manner to gain the attention of the occupants of the house. Again could no response be heard, even with knocks made as loudly as Arnold made them, making no contact with Lincoln Loud nor getting Otto any closer to a toilet.
Looking about to find an alternative means of entering, Dib walked to a window on the patio, preparing to open it.
"Dib, what are you doing, man? Breaking and entering a home?" Nigel scowled.
"It's in the interest of saving the Earth. Besides, it's not locked." Dib said.
Pulling the window up, not deterred from any locks as he noted, Dib peered through the window, calling in the house to gain the attention of someone inside.
"Hello? We're looking for Lincoln Loud! We'd like a few minutes to talk to-" Dib began to call.
The window then slid down the rails and landed on Dib's back, nearly crushing his shoulderblades and making him land trapped in the window.
"Ow! Shit!" Dib groaned.
"You alright, bro?" Twister asked.
"No, I'm not alright, you dumbass! Somebody get me out of this-!"
Then, Dib's anger is cut short as an individual inside the house finally could be seen, but what he sees is nothing that he wishes he did.
The first occupant of the house that he saw was that of Lucy Loud, the 11-year old sister obsessed with all things gothic and the color black, presenting herself in her typical wear of a black dress. What accompanied her dress was a pair of kitchen knives in her hands, which she held with her arms held out in an intimidating manner.
"Ha-ha-ha... I caught you... I caught you... The big, fat bug right in my spider web..." Lucy laughed.
Also in her hands, just somewhat visible until she came closer, was a net made out of string, which she placed upon Dib's head. The action comes as one that brought him confusion to the immense fear he began to feel, becoming even more fearful by the second as Lucy raised the knives up.
"And, now, the spider gets to give the bug a big sting." Lucy giggled.
"Oh, god... Oh, god, oh, god! HELP ME! SOMEONE HELP ME! GET ME OUT OF HERE!" Dib screamed.
"Lucy! Are you trying to kill the mailman again?" A voice called.
Hearing the voice of her father come from across the house, Lucy hid her knives behind her back, responding meekly to the call.
"No, dad. It's just some big-headed weirdo." Lucy said.
"Well, let the big-headed weirdo in and put the knives back in the kitchen, honey. We don't kill visitors." Lynn Sr. called.
Looking down on the frightened face of Dib Membrane, Lucy looked upon him with a blank stare that carried her typical unsettling mood with it.
"You're getting off light." Lucy said.
Grabbing the bottom of the window, Lucy pulled it up, allowing Dib to escape. He did so with a great speed and fright, running back into the arms of the rest of the group.
Backing against Arnold and Otto, he looked back on the two to see them smugly smiling at the humiliated Dib.
"Shut up." Dib groaned.
The group entered the house at last as Lucy opened the door for them, finding the matriarch and patriarch of the house, Lynn Sr. and Rita, entering the foyer with the remaining 9 of their children all coming to investigate the manner, treating every event in the house as though it were a show.
"Sorry about that, folks. What can we do for you?" Lynn Sr. asked.
Before any explanations could be given, Lincoln stepped forward with eyes wide and full of amazement, approaching one particular member of the group of guests and singling out the one who commanded the most attention from him. Looking in the eyes of the football-headed man with green eyes, Lincoln's mouth widened into a smile, identifying him as...
"The Green Eye. You're the Green Eye, aren't you?" Lincoln asked.
Arnold's reaction is not as enthusiastic or gleeful as Lincoln's, who rolled his eyes at the immediate recognition he faced.
"Used to be." Arnold sighed.
"Cool! Holy, crap, this is cool! The Green Eye's here! The Green Eye actually came to see me!" Lincoln cheered.
Arnold shook his head and sighed as Lincoln's excitement, taking no pleasure in being recognized as his former self.
As Lincoln moved on to the rest of the group, his excitement increased as he met with and recognized each member, his enthusiasm increasing with every face that he recognized, and, in turn, his mouth moving as quickly as his mind was at that moment in time.
"Oh, wow! You're Otto Rocket and Rocket Power! That whole thing you did stopping Ocean Shores from being bought by Alex Gravity? Super-awesome! Ronnie Anne and Lynn are big fans of you guys, too, we talk about you a lot, it's super-cool that you guys are skaters and superheroes, you don't see that real often. Oh, by the way, I also fought Twister's brother Lars a couple of times, actually three times, but I beat him every single time! I even fought this alternate-reality version of him that turned up as well, that one was kind of my sister Lisa's fault, but we took care of him, too. Oh, and I recognize the Comvee outside, that's Nigel Thornberry and the Thornberry family, right? Well, I'm more of an ARGGH! fan, but your nature show's pretty cool, too, and..." Lincoln ranted.
As the long, delirious, fanboyish ranting of Lincoln Loud extended to the rest of the group, the vast majority of eyes went darting to one another in disbelief and stupor, unable to compensate with the rate in which the white-haired boy spoke his praises to them, and how much he had to say.
Acting as the harder side of the Thornberry parents, Marianne intervened to silence Lincoln, accomplishing the feat by clearing her throat loudly.
"Pardon me, um, Lincoln, was it? The enthusiasm is appreciated, but we're on a bit of a schedule. Would you like us to actually tell you why we're here?" Marianne asked.
"Oh, yeah, sorry, of course." Lincoln stammered.
"Yes, that's a question we'd like to hear ourselves, ma'am." Rita added.
"Well, as your son no doubt has guessed, Mr. and Mrs. Loud, we're here for Ace Savvy. And we've got a few things to ask of him." Dib said.
"Yeah, starting with: 'Where's your bathroom'?" Otto asked.
-
Making his way to the restroom, Otto let out a long stream of urine in the toilet, groaning as he relieved his bladder from the immense stress it was put under during the duration of their drive. Having felt an enormous pressure on his urinary system lifted so quickly, Otto put a hand against the wall to keep his balance, sighing in a content groan as his liquid waste left his body.
The urination, made at a forceful pace and rate, caused the water in the toilet bowl to splash loudly, the sound of the liquid displacement being so violent that it sounded more akin to water boiling rather than one liquid pouring into another. Likewise, the sounds of relief that Otto made sounded less associated with typical bathroom habits, and more akin to reaching the highest pleasures in life.
"Ngh... Ah... Ooh, shit... Ooh... Ungh... Ah..." Otto groaned.
-
Yet another recap of recent events has been shared, this time between the Loud parents and Lincoln. As the rest of the Comvee's passengers and Loud family spend time elsewhere in the Loud House, Arnold, Nigel, and Dib are able to share the important information uninterrupted.
The news is as harrowing to anyone else who is willing to believe it, and they are only a few they have encountered thus far who do believe.
"Oh... Um... That's... Uh... Wow." Rita stammered.
"Let me guess: You believe it all, because you've seen weird stuff for yourself, right?" Arnold asked.
"Well, of course, we've got a little science whiz-kid as our second-to-last daughter. Fixed up the microwave at the tender age of 2 and a half!" Lynn Sr. cheered.
"She turned it into a fission reactor, honey." Rita corrected.
"She went above and beyond what I could've."
"Guys, can you please not do this in front of the Green Eye? The man's the most popular superhero in the world, be a little more tactful, please." Lincoln said.
Once again does Arnold find discomfort with his renounced title, sighing as Lincoln referred to him as such.
"Er... You know, you can just call me Arnold, kid." Arnold said.
"Oh, right, because we're not in costume, right. Okay, Arnold, wink-wink, nod-nod. But, seriously, I'm a huge, huge fan. I mean, I wasn't at first, but that's mainly because I was sort of jealous of you, trying to be a superhero myself, and all. But now that's all behind me, and I can appreciate it. I saw the Fall of Hillwood happen on the news like a lot of people, and, boy, was it a scary time, but you made it awesome, the stuff you did." Lincoln swooned.
"'Awesome'? Kid, I watched almost every single person I know die, including my own parents, all to gangs of cannibals, Nazis, and cultists. If you were there, dealing with what I had to, you wouldn't be calling that 'awesome'. You'd be calling it a goddamn nightmare."
Arnold's angered response and the disturbing content of his rant made the mood sour, with Lincoln's excitement finally being dwindled.
"Well... I mean, seeing you try to stop it was the awesome part. Obviously, the cannibals, Nazis, and cultists were bad." Lincoln apologized.
Then, Lucy Loud popped up behind the couch to interject, giving a scare from the Loud family members sitting on it.
"Cannibals, Nazis, and cultists? Sounds pretty awesome to me. Well, the science-y occult kind of Nazis, anyway. I don't support white nationalism. Just being pale from lack of sun." Lucy added.
"Lucy, you're not helping." Lincoln bemoaned.
-
Finally disposing the last of his liquid waste, Otto flushed the toilet, moving to the sink to wash his hands. Outside the doorway to the restroom was Twister, waiting on him to leave the restroom, standing by in annoyance and impatience. The desire for both of them to leave the restroom behind and move on to their mission is at the forefront of their minds, having little patience for distractions...
...but, upon laying eyes on a small brown brick on the bathroom sink counter, Otto's cannabis-loving brain prompted the attention of another mission.
"Yo, Twist, come in here!" Otto called.
"Hell, no, dude, I'm not looking at your dick." Twister rejected.
"No, dude, these guys are carrying."
"Carrying? Carrying what?"
Twister entered the bathroom in curiosity, meeting with Otto and following his eyes to look at the counter, his eyes locking onto the same small brown brick that caught his attention. Stoners to the core, both knelt down to observe the brick closer, admiring it for what they believed it to be.
"Is that what I think it is, dude?" Twister asked.
"Hell, yeah. Hash. Pure, unadulterated, hash." Otto admired.
"Oh, dude..."
"Yeah. Let's smoke this shit."
"Hey, wait, dude, that's not ours. We can't just smoke it without their permission."
"We'll pay them back. Twist, believe me, I know good hash when I see it, and you gotta smoke it ASAP when you do, because it just goes bad over time. Besides, we're about to go off and fight some aliens. When are we gonna get another chance to get high like this again?"
"Uh... Yeah, I guess you're right."
"Damn right. C'mon, let's go find an empty room to smoke it in."
"Why not here?"
"Someone else might need the bathroom, we don't wanna stick it up anymore than the next guy might."
"This house is filled with girls."
"Girls stink it up worse. You ever smell the tampons they leave in the trash can? That's one of the few things I don't miss about dating like I used to."
"Oh, right."
Departing from the bathroom, their search for a room to smoke in began.
-
Back downstairs, with the Loud parents, Lincoln Loud, and those who wish to recruit him...
"This is all just a bit much to take in. I mean, of course it is, but... you're asking my son to partake in... what exactly? Fighting an alien invasion?" Rita asked.
"That's about it." Dib said.
"Sounds good to me, I'm in!" Lincoln cheered.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, son. I don't think you realize what exactly you're getting into here. This is dangerous, what we're all talking about here." Lynn Sr. protested.
"So? I did dangerous back when I was Ace Savvy, fighting supervillains. And I beat 'em all!"
"You also got into bucketloads of trouble, all of which started when you did things that you shouldn't have been doing." Rita added.
"But I got bucketloads of money as a result of it! Have we forgotten that? It's helped us out a lot with the house recently!"
"Have we also forgotten that you said you were gonna give up being Ace Savvy? You said yourself that maybe the world doesn't need heroes right this second, and other people can take care of problems." Lynn Sr. said.
The point made Lincoln pause to groan, hating that his own words came back to haunt him.
"Well, that was because what I did brought more supervillains. I said that maybe the world needs Ace Savvy some other time, but not then. But this is the now when the world needs heroes again. Who else is gonna deal with this?" Lincoln asked.
"The Green Eye and his group by themselves? At worst, the military?" Rita asked.
-
Back upstairs...
On the hunt for a place to smoke their newly-acquired hashish, Otto and Twister searched the various rooms for a quiet place to indulge in a cannabis high. In a stranger's house, the prospect of using other rooms without permission might seem taboo, much less using items of their belonging also without permission...
...but that does not hinder Otto or Twister. What does hinder them is what in chaos lay behind each door.
Otto opened one to find a baseball bat fall and clank him on the head, only to have a vampire bat fly over and screech as it threatened to bite him.
"You find a good room, Otto?" Twister asked.
"Nope. Just got attacked by one bat, then another. You find one?" Otto asked.
Twister opened the nearest door to find a crown-wearing alligator snarling and snapping its lipstick-glistened jaws at him, forcing him to slam the door.
"Uh, nope. But I think this place should have animal control called." Twister shuddered.
The next room Otto opened the door to gave him another surprise, but this one was far less unpleasant to him.
In the room belonging to Luna and Luan Loud, the former member of the room was seen sitting on a chair with her significant other, Sam Sharp, sitting on her and embracing her passionately. The two were engaged in a heavy amount of foreplay, feeling up one another as they kissed.
The sapphic sight is one that greatly excited Otto, and he stood by with a voyeuristic eye...
"Otto, man, did you find-?" Twister began to ask.
...and, upon meeting with Otto, Twister looked in to see the same sight, but reacted with far less favor that his best friend did.
"Otto, what are you doing, man? We shouldn't be watching this!" Twister whispered.
"Relax, Twist. I'm just enjoying the show." Otto whispered.
"Those girls are probably sisters! This is so wrong!"
"C'mon, Twister, this is Michigan, not Mississippi."
"They're probably underage!"
"The age of consent's 16 here. Besides, I lost it way earlier than that."
"They're gonna see us watching them!"
As predicted by Twister, Luna is the first to spot them out of the corner of her eye, breaking off her kiss with Sam and looking at them with scorn, and Sam doing the same as her eyes looked to where her significant other's did. While Twister appeared extremely embarrassed and hid his face, Otto played himself off as cool, standing by with a relaxed stance.
"Oh, I'm sorry, ladies. Did I interrupt anything important?" Otto asked.
"Uh, yeah, brah. This ain't a free show." Luna growled.
"What's the price of admission?"
"Show's sold out, it's an intimate one for two. Now piss off, you perverts." Sam Sharp growled.
"Uh, sorry, girls, we were just-" Twister began to say.
Before able to flee, Otto grabbed Twister and held him back, keeping his casual approach to the hostile reactions of Luna and Sam.
"Oh, sorry about all this girls, really..." Otto began to say.
Then, he pulled a bag of marijuana out of his pocket, displaying it to the lovers.
"...we'll just take our weed and go somewhere else, then." Otto finished.
Having displayed the marijuana in full, Otto began walking away with Twister, only for Luna and Sam, sharing a shocked, agreeing look to each other, to call for their return.
"No, no, no, no, no! Wait! It's not that intimate!" Sam Sharp called.
"Yeah, c'mon, sweet child o' mine! We were just joking!" Luna called.
Having achieved his goal of staying in the company of Luna and Sam, Otto returned back to their room, keeping Twister by him as he walked back.
"Works every time." Otto snickered.
-
Back downstairs...
"Mom, please! Can't you understand that this is the moment I've been waiting for? The big return of Ace Savvy! Alongside some of the greatest heroes who ever lived! It's what I've wanted my whole life!" Lincoln protested.
"Last time, it was being a hero in general you wanted, and you didn't want it anymore after you got it. Are you really even sure what you want, Lincoln? Because it sounds to me like you're still hanging onto dreams you had once." Rita said.
"What's wrong with hanging onto dreams? You wanted to be an author while working at the dentist's office, and you held onto the dream until you made it! That's an example of holding onto a dream, isn't it?"
"That's different, Lincoln. I just wanted to write books. These people are asking you to go to war."
"Lincoln, maybe you're not really understanding where we're coming from. You made it the last time around, but that's not something you just walk away from just once. You got lucky. You might not get lucky again." Lynn Sr. argued.
"Ace Savvy makes his own luck."
"Lincoln, will you please just-" Rita began to say.
Seeing that no middle ground was found between Lincoln and his parents, Nigel cleared his throat loudly, interrupting and gaining their attention.
"Mr. and Mrs. Loud, if I may, you're not the only ones who have a lot of love and concern for your children. I'm a father of 3 myself. 5 if you count my son-in-law and nephew. But I can also attest to how resilient children can be. My second-youngest, Eliza, she would often run off on her own during shoots of our show, alongside Darwin. That's a chimpanzee we picked up and took in. She's got a power of her own, you see: She can talk to animals. She'd go off and talk with and tussle with some of the most dangerous animals on the planet, quite literally, yet she'd always come out on top. Had I known half of what she was going through, I would've locked the girl up myself. Actually, I tried that, too, tried putting her in a boarding school. She managed to break herself out and took a plane all the way to Africa, just so she could save a cheetah cub from poachers. Wouldn't you know it, the girl not only saved the cub, but she stopped a massive plan to slaughter an entire pack of elephants at the same time. We often think of children like they're vulnerable and needy, and, often times, they are, but no more than us grown-ups. They've also got a will to fight and beliefs, just like us grown-ups. Moreso than most others I can name, in fact. I may not know Lincoln like you do, but I can tell from what I know of his feats already that he's no pushover, and he can hold his own. And he does believe in doing good, and he's wanted a moment like this. What say you confide in him, and let him help us save the world?" Nigel asked.
The speech comes from the heart and is soft-spoken, with Lynn Sr. and Rita blankly staring at him in response.
"I say you're a terrible father." Rita answered.
The reaction is as unwelcomed as it is unexpected, making Nigel Thornberry react in anger towards the dismissal.
"What-? Good god, woman, how dare you?! I'll have you know I personally dug my own daughter out of a blizzard, and flew her over the Australian outback, while combating a wedge-tailed eagle, all to get her to a hospital for her appendicitis! You yanks can say what you want about anything, but not my family, or how much I love them!" Nigel yelled.
Playing the role of protector in reverse from Nigel, Arnold stood up to calm him down, urging him not to act out his anger.
"Calm down. Let's not fight each other here. We came because we need help fighting another enemy. Keep the focus where it matters." Arnold said.
The one moment of peacemaking Arnold showed is enough to impress Nigel and bring him out of his anger, sitting back on the couch.
"Yes, of course." Nigel said.
"I'm sorry. That was out of line." Rita apologized.
"Apology accepted, ma'am."
"Listen. I get it. You love your son, and you'll do anything to protect him. Nobody..." Arnold began to say.
Remembering his own parents' demise, Arnold let out a sigh, holding back his own negative emotions on the matter.
"Nobody understands that better than me. Believe me. But if this is all true, than what we're dealing with here means that your son's in danger, whether you like it or not. This way, he'll at least be on the front lines, and we'll have a chance to stop it before it becomes a bigger problem, and leads to other kids dying. I learned from experience the consequences of not dealing with this threat right away." Arnold said.
"Well, I suppose, when you put it that way-" Lynn Sr. began to say.
"Wait a minute. What do you mean, 'if this is all true'?" Rita asked.
"I'm not fully convinced of everything I was sold on this mission. But I'm here anyway to make sure." Arnold explained.
"But you don't even know if what you're asking our son to do is an actual threat or not?"
"No. But there is enough of one that I came along anyway."
"Oh, I don't believe this. You come all this way to try to talk to our son into fighting some war, and you don't even believe it's real?"
Letting out an annoyed sigh, Arnold composed himself as not to lose his patience, rephrasing his words to the Loud parents to sway them.
"Listen. Forget about all this alien shit for a minute. You know the man who caused the Fall of Hillwood and its destruction?" Arnold asked.
"Thaddeus Gammelthorpe. The Freak." Lincoln answered.
"Yeah, what he said." Lynn Sr. said.
"Right. He's the reason that this future shit allegedly happens in the first place. Do I believe it? Not really. But I fought that monster for two months, and I had nothing to show for it but my home city destroyed, and almost everyone I know dead. It... It broke me, goddammit. You think I went back to the jungle because it was cheap? If there's any chance that it all happens again, I need to make sure it stops. That's why all of us are teaming up. To make sure the best and biggest hitters ensure this happens, and, so far, we've got the best." Arnold explained.
-
Back upstairs...
The shared room of Luna and Luan was filled with burned marijuana, replacing much of the air with smoke carrying the herb and all its effects. The effects made its way to the brains of the room's occupants, filling what remained of the air with bouts and bouts of heavy laughter.
What began as an unfriendly act of voyeurism turned to a friendly bonding session made over a weed used to attain higher consciousness. The four known as Otto Rocket, Twister Rodriguez, Luna Loud, and Sam Sharp find more than this together, losing their collective grips on sanity in exchange for hysteria.
"Oh, man, this is some of the best stuff I've ever had, brah." Luna laughed.
"That's an Otto Rocket special, girl, fresh from Ocean Shores. Homegrown, all natural, organic, no additives, just the good stuff." Otto laughed.
"How'd you learn to grow it so good, man?" Sam Sharp asked.
"We were unemployed for over 10 years, we had to fill the time somehow." Twister laughed.
A shared burst of laughter came from the group as one, reacting even more extremely to a small joke.
"Man, you guys were total losers, huh?" Luna joked.
"Oh, yeah, we totally were. But now we got jobs selling skateboards and surfboards. It's totally rad. But we also got better weed-growing tips from our Uncle Tito. That big guy... Whoa, man, can he smoke!" Twister joked.
Another over-the-top fit of laughter ensued, with the four acting even more hysterical.
"Oh, man, you're the funniest gay dude I've ever ran into. Most of them have sticks up their asses." Luna laughed.
"You'd think having sticks up there would make them lighten up more, wouldn't you?" Sam Sharp added.
The group heartily gut-laughed once more, but the final notes left in Luna's comment stuck in Twister's mind enough to question it.
"Hey, hey, Luna, why'd you call me a gay dude?" Twister asked.
"Oh, man, I am so stoned right now." Luna laughed.
"Girl, we're all stoned!" Sam Sharp laughed.
Yet another group laugh occurred, but still Twister did not relent on his burning question.
"Hey, Luna, why'd you call me a gay dude?" Twister asked.
"Because you are, man!" Luna laughed.
More gut-laughs ensued, even from Twister, with the group too high to find the conversation too intimate or crass.
"Soon as you walked in the door, my gaydar started going: 'Whoop-whoop-whoop! Fag alert! Fag alert!'" Luna laughed.
Once more did the group gut-laugh, with even Twister laughing at the comments outing him.
"Yeah, man, I could sense it, too. Soon as I saw you, I thought: 'Oh, yeah, this dude loves the cock! He's thinking about...'" Sam Sharp began to say.
Sam Sharp finished her sentence with a tongue-in-cheek motion, holding a hand up to her face, gaining yet more hard laughs from the group.
"Hey, c'mon, what are you guys talking about? I'm not gay." Twister laughed.
"Yeah, right, brah. Closet case much?" Luna asked.
"No, really, I'm not gay. Really."
"Oh, yeah? Maybe we should prove it." Sam Sharp said.
"How are you gonna prove that I'm not gay?"
Going up to Luna and whispering in her ear, Sam Sharp made a suggestion that made Luna giggle mischievously, liking the suggestion made to her.
"Alright, we got something. You don't have to do anything. You just sit back and enjoy the show." Luna said.
Walking up to her stereo system, Luna took out a CD and inserted it into the tray, pressing 'PLAY' to start the disc. She did not turn back to the others or return to her seat upon starting the CD, instead waiting for the song to start, patiently standing by as the song began to load.
[Soundtrack Cue: Black Sabbath - Sweet Leaf]
Once the song began to play, Luna began swaying her hips back and forth, displaying her buttocks to the others in an erotic fashion. Letting the music fuel her movements, made even more intense with the marijuana enhancing the effect of the music, and restraining herself from headbanging.
Turning herself around, her eyes went to Sam Sharp as her body continued its movements. Showing off her body with more sways as she moved her hands up and down herself, Sam Sharp watched with eyes widened and hungry for more, instinctively spreading her legs as she watched.
Sam Sharp is obviously and clearly aroused by what she sees, but Twister has little to no reaction aside from confusion, who watched with a curiosity bereft of sexuality. He knows that this is a sight that should excite him, he knows that his brain should register this as a chance for reproduction...
...but neither his brain nor body react as such.
Walking up to Sam Sharp in a sultry manner with long strides in her steps, continuing to let her hands run across herself, Luna made her way up to Sam's chair, putting her foot down on the chair and positioning it mere millimeters away from her crotch, making use of the space her spread legs made.
The step made Sam Sharp perk up in surprise and arousal, looking back at Luna with a bitten lip. Letting her foot back down, Luna put her hands on the armrests of the chair, slouching over Sam Sharp and letting her head hang down. Swaying her head back and forth, her hair whipped about, stopping only to look back at her girlfriend.
Turning herself around, Luna seated herself on top of Sam Sharp's lap, pressing her buttocks up against it. Continuing to let the music guide her movements, she began providing her with a lapdance, grinding herself up against Sam's body. Feeling the warm body of her significant other grind against her, Sam Sharp moved herself closer to Luna, letting her grind closer onto her.
Yet still does Twister find nothing interesting or arousing in the show, but, looking over to Otto, he found that he also enjoyed the show as well as Sam Sharp did. Seeing his best friend watch the show with great interest, his fingers digging into the armrests of his chair, Twister knows that Otto feels what he himself does not...
...but what he does feel, to his own surprise, is a bout of jealousy. What began as passing curiosity now became anger, looking away in frustration from Otto and with less positive feelings towards the lapdance, and less more so with every second that the show continued.
-
Back downstairs...
The discussion between the Loud parents and those who seek out Lincoln are unaware of the altercation happening upstairs, but the music blaring from the second story of the house made its way to them. Though not loud enough to drown out speech and thoughts, it was nonetheless a hindrance to discussions, and judged that it must be removed.
"Where's that music coming from?" Dib asked.
"Oh, that'd be Luna. She loves music, she's our resident rockstar." Lynn Sr. said.
"How cute. Can you get her to turn it off?" Arnold asked.
"Yes, that's not particularly helping right now. Honey?" Rita asked.
"Ok, I'll be right back." Lynn Sr. said.
Leisurely did Lynn Sr. get up from his chair, making his way upstairs just as slowly to see to the music.
-
Back upstairs...
Still did Luna continue to grind on Sam Sharp, taking her girlfriend's hands and putting them on her own hips. Feeling her body from two different ends of her tactile senses, Sam Sharp's heart rate and breathing increased as she felt the stimulation, becoming too excited for her own good.
The show is enjoyed by those attracted to women, with their sexual responses flaring up in full, but Twister has no such reaction as he watched. Instead, the show, long and drawn-out as it was, made him start to feel uncomfortable, and wish that it would soon come to an end.
Even in the haze of cannabis smoke, or perhaps made more clearer from the herb's effects, he came to question his own sexuality, and felt as though he no longer knew himself. As mentioned, the show is enjoyed by those who are attracted to women, but this fact led to a realization for Twister he had never before come to:
He is not.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
The song finally came to an end, as did Luna's lapdance. The aftermath of the performance was a very hot and bothered Sam Sharp, a very prideful Luna Loud, and an Otto Rocket staring in absolute amazement as his body was drenched in sweat from the sheer excitement he held.
"I'm hard like a dragon right now." Otto moaned.
"That's a sign that our little experiment's working. Now, let's see if subject number 2 had the same results." Luna said.
Walking up to Twister, Luna put her hand on his crotch, checking for his arousal, much to his chagrin.
"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" Twister yelped.
No signs of arousal could be found on his body, leading Luna to retract her hand.
"Nope. He's soft as putty. He's a killer queen, gunpowder, gelatine, dynamite with a laser beam. What do you think about that, Otto?" Luna asked.
Otto paused for a short period before answering, wearing a blank expression on his face.
"I'm sorry, what? I forgot what we were doing here." Otto said.
Otto's reaction got more laughs out of the group, except for Twister, who continued to smolder in discomfort.
"Oh, oh! I remember now! You girls liked that weed, right? Well, if you wanna take it a step higher, we got something else you're gonna love." Otto said.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a bag of the material he found in the bathroom, displaying it to the rest.
"Hashish. You wanna try?" Otto asked.
"Brah, I get any higher than this, my legs are gonna give out." Luna said.
"Mine already did." Sam Sharp said.
"Suit yourselves. Twist, come hit this shit with me." Otto said.
"Otto, I'm not really feeling it anymore. Can we just-" Twister began to say.
"No, no, don't give me that, come over here."
Emptying the burnt marijuana bud out of his pipe, Otto filled it back up with the hashish, lighting and smoking it. Sheepishly following along, Twister moved up to Otto and knelt beside him, preparing to smoke along. After lighting the hashish, Otto took the first puff, with Twister following suit.
"How is it?" Luna asked.
Otto and Twister both shared a few more puffs of the hashish, finding the results less than to their satisfaction.
"Huh. This stuff's a lot weaker than I thought. We'll have to smoke some more." Otto said.
At last making his way up the stairs, Lynn Sr. walked through the door to Luna's room, finding his daughter and her girlfriend sitting back while Otto and Twister continued to smoke. The smell of marijuana reeked in the room, making the past events more than obvious, but Lynn Sr. reacted in a more positive manner than expected.
"Oh, hey! You guys've been smoking a little Mary Jane, huh? Heh-heh, I remember when I used to fire it up nearly every day back in college, those were the days. Man, this stuff smells pretty strong." Lynn Sr. said.
With Luna and Sam mostly half-conscious and barely able to respond, Lynn Sr. moved his attention to Otto and Twister, taking note of the substance they were smoking.
"Hey, whatcha guys got there? Looks a lot different from the stuff I had." Lynn Sr. said.
"Oh, hey, man, we found your hash. We'll pay you back for it, cross my heart." Otto said.
"Hash? I didn't cook any hash browns today."
"No, no, man, your hashish. I didn't wanna be a dick and just smoke it, but, I'm going to war against aliens and shit, I need a little something to take the edge off."
"What are you talking about?"
"You know, your hashish. The stuff you left on your bathroom counter. By the way, this stuff's not that good, I think you got ripped off for it. I've been puffing this 10 times now and I can't feel a thing."
The situation and line of questioning confused Lynn Sr. to a great degree, but a moment of thought made the truth more clear, and the truth behind the hashish revealed.
"Oh, you mean my kidney stone? I passed it this morning, kept it out so the doctors could look at it." Lynn Sr. said.
The answer revealed behind the true identity of the hashish made Otto and Twister both look at Lynn Sr. in a dead silence of shock and disbelief, unsure if they had processed the information they were given correctly. In the hopes of hearing differently, they allow Lynn Sr. a chance to correct the record once more.
"What?" Otto asked.
-
Back downstairs...
"Good gracious, he's taking awhile up there." Rita thought aloud.
"Well, that's how husbands are, ma'am. I can attest, being one myself, ngh-heh-heh." Nigel joked.
"Well, in any case, I still don't know about my son hanging out with a bunch of strangers."
"You don't have to worry about that, my fair lady. We're quite responsible for our own, and take care of ourselves."
The conversation was interrupted by a pair of feet running down the stairs and towards the door, only able to glimpse it as Otto and Twister rushing by.
"Go, go, go, go, go, go!" Otto yelled.
Bursting through the door, Twister led the way outside to the yard, with Otto following behind and coughing and gagging in disgust as he did.
"Oh, god, oh, god, why did you talk me into this, dude?!" Twister groaned.
"I thought it was hash!" Otto groaned.
"It wasn't hash!"
"It looked like it! So, I was wrong!"
"Oh, god, I got piss rocks in my lungs, dude! It burns!"
"It's the salt! It's burning me, too!"
Desperately trying to get the remaining residue of the kidney stone out of their lungs, Otto and Twister shared several pained coughs and gags, eventually beginning to dry heave from the taste of the smoke in their mouths. Needless to say, what high they experienced before was nowhere to be found now, and what joy they gained turned to ode with the great mistake they made.
And Rita, watching the aftermath of this mistake, turned to the group with an unamused face.
"You're 'quite responsible'?" Rita asked.
"Eh... Except them, we're watching them, too." Nigel explained.
-
The incident is the last straw in the decision of the Louds, who, after assisting with the needs of Otto and Twister with glasses of water and humidifiers, return to the past conversation with even less interest than previously held. The words are all but inevitable to be heard, but they are dreaded nonetheless by all parties begging and hoping for a 'yes'.
"Our answer is no." Lynn Sr. said.
"Mr. and Mrs. Loud, please, you don't understand what's at stake here. He could be one of, if not the, deciding factor in our success." Dib pleaded.
"Then you'll have to find someone else." Rita said.
"Please, mom, dad! I want to go with them! They need my help! The world needs Ace Savvy again!" Lincoln begged.
"We said no, Lincoln."
"PLEASE! I have to do this! They're counting on me!"
"Lincoln Loud, you are not going with them, and that is final!" Lynn Sr. scolded.
Yelling in frustration, Lincoln ran upstairs past everyone else, going to his room and slamming the door. The display, immature as though it was, nonetheless shared the same feelings that the rest of the group felt, failing once again to secure another hero to fight on their side.
With nothing else to do to achieve their goals, a silent exit is made for the rest.
"Thank you for your time." Arnold said.
While the group left the house, Lincoln remained alone and upset in his room, looking out the window as he watched the heroes leave. Depression sets in as he faced the reality that he could not fight alongside the Green Eye, much less fulfill his purpose as a hero.
Upon his wall, the costume of Ace Savvy is mounted in display, serving as a reminder to the days when he fought in it, living out his dream of being a superhero. He knows that his parents will never let him fill the suit again, never again take up the fight against evil that he loved to fight, forced to live a normal life once again.
Then, another thought struck him, one made in pure adolescent rebellion and determination:
Why bother with his parents' permission?
-
Leaving the Loud House, the group all marched back to the Comvee, loading it full still in silence as they faced defeat once again.
Arnold is one of the few who does not fully share the malaise of the rest, instead sharing the same in annoyed indifference as he simply waited for this mission to come to an end. The man responsible for him taking up the mission stood behind him and gave a pat on his back, proving the sincerity behind his next words.
"You surprised me quite a bit back there, lad." Nigel said.
"Hmm? Impressed you with what?" Arnold asked.
"Back there when I lost my temper. You stood up and made me stand back down."
"Oh, yeah. Well, it would've have helped anything if you got into a yelling match."
"It showed quite a lot of leadership. That's good, especially for what we've got waiting for us."
"Doesn't mean that much. I'm going home once this is done. Not to mention, we've only got 1 stop out of 5 that we got anybody."
"Well, we shouldn't let that stop us."
"No, he's right. We were supposed to get enough manpower to help us, and we completely failed. All we got was the goddamn stoners." Dib groaned.
"Hey, two stoners, a computer geek, and his reporter girlfriend." Sam Dullard quipped.
"It doesn't matter! There's a whole alien invasion coming to Earth to kill us all, and that's to say nothing of Zim! What are we going to do now?"
Then, almost as if in response to Dib's question, the Comvee door opened and closed, with the sight of Lincoln Loud with a duffel bag found inside.
"Okay, I'm in, go, go, go!" Lincoln urged.
"What? But what about your parents-?" Marianne began to ask.
"Nevermind that, just drive! Drive!"
"Lad, did you sneak out and-?" Nigel began to ask.
"Go already! Before my parents find out! Drive!"
No longer arguing with the suddenly-appearing Lincoln Loud, Marianne floored the gas pedal of the Comvee, driving away fast in an instant.
"Dude, you snuck out?" Tyler asked.
"Of course I did. My parents wouldn't let me come, so I had to." Lincoln answered.
"Won't you get in trouble, man?" Donnie asked.
"Doesn't matter. I need to do the right thing."
"A boy after my own heart." Eliza joked.
With Lincoln now joining them in spite of the troubles they faced previously, Dib let out a sigh, knowing that at least some numbers were on his side.
"Alright. I guess that'll have to do." Dib thought aloud.
Tapping Arnold on the arm, Otto used his attention to display three fingers raised, smiling as he did so.
"So, we've got at least one heavy hitter on our side. You sure we can work with that?" Arnold asked.
"I hope so. I just hope we don't have any more surprises." Dib said.
-
The state of Michigan is comprised of two peninsulas, surrounded by 4 lakes. These 4 lakes, alongside the slightly more distant Lake Ontario, known as the Great Lakes of America, shared along a border with Canada and the United States. They are often a location explored for tourism, attracting many visitors with a love of wildlife.
There is a visitor who comes to this location now, but it is not a tourist, nor do they have any plans for the wildlife other than annihilation. Coming down from the skies, an Irken escape pod makes its way down to Earth following a long journey through space, finally reaching its destination.
Its arrival is announced with a loud splash into Lake Huron, making an ear-shattering boom as it collided with the Earth. Despite the loud noise, there is no one in the vicinity, no humans in the woodlands nearby to hear the crash-landing, and, with the escape pod under the water, there is no apparent evidence of its existence.
Except for one Irken who climbed out of the water, with her loyal S.I.R. following closely behind.
"[Earth. How long it's been.]" Tak thought aloud.
"[Master. Shall we get started on establishing a base?]" MiMi asked.
"[No. We've no time to waste. First things come first. First... we find Zim.]"
Chapter 18: Chapter 16: Invaders From Irk, Part 9
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 16: INVADERS FROM IRK, PART 9
The purpose of life is to continue by any means necessary.
It began on planet Earth with single-celled organisms that reproduced asexually, splitting themselves in half to create two of the same kind of creature. Further mutations down the millennia led to sexual reproduction in all its forms, with a male and female member of a species combining their genes to recombine them and create a stronger, more fit offspring.
This process began with the process of laying eggs and fertilizing them for many early species, and many kept this trait down the evolutionary line, but there soon came a form of sexual reproduction that no longer required laying eggs, with the females instead carrying the offspring in their own bodies until gestation was complete, and they would give live birth.
Although this is not unique to humans, the process has become unique in the way humans have interpreted it. Through sex, they have developed ideas of love and intimacy, creating entire works of art and expressions of language to express the inherent desires they have to propagate themselves.
It has become, as any human being will tell you, what makes them human.
This is a stark contrast to the Irken.
An artificial creature born of cloning and genetic tampering, it is not truly alive, nor can it reproduce on its own. Their bodies are grown in tanks to become hardy and strong, able to operate as foot-soldiers, as infiltrators, or whatever purpose that the Irken Empire may require of them, fine-tuning their very existence to become a cog in a war machine...
...but their brains are not capable of carrying the same consciousness as a human being, or any other form of sentient life. Created artificially and spliced into existence through means and history lost unto itself, it lacks the spark of life that can call it a truly living, sentient creature.
It does not have sex, it does not love, and it does not feel intimacy. It is as far from human as one can get.
It is a perfect soldier.
One is 'born' now in the Womb Workshops, a factory where new Irken offspring are grown. These Womb Workshops are located in what used to be a high school gym, the rest of the building having been destroyed by the Irkens long ago and repurposed for the needs of the Empire.
A 'Smeet' is what Irken younglings are referred to, which is contained in an artificial womb to gestate and grow until it reaches maturity. Designed from conception, they are preprogrammed and genetically engineered to serve a specific need and purpose, and never intended to break its programming.
The Smeet born now is released from its artificial womb, poured on the ground in a puddle of its own embryonic fluids. Alive in name only, its body slouched over, not having any consciousness behind it to move it, no ghost in the machine. This process comes shortly after its birth.
A robotic arm moved to the Smeet and fired a laser into its back, searing through the skin and tunneling into the spinal cord. These two openings are soon thereafter filled by the placement of a PAK, containing the artificial intelligence programmed to fulfill the needs of Irken Empire, complete with the appropriate personality needed for it.
Another arm then fired an electric shock into the Smeet, giving it a jolt to come to life at last, standing to attention soon thereafter.
"WELCOME TO LIFE, IRKEN CHILD. REPORT FOR DUTY." The Womb Workshop ordered.
Dutifully following his orders, the Smeet made his way out of the Womb Workshops, operating on his artificial instinct.
Upon exiting the destroyed high school gym, leaving with a full set of Irken fatigues, walking out under a dark red sky, turned toxic and forever blocking out any blue skies or sunshine from chemical warfare, the Smeet moved past various facets of the Irken Empire.
Wwalking by soldiers marching in goosestep across the town, he saw Slavedrivers pushing humans across the town, moving them as though they were cattle with no regard for their lives or safety. Many were barely clothed if at all, coughing at the toxic chemicals that polluted the air they once happily breathed.
Some humans had still remained in families, and were separated from each other to different fates.
Males were either castrated and thrown into slave labor or given a chance to join the Irken Empire, and females were stripped down by human traitors and given off as breeding slaves, being seen more as object than fellow human by those who turned their backs on their own species.
Children were given only slightly better reprieves; girls were separated for cheaper labor, outfitted with collars to keep them under control, where boys were shot on sight, thrown into mass graves. Infants were given the same assignments regarding their genders, but baby boys were bashed against hard objects, killing them instantly as to save ammunition for the Irkens.
All around him, there are displays of their conquest. It is an existential nightmare to the human race.
But to the newborn Irken, it is normalcy.
Making his way to what was once a sports stadium, the Smeet made its way before a pair of Honor Guards, preventing him from moving on.
"Identify yourself." An Honor Guard demanded.
"Drone Vitz. I am second hand of Imperator Zim." The Smeet replied.
Checking a PDA on his arm, the Honor Guard confirmed the Smeet's identity, allowing him to pass.
"You are expected. Proceed." The Honor Guard said.
The Smeet known as Drone Vitz was allowed to pass, making his way through the halls of the former sports stadium to his designated place.
As he stepped down the halls, the sounds of various humans in agony could be heard, filling the halls with screams as the Irkens had their way with experiments on their subjects. Vitz could see but small glimpses as he passed through, laying sights on atrocities that would make any sane human faint, committed by Irken Scientists and human traitors alike.
In one room, he could see one human having robotic implants and limbs being forcibly placed on without anesthesia.
In another, organs and limbs are harvested from subjects while keeping them alive throughout the procedure.
In another, genetic splicing is done, causing violent transformations that caused bodies to contort and deform in all manners of horrifying ways.
A human traitor walked past Vitz with a cart full of bodies that were once human, most of them bearing more resemblance to beasts or monsters than people, and all dead from the aforementioned process. It is all a house of horrors that defies human comprehension...
...but, again, is only natural to an Irken, as is with Vitz's unfettered lack of reaction.
What finally does get a disturbed look from the newborn Irken is the sight of Imperator Zim, seeing a form of Irken that he is not familiar with, even with his predisposed programming. The height of Zim is taller than any Irken he has seen yet, immediately recognizing him as the prime authority figure.
But what made Zim appear unnatural even to an unnatural being was his body bearing resemblance to that of a human's. Though Zim is obviously not human, he is not fully Irken, either, and his appearance is both abomination and admiration for the Smeet, conjuring emotions of fear and respect.
Adding to this display of bodily horror, Zim had not yet faced Vitz, gaining only a glimpse of his back. His body was adorned in a long cape colored red, signifying his status of leader of the Irken race, and all the more obscuring the finer details of his body and how it differed from a true Irken's.
What gained the focus of Vitz was not even this, but instead on witnessing a personal ritual Zim carried out on himself. Taking a syringe of an unknown fluid, Zim injected it into his body, gently setting aside the now-empty syringe. His breath became steady and focused, as though he were preparing for pain.
Pain does come to Zim as he groaned, and portions of his body that resembled that of a human most, his muscles and skeletal structure, began to pulse and groan as a result of the injection. His muscles then began to expand, with his height elevating by at least an inch or two, giving himself more physical strength.
The Smeet Drone Vitz can do naught but watch in horror as his leader began changing, shuddering in his boots.
"Have no fear, little Smeet. It is only my way of elevating to greater power." Zim said.
Believing his presence unknown before, Vitz immediately dropped to his knee, kneeling before Zim in obeisance. Though not facing his subject, Zim smiled as Vitz knelt down, knowing of his submissive action even without seeing it, and soon turning to face the Smeet with a smile.
"You may rise." Zim commanded.
Vitz complied with his order, looking up to see Zim still smiling on him.
"Greetings, Imperator Zim. My name is-" Vitz began to say.
"Vitz, Service Drone to me. I know, little Smeet. Nothing lives in this universe without my consent. I saw to your creation." Zim said.
"Imperator, I live but to serve you."
"Yes, you do."
"How might I serve you, Imperator?"
"You may follow me for a walk."
Proceeding back down the halls of the sports stadium, Zim had his newborn servant follow close behind. While Zim, tallest of all Irkens, walked with long strides in his steps, his leisurely walk was a speed too fast for Vitz to follow at the same rate of walk, forcing him to walk faster to keep up with Zim.
"Have you perused our experimentation rooms?" Zim asked.
"I saw but glimpses, Imperator. My first and foremost task was to see you." Vitz answered.
"Correct. Have you an understanding of what this place is?"
"It appears as though we experiment with this planet's indigenous species here, Imperator."
"Very good."
"What species is this, and why do we experiment on them?"
Vitz's question is what makes Zim react differently, making him turn and observe Vitz with a raised eyebrow.
"You are curious. I don't recall this being in your programming." Zim said.
"My curiosity only exists to better serve you, Imperator." Vitz replied.
"Ah. A good answer. Perhaps, then, I can put your curiosity to use."
"How might I, Imperator?"
"By entertaining me."
"...Entertaining you, Imperator?"
"I am the most intelligent of the Irken race, little Smeet. It is I who has led us to conquest and dominance all across the galaxy, and continue on throughout the universe. But Irkens are made to serve. They do not question orders or think for themselves. They are good soldiers, but poor conversation makers. I think, and I have many introspective thoughts, but none to share them with. You might serve that purpose well."
"Nothing would please me more, Imperator."
"Excellent. I will answer your first question: These creatures are called humans. They are apes which became the dominant species of this planet some millennia ago. They create their own civilizations and create tools, possessing technological ability; inferior to our Irken technology, but not unlike it fundamentally."
"I see, Imperator."
"Now, I will ask you a question to answer your second, a question which humans often ask themselves: What is the meaning of life?"
Curious as Vitz may be, the philosophical question is beyond what he is capable of thinking, and there is no answer he comes to.
"I do not understand the question, Imperator. What do you mean by 'meaning' of life?" Vitz asked.
"The meaning of life, Vitz. The why it exists. Why life is, and why it came to be." Zim clarified.
"I do not contemplate such concepts, Imperator."
"I see. So, you are not so curious after all. Or... perhaps the concept is too far beyond you to understand."
"Whatever answer is satisfactory to you, Imperator."
Zim chuckled at Vitz's response, seeing it fit the point he was making.
"That's how humans often answer the question. Whatever answer is satisfactory to them. Some may choose to find it in completing a societal task, trying to perpetuate or improve the political systems they invented. Some may find it in each other, devoting it to selfless acts of preservation to one another, which they often called 'love'. Some found it in a concept they called 'religion', devoting their lives to mass hallucinations in the hopes that another life awaited them when they expired. They were at least-half right with that one, but not in the way they thought." Zim explained.
"Which of those, then, is the true answer, Imperator?" Vitz asked.
"That, is the curiosity once again. The correct answer is: To perpetuate."
"To perpetuate, Imperator?"
"To reproduce. To create more of itself. That is the sole reason why all life exists. Humans unique in that they are but a handful of sentient species which was unsatisfied with this answer, and invented their own in its place. However, what they do not consciously acknowledge is that their other answers all center on reproduction; all their actions dwell on their ability to see themselves live on through their own creations."
"How so, Imperator?"
"They create immaterial concepts called art. This is supposedly something that makes a human being 'human', but it is merely yet another means of attracting attention to themselves. They are a social creature whose power lies in numbers and cooperation, but such connections are finnicky and often subject to ruin. Anything that a human does, it is to attract more humans unto itself, and done for the purpose of reproducing."
While walking down the halls of the stadium, Zim and Vitz came across a pair of Slavedrivers pushing a family of four, consisting of a mother, father, son, and daughter, all restrained in shackles behind their backs. Upon encountering Zim, the Slavedrivers stopped in their task to give their allegiance to the Imperator, giving a fascist salute to him.
"Hail Zim!" The Slavedrivers yelled.
"Slavedrivers, where are you taking these four?" Zim asked.
"To processing, Imperator." One Slavedriver answered.
"Your processing will be done here. I have an education to give to my Drone. Disrobe the full-grown humans."
Complying with the orders of Zim, the Slavedrivers stripped the mother and father naked, tearing the clothes off their bodies.
"Do you see the growths between their legs?" Zim asked.
"Yes. I assume those organs are how they reproduce, Imperator?" Vitz asked.
"Correct. The process is quite inefficient; the organs must connect and generate friction between each other for an amount of time anywhere from a few seconds to hours, and the male deposits a seed which fertilizes an egg within the female. This process requires much trial and error, and the female is subject to numerous circumstances which could lead to the death of the unborn human, and a total of 9 Earth months must cycle before the female pushes the new human out of its body."
"And it is as big as these offspring that accompany them?"
"No. A human larva is about a third of their sizes, and quite vulnerable. Where you were born mere minutes ago and have served me immediately, a human does not fully grow to its full use until at least 16 Earth years have cycled. Despite all these shortcomings, they have managed to amass a total of 8 billion of themselves on this planet before Irken rule, and they had somewhat functioned as a whole."
"And all this power lies in their genitals?"
"Yes. It is their genitals that give them strength, that gives them the will to defy, and creates a certitude that gives them determination for whatever goal it sets for itself. This is more true often with males than females. Ironically, while the male human has more use and purpose to the Empire, their genitals are easier to remove."
Both the father and mother grew anxious at the implications of Zim's comment, nervously shuffling in place.
"Ah, did you take notice of that, Vitz? That twinge of fear they showed? That's the first sign of the influence of their genitals. Any and all threats that come to them, this is cause for self-preservation instincts to come forth and ensure their protection. Even the female shows this, even when her genitals are not at risk: She has chosen this male for her mate, and used him to produce two healthy offspring already, and fears that her source of seed will be lost." Zim explained.
"Could the female not find another male, Imperator?" Vitz asked.
"Yes, but not by will. Not easily, at least. Their genitals also provide a great dose of pleasure when used, releasing endorphins into their brains."
"So, it is purely for pleasure that humans reproduce? Alongside this instinct to preserve their own species?"
"Yes. Their sense of pleasure is derived from the same release that their genitals give them. They often find new ways to replicate this feeling, often by activities that they call 'recreation', creating tasks and goals that often serve no purpose. Some also seek to achieve this high through ingesting substances through the stomach or lungs, altering their perceptions in the process. Much like reproduction itself, humans return to the habits they form to achieve this feeling again and again, in a dependency they call addiction. Their entire drive for life is fueled by chemical dependencies, originating from their organs of generation."
"Ah... I understand now, Imperator. What a peculiar species. A pity they serve no inherent purpose."
"Oh, they do serve a purpose, inherent or not, Vitz, but it is only through some adjustments that they serve the Irken Empire, though it is nothing too challenging. Slavedrivers, castrate the male."
Panic now set into the father as he struggled against the restraints, and unable to do even that as one Slavedriver held him down, spreading his legs. The other Slavedriver knelt down to his crotch, pulling out a small blade that glowed with heat, taking to his gonads with the tool.
With one quick cut, the father's testicles were removed, the severed organs plopping into a bucket placed below. The wound was cauterized with the heated blade, but the pain is immense, making him scream in agony, all while the mother and her children watched and cried for his suffering.
Once more does Vitz fail to react with empathy or concern, instead looking with a passing interest as though examining a bug.
"Irkens can control their population growth, and design their newborns from before their birth to ensure they are needed and are of use to the Empire. Humans are far too unpredictable with their reproduction by their very nature, and thus must be controlled. Removal of the testicles ceases all ability and drive for breeding, and breaks his will easily. He will serve the Empire as a slave." Zim explained.
"And the female and offspring, Imperator?" Vitz asked.
"The female will have her arms and legs removed and be given to the humans who serve the Empire. The pleasure of their genitals also serve for incentive to serve us: So long as their carnal habits are fulfilled, they serve us well. The younger female is not of breeding ability, she will serve some minor slave use until that time, where she will join her progenitor."
"And the male child?"
Stepping up to the boy, Zim observed him with a discriminatory eye, receiving a look of fright from his as the Imperator inspected him.
"He will serve me personally in my lubber. Have this one prepared for me and served within the hour." Zim ordered.
"Yes, Imperator!" The Slavedrivers ordered.
The father, still bent over and crying in pain, was escorted alongside his grieving wife with one Slavedriver, with the other escorting the children to their doom.
Having Vitz follow behind, Zim made his way to the seats of the stadium, seating himself alongside several other Irkens, but with his own private seat set aside for his enjoyment. Several Drones stayed by his side at his beckon, waiting to fulfill whatever whim he so had.
Vitz stayed at his right hand, continuing to listen to his lessons.
"Is all the human species good for only slave labor and basic military use? This seems... impractical from the Irken drive to destroy and conquer. Even their breeding habits are too slow to warrant use as food. Why not wipe them out and be done with it?" Vitz asked.
"You do have much to learn, Vitz. Suppose we brought the human race to extinction. Then what would become of us?" Zim asked.
"We would win, Imperator."
"And then what?"
"We would become the owners of this planet and its resources."
"And then what?"
"We would move on to the next planet."
"And then what?"
"We would repeat what we had done on Earth."
"And then what?"
"We would continue until we conquer the universe."
"And then what?"
This question is where Vitz finally has no more answers, forcing him to pause and contemplate, using his curiosity to find a solution, but again to no avail.
"I... do not know, Imperator." Vitz said.
"Of course not. You do not question orders. Again, a good soldier, but it is I who was able to question, and that is why I lead. It is a good and glorious thing that the Irken race does conquer and destroy, to consume all and cleanse this universe, but there still lies the question of the spoils of our war. We will become the only living species in the entire universe, and what will lie for us next? Humans do serve our purposes for war, but this is because they are, in many ways, a warlike species. They conquer and consume just as we do. They even praise many of their own in their historical records, rewarding those who kill their own with praise. One such is Alexander the Great. It has been said that, when he took all territory around him, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer. What shall become of the Irken race when there are no more worlds for us to conquer?" Zim asked.
"I should hope our conquest will reach so far to have the luxury of that dilemma, Imperator."
"I should hope not, little Smeet. If there's one thing that I've learned about war, it's that it's just as addicting as humans find reproduction. Once you start, you never want to stop. Never can you stop basking in the death and destruction wrought by your hand, and always is it satisfying. After it's over... you just end up bored. So, I've found another use for these humans and their interests of war and reproduction."
Down in the stadium, a pair of muscular, armor-bound gladiators were sent to opposite sides of the arena, roaring in rage as they walked on the field. Little to no hesitation existed between the time between their introduction to the field and their battle, with the two angrily bashing into one another with blunt weapons.
"When you saw the male's sexual organs, you noticed that there was a penetrative organ as well as sac underneath it, yes?" Zim asked.
"Yes, Imperator. You mentioned the sac contained the organs which created the seeds it implants in the female." Vitz said.
"Correct. The penetrative organ is how it implants the seed. When it is removed, the male no longer has the means of implanting his seeds, or even pleasuring itself. When the sac is left, the male continues to produce seed without release, causing them to go into violent rages. Very inefficient for a slave, but quite effective for purposes as this."
"Making them attack each other in a blind rage? What purpose does that serve?"
"For my own recreation and fun. We Irkens bask in the glory of war. But we can also appreciate when our enemies destroy themselves; this leaves less of an enemy to fight for us."
"Ensuring a better victory."
"And the enjoyment of watching a resistance fail."
Still do the gladiators continue to bash against each other, making use of their weapons in primitive instincts to kill. Nothing exists in their heads but pure hate for one another, and a determination to see the other party die, mutilated beyond repair in spirit and body to no longer resemble human beings.
"Why do they fight each other at all, Imperator? And why does arresting their ability to reproduce contribute to this behavior?" Vitz asked.
"Their desire to fight is not unlike ours. They only fight for the right to more resources, in their sources of food and females. When one has more than the other, and is unwilling to share it, violence results from their unfulfilled needs. This, again, like many other facets of human drives, is perverted by their own flawed perceptions, and is often attributed meanings that are not truly there. Ultimately, they do so to perpetuate their own species. As for taking away their ability to reproduce, the question is a tad more complicated, and one we explore here. The most obvious answer would seem to stem from their hormones, having no means to release them, and the lack of release drives them mad. But the human is also a social creature. One might assume it would assume some other role to see its brethren perpetuate, but, they instead choose violence." Zim explained.
Further proving Zim's point, one gladiator sufficiently beat the other to make him fall on his back, unable to get up again. Taking his blunt weapon in hand, the victorious gladiator bean beating the other in the head, ragefully turning the sturdy skull that kept his brains safe and healthy into pulp.
One gladiator is dead, and the other lives, who now received cheers from the Irken crowd.
"As I said, they are a warlike species as well. But they are different from us in that they wage their war with the intent of propagating themselves. This tactic, logical as it may seem in theory, in fact leads to more of their own demise in practice. Their sexual reproduction requires that they avoid inbreeding at all costs to ensure healthier and stronger offspring, and reducing their own gene pool merely serves against that purpose. This is not unique among sentient creatures, but not fully common, either. Nonetheless, for all their self-imposed purposes they lie themselves into, misusing logic and reason to concepts that have no physical existence, they are subservient to but one power: Life." Zim explained.
"Pardon me, Imperator, but what do you mean by life being a power?" Vitz asked.
"Life comes out of nearly anything, little Smeet. It was by accident that it occurred on this planet, and, throughout millions of years, it eventually gave way to humans out of mere single-cell organisms. Life exists to survive. Evolution is its greatest tool to sustain at all costs, constantly changing to fit its new environment. In whatever form it comes, life still survives, no matter what. It is incredibly hard to stop."
"And what about us? Are we not alive, Imperator? Did we not evolve?"
"No, we did not. We are not life in the manner that these humans are, or most species in the universe. Our bodies are but organic machines, and our own consciousness comes from our PAKs, just as yours gave you your name and assignment when you finished growing. We Irkens did not evolve on our own. We were grown, and we became the perfect solution for life. Life changes constantly, like a virus spreading its influence about the universe. We Irkens are the antivirus. We are here to bring life itself to an end. We, little Smeet, are anti-life."
When the battle between the gladiators came to an end, the victor was escorted away as his victim's remains were collected and taken off the field. Calling for more, the Irken audience called for yet more entertainment, wishing to have their inherent warlike urges met with a worthy substitute.
Nothing here is enough to satisfy their urges to destroy and conquer, but what is presented next is yet another attempt to quench their bloodthirst. The next scene is different than the previous: Brought onto the field was a little girl with a belly fat from overfeeding, and her mother, scrawny and malnourished, with both having collars placed around their necks.
Brought onto the stadium ground was also a small statue, with the Irkens who brought it out opening it up to show it was hollow inside, and large enough to hold the child that was brought out as well. Though the child mostly stood confused, the mother broke down crying, falling to her knees.
"What is this, Imperator?" Vitz asked.
"Another example of how life preserves itself. Or, rather, an experiment on the matter. Humans sustain themselves by consuming food to fuel their bodies, and procreate as much as possible to ensure their species survives. This is a means to see the two drives at odds with each other, and see which wins out. There are certain species which, when food is scarce, will cannibalize on their young. Humans are not among those, despite them having the ability for logic, which would, in theory, drive them to make use of their offspring as sustenance. However, there is a misuse of logic for something they call 'morality', in which they draw arbitrary boundaries for themselves based on the cultures they live in. Those who betrayed their species and serve us do not appear to have this deficit, but they are far and few between. This is a test to see if all humans can overcome their sense of morality, and can become fully functional to the Irken Empire. The young female is the offspring of the older one, and, as you may have guessed, the offspring has been more than well-fed while the mother has been starved. The statue placed in the middle is a cooking device, made specifically to hold the child inside while a fire lit underneath cooks it, and supply the mother with food to eat." Zim explained.
Nearly driven mad by the conundrum placed before her, the mother screamed and cried as the decision was forced upon her, grabbing her own daughter as she approached to give her a hug. Still does the child not understand why her mother cries, but she does her best to comfort her, blissfully unaware of what awaits for her.
"What will become of the mother if she refuses to cooperate, Imperator?" Vitz asked.
"You may have noticed the collars around their necks. If the mother declines to cooperate, both her and her offspring will have their heads removed from their bodies, killing them instantly. In order to recreate the situation needed for a human to feed on their young as a lower animal would, the knowledge that both will perish if nothing is done will incentivize action. It is my pleasure to hold the switch to their collars... and I believe I will give them a reminder now." Zim said.
Pressing the button to a controller set aside for him, the button caused the collars on the two victims below to beep and flash a light, signaling that action must be taken. Forced into a cruel situation and now forced to carry through with it, the mother carried her child to the statue, placing her within.
Picking up the top of the statue, the mother prepared to place it on top, sealing her daughter inside and preparing her to cook...
...but the mother had snapped out of her panic just before placing the top on, coming to realization with her actions. Ashamed of herself, the mother threw the top to the ground, shattering its porcelain build and leaving shards and pieces all about, with the mother once again crying as her shame got the better of her, with the Irkens above jeering her actions.
The child still does not understand why her mother cries, but, when she saw her own mother take a glass shard and drive it in her neck, dragging it across to cut her own throat and choke to death on her own blood, the orphaned daughter cannot think about anything except the grieving loss she felt for her mother.
Climbing out of the statue, the child shook her mother in the hopes that she would rise again, receiving no response in spite of her desperate need to see her mother live again. The display continues to draw boos from the Irken crowd, and a sigh of annoyance from Zim as he saw his experiment fail.
Unamused by the sight, he activated the switch to the girl's collar, causing her head to fall off her body in an instant. Conscious of her decapitation only for seconds before her eyesight went black, the daughter has left her scarred homeworld with no understanding of how she died or for what reason.
The mother and daughter are dead, and still is the Irken crowd not pleased.
"It seems that the mother's instinct to preserve her offspring took precedent, Imperator." Vitz said.
"So it would seem." Zim sighed.
"You must confess, Imperator; a waste this might have been, there is an efficiency to be beheld in a simple decapiation. The body is shut down instantly with no means of fighting back, and the death is guaranteed and fast. If only all the universe had but one neck, yes, Imperator?"
"How creative a thought. Sadly, it would be far less glorious and entertaining if it were all done in one swift motion. There would be no fond memories to look back on, nothing to bask in, no hard work to appreciate. It would almost make the entire task of annihilation pointless if there were no fun to be found in it."
"You begin to sound less like an Irken and more like a human, Imperator."
The observation earned Vitz a look from Zim with a pair of eyes that displayed thoughts as ambiguously deciphered as they are thought by Zim himself. There is reason for him to feel offense from the comment, and anger is more than communicated in the observation once it has been made...
...but there is also an acknowledgement of the reality presented back to him, and a lack of argument on his part that can be made in response. He knows that he is no longer simply an Irken, both from the genesis of his usurping the Irken Empire itself to his own ends, as well as his various experimentations he has conducted on himself...
...and it leaves much curiosity behind, with thoughts nearly humanlike in their way vowing to think further.
"Hmm." Zim said.
The vague response to Vitz's comment led the drone to wonder himself regarding Zim's reaction, questioning himself as well as his place to speak.
Thoughts and introspection are conjured and made use of for both parties, all while the Irken crowd angrily awaited new entertainment in the stadium, but Zim is not permitted the same luxury as his own subordinates. Coming to his reserved seat was an Irken scientist, greeting his leader with a fascist salute as he approached.
"Hail Zim!" The scientist pledged.
"You may speak." Zim said.
"Imperator, we have investigated the remains of the military base the human resistance used."
"And?"
"We have found something worth your attention, Imperator. Your presence is requested in our laboratories."
Facing some small disappointment with his entertainment needs being unfulfilled here, Zim rose to follow the scientist.
"Come, little Smeet. Our pleasure is done here." Zim said.
-
Horrors such as this and more await the human race in the future, but the present is where a chance remains for time to change, and this outcome to be prevented.
Those who give the human race its fighting chance are a handful of those who the world may call heroes, assembled by Dib Membrane, the son of a real-life example of the mad scientist trope. Dib himself is not so far removed in terms of mental stability from his father, but he has managed nonetheless to assemble the following to defend the Earth:
Otto Rocket and Rocket Power, a group of renegade skaters with skateboards that defy gravity...
...Lincoln Loud, formerly known as Ace Savvy, who can absorb and redirect energy into making any object, turning it into an explosive...
...and Arnold Shortman, who has forsaken his past as the Green Eye.
Those he has aquired are but 3 out of 6 he has sought out, getting literally half of the firepower he needs, gaining Lincoln by but a second before presuming him a failure. As the saying goes, however, beggars can't be choosers, and Dib has had less than any option other than to operate on but the goodwill of others, and his lack of one.
Now, with all riding along in the Comvee, the time for action is here.
"Alright. So, that makes the Green Eye, Rocket Power, and Ace Savvy." Dib said.
"Just Arnold. Don't call me the Green Eye." Arnold corrected.
"Whatever. Point is, we've got less than what we need, but it'll have to do. First thing we do is head back to my house, we'll regroup there."
"No."
"What?"
"Now that we got who you need, we go after this Zim of yours, and we make sure he doesn't have Curly. I don't want to waste any more time."
"Mr. Shortman, respectfully, you don't know what we're dealing with here."
"You've explained enough. It's an alien here to destroy us, I can work with that."
"I've got more information to go over back at my house. I've been studying Zim for years, mapping out his house as best as I could, finding out whatever information I could about Irkens-"
"It doesn't matter. We go in, stop him, and get Curly's body. We go to Zim now. Where do we find him?"
"You seriously wanna do this now, man? We've been cramped around in the Comvee for days. We could use some rest beforehand." Otto interjected.
"You've been doing nothing but resting this whole time. You can let out your cabin fever on the alien."
"Well, can we at least stop and eat something first? I missed dinner to come join you guys." Lincoln said.
"We'll stop at a Good Burger."
"We don't have any in my area, just Burpin' Burger."
"Fine, we'll go there. As long as the next stop's the alien."
The insistence of Arnold was unbreakable from the arguments presented by the others was is a testament to his will, and determination to see his mission accomplished. But now he was met with the gentler words of Nigel Thornberry, putting a kind hand on his shoulder to gain his full attention.
"Arnold, son, I understand why you want to go and fight as soon as possible, but we've been up and at work the entire time. We've barely stopped at all but for gas and cheap food. I believe I can speak for the rest when I say a reprieve would do them good. A soldier fights better and harder when he's had his chance to prepare himself." Nigel argued.
"A soldier doesn't get to choose when the fight happens." Arnold retorted.
"True. But we do still have some time on our hands. I suggest we take the time to rest, have a supper together, and we can fight after. We'll be better off for it. Sharpen the axe before we head to the woods."
Once again swayed by Nigel's fatherly instincts and kind nature, Arnold let out a sigh, surrendering his will to the request.
"Fine. Lincoln, looks like you get to guide us to the Burpin' Burger." Arnold said.
"No. I mean a real dinner, lad. We'll cook something right here in the Comvee." Nigel said.
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with a burger, Mr. Thornberry. You should know, you had one from the Shore Shack." Twister added.
"Quite right, but that's a special kind of meal made from real cooks, like that Uncle Tito of yours. We'll make one ourselves, I insist."
"What are you gonna make?" Reggie asked.
"Whatever you want. An occasion such as this, it could very well be your last meal. Hopefully not, but we should treat it as such nonetheless."
"Even if we all want different things?" Lincoln asked.
"So be it."
All remained silent in thought as they all contemplated what food they wanted, all pondering what could serve as a last meal. It is not a question many people ask themselves, much less any could be prepared for, and the question lays hard on most of the group, wondering what final pleasures of taste they would like to enjoy.
Most, but not all, as Lincoln Loud already has his in mind.
"Well, I know what I want: Peanut butter and sauerkraut sandwich." Lincoln declared.
The proud announcement got disgusted groans from the group, with Nigel sharing only a mild confusion.
"Peanut butter and sauerkraut? Egad, boy, did your superpowers give you a taste for strange things?" Nigel asked.
"Yeah, but I loved peanut butter and sauerkraut even before that. Don't knock it until you try it. My sister Lily loves them, too; I got her started on them young." Lincoln answered.
Nigel dismissed the confusion with a scoff, smiling in acceptance of Lincoln's choice.
"Alright, peanut butter and sauerkraut it is for the boy. Anyone else?" Nigel asked.
"A hotdurger and fries." Twister said.
"A 'hotdurger'?"
"You take hot dogs and put 'em in a burger bun, with all the burger toppings. Uncle Tito makes 'em great."
"Hot dog on a burger bun, alright, then. Anyone else?"
"I'll take a hotdurger, too, but I want mine with onion rings." Sam said.
"Make that three, but no cheese on mine." Reggie said.
"Make it four." Otto said.
"Alright, then, four hotdurgers and fries, one no cheese, one with onion rings. That leaves you, Arnold. What'll it be for you, lad?" Nigel asked.
"It doesn't matter to me." Arnold said.
"Oh, come, now, Arnold, don't say that. Surely there must be a favorite food of yours that you have. Something that really gets you excited to eat, something that gives a little enjoyment out of life from the simple act of acquiring nutrition. It's no imposition or anything, lad, it's whatever you want. So, tell me, what would you like?"
A one-track mind of purpose, Arnold has not allowed himself to think about luxuries and pleasures for long, and Nigel has prompted him to think about himself for a change, a free pass to be selfish and love himself. The question almost becomes impossible to answer as he has forgotten all about such manners of his own likes and dislikes, and, in turn, he has forgotten about himself.
Such a case of mindset would be nearly a crime, to forget one's self, but Arnold found a piece of it back when he was younger, remembering his family and the memories he shared with them, alongside others that he found to be important to him. The quickest answer is for pizza, but he forced himself to rethink the first suggestion, digging deeper for food with a more special connection.
And he began to smile as he thought of it.
"Pancakes. Pancakes and tapioca pudding." Arnold answered.
"Yet another eccentric choice of food, and one that stirs my curiosity. Why those two?" Nigel asked.
"My grandma loved making pancakes, and she always wanted to make sure I ate a lot. I've always liked tapioca pudding, and so does my fia-"
Once again forcing himself to stop just short of mentioning his disengagement, Arnold still caught the attention of the group, who looked and listened for more. Keeping his feelings still under lock and key, even from himself, Arnold does not allow them a chance to hear more.
"What about your kids? Aren't you gonna ask them what they want?" Arnold asked.
"I know my kids well, I already know what they're going to ask for. Being their dad for most of their lives makes you privy to that knowledge. It's you and the rest I'm getting to know now, and happy to know. Lincoln, lad, we'll be needing your directions to the nearest supermarket, we've got shopping to do. Just show my dear Marianne the way." Nigel called.
"Hey, wait, don't I get a special meal?" Dib asked.
"No." The group said in unison.
-
Following a trip to the local Super Mart, the Thornberry parents worked to cook up a banquet for their family and guests, preparing all sorts of different dishes for the varied tastes of those at the table. Used to hard work as parents, they are put to greater tests with work more fitting of a professional restaurant, but they desire the work all the same, and are happy to perform it to see the others happy.
Each person is seated in different places all about the Comvee, with some taking to the floor in order to see that everyone has a place to eat. Everyone is given their meal of choice, and the Thornberry parents the last to get their food, but they are satisfied enough to see everyone be fed.
"Well, that's everyone. I hope everything tastes as good as it all looks. And I hope Lincoln's tastes better than it looks. And smells." Marianne said.
"Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Thornberry. This looks fantastic, and I bet it tastes just as good! It's a hard dish to mess up, too." Lincoln responded.
"I figured it would be."
A silence then befell the group, none eating their meals even when presented fresh and hot, a fact which was not lost on the Thornberrys.
"Well, what's wrong, lads? Don't tell me you're not hungry all of a sudden?" Nigel asked.
"No, it's just..." Sam started to say.
"It might be our last meal. Just a hard fact to take in." Reggie interjected.
"Oh, yes, of course. It is a bit to take in, isn't it?" Nigel asked.
"Yeah." Sam said.
The group took a moment of silence together to take in the sight of their food, letting their eyes take in the appetizing sights that awaited them as their taste buds lingered in wait with saliva producing en masse, making the need to eat take the forefront of their minds.
But still there is need to do more before eating, another ritual that must be fulfilled.
"Well, uh... I know it's not Thanksgiving... and I'm not really one for prayer... but I just wanna say something before I eat." Otto announced.
The group then looked to Otto, waiting for what he wished to say.
"I, uh... I miss my dad a lot. I definitely wish he could be here now. I messed up a lot, and I want to show him that I'm trying to do better. I... I almost made a real big mistake that would've... would've meant that I wouldn't be here anymore. And I'm glad it didn't work. I'm glad that I have my family and my best friends." Otto said.
The group silently approved of Otto's short speech, and it encourages others to join in as well, starting with Sam.
"Uh... I'm glad to be doing what I like doing for work. I always like working with tech. But I also get to work with alien stuff now, which is cool. And I'm also really thankful to have a great girlfriend." Sam said.
Reggie smiled at Sam's words, and she decided to come through next.
"I'm happy that I have everyone important in my life still with me, and that one of them turned out to be a great pick for a boyfriend. And, no matter how much of a little shit he can be, I still love my brother." Reggie said.
Many snickers came out from the group, with Otto's being the most noted, and Twister turned next to speak.
"I guess I'm just, uh, happy to be healthy and alive. Oh, and, uh, that I get to spend every day with my best friend. And that Squid still helps us with our NewTube channel. And that I get to work with boards every day. And weed. And junk food. And energy drinks. And, uh... And you guys get the point." Twister stammered.
Some of the heroes have had their chance to speak, and next comes the chance for some of the Thornberrys, starting with Eliza.
"I'm thankful that I got to spend most of my life around the world, that I got an amazing gift out of it, and I get to use it to help. And that my family still loves me and accepts me for it." Eliza said.
Shane grabbed Eliza's hand following her words, and he decided to speak up next.
"I'm glad I have a beautiful wife and my in-laws are all awesome, and they saved me from being another one-hit wonder pop star." Shane said.
Eliza giggled at her husband's joke and smiled at his genuine thankfulness, making the next Thornberrys to speak Donnie and Tyler.
"I'm thankful that I got three great families throughout my life. My parents, Michael and Lisa, the orangutans who raised me, and Nigel and Marianne... they're my parents, too." Donnie said.
"Yeah. I'm happy that I wasn't that annoying a cousin, and I got a good job with my aunt and uncle, and I'm part of an awesome band." Tyler said.
The heroes once again have a chance to speak again, with Lincoln pouncing at the chance to speak.
"I'm thankful to be a hero again and that I actually can do good in the world, and I'm thankful to meet lots of cool people along the way, especially the Green Eye." Lincoln said.
With Arnold the last to speak, and once again referred to as the hero he no longer believed himself to be, the room went silent and watched him with anticipation. He is the only one who has not partaken in the same ritual, and his thoughts are the ones most wanted to be heard.
Still Arnold does not feel comfortable with all the attention, and meekly does he sit before finally giving an answer.
"Thanks for dinner. We should eat now before it gets cold." Arnold said.
The response is not what the rest hoped to hear, but the point he has made is undeniable and cannot be argued against with much good reason. Taking his advice, all aboard the Comvee took to their diverse meals, taking in the tastes and flavors with greater appreciation than they had ever shown a meal before.
Arnold himself, stoic and unfeeling as he may present himself, does much of the same, taking to his food with greater enjoyment than even he had expected to have.
The light and fluffy texture of the pancakes make a soft chew in his mouth, with a sweet taste left behind in the start of its consumption. This, accompanied by a spread salty, savory butter, which served to accentuate the hearty addition of sweet and sticky maple syrup, made for a delicious treat that fully stimulated his taste buds to satisfaction.
But his meal is not complete; there is still the serving of tapioca pudding to go with it. This side-dish is served in a small pocket, bought off the shelf of the supermarket rather than cooked fresh like the pancakes, but the simplicity of the treat is no strike against it.
Rather, this simplicity adds to the enjoyment. Again does Arnold have a sweet taste fill his mouth, but this sweetness is different. Instead, it is a sweetness that comes not from sucrose and sap, but the South American starch and coconut milk, filling his mouth with a taste that gives him as much a nostalgic feeling as the pancakes.
It is one more baby step that he has taken to learning how to find himself again, a slow step to be sure, but a step in the right direction nonetheless.
-
Upon hearing the call of duty come to him in the service of defending humanity from alien invaders, Lincoln Loud was withheld from doing so by his own family, becoming perhaps the first and only human being to fail to save the Earth due to lack of his parents' permission.
Feeling the call to action stronger than he did his own parents' authority in his life, Lincoln Loud has left the house on 1216 Franklin Avenue behind, a house that has held him and his family for as long as he can remember, to join a rag-tag team of misfits to prevent the Irken menace from conquering the planet.
His absence is not yet noticed in the house; his lack of appearance during the rest of the day is attributed to him remaining in his room out of anger from his parents refusing to let him go. It is more than obvious to the Observant that he has left and is on his way to his role...
...but the Louds are not Observants, nor are they even privy to them as Lincoln once was.
Instead, the day goes on as usual as usual can be for a chaotic family of 10, and the attention to give out to the rest of the family is stretched far too thin to notice anything abnormal regarding Lincoln. His absence, however, is not something that the family will fail to acknowledge forever, as there is still one ritual where he is expected.
"DINNERTIME!" Lynn Sr. called.
Chaos reigns in the Loud House, with the 9 sisters running about with little care or concern except for their own vices and habits. There was formerly 10 sisters, with the eldest of Lori being the one who had the ability to reign in their personalities and bring some semblance of order to the house, but she is no longer present, now off to college.
Her services have been a boon to the Loud parents, but the promise of food is one mechanism that has always worked in their favor, and it works just like a charm in this instance as well. The loud and anarchic bouts of the Loud children come to a total and complete stop, with all rushing straight to the table with eyes and mouths open and hungry for food.
"Alright! What's for dinner tonight, dad?" Lana asked.
Lynn Sr. held up a large bowl, displaying the dinner of choice for the night, proudly declaring it as...
"Spaghetti and meatballs, the ol' Lynn Loud, Sr. special." Lynn Sr. answered.
"It's been 'spaghetti-n' time we had it again. HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! Get it?" Luan asked.
The vast majority groaned at Luan's joke, with the notable and gleeful exception of Lynn Sr., signaled by his own laugher.
"Ha! That's a good one, honey!" Lynn Sr. chuckled.
"The void in my body yearns for the seared remains of bovines and wheat, slathered in a sauce red like blood. I demand sustenance." Lucy said.
"Yeah, a princess needs her nutrition, you know!" Lola shouted.
"Alright, alright, settle down, I'll start serving, get your plates ready." Lynn Sr. said.
The girls all eagerly held up their plates to get a serving without a care for anything else, but the absence of Lincoln was at last picked up by one of the Loud sisters, this one being Luna. Looking about the table and surrounding rooms, her eyes caught no sign of her brother, a fact which distracted her from getting her serving.
"Luna, honey, hold your plate so I can serve you, please." Lynn Sr. requested.
"Hey, dad, you seen Lincoln?" Luna asked.
Now his absence is noticed by both Lynn Sr. and Rita, as well as the other sisters who now have this brought to their attention.
"I'll go get him, sweetie. You just keep serving the girls." Rita said.
Departing from the dining room to the upstairs closet that was repurposed into Lincoln's room, Rita knocked on the door before entering.
"Lincoln, honey? It's dinnertime. Come down and eat." Rita said.
The lack of response is mistaken as the age-old silent treatment, and Rita once again spoke in the belief that her son was still in his room.
"Lincoln, I understand that you're still mad at me, but I did what I did for your own good. I didn't trust those people, especially not the big-headed freak in the Matrix coat, and I was concerned for your safety. I mean, goodness, Lincoln, I know you've survived a lot with that Ace Savvy business, but a boy your age shouldn't have to. Try to understand that I'm responsible for you." Rita said.
Once again there is no answer, and now Rita's hand is pushed to come to the door handle.
"Lincoln, I'm coming in now. I'm not going to stand here and talk to the door, and you're not just going to ignore me." Rita said.
Stepping in the room, Rita found at last that it was empty, but not yet believing that Lincoln was gone. Looking about for any signs of life that may disprove that belief, Rita saw a piece of paper laying on the bed, with text written upon it that looked as though it was scribbled in a hurry.
She has read the note herself already, and, returning back downstairs, her husband and children are read aloud its contents as well.
"'Dear mom and dad, went off to fight aliens with the Green Eye. I know you don't believe me, but I still believe in myself, and I believe in the Green Eye. I can't waste myself here when the world needs me. I'll be back when we beat the bad guys. Love, Lincoln. P.S.: Tell Lisa I'll bring her back some alien technology, she's going to ask about that.'" Lynn Sr. read.
"How thoughtful of Lincoln, he knew I'd want to shtudy theshe creaturesh and their technology. I can almosht feel my brain produshcing oxshytocin in reshponshe to hish kindnessh. Almosht." Lisa said.
"Alright, I'm calling the police." Rita said.
"What? Why?" Lynn Sr. asked.
"Our son ran away from home with strangers. We need him brought back safely."
"Of course, but don't you think that going to the police is a bit much? He's 14 now, it's not like he isn't completely incapable of taking care of himself. Especially with his super-powers and fame."
"Those weirdos that took him with them should also get a reminder that kidnapping is still a legal crime. They'll be easy to spot with that big RV of theirs."
"Um, parental unitsh? If I may, I do believe that involving the polishce won't be neshcesshary. I have another meansh of finding Lincoln." Lisa interjected.
"Really? How?"
Lisa pulled out a small PDA, showing a homing beacon in the middle of its screen.
"I shurgically implanted a tracking devishce in hish left buttock while he wash ashleep. Contingenshcy plan I have for all family membersh." Lisa explained.
"You put tracking devices in all our butts?" Lola asked.
With her eyes going wide and a smile jagged and faked, Lisa's response was a suspicious and untrustworthy...
"No...?" Lisa lied.
"So that's why my butt's been extra-itchy lately." Lana thought aloud.
"Okay, that'll work just fine. We hop in Vanzilla and go pick him up." Lynn Sr. said.
"Wait! What about dinner?" Lynn asked.
"Lynn, honey, your brother just ran away from home. This is no time to be thinking about food." Rita said.
"We can't go after him on an empty stomach."
"Yeah, we can't just let meatballs-this food go to waste. HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! Get it? See, I can't even do a good joke when I'm starving." Luan said.
"Agreed. I totes get too thin if I don't eat enough. I mean, I like having a smaller butt, but it's my cheat day, and I want some carbs. Especially after I just flunked my S.A.T. again." Leni said.
The pressure of the hungry children wins a temporary victory over the mission of getting Lincoln again, with the parents sighing in annoyance.
"Okay, but you've got 10 minutes. After that, we expect you to get in Vanzilla and-" Lynn Sr. began to say.
Before Lynn Sr. could even finish his sentence, the sounds of vicious eating noises more befitting a pack of wild animals flooded the air, with marinara sauce being splashed around the room as the spaghetti was consumed by the young, growing, and hormonal Loud sisters.
Existing mere seconds ago, no trace of the spaghetti dinner could be found, left in its place 9 girls with full stomachs and faces plastered in marinara sauce. Several belches came out of their mouths, the releases of gas all sounding far more masculine than feminine.
The vicious sight of consumption left the Loud parents stunned for but a moment, soon returning to the task at hand.
"I mean... you girls get cleaned up, and hop in Vanzilla. We're gonna go get Lincoln." Lynn Sr. said.
"Aren't you guys gonna eat?" Lana asked.
"We'll just get drive-through." Rita said.
Piling into the minivan affectionately called Vanzilla soon after, the Louds departed on their mission to reacquire the prodigal son, with Lisa taking a rare seat up front with the parents, acting as the pathfinder to locate Lincoln Loud, and Rita and Lynn Sr. following her instructions with determination and purpose.
"Where to, Lisa?" Lynn Sr. asked.
"They appear to be making their way towardsh Detroit." Lisa said.
"Alright, then. Mr. Sulu, plot a course for Detroit." Rita said.
"You got it, honey." Lynn Sr. said.
"Whoo-hoo! Detroit rock city, here we come!" Luna shouted.
Chapter 19: Chapter 17: Wrath of Tak
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 17: WRATH OF TAK
The mind takes much time to heal.
Rudy Tabootie has much trauma in his head following his life in ChalkZone, but he has found the outlets of artistic creation and talkative therapy to help him through his troubles. His art gives him a means to contextualize his experiences, and his therapist gives him means to move past them altogether.
Both do him well, but they do not address the core of the problem:
What he cannot do is forgive.
The transgressor responsible for all his troubles not only is still alive, but is someone he is in regular contact with. Skrawl, a former failed drawing of Rudy Tabootie, is the one who is responsible for his life going wrong, has also become a third outlet in and of himself to give the means for his creator to find peace.
Atonement is what Skrawl seeks, making use of his new life as a couch. Making yet another visit into ChalkZone, Rudy laid atop him, staring at the sky in contemplation as he let his thoughts run free from his mouth, not allowing any filter to obstruct what he thinks and feels in order to seek his answers.
With the dilemma explained to him, Skrawl finds even he has a hard time discerning the right answer.
"I never thought I'd see the day when the real world turns crazier than ChalkZone. Superheroes, alien invasions, time travel; it's all straight out of one of your comic books." Skrawl joked.
"I wish. I could have a story around all that wrapped up and settled. It's not as easy in real life as fictional characters make it look." Rudy said.
"But you declined to help."
"I did. I have a family to think about now, Skrawl."
"That was your excuse when you pleged to stay in the real world. It seems you come here more and more often just to talk to me."
"Maybe I do. But I come to try to get to the bottom of this. I can't move on until I get past this."
"Sounds like you've got more pressing matters now than just me. The real world's counting on you, and you aren't going to answer its call?"
"There are enough people who can deal with it. I have my own problems."
"I'm sure there were people who thought that in the other timeline, too. That's probably why the aliens won then."
Rudy paused in contemplation at Skrawl's point, finding himself unable to offer a counter-argument.
"What would you have me do, Skrawl?" Rudy asked.
"The same thing I want to do, and hope I can help others do: The right thing. I've made plenty of mistakes, and both you and I are paying for them." Skrawl answered.
"I have more to pay than you. It's me who has to live with the consequences of your actions."
"And I, the guilt, along with the responsibility of trying to right that wrong. There's not a day that goes by when I don't wish I could take back what I did."
"Duly noted."
"Rudy, I don't know much. I'm nothing more than a bunch of scribbles that eventually found a new life being what I was intended to be. Back when I was just an amagamation of other people's ideas, I was designed to be a purposeless mass. Designed by accident, but designed nonetheless to be who I was. I had a role, I was set in it, and I couldn't change, because I was made the way I was. Even though you tried your best. It was Penny who finally managed to get through to me. Not by drawing something new, but just by reasoning with me. She gave me the last push I needed to help you defeat the Chalk King. I was filled with anger and hate, but I used that against the real enemy and made use of it. I know there's much anger and hate in you, mostly because I put it there. You've already done your best to use it to help others."
"It hasn't worked to help me."
"Maybe not. And you may have reasoned that what you did helped others to keep at it, but your reasoning wasn't wrong. You did help others. Your new powers to draw in the real world, that's a part of you that'll never go away. Your anger and hate, you've already used to try to help others. What's the difference in using it again now?"
"The anger that I used isn't there anymore. It started to dwindle away in between here, therapy, and just getting tired of killing."
"Then don't use anger. Use something else."
"Like what?"
"What was it that drew you to become ChalkZone's Great Creator?"
"I was a kid who liked to draw."
"No, it was more than just that. You were a child, yes, and there was something within you that drove you do right in ChalkZone. Do you remember what it was?"
"My creativity?"
"No, you've still got that. There was something else. Innocense."
"You mean naiviety."
"You had a desire to do good, and you did it regardless of the facts or consequences. You were a protector. Maybe ChalkZone no longer needs you, but the real world does. I know the adult in you would rather not, would rather stay in your place. But I know the child in you, the Rudy Tabootie that still exists in you, regardless of how much I tainted it... he will do the right thing."
Skrawl's final words are what stirrs great thoughts in Rudy's mind, reaching back in his past to touch his childhood, to feel the innosence that was spoken of. Of all the means of finding healing, he has searched outwards for an answer, but never has he looked back, turned to the past to find what was already there and waiting for him:
A child.
-
Concurrently with the Tabootie family, Rudy's absence is not too much noticed in the home of the family, with everyone else busy with their own tasks. Carol is as talkative as ever on the phone, continuing seemingly endless conversations with her friends at school, while Carlos had his face buried in a comic book, reading to get new ideas for his own art.
Penny is a busy mother dealing with two children of her own, but there are moments even she requires alone. The stress of her day job leaves her little time to spend with her family, but what little she has she devotes to them with love, but the call of nature still whisks her away from all other tasks to see to bodily functions.
Stepping into the bathroom, locking the door behind her, Penny removed her pants and underwear to make use of the toilet, but not before bringing another utility for the process. Having hidden a pregnancy test in her pocket, she positioned it underneath herself, urinating on the strip.
Sitting on the toilet proper to finish her relief and take her time to relax, the moment of silence and privacy is spent now in suspense, looking on the strip of the test to see what results it would read. Mixed emotions dwell in her mind as she wonders what the results will show, both her hormones and sense of logic coming to clash with each other in a fight over objective reality.
As always, the sense of logic wins out when the test reads positive.
-
The state of Michigan has an area over 90,000 square miles large.
Tak has to traverse across about 200 miles of it on her mission to gain revenge against Zim, a fellow Irken who has cost her status and recognition within the Irken Empire. With her compromised spacecraft crashed and destroyed in the waters of Lake Huron, she has passed the rubicon of her mission; there is no room for second guesses or means of return.
The chances of returning mean little to her all the same. She has been trapped on an alien planet outside of the Empire's reach for years, only now having her window of opportunity to get back within the graces of the Almighty Tallest. The mission is to obtain her revenge and redeem herself is simple:
Bring the Tallest the head of Zim.
Even having pushed herself through lightyears of space, even now trekking across miles of enemy territory on Earth to reach her destination, Tak does not allow anything to stop her. This is not to say the hazards of Earth do not pose a challenge in the way of her goal, however, as the hot sun beats down upon her alien skin, overheating her body and making her sweat profusely.
A holographic disguise put over her bears the image of a human with purple hair, reusing a disguise once previously utilized during her past attempt at conquest on Earth, but the dark clothing it projected did even less favors, the black and grey absorbing the heat much greater and amplifying the heat.
Her mission brings her down a long stretch of highway with no vehicles or buildings, with only the occasional tree or grass to be seen.
"[Ugh... I don't remember this planet being so das't hot. Have the humans occupying it continued using fossil fuels to power their machinery?]" Tak asked.
"[My scans show increased greenhouse gas effects, Master, your conclusion is confirmed. Perhaps you should wear a disguise with brighter colors.]" MiMi suggested.
"[No chance. I despise light colors. How much longer until we reach Zim?]"
"[Approximately 1/6 of an Earth day, Master.]"
"[Fark. I require faster transportation.]"
Whether by fate or coincidence, the dilemma to Tak's problems are solved as a minivan full of 9 girls and their parents began moving down the road, on a mission of their own. Though their mission is as important to the occupants as Tak's own mission is to herself, the van made its way next to Tak, stopping before her on the side of the road.
"Hey, sweetie, are you alright?" Rita asked.
"Eh?" Tak asked.
"You look a little young to be all by yourself out on the road. Do you need some help, honey?" Lynn Sr. asked.
Unsure of the intentions of the Louds, Tak discreetly leaned towards her S.I.R. to seek advice.
"[MiMi, what do these humans want?]" Tak asked.
"[They appear to think you are a helpless child, Master. Perhaps you can make use of them for transportation. I advise feigning vulnerability.]" MiMi answered.
"[Ugh, how demeaning... Fine. Only to get to Zim. I hope my human English is still good.]"
Clearing her throat, Tak reached into long-since unused parts of her language center, answering the concerns of the Louds to her advantage.
"Hello, fellow humans! I am a perfectly normal human girl with no ulterior motives whatsoever, and I have unfortunately been misplaced from my home and must return back as soon as possible. If you are willing to take another passenger, perhaps your powered land vehicle can help me reach my destination. I do beg of your help as I am on a tight schedule." Tak said.
The response is suspicious and would make anyone second-guess any interaction with Tak following her speech, but, to the Loud family, her response is as no more eccentric than anyone else in their family, and the lie is sold completely, with Lynn Sr. and Rita smiling trustingly at her.
"Well, we'd be happy to help out, sweetheart! Come on in!" Rita cheered.
"Yeah, hop on the back of Vanzilla! You can meet all our daughters!" Lynn Sr. cheered.
"Er, I beg your pardon?" Tak asked.
The door to Vanzilla opened, showing the passengers inside being the rest of the Loud family, with all 9 girls staring at Tak with enthusiastic smiles. The only seat available was in the middle of Vanzilla, placing Tak squarely in between all of the Loud children, making another situation that she did not look to with joy.
Imagining herself trapped with strangers, Tak shuddered in disgust, soon swallowing her pride for her mission.
"[I will overcome this. Only to get Zim. Only for victory!]" Tak muttered.
Soon after entering Vanzilla, Tak's next obstacle on the path to Zim was met with obnoxious tests of patience on all fronts, sitting with a perpetual scowl on her face.
Her ears are assaulted with the sounds of anarchic youth in the sisters who occupied the van, screaming and shouting as their young excitement is released all about the back of the car. Lynn Sr. and Rita pay no mind to it, as they are more than familiar with it all...
...but, to Tak, it is tantamount to torture.
Past the shouting and cheering, Lynn threw sports balls at others, many of which hit Tak in the face, Lana made armpit farts, with geniune flatulence assaulting her nose as well as ears, Lisa concocted various chemicals in a series of test tubes, which left a taste of metal and acid in the air, to name but a few of the sensory overloads that Tak was forced to endure.
And, of course, this was apart from all the attention she received from the others, all who pelted her with endless questions and comments.
"Hey, I couldn't help but notice you're wearing stripes. I guess, driving down the highway, that would call them your racing stripes. HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! Get it?" Luan asked.
"I love your clothes. Do you shop at Hot Gothic? I get all my clothes there." Lucy said.
"Or you could ask her if she's got-thic. HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! Get it?"
"What kind of sports do you like? You look like you'd make a good hockey player, you like hockey?" Lynn asked.
"Hockey it to me, baby. HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! Get it?"
"You like KMFDM? Or maybe you're more into Nine Inch Nails or Fear Factory, or maybe even Thrill Kill Kult? Industrial's not my biggest thing, but I like a few guys who do it." Luna said.
"I never would have guessed from your industrial-strength metal! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! Get it?"
"You know, you really should step up your fashion game, mixing pink with purple is so little-kid stuff. You need to either go full pink princess, or maybe go for the deep and mysterious if you have to have the black. Of course, that's to say nothing about that pale complexion of yours, you are in dire need of some makeup." Lola said.
"Give her some lipstick and she can kiss and makeup. HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! Get it?"
"Oh, I can totes help out with fashion, too! I work at Reininger's, I can get you a discount. Personally, I think you'd look great in light gray to start with, or maybe even blue. I can get you some good clothes while Lola gives you a full makeover, it'll be fun!" Leni said.
"Sounds like that clothes the case on your apparel needs. HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! Get it?"
"You sheem to be a bit underweight. Perhapsh you can try shome of my new weight-gain formula and help me get reshultsh. I asshure you, the shide-effectsh of hivesh have been worked out of the forumla." Lisa said.
"Well, you can definitely say she's not a hive-minded person. HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! Get it?"
"That's a cool cat you got there. We got a cat, too, his name's Cliff. He likes to poop everywhere except for the litterbox. Your cat seems real well trained, how do you do it?" Lana asked.
"Easy, she charges him for littering and loitering. HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! Get it?"
"Wanna play pattycakes?" Lily mumbled.
Having had her fill of the sisters' incessant questions and annoying habits, Tak released her discontent for the others with a shout.
"HUMANS! ENOUGH! I DEMAND SILENCE!" Tak screamed.
The outburst of Tak does its job of putting all of Vanzilla quiet, all looking at their guest with appearances of guilt for their wrongdoings. To maintain her disguise and role as a fellow human being, Tak quickly course-corrected her outburst, putting on a fake smile to appease the Louds.
"Uh... Forgive me, I've just been on a very long trip all by myself, and I haven't a chance to relax. I'm not so used to being surrounded by others. Especially very... talkative people." Tak explained.
"Oh, sorry about that, sweetie. As you can see, we're quite a big family, and we're more than used to some noise." Rita said.
"That's right. We aren't the 'Louds' for nothing." Lynn Sr. said.
"'Louds'?" Tak asked.
"Our last name. I'm Lynn, and this is my wife Rita. You've met Leni, Luna, Luan, Lynn Jr., Lucy, Lola, Lana, Lisa, and Lily. What's your name?"
"Uh... My name?"
"You didn't say what your name was." Rita said.
"Oh... I didn't, did I? How foolish of me. Yes, of course. I'm..."
Thinking quickly to ensure her Irken identity would stay a secret, Tak threw forward a reversal of her name to keep all questions off herself.
"...Kat." Tak lied.
"Kat what?" Rita asked.
"Uh... Sakaguchi."
The choice of a last name is less clever and further away from reason, leading to more questions from the Louds, bred from their curiosities.
"Ooh, 'Sakaguchi', is that Japanese?" Lynn Sr. asked.
"Uh, yes, yes, it is." Tak lied.
"Funny, I figured you were British with that accent of yours." Rita said.
"...I'm adopted."
"So, your adopted Japanese parents left you all the way out here in the middle of Michigan, and you have to find them all by yourself on foot?"
"Uh... There was a bit of a mix-up at the airport."
"I'll say. Well, it's a good thing we picked you up, then. Where you headed to?" Lynn Sr. asked.
"Um, where are you heading?"
"To Detroit."
"Oh, well, what a coincidence, that's where I'm going as well."
"Yet another good reason we picked you up."
The moment remains silent between all members of Vanzilla, with none of the sisters repeating their mistake of overstimulating Tak, acting out of consideration. The quiet vibe, however, is one that also breeds fear and suspicion in Tak, who contemplated how to feed her paranoia in close quarters with her enemy.
"[MiMi, they're too quiet. Advice?]" Tak whispered.
"[I advise casual conversation, Master.]" MiMi whispered.
"['Casual conversation'? What the fark is that?]"
"[Ask the humans questions regarding their own agendas. They typically enjoy this for some reason.]"
"[Very well.] Uh, ahem... Might I ask why you and your... large, loud family are driving out here as well?"
"Oh, unfortunately, our son decided to run off on his own with some strangers, and we've got to go pick him up." Rita said.
"You've just one son?"
"Yep. The one and only Lincoln Loud. Impressed?" Lynn Sr. asked.
"Uh... Should I be?"
Tak's question brought shock to the faces of the whole family, surprised to see someone who was not familiar with him or his story.
"You mean you don't know who Lincoln Loud is?" Lynn Sr. asked.
"I'm afraid not." Tak said.
"Have you been living under a rock?"
"No, on another planet. Er-!"
The Freudian slip is seen as but a joke, putting Tak to rest from her mistake.
"Apparently so! Boy, have you been missing out." Lynn Sr. said.
"Now, now, Lynn, honey, you know we shouldn't be playing favorites with the family." Rita said.
"I know, I know, but it's not every family who gets to say your son's a superhero."
The final comment made about Lincoln caught Tak's full and genuine interest, leading her to question it further.
"Wait, I'm sorry... Did you say 'superhero'?" Tak asked.
"That's right. Our son's Ace Savvy, the spade-spangled hero himself." Lynn Sr. said.
"I'm afraid I still don't know who that is."
"Oh, there was this big thing in our little town of Royal Woods a few years ago; these supervillians came in and started robbing the town, and another superhero who used to fight them acted as their gang leader, but Lincoln uncovered it and beat them all. With a little help from all of us, of course."
"Superheroes and supervillains... I believe those come out of comic books, no?"
"Used to be just comic books. There was another guy a few years before that named the Green Eye who started the whole thing of real-life superheroes, people with superpowers fighting supervillains and saving people. Don't tell me you don't know who the Green Eye is, either?"
"No."
"Well, you might get your chance to meet him. See, he came to our door with a few other people like him, and they were trying to recruit him in this fight with an alien named... What was it, honey? Zip? Zap? Zam?" Rita asked.
"Zim." Lynn Sr. corrected.
Hearing the name of her target spoken aloud, Tak's morbid curiosity now turned to a sharpened, direct focus, hungry to know more.
"Did you say... 'Zim'?" Tak asked.
"Yeah, I think that's what it was." Lynn Sr. said.
"And then Lincoln ran off with them to go fight this alien, and supposedly more coming to Earth after that." Rita said.
"Um... Of these others that this Green Eye and whatnot brought along, did you recall who else was with them?" Tak asked.
"Well, there was also a handful of skaters, two of them smoked my husband's kidney stone- Don't ask- Nigel Thornberry and his family, you know, the nature documentary guy on BBC, and a weird guy with a big head and a trenchcoat."
"Oh, that was Dib Membrane, honey. His dad's the big science guy, Professor Membrane." Lynn Sr. said.
"Lynn, I swear, sometimes you sound just as excitable as Lincoln."
"Well, he's the only other man in the house I can relate to. His excitable personality just rubs off on people. Plus, I like Professor Membrane, I've watched some of his podcasts on Joe Rogan."
Ignoring the conversation between the parents, Tak now stood silent and cautious with the new information given to her, aware that more threats awaited her, both familiar and new alike, and would greaten the challenge of getting to Zim. Silence is what she produces for a good few minutes, leaving anxiety and thoughts of preparation in her mind working overtime to account for the task.
The lack of sound is soon noticed by Lynn Sr. and Rita, who snapped her out of her inner thoughts.
"Kat, sweetie? You okay?" Rita asked.
"Oh, yes, fine, fine. Uh... You said this is all happening in Detroit, where you're going, correct?" Tak asked.
"Yes, ma'am." Lynn Sr. said.
"I see. Just, um, making sure for my own safety."
"Oh, don't worry about that, we should be just fine. I'm sure this alien stuff's a whole bunch of baloney."
"Yes, of course."
Once again, silence befalls Vanzilla, and Tak is given more of an incentive to make sure she is not suspected, prompting her to speak again.
"Say, your daughters have been very silent the whole time." Tak said.
"Well, you told us to be quiet. We were trying to be polite." Lana said.
"Yeah. You know how long I've been holding in my farts? That's the lengths I went to be nice." Lynn said.
"Well, uh, you can forget I said that now." Tak said.
In an instant, the sisters all went back to their usual habits, with the cacophony of chaos set off with Lynn's flatulence, most of which was directed in Tak's face.
"Agh! The stench! It's hideous! What the fark did you eat to produce methane of that stench, human?!" Tak groaned.
"About 4 protein bars and a Blue Buffalo energy drink. But that one was from the other hole; you just wait what I'm brewing up next." Lynn said.
Not willing nor able to stand another assault on her senses, Tak lost her patience in an instant, once again yelling for the noise to stop.
"HUMANS, HUMANS! Please... Can we find another way to pass the time?" Tak asked.
"Like what?" Luan asked.
"Well, do you still have music on this planet? I mean, country?"
"Of course, bruv! We gotcha more than covered!" Luna cheered.
"Good, good... Perhaps, then, we can... listen to the radio?"
With the prospect of music brought up, the Louds all lit up in delight, preparing for an alternative to the radio.
"Radio? With the Loud family, we don't need... radio." Lynn Sr. said.
Taking an audio cassette out of the glove compartment, Lynn Sr. placed it into the car stereo, playing a song for the family to hear together.
[Soundtrack Cue: Queen - Bohemian Rhapsody]
Author's Note: The next portion of this chapter uses lyrics from the aforementioned song: 'Bohemian Rhapsody' by Queen, first appearing on their album 'A Night at the Opera' from 1975. The songwriting credits belong to Freddie Mercury, and the distribution rights belong to Universal Music Group and Warner Music Group, through their ownerships of EMI Records and Elektra Records, respectively. No copyright infringement is intended.
The song began at the 3 minute, 5 second mark, starting at the beginning of the operatic portion of the iconic rock song. As the first piano notes began to play, the Louds all began bouncing enthusiastically in their seats, all waiting for their turns to sing, with Lynn Sr. taking the lead.
"I see a little silhouetto of a man..." Lynn Sr. sang.
"Scaramouche, scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?
Thunderbolts and lightning,
Very, very frightening me!" The Louds sang.
Lola and Lana took extra measures to express their notes, each singing their lines in each of Tak's ears.
"Galileo..." Lola sang.
"Galileo..." Lana sang.
"Galileo..."
"Galileo..."
"Galileo, Figaro..." Lucy sang.
"Magnifico... Oh, oh, oh, oh..." Leni, Luna, Luan, and Lynn sang.
"I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me..." Lynn Sr. sang.
"He's just a poor boy from a poor family,
Spare him his life,
From this monstrosity..." The Louds sang.
The few seconds of piano notes gives Tak a small reprieve from the singing, but it is time enough only for her to twitch her eyes in discontent.
"Easy come, easy go,
Will you let me go..." Lynn Sr. sang.
"Bismillah, no, we will not let you go..." The Louds sang.
"Let him go..." Rita sang.
"Bismillah, we will not let you go..."
"Let him go..."
"Bismillah, we will not let you go..."
"Let me go..." Lynn Sr. sang.
"Will not let you go..."
"Let me go..."
"Never let you go..."
"Let me go, ah..."
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no..." Leni, Luna, Luan, Lynn, Lucy, Lana, and Lola sang.
"Oh, mama mia, mama mia..."
"Mama mia, let me go,
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me,
For me,
For ME!" The Louds sang.
The Louds all then began headbanging to the song as the guitar took the front, with Tak remaining abstaining alone from the festivities. Facing the utmost annoyance and frustration with her surroundings, Tak held back her rage with a twitching eyelid and teeth clenched.
"So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye,
So you think you can love me and leave me to die..." Luna sang.
The song continued on with the Louds all continuing to sing along, all while Tak continued to sit and smolder in frustration and annoyance. Biting her lip against the pure rage that was festering in her, a rage brewing from her complete discomfort from the delight of the others, Tak began to reach for her PAK, preparing to retrieve a weapon and end the lives of the Louds.
It would have been an action that would have compromised her disguise, damn the consequences, but her hatred of Zim won out from her new hate of the Louds.
"[It's going to be worth it... It's going to be worth it...]" Tak mumbled.
And so the mantra is repeated all the while, hoping to her own willpower to avoid any premature homicidal tendencies.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
-
Detroit is known for being an impoverished town, with many of its residents renting out low-cost, cheap housing to survive. The choice in housing, in how liberal the word 'choice' applies, ranges from life in a trailer park in a mobile home to houses that border on being derelict, in neighborhoods of unsafe nature.
The destination of the Comvee is in a cul-de-sac of small apartment units, which have been long abandoned and unsold, with the properties becoming condemned and unfit for human housing purposes. There is no sign of life to be had, save for a pair of teenagers on dirtbikes, making fun where they can find it in this abandoned area.
Arriving at their destination at last, the group began disembarking from the Comvee, looking around the area to take in its state for themselves.
"My, my. What we have here is a case of poverty striking the local human population, making this landscape become a waste of space where it could be a wonderful place of community for others to get together." Nigel commented.
"It's been empty for a few years now. Nobody comes around here but kids looking for a playground." Dib said.
"So, which one of these places is this alien of yours in?"
"That one there."
Dib pointed to a small house sandwiched between two apartment units, which displayed bright colors and a small picket fence with grass, contrasting with the dark and faded paint of the surrounding buildings. This itself was not even the most noticeable issue the picture, as several metal tubes and wires reached into the two buildings at its side, something no one would recognize as normal from a human house.
"You serious?" Otto asked.
"Yep. He's been there for years now, making all his evil machinations to enslave mankind, and only I've been able to stop him up until this point." Dib declared.
"No, I mean, like... Seriously? Nobody guessed that some weird shit's up with this house? Nobody from the government came to check this place out or anything?"
"This is Detroit. Everyone's too busy being poor or getting shot at."
"Fair enough."
Fully changing out of his previous clothes provided to him by the Thornberrys, Arnold stepped out of the Comvee with a simple black T-shirt and blue jeans, choosing clothing of little attention or personality in contrast to his normal attire. Looking on the house that Zim built, Arnold narrowed his eyes at it, focusing only on his task of getting inside and finding Curly's remains.
"You clean up nice, man." Twister said.
"It's definitely a step up from those grungy rock shirts and shorts that smell like weed." Arnold said.
"Hey, man, we all need our inspiration for music." Donnie remarked.
"Alright, Dib. We made it to your alien's place. Now what do we do?"
"Uh... I was kind of hoping you would help with that, Mr. Shortman." Dib said.
"What?"
"What? Why did you think you were picked? You were the leader of the Hillwood Heroes for over a year, and single-handedly defended an entire city on your own."
"I don't know anything about this alien or his base."
"But you do know Thaddeus Gammelthorpe and how to lead a team, which is what we need now. I'll advise you to the best of my ability, but it's on you at this point."
Following a sigh of annoyance, Arnold begrudgingly accepted his position, turning back to the team to prepare for the mission.
"Everyone ready up, you've got 5 minutes. Anybody has any special equipment or a special outfit, now's the time to get it out or get it on. We're heading in." Arnold ordered.
Arnold took to the militaristic role with ease, and his authority is respected by his troops just the same. The Rockets took to their suitcases to acquire their hoverboards and gravity-based weaponry, with Sam performing technical checks and last-minute diagnostics to ensure their functionality.
While waiting for the team, Arnold looked back to see Lincoln standing before him, wearing a nervous smile on his face.
"Hi." Lincoln said.
"You don't look like you're getting ready." Arnold said.
"I, uh, have something for you."
"Save it for later."
"You need it now. This is your mission, you need your costume, don't you?"
Squinting his eyes at Lincoln, Arnold inquired on what was implied in his question.
"'My costume'?" Arnold asked.
Hopping off to the Comvee, Lincoln walked back out with a briefcase, walking over to Arnold and presenting it to him.
"Open it! It's yours." Lincoln said.
Skeptically glaring at Lincoln, Arnold opened the briefcase as asked, looking inside to see what the teenage boy was offering him.
He looked inside to see his outfit he worn while he was the Green Eye, looking at it with disbelief as he viewed it. Feeling the fabric and inspecting it, Arnold found blemishes, stains, and tears that only his genuine suit would have, verifying its authenticity and now having an unhappy face while seeing it.
"Where did you get this?" Arnold asked.
"Off MeBay. You wouldn't believe how much this thing cost, or who found it originally. Turns out, it ended up in a trash can somewhere. It took a lot of authenticating, but it's real. It's yours. When I saw this thing pop up, I just knew I had to have it, if only to have a piece of a real hero. Now, I want you to have it again. It'll make us match; we'll both be in costume, and have green eyes. Mine glow green when I'm at half-full power capacity, not like yours, but still. Besides, It's your suit, it belongs to you, and we all want to see you in it again." Lincoln cheered.
Still is his look of discontent put upon his face, with hints of disgust and offense being found underneath the subtext of his stoic frustration. In front of him was a smiling, enthusiastic face, a trace of the future looking up to him, while Nigel and Marianne stood off to the side, smiling as they silently urged on Arnold to take the gift.
But even their kind influence is not enough to sway Arnold, who shut the briefcase and turned away.
"Sorry you wasted your money, kid." Arnold said.
A look of betrayal and shock comes to Lincoln's face after the rejection, with sadness soon coming after. Walking off to retrieve his own costume, a kindly pat from Nigel helped to relieve some of the disappointment he was struck with, and offering hope in exchange.
"Don't think anything of it, lad. He's not there yet. Just hold onto this until he is, and hold onto hope in the meantime." Nigel said.
Not 5 minutes pass when the team readied themselves, all dressing in their respective outfits and acquiring their gear, preparing for the battle that awaited them.
Lincoln is the last to join, having made himself less time to get into his own costume. Once he dressed, he arrived to gain confused looks from the others as he arrived, looking at himself to see what gained their attention. With an absence of 2 years spent between wearing his Ace Savvy outfit, he saw that it had no longer fit, seeing it becoming tight around most of his body.
"What? I went through a growth spurt." Lincoln said.
Anointed as their general into battle, Arnold stood at the ready for a briefing, with all his troops waiting for his lead.
"Alright. Most of us know why we're here. Inside that house is an alien with the intent of taking over the Earth, and he's had many unsuccessful attempts over the years, but he's got the one thing that could possibly make all the difference: The remains of Thaddeus Gammelthorpe. You all know him as The Freak, I knew him as Curly. No one here has had any experience with fighting aliens before, and, with the exception of Sam Dullard and Rocket Power, none of us are at all familiar with their technology. But that doesn't matter in the slightest. What does matter is that there's only one of him, and plenty of us. What matters even more, however, is that he's inexperienced in an actual fight. According to Dib, he's relied mostly on his own wits, what few he has, to get out of a situation unscathed. He's the equivalent of a roach. All of you are experienced in your own ways, but don't let that get the better of you. A professional you can predict; he's been doing what he does for years, and he always has a modus operandi. An amateur will do anything and everything. He's unpredictable. He's more dangerous. And the fact that he's stupid just means he'll do any of it without thinking. That means you have to be prepared for anything, and I mean anything. That's why we're also taking care to make sure everyone keeps in constant communication, and takes things slow. Dullard, your number." Arnold said.
Sam stepped up with a headset device of his own making, displaying it to the group.
"Hi, guys. So, in order to prepare for this whole fight, I came up with a little something to help out. You guys all saw Aliens, right?" Sam asked.
Ever the enthusiastic fanboy, Lincoln raised his hand and waved it, but slowly lowered it and lost his smile when the others looked at him.
"Right. So, you'll remember in the movie, the Colonial Marines had these camera headsets along with their radios, all being watched from the APC. Well, it's not an exact replica, but I made a few similar takes on it with the Thornberrys' video equipment and some scraps I picked up at a hardware store. These things work just like you think; anything you see, the camera sees. Anything you hear, the camera hears. Inside the Comvee is the monitors with all your video feeds, they'll be watched by the Thornberrys and tell us anything worth telling. Everything's set up, you just need to put them on." Sam explained.
Sam handed off the camera headsets to Arnold, Dib, Lincoln, and Rocket Power, who all set them on their heads, adjusting them for comfort.
"This is way too cool." Lincoln said.
Once again does Lincoln get funny looks from the others, but his response comes in the form of a shrug, unable to apologize for his enthusiasm.
"Your top priority is locating Curly's remains. Anything else is completely ancillary. Any time you waste makes the threat all the worse. You wanna waste any time inside exploring or seeing what alien tech there is, you can do that after you find Curly. Not a moment too soon. The only other time I expect to be spent inside before that task is completed is fighting off and/or subduing this alien. Nigel, I'm going to need the elixir now." Arnold said.
"That won't be necessary, lad." Nigel said.
"What? Of course it's necessary, that's what we need to neutralize the threat once and for all. The one reason I came all this way, don't forget."
"That's why I'm going in with you."
The response brings about some surprise from the group, mostly from the Thornberry family themselves.
"Nigel, honey, what are you doing? You can't go in there with them." Marianne argued.
"I made a promise that I'll see to the boy's safety, and I intend to keep it. It's the least I can do for his poor parents. Besides, the chance to see a real-live alien up close and personal? I've seen almost every creature this planet has to offer. What kind of naturalist would I be to pass up an opportunity like this?" Nigel asked.
All the Thornberrys gave a hug to the patriarch of the family, who returned their affection with some of his own endless supply of it.
"You'll be careful, won't you, dad?" Eliza asked.
"Of course, poppet. Not that it matters; I've endured far worse to save your skin more than once, haven't I?" Nigel asked.
"Yeah... I was a big trouble, wasn't I?"
"Not at all, poppet. It was all worth it."
With his temporary, and possibly permanent, goodbye given to his family, Nigel joined with Arnold, giving a nod.
"Alright. Mission is go." Arnold said.
[Soundtrack Cue: Rage Against the Machine - Mic Check]
Just before them is a threat to the entire Earth, waiting inside a house of horrors that held threats and terrors not of this world inside. Of all the threats that lay within, only one is their particular focus, and will make all the difference to the survival of Earth if they neutralize it or not.
United they stand as one, marching off to the house, most adorned in costumes, clothes that expressed themselves a defender of the Earth:
Lincoln, pulling his harlequin mask over his eyes, sunk into his persona of Ace Savvy. The irises of his eyeballs glowed a shade of green not unlike Arnold's, his whole body surging with power. Taking a selection of cards out of his utility belt, Ace Savvy gave them a light charge, soon absorbing the energy back and replacing his cards.
Rocket Power, a family of four, all stood together and proud, brandishing sports equipment modified with Irken technology. The genius of Sam Dullard has unlocked several new possibilities with the alien technology, but only now does he have a chance to face its owner himself. As a member of his family, though, he does not face it alone.
Nigel is the one who does face this threat alone and without his family, but he fights on the behalf of his family. A man of the world who has seen every corner of it and all the life it has to offer, he is no stranger to danger, not even in the face of the one danger from another planet, and it is only his aged appearance that would give any evidence that he was not as vibrant and strong a young man.
Dib has a mind more disjointed and as out-of-place as anyone else, but he knows the threat of Zim personally and well. Their many battles have ended with no victory for either Earth or Irk, keeping this one extraterrestrial threat at bay almost entirely by himself, making it clear even he is a force to be reckoned with.
Arnold is at the forefront, taking the lead with nothing but his bare hands. His body itself is a weapon, making him unreliant on anything to save his own life, but his lack of armaments also shows a brashness and uncaringness that speaks to his current mental state. He does not know if he is going to die or not, having no idea what will happen to him inside the house that Zim built.
But he does not care, so long as he sees the end of The Freak.
Following their leader, the rest of the team seems to be as suicidal as he is, marching off towards uncertain doom without any knowledge of what will wait for them inside. This is the calm before the storm, the first steps on Normandy as they make their way towards the ultimate enemy.
And they are ready for anything.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
But what stops them first is the sound of a phone, ringing in the midst of their march. Their ears all follow the noise to deduce its location, with their eyes following along until they look upon Ace Savvy. Soon realizing that it is him that possessed the ringing phone, he excused himself to settle it.
"Oh, sorry, I gotta take this." Ace Savvy said.
Taking out his phone, Ace Savvy answered it, addressing his agent on the other side in a rushed manner.
"Hey, Ryan, look, now's not a good time, can I- What? What do you mean you couldn't get the contract? You lost it to who?! Are you shitting me?! That guy hasn't been relevant since the 2010s, get with the times! Okay, well, you tell me how many people are gonna know who that is compared to a real-life superhero!" Ace Savvy yelled.
Neither amused or tolerant of the interruption of the phone call, the group all looked to each other in disbelief, then looking at Ace Savvy to urge him off the phone.
"I don't care what you gotta do, you just do it. I can't talk right now. I'm in the middle of something really important. You don't need to know. Yes, you're my agent, but that doesn't mean you need to know everything I do. Do I need your permission to use the bathroom or eat? No, this won't be a scandal, you don't have to worry about anything like that. It's gonna be good for my image, trust me. Listen, I can't talk about this anymore, I really gotta go now. Okay? Okay? Okay. Bye. Bye. BYE!" Ace Savvy yelled.
At last finished with his phone call, Ace Savvy turned its power off, ensuring it would stay silent for the rest of the mission.
"Sorry, I just turned it off. Agents." Ace Savvy said.
Sighing in annoyance, Arnold continued the march forward, putting the team up to the front door of Zim's house. Knowing little of what traps or dangers were set, the team held their weapons high and kept in defensive stances, keeping vigilant eyes all about for anything and everything that could come their way.
"What kind of defenses does your alien have, Dib?" Arnold asked.
"Not a whole lot. He never expects anyone to just barge right in." Dib said.
"What's the best way in?"
Dib demonstrated the answer to this question by ringing the doorbell, with the front door opening quickly after in response. At the door was a pair of robots thinly-disguised as a stereotypical mother and father, with obvious mechanical parts showing all about and barely anything that resembled a real human on their bodies.
"Welcome home, so-" The robot mother and father began to say.
The intended greeting meant for their master ended with the mother glitching at the final word, with her voicebox dying out and her jaw falling on the ground. The father's torso exploded like a rocket, launching the entire upper half of its body into the ceiling, while the lower half rammed into a wall.
Seeing the lack of defenses and defective robot destruct before them, the team's own defenses lowered temporarily in confusion.
"Those were his fake parents, robots meant to pose as his human guardians. As you can see, Zim doesn't take much time to see to their maintenance." Dib said.
"Right." Arnold said.
Stepping through the front door, the team entered Zim's house only to immediately become assaulted at the senses with the stench of decaying fast food, and thousands of fast food and soda packaging laid all across the floor, completely littering it with garbage.
Everyone who entered did so with a groan of disgust right after, with even Arnold softly cringing as he covered his nose.
"Jesus! Doesn't this thing ever clean up?" Sam asked.
"He's never been this messy before. He must be getting pretty desperate at this point, stopped caring about basic maintenance. No wonder he wanted to merge himself with The Freak and get his powers." Dib said.
"Then we've got no time to lose. Split up and cover more ground. Nigel, you're with me. Reggie, you're with Lincoln. Sam, with Twister. Otto, with Dib. Leave no stone unturned. Keep talking over the mikes over 30-second intervals." Arnold ordered.
Splitting into their respective groups, the team began taking to different areas of the house, inspecting every corner they could to find their target.
-
Inside the Comvee, the Thornberry family anxiously sat by the video monitors, viewing all video feeds that came through from those inside Zim's house. Marianne is the one who operates the video monitors, and carefully watches all feeds, each labeled with masking tape and markers to their respective wearers, to see anything noteworthy in the house.
The Thornberry children are all directly behind her, each watching the monitors with the matriarch of the family, and listening to all conversation taking place within.
"I'm getting the idea that the alien's not home. You guys think we oughtta trash his place, send him a message to get off our planet?" Otto asked.
"Otto, I don't think he's gonna get that message." Sam said.
"I agree. Violence is a universal language, but, with the condition this place is in, how poorly kept it is, I think any damage done here might mean nothing to him. Perhaps the alien has a communal sort of view of to his belongings, not unlike the Native Americans, but with far less respect for his surroundings." Nigel asked.
"Or maybe he's just a slob. I can speak from experience from some people in my life." Reggie joked.
"Hey, that's not fair. I cleaned up my old house." Otto said.
"No, Tito and I cleaned it up for you. And don't get me started on your room back home."
"Cut the personal noise. We're here to do a job. Marianne, you see anything we didn't yet?" Arnold asked.
"Nope. The kids and I are all here watching. When we see something, we'll let you know." Marianne said.
"Good. Keep at it."
-
Inside the kitchen, Reggie and Ace Savvy began inspecting the eatery, seeing any signs of life or anything unusual to the human eye. All that particularly stuck out to the group was a poster on the wall which read 'I EAT FOOD', with a hungry-looking face salivating at the mouth.
"This alien's got a strange sense of decoration. Everything looks like it's trying too hard to seem normal, minus all the bright colors. It's so over-the-top in its attempts to look normal that it comes back around to just being fishy." Reggie said.
"That's the Irken mind for you. They try to assimilate into any culture or species they mean to invade, becoming just like one of you, and you don't notice until it's too late." Dib explained.
"What's with all the weird colors, anyway? Bright teal and pink? Unless he got his color scheme from Miami Vice, I'm not seeing the reason."
"Pink's one of the few colors that technically doesn't exist. We just perceive it because our brains make it a placeholder for what the actual color there is. It's possible these things could have eyesight entirely different from ours." Sam explained.
Taking a look through the cupboards, Ace Savvy found several boxes of waffle mix, taking out one box to inspect it.
"Well, this alien sure loves his waffles. There's a whole stockpile of waffle mix in here to feed my family for a week." Ace Savvy said.
-
The duo of Sam and Twister made their way to the bathroom, inspecting around the lavatory to see anything worth noting. Their observations are much the same, finding little to speak of, and even less to say on the task of finding either Zim or the remains of The Freak.
"We're in the bathroom. Nothing so far." Sam said.
Twister's end of the inspection brought him to the toilet, lifting the lid to look inside.
"Yeah. The toilet doesn't even look used. For all the waffles this thing allegedly eats, it doesn't look like it craps at all." Twister said.
"Twister, what are you doing?" Sam asked.
"Looking for stuff."
"In the toilet?"
"Yeah, why not?"
"Because how much stuff can you fit in a toilet?"
"You obviously haven't lived with Otto long enough."
Disgusted and annoyed with Twister's response, Sam shook his head.
"Seriously, though. Aliens probably don't have toilets on their planets. Maybe it copied a toilet as a means of hiding a secret." Twister said.
"Twister. This thing eats. Therefore, it shits. Maybe it doesn't shit like we do, but it definitely produces bodily waste of some kind if it can eat our food." Sam argued.
"I don't." Ace Savvy added.
"You've got superpowers, Lincoln. This alien doesn't. Yet. If these creatures are smart enough to cross entire galaxies and create fake houses and disguise themselves as humans, then they should be smart enough to have some form of waste disposal."
"If you two are done arguing over whether or not aliens use toilets, we have more important things to take care of." Arnold interrupted.
"Yeah, I know, dude, we're finding your friend's body and stuff. I'm looking." Twister retorted.
"First, he wasn't my 'friend'. Second, a human body cannot fit inside a toilet. Stop wasting time and move on."
"But-"
"Now."
Disheartened by Arnold's angered response, Twister abandoned his investigation of the toilet, moving out of the bathroom with Sam.
-
Otto and Dib are a match that could not be further apart; one is a fanatic of extreme sports, the other is a paranoid conspiracy theorist, with personalities and lifestyles all too dissimilar for either to find common ground with. But finding familiarity is not their goal, and, to the extent either have any common ground, it is that of a common enemy.
Their search brings them to the halls of the house, checking in the closets for anything stashed inside them, or a means of finding the rest of Zim's base. They found success in neither so far, finding only empty closets, with the occasional foodstuffs stashed in them.
Said foodstuffs, however, were not storaged properly and had undergone serious decomposition, making both Otto and Dib react in disgust.
"This Zim guy sure doesn't have the best grip on how to use food. There's a lot of rotting food shoved in the closets, like he forgot it was there." Otto said.
"You, of all people, shouldn't be surprised by that." Reggie joked.
"Oh, ha-ha. I never leave this much food lying around."
"No, Zim eats for sure, I've seen it. I've got several minutes filmed of him eating waffles with his robot slave." Dib said.
"You've been stalking this guy for years, and all you filmed of him is him eating waffles?"
"Zim's very elusive. I haven't even been this far into his base before, much less gotten to search it."
"But none of us are any closer to finding Curly." Arnold added.
"This doesn't add up. He's had plenty of machines and technology he's used over the years, none of it's anywhere to be found. He's kept it all hidden better than I thought."
-
The search continues up the stairs of the house, reaching the attic. Those who traverse it are Arnold and Nigel, looking around for any trace of the alien named Zim as the others do. Where the others find little to no luck in finding anything even remotely connected to Zim or the Irken Empire, they make a discovery of an Irken ship in the attic, marking the first sign of alien life in the house.
Having already seen Tak's ship stored out in Ocean Shores, this one is less of a shock when they see it, and report on it immediately.
"Marianne, dear, you getting this? Looks like we've found another Irken ship." Nigel said.
"That's great, Nigel, we've got it on video. I only wish I had it on camera myself." Marianne said.
"Oh, you'll get your chance, dearie. Just imagine it: Nigel Thornberry's Wild World, a special episode focused on alien life, the first of its kind. I can tell you, the BBC won't just be having Planet Earth in their filmography, Planet Irk is going to be next in production in no time."
Uninterested in the business affairs of Nigel Thornberry, and his family, Arnold interrupted to recenter the focus on his goal.
"There's still no sign of Curly. We need to keep searching." Arnold ordered.
-
Just as confused as Arnold, the Thornberrys left behind in the Comvee scanned about on the display screens, looking through the various video feeds to see if anything was missed. Their ears were just as busy as their eyes in the search, listening to the arguments of the team while they were inside.
"Search where? I don't know how to break it to you, dude, but we've searched every corner of this house. There's no sign of The Freak or Zim anywhere." Sam said.
"There must be somewhere else to this base, someplace we're not seeing." Dib said.
"Where? There's no place else in the house to search. There's nowhere else to search." Reggie said.
"Maybe there's some kind of secret entrance to another part of the base." Twister suggested.
"Where do you hide something like that? We've been wall-to-wall in the house." Otto said.
"Dib said these things are like bugs, right? Maybe it's underground, like in Invaders From Mars. The Martians had a big underground base, sort of like an ant hive." Ace Savvy suggested.
"Okay, I'll buy that. Where would a secret entrance to an underground base be hidden?" Arnold asked.
Silence followed on the radio, with an annoyed sigh from Arnold coming soon after to break it.
"Don't everyone speak at once." Arnold snarked.
"Well, sorry, dude. We checked everywhere. I guess we're just missing something." Otto said.
"Maybe it's in the toilet." Twister said.
"Come on, Twister, not with that again." Sam sighed.
As the debate continued between the team, Donnie, getting bored from the frustration and lack of solution to the issue, turned his attention out the window, looking for something else to catch his attention. Besides the two teenagers on dirtbikes, nothing else had been worthy of his time to view...
...until what appeared to be a short homeless man and a green dog began walking towards the house, the sight becoming peculiar enough to question aloud.
"Hey, there's a homeless guy with and a dog coming this way. That have anything to do with the guys?" Donnie asked.
The Thornberrys looked out the window to see the same subject mentioned, with Marianne taking to the microphone to inform the group of the approaching figure.
"Team, team, we've got someone approaching the house. The subject is a homeless man with a dog." Marianne said.
"That sounds like Zim, what else can you see?" Dib asked.
"He looks to have green skin, and the dog is... Uh... Well, it looks more like a small child in a green hoodie meant to look like a dog."
"That's definitely Zim! He's on his way back!"
-
All ears listened with caution and fear as the news came, but Arnold responded with a cool head and cooler voice, ready to move into action.
"Everybody get to the front door. We're going to capture this alien of yours with his pants down." Arnold ordered.
"Hold it, Arnold. We don't know if he's even gotten to The Freak or not. He could be dangerous at this point, even if he hasn't." Dib warned.
"This is what you brought me for, big-head. Now's the time when I get into action. Everyone get to the front door, now!"
Rushing downstairs with Nigel directly behind him, Arnold met back with the rest of the team, all holding their weapons in anticipation as the alien moved closer. Requiring his own weapon, Arnold pulled out from his pants his staff, last converted to a three-section staff, and began swinging one end like a nunchuck.
"How do we do this? Bum-rush him?" Otto asked.
"Pretty much. It's 8 against 1." Arnold said.
"2. His robot slave's with him." Dib corrected.
"Still good odds. Once he gets in, let him let his guard down. That's when we strike."
"You have no idea how cool this moment is to me, guys. This is so awesome." Ace Savvy said.
"Celebrate later. Focus. Don't strike until you see the whites of his eyes... or whatever color they are."
"Red. They're white in his disguise." Dib corrected.
"Whatever. Here he comes."
Watching the door to the house turn, the door slowly began to open with it, making the first promise of the sight of the alien named Zim. All members of the team grabbed their weapons tighter, their eyes sharpening from the sheer adrenaline of the moment. They came ready for war, and now it comes to them.
The door opened further, and sunlight began to spill into the house. With the alien threat standing in the doorway, all but a silhouette could be seen, giving one only the slightest impression of the alien. Taking off his brown trenchcoat and hat, along with the fake beard on his face, Zim also deactivated his human disguise, believing it no longer necessary.
With the exception of Dib, this opened up the mysteries in the minds of the team as to what the threat looked like, envisioning the most horrid and terrifying creature that only the blackness of space could give birth to. Tensions build high within the team, but still do all the fighters wait at the ready, awaiting the final command of their captain.
Once the door began to close, the order came.
"ATTACK!" Arnold shouted.
All screaming in righteous fury, the team ran forward with their weapons high, all preparing to lay the first strike on the alien menace. Primal instincts for battle take over the entirety of their minds, with only the reptilian instinct to kill and conquer becoming their entire thought process.
But reason and logic all take center again as the alien threat screamed right back, cowardly raising his arms and closing his eyes in fear.
The response from the alien is not only what stops the team from advancing forward further, but also the full sight of Zim that they at last received. Their expectations were of a snarling, threatening extraterrestrial beast that invoked images of death and destruction from its very appearance...
...but what they saw was merely a large green bug dressed in red, appearing more like a 12-year old boy, and just as threatening.
Once the team stopped in confusion, the group all merely stared at Zim, all collectively sharing disappointment upon seeing him. After opening his own eyes, seeing the humans formerly posed to attack him merely standing in front of him, Zim stood up straight in confidence, facing them back in pride.
"Ha-ha! Now you see the folly of attempting a frontal assault the one and only, the mighty ZIM! Now, pathetic Earthlings, KNEEL BEFORE ZIM!" Zim shouted.
Neither the high-pitched voice nor words coming from Zim did anything to change the team's mind from his threat level, with Twister even becoming amused by him.
"Aw! It's adorable!" Twister swooned.
"'Adorable'?! HOW DARE YOU! I am a high-ranking Irken Invader on a secret mission on behalf of the Tallest! SPEAK TO ME WITH RESPECT!" Zim yelled.
Still finding amusement out of Zim's demeanor, Twister knelt before him, clutching his own cheeks as his smile widened.
"It's like an angry little cockroach, but cuter! Can we keep him, you guys?" Twister asked.
The only reaction different from the team besides Twister is Dib, who frantically pleaded the team to continue the attack.
"What are you guys doing?! He's right there! Get him! He'll kill us all!" Dib shouted.
"Oh, hey, Dib. You've gotten taller." Zim said.
"Don't 'Oh, hey, Dib' me, Zim! I know what you are! I know what you're responsible for!"
"What are all these strange humans doing in my house?"
"They're only the greatest team of super-heroes that I alone assembled here to destroy you! Your days are numbered, Zim! Your reign of terror ends here!"
As the supposedly dramatic confrontation between Zim and Dib continued, the rest of the team looked to each other with confusion and disappointment. None had any true interest in the shouting match taking place, but found morbidly amusing enough to merely stand by and keep watching.
"Super-heroes? Well, that's a new one from you, I admit. BUT IT MEANS NOTHING! NOTHING! YOUR PLAN HAS FAILED!" Zim yelled.
"Not if I can help it, Zim! It's not over until the fat lady sings! I've already seen how desperate you've gotten! Just look at how disheveled and chaotic your own base has become! Your inner turmoil and knowledge of your fate has led you to insanity!" Dib yelled.
Zim looked about the house to see Dib's point, nonplussed by the comment.
"Oh, that? That was all GIR." Zim said.
"I made a big mess! I had a party all by myself!" GIR shouted.
"Oh." Dib said.
Annoyed with the inane arguments taking place between the two, Arnold stepped forward and picked Zim up by the neck as one would a chicken.
"AGH! LET ME GO, HUMAN! I AM NOT YOUR PLAYTHING!" Zim shouted.
"I'm only gonna ask you this one, asshole. Where is Curly?" Arnold asked.
"Who the fark is Curly?!"
"You know who he is. He died in Hillwood. You took his body here. You merged with it somehow. I want his remains."
"I don't have a das't clue what you're talking about! I was just out taking GIR for a walk!"
GIR interrupted the argument by rolling in the trash of used fast food wrappers, making incessant babbling noises as he did.
"Amburgers and wootbeer... Amburgers and wootbeer... Amburgers, amburgers, amburgers..." GIR babbled.
"Listen, shithead, I've had enough of-" Arnold growled.
"Wait! The whole thing where he merges with The Freak, that's part of a possible future, right?" Ace Savvy asked.
"...Yeah?"
"Could we have just showed up before he got the body?"
Taking one last look at Zim, Arnold dropped him on the ground, leaving him to cough and catch his breath.
"Maybe we did. So I guess that settles that alternate future altogether." Arnold said.
"So we won? That was all kind of easy, don't you think?" Otto asked.
"Not yet. We need to make sure that he can't possibly merge with Curly in the future. Whatever device he used to do it, we have to find it and destroy it."
"You sure he's even gonna be a threat? He's a puny little idiot." Reggie said.
"So was Adolf Hitler."
"Dude. Straight to the Hitler comparisons?" Twister asked.
"My grandfather fought in World War Two, and I personally fought Neo-Nazis in Hellwood, so, yes, I'm going straight to the Hitler comparisons. I've seen firsthand how it's warranted."
Twister cringed in embarrassment following the answer to his question, nodding in shame.
"...Right." Twister said.
"We still don't know where the rest of his base is. He's gotta tell us." Ace Savvy said.
"I will tell you nothing, stupid humans! You will never find my secret underground base! NEVER!" Zim shouted.
"We never said it was underground, dickhead." Otto said.
Zim cringed in annoyance as he accidentally revealed a clue regarding the location of his base, groaning in embarrassment.
"...Das't it." Zim swore.
"Well, I was right about it being underground. We just gotta figure out how to get there." Ace Savvy said.
"We still haven't checked the toilet." Twister said.
"Twister, c'mon, man-" Sam groaned.
"Guys, guys! We've got more problems!" Eliza called.
"What is it now?" Arnold asked.
-
Within the Comvee, the Thornberrys got the first sight of the newest development outside Zim's base, finding a minivan affectionately known as Vanzilla arriving in its cul-de-sac. Disembarking from Vanzilla were all the members of the Loud Family, with the parents wearing frustrated faces, all marching towards the house.
"It's Lincoln's family. They caught up with us." Eliza said.
"What?! How the hell did they know where to find us?!" Ace Savvy asked.
"Must be parents' intuition. I know Marianne and I've got it for our own children." Nigel said.
"Oh, man, I can't begin to tell you how grounded I am."
"Well, once your family sees just how much a non-threat the alien really was, your parents and all 11 of your sisters can get a laugh out of the whole thing." Eliza said.
"Yeah, I guess- Wait a minute, did you say 11 sisters?"
"Yeah. I see all of them coming."
"Is one of them tall and blonde, wears a blue tank top, looking at her phone?"
"Uh... no."
"My 11th sister's Lori. She's off at college. Who's the 11th girl you see?"
"Uh... She's very pale, dressed kind of gothic."
"You mean Lucy? The one dressed in black?"
"No, she's dressed in purple."
"Oh, that's Luna. She's my third-eldest sister."
"No, she looks to be about 12 or so."
-
Inside the house, Lincoln stood in confusion as he failed to piece the description into something that made sense, failing to recognize the girl by her description.
"But... I don't have a sister who looks like that." Ace Savvy said.
Then, a knock at the door came, with GIR standing up to attention to answer it.
"I'LL GET IT!" GIR screamed.
Running up to the door in his crude dog disguise, GIR opened it, answering it to the sight of Lynn Sr. and Rita Loud standing outside it.
"Ngyello." GIR greeted.
"Hi, would you happen to know where we can find- Lincoln!" Rita shouted.
Rita's own question was answered as she saw her son standing in the living room of Zim's base, marching inside to confront his truant departure. Her entry rudely stepped past GIR with her husband following, and the army of sisters running in behind them, knocking GIR into a pile of fast food packaging.
Forced to confront his angry parents, Ace Savvy removed his mask and lowered his head, sighing as he resumed the identity of Lincoln Loud.
"Lincoln Albert Loud!" Rita scolded.
"Ugh... Mom, you're embarrassing me in front of the guys!" Lincoln groaned.
"Oh, embarrassment's the last thing you should worry about, young man. Your father and I explicitly told you that you were not allowed to go off with these strangers!"
"Mom, it's okay, it's the Green Eye, he's the biggest superhero ever! You can trust him!"
"I don't care how big a superhero he is, you deliberately disobeyed me! What if you were hurt by this alien?"
"It's okay, Mom, the alien's a total loser, just look at him! He couldn't harm a fly!"
"How dare you, puny human! You will show respect to-" Zim began to say.
"ZIM!" A voice shouted.
The fight between mother and son is interrupted by a feminine voice among the Louds, but from the one who was not part of the family. The sisters all parted as though they were a living Red Sea, giving way for the owner of the voice to step forward, presenting herself with a crazed, vengeful scowl.
As her eyes sharpened with a delirious smile, a purple streak ran across her eyes, locked onto her sole target.
"Now what?" Otto asked.
"You remember when I said the owner of the ship you guys took is gone?" Dib asked.
"Let me guess: That's her?"
"Yep. That's Tak."
"Correct you are, Dib. I can't say it's nice to meet you again. Though I don't remember you being so... tall." Tak said.
"You've been gone a few years. Since you tried to drain out the Earth's magma and fill it up with snacks to appease the Tallest."
"Yes, before you and Zim formed your alliance to stop me. But don't worry, I'm not mad about that. Now, I'm here for the one responsible for my current position in the first place. Zim! Look upon the face of vengeance! Know me! Recognize me! Know that your doom has come for you!"
Zim merely stood and stared at Tak with a near total lack of response, blankly staring before blinking.
"I'm sorry, who are you again?" Zim asked.
Zim's near-bored response elicited more extreme anger from Tak, resorting to yelling louder to answer his question.
"What do you mean, you don't remember me?! I'm the one who destroyed your base! Who nearly beat you at destroying the Earth! Who almost won back favor from the Tallest! AND YOU TOOK EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME!" Tak shouted.
Once again does Zim show no apparent reaction, but soon sparked up in excitement as a thought crossed his mind.
"Oh! Tak! Now I remember!" Zim cheered.
"Yes! YES! Now you know who it was who you wronged and came back to bring you your ultimate-" Tak began to say.
"Nope, sorry, still don't remember."
Further enraged by Zim's failure to recognize her and his own apathetic response, Tak began growling as she scowled at him.
Once again does not the drama between the familiar parties of Dib, Zim, and Tak gain the interest of the group assembled to deal with them, and only gain bored, pedestrian responses from the years-old hatreds and rivalries. Still does the greater threat of The Freak's remains take precedence, and Arnold once again assumed command.
"Alright, I've had enough of this. Grab the aliens and restrain them. They're going to tell us how to get into this base, one way or the other." Arnold ordered.
Acting on his orders, the team leisurely began apprehending the Irkens, not perceiving either as an imminent threat. This approach allowed Zim to be held with ease by Sam, and only small struggles put up against his hold. Twister, approaching Tak with just as much leisure, reached out and grabbed one of her arms...
...leading Tak to chop him in the elbow, knocking his arm away and making him lose his grip. Though greatly shorter than him, her height resembling that of a preteen, Tak still reached up to Twister's face with a punch, striking him in the nose and making him grasp his face in pain.
Before any could react to the sudden and coordinated attack from the supposed non-threat, Tak jumped into the air, landing a sharp and focused kick sent right to Twister's face. The impact of the kick sufficiently taxed his cognitive abilities to make him fall to the ground, leaving one enemy out of her way.
Then, the team placed their focus entirely on her.
[Soundtrack Cue: Lords of Acid - Spacy Bitch; Starting from 0:30]
Leaping over Twister's befallen body, escaping the reach of the others, four spider-like legs sprouted from Tak's backpack, enabling her to cling to a wall as she landed on it. Crawling across the wall, she once again evaded the incoming fighters, positioning herself to jump off it and strike back.
Retracting her metallic arms into her backpack as she leapt off the wall, she launched herself towards her next opponent, making Lynn Sr. her next target.
"I've got her, I've got he-!" Lynn Sr. called.
Seemingly jumping into Lynn Sr.'s arms, Tak struck him in the face with a kick as she jumped towards him, knocking him to the ground with a single blow. All scrambling to catch the runaway alien, and rallying around their fallen father, the Loud family coalesced towards Tak, forced to join in the battle.
Tak, having been trapped in a car with the family, saw the moment as a perfect chance to retaliate against their obnoxious habits, smiling before she attacked.
Rita is the next to come up to try to catch Tak, but she is only the next to go with another kick to the face.
Leni stepped in next to try to swipe Tak, only to have the alien land on her shoulders and land a headbutt on her.
Luna stepped up next, only for Tak to run up, jump over her head, and acrobatically spin and kick Luna in the back of her head.
Luan attempted a different approach by firing a squirting flower at her, only for Tak to slide between her legs and kick her in the crotch.
Lynn came up next with her own kicks, putting both in a temporary kickboxing match, and ending with Tak catching Lynn's leg and striking her knee.
Lucy stood next in Tak's way, but chose to play dead and laid on the floor. Tak merely stopped and questioned her action for a split-second, but resumed after.
Lana and Lola ran up next in a team effort, but Tak stopped the twins by grabbing their heads and bashing them together, taking both out for the count.
Lisa became the last target in Tak's way, but her approach was instead to bow down and surrender.
"No! Don't hit me! I welcome our new alien overlordsh!" Lisa pleaded.
Unamused by Lisa's pleas, Tak merely pushed her to the side, having a seemingly clear path to the door...
...until Arnold jumped forward and took a fighting stance, preventing Tak from making her escape. Resorting to her telepathic implant to save her any conflict with a more experienced fighter, recognizing his threat level from the respect he gained from the others, Tak issued an order for him to move.
"Step aside." Tak ordered.
The command followed with a purple streak of light made across her eyes, but it had no effect on Arnold, who stood his ground, replying in his own telepathic manner.
Make me. Arnold replied telepathically.
Not expecting the medium in which Arnold replied in, Tak dismissed the shock and jumped up to throw three kicks, only for Arnold to swat away all of them. Once again does Tak try for kicks, targeting her strikes towards Arnold's legs and knees, but he raised one to deflect her kicks away, throwing some of his own in response.
With an opponent taller than herself, Tak was forced to make use of her hands to swat away Arnold's kicks, backing further away from her destination.
Jumping up to throw a kick to his face, Tak's attack was cut short as Arnold grabbed the incoming leg, keeping his hold on it as he held her upside-down. Unable to make use of her arms or feet, Tak helplessly struggled against Arnold's hold, growling in frustration as she was seemingly defeated.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
"No! NO! NO! Grrr, let go, let go!" Tak yelled.
"Nimble little minx, isn't she?" Otto joked.
"Quite the athletic abilities. She might just outmatch the members of the Galagidae family." Nigel commented.
"And I thought goths were all out of shape." Twister joked.
"You'd be surprised. Lucy's got a grip like iron." Ace Savvy said.
"I do. My wrists are pretty strong, too." Lucy added.
"And her wrists are- Wait, what?"
"MiMi! Self-destruct!" Tak ordered.
Initial confusion and fear alike come to all present with the threat of destruction, looking for the origin of events that Tak set into motion. Their eyes went to the 'cat' named MiMi, who shed her disguise to reveal her true self as a modified Irken S.I.R. unit, with its eyes lighting up red as it prepared to follow its order.
"YES, MASTER, I OBEY. COMMENCING SELF-DESTRUCT IN 3... 2-" MiMi began to say.
Prior to their departure from Earth, Tak and MiMi have faced Zim and his own robotic assistant, GIR, facing defeat at their hands. One of the ways in which they accomplished their victory was by having GIR overtake the body of MiMi, temporarily implanting his personality within her.
Though this persona has come up in sporadic events, it has never truly interfered with her ability to obey her master, until now. With her eyes lighting up blue, the idiotic traits of GIR settled in, with MiMi beginning to droop to the floor and lean her head to the side, babbling incoherently as she did.
"Tico-Taco-Tico-Taco... Tacos are good and happy like a big happy kitty cat..." MiMi babbled.
"Fark it all! Not now! Obey me, you das't piece of junk!" Tak yelled.
To add insult to injury, MiMi completely lost all track of time and space as she laid eyes on GIR, seeing him continue to roll about in fast food wrappers. Her stare is one of complete enamoration, unable to focus on the entire rest of the world around, and no thoughts besides the hopes that her feelings would be returned.
One glance at MiMi is all GIR took in the midst of his play, but that one glance alone is enough to make him look twice and take his attention off his fun. His stare is just as intense and as borderline awkward as MiMi's is, making it clear that they both share the same feelings, and almost no words are needed between them.
Stepping forward to face the other, they share their words anyway.
"Hello." GIR said.
"Hello." MiMi said.
"I love you."
"I love you."
Then, in defiance of all decency and decorum, GIR and MiMi began kissing, grinding their metal mouths together and spraying oil spittle all about the room, making heavy use of their tongues as their artificial tasting organs began wrestling with one another, both dominating for control in the manner of two quadriplegic toddlers fighting over a cookie.
The display completely appalled the entirety of the room, all cringing and groaning in disgust as they witnessed the horrors committed before them.
"Oh, my Tallest, that is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my life!" Zim yelled.
"TRAITOR!" Tak yelled.
Cursing her former robot slave, Tak laid a hand on the floor, positioning herself to balance herself and kick Arnold in the face with her free leg, making use of the temporary distraction GIR and MiMi posed to him. Finally free of his grip, Tak made a run for the front door, bolting outside without a second thought.
"GIR! Escape!" Zim called.
Running up the stairs to his ship, Zim made his own escape with GIR and MiMi following closely behind, leaving the team split on two separate targets.
"You take that one, I'll take this one!" Arnold ordered.
The team rushed up the stairs after Zim at Arnold's command as their own commander chased after the second runaway alien, merely nipping at the heels of Zim and his now two robot companions. Having had just a few seconds' advantage in his run, this is all Zim required to make his escape, entering his ship.
Upon stepping in his ship, the roof to the house opened, clearing the way for him to take off. With no time to waste, Zim blasted his ship off to the sky, flying as far away from his own base as he could. Within the back window of the ship, GIR and MiMi could barely be seen kissing, with the words 'JUST MARRIED' hastily spraypainted in the back.
Grunting in frustration, Otto angrily contacted Arnold over their cameras, updating him on the mission.
"We lost Zim, he just took off." Otto said.
On the ground, Arnold received a sight of the ship in flight as well, scowling at the failure he and his team faced.
"I can get the other one. We'll get her to tell us how to get in the base." Arnold said.
Continuing to chase after Tak, Arnold witnessed her running towards the two teenage boys running their dirtbikes. Taking advantage of their attention being put towards the flying Irken ship, Tak booted one of the teenage boys off his bike, driving it at full speed to where a wheelie was popped as she ran it.
Understandably, neither boy took to the theft with joy, shouting their anger at Arnold as he approached.
"Hey, did you see that shit?! That little goth bitch just stoke our bike!" One boy said.
"Yeah. And I just stole yours." Arnold said.
Shoving the second boy aside, Arnold commandeered his dirtbike to drive after Tak, leaving both teenage boys without their bikes, and even greater anger.
Back on the rooftop of Zim's base, the altercation and double bike theft was witnessed by the rest of the team, with Arnold calling back to them.
"I'm chasing down the second alien. Get back in the Comvee and try to catch up." Arnold said.
"Arnold, lad, there's at least 7,000 roads in Detroit! How on Earth are we supposed to follow you through this city?" Nigel asked.
"Follow the car crashes."
-
[Soundtrack Cue: Megadeth - Insomnia (Jeff Balding Mix)]
Once the automotive industry hub of the United States, Detroit was once christened the name of 'Motor City' for its abundance of jobs in manufacturing for vehicles to be used domestically and exported alike. Though crime and poverty does the city no good, especially with outsourcing and great competition coming from abroad, Detroit still retains its nickname and its pride all the same.
Down the highways of the city, however, it earns its name of 'Motor City' once again, but now for the sounds of two particular motors running at full powers in a high-speed chase. One is occupied by Arnold Shortman, formerly known as the Green Eye, and the other by his target, an alien Irken named Tak.
Making use of dirtbikes commandeered from a pair of teenage boys, their choice of vehicles are small, but more than enough to send them across large swaths of the city in seconds. Tak makes use of her bike's power in the hopes that she can escape the chase of the humans now aware of her existence, but Arnold keeps at her heels with his own commandeered bike, making her escape a challenge.
Traffic is as moderately heavy as one can expect on a weekday in Detroit, but this proves to be no impediment to the two racing down the highways. Moving and swerving through lanes and between the cars occupying it, receiving various angry remarks and the frequent use of car horns, none of the reactions of the other drivers on the highway proved to be an impediment towards their chase.
Several cars they pass by, all stuck in a traffic jam, but Arnold and Tak come out of the other side in no time, coming to more moderate traffic and more maneuverability. This more open environment proves itself more suitable for a fight, and the two begin to turn their chase into a battle as well.
Increasing the speed on his bike, Arnold rammed it against the back of Tak's own dirtbike. The impact caused Tak to jolt, making her look back to see Arnold attempting the same rear-end attack once again, prompting her to swerve her bike away to avoid his second attempt.
Swerving back after her, Arnold drove his way through several other cars on the road, maneuvering through other drivers just as unpredictable as his target to preserve himself and make his way towards his target. The challenge is resolved as swiftly as it came, and once again do Arnold and Tak meet at close quarters.
This time, Arnold is clever enough to make his way to Tak's side, much to her surprise as he appeared beside her. Each spare an arm away from the handlebars of their dirtbikes, punching and grabbing at each other, all while trying to deflect the other's attacks and keep themselves balanced.
The latter challenge is what prompts them to put a temporary reprieve on their hand-to-hand combat, and the incoming obstacles of new cars also forces them to maneuver through traffic once again. Car after car they swerve past, all while trying to maintain the chase on one another.
Once again do they meet side-to-side, and the fight between the two continues. With only a single arm to spare and half of their attention spans to dedicate towards the other, the task of trying to fight or defend from the other is next to impossible, but dedication and necessity make their efforts all the greater.
-
As the chase continued on, the Comvee followed down the highways of Detroit, attempting to catch up with the alien and her pursuer. The task of finding two small dirtbikes across several roads of a large metropolitan city invokes the cliché of finding not one, but two needles in a haystack, all while attempting driving fast down a road expecting its drivers to keep below a high speed limit.
The Comvee is also obviously much bigger than a pair of dirtbikes, and is much harder to maneuver through traffic. Nonetheless, Marianne Thornberry, having driven the vehicle for over two decades' worth of documentary work, trekking through the most extreme weather conditions and toughest terrains across the globe, finds the roads of Detroit less than a trial.
Her attitude towards the task, however, is more than befitting of a typical driver during this time of day.
"Hey, where'd you learn to drive, you crazy bitch?!" An angry driver shouted.
"Through every single terrain this planet has to offer, including through active volcanoes and hurricanes, you wannabe Daytona 500 punk!" Marianne yelled.
"Er, Marianne, dear, let's not provoke the other drivers on the road. You never know what they might do in retaliation in this part of the world." Nigel warned.
"What's that supposed to mean? Because they're black, you expect them to shoot at us?" Reggie asked.
"Wh-What? No, no, not at all, I-"
"Yeah, dude. There was kind of an implication of racism in there. An area of the United States with a huge black population? And you just assume they're gonna attack us?" Otto asked.
"Of course not! Come on, my boy, I've known plenty of black fellows throughout my career, from the Aboriginals to the Bushmen! I'm not a racist!"
"That's what a racist would say." Reggie said.
"Can it back there! We've got an alien to catch!" Marianne called.
A car had pulled up in front of the Comvee coming in from a highway ramp, but Marianne refused to slow the vehicle to allow the car to enter the lane, violating a basic traffic rule to yield. As a result, the front of the incoming car was smashed by the Comvee, with the sound of a horn preceding the loud crashing of metal.
Only a scuff of paint is all the Comvee suffered, but Nigel's own mental state began to suffer worse.
"Good god, Marianne! The BBC's insurance won't cover that!" Nigel shouted.
"They can bill us!" Marianne shouted.
-
Still continuing the high-speed, sporadic brawl taking place down the highway, Arnold and Tak still ran neck and neck with one another, pulling back and forth between their opposing goals, and neither achieving any success. Never gaining ground on one another or losing to the other, the two can do nothing but collide, forcing them into a deadlock made on the highway.
Once again making use of the robotic spider arms in her PAK, Tak deployed them to defend herself against Arnold, employing the use of four extra arms to substitute the one arm she spared from the handlebars. This at last gave Tak an edge in the fight, forcing Arnold to defend four different fronts at once.
It is a guarantee that is fulfilled when her four arms can strike him with ease and at a rapid pace, leaving Arnold to be stricken, slapped, and stabbed with her arms, and little he could do to defend against it. Only able to spare one hand to deflect the blows, moving away is also not an option, as Tak now made use of her arms to form an offense and moved closer to employ it.
Adapting to the new challenge posed, Arnold grabbed one of the incoming arms, moving to the side of the highway as he kept holding it. Being pulled to one side, Tak forced herself to keep from falling completely by using her remaining three arms to hold herself up, causing the metal to scrape and spark as they ran across the concrete.
The Comvee managed to catch up to the dueling motorcycles, coming in time to witness this strain put on Irken enemy.
"Come on, man, you got this!" Tyler cheered.
"Go, Arnold, you got her!" Eliza cheered.
"Yagabodigity-yagabodigity-yagabodigity!" Donnie cheered.
"Green Eye, Green Eye!" Shane cheered.
The encouragements of those in the Comvee go unheard by their target audience, but their subject gains attention from the strained Tak, having formulated a plan to escape her situation. Making a gambit to leap off her dirtbike, causing it to be crushed under the Comvee, Tak leapt to Arnold's dirtbike, positioning herself on the handlebars.
Once again do the two resort to a fistfight while driving, giving Tak the freedom to use both of her arms, and Arnold struggling to use both in shifts. Punches come in bound from Tak, all aiming towards the large and present target of Arnold's head, leaving him to deflect her blows while maintaining his balance.
Catching both of Tak's hands, Arnold now deprived the dirtbike of the necessary attention needed to operate it, leaving him at risk of harm. Seeing that neither would find any success with their newest deadlock, Tak made use of her arms once again, catching the front wheel to stop it.
The result was the motorcycle's back launching up, sending both Arnold and Tak off the dirtbike and tumbling onto the ground. Both implemented the tactic of hugging themselves to tumble across safely, with Tak making use of her robotic arms to provide extra sheltering from the concrete.
Arnold suffered small scrapes from the fall, but this small scuffle provided Tak with enough time to attain the bike for herself, beginning to dart off once again.
Just before Tak managed her second escape attempt, Arnold ran up to the dirtbike before it could fully accelerate, grabbing onto the back. Being dragged along for the ride, Arnold's shoes squealed loudly as the material ground against the asphalt, rapidly grinding down to nothing.
Noticing the hitchhiking Arnold on her bike, Tak began swerving to try to get him off, turning to devote enough attention to attack him with her robotic arms. The assault put on him is one he cannot defend against, but his dedication not to let Tak escape gave Arnold the strength to continue holding on.
A honking horn prompted him to turn around, seeing the Comvee drive up close behind. Marianne gave a nod from the window, nonverbally signaling a cue to act. Spinning around to face the Comvee, Arnold nodded back, prompting Marianne to increase her speed.
Allowing the Comvee to get right up next to the dirtbike, Arnold ran up the front of the mobile home, acrobatically flipping himself over Tak completely. As the Comvee began backing up again, Arnold allowed the speed of the bike to build momentum for him, extending his legs in a double-kick and knocking Tak off the bike.
Successfully knocking the wind of out Tak and leaving her unable to escape, Arnold stopped the bike with a sideways slide, touching the ground as he stopped.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Propping up the kickstand to the dirtbike, Arnold dismounted from it, leisurely stepping towards the downed Tak. The occupants of the Comvee disembarked from the vehicle to encroach Tak from the other side, all raising their weapons and fists to ready themselves for any more fight Tak would provide.
Where Tak looked up with fatigue and pain, Arnold and the team looked down with satisfied looks, knowing their prey was captured.
"Nice try." Arnold said.
"I'm not captured yet, human." Tak retorted.
Making use of her position on the ground, Tak began tumbling away from the group, allowing herself to fall off the side of the highway to the ground below. None had expected Tak to make a desperate move to escape, all gasping in shock as they saw her fall a full 2 stories.
Once again do her metal arms provide her protection, but they only do so much against the fall. Feeling her PAK receive an impact, Tak groaned as she landed, but still forced herself up, groaning as she limped away. Resulting from the damage to her PAK, her disguise began to glitch, showing but a split-second showing of her Irken self.
The shock of the display wears off its impact on her hunters as they finally react to the survival traits of a more competent Irken soldier.
"She's persistent as hell, isn't she?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. Now imagine a whole armada of those coming to Earth. We gotta get down there." Dib said.
Continuing to limp through the new road she found herself on, Tak's human disguise, once providing her with an identity to stay hidden through the human population, began to glitch again, doing so more frequently to show off her true Irken form. Her human guise compromised, her equipment's malfunctions began to draw stares and murmurs from those around her.
"What the hell...?" A bystander thought aloud
"Some kind of NewTube prank...?" Another bystander thought aloud.
"Must be filming a new movie or something..." A different bystander thought aloud.
Taking notice of the stares and comments, Tak increased her pace, trying to make her way away from the prying eyes of the humans. Keeping her eyes centered and focused, she paid no mind to the humans, holding onto the primal belief that simply disregarding the issue will make the problem go away.
As always, this proves to be a folly of a tactic; the humans not only kept their eyes on her, but several began following her, letting their curiosities get the better of them as they kept a close eye on the alien. Yet still did Tak disregard the humans now following her, even when her disguise served no more purpose.
A single human hand from a man touched her shoulder out of concern, but this made Tak turn around in fear, responding like an animal cornered by a predator...
"Hey, miss, you okay? You're looking pretty weird there-" The man began to ask.
...and just as an animal that been cornered will always do, Tak struck out, pulling out a retractable blade from the sleeve of her Irken attire and slashing the man across the chest with it. The attack does not make any killing blow or serious injury, but it is more than enough to make him yell and jump back as blood was drawn, and the rest of the humans around her back up in fear.
Now having no use for her disguise, Tak allowed her disguise to dissipate, revealing her true self as an Irken. This human race has been accustomed to many new sights and sounds that have made history, from stepping out of the caves to seeing members of their own species become superhuman, marking many achievements that have lived in their collective consciousness for eternity.
Today is the day they first lay eyes on extraterrestrial life, and they are just as scared of it as it is scared of them.
Similar misunderstandings are made between humans of different cultures as well, sparking the flames of war. Likewise, this misunderstanding has already escalated to violence, with the promise of more violence made strong from Tak, who continued to stare down the humans surrounding her, keeping her arm-mounted knife raised in defense.
"Hey. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to play with knives?" A voice asked.
Then, one human voice that sounded unafraid prompted Tak to turn around to face the voice, standing in the presence of Rudy Tabootie.
Keeping his identity secret from the public, Rudy wore a green pilot's flight suit with wool insulation, a large, superhero-stylized harlequin mask made drawn with chalk, and the same chalk that created the mask sitting a hand that wore a black glove alongside the other.
Standing without fear against the alien, Rudy kept his arms crossed in an authoritative manner, showing no signs of surrender or will to back down.
"I'm guessing you're one of these Irkens I've heard about. Why don't you put the knife down, and come quietly?" Rudy asked.
Not willing to give into Rudy's peacefully-delivered but dire threat, Tak began running for freedom, forcing Rudy into a chase. Rather than pursue the fugitive alien on foot, Rudy quickly drew up a horse, additionally drawing a cowboy hat for himself as he mounted the horse.
Whipping the reigns of the horse, Rudy let out a cheerful...
"Hi-Ho, Silver! AWAY!" Rudy yelled.
Sending itself and its rider off with a neigh, the horse began running back up to Tak, catching up with her in but seconds. Rushing up in front of the alien fugitive, Rudy stopped before her, his horse raising its front legs and neighing as he blocked Tak from escaping.
Turning back and pursuing the opposite way, Tak released her robotic limbs from her PAK, making use of the extraneous limbs to crawl away at a faster pace. The method gives Rudy more chase, forced to move down the street after her, and it is now that he sought new means to stop her by drawing a lasso.
Swinging the lasso above his head, Rudy threw it towards Tak, securing one of her robotic legs and snagging it taut. With his target caught on his lasso, Rudy began moving his horse in the opposite direction as Tak, dragging her along the asphalt to wear her down.
Though initially sent on her back and dragged along, Tak began to gain her footing once again by having her regular legs and remaining three robotic legs mount herself upright again. Expecting his target to have been worn out on the ground, Rudy stepped off to see Tak standing up again, preparing to cut the lasso with her knife.
Quickly sketching out a lever rifle, Rudy aimed it at Tak's blade and pulled the trigger, shooting the blade off with a chalk bullet.
Continuing to run up to Tak, Rudy gained a familiarity with her martial arts expertise firsthand as she began striking out at him, forcing him to back up and defend himself. Catching a single arm that made its way towards him, Rudy kept his hold on her to force her to the ground.
Grabbing the lasso, Rudy began tying it around Tak's arms, legs, and robotic limbs, securing them tightly and depriving her of any means of escape or fight. Struggling against her hold, Tak's grunts and straining turned to frustrated yells as she failed to escape, leaving her subdued and helpless.
The victory Rudy achieved over the alien gained him several bouts of applause from the human bystanders, cheering over the victory of humanity over the alien invader. Taking off his hat and putting it to his chest, Rudy gave a bow, treating the affair as though it was but a show for the masses.
The Comvee followed into the road shortly after, with Vanzilla making its way just behind. Both stopped to see the victory of Rudy Tabootie, seeing him draw a carrot to feed to his newly-drawn horse, and drawing a portal to ChalkZone in the road. Slapping the horse's hindquarters with his hat, Rudy sent the equine through the portal, protecting it from the dangers of the real world.
Tossing the cowboy hat aside, Rudy dragged Tak behind him as he approached the Comvee, seeing its occupants disembark to meet with him.
"This the alien you were so scared of?" Rudy asked.
"No, long story short, it's another one that we thought was gone. We lost Zim." Dib groaned.
"You can tell me the full story along the way, alongside how we're going to find Zim."
Rudy's response brought surprise and restrained elation from the others, taking his news with a confirmation.
"You're in the team after all? What made you change your mind?" Otto asked.
"I decided, what the hell." Rudy said.
Having no complaints and less questions, Rudy received a handshake from Arnold, firmly meeting his artist's hand with a rugged fighting one.
"Welcome aboard, Mr. Tabootie." Arnold said.
And, at the mention of his name, Ace Savvy removed his mask to change back to his persona of Lincoln Loud, correctly guessing the new recruit's identity.
"Wait... Rudy Tabootie? The artist behind Vampire Cannibals of Piscataway, New Jersey, A Stranger's Journey, and a whole bunch of other awesome comics?" Lincoln asked.
Taking off his own harlequin mask, Rudy confirmed his identity, nodding to Lincoln.
"Guilty as charged." Rudy said.
Squeeing in fanboyish delight, Lincoln's mind immediately began shooting off with several comments and questions regarding his work, forgetting his place as a superhero.
"Holy crap, I can't get over how awesome this day is! Mr. Tabootie, I really love your work. Also, love the mask, very Kyle Rayner Green Lantern." Lincoln said.
"Thanks. That must've been where I drew the inspiration from when I drew this. Surprised you remember Vampire Cannibals; that was one of my early works." Rudy chuckled.
"Oh, I've got it all. That one was really hard to find, especially after your reemergence. Hey, when we get home, any chance you can sign my copies? I've got two copies of the original, I keep one of them wrapped in plastic. Also, can you tell me how you pulled off that panel where you drew the..."
As Lincoln marched to the back with Rudy, continuing to shoot off more questions, Arnold and Otto watched as the young fanboy swooned over one of his favorite artists, with Arnold looking in disappointment where Otto smirked in amusement, finding a bit of himself in the sight.
Looking to Arnold after, Otto raised four fingers on his hands with a smile and a nod.
"You guys, bring Tak onboard." Dib ordered.
The members of the team responded to Dib with a blank stare, followed by a look to Arnold.
"Bring Tak aboard." Arnold said.
Arnold's authority is what drives them to bring Tak onboard, leaving Dib left out in the cold. Marianne looked to him with a smirk, further humiliating him.
"What are you looking at?" Dib asked.
"Nothing." Marianne smirked.
The doors to the Comvee closed as Tak was brought aboard, driving off as they carried their extraterrestrial passenger along. Still defiant even with her apparent defeat, Tak continued struggling against the chalk lasso that restrained her, failing to do anything save for gain looks from the humans who captured her.
Arnold put a stop to it by grabbing her restrained limbs, staring Tak in the eyes to make her fighting stop.
"Give it up. You're not going anywhere." Arnold said.
"Release me! Now, human! I order you!" Tak yelled.
Another purple spark ran across her eyes, sending a mental transmission meant to make its receiver more susceptible to the order.
"That's not going to happen." Arnold said.
Once again, the attempt at telepathic influence failed to work, with Arnold's own mental abilities blocking the signal and rendering her efforts useless. Now having a second instance where her telepathic powers failed her, Tak has the time to process this seeming impossibility, and can question it.
"You can resist my implant. How-?" Tak began to ask.
"You've only dealt with the less-than-intelligent side of humanity up to this point. Not anymore. You put up a hell of a fight, but it wasn't good enough. Right now, you're restrained with no way out, and that little Jedi mind trick of yours won't help you. My Jedi mind tricks are way better than yours, and I've also got size on my side. You're coming with us. You can make it easy on yourself, or make it harder. Which one would you prefer?" Arnold asked.
Relaxing her body, Tak maintained a scowl towards Arnold, showing no signs of resistance, but a clear distaste for it.
"Good choice." Arnold said.
Releasing Tak and letting her lie, Arnold turned to Dib for the next course of action.
"We've got the wrong alien, and he may be anywhere on the planet, if that, but we got his base. Now what?" Arnold asked.
"First thing we do is head back to my place. We can all exchange facts there, find out what we can from Tak, and, lastly... you get to see the robot." Dib said.
-
Somewhere in space, aboard the Irken ship of the Massive...
"Are we there yet?" Purple asked.
"No." Red groaned.
"Are we there yet?"
"No."
"Are we there yet?"
"No."
"Are we there yet?"
"NO."
"Are we there yet?"
"NO! WE ARE NOT THERE YET, AND WE WON'T BE FOR A LONG, LONG TIME!"
Meekly staying quiet, Purple cowered before Red in fear, but not before pushing the limits of his patience once again.
"How much longer until we get there?" Purple asked.
"About 3 or 4 Earth days." Red said.
"You said that 3 or 4 Earth days ago."
"No, I said it 3 or 4 Earth hours ago."
"I can't tell the difference."
"...You know what? I farking hate you."
Purple sadly sulked in place, looking at the floor with a frown. His fellow Tallest stood beside him with a scowl on his face, his eye twitching in hatred and rage, silently praying that his anger would subside, and that Purple would not try his patience again, hoping that he would not repeat his question again...
...but, alas, his hopes were all in vain.
"Are we there yet now?" Purple asked.
It is said that, in space, no one can hear you scream, but the sheer rage of Tallest Red of the Irken Empire puts that scientific fact into question. Letting out a loud scream, the sound can, against all understanding of physics and logic, be heard across the vacuum of space, travelling without the need for air.
It is also strong enough to reach a nearby planet, where two marsupial-like aliens scavenged across a desert.
"[Did you say something?]" One marsupial alien asked.
"[No, it was those damn Irkens again.]" The other marsupial alien answered.
"[Irkens? Well, shit. There goes the planet.]"
Chapter 20: Chapter 18: Close Encounters, Part 1
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 18: CLOSE ENCOUNTERS, PART 1
Life begets life, and its purpose is to create more of it.
This is a fact that Penny Tabootie has experienced firsthand on two occasions, having a daughter and son by the name of Carol and Carlos, respectively. These two have been brought to her by a previous marriage, and, upon its failure, she found her long-lost childhood crush of Rudy Tabootie to be more than a worthy replacement, becoming a perfect figure for her children to follow.
Now, Penny is set to experience a third child in her life, coming from the seed of Rudy, but he is not present in the house.
Soon is she to find this truth out for herself, returning from a fertility clinic with a paper showing her results as positive for a pregnancy test. Excitement is what initially overcomes her when she is ready to spread the news to her husband, eager to see what reaction he will take...
...but, as mentioned, he is nowhere to be found, leaving her good news to be postponed.
The search for Rudy takes a detour to the refrigerator as she saw a note stuck to it, pulling it off to read it. Upon reading the note's contents, Penny at last had the answer to the absence of her husband, with a full page of his handwriting left for her to read and explain his departure.
What she read led her to a full blast of anxiety taking over her body. Flight-or-flight responses evolved to respond to predators is misplaced with her worry for her husband, and she fears for his life now more than ever. Seating herself at the kitchen table, her breath began to increase in pace, having thoughts of paranoia and nervousness swell her head.
Could Rudy be dead already?
Could Rudy be in trouble beyond her help?
Could Rudy have no care that she could be pregnant?
Could Rudy be abandoning the family?
Could Rudy not love her at all?
Irrational as they may be, Penny's thoughts bring her to a near-crippling state of anxiety, and nearly brought to tears over the news.
Alone for now, their two children come from down the stairs to see her, arriving in the kitchen in the hopes that dinner would be made soon. Upon seeing their mother in her anxious state, they know well what the problem is, and immediately step close to speak to her, but not too close as to overwhelm her.
"Mama? What's wrong?" Carol asked.
"Carol... Rudy... Your dad... He left us... He left us..." Penny panted.
"What?!"
Carlos took the note that his mother had read, with Carol reading it alongside him.
"Mama, he's not gone. He just went off to fight the bad guys with the Green Eye, he's okay." Carol said.
"You don't know that for sure, Carol. Anything could have happened to Rudy by now. He could have gotten himself captured, or killed, or... Or... Oh, god, I don't know..." Penny panted.
"Mom, calm down. Dad's fine. He'll be back." Carlos said.
"No, he WON'T!"
The scream put both children in a state of fear, stepping back from their mother, but Penny instantly rectified her mistake by grabbing the two and hugging them.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I'm just so scared for Rudy. You know what happened to your dad in ChalkZone. I don't like it when he's off alone. Especially not when he didn't say anything, it's just like when... Oh, why did he have to go off all alone?" Penny cried.
Breaking herself off from her mother, Carol ran up to the house phone, beginning to dial it, all to the confusion of Penny and Carlos.
"Carol? What are you doing?" Penny asked.
"Dad's not going to be alone. And he's not gonna leave you all alone." Carol said.
"Operator, how can I direct your call?" The phone asked.
"Yes, operator, can you tell us where to find Dib Membrane?"
-
The human brain has two hemispheres.
The left hemisphere focuses on Objective Reality, analyzing the world to make sense of it in the simplest, strictest terms possible by science.
The right hemisphere focuses on Perceptive Reality, drawing upon creativity and imagination to touch upon the abstract, making the world bigger and complex.
Together they form the human perception of the world, working in collaboration with one another to form one's own Subjective Reality.
The Fenton family was once known to make use of these two realities to touch worlds unseen and unknown, attempting to reach out to the life beyond our own to see what lies in wait after death. Despite their many years of research, they were ultimately unsuccessful, leading them to abandon their dreams in favor of a normal yet more lucrative life.
Their research has been left unfinished and untouched, and the works in which they based their entire branch of science on has not found use safe for resting on bookshelves in the house, nearly forgotten in their many years of unuse, with their knowledge surely to rot away as the pages would eventually...
...but, on this day, the books have found new use yet again as Danny Fenton began reading through many, resting on his bed to study them at his leisure. There is a feeling in him that he does not understand, and the many books that his sister has studied gave many answers, but none that were to his liking or gave him what he sought.
In the failure of modern science, the arcane is where he sets his sights next. Many know of the dangers and scams that exist within this field; men who can make outlandish claims and perform mere parlor tricks, gaining a following to make profits off the malnourished souls of others, men which we know as liars and cult leaders.
The Fentons were smart to look past any such men, and Danny is just as smart, looking through the books to construct the answer he sought.
A knock on the door to his room interrupted his reading briefly, prompting him to look up and address who was on the other side.
"Come in." Danny said.
Entering as she was given her permission, Jazz walked inside his room, observing him study his books.
"What's all this? Studying up for something in your comic?" Jazz asked.
"No, something a little more personal." Danny said.
Taking a look at one of the books on his bed, Jazz perused its title, finding immediate disappointment as she read it.
"Ugh. 'Tolbin's Spirit Guide'? You're reading Mom and Dad's old occult books?" Jazz asked.
"Yeah." Danny said.
"Why?"
"I told you, something a little personal."
Noticing the cold tone in her brother's voice, Jazz seated herself on Danny's bed, attempting to make herself more open and available to communication.
"Look, Danny. I came up here to say I was sorry about the big fight we had." Jazz said.
"But you don't approve of my reading choices. You think I should bury my head in those fancy psychology books of yours." Danny responded.
"Well, I wouldn't say it like that, but I would recommend you read them, and not for the reason of 'being like me' or anything like that. I suggest it because what I read is science, based on real life and evidence, where this stuff is... untestable and unproven, to put it mildly."
"It's another side of the human experience. Jack Kirby often showed the idea of combining science with magic, I'm just following through on that idea."
"He was also a veteran with PTSD, from what I read. I don't think putting your faith in comic books is the best foundation for a belief system."
"I can believe what I want, Jazz. It's a free country."
"True. But it does help to have your beliefs based on facts and information. Otherwise, you're liable to go down a path where you're doing no good for yourself or anyone else."
"You just love to mommy me, don't you?"
"Well, our Mom's not here for either of us anymore, too busy helping Dad at work. Somebody's gotta make up the difference."
Jazz gently rubbed Danny on his back, making him let out a relaxed sigh and let his eyelids lower.
"Danny, I'm not asking you to be somebody you're not, or to be exactly like me in every way. I just want to make sure you're okay." Jazz said.
"I'm fine, Jazz. I'm just..." Danny trailed.
"Just what?"
"I don't know. Looking for something, I guess. I don't even know what I'm looking for, but I know I have to find it. And I'm looking anywhere I can."
"That's alright. As long as you know that I'm here to help, here for anything you need, then that's fine with me."
"Yeah, I know."
"Good. Now, I have to go out of town. I've got a big convention coming up with a lot of other skeptics and thinkers out there. I'll be gone for a few days."
"Leaving the house to me again. Nothing I'm not used to."
"Oh, poor little rich boy, you."
Danny chuckled at his sister's joke, showing more warmth coming out from his disposition.
"But there's plenty of food in the fridge, and you know there's always the credit card Mom and Dad leave for us. It's all yours for the while, I'll manage on my own." Jazz said.
"Okay." Danny said.
"And your meds are all filled up, right?"
Danny hesitated only slightly when asked the question, hiding the fact he had not taken any.
"Yeah." Danny lied.
"Good boy. Alright, now, give me a hug." Jazz said.
Danny gave his sister a hug as she asked, showing a tender moment of bonding between the siblings.
"Alright, I'll see you in a few days. Take care of yourself, okay?" Jazz asked.
A nod is all that Danny replied with, leaving Jazz to head to the door. Still requiring a verbal answer to her question, she faced Danny before exiting to hear it.
"Of course I will." Danny said.
Smiling with her own nod, Jazz exited the room, closing the door behind her.
Alone at last, Danny resumed his research with his many books, delving into the arcane and esoteric knowledge that laid in wait for him to discover. Many hours have been spent already in his search for the unknown, tapping into latent space of the human mind, and many more will come as he continued.
Concepts of what lies on both the physical and philosophical are what intrigue him, and get him one step closer to what answers he sought. Still does the question regarding his experience with the Ghost Portal send him into further inquiries, but also of the supposed past life he keeps experiencing, knowing the life and adventures of Danny Phantom as though they were his own memories.
Interpretations of the human condition are made from many perspectives, all from many cultures, religions, faiths, and different fields of thought. Each one seems to be so close to the answer he sought, yet so many of them strayed far away, as though all paths led to one answer, yet came to something different at the same time.
But the research is enough to plant an idea in his mind, and strike at it with further experimentation. Pulling out his phone, he called Sam Manson to seek his assistant.
"Hey, Danny, what's up?" Sam asked.
"I need you to come over. Jazz's gone." Danny said.
"Just a booty call? Or is this about the comic, too?"
"Something different, but, I will say that it might involve sex."
"Sounds kinky, I'm interested."
"Bring some drugs, too."
"Ha, bring 'some drugs'. You sound like a freshman from a private school who's never even tried weed before."
"I mean bring some of everything. I don't know what we'll need."
"Oh, okay, I kind of see where this is going. Anything else?"
"Bring Tucker, too, if you can get him."
"So, it is a comic thing? But with sex and drugs?"
"Just do it."
"Okay, okay, chill. I'll bring Tucker and some party favors. Be there in a few minutes."
"Okay, thanks. See you soon."
Hanging up the phone, Danny laid back in his bed, thinking over the plans he had in mind. He knows that what he will soon ask of both Sam and Tucker will be much; Sam, he knows, will be much easier a sell, but he knows Tucker will be far more hesitant to engage.
Yet still, he is convinced that it will help himself, and perhaps both of them as well.
-
American politics are a never-ending circus; battles are fought on endless fronts of laws and economics, effecting every level of everyday life for even the most average citizen. Those that control these factors are in the three branches that make up the United States government:
The Executive, who controls the direction of the country by running its many departments that manage everyday life...
The Judicial, who reviews law and policy alike to the standards of the Constitution through review and legal challenges...
...and the Legislative, who make the laws that form the country and aim to make life more fair for its citizens.
Since the mid-20th century, lobbying and corporate powers have whittled away at all levels of government to rig the country in their favor, hoping to make a quick profit at the cost of everyone else, socializing whatever losses they accrue while keeping what gains they make in capital.
None have been more effective at helping these entities gain more power than the American people than those in the Legislative branch, in Congress, but there have been many who come up through the grassroots, winning elections to the seats of the Senate and House of Representatives by shunning corporate bribes and vowing to serve the average American worker.
One of those people is Olga Pataki, who serves as the sole representative of Vermont. She is currently in a meeting with various other left-leaning politicians in a meeting in New Hampshire, all working on a variety of different issues and troubles that require their attention.
Sitting at a table with other Representatives and Senators, Olga reviewed a recent news video shared regarding a Supreme Court Justice. He had discussed the topic of the trials of former President Milius Arcudi, responsible for the destruction of Hillwood by nuclear strike, with a news anchor.
Though he holds several high degrees in law, he soon demonstrates that accreditation does not equal intelligence.
"A nuclear armed strike is nothing short of unprecendented action for a president, but what will be the arguments be made from the Surpreme Court regarding the legality of President Arcudi's action?" The news anchor asked.
"Well, it's quite simple, miss. He's the President. Anything he does, he does as an elected figure in office, as an official action. As long as a Republican president does whatever he thinks is right, he's not committing any crimes." The Justice said.
The Fruedian slip regarding his preference for a certain political party, the news anchor lifted an eyebrow, to which the Justice stammered to correct his mistake.
"I mean, something, something... The Constitution!" The Justice panicked.
The news clip ended shortly, its purpose served enough with a small soundbite, and makes more than enough conversation for the congressmen at the table.
"Well, aside from the obvious partisan admission that Justice Robins just gave us, anyone gonna note how the news anchor talks about nuking an American city like it's within the realm of normal conversation?" A congressman asked.
"Sanewashing's the least of our worries, and nothing we can do much about. He's basically admitting that anything the President does, he's completely immune from. Imagine the kind of precedent that sets." A congresswoman said.
"No wonder he resigned and went into hiding to dodge impeachment. Now we just have his Veep to deal with. But at least he's one of the least bad Republicans." Another congresswoman said.
"That's like being the tallest kid in kindergarten, not saying much. But we can definitely use this to show Justice Robins has no impartiality, useful for an impeachment trial. We'll need him out of the way so he doesn't just overrule anything we try to pass or obstruct justice." Another congressman said.
"We seriously need to look into term limits for Supreme Court Justices." A different congressman said.
Absent from this conversation is, of all people, Olga Pataki herself. She has been known to spearhead many of the efforts of the caucus, often being the face of many of their movements, but neither her heart nor head are in the moment with her fellow congressmen, sulking quietly and ignorant to the conversations of the others.
Her absence is noted even in their impassioned debates, and her mind is called upon to enter the discussion.
"Olga? Hey Olga!" A congressman called.
"Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry, what were we talking about?" Olga asked.
"Olga, are you okay? You're really out of it today." A congresswoman said.
"Oh... I guess I'm just worried about my baby sister."
Knowing full well of Helga's time in Hillwood, all congressmen stayed quiet, sympathetically nodding along.
"Do you need to take a break, Olga?" A congresswoman asked.
"No, I'm okay. I guess I'm just a little anxious. She's out socializing with the others, she'll be fine." Olga said.
The truth is much different from what Olga purports, perhaps in a desperate bid to lie to herself and stay calm. Helga does nothing of the sort in the word 'social' applies, instead keeping to herself and scrolling through her smartphone. Others her age are in the convention, chatting among themselves and laughing along in enjoyment.
The laughter and sounds of pleasure are little more than noise to Helga Pataki. Stuck in depression buried down with drug use, little else matters to her outside of receiving another hit. Pleasure is a concept far removed from her recent memory, and all energy in her body and mind is gone. Her existence is comparable to that of a vampire or ghost of legend past, a member of the living dead with no feelings of her own.
Yet there are forces that try to slay the undead and give life to Helga again, as Olga attempts to do yet again with her sister. Helga does not know how much time has passed since Olga spoke with her colleagues, but simple logic deduced that all of her time was spent in this spot, sitting alone.
"Helga? Baby sister?" Olga asked.
"Mmm?" Helga mumbled.
"You doing okay?"
"Fine."
"You get something to eat?"
"Not that hungry."
"Okay, but the food's really good, you know."
"Maybe I'll eat later."
"Alright. Here, why don't you come with me for a minute?"
Olga escorted Helga across the room with her, hoping that introducing her to people directly would open her out of her shell better. Brought over to some of Olga's fellow congressmen, Helga received many warm greetings and kind words from the lot, all attempting to be as welcoming and as open as possible.
"Hey Helga, how you doing?" A congressman asked.
"Fine." Helga mumbled.
"You know, your sister's doing a lot of important work with us. Well, honestly, it feels like she does most of the work for us. You should be proud of her."
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
Olga discreetly waved a finger to her neck, silently urging her colleague not to speak of his current subject, forcing him to readjust.
"Uh, but enough about her, what about you? Anything you like to do?" The congressman asked.
"I make art sometimes, I guess." Helga mumbled.
Her answer got many excited to hear for more, all 'ooh'ing and 'aah'ing at her response.
"Really? What kind of art do you make? Painting? Sculpting?" A congresswoman asked.
"A little bit of everything, I guess." Helga mumbled.
"Yes, Helga's quite the art prodigy. She makes some of the most wonderful works of art I've seen. She's also great at piano, too." Olga interjected.
"Oh, well, we gotta hear something now. Play something for us." Another congressman said.
"Yeah, girl, go on and play." Another congresswoman said.
"I don't really feel like it." Helga said.
"Aw, come on, don't be like that. C'mon, we got a piano right over here, play something! Helga! Helga!" A different congressman chanted.
"Helga! Helga!" The congressmen chanted.
Helga was brought up to a piano resting in the lobby, urged up against her wishes by Olga and her chanting colleagues. Seated at the piano, Helga looked up to Olga with a dirty eye, but Olga returned it with an encouraging nudge, once again trying to lift the spirits of her sister.
Her fellow congressmen also began cheering on her upcoming performance, hyping it up with the other members of the party, with Olga introducing her.
"Alright, everyone. In case you haven't met her yet, I'd like you to meet my baby sister Helga. I take care of her back at home, she spends most of her time making art in a lot of forms. She's a very talented girl... and, boys, she's single." Olga giggled.
The members of the party all snickered at the final comment, where Helga scowled at Olga for her joke.
"Olga...!" Helga whispered.
"Just kidding, of course. But I'd like you all to give a big round of applause for her, and see just a taste of the many talents she has in store. Give it up for my baby sister, Helga!" Olga cheered.
The members of the party all cheered and clapped, forcing Helga into the position of performing for them. Pushed beyond angry over the edge by Olga's influence, Helga had a strong desire to break all semblance of social norms and lash out at the crowd, showing no compliance with their wishes...
...but there is a part of her that was instilled by another that gave a sense of calm in the harshest of times, giving her a steady hand to hold through her most trying troubles. It is this hand she feels touch her once again in her moment of anger, seeking it for guidance.
Feeling the hand touch her, she also once again feels the absence of the owner of the hand from her life, and again suffered the sorrow of her loss. Her pain is one that can be easily transcribed into music, and the instrument for her expression laid right in front of her, prompting her to move her hands to the keyboard.
When she plays, she plays not for the crowd, but for him.
[Soundtrack Cue: Jefferson Airplane - Comin' Back to Me]
Author's Note: The next portion of this chapter uses lyrics from the aforementioned song: 'Comin' Back to Me' from the album 'Surrealistic Airplane' by Jefferson Airplane. The songwriting credits belong to Marty Balin, and the distribution rights belong to Sony Music Entertainment through its ownership of RCA Records. No copyright infringement is intended.
Her fingers play a somber piano rendition of the gentle psychedelic folk rock song; lacking a recorder to play along with the song, Helga played its notes as well with the instrument, making use of high notes to match its sound while the lower notes matched that of the guitar.
The soft melody is not what any of the audience had expected to hear, and it no longer contributes to their spirited enthusiasm, but instead now demanded and received a full, silent attention. The members of the party no longer saw this as a mere show or party trick, but instead a full expression of her very soul.
And her voice sang out the notes in a sad manner, further touching the hearts of all who listened.
"The summer had inhaled and held its breath too long,
The winter looked the same as if it never had gone,
And through an open window where no curtain hung...
I saw you,
I saw you,
Comin' back to me...
One begins to read between the pages of a look,
The shape of sleepy music and suddenly you're hooked,
Through the rain upon the trees that kisses on the run...
I saw you,
I saw you,
Comin' back to me...
You came to stay and live my way,
Scatter my love like leaves in the wind,
You always say you won't go away,
But I know what it always has been,
It always has been...
A transparent dream beneath an occasional sigh,
Most of the time I just let it go by,
Now I wish it hadn't begun...
I saw you,
Yes I saw you,
Comin' back to me...
Strolling the hills overlooking the shore,
I realize I've been here before,
The shadow in the mist could have been anyone...
I saw you,
I saw you,
Comin' back to me...
Small things like reasons are put in a jar,
Whatever happened to wishes, wished on a star?
Was it just something that I made up for fun?
I saw you,
I saw you,
Comin' back to me...
[Soundtrack Cue End]
The ending of the song is met with not applause, but a dead silence.
Turning to face her audience, Helga finds them not applauding out of disrespect or a dislike of her performance, but because all are silent in contemplation and reflection of the song they heard. The know that there was a sincerity in the way she sang, hearing it down to every note she sang and played, and what she feels is now what they feel.
No dry eyes existed throughout the room, and what noise finally came were small sniffles and sobs, casting a wave of sadness throughout the party. The happy mood that was once present in the building was now dead and gone, and supplanted was a deep sympathy for Helga.
Olga is the one who feels it the most, and, putting a hand on Helga's shoulder, she is the first to express it. Turning back to Olga, Helga's face remained blank following her song, but it twinged with appreciation as she saw the sympathy and sadness that she had herself, knowing that her pain is felt and known.
Though she is still not happy being forced to perform, she knows that there is a genuine love Olga has for her.
-
The Membrane household is home to one Dr. Angel Membrana, better known to the world as Professor Membrane, and his two children: Dib and Gaz.
The father is almost never in the home, spending his many hours working on new scientific projects in pursuit of the latest breakthrough in progress, leaving Dib and Gaz to their own devices. Gaz spends the vast majority of her time playing video games and eating from Bloaty's Pizza Hog, caring not for what her brother does...
...like when he brings home a large amount of superheroes and other guests into the house, walking past his sister as she sat on the couch with a GameSlave and pizza.
"Gaz! I'm bringing some friends over, we'll be in dad's lab!" Dib called.
"Whatever, Dib, I don't care." Gaz said.
The team all proceeded inside with Dib, carrying the captured Tak over their heads, all while Gaz continued to pay no mind to any of them.
"We found Tak again and captured her, we're going to take her in for questioning, so please don't bother us!" Dib called.
"Whatever, Dib, I don't care." Gaz said.
While following along with the rest of the group, Lincoln stopped and observed Gaz's GameSlave and Pizza, taking interest in both.
"Ooh, is that the new GameSlave? And is that old world pepperoni?" Lincoln asked.
As Lincoln began to reach for a slice of pizza, Gaz held out a hand with sharpened nails, making the sound of a knife unsheathing as she held it out.
"Touch anything and I'll rip your balls off." Gaz hissed.
Shuddering in fear, Lincoln backed up to join with the rest, keeping his distance away from Gaz.
"I like your outfit." Lucy said.
"Thanks, you, too." Gaz said.
Aside from the mutual respect from two gothic girls, Gaz paid no mind to the rest of the group as they passed through, taking another slice of pizza to bite.
Stepping inside Professor Membrane's laboratory, Dib introduced the group to a series of scientific wonders and amazements, all taking place within the confines of his household. The many sounds of impression got Dib to smile in pride, carrying on with a smile on his face, savoring what respect he could scavenge.
"Whoa. Professor Membrane's definitely got some big bucks to have all this in a room of his house. What I wouldn't give to have this setup at home." Sam swooned.
"Eh. I've got a better laboratory at home. My particle accshelerator ish bigger than hish." Lisa shrugged.
As the group still carried Tak , Dib directed the group over to a small glass cage, opening its door with a computer pad.
"Put her in here." Dib ordered.
Rudy came forward with Tak, placing her in the cage and untying his lasso around her. Once taking his lasso back, Rudy swiftly stepped out of the cage, allowing Dib to shut it and lock it once again, pressing the computer pad next to it to lock the door, sealing Tak inside.
Scowling at the occupants who trapped her inside, Tak leapt to the wall, hitting against it with a loud impact, and sending the heroes back with the sudden noise.
"Don't let her spook you. That cage's been designed to keep any alien inside indefinitely. I was hoping for the chance to test it on Zim, but it'll do Tak just fine. The only way in through besides the door is that little hole at the bottom to slide trays of food, and there's no way she can get through that." Dib said.
"Wait a minute... How do you know it was designed to hold aliens if it's never been tested before?" Eliza asked.
Dib stood in silence before answering her question, looking to the cage and looking back to her before finding an answer.
"Well, it looks like it's working just fine to me." Dib said.
"How nice. Except we're forgetting the most important thing right now: Not only did we get the wrong alien, but we don't even have Curly's body, let alone know where either of them are." Arnold said.
"A fact we're all aware of, Mr. Shortman, and a frustration we also feel."
"My frustration's a little deeper than yours. I signed up to take care of Curly, and we haven't done that yet."
"You also said you'd see when you saw the threat of the aliens. You've seen it for yourself now. You're still not convinced?"
"There's a difference between not being convinced and not caring. Right now, I don't care."
Having no more interest in the rest of the group or the mission laid out before him, Arnold began walking away.
"Hey, man, where you going?" Twister asked.
"To find Curly's body, come hell or high water. First place I'm checking is that alien's base." Arnold said.
"Even if you find it there, you'll never find Zim. You'd have a better chance with us." Dib said.
"From the way you all fumbled catching just the one alien, I like my chances better on my own."
Uncaring to the others or their concerns, the only one who managed to make Arnold stay is Nigel Thornberry, whose steady hand and voice make him stop and listen.
"Arnold, son. Please." Nigel said.
"I came this far with you, Nigel. I'm not in the spirits to stay here. Especially not when I have better things to do." Arnold said.
"This team is here because of you, Arnold. Your own affairs are so much more important than what you helped build? Than all the people who came together for you?"
"I'm going after someone that only I could take down on my own. The others who tried all died."
Arnold disregarded Nigel's advice and continued moving on, caring not for the reactions of the others. Believing himself to be leaving on his own, he was immediately joined by Lincoln Loud, placing his harlequin mask on to assume the identity of Ace Savvy. His dedication led Arnold to stop and give him an eye, receiving an enthusiastic smile back.
"What do you think you're doing?" Arnold asked.
"Going with you. Anywhere you go, I'm in." Ace Savvy said.
"I'm not looking for a tagalong."
"Then how about a sidekick? Think about it: The Green Eye and Ace Savvy, a dynamic duo taking on the evil forces of Zim and the Irken threat!"
Letting out an annoyed sigh, Arnold changed his tone and argument for Lincoln to comprehend.
"Listen, kid. I don't work with others anymore. I learned the hard way that it all goes to shit. You go with me, you're gonna get yourself killed." Arnold said.
"I'm tougher than I look. I can absorb pretty much any hit that I take, and use it to blow stuff up. And how many people do you know who actually want to sign up for this?" Ace Savvy asked.
"A lot. They're all dead. Literally the only reason I came all this way is to make sure that threat is completely gone. I'm not taking anyone else along with me."
"But you literally brought all of us along to help with this exact threat? Did you forget that?"
"You couldn't even handle a couple of aliens with the IQ of gnats. The people I knew were leagues ahead of you all. I'm better off on my own."
Otto now stepped in and spoke to Arnold, hoping that his wisdom would help convince him to stay.
"Is that what you told your parents?" Otto asked.
The question brought both offense and interest alike from Arnold, who looked back with a glare.
"What did you just say?" Arnold asked.
"Before your parents died, was that what you said to them? That you were better off without them?" Otto asked.
"Not that it matters, but no. What the hell kind of point are you trying to make?"
"Can't you tell just by reading me?"
"It's not always that clear."
"Then let me make it clear for you: You said your parents saved your life. If they believed like you did, they would've just let you die. I bet if you were in the reverse situation as them and believed what you did now, you'd let them die."
Arnold responded to Otto's point by punching him in the face, sending him falling to the floor.
"You don't know the first thing about how I feel about my parents. And I personally dragged them out of the jungles of San Lorenzo to save them, so I didn't just let them die when the shoe was on the other foot. Don't you ever say that garbage to me again." Arnold growled.
"I said it to make a point, Arnold. I know you love your parents." Otto said.
Spitting out the taste of blood in his own mouth, Otto raised himself back up to confront Arnold.
"You act like there's nothing good left in you, like it all died. When the people who gave it to you died. You know I know how that feels, too. But I didn't give up. I wanted to, I almost did, and it took my whole family to get me out of it. Maybe I felt the way you did once. But I got out of it. It took a lot of help from others, but I did it. They made me want to do it again. They made me want to try again. It's not just us who need you. It's you who needs us." Otto said.
Arnold remained silent at Otto's speech, making no response to his first point.
"I've seen you get some little glimpses of hope. Everyone here's trying to give you some help. Like Marianne said: Just because you stopped believing in people, doesn't mean that people stopped believing in you. So I'm not asking you to stay because the Earth depends on it, or anything like that. I'm asking you to stay because, whether you wanna admit it or not, you need this. You've been on your own all this time in the jungle, you know that you didn't get what you needed there. Maybe it's time you try again, too." Otto said.
Pride forbids Arnold from showing any signs of agreement with Otto, but there is agreement all the same, and his response communicates this without explicit admission.
"I'm still not sold on Dib's story." Arnold said.
"Seriously? Even with the alien right there?" Dib asked.
"You mentioned some robot from the future. You still haven't confirmed that. Show me that and I'll believe it more."
"Alright. Right this way, Mr. Shortman."
Arnold is led to the garage of the household, and the rest of the group follow along to see about the alleged robot sent from the future to assemble the team. When dealing with someone as eccentric and as untrustworthy as Dib, it is not yet enough for Arnold Shortman that alien life exists to fully believe his tale, and he does not believe this part of the story will be confirmed, either...
...but, upon entering, he was met with a blue and white robot hanging from chains in the center of the garage, resting in a partial state of disassembly.
The group all stood amazed and nearly dumbfounded at the sight of the time-displaced android, and moreso found interest in the machine's heavily female appearance, drawing invocations of Fritz Lang as they gazed upon the visitor from the future, laying eyes on yet another different form of life.
The messenger from the future opened its eyes to look on the group, but Arnold is who caught her interest, widening them at his sight.
"Hey Arnold... It's you." The robot said.
-
Glimpses of one future is what Arnold and crew bear witness to, and, several hundred miles away, there is another who has seen glimpses of a different future.
He is a comic book writer by the name of Danny Fenton, son of a pair of ghost hunters turned food entrepreneurs. Once, the very fantasies that he writes were reality itself, and he lived as a ghost-hunting superhero known as Danny Phantom, fighting the undead alongside his wife, Sam Manson, and his best friend, Tucker Foley.
In this reality, Sam Manson is not his wife, but she is his significant other, and Tucker Foley is his best friend, but he is absent for much of the time. The former is also the artist to his comic book series, penciling and inking the scripts that Danny writes for her, and the latter is the man who sells the finished work to the public.
It is a rare instance that Tucker is with Danny or Sam for pleasure, such as this one, where he has been called to the bedroom of Danny Fenton.
"You don't normally pull me out of the biz for the simple stuff, Danny-boy. What's on your mind?" Tucker asked.
"I've been thinking a lot lately, Tucker. Thinking about where we're all going and what's happened to us." Danny said.
"Well, last I checked, what happened is that you had a panic attack in your parents' basement and got an idea for a comic book, then we all got super-famous and lots of money. Where do we go from there? I don't know, the Eisner Awards?"
"That's just it, Tucker. We've been all so focused on this comic that we haven't done anything anymore. We've never really gone out and had fun or anything like that since we were kids."
"Yeah, because we were kids, man. We all gotta grow up some time. We're living in the real world now. Well, I live in the real world, you two live in comic book land. I just get it sold to the public."
"That's not an excuse. Ever since the incident at the portal, it just feels like there's something... wrong."
"I mean... Yeah, a panic attack is kind of something you can consider 'wrong'. Like, it's not just supposed to happen. You could try to see a therapist for that."
"Tucker, please just listen to him. This has been on his mind for awhile." Sam interrupted.
Silently holding his tongue, Tucker turned back to Danny to listen.
"All this time, it feels like we're not living the lives we were supposed to live. Whenever I write the comic, it feels like I'm living the life I was supposed to have. Like I was meant to be Danny Phantom. For real." Danny explained.
Agreeing to stay silent, Tucker kept a skeptical eyebrow raised, listening and nodding along nonetheless.
"When I write the comic, it doesn't feel like I'm actually coming up with any ideas. It feels more like I'm remembering something I forgot a long time ago. Almost like the idea was there the whole time. Or maybe someone gave it to me." Danny explained.
"Uh, Danny, I'm really trying not to interrupt, but it sounds like you should be talking with a therapist about this stuff instead." Tucker said.
"I feel that way, too." Sam added.
Sam's comment led Tucker to turn towards her, keeping his look of skepticism the entire time.
"Whenever I draw a panel, it feels the same exact way. Like I'm sketching something I already saw before." Sam explained.
"Uh-huh. And, uh, how long exactly have you been feeling this?" Tucker asked.
"Since we started. I never really put the feeling together until Danny explained to me how he felt. But the way he describes it... that's what it feels like. I think there's more to it."
"Maybe it's just how inspiration comes to some people. I don't know, I'm a salesman, not an artist. Look, is there a point to this? Where's all this going exactly?"
"I've been thinking about it alot, but it wasn't until recently that I really started to evaluate it seriously." Danny said.
"What made you think about it more?"
"I went back downstairs. I almost went inside the portal."
"And?"
"I was terrified. I nearly pissed myself, I was so scared of it."
"Then why'd you go down in the first place?"
"It wasn't my choice."
"Uh-huh."
"The point is, that portal, I don't know what it did, but it did something. Messed with my mind and with Sam's mind, too. And I think it did something to your mind, too. We all need to do something together to try to get to the bottom of it."
"Alright. What's your plan?"
"Simple. We all gotta have sex."
The suggestion is as left-field as it could come from the way the conversation unfolded as of now, and it baffles Tucker Foley all the more hearing it out loud.
His eyes twitching in uncertainty, his head shaking in disbelief, his lips moved in the attempt to form a word or sentence, initially unable to do either out of pure shock, until the simple utterance of the a single word and question to confirm that his senses did not fail him.
"What?" Tucker asked.
"I've been reading some of my parents' old books. Each of them gives a different explanation on the human condition, try to make their 'theory of everything' when it comes to people. But they keep coming to conclusions that only fit their own preconceived notions of reality. We need to go a step beyond it." Danny explained.
"And that involves... us having sex?"
"Yes. What does a human body need?"
"Uh, food and water?"
"And sex. Sex is a need just as much as food and water. That's all we ever really did before we, you know, came out of the caves and stuff. So, we fulfill all our needs, and make sure they're all completely satiated and out of our heads, we can put our minds towards exploring."
"Exploring what?"
"Ourselves. The universe outside. Or within. We're gonna find out soon."
Sighing as he lightly shook his head, Tucker attempted to excuse himself from the two...
"Look, guys, no offense, but I got to get your comics out on time." Tucker said.
...only for Sam to grab him by the crotch, making him stop with a grunt, feeling her hand rub the outside of his pants.
"What's the matter, Tucker? You know how many stories are there of you having fun with the teenage fans. What's the difference in doing it with the comic creators who brought you all that action?" Sam asked.
Initially silent and still under the touch of Sam, Tucker willed himself to back free, once again attempting to leave.
"Seriously, you guys are out there. Like, freaking Pluto and beyond at this point. This is getting so damn weird-" Tucker tried to say.
Next was he stopped by Danny, who once again displayed a sincere need for him to stay.
"Tucker, please. I need this. Sam needs this. I know you need this, too." Danny begged.
"Danny, man, I get it, but you can't just ask a dude to have sex with you that easy. I'm not into guys." Tucker said.
Danny responded by kissing Tucker on the lips, doing so as passionately as he would with Sam. Rather than being jealous or upset, Sam found the display arousing and exciting, looking on with a voyueristic eye as she bit her lip and put a finger to her mouth, watching two men embrace one another by the mouth.
When the kiss concluded, Tucker stood silent with confused feelings, looking back at Danny in uncertainty of himself.
"Gender's one of many barriers and taboos we need to break to get where we need to go. At the end of the day, we're all just brains piloting different bodies. It's only a matter of what our brains are doing, and what chemicals they receive, is that we get closer to where we need to." Danny said.
Still confused over Danny's kiss, Tucker found the strength to question the meaning of his speech.
"A-And where's that?" Tucker asked.
"Enlightenment. Nirvana. Heaven. Hell. Oblivion. Peace. Who knows? That's what we're going to find out. But I can't do it without you." Danny said.
At last does Tucker allow his skepticism to lower, giving way to the pressure put upon him, seating himself on the bed.
"Okay. Let's assume I'm on board. All we have to do is eat and have sex? That's it?" Tucker asked.
"And try some of these." Danny said.
Danny followed his response with holding up bags of psilocybin mushrooms, making Tucker's skepticism return once again.
"Oh, great. Magic mushrooms. I mean, I'm not against it, but... why those?" Tucker asked.
"You know Terrence McKenna's Stoned Ape theory?"
"No."
"In a nutshell, the reason why we humans are the way we are, society, language, all the things animals don't have, is because some of our ancestors ate these and opened up bigger worlds. That's how we got to where we are."
"Okay, cool. So why not just the mushrooms and not the sex, too?"
"Like I said, to break down all barriers we know. It's as symbolic as psychological. To break down every little bit of ourselves until there's nothing left, an ego death."
"Sounds trippy."
"C'mon, Tucker. We wouldn't be the first people to do this, and we won't be the last. But we might be the first people to accomplish something."
Once again does pressure get to Tucker, and his soul follows along when his body has already had its interest peaked.
"Alright. But if we're gonna do this, I'm gonna need some pizza first." Tucker said.
Taking a slice of pizza from a box on the bed, Tucker began consuming it, seating himself as Sam positioned herself between him and Danny, rubbing their legs and crotches by the outside of their pants. She is more than eager to get them in the mood for carnal knowledge, and both males succumb to the lead of the female, sinking into their roles with ease.
She also began kissing the two, alternating between Danny and Sam to give them equal attention.
"Mmm, I think I got some of your pepperoni." Sam chuckled.
"Well, you got ahold on my sausage already." Tucker joked.
The group laughed at Tucker's joke, finding levity against the stress building on them with the invocation of their ritual. They make of their shared coitus a moment of magic, a pair of wizards and a witch to tap into the unknown and reach that which a normal human mind cannot reach.
Together, they find the road to magickal thinking, to reach the Ghost Zone yet again.
-
The party between the many populist and leftist politicians comes to an end, and it is time for all members to return to their homes and districts.
On their way out, the colleagues all give their goodbyes to one another, sharing last-minute details and plans for upcoming bills and action to be taken, keeping the American people they serve at the forefront of their minds, just as a public servant is meant to do.
But there is one person that all members of the party all keep their minds on, and give especially warm goodbyes to.
Helga Pataki is the one who received these many kind words and signs of empathy from her elder sister's colleagues; she does not know them personally, but knows that their cares are sincere, and takes their kindness with simple responses to show their care is reciprocated.
With a long ways to get home ahead of them, Olga and Helga began making their way to the car, soon to head home to a state just bordering the one they are in now. Olga takes her time to leave, making sure that every one of her colleagues is up-to-date on the next plan of action to take in the government, merely delaying the inevitable departure they must take.
This gives them just enough pause to eyeball a television, still playing the news, but this time reporting on something of relevance to Helga.
"This just in, there was a high-speed car chase in Detroit with what seemed to be a young man and young woman, with an RV with a tiger-stripe paint job. The RV has been identified as the Comvee, which nature lovers might recognize as the mobile home and main method of transportation of Nigel Thornberry of Nigel Thornberry's Wild World, but the other two assailants have not been identified. Reports show that the second of the assailants seemed to resemble an alien creature of some kind, bearing green skin, purple eyes, and a pair of antennae, where the first was a white male with blonde hair." The news reporter said.
A blurry photograph of the assailant in question was shown on screen, giving but a vague outline of the individual for others to identity. Those who looked at the screen noticed nothing peculiar with the photograph, and all failing to identify the man in the picture at all...
...except one, whose heart skipped a beat and her face lit up upon seeing him again.
"Arnold." Helga said.
Chapter 21: Chapter 19: Close Encounters, Part 2
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 19: CLOSE ENCOUNTERS, PART 2
Several years from now, the Earth will be taken over by an alien race known as Irkens.
An artificial anti-life form that infiltrates, consumes, conquers, and destroys, these creatures have already overtaken endless planets in the galaxy, but only due to oversight and lack of interest has Earth been spared. This changed when a rogue Irken named Zim was sent on a fake assignment by the Tallest, the Irken hierarchs, as a means of exiling him from the Irken Empire, removing him from the greater plan of conquest.
This mistake proved to be the downfall of both the Tallest and Earth alike.
Following an unintended fusion with the remains of Thaddeus 'Curly' Gammelthorpe, better known to the world as 'The Freak', Zim had gained all the powers of The Freak, alongside his intelligence and sadism, becoming a merciless ruler of an all-conquering Empire not seen since Julius Caesar and Rome.
When Earth had already fallen with nearly all humankind subjugated or exterminated, the only option that remained to the resistance against Zim involved sending a lone machine meant to unite the heroes of Earth to stop Zim from gaining his powers, and resist and rebel the incoming invasion before it can overtake the planet.
Dib Membrane is the one who obtained the machine and took on its mission when it could not on its own, successfully bringing a majority of the heroes before the metal messenger to see the fruits of her labor. Arnold Shortman is the one who looked upon the robot with the greatest interest; his belief in the mission as a whole was a passing one, joining only to get the insurance that The Freak would be gone forever.
Standing before the machine at last, he has his definite proof.
"Hey Arnold... It's you." The robot said.
Stepping closer, Arnold stole a more precise and careful inspection, approaching the robot with caution.
"Do you have a name?" Arnold asked.
"Gally." The robot answered.
"Hmm."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Looking at you, I would've guessed you were more of a... 'Jenny'."
"Yeah, I get that a lot. Funnily enough, my mother wanted-"
Then, Gally flinched as the lights in her eyes flickered, blinking soon after, and looking back to Arnold as though she saw him for the first time.
"Hey Arnold... It's you." Gally said.
Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Arnold's question was answered sooner than immediately as Dib spoke up.
"She has some kind of glitch where she forgets everything she's done before leaving her timeline. Sometimes she lasts for an hour, sometimes for a few seconds. I managed to get most of the information out of her in piecemeal." Dib explained.
"Also explains why your information's sketchy. Partially, anyway. Any way to fix her?"
"Not that we've been willing to try. She's basically a mix of human and Irken technology from the future, we don't want to take any unnecessary risks and break her."
"I'll take a look, let me pop the hood." Sam said.
Approaching the back of the suspended Gally, Sam Dullard began opening up the panels covering her circuitry and motors, grabbing nearby screwdrivers and wrenches to prod inside. The experience brought Gally slight discomfort, but Dib fear and panic, fearing the worst for the machine.
"No, no, what are you doing?! She's our only source of information on the future! We can't just go poking around and take her apart! This is a delicate piece of machinery that we have to be careful with-" Dib began to yell.
Gally then shot up with another glitch, followed with a return to homeostasis as she began looking around, inspecting her environment with analytical curiosity, and some of it also pointed inward. Having completed his job, Sam replaced her paneling, patting his hands once completed.
"How did you do that? Some of our best scientists at Membrane Labs were working on her for weeks." Dib said.
"Oh, she had a short circuit between her RAM and power source. I just reconnected it." Sam explained.
"You just...? How did you know that was the problem?"
"I just took a look and saw it. I'm good with computers like that. You give me another 5 minutes, I can get her to play Doom."
Having had enough time to collect herself, Gally returned her attention to the people before her, moving back to Arnold.
"Ah, sorry about that. As I was saying, my mother thought I should be named Jenny, but figured there was something about me that just didn't quite fit the name, and thought Gally was a-" Gally began to explain.
"Nevermind that. I have some questions for you, and I need them answered." Arnold interrupted.
"Anything you need, sir."
"Who sent you?"
"You did. Did Dib not explain the situation to you?"
"He did. But I don't trust him. I want to hear it from your mouth to confirm it."
"I can assure you, sir, he's fully aware of the stakes and takes it seriously. You should listen to him like you would listen to me. He's also had experience with the Irkens firsthand before anyone else."
"Why do you keep calling me 'sir'?"
"You were the leader of the Freemen in the future. When the Irken Empire took over, you were one of the first to step forward and lead the human resistance against the invasion. Your reputation let you take over the role fairly quickly and gain more sway among those still fighting. You are, after all, the Green Eye."
Still unamused by the former name he went by, Arnold looked to the smiling faces of Lincoln and Nigel, scoffing off their supportive looks in dismissal.
Just before getting any further answers out of the gynoid from the future, the doorbell to the Membrane household rang.
"DIB! SOMEONE'S AT THE DOOR!" Gaz called.
"I'M BUSY, GAZ, YOU GET IT!" Dib called.
"I'M BUSY EATING PIZZA AND PLAYING VAMPIRE PIGGY HUNTER 7!"
"Oh, that's the best one in the series." Lincoln added.
Grunting in frustration, Dib excused himself to see to the visitor.
"Excuse me for a minute." Dib groaned.
Walking to the front door, Dib opened it to find Penny Tabootie and her two children, Carol and Carlos, accompanying her. The arrival of the wife of one of his accrued teammates brings him surprise, but nonetheless, Dib maintained his attempt at a serious and professional façade, maintaining his sense of superiority.
"Ah, Mrs. Tabootie. You'll be glad to know that you're husband's-" Dib began to say.
Paying no mind to Dib nor anything he had to say, Penny walked past him, with Carol and Carlos paying even less mind to him as they followed their mother.
"Well, won't you come in?" Dib snarked.
"Where's Rudy?" Penny asked.
"He's in the garage. We're in the middle of something-"
Once again ignoring Dib, Penny marched straight to the garage, leaving the head of the house ignored him, dead set on her mission to find her husband.
While following their mother, Carol and Carlos passed by the room that held Tak in her prison. The former made not even a passing glance at the alien, not noticing her at all, but Carlos took one glimpse, soon stopping to take a full look at her. In response, the imprisoned Tak looked back at Carlos, gazing back at him in a blank manner.
The gaze the two shared is brief, barely enough to last a few seconds, but it is enough to stir a feeling in Carlos he never before had; a curiosity unlike any other he has felt, a desire to know more, a hunger for all knowledge on this one alien creature that has caught his eye like nothing else.
Regardless of his feelings for now, the marching of his mother beckons him to follow, and he must leave his new curiosity for the moment.
"Rudolph Bartholomew Tabootie!" Penny called.
The siren scream of the angry wife brought the husband to full attention, and those he accompanied looking to the direction of the scorned spouse in fear for their teammate. Marching into the garage with a look on her face of anger and sadness, Rudy, faced to confront with her, looked back at her with a look of guilt and shame.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't just sit by and do nothing." Rudy apologized.
The sound of a hard slap is immediately what followed, made with the angered hand of Penny striking Rudy in the face. Taking the slap in silent acceptance of his shame, the display of violence was noted well by all else in the room, especially Carol and Carlos, witnessing an act of violence between their parents.
In stark contrast, the slap was then followed by a series of incessant kisses, starting with Penny making her first ones on Rudy's lips, taking deep and loving tastes of him, while moving on to the rest of his face in sheer desperation. The change in approach baffles the children as they witnessed it, and the new approach is so intense that even the adults grow uncomfortable with it.
"Oh, my, human sexuality sure is a finicky thing, isn't it, dearie?" Nigel asked.
Finally, Penny seemed to get her fill of kisses, grabbing onto Rudy in a hug and holding him as she caught her breath.
"Don't you ever do that again, Rudy. Don't you dare just leave like that." Penny cried.
"I'm sorry, Penny. I'm sorry." Rudy said.
Rudy silently hugged Penny as she tried to calm herself, leading Carol and Carlos' attention to lean towards Gally. Walking up to the robot, the children began inspecting her, all while the machine herself began inspecting the children back, smiling as she recognized them.
"Oh, you must be Carol and Carlos Tabootie." Gally said.
Hearing her children's names spoken by the robot, Penny ran up towards them and pulled them away from Gally, holding them in a protective manner.
"Kids, keep away from that thing!" Penny panicked.
"No, no, Penny, it's okay. This is the robot from the future Dib was talking about." Rudy explained.
Looking back at Gally, Penny also received a kind look from the robot as well, greeting her just as cheerfully.
"And you must be Penny Tabootie. You're even more beautiful in person than you are in my records." Gally said.
"In your records...?" Penny asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I regret to inform you that you didn't make it in the Irken invasion. But that's okay! Everyone's here now to make sure that doesn't happen, including your husband."
Despite the happy reassurance that Gally offered, it proved no help on Penny, who fearfully began to shudder at the thought of her own doom.
"Okay..." Penny moaned.
"It's alright, Penny. Here, let's get you a chair." Rudy said.
Then, the doorbell rang a second time, gaining the attention of everyone in the house once again.
"DIB! IT'S THE DOOR AGAIN!" Gaz called.
"Ugh... Hang on a minute." Dib groaned.
Once again stepping to the door, Dib opened it to find the unexpected guests of Stella Zhau and Ronnie Anne Santiago, leading him to raise an eyebrow.
"Um... Can I help you girls?" Dib asked.
"No, we're here for Lincoln. One side, Redditor." Ronnie Anne said.
Rudely pushing Dib aside, Ronnie Anne moved past him in her search of Lincoln, with Stella politely stepping past him.
"Excuse me." Stella said.
Despite the more kind approach of Stella, having yet another unexpected houseguest step past him left him feeling dejected and annoyed.
"Am I really this irrelevant?" Dib thought aloud.
"Yes, you are." Gaz answered.
"That was a rhetorical question, Gaz."
"Meaning?"
"It means you don't answer it."
"Well, I just did."
Dib groaned once again, heading to the garage after his two new houseguests.
Ronnie Anne shows no care as she stepped into the garage, presenting herself as the life of the party as all eyes laid on her. Stella made a normal entrance into the garage, but nonetheless gaining the attention of the others, questioning the identity of the two new guests that joined them.
Except for the Loud family, with Lincoln appearing excited yet nervous at their appearance.
"Hey, Lincoln." Ronnie Anne and Stella said in unison.
"Stella? Ronnie Anne? What are you guys doing here?" Lincoln asked.
"We came here for you, Linc. Saw you and all those other guys on TV chasing down that alien. Thought you could use some help." Stella answered.
"But how'd you know where to find me? And aren't you both grounded?"
"We had to fly over the city, listen out for your voice, x-ray vision every house and building in the area-" Ronnie Anne began to answer.
"Illegally spying on other people." Stella interrupted.
"-until we found you at this place."
"Well, this happens to be the home of Professor Membrane. This is-" Lincoln began to say.
"Dib Membrane, his son, and the goth girl on the couch is Gaz. We know. We also know the rest, no need for introductions. Including the Green Eye."
"Wh-? How did you know all that? Did you guys get mind-reading powers all of a sudden?"
"No. Everybody here's famous enough, and we know the Green Eye... well, the same way you know."
"Oh, right."
"Uh, you want to introduce us to your girlfriends, kid?" Arnold asked.
"'Girlfriends'? They're not- I mean, not yet- That is, they... Uh..."
"I'm Ronnie Anne, the bleeding-heart liberal's Stella. We're kind of famous for being his girlfriends. You don't know us?"
"Actually, no. I was in a jungle for the past year or so."
"Well, we were in the news not too long ago, no big deal."
"Except that you and I had a fight all across Royal Woods butt-booty naked." Stella added.
"Yeah, because you didn't like that I gave Linc his first BJ."
"Against his consent, during the Pledge of Allegiance, no less."
"So? Don't you lefties sit down for it anyway?"
"Girls, girls, can we please not do this?!" Lincoln groaned.
"Wait a second... You got a blowjob during the Pledge of Allegiance?" Otto asked.
"Ugh... While I was giving the Pledge of Allegiance."
Laughing in amusement, Otto raised his hand to call for Lincoln to high-five him.
"Dude, that is legendary. Gimmie five!" Otto cheered.
None in the room gave any reaction to Otto's congratulation except for disappointed stares, with Twister and Sam shaking their heads and resting their faces in their hands. Reggie in particular took offense to her brother's childishness, slapping him upside the head and subsequently crossing her arms, making Otto lower his hand and frown.
"Ow." Otto said.
"Alright, fine. We have a few extras. That's good, we need it. But I don't suppose we have any more surprises before we try to continue?" Dib asked.
"Yeah. You can come out of hiding now." Arnold said.
Before Dib could question Arnold's order, a figure hung down from the ceiling, dropping down to land on the floor. The figure stood tall to show himself clad in a knight's armor all in white, prompting caution and vigilance from the others, all standing ready for battle as he stood before them.
But rather than make any attacks towards the others, the figure removed his helmet, revealing himself to be Buckley Lloyd.
"Hey Arnold." Buckley greeted.
"And who is this?" Dib asked.
"Buckley Lloyd. Your dad's boss." Arnold answered.
"O-Oh. Really?"
"And let me guess: You came to investigate after the news reported on us, too?"
"That, and I keep a close eye on my people anyway. Been tracking this whole 'Irken invasion' thing for awhile. I figured it was just a rich weird kid with too much time on his hands, but I'm convinced now after seeing what I've seen for myself."
"Good for you. Speaking of close eyes, if he's going to stay, you should all keep one on him. He's a loose cannon waiting to fire."
"I don't suppose it would mean anything to say things have changed, Arnold?"
"No. The new costume isn't convincing me at all, Valiance. I still remember what you did. Even if the evidence for it's gone."
"I lost myself then. We were all getting lost. But I tried my best to change myself. It's not 'Valiance' anymore. It's 'Vindicator'. You look me up, you'll find that I do things much differently. In your honor."
The smallest of glimpses into Buckley's mind can tell Arnold that his response is truthful, and he does take more than a small glimpse, but he ultimately does not care. Looking at Buckley with a cautious eye, sending a nonverbal warning within it, Arnold returned to Gally to see to his primary concerns.
"Okay, then. We sure that we've got all the extra members of the group? No more surprises?" Dib asked.
"I thought you were the one who wanted bigger numbers on our side, Dib." Arnold said.
"With the exception of Gerald, I just followed the robot's instructions. I avoided any unknown factors that I didn't know what to do with."
Taking a look at Otto, Arnold saw him raise 5 fingers, counting again the additions made to the team.
"Then let's take care of any other unknown factors in this scenario. Gally, do you have any video footage or archives of your future?" Arnold asked.
"Yes, sir. I was given extensive footage to provide proof." Gally answered.
"What about files on Irkens themselves?"
"We could never get one alive for long enough to get any useful information."
"Alright. Can you project for us the footage you have on hand? I want us all to see what we're dealing with."
"Gladly, sir."
The group began seating themselves down in front of Gally, allowing her to project the footage she had of the future. Lana and Lola turned off the lights to the garage and pulled down a tarp to project onto, allowing the film to be played, seating themselves back with the rest of the family to watch.
All sit by and wait for the proof to be seen, but none are ready to see nor fully grasp what will be shown.
-
Vlad Masters is one of the most powerful people on planet Earth.
His supreme power comes not from his vast wealth, vast as it may be, but instead from his deep knowledge of the mystic and the arcane. This knowledge helps him to expand the powers and abilities of his ghost form, his perceptive self that he can transform into at any time and place, swapping his consciousness from a physical body of flesh to that of one made strictly of ectoplasm and ideas.
In a past life, he had squandered this ability of his own. More interested in pursuing wealth and other fortunes, as well as coveting the wife of another man, he had never taken the time to know the true potential that he held in his soul, nor possessed the will to use it for good.
Now, in his current life, he has the will to do good, and has taken the time to know himself and his abilities.
He is not alone in his new mission; accompanying him is a young woman once deceased and moved on, brought back by science and magic combined. Her name is Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, one of the last survivors of Hillwood, and a woman now without a past or future, depending on Vlad for a present.
The current moment brings her boredom as she stepped through the mansion of Vlad Masters, finding the owner of the mansion and her caretaker in a room to himself. She gave him but a passing glance, though that one glance is enough to see an image of him sitting on the floor, interacting with something laid on it.
Stepping back to the door, Rhonda looked again to carefully inspect what had his current attention, finding several items related to magic and esotericism laid out before him, such as a sword, disc, wand, and chalice, all laid out strategically as if meant to invoke a specific emotion or mindset.
Though intensely focused on the seemingly invisible task at hand, Vlad nonetheless noticed Rhonda, looking up to greet her.
"Hello, Rhonda." Vlad said.
"Hey, boss. Whatcha doing?" Rhonda asked.
"A little magic. All part of our second job."
"I never understood that weird stuff you keep doing. I'm not complaining or anything, whatever gets the job done for you."
"I can show you, if you like. Would you like to take a seat?"
Rhonda stepped forward to Vlad, sitting cross-legged before him, observing the several magical items laid before him.
"I remember playing with a Oujia board with Nadine once, but this is way above my pay grade. I don't even know what half this stuff is." Rhonda snarked.
"How does it make you feel?" Vlad asked.
"I wouldn't know. Like I said, I don't even know what it is."
"So, it gives you a mysterious vibe, as if these items possess an unfamiliarity that invokes a feeling of uncertainty in you?"
"I... guess so."
"Then they're doing their job. You see, Rhonda, the key to magic is this: It's not about making things happen for real, not about pulling rabbits out of hats or making assistants disappear or sawing them in half. That's just cheap Vegas tricks. The trick is to make you believe in it. It's not something you believe in by having it proven to you, but instead by having it invoke a feeling in you. Making you have an experience."
"Sounds more like art than magic to me."
"They're one in the same. That's the part everyone misses."
Rhonda raised an eyebrow, keeping a skeptical face, but maintaining interest in Vlad's explanations nonetheless.
"Do you know what the purpose of art is, Rhonda?" Vlad asked.
"To entertain people?" Rhonda guessed.
"Nope. The purpose of art is to use it to explore ourselves. We create paintings, music, movies, et cetera, all to conjure images and sounds that invoke certain emotions in us. Images and sounds that can't happen naturally, so we create something new in order to explore our minds and learn about or even create new emotions. Cause plus effect equals experience. Magic is just one of the ways we can do it, by conjuring up images in our minds. That's part of why they call it the 'dark arts'."
"Sounds a glorified way of just using your imagination."
"Heh. That's basically it, too."
"You don't take much offense to crude descriptions of your little rituals."
"Well, you've got to learn to laugh at yourself a bit. Not all sorcerers and magicians are the 'high and mighty' types that take themselves too seriously, nobody likes that."
"How exactly does it help you?"
"My ghost form is an extension of myself. My perceptive self. My mind. By expanding my mind, learning new schools of thought and emotions, I can master my own powers all the better."
"You don't think science would be a better way to do it?"
"I do use science, but it only gets half of the picture. Science deals in logic and reason. When it comes to the human mind, it's not always about logic and reason, and it often defies it. When dealing with that which exists outside the rational, you have to use means that are irrational. It turns out most people aren't as rational as we like to think."
"Fair enough. That thing supposed to be a magic wand?"
"It is. Plus my sword and chalice, one meant for holding the mystery within, and the other to penetrate the mystery and explore."
"Right, 'penetrate and explore' a 'mysterious chalice', there's obviously no Freudian undertones there... or are there?"
"Now you're catching on. There is indeed a sexual aspect to it, too, and I don't just mean those witchcraft teenage cults that just get together for orgies now and then. Sex is one of the most foundational aspects of life itself, and certainly also part of being human. We just happen to be one of the few that puts drama and thought into it, all thanks to our ancestors eating magic mushrooms so many years ago."
"Terrence McKenna's 'Stoned Ape' Theory, I read about that. I'm surprised you didn't go straight to Carl Jung, a lot of the mystic types love him, too."
"Of course we do. He wasn't afraid to bring god into the equation."
"So, now you're a believer in god?"
"That depends on how you define 'god'. Do I believe in one single being or several that created the universe, including this planet, specifically tuning humans to worship them? No, that's ridiculous. But what about a more archetypal idea? A character meant to represent a certain idea or set of ideas? To a certain extent, yes. We've been doing that as humans since we could start thinking, again, back to when we first started eating psilocybin mushrooms. A lot of people make the mistake of thinking these gods are objectively real, but they aren't. Just like I mentioned, the idea of magic is, not to prove that something objectively exists, but just to convince you that it does. So that when you do believe in a god or gods, it doesn't matter whether those gods objectively exist or not. Just by virtue of the fact that you believe it, then they just might as well exist."
"In other words, you make people believe in a lie to do what you want. So, what, then? The idea's to... lie to yourself to make you believe a certain thing?"
"Again, you catch on quick. That's more or less the idea. But it's not as simple as something being a 'lie' or not. In the realm of philosophy, there is no real such thing as a 'lie' or an 'untruth'. If you really want to get technical, if you consider anything that's not objectively real to be a lie, then literally everything in the realm of art, philosophy, language, or the humanities is a lie."
"You're telling me none of the humanities are real?"
"Not objectively real. Because we believe they are, then they perceptively, they practically, they effectively do exist. The languages we speak aren't objectively real. We make sounds with our throats, we hear them with our ears, and our brains process them, but, at the end of the day, they're just noises we make. We just perceive the languages we speak and interpret them to mean something. Put that on the other foot, you listen to a language you don't speak, then it just sounds like nonsense. Expand that logic to the rest of perceptive reality; the philosophies we create by talking out and thinking through, perceiving new thoughts that we hallucinate into existence. Hell, the original philosophers in ancient Greece and the lot were basically just bullshitters and smack-talkers, just making whatever up, but that managed to build the foundations on how we created our belief systems and moral codes."
"Very deep stuff. So how does playing with a few toys on the floor help get to that conclusion?"
"Simple. Our minds work by perceiving and interpreting sensory input to see how we react to them. Just like in science, we experiment and try new things to see what results we get, making ourselves the test subjects. Here, we just simply work by controlling what sensory input we give ourselves, and, right now, I'm using mine to expand my own mind. It's all matter of getting your brain chemistry to respond to what you feed it."
"Sounds a bit more like some weird form of psychiatry to me."
"Psychiatry's a matter of taking a mind perceived as abnormal and making it normal. Well-intended, but it misses a lot of the bigger picture of the universe itself, and unfortunately works at the service of the capitalist system we live in. And I thrive well in, I must confess."
"Sound like you're saying it's good to be mentally ill."
"It's all in how you define mentally ill. Sure, we can all agree that a deranged psychopath who shoots up a school isn't a good thing, but what about Vincent Van Gogh? That man suffered a lot of mental illness, but he produced some of the greatest works of art ever made. His mind worked differently, it perceived things differently than ours, and it expanded the collective consciousness to tread new ground. He had a positive effect on the world with how he perceived the world. Hopefully, I can do the same by expanding my perceptions of the world, but in my own manner."
The concepts explained to Rhonda are far above anything she had previously learned during her incomplete high school education, nor anything that she would have learned had she finished said education or graduated to any college or university. Vlad Masters has shared but an elementary explanation of the arcane and magic, giving a taste of what else lays in the human mind.
"Let's assume I bought most of your arguments so far. You're still using a lot of stuff that's based in religions and other spiritual stuff. Didn't you tell me it's basically fake?" Rhonda asked.
"Not 'basically fake'. Just perceptively real and not objectively real. These are all systems of beliefs and mindsets meant to get you to a certain place, what some might call transcending or going to other wavelengths. The realm of perceptive reality is diverse and far-reaching, as wide as the human experience itself, because it is the human experience. Just think of them less as certain dogmatic doctrines, some though they may have been intended as such, and more as road maps to certain parts of the human mind." Vlad explained.
"So you're basically... what? Trying to learn every human thought that has to do with gods and spirituality to become a stronger ghost?"
"That's the plan. It doesn't just work on someone like me, you know. It can also help in understanding one's self as well, if nothing else for a little self-improvement. You should try it, I've got several books on it."
"Yeah, I'll think about it. But... is there any, say, wrong way to do what you're doing?"
"Technically speaking, no. The idea of spirituality is all about self-discovery and exploring new places. However, there are a lot of places that one might not necessarily want to seek out or go, much less be prepared for. Chaos Magick, for instance, focuses less on systems and more on the sheer focus of the act itself. But the road maps do exist for a reason; they were made by people who've been to the outer limits and knew how to get there, but, more importantly, find their way back. More often than not, those paths tend to interact and overlap, such as the kabbalah and tarot. You can try things your own way... but you do so at your own risk."
-
Evolution is the strongest tool that life uses to maintain itself.
The fundementals of life are food and reproduction, the former used to sustain the life of a single creature, and the latter to make sure more of said creature's species will live. Human beings possess great hunger and lust to fuel in them a conquering nature to overtake all around them, making them the dominant species of this planet we call Earth.
Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, and Tucker Foley are three such members of this species, and they are running an experiment.
Danny has seen glimpses of another timeline, another life that he believes he has lived, and he is attempting to reach it once again, this time taking his friends along the journey. Together, they have joined in a decadent orgy of eating and sex of Imperial Rome proportions, seeing that all of the needs of the body are completely satiated and quenched.
They have done a more than efficient job at seeing to this basic needs met, and prepare for the final step in the journey.
"Wait, wait, guys. I think we're ready." Danny said.
"Ready for what, man?" Tucker asked.
Danny reached away from his bed and came back with a bag of dried psilocybin mushrooms, gaining intrigued looks from his bedmates.
"For this." Danny said.
"Took you long enough to get to it, Danny-boy." Sam Manson chuckled.
Digging the magic mushrooms out from the bag, Danny, Sam, and Tucker began consuming them, ingesting the hallucinogenic fungi to allow it to take effect on their minds. While waiting for the mushrooms to be digested and work, the trio resumed their bisexual consummations, drowning one another in each other's flesh and scent.
Having continued the excessive debauchery for some hour or two now, they have had more than enough of sustenance and reproduction to put the reptilian mind to rest, flooding their own brains with all manners of pleasing chemicals that make them at peace and content.
It is a mindset that other drugs can be used to achieve, but the drug they have chosen to consume is not meant for the purpose of simply finding content; it is not a narcotic or opiate meant to numb the pain of life. Instead, it is meant to alter perceptions and awaken create living dreams that allow a new perspective of the world.
Or, in some cases, as they will all soon find out, take them to other worlds.
-
Back with Vlad and Rhonda...
"You wanna give it a try?" Vlad asked.
Rhonda presented an apathy towards the suggestion, clouding her discomfort with disinterest.
"I don't know, Vlad. It all looks like a bunch of nonsense to me." Rhonda said.
"If that's what you believe it is, then it won't do anything for you, and you've got nothing to be afraid of." Vlad answered.
"Then what if I did?"
"Then it does what it's meant to do: Take you somewhere else."
"I still don't know. Looks like a bunch of hoodoo to me."
"I guarantee that you'll find something a lot more in yourself than you knew you had if you do."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Rhonda, I'm going to be blunt with you: I know what you do when you go off after work. I know how you have a hard time sleeping, so you spend your time training to let off some steam. All those outlets are just a stop-gap for what you're feeling, a distraction to get away from what you feel. You're not going to solve the problem unless you solve it head-on."
"If I want help, I'll go to therapy, with someone qualified to talk about this kind of stuff."
"You need help a lot more than you want it. Besides, a therapist only knows the 'how's and 'why's of a human mind. They can only work within its logic. I've literally seen the human soul inside and out, objectively and perceptively, and I can reach it in a way that no one else can."
"Because you can do some magic tricks."
"Because the person who knows my soul the best is me. This is just how I manage to reach it. The question is: Do you know yourself as well as you think you do?"
Rhonda sat back down with an expression carrying determined anger, not wishing to have her knowledge of herself doubted.
"If I have to get naked, I'm bailing." Rhonda said.
"No need for that. That's only if you want to conjure a fertility or sex god or goddess. This is just a little experience meant to turn your mind towards higher perceptions."
Vlad began the ritual by lighting a scented candle, adding a source of light and a pleasant fragrance in the room.
"Tell me, Rhonda, do you know what the fourth dimension is?" Vlad asked.
"Time." Rhonda answered.
"Very good. What about the fifth dimension?"
"I have no idea."
"Consciousness."
"Consciousness?"
"Time is a concept that can be perceived differently without any true constant. Some creatures might perceive it slower, able to take in all the events and motions of life in full, some might perceive it faster, seeing life go by so fast they might not be able to perceive the small specks of life that exist in the ether. Humans ourselves can even alter our perceptions of time, able to speed it up or slow it down with the right aids."
"Like drugs?"
"That can work. But it's more effective to learn how to control it ourselves. I want you to do something for me, Rhonda. I want you to close your eyes and concentrate. Control your breathing to a steady pace."
Though a disbeliever in Vlad's ritual, Rhonda complied with it nonetheless, closing her eyes and meditating.
"Now, I want you to sense your body. Let your mind explore it, but don't move any part of yourself. Focus on the inner workings of your body. Think about your muscles and how they move your limbs and appendages, how your bones stay firm and solid to keep you upright, how your organs all serve different functions to keep you alive and working, how your tissue connects it all together, how your skin keeps it all secured inside, and how your blood rushes to move nutrients to keep it all functional. Let your consciousness make yourself completely aware of yourself. Indulge in your sense of proprioception." Vlad instructed.
Taking his directions, Rhonda slowly eased deeper into her meditation, feeling her skepticism dwindle as he self-awareness increased.
"Now that you can feel all parts of your body, I want you to think about every action it's taken, and what it's going to take. Think about all the times you've eaten or drank something, how your body processed it. How it gained and loss mass, every secretion it's made, every cell it's destroyed and rebuilt. Now, think about all the ways that it could have done those processes differently. How just one extra skin cell being shed could have led to a car crash on your way to school. How if you'd never gotten that papercut, maybe your parents would've been persuaded to buy you a puppy. Look past the butterfly effect and see the man behind the curtain that controls those events, how he sways things in his direction. See the history of yourself in full, and all the things that could have or would have or should have been." Vlad instructed.
Rhonda fell even deeper into a trance, barely even acknowledging his directions at all. It had seemed as though her very soul had left her body due to his hypnotic suggestions, his crash-course into magic succeeding more than fully by bringing Rhonda to the edge of reality as he has discovered it.
It seemed as though she was no longer present on Earth, begging the question as to where she was now.
"Now, open your eyes and see." Vlad instructed.
And, hearing his call, Rhonda did.
-
Back between Danny, Sam, and Tucker...
The night for the threesome no longer takes place in the here and now of the world as it is now, but returns once again to a time that once was, and no longer is.
The scene they exist in now is the inauguration of president-elect Tucker Foley, who approached the podium with a victorious smile as he made his first steps towards being the commander-in-chief of the United States of America. Applause is heard from every corner of the room, supporting the new president on his electoral victory.
At the front-row seats of the inauguration are Danny, Sam, and the rest of the Fenton family, all smiling with pride as they watched their oldest friend step up.
"Millions of dollars towards his PACs we spent to help get him over the edge." Sam quipped.
"Well worth it. He was a great mayor, he's gonna be an even better president." Danny said.
"Oh, and you better believe it's worth the money, baby. We're getting all kinds of tax breaks and subsidies after this!" Jack cheered.
"Yes, honey, but it's all in the service of defending the Earth from ghosts, don't forget." Maddie reminded.
"I know, I know, just looking forward to our new toys, is all."
Once at the podium, Tucker placed his hand up as he prepared to take his presidential vow, standing before the chief justice.
"I do solemnly swear..." The chief justice recited.
"I do solemnly swear..." Tucker repeated.
"...that I will faithfully..."
"...that I will faithfully..."
Then, in defiance of logic and all things reasonable, the setting changed to that of a U.S. Capitol building that looked substantially different from that of how it was before, and it became not Tucker Foley who was taking the Oath of Office, but instead Sam Manson, standing before a different chief justice.
"...execute the Office..." The chief justice recited.
"...execute the Office..." Sam repeated.
Once again did the setting change, and it now became Danny Phantom taking a different form of Oath of Office. The Capitol building no longer looked as it did before or after its change, but instead with lines of armed soldiers, with several audience members looking on the inauguration in fear.
"...of Supreme Leader of the Planet Earth..." The chief justice recited.
"...of Supreme Leader of the Planet Earth..." Danny Phantom repeated.
And again did the setting change, this time showing a normal-looking Capitol building. The difference now, however, laid in that its occupants all consisted of squid-like creatures bearing no resemblance to humanity, and the audience comprised of deathly-looking humanoid sea creatures, with the one taking the Oath of Office being a squid-like facsimile of Tucker Foley.
"[...and will, to the best of my ability...]" The chief justice recited in an alien language.
"[...and will, to the best of my ability...]" Tucker repeated in an alien language.
Now, the setting turned to that of another Capitol building, with the audience being predominantly black, with the exception of Tucker Foley, who now was Caucasian.
"...preserve, protect and defend..." The chief justice recited.
"...preserve, protect, and defend..." Tucker repeated.
The setting then became yet another Capitol building, with the audience dressed in attire more befitting of the 1940s or 1950s than the modern day. It was once again Danny Phantom who took the Oath, his costume and hairstyle much different than normally known, with a friendly smile on his face as he took the Oath.
"...the Constitution of the United States..." The chief justice recited.
"...the Constitution of the United States..." Danny Phantom repeated.
And yet again did the setting change to a Capitol building filled with babies, the room all messy in a manner of an unkept playroom, with Tucker again on the stand, but both him and the chief justice being infants, nonetheless standing upright and communicating as adults.
"...so help me Bob." The chief justice recited.
"...so help me Bob." Tucker repeated.
-
Back with Vlad and Rhonda...
Opening her eyes, Rhonda no longer found herself in Vlad's mansion nor even the physical world, but instead a place that defied description. If one were to dare bring any visual image to where she was, it would resemble a multitude of images clashed together, all seeming to carry a silhouette in between it all that shared a core similarity, but the rest far too indiscernible to paint a clear picture.
Around her also flew several streams of energy and forces that resembled something between flying ribbons and jellyfish, dancing about the anarchic surroundings in a manner that resembled joy. Unlike the surroundings, these... no, not creatures, but things, held a much more consistent form, making their appearance in this place seem more out-of-place, as though they were pasted atop it.
The incomprehensible madness is enough to make Rhonda scream, but a comforting hand took her by her own, looking up to see it belonged to Vlad.
"Vlad, where are we?!" Rhonda panicked.
"Rhonda... welcome to the multiverse." Vlad said.
Carrying Rhonda along in flight as their esoteric forms traversed the landscape, taking a calm, scenic tour that brought her anxieties down. The guide to bring her across the existential plane allowed her a more steady approach to witnessing the madness before her, able now to see what passes as a more clear and sane view to the world she entered.
Atop of seeing the collages and streams, also appearing were mirrored and fractal zones in the realm, as well as geometric shapes that defied mathematical and physical properties, such as Moebius strips and Penrose stairs, and even areas of black and pink that her human consciousness could not yet comprehend.
"This is the multiverse?" Rhonda asked.
"Time is the multiverse. You're seeing time in its all here. Time doesn't work in a simple line as most people think. It's an endless group effort and collaboration of all sorts of factors metaphysical and beyond. Every breath you take, every move you make, every step you take, that all leads to another universe and timeline, down the very nanosecond and beneath even that. It takes a lot of effort to see outside of it, see all the different decisions that could have been made, how some decisions can be so different yet lead to the same result, how some decisions could be the exact same yet lead to different outcomes, and how some points can even have a nexus when they're so far apart." Vlad explained.
"So... all our decisions don't mean anything? They're all just noise and pictures in this place?"
"We give everything we do meaning. This place is defined by our meanings. It's what makes us unique in the grand perspective of all Creation. Even though there are so many similarities between us, both our other selves and everyone else, it is every single action we take that makes us unique."
"Then we still have the free will."
"Free will and predestination are the same. You are always free to make the decisions you make, but you will always be influenced by your surroundings to make the choices you make. But there still exist possibilities to explore in you and around you. Creation is all about possibilities."
"Then how do I truly become independent, unique, and special in the light of all this... this madness?"
"That's the trick. You already do just by being you."
-
Back between Danny, Sam, and Tucker...
The sexual excess combined with hallucinogens make for vivid pictures in the altered perceptions of their brains, but the three young adults all have different reactions.
Danny stayed nearly comatose throughout the trip, as though analyzing and searching for more as he mentally reached out.
Sam squirmed and moved about in pleasure, her feelings towards the trip being purely those of hedonism, enjoying the trip for the sake of it.
Tucker, conversely, handled the trip with confusion and rejection, unwilling to let himself be in the moment. His refusal to accept the other realities as exposed to him led him to toss and turn his head, groaning like a child having a nightmare, and his experience becoming not too far off from said analogy.
The fear and loathing brought him out of the magical mindset and waking with terror, making Danny and Sam return as well while looking to him in concern.
"Tucker? You okay?" Sam moaned.
"Tuck? You alright?" Danny asked.
"Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god... What the hell was that?!" Tucker panicked.
"That was the trip, Tucker. You saw it, right? You saw what I was trying to show you. You can see how everything here's so off now, right?"
"No, screw it, man, that was all wrong, that was stupid, this was such a stupid idea, I can't believe I let you talk me into this!"
Getting out of the bed with haste, Tucker grabbed his clothes and quickly began putting them on, making for the door as he got himself dressed again.
"You guys do whatever weird shit you want, man. I'm going home." Tucker groaned.
Slamming the door as he departed, Tucker's reaction prompted Danny to begin getting out of bed after him, but Sam laid a hand on his chest, pulling him back in.
"Don't worry about him, babe." Sam said.
"Tucker's in trouble, Sam, we can't just-" Danny tried to say.
"He'll be fine, he just had a bad trip. Come lay with me and stay in the trip. Stay in the dream with me."
What little will Danny had to get up and go after Tucker withered away as Sam pulled him back into the bed, gently caressing his face with her hands. Danny looked on with disappointed concern, leading Sam to kiss him and put her fingers in his mouth, invoking an oral fixative response to surround his senses.
"Just stay with me, Danny. Stay in the dream. Keep dreaming it with me. Just stay here." Sam said.
Surrendering to Sam's siren calls, Danny remained in bed and closed his eyes, letting the excesses take over his mind once again. Further contributing to them, Sam kissed his lips, nuzzling her face against his as they began returning to their state of magical thinking and higher perceptions.
The moment is intoxicating and drowns away all senses, bringing both Danny and Sam to the same low point.
"Just keep dreaming with me..." Sam moaned.
-
Back with Vlad and Rhonda...
The experience ended with a feeling of a dramatic pulse in the minds of Vlad and Rhonda, with the latter responding with a gasp due to her lack of experience in the matters of the esoteric. Panting to catch her breath, both maintained their seated postures, with Vlad keeping an assuring eye on Rhonda.
"Whoa..." Rhonda sighed.
"That's right. 'Whoa'. That's what I see when I concentrate on my rituals. That's how I keep honing and expanding my powers." Vlad said.
Rhonda's attempts to catch her breath slowed, making her grasp on the present reality all the smoother and less painful.
"Alright, boss. You and your magic stuff just got a whole lot more respect from me. That was trippy." Rhonda said.
"You're welcome to come back and indulge in it anytime you want. You'll learn a lot more and find the experience very enriching." Vlad said.
"Once was enough for me for now. But... thanks for it. I can... I don't know what it is... I feel like I learned something, but I can't tell you what it is."
"That's part of the fun. You keep thinking on it and you'll figure it out."
Vlad licked his fingers and snuffed out the flame of the candle, bringing the session to an end.
"I think that's enough for both of us. You'd better get some sleep. Big meeting with the board of directors tomorrow. Make sure my presentation's ready for the morning, please." Vlad smiled.
"With or without the aspirin?" Rhonda joked.
"Without. I'm having martinis, you shouldn't mix painkillers with alcohol."
A small laugh was shared by the two, with Rhonda getting up to her duties before bed, and Vlad clearing away his items to be placed away.
-
Humans have often imagined how their species would end.
Whether the curiosity conjures nightmares of nuclear annihilation or climate change, most of these images have been made for the purpose of warning themselves and each other, trying to avoid a future in which they no longer exist; no longer the dominant species of the Earth.
But such images are only fantasy, not reality. A machine from the future named Gally has been sent to show the reality that waits for the planet, meant as a warning to its intended audience to show what awaits them, in the hopes that they will be able to put a stop to it.
The audience all expects frightening images, but what they saw is beyond even their worst comprehensions.
The humans can do nothing but shudder in fear at the sight of the fellow members of their species being slaughtered, tortured, and enslaved so cruelly, with many crying over the lives lost and lack of empathy shown to even the most vulnerable of their own kind.
The Loud children in particular were not even able to stomach the entire footage, turning to their parents and covering their eyes, with even Lynn Sr. and Rita doing the same. Children are seen dying the most in the footage they see, with Irkens displaying a particular hatred for them, and it makes their hearts hurt as they witness such cruelty.
The Thornberrys barely take it any better; they know of the habits other animals have, how life must feed upon life merely to survive, but what they see defies the rules of nature and takes the dignity out of the process of killing. The death they see is senseless and brutal, serving no other purpose than annihilation.
The females in the Tabootie family feel their anxiety spike as they watch the footage, turning away for most of it, but Rudy and Carlos continued to watch with stoic faces. Their reaction to the footage is not one of disinterest or sociopathy, but disgust that they have felt before, with just enough strength to stomach it.
The Rockets have surprisingly much maturity when it comes to facing the footage, but they are just as appalled as the rest. The greatest difference is that Otto felt not a sadness, but a strong anger for what he saw, enraged at the disgusting acts of violence the Irkens perpetrated.
Arnold and Buckley sat quietly as the footage played, having only passing reactions. They have seen what the footage has shown before, seeing it happen in their very hometown. The saying 'It can't happen here' is a complete falsehood that they have learned firsthand.
And they refuse to let it happen again.
When the horror show is finally over, a silence stung in the room, with none having anything to say or willingness to speak. The sheer intensity of the images from the future are enough to suck all joy and humor out of the room, and all merely sat and contemplated the lives lost, showing respect in their silence.
Arnold is the one who finally stood up to speak, giving Gally another order.
"Gally. I want you to do something for me." Arnold said.
"Yes, sir?" Gally asked.
"I want you to delete all of the footage you just showed us."
Dib stood up next in protest, sharing his own concerns regarding the video.
"Wait, wait, hold up! This is our only proof of this future that we have! We can't just delete it!" Dib interjected.
"This future is not going to happen. The world is not going to turn into another Hellwood. We don't need the footage. We've seen enough and we haven't learned anything from it. Gally, delete it all." Arnold ordered.
"Yes, sir. Just a moment." Gally said.
The gynoid's eyes twitched for a few seconds, soon opening back up in full.
"All footage deleted. Anything else you need, sir?" Gally asked.
"Just a couple of things. We lost Zim and he could be anywhere on the planet. Any chances you might know where he is?" Arnold asked.
Gally's joyful demeanor diminished as Arnold asked his question, feeling a heaviness sink her metal heart.
"I don't know. There is still the possibility he could merge with Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, and my mission may have been for nothing." Gally sighed.
A look of defeat is one that Arnold never takes kindly to, not even on a living machine, and his instinctual response is to sway her doubts.
"We're still looking for him. We're currently in the works to find some way to locate him. My second question is: How long until the rest of the Irkens arrive, and how many of them are there?" Arnold asked.
Arnold's reassurance brought Gally's spirits up a bit, but the question only served to make the others doubt.
"Approximately 3-4 days from now. And there are millions of them." Gally answered.
Sighs and gasps echoed throughout the room, all heavy with fear at the very image of an army of Irkens coming to Earth. Those with loved ones by clutched them tight, holding on to find the strength against the primal fear of complete annihilation by another species.
Arnold took the news just as heavily, but his reaction is more stoic, and merely nodded at the response.
"Thank you, Gally. If you can rest, you should. We may need more of you later." Arnold ordered.
"Yes, sir." Gally responded.
The light in Gally's eyes shut out, showing the machine had put itself in a state of sleep. With his concerns laid to rest and his questions answered, there is no more chance that Arnold will leave in favor of returning to isolation in the jungles of San Lorenzo as he had done once before.
Now, he is dedicated to stay, and dedicated to win.
Standing up tall, Arnold gained the full attention of the group, recognizing him as the highest authority figure. Rather than shirk the responsibility or take it begrudgingly, he accepted it with a silent confidence, listening out for any concerns and ready to provide his response.
"You told her that we're looking for a way to track Zim. Do we have a way to do that?" Reggie asked.
"We will soon. Here's what we're going to do: First thing we need to do is secure Zim's base and make sure he doesn't come back for it. Second, we need to study Tak and find out everything we can about Irkens. Third, we get ready to fight the Irkens when the come for our planet." Arnold said.
"That's barely a plan." Rudy said.
"It's a start. The more we find out about what we're up against, the better chance we have at fighting them when they get here."
"Uh, no offense, Arnold, but we just got our asses kicked by just one of these things. Is there really anything we can learn about these things that'll make it easier to beat them?" Twister asked.
"Only one way to find out. Do any of you have any proper martial arts or combat training?"
The room awkwardly stood silent as none could answer the question, save for Lincoln, who slowly raised his hand.
"My sister taught me some kickboxing for a few weeks. But, uh, I may be out of practice." Lincoln said.
"In other words: No. That means, whatever time we spend outside of learning about Irkens, I'll be spending getting you ready myself." Arnold said.
"You're gonna train us all to be fighters against an alien army in just 3 days?" Otto asked.
"Yep. It may not seem like much of a window, but it's all the time we got. And I can promise you that I will make the most of it. Whether or not you do is on you. I won't lie to you, this isn't going to be easy at all. I'm gonna be pushing you to the absolute limit, then past that. Can you get with that?"
The group nodded in agreement, silently pledging themselves to the mission.
"Good. First things first: We already caught us an alien. Now, we make it talk. Learn whatever we can." Arnold said.
Chapter 22: Chapter 20: Close Encounters, Part 3
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 20: CLOSE ENCOUNTERS, PART 3
The Irken is one of the most dangerous creatures in the universe, and there is one being kept in the home of Professor Membrane.
Her name is Tak. She is not an official Invader or member of the Irken Army, but instead a rogue agent whose chance at being among said ranks was denied by the results of a haphazard-prone Irken named Zim. Enraged at losing her chance at recognition and reward by her superiors, she swore revenge on Zim, tracking him down to his false assignment to Earth.
Once, she had enacted her revenge on him by attempting to conquer the Earth for herself, offering it to the Tallest as a means of winning their favor. Her efforts were stopped by an unlikely alliance between Zim and Dib, who together stopped her from taking the planet.
Years later, she has returned to take another chance at revenge, but again she had failed, this time at the results of other alliances made by Dib.
Warned of a future where Zim has become ruler of the Irken Empire and conquered all of Earth, Dib had began a mission to unite the many heroes of the world in the hopes that the threat would be repulsed and the future averted, succeeding in bringing together several men of power and unusual abilities, including Arnold Shortman, formerly known as the Green Eye.
In order to gain more information on the enemy they must face, there is only one source of knowledge at their disposal, and that is Tak herself. Following a lengthy and difficult chase all throughout the city, Tak has already proved to be a force to be reckoned with, and not someone who will willingly turn sides so easily.
And once again is it proved as Tak once again showed defiance towards her captors.
"Fark off, monkeys. I will tell you nothing." Tak sneered.
"Well, she's a ray of sunshine, isn't she? Dib, you wanna introduce us to your Martian lady friend?" Otto asked.
"Irken, Otto, not Martian. Martians went extinct turning their planet into a spaceship." Dib corrected.
The clarification brings pause to the group, who gave Dib a stare of confusion as they once again question his sanity.
"Tell us about the Irken, then." Arnold ordered.
"Her name is Tak. She is far more dangerous and more capable than Zim. She tried to drain the planet of all its magma and fill it back up with snacks as a gift to the Tallest." Dib explained.
Once again does the group all look to Dib with confusion, and many began shaking their heads in disbelief.
"Okay, I consider myself an open-minded man. I've spent my entire teenage life in the second dimension itself. I'm a comic book creator who draws and writes a lot of stuff. But am I the only one who's finding this hard to believe, even with the alien captive?" Rudy asked.
"After awhile, you start to get used to it." Twister said.
"And it's a true story. It was only the combined efforts of myself and Zim that saved the planet." Dib explained.
"So Zim actually fought on the side of the Earth?" Arnold asked.
"Only so he could conquer it for himself. He didn't want any competition. As for me... the old saying goes, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'."
"And your choice of 'friend' in that moment led to my isolation on a planet far from this solar system, outside the Irken Empire, and left for dead. Out of sight, out of mind, was I, Dib? Neither you nor Zim never bothered to question if I lived still." Tak taunted.
"Anyone would've had the knowledge not to come back and try again. Why were you stupid enough to come back?"
"I am here to conquer the Earth once again. To earn my place back with the Tallest, as I was destined before Zim denied it to me. That is all you need to know. What about you, Dib? You combined the forces of several of these... differently-abled humans to attack Zim. You didn't expect to encounter me. Why all this effort for just Zim?"
"We know the Irken Empire is coming. That's all you need to know. But we need to know a lot more, because we're going to beat them. Start talking."
"I told you already, humans: I will tell you nothing."
"You don't have a choice. You're our prisoner, here at our mercy. No one is coming to save you. The Tallest don't care about you, your robot slave ran off with G.I.R., and you aren't even an official member of the Irken Empire's ranks. You're a deserter in their eyes. So why don't you just make it easy and help out the winning side?" Dib asked.
"Never! My loyalty has been to the Irken Empire first and foremost for as long as I have existed, and I shall never turn my back on the Empire or the Tallest. There is nothing you can do, no form of torture on this planet that you can inflict upon me that will change my mind."
With no success found with simple threats and words, the fault is diagnosed not to be at fault with the words themselves, but with who in question was doing the delivery of the threats and incentives. Laying a hand on Dib's shoulder, Arnold gently but firmly pushed him aside, taking the chance to speak to Tak himself.
"He's right, you know. Maybe he's not the most intimidating person on the planet; hell, he's not intimidating in the slightest-" Arnold began to say.
"Hey!" Dib protested.
"-but he's correct. You're stuck here, and you're gonna help us out, one way or the other."
"Guess again, Earth-monkey. I am an Irken, the deadliest form of life in all the galaxy and the universe. Perhaps you managed to capture me, but your victory is as hollow as it is Pyrric. You have won nothing." Tak sneered.
Arnold's eyes began to narrow in frustration, and the irises of said eyes began to glow green, calling upon his mental power to use on Tak.
You are no longer loyal to the Irken Empire. You are loyal to me. You will tell me everything you know about the Irken Empire and your species. Arnold telepathically ordered.
Just as Tak's telepathic orders failed to work on his telepathically-inclined brain, Arnold's command was deflected away, with Tak's head implant giving a purple shine as it defended her mind. Knowing of his attempt at reaching her mind, Tak smirked in victory, showing still no signs of surrender.
"Telepathic suggestion is not something I've encountered often in many species, let alone any on Earth. But it will have no effect on me. I've an implant in my brain that keeps me safe from any attempts at making any suggestions towards me. You fail again, human." Tak hissed.
Options of making Tak speak seemed to grow low and limited, leaving the rest to reach out to find any means to get the information out of her.
"This ain't working. If she won't talk, she won't talk." Otto bemoaned.
"I don't accept that. What she knows, we need. I've waited years for the chance to have a full and better understanding of Irkens, and I'm not about to let that opportunity slide by me when it's staring me right in the face." Dib said.
"Well, I don't know if you noticed, bro, but this alien ain't gonna tell us shit. She's totally loyal and she ain't gonna break."
"We can get her to break. I'm sure of it."
"Then what do you suggest we do?" Vindicator asked.
"If I might make a suggeshtion: The creature ish a prishoner of war, and we could alwaysh take the opportuinty to try a little... 'enhanshced interrogatshion'." Lisa suggested.
"...Huh?" Otto asked.
"Enhanshced interrogatshion."
The repeated suggestion was once again lost on Otto, failing to understand Lisa through her lisp.
"Ok, does anyone know what the hell she said?" Otto asked.
"She said 'enhanced interrogation'. What that means, you got me." Lana said.
"That's another word for torture. It was a term invented during the George Bush presidency by then-Vice President Dick Cheney as a politically correct term for torture, drawn from a study from the Air Force of Chinese torture techniques used during the Korean War, including waterboarding, sleep deprivation, and rape." Twister explained.
The group collectively looked to Twister with confusion, none expecting the intelligent sharing of information from him, with Twister looking back just as confused.
"...What?" Twister asked.
"Dude. How do you have these moments of genius and smart stuff to say when you're totally dumb most of the time?" Sam asked.
"I don't know. I watch a lot of documentaries and history stuff when I want to sleep, I pick up some stuff here and there."
"Well, in any case, torture's fine with me. Let's milk what we can out of her." Dib said.
The group immediately protested to the idea of torture, with Nigel Thornberry coming to the defense of the alien.
"Now, hold on just a moment. This is a living being we have in captivity, with just as much rights as you or me. We're not going to resort to such-" Nigel began to protest.
"You saw what was on that footage! These things would kill us without a second thought, unless to enslave or eat us. They don't have the same respect for life as you do. There's no reason to waste time trying to be humane to it." Dib said.
"There's the reason of not being the monster we're fighting. That sounds reason enough to me. Wouldn't you agree, Arnold?"
Arnold Shortman has seen and contributed to some of the most compassionate acts that humankind is capable of, but also has he seen the worst of humanity itself in the most intimate way possible. The question posed to him brought legitimate pause and contemplation, looking at Tak with an impartial eye, and Tak giving the slightest twinge of fear as Arnold had an uncaring look he gave her.
The failure to condemn the suggestion right away brought disgust to Nigel as he heard naught but silence from Arnold, turning his ire towards him.
"Oh, come, now, lad, you can't seriously be contemplating the idea of torture? Have you forgotten yourself?" Nigel asked.
"I don't think Dib particularly cares what I have to say." Arnold said.
Impartiality is just as bad as approval in Nigel's eyes, and his face sunk with disappointment as Arnold made no attempt to stop the idea in its very tracks.
Dib seemed giddy at the idea with inflicting pain on Tak, and Lisa seemingly more than happy to be complicit. Still is there hostility to the idea, even without the say of Arnold Shortman, and the others are more than willing to stand in the way of them, starting with the Loud parents.
"Hold it right there, young lady. You're not torturing any aliens on our watch." Lynn Sr. scolded.
"Oh, pleashe, parental unitsh? Thish ish a onshce-in-a-lifetime opportunity!" Lisa protested.
"No, Lisa. We do not torture in this family." Rita scolded.
"I tort- Er, exshperiment on the family all the time, and they come out fine!"
"We said no, Lisa, and that's final."
"Pleashe, parentel unitsh? Pleashe, pleashe, pleashe, pleashe, pleashe?!"
"Don't try our patience, now!" Lynn Sr. scolded.
Highly intelligent beyond all her peers and even her older siblings, Lisa's knowledge of science and the world is not paired with emotional maturity, and she is not above throwing a temper tantrum. Her eyes watering, Lisa fell to the floor and began kicking and beating the floor, crying all the while.
"But... But I wanted to torture the alien shpeciesh! Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Lisa sobbed.
"Now, Lisa, you know that's not how you get what you want." Rita scolded.
Showing no success with her attempt at emotional manipulation, Lisa ceased her crying and stood up straight, returning to a normalized attitude of disappointment.
"Well, it was worth a try." Lisa said.
"Come on, you can't seriously be defending this thing! She drained the Earth of all its magma and tried to fill it back up with snacks for the leaders of the Irken Empire!" Dib yelled.
"Yes, I did, and I'd do it again if I had the chance, you big-headed fool!" Tak cackled.
"You see! It shows no regret! It's a monster it must be stopped! It-"
Dib's delirious ranting served no good to convince the group, who only stood back and looked on him with more pity than hostility, clearly opposing his plan, yet finding no true threat in him, and seeing his rantings as sad rather than cause for concern. Emasculated and seen as weak, Dib hung his head as he failed to sway the team.
"Alright, so torture's off the table. We still need to get her to talk." Rudy said.
"Wait! What if there was a way to get her to talk without actually physically harming her?" Lincoln asked.
"You mean psychological torture?" Reggie asked.
"No, no torture at all. I mean... Actually, I guess it would technically be like psychological torture. But totally harmless and not permanent!"
"Well, lay it on us, kid." Shane said.
"Hang on, I gotta make a call."
Taking his phone out of his pocket, Lincoln dialed a number to the person of his interest, waiting for the other line to be received.
-
A 30 minute drive is all that needs be to be spent to go from Detroit to Royal Woods, the city where the Loud House is located, but a much, much longer drive has been spent by Lori Loud and Bobby Santiago to get to the home from their past location in Great Lakes City.
Lori is the eldest of the Loud sisters, and, now in her early 20s, she has already made plans to move on with her life, spending most of it with her boyfriend of several years, Bobby Santiago, with his extended family. Recent circumstances has led to an emergency call on them to tend to the pets of the house, and it is only now that they get a reprieve from the duties.
"Well, Babe, that's Charles, Cliff, Geo, and Walt all fed, plus Lana's reptiles, Luan's rabbits, and Lucy's bats. You guys are running a zoo around here." Bobby groaned.
"They run the zoo, Bobby-Boo-Boo-Bear. We literally just got roped into taking care of it for a bit. I definitely don't miss that part about home." Lori sighed.
"For sure. I can't believe Luan has that many rabbits, though. Didn't she just have one before?"
"She got another one for more complex tricks, and it turned out to be a girl rabbit. You do the math on that."
"Figures. The baby rabbits sure were cute, though."
Alone and able to relax with no one else around, Lori, laying on the couch, began rubbing her foot against Bobby's crotch, making him lightly gasp at the stimulation.
"Maybe we ought to take a cue from them. This might just be the first and only time I've ever had the house all to myself, with my Bobby-Boo-Boo-Bear in it. Why don't we relax a bit after that long drive?" Lori asked.
Wasting no time to take to the invitation, Bobby climbed onto the couch on top of Lori, with both young people taking their time to grope and feel one another, with every second of their mouths put to use on tasting each other. Their bodies have grown stiff and sore from a long time spent sitting in a car, and physical activity is the perfect cure for their ails.
However, the ringing of a cell phone brought the fornication to a halt, with both parties groaning in frustration, and Lori begrudgingly going to answer.
"C'mon, babe, don't answer it." Bobby moaned.
"I have to, Bobby. Just hold on a second." Lori moaned.
The passionate moans coming from Lori turned to an angry elevated voice upon answering the phone, seeing it to be Lincoln calling.
"Lincoln! What do you want?!" Lori shouted.
"Well, nice to speak to you, too, Lori. I need a favor from you guys." Lincoln said.
"I'm busy, what is it?"
"I need you drive down to Detroit and pick something up along the way."
"What?! We literally just got here! My ass is killing me from sitting in a seat for over 3 hours! Why should I have to drive half an hour more?"
"It concerns the fate of the world."
"Oh, sure it does. Like I'm going to buy that- Ah!"
"Buy that 'ah'?"
Lori's interruptive gasp was brought upon by Bobby licking her exposed navel, leading her to lightly slap him on the head to stop.
"Stop it, Bobby, not now! Er, nevermind that, Lincoln. What do you need so bad?" Lori asked.
-
A further explanation, a further verification, and even a further talking-to by the Loud parents is what eventually gets Lori to comply, driving 30 minutes to the house of Professor Membrane, knocking on the door upon her arrival. Lincoln is the one who answered the door alongside Stella and Ronnie Anne, the former greeting his eldest sister and her boyfriend alongside her.
"Hi, Lori. Hey, Bobby, bro." Lincoln greeted.
"Hey, Linc, good to see ya again. Hi, Stella. Hey, little sis." Bobby greeted.
Crossing her arms at the belittling treatment, Ronnie Anne responded to her brother with rolled eyes and a groan.
"Hey, Bobby." Ronnie Anne bemoaned.
"Hi, Bobby." Stella greeted.
"We got what you needed, Lincoln." Lori groaned.
"Was it any trouble?" Lincoln asked.
"Of course not. Not when I'm involved in it, anyway."
There is a manner in which the dialogue is shared between the three that Stella and Ronnie Anne took notice of, with all parties being careful not to clarify the subject of their discussion. Stella looked to the approach with confusion, where Ronnie Anne smirked in understanding.
"Why are they talking about the subject like that?" Stella asked.
"The same reason you are. They're trying not to say what they brought so it becomes a funny surprise for the audience." Ronnie Anne explained.
"Oh, come on, not that 'invisible audience' thing again."
"Hey, it's not my fault you can't see it, commie."
The group all soon arrived in the room with the rest of the group, with Lincoln making their presence announced.
"Alright, everyone, our enhanced interrogation expert has arrived, and we're guaranteed to get more information out of Tak now. I'd like you all to meet my loyal sidekick... Clyde." Lincoln announced.
[Soundtrack Cue: Jerry Goldsmith - Ave Satani]
The sight of Clyde McBride is not something that anyone would particularly find threatening, making the idea of him posing any danger to anyone utterly inconceivable.
Nonetheless, he is the very 'expert' that Lincoln espoused, stepping forward with a large grin on his face, displaying innocence and friendliness. His presence indeed merely baffles all those present, bringing questions into their heads as to how he could serve any purpose to getting information out of Tak.
Tak herself is the one who finds the idea of using him the most laughable, cackling out loud at his arrival.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
"Hi. I'm Clyde McBride." Clyde greeted.
"So this is who you believe will break me? Please. You must be joking. If you're so confident that this is the one who will make me betray my nation?" Tak asked.
"Yep." Lincoln smiled.
"Ha! Fine, then. I welcome him at his most horrible. His worst he has to offer. Let him hit me with his best shot. By the Tallest, I will not falter, and I will not break. Let him do his worst."
"Alright, you asked for it. C'mon, guys, let's let the master do his work."
Still is the group reluctant to put their trust in Lincoln Loud and his friend, but nonetheless do they allow his plan to be put into effect, leaving the room to place Clyde McBride alone with Tak. The door closed slowly behind them, leaving the alien and human boy alone and undisturbed.
10 MINUTES LATER
Cylde held up a jar of human feces, with a label on the jar reading 'LORI LOUD - 03/15/2019, 10:37 PM', displaying it to Tak.
"This one's my favorite in my collection. She had fish with extra onions that night, it adds a much more sensual, feminine scent to this treasure. I'm careful never to call it 'shit' or 'poop'; I wouldn't dare sully even the slightest part of my woman's beautiful body, even what gifts it leaves behind." Clyde explains.
Opening the jar, Clyde took a whiff of the preserved excrement, sighing in erotic pleasure as he inhaled the rancid fumes.
-
The disgusting display is but one of many horrors the group had to witness, watching the psychological torture on a baby monitor camera. All were cringing and shuddering in revulsion as they watched, most ready to vomit. Several could not bear to witness what repulsive displays showed, those too squeamish averting their eyes, with Carol and Carlos covering one another's eyes.
In a stark contrast to the others, Lincoln, knowing his best friend better than the others, had little more than a look of disappointment on his face during the horror show, watching the unfiltered id of Clyde on display with only an exasperated frown, shaking his head as though he witnessed a minor social indiscretion.
"Why the hell are you friends with this nasty little pervert?" Otto asked.
"We have the same taste in comic books." Lincoln explained.
"Hey, look, a piece of corn! Here, let me just clean this off first." Clyde cheered.
Even we dare not describe what Clyde proceeded to do next, but the offending sight brought disgusted screams out of the group, finally bringing them to vomiting.
"Em... Well, it's not... exactly unhealthy... The, um... Oryctolagus cuniculus, or, rabbit... is known to, um, eat its own excrement... the droppings are known as cecotropes, jam-packed with nutrients that their bodies can absorb- Oh, god save the queen!" Nigel groaned.
Quick on the draw to all her husband's needs, Marianne Thornberry drew out a paper bag, giving it to Nigel to puke in.
-
The assault on the visual senses continues on from the video feed, coming from inside the garage where the absolute torment of any sane being's senses continued...
"Ah, if only I could get closer to the portal of joy that provided that little snack. Oh, that reminds me, let me show you one more way I like to masturbate!" Clyde cheered.
...and, as Clyde began unzipping his pants and attempting to reach with his feet, Tak incessantly rocked back and forth in place, pulling on her antennae in desperation.
"STOP! MAKE IT STOP! I BEG YOU, PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP TALKING! PLEASE, YOU'VE GOT ME BY THE SQUEEDILYSPOOCH, I'LL DO ANYTHING YOU WANT!" Tak screamed.
With the results of their enhanced interrogation paying off, the group subsequently entered the room once again, with Dib rubbing his hands in anticipation.
"Finally! You have no idea how long I've waited for this day. Now, alien scum, tell me everything about your species. Every detail, down to the last trivial piece of information." Dib demanded.
"For once, I'm with the crazy person. Tell us everything about the Irken race and Empire." Arnold said.
The demand is made, and the threat of further torture remains on the table for Tak, putting her at odds with her ultimate goals in the Irken Empire. Faced with a form of interrogation she has never been prepared for previously, she is left with little option but to proceed, knowing that her mind could take no more of the perverted ramblings of Clyde.
It is with a heavy Irken heart that Tak conceded to the torture, sighing as she prepared to speak.
"Very well, humans. I will answer your questions." Tak bemoaned.
Over the course of the next hour, Tak spent the time revealing much of the inner workings of the Irken Empire, but some of the knowledge showed is already what they have learned from the files of Gally. It is with the repetition that disappointment comes, though enough information is given to arouse curiosity to find more answers again.
"I have done as you asked, humans. I hope it serves you no purpose, and you perish under the might of the glorious Irken Empire all the same, so the shame of my betrayal will be nullified." Tak sneered.
And Tak concluded what was demanded of her with no pleasure, looking away in shame as she crossed her arms.
"So, that's interesting. A species with an artificial intelligence surgically implanted to supply cognitive abilities and a personality. This creature is nothing short of fascinating." Penny commented.
"Hold on. There's one thing that doesn't add up. You said that you creatures infiltrate planets with only a single Invader, and take it over from the inside out." Arnold noted.
"Correct." Tak said.
"Then why is there a huge armada coming for us? Surely just you or Zim would be enough to take over our planet."
"Zim's mission was a farce from the beginning. He was the sole reason why Operation Impending Doom I had failed, and he was banished to Foodcourtia as punishment. He escaped from his punishment and demanded a second chance, and he was assigned this planet."
"Why us?"
"Arbitrary decision. The Empire knew nothing of this speck of rock and dirt, and, having surveyed it once, it serves no true purpose to the Empire, either."
"Then it still begs the question; you said the entire Irken armada's coming for us, why all this trouble for a planet that they don't even want?"
"You misunderstand. It's not this planet they want. It's Zim. Zim has been a foil for the Empire for so long, even from this remote location, that he has warranted his own destruction, as well as the destruction of this planet as insurance. You will find the Irken Empire is nothing if not thorough."
"And supposing we were to just hand over Zim to your Tallest, that would have no bearing on their decision to destroy our planet?"
"The word of the Tallest is law. They have even gone so far as to defy the Control Brains in this vendetta. An Irken misses no opportunity for destruction and war, and Zim has only made it personal for the Tallest."
"Why are you here ahead of the armada?"
"When I was first repelled from Earth, I was stranded on a planet that happened to be closer than the rest of the Irken armada. I was hoping for the chance to bring the Tallest the head of Zim to find redemption in their eyes. The rest, we are familiar with."
"But why are the aliens coming to Earth?" Leni asked.
However, the asinine question asked by the Loud sister of the lowest intelligence led the group to all look at her with confusion, with Tak herself also doing so.
"Are... Are you serious? I just told you why." Tak stammered.
"Right." Leni said.
"There's just one thing I wanna know." Otto said.
"What?" Rudy asked.
"If these things don't have dicks or pussies, how do they bang?"
Reggie let out a loud, annoyed groan at her brother's crass question, shaking her head at his thought process.
"Otto. Really? That's the big takeaway you had from all this?" Reggie asked.
"No, wait, hang on, that's a good question." Sam said.
"Sammy? C'mon, you, too? I mean, I expect that crap from Otto, maybe even Twister, but you?"
"No, Reggie, that raises a bigger scientific question about them in general. If they don't have genitals, they can't sexually reproduce."
"So?"
"So if they don't reproduce sexually, how did they evolve the way they did?"
The greater implications of the question led the room to grow silent, all having their own speculations to answer it.
"Think about it, nothing adds up with these creatures. The vast majority of life reproduces sexually in order to recombine genes and pass on the ones most suitable for surviving in their current environment. Irkens live on a barren planet, they grow in factories, and they have computers welded to their backs, complete with their entire personalities. A species like that obviously can't evolve on its own to that state. Something must have influenced it and artificially selected it to be that way." Sam explained.
"Are you shuggeshting that theshe creaturesh were creatively deshigned? Like shome short of act of panshpermia and/or exshperimentashtion?" Lisa asked.
"It'd have to be."
"But, then, that begs the question: Who designed the Irkens? Tak hasn't explained that part to us." Penny reasoned.
"Right she didn't. Tak, who designed your species?"
This question is one that Tak stood in silence over, carrying a look of uncertainty on her face that signaled the inquiry is not only one that she has never been asked before, but one she has never even considered herself at all. Just as new as it is nearly taboo to think of, Tak's only way to be honest is to answer...
"I don't know." Tak said.
...and this answer brought the rest of the group sharing the same confusion as Tak, and even hungrier for an answer.
"What do you mean, you don't know?" Dib asked.
"That is not a question we have ever pondered. Since our births, we were programmed for our specific purposes, made to fulfill certain roles in the Empire. It is not our place to question outside of our roles." Tak said.
"You're the only creatures in the universe born in test tubes, and you never questioned to think why that was?" Eliza asked.
Tak once again stayed quiet, her silence this time prompting another thought in her mind she once kept hidden.
"I admit that this is a thought that has crossed my mind... but my own goals and pre-programmed desires have not allowed me to waste time on such matters. To go against my programming, to Defect, is blasphemy in the Irken ranks." Tak confessed.
"Irkens have a sense of blasphemy? That's a new one." Dib scoffed.
"Shut up, Dib." Arnold ordered.
Dib's smug attitude shortened down to submission as he frowned and turned his head at Arnold's command.
"I take it that's not something particularly held in high value, questioning further than what you know, particularly on where you originally came from, just shuffle back to the war machine." Arnold commented.
"Yes." Tak nodded.
"A fascist war regime. We've seen plenty in our time on Earth, I suppose it's not that surprising that aliens also have their own go at it." Nigel added.
"Your country of origin is known as the United Kingdom, is it not? I studied your English language from its history. It had nearly conquered half the land on this planet in its height. I assume you speak from experience."
"All countries on this planet have blood on their hands and a past to be ashamed of. Best thing we can do is own up to our mistakes and try to do better. Funny thing about empires, and a thing you should've learned from them: They always fall, sooner or later, and the forces of good prevail. Something you ought to keep in mind if you still choose to stand by your Empire."
Tak sat in a defeated silence at the point made by Nigel, sneering as she failed to come up with a counter-point.
"I think we've heard enough from the alien. There's some things we need to get down to. First: Sam, Penny, Lisa, you three are all scientists, correct?" Arnold asked.
"Yes, I am." Penny answered.
"Correct. An advanshced one, I might add." Lisa answered.
"Yeah. Well, no, not officially, I mean, I don't know." Sam answered.
"Don't sell yourself short, Sam, you tinkered with the Irken tech long enough to reverse-engineer it, haven't you? If that's not a scientist, I don't know what is." Arnold responded.
"Well, when you put it like that, I guess I am."
"Dude, c'mon, you build our hoverboards out of Tak's ship. That's like if a monkey picked up a smartphone and built a desktop, that's awesome." Otto added.
"Hold it. You did what to my ship?! What have you done to it, human?! Rubbed your filthy human paws and butts all over it?!" Tak protested.
"Doesn't matter, you're not leaving this planet anyway. But speaking of the ship, we're gonna need to bring it back here to study more." Arnold said.
"Wait a second. That thing's all the way in Ocean Shores, and it's huge. We'd need a trailer just to carry it all the way here, and we'd have to drive 2 days to get it, and we only have 3 or 4! Goddammit, I told you we should've taken it with us!" Dib complained.
"Hey, you wanted to take it with you to keep, it's ours now." Sam protested.
"The fate of the Earth is in the balance, and you want to squabble over property rights?"
Concurrent to the argument as it unfolded, Ronnie Anne and Stella shared a look at each other, silently agreeing on a plan they concocted, exiting quietly after.
"There's plenty of more Irken tech to study here and at Zim's place, I already learned most of what's in it, anyway." Sam said.
"We could still do to learn what we can from it with Lisa and Penny here as well, maybe they can find something you might've overlooked." Arnold said.
"No, trust me. If there was something in there worth seeing, I would've seen it. I tend to be the one who sees what other people overlook."
"Spare me the ego. You've got your uncle and aunt there, right?"
"Well, they're not my uncle and aunt; we all kind of call Tito 'uncle', it's a Hawaiian thing, and he's really more of a cousin-in-law, Noelani married Otto's dad, and I'm with Reggie now, so that makes me kind of a future second cousin-in-law, and... Okay, fine, he's basically our uncle. I'll give him a call to get a Haul-U-Rass, he can have it here while we work on-"
The doorbell rang once again, making Dib groan in annoyance at the sound.
"DIB! THE DOOR!" Gaz called.
"COMING! Damn it, what now?" Dib groaned.
Marching to the door, Dib swung it open, scowling with a mouth open to berate who might be at the door, only to find no one standing at the entrance. Narrowing his eyes in confusion, his eyes looked up to see Ronnie Anne and Stella in the sky, holding up Tak's ship with their bare hands, and his mouth opened further as his jaw dropped.
"This is the ship, right?" Stella asked.
"Y-Y-Y... Yeah." Dib stammered.
Coming to the door to check on Dib, Arnold and Sam looked up to share his sense of surprise, seeing the arrival of the ship by unconventional means.
"What-?! How'd you get that?" Sam asked.
"We flew down to Ocean Shores, asked your Uncle Tito about the ship, he told us where to find it, we zapped the lock, brought it all the way here." Ronnie Anne explained.
"Sorry about not asking permission first, but we figured this was kind of an emergency." Stella apologized.
"Where you want it?"
Recovering his composure, Dib cleared his throat to answer.
"Uh, put it in the garage, I'll get the door." Dib said.
Soon later, the ship was gingerly placed in the garage, allowing the crew to observe it, some for the first time, some for another, but all with their minds on the plan.
"Okay, that solves the ship problem, and showing how strong the girls are. There's still a few more things we need to do in the meantime." Arnold said.
"Oh, yeah? What's that?" Otto asked.
Before giving his answer, Arnold swept his foot by Otto's, lifting his leg up and sending him falling on his back. The attack brought not only pain to Otto as he fell to the hard ground, but a surprise out of the rest of the group, looking at Arnold with uncertainty as they failed to understand the point of his action.
"Why the hell did you do that?" Otto yelled.
"Training you for combat is what we need to do next. If I can catch you off-guard that easily, then an army of Irkens would have no problem tearing you apart. Not that you needed that much of a reminder, you all royally screwed the pooch when it came to Tak." Arnold explained.
The point is made, but Otto is no less annoyed with the gesture, and he is left on his own to get back up off the ground, dusting off his legs.
"Hell of a way to make the point. So, I'm guessing you're gonna train us all by yourself?" Otto asked.
"Valiance has enough combat experience. He'll be helping with that as well." Arnold answered.
"Vindicator, Arnold. Let's not forget that." Buckley added.
"Hey, what about me? I know kickboxing, plus a few other martial arts." Lynn volunteered.
"Okay, I'll take it." Arnold said.
"Er, I hope you won't mind if we make ourselves conscientious objectors, Arnold. Even I'm not fit for battle, and my family's not got any experience in combat or fought the people you all have." Nigel interjected.
"I wouldn't put you in the fight, you'd mostly just be in the way. Your experience with animals, we'll need for further study on Tak herself. Penny and Lisa, you two are also excluded from duty, but you'll be on duty of studying the tech, find out anything else you can. Sam, you'll be helping, but only in between your own training."
"Wait a minute, me? I just came for my husband. I'm not a-" Penny began to protest.
Carol and Carlos began pulling on their mother's shirt, prompting her to change her mind.
"Mama, they're counting on us. You've gotta help them." Carol objected.
Carlos said nothing to interject, instead only looking at his mother with sad eyes, but the reactions of both children are enough to make her reconsider, looking to Rudy for further guidance. Reaching out for her hand, Rudy took hers, nodding to give his vote of confidence to his wife.
Taking a deep breath, Penny looked back to Arnold, nodding in confidence.
"Consider it done. I'll be in charge of research. You'll find I have standards that leave out room for anything unacceptable." Penny said.
"Hey, wait a minute, how come you get to be the head of reshearch?! I'm the one with more degreesh!" Lisa protested.
"You just begged your parents to let you torture an alien species. You clearly need supervision." Arnold said.
"He's right, Lisa, I don't think you're quite ready to be in charge yet." Lynn Sr. added.
Lisa accepted her defeat, but not before giving Penny a scowl and an immature showing of her tongue.
"You can't tell me what to do." Lisa mocked.
"It's been a long time since you've had any discipline, haven't you?" Penny asked.
"I outshmart my parental unitsh at every turn. But I will be needing a shtool shample from the alien."
"No, you don't, Lisa." Lincoln groaned.
"N-No, really, Lincoln. I... Hee-hee-hee, I really need it this time, I shwear."
"Lisa, that's enough. All children under 16 except Lincoln, raise your hands." Arnold ordered.
Carol, Carlos, and the Loud children Lily, Lisa, Lana, Lola, and Lucy raised their hands, and Arnold counted each one...
"You're excused from all duties." Arnold said.
...with his command receiving immediate protest from the lot.
"Hey, wait a minute! We can fend for ourselves! How come Lincoln's not excused?" Lola shouted.
"He has powers. You don't." Arnold said.
"The Irkens won't care how old we are, they'll kill us anyway." Lana added.
"Let's hope." Lucy added.
Aside from a minor glance at Lucy, the children's protests swayed Arnold to reconsider.
"Fair enough. Alright, then. You can be... go-fers." Arnold decided.
"Ooh, gophers? Awesome! I don't know how that's gonna help, but I'll get right on it!" Lana cheered.
Lana began skittering on the floor and holding her arms to her chest, chittering like the oversized underground rodent.
"Not gophers. Go-fers. Meaning, you 'go-fer' this, or 'go-fer' that." Arnold explained.
"Oh. I can do that, too." Lana said.
"And what about us?" Rita asked.
"Yeah, we'd be happy to chip in!" Lynn Sr. cheered.
"You can cook, right? You can handle meals." Arnold said.
"Make sure you cook a lot of high-protein foods. And do low-carb. Wait, no, make it high-carb, they need more energy." Lynn added.
"I don't want to feel like a fifth wheel around here. I can help out in the kitchen, if it's alright with the Louds." Marianne offered.
"More than happy to have you." Lynn Sr. accepted.
"We could get supplies you need." Eliza offered.
"Good. That settles everything." Arnold nodded.
"Actually, no. Not everything." Bobby interrupted.
Stepping up to Clyde with a look of anger on his face, Bobby's wrath comes in response to the repulsive and perverted interests in his girlfriend that was displayed for Tak. Though the sights Clyde has displayed made him disgusted for the obvious reasons, it has also made him disgusted for how Lori has been lusted over.
"You do know that we all saw the nasty shit you were doing. And the nasty shit you showed off. Care to explain how you got it?" Bobby asked.
Clyde's self-preservation instincts override his one-sided love for Lori, making him shudder in fear as he nervously tried to find a way to escape any consequences.
"Uh... I... got it... from... the internet?" Clyde lied.
The dishonest answer is less than satisfactory to Bobby, who threw an unapologetic punch straight to Clyde's face.
Clyde went unconscious in an instant, falling straight to the floor without a single sound other than his body hitting the ground. It has often been said never to pick on someone except for your own size, but the group, having seen the perversions in his warped adolescent mind for themselves...
...have nothing to say in protest.
"Sorry, bro." Bobby apologized.
"Eh, I tried to help him. Some things you gotta learn for yourself." Lincoln said.
"Huh? What happened? I had to sneeze." Lori asked.
"Bobby just punched Clyde in the face."
Lori looked to Bobby with a mouth agape, staring in disbelief.
"Bobby... how could you possibly do that...?" Lori asked.
"Babe, what are you talking about? He was literally eating your-" Bobby began to say.
"...when I wasn't looking?"
Bobby's confused face now appeared frustrated, wishing he had considered said suggestion.
"Don't worry, I got it on tape. Enjoy the show all you want." Twister added.
"I missed seeing Clyde get knocked out in person. Oh, god, I'm going to be depressed for the rest of my life." Lori groaned.
"Speaking of unconsciousness, we should all get some rest. This has been a long enough day, and we've a lot to get started on tomorrow." Arnold said.
"Uh, I'm not sure I have enough room in the house for you all to sleep in." Dib mentioned.
"Oh, that's not a worry, we've got plenty of sleeping bags for everybody." Donnie said.
"Aw, no, guys, we don't wanna take all of your beds." Lincoln declined.
"No problem at all, guys. We carry at least 50 of them for spares. We lose 'em pretty easy, so we buy 'em in bulk, better off you use 'em."
Donnie headed off to the Comvee to retrieve the sleeping bags, with Eliza, Shane, and Tyler following him to help.
"The family and I are comfy in the Comvee, and we can have the young ones shack up with us, if it's no trouble. Young fans of the show would kill for a chance to spend the night in it." Nigel offered.
"Oh, no, we don't want to impose." Rita said.
"No, no, it's alright. We're more than used to handling children. You learn to handle the most dangerous wildlife, kids are nothing." Marianne said.
"Not our kids, trust me. It takes more than a village." Lynn Sr. said.
"Oh, come now, you've nothing to worry about. We'll keep them occupied and out of your way."
The younger Loud children all began begging their parents for the chance, alongside Carol and Carlos with their own parents.
"Can we stay with the Thornberrys, guys, please? You know how many animals have been in there?!" Lana begged.
"Please, Mama, please? We'll behave, promise!" Carol begged.
The two pairs of parents relented to the demands of the children, allowing the children their wish.
"Alright, but you had all be on your best behavior." Rita said.
"That goes for you two, too." Penny said.
All cheering, the children began running off for the Comvee, eager to see it from the inside.
"Oh, that RV of yours is torn apart by now." Rita said.
"We're used to it." Marianne said.
"Well, in any case, thanks for taking the little ones in, I suppose that does free up a little... private time for the both of us." Lynn Sr. said.
As Lynn Sr. and Rita looked longingly at one another, Penny affectionately held onto Rudy, with the latter sighing in slight embarrassment.
"I think they've got the right idea. Don't you, Rudy?" Penny asked.
"Uh, yeah. But maybe we should just focus on rest." Rudy said.
Seeing several married couples hold each other affectionately, Arnold kept his own sorrow to himself, silently exhaling as he turned his head away. His own broken heart craved the same affection everyone else received, thinking of the one and only person he wanted it from, but reality keeps him from said person, making him feel more alone than before.
The moment of self-pity is broken when Donnie Thornberry arrived with the first round of sleeping bags, laying them out for everyone to take. Stella and Ronnie Anne are the first among the group to take theirs, and their next destination is to Lincoln Loud, teasing him with the promise of sleeping together.
"So, Lame-O, which one of us are you gonna sleep beside?" Ronnie Anne asked.
"Yeah, Linc. It can get pretty cold at night. You gotta find someone to sleep near to stay warm." Stella teased.
"Oh, I already know who I'm sleeping next to, girls." Lincoln said.
"Oh, yeah? Who?" Ronnie Anne and Stella asked in unison.
-
Later that night, all found a place to sleep, taking their place on the floor. Where Lincoln was offered a place beside either of his willing suitors, he made his choice by...
"The Green Eye! I'm sleeping by the Green Eye! Oh, this is the coolest thing in the world! I actually got to fight an alien alongside him, I'm gonna train alongside him and fight an alien invasion with him, and I even get to sleep with him for a full 2 or 3 days! This is the coolest thing that has ever happened to me, hands-down. Just wait until I tell the rest of the guys back at..." Lincoln ranted.
Ronnie Anne and Stella are but two of several disappointed and annoyed with his choice of bedding, looking to him with unfulfilled desires and disbelief that he would not choose either of them to sleep near. Their frustrations lead them to sleep beside each other instead, pitting together two opposite personalities and with opposing goals in an already annoyed situation.
"I will never understand the nerd mind. Choosing to sleep with a superhero over two hot girls?" Stella thought aloud.
"When both of us are superheroes. Maybe that Fredric Wertham guy had a point after all." Ronnie Anne thought aloud.
One of the most frustrated members of those in the living room, of which there are many, all trying to sleep, none are more annoyed than Arnold Shortman himself. His sense of patience has been shortened and whittled with the unbearable abuse he has been put through, but it is the excited rantings of a teenage boy that finally bring him to his next breaking point.
"Hey." Arnold interrupted.
"Yes, Mr. Green Eye?" Lincoln asked.
"First, I told you: It's not 'The Green Eye' anymore. Second, I don't have to sleep, but I happen to enjoy it as a luxury, and I really need it after chasing an alien down the highway both on some poor kid's dirtbike and on foot. Third, there are also others who want to sleep tonight, including your two girlfriends that you left with blue balls. Four, we all have to train to fight an alien invasion, so even if I didn't need any sleep, you will. So how about you do us all a favor and shut up and sleep?"
"Well, they're not really my 'girlfriends' girlfriends, we're sort of just figuring everything out and-"
"Lincoln."
No longer does Lincoln test the patience of Arnold, and it is with a whimper that he finally quiets down.
"Sorry." Lincoln apologized.
Tucking himself under the blanket of his sleeping bag, Lincoln closed his eyes and prepared to sleep, resting up for a full 3 days of intense training and sleeping off the trials he had gone through on this very day as it ended. Deep breaths are what he takes to lull his mind to sleep, meditating to clear up all thoughts in his mind to drift into unconsciousness...
...but one final thought makes his eyes open again, looking to Arnold to share said final thought.
"Hey Arnold?" Lincoln asked.
"Ugh... What?" Arnold groaned.
"Thanks for coming back."
The final thanks puts Arnold in a different mood now, and put a smile on Lincoln's face as he turned and began to sleep. Over and over has he been praised by the others for his days as the Green Eye, even when he no longer has confidence in himself to be the beloved superhero.
Yet despite the denial of himself, the others will not allow him to make his denial. Perhaps it is the company of others who keep different attitudes than him, positivity that he once held in his beginning years as the Green Eye, and it begins to influence him and make him think the same, overriding what he has seen and done in Hillwood.
Just as reality always catches up, however, the punishments his mind has suffered remind him of the pain and trauma he and the people of his city have endured, and it drives him to dismiss the positivity he received, setting him at odds with himself in a state of mixed emotions.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out from it the sketch of the Green Eye drawn by Carlos as gifted to him, seeing himself portrayed in a manner both majestic and heroic, a living ideal dressed in green armor. He knows the person on the paper, having lived as him since before he even put on the costume, since his parents had left for San Lorenzo and he was raised by his grandparents...
...but he is unsure how to find that person again.
-
The Comvee has been on every corner of the planet, enduring the toughest terrains, going over, across, and under the oceans, and surviving the harshest cold and hot weather in its extremes alike, losing thousands if not hundreds of thousands of dollars in equipment and requiring more in repairs over the years...
...and once again it is put to the test by having 7 children run through it, leaving much of the interior in disarray. The excited energy that the children once showed in wreaking havoc all over the Comvee is now no longer anywhere to be found, expended and leaving their bodies fatigued and tired.
The children mostly slept where they pleased, choosing unorthodox locations for rest like the sink or on the dining table, but all were scooped up and laid in proper bedding by the Thornberrys, wrapping them all in sleeping bags and tucking them in to rest and replenish their energy.
But not all had fallen asleep yet. Getting ahead of his peers, Carlos was already within his own sleeping bag, going to work on a new drawing with a pencil, paper, and flashlight on the floor of the Comvee. He has made no attempt to make himself inconspicuous, drawing as he pleased.
It is his late-night artistry that caught the attention of Nigel Thornberry, who knelt down to observe the boy at work.
"Good evening, lad. What have you there?" Nigel asked.
Protecting his sketch from prying eyes with his hands, Carlos prevented Nigel from seeing it.
"Not ready yet." Carlos said.
"Well, that's alright, lad, I don't mind if it's not done yet. I'd still like to see it, if that's alright with you." Nigel said.
"But it's not ready yet. Can't let anyone see it until it's ready."
"I'll let you in on a little secret, my boy. When you see something that's not quite ready, it won't matter, because you can always see the beauty that's just in there and waiting to come out. I learned that when I became a father, seeing my two girls and son grow up. They're all some of the finest people I know."
Carlos reconsidered from the kindly-shared wisdom from Nigel, slowly removing his hands and pushing the paper towards Nigel.
"Okay. But it's still not done yet. I have more work to do." Carlos said.
Taking the paper and flashlight, Nigel viewed it to be a rough sketch of the Green Eye, but appearing to be sad and defeated, rather than mighty and victorious. The depressing imagery brought Nigel concern, hiding a frown away as not to offend Carlos over his work.
"It's Arnold in his get-up as the Green Eye... but he looks rather sad. Why?" Nigel asked.
"Because he looks sad." Carlos said.
"Oh, yes, I see. You drew it that way because that's how you believe he feels."
Carlos nodded.
"Yes, well, Arnold has been through quite a lot, and I don't think he's quite ready to be the Green Eye again." Nigel said.
"He will be. He needs us." Carlos said.
"Oh?"
"When I met my dad, he was sad because he was alone, and people hurt him. He used to have my mom, but he was sent away, and they never saw each other. So, Carol and I went into ChalkZone and found him so mom could be with him again. He wasn't happy at first, but after we spent more time together, he was happy again, and we were all more happy than before."
"You all gave him a family."
Carlos nodded.
"That's good, lad. Everyone deserves a family. Unfortunately, Arnold did have a family long ago, but they were taken from him, and they aren't coming back. That's not something you can easily fix." Nigel explained.
"Sure it is. We can all be his family." Carlos said.
Nigel smiled at the simple logic that Carlos displayed, finding it admirable and noble despite its lack of nuance for the real world. Upon a second thought, it is that same disregard for the complexities of adulthood that make his thought all the more uplifting, as though a wisdom lost is found once again.
"You should sleep, lad. It's to be a long day for everyone tomorrow." Nigel said.
"Goodnight." Carlos said.
"Goodnight."
Nigel left Carlos to himself, heading to the bedroom of the Comvee to find his own sleep for the night.
As soon as Nigel left, however, Carlos still did not get to sleep, instead continuing on his next drawing. More detail and lines are what he adds, giving more depth and detail to the depiction of the Green Eye. More and more can his despair be clearly depicted, and makes one yearn for the chance to leap into the picture and save the savior.
The artwork he provides is fine and well-crafted, but it is not only the Green Eye he aimed to draw. Taking out another piece of paper, Carlos set it beside his sketch of the Green Eye, getting to work on another figure that caught his attention, and he began fleshing out with more detail:
Tak.
Chapter 23: Chapter 21: The Dirty Dozen, Part 1
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 21: THE DIRTY DOZEN, PART 1
The life of Vlad Masters is a very busy one.
Owner of VladCo, the most powerful corporation on Earth, he is responsible for the income of multiple people across the globe, and said corporation is the primary supplier to the United States military, as well as the militaries of several allied nations across the globe.
In between his multinational company, he is also a practitioner of several magickal and dark arts, which he has incorporated into his own research into the Ghost Zone. Expanding his own understanding of the human psyche and the afterlife, he increases his own powers with all the knowledge he gains, making him one of the few, if not the only, thing standing between Earth and the threats of the unknown.
Today, there are others who focus on a threat also not of this Earth; the threat they face is not an esoteric one, though it is one that Vlad has experience with nonetheless with the past life that he has lived. The second life of Vlad Masters has allowed him the chance to use his knowledge for the better, and he has taken every chance he has to do the most good.
Now, his focus has turned to the group of heroes that captured but one of the many alien Irken threats. He has seen how the group has just barely managed to capture the one Irken, and how most of the efforts could be thanks to Arnold Shortman, and less from the rest of the team.
Though they are now training to ensure that they see that mistake is not repeated, Vlad began his own plans to see they succeed all the same.
A dossier full of files he gives to Rhonda, reading through a project known as 'Amagedroid'. She has no understanding of what the project pretrains to at first, nor any reason to see what bearing it has on current events, so her mouth calls out for answers that her mind cannot grasp.
"Uh, cool robot design, boss, very Japanese, but... why are you showing me this?" Rhonda asked.
"You and I both saw how Arnold and his little team did. Or, rather, how he had to pull all their weight." Vlad said.
"Yeah. He hasn't lost a step, but the guys he picked up didn't even take their first baby steps. They sucked."
"They don't suck, they're just inexperienced. They've only first met very recently, a rag-tag team of defenders, and they've never had the chance to work as a team until now. Nobody gets it right the first time. Of course, by now, they should be training to work as one, if they're smart."
"But you don't trust them enough to?"
"I do, but training's only one half of the picture. They had to go through their first task heuristically, take a test and learn the lesson later. Now, it's time for a little didactics: They're learning their lessons, and they need a new test, let them put their knowledge in practice."
"And that involves a giant robot?"
"Yes, it does. Speaking of which, I'd like to you meet the mind behind this little piece of work."
Pressing a buzzer on his desk, Vlad prompted the opening of his office door, which out of it stepped a young lady with tall hair and large red glasses, standing before Vlad and Rhonda in an awkward manner. The very presence of her highest-ranking superior was intimidating to the young woman, and her lack of social skills began to show as a result.
"Um... You wanted to see me, sir?" The woman asked.
"Yes, I did. Rhonda, meet Nora Wakeman, she's a new recruit at VladCo, got some very promising work on robotics." Vlad said.
"Uh, hello, ma'am. This is your, um, secretary, sir?"
"Yes, she is. And I'm not sleeping with her, if that's what you're insinuating."
"Oh, no, sir! I would never, I was just-!"
Vlad began laughing in response to Nora's apologies, chuckling at his own prank.
"Just kidding. You seemed like you could use a laugh." Vlad said.
"Oh, uh, heh. Very funny, sir." Nora chuckled.
"Now, Rhonda and I were looking through our little backlog of projects and ideas from our scientists, all those wild ideas that get left on the cutting room floor, and we noticed this little beauty you whipped up: The Armagedroid."
"Armagedroid? Oh, yes, sir, I intended to come up with a means of a non-lethal way to subdue enemy forces, or be used as a peacekeeping force. We all know the dangers of weapons in all their forms, so my solution was that of an anti-weapon weapon; something meant to track down and destroy all forms of weapons to minimize violence while preserving and protecting life."
"And your way of accomplishing that is a giant robot that eats weapons."
"Well, I was always interested in the idea of robots being more human, sir. And it doesn't necessarily 'eat' weapons, it melts them down and-"
"No, no, it's perfect, Mrs. Wakeman. I happen to like it exactly as it is."
"Oh! Why, thank you, sir. But, um, it's 'Ms.' Wakeman, I'm not married."
"Of course. Well, Ms. Wakeman, Rhonda here will be in charge of the project from here on out."
"Sorry, I beg your pardon, sir?"
"Rhonda will give you anything and everything you need to finish the project. I'll be needing it in two days."
The spontaneous addition of responsibilities added to the young Nora Wakeman made her grow more nervous, questioning the statistics of the project.
"W-Within two days? Sir, I don't believe you understand the complexity and scale of the work to be done, much less the price tag to it all." Nora stammered.
Vlad began writing a check as soon as Nora finished her sentence, scribbling off a number and his signature as fast as he tore the check out.
"Would this be enough to get a head-start?" Vlad asked.
The sheer amount of zeroes on the check made Nora nearly faint as she read them, even her genius mind unable to calculate the number.
"Oh, my... Um... Well... If your secretary is overseeing things, sir, I just might be able to accomplish your deadline." Nora said.
"Excellent. Oh, and, Nora? This is a little something we'll be keeping to ourselves, so no talking to anyone about this except me and Rhonda." Vlad added.
"No worries, sir, your secret is safe with me. I live alone and don't have any friends, just my robots. Oh, that's a bit sad saying that out loud, isn't it?"
"Right now, it's that robotically-inclined mind I need. But do bear in mind that a big reward is in store for you."
"Oh, of course, sir! Um, Rhonda, was it? If you'll come along with me, we'll have to begin planning. First of all, we'll need a large, empty space, preferably a decommissioned hangar..."
Nora and Rhonda exited the room of Vlad Masters, off to complete the task laid out for them to accomplish. Watching two of his subordinates leave the room, Vlad pressed his fingers together in a scheming way, imagining his plan running through his head and all the conceivable ways it could go.
He knows not how it will go, but he places his trust in the Clockwork that it will go well.
-
In the home of Professor Membrane, the aforementioned mad scientist is nowhere to be found, but his son and daughter are left to their own devices, literally so in the case of the latter, with Gaz seen staring at a GameSlave with relentless and borderline meditative focus.
Dib Membrane, on the other hand, has trekked across the country on the mobile home of the Thornberry family, recruiting various heroes for the purpose of thwarting an incoming alien invasion. His mission has secured all but 2 of those he sought out, with the addition of Buckley Lloyd and the rest of the Loud family and friends joining the battle.
What remains is to train for battle, and learn as much about the Irken enemy as possible.
But no battle can be fought on an empty stomach, and it is taken upon the Loud parents and Thornberry family to prepare protein-heavy meals for the fighters, keeping their bodies properly fueled for the training to come, and see that all strength gained is kept for the fight.
With a learned chef like Lynn Loud, Sr. as the head of the kitchen, the fighters are not lacking in a diversity of foods. Pancakes cooked with protein powder are among the most popular item requested by the team, with breakfast burritos being a close second, and enough eggs to qualify as a genocide of the chicken species.
As the old saying goes: 'If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen', but that is not an option for anyone, forcing themselves to see the task through to the end. Marianne flipped away at a pancake to serve up to the next hungry fighter, stacking atop of 3 others, hurriedly buttering up her pan to move onto the next pancake to cook, all while relying on her bandanna to hold off her sweat.
"Dear god, I've never cooked so much food in my life before. Is this what it's like to feed your own family?" Marianne asked.
"Ha! Try running your own restaurant. I'm the head chef and owner for a reason." Lynn Sr. quipped.
"But you do get used to it over time. A few days of this should be no problem for folks like you." Rita added.
Another serving of protein pancakes is made to Luna Loud, who took her helping with a wide smile with freshly-licked lips.
"She put the cream in my coffee, first thing in the morning, put that butter on my biscuit, honeydew my melons, cherries on bananas, gonna need a second helpin', you know I'm up for breakfast, so early in the morning!" Luna sang.
As Luna stepped away with her breakfast, Marianne took a small towel and patted herself on the head, her bandanna failing to capture all her sweat.
"Let's hope." Marianne sighed.
"Oh, come now, Marianne, no need to see the job as daunting. You know as good old Mary Poppins said: 'In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun'!" Nigel cheered.
"So I'm told."
"It could be worse, Marianne. You could be trapped in a Soviet submarine in American waters, trying to defect while everyone's trying to sink you and your crew, leading to the start of World War 3."
Hungry for her own helping of breakfast, Ronnie Anne stepped forward with an empty plate, requesting her serving of food.
"Okay, pal, we get it, the audience gets it, you're voiced by Tim Curry. Can you hold the references to your other movies and serve me up some burritos already? My metabolism means I need about 10, at least." Ronnie Anne demanded.
The statement, understandable only to her in this plane of existence, is completely lost on both Nigel and Marianne, who looked at each other with confusion. The lack of understanding is followed with the simple placing of a burrito, following one after the other until the amount reached her minimum of 10.
"Er, yes, here you go, little one, bon appetit." Nigel smiled.
"Thanks. Personally, I liked you best in The Shadow. You made a funny wimpy bad guy. Reminds me of somebody I fought once." Ronnie Anne replied.
Once again is Nigel completely confused to the girl's statement, and Marianne is just as in the dark as her husband.
"What the devil was that all about?" Nigel asked.
"I haven't the foggiest, Nigel." Marianne replied.
At the dining table, all devoured their meals with delight, but there are those who sought out extra condiments to see that their breakfast would be more to their satisfaction. With his taste buds altered by irradiation, Lincoln sought out for his pancakes not the usual toppings of berries, whipped cream, or even the essential topping of maple syrup...
...but instead sliced dill pickles, habanero jelly, spray cheese, and ketchup.
The concoction is delicious to Lincoln, but those surrounding him looked at the abomination of food with disgust, barely able to eat their own food.
"Oh, sorry, you guys want some?" Lincoln offered.
"Sure, I'll take a hit." Twister said.
Giving the condiments over to Twister, Lincoln allowed the skater cinematographer to use the same condiments as him, all to the further disgust of the others, and the confusion as to how anyone besides Lincoln would enjoy the toppings. Placing the toppings on his own food, Twister took a bite of his own crime against the culinary arts, smiling in delight.
"Mmm, that is good!" Twister cheered.
Not yet willing to take the condiments for himself, Carlos stole himself a bite of Twister's serving, eating a bite of the pancakes. His reaction is not one of disgust or delight, but instead a more intellectually curious approach, attempting to analyze it further to come to his own answer.
"Not bad, it's got potential." Carlos said.
-
Breakfast is finished in a delicate balance between haste and leisure, with all parties ensuring that their bodies were full and fueled, ready to begin the first of three days of training more intense than any of them had ever known. Their bodies are given much-needed nutrition and energy to being a hard next few days...
...but there is one member of the fighting force that missed out on breakfast, and is put at a disadvantage.
Clyde McBride has held a borderline fetishistic obsession with Lori Loud ever since he first laid eyes on her, maintaining a personal collection of many items associated with her for his own pleasure, further fueling his delusional dream of becoming her husband.
Lori already possessed a boyfriend of her own, but this fact did not deter him in any way, shape, or form, although it culminated with a sharp punch to his face from Bobby Santiago, the aforementioned boyfriend of Lori Loud. Having served his purpose of breaking Tak through torture, consisting of just allowing him to speak, he has remained forgotten by the rest.
As such, he was left on the floor of the garage, just now waking up from his punch-induced coma. Still does his head hurt from the traumatic injury it received, and he began rubbing it in pain as he rose from the ground. Opening his eyes to see most of the fighting force standing at attention, his pain was compounded by confusion as he failed to grasp what was happening.
Lincoln, however, stepped forward and pulled him with the others to join them.
"Clyde, finally, you're up." Lincoln greeted.
"Oh, man, Lincoln, my head feels so weird. Bobby sure can pack a punch." Clyde groaned.
"Don't worry about that, he said he was sorry. Well, actually, he told me he was sorry for punching you, not that he was sorry he punched you in the first place. But nevermind that, c'mon, training's about to start."
"Huh?"
"Training. The Green Eye's gonna teach us how to fight the Irkens."
"That's Arnold, Lincoln. Apparently I haven't made it clear that I don't go by that name anymore." Arnold declared.
The commanding voice of Arnold Shortman brings all members of the fighting force to attention, standing in line as their instructor stepped forward to address the team. With all fighters congregated in the garage, with Arnold standing at the ready and Lynn Loud to his side, the hand-to-hand combat training had begun.
"Alright, everyone. Yesterday, you all failed to capture a single Irken invader, and left it up to me to capture her by the skin of my teeth, the assist from Rudy notwithstanding. That was just one Irken. We've got enough coming to our planet to kill and enslave every man, woman and child on it. If you think I'm going to take that on all by myself, I've got a bridge to sell you. That's why I'm going to personally make sure each and every one of you are in peak fighting condition, come hell or high water. Whatever experience you think you have no longer counts. You are all basic trainees, and I'm going to be treating every one of you like you're idiots, because, as far as I'm concerned, you are. We're not getting in your average street brawl, not that any of you have even been in one. We're going to war, and war has consequences. You're hit, you're dead. There's no coming back from that." Arnold barked.
The serious tone which Arnold gave his speech gained the full at utmost attention of the team, but Otto Rocket, brash as he always was, took to it with less seriousness than the others, smirking and scoffing at many of the comments made. His sarcastic approach is not lost upon Arnold, who called it out.
"You have something to add to the conversation, Otto?" Arnold asked.
"Just can't help but love the whole 'Captain America' routine. It's a little too try-hard for my tastes." Otto chuckled.
Reggie nudged her brother in his side, prompting him to stop his interruption.
"Otto." Reggie scolded.
"This isn't a joke, Otto. If you knew half of the shit that happened in Hillwood, you'd know that this is no joke we're dealing with, and it only makes what I dealt with back then look like a picnic. If you're not taking this as seriously as I am, then you have no clue what's coming." Arnold said.
"No, no, man, I believe you, I do, but... You really expect us to be ready with just 3 days of prep time, and a chick still in high school's supposed to help train us? I've handled dangerous assholes like Lars up close and personal, I doubt she's got anything to teach me." Otto chuckled.
Arnold looked to Lynn upon hearing Otto's comment on her, seeing a killer instinct in her eyes start to glimmer as she smiled. Looking to Arnold for approval, Lynn received it as he nodded his head, looking back to Otto with a smirk of his own, planning to repay his insubordinate comments with a fitting punishment.
"Alright, Otto. You think you can take her down, be my guest and step up first. But be warned: I did take the opportunity to screen her skills and see where her level is. She's pretty impressive for her age, and I became the Gre- Started my mission when I was just a year older than her, and I had years of training myself." Arnold cautioned.
"Pfft, this is nothing. I got this." Otto scoffed.
Stepping up to Lynn, Otto raised his fists in a fighting stance, ready to fight the young kickboxer with the full expectation of winning...
"I wouldn't want to go hurting a little girl like you, so don't mind if I go a little soft on you-" Otto began to say.
Before he could finish his taunt, Lynn drove her foot into Otto's crotch in a sharp kick, landing directly into his testicles. The impact to his gonads cut his taunt short, making him learn over and groan, clutching his injured genitals in agony. His lean forward allowed Lynn to follow with a knee driven to his face, knocking him down to the floor.
Falling on his back, Lynn jumped on top of Otto and pressed her knees against his neck, lightly shortening his air supply and causing him to choke.
Witnessing their first taste of the training to come and its full intensity, the team stood in silence, the air only sounding with Otto's choking noises, and their eyes wide in fear. As Lynn continued to hold down her opponent with glee, Arnold looked back to the team with a confident glare, once again establishing his authority.
"That's the level of intensity you're in for over the next 3 days; breaks will be at a minimum, your meals will always be large and protein-rich, and you will be hurting after each session. A lot. That means you'll be giving it your all, and anything less than that not only risks your own life, but the lives of several others on Earth. Any questions?" Arnold asked.
There is one brave enough to raise their hand, but it only comes slowly from Lincoln Loud, who cannot help but ask a question regarding their success.
"How are we going to beat the Irkens if we're going to be too tired from all this? Shouldn't we get some rest?" Lincoln asked.
"You get all the rest you need when you sleep. Besides that, you can rest when all the Irkens are dead." Arnold said.
Arnold stepped over to Otto, looking at him still remaining subdued by Lynn.
"And that means you'd better do a hell of a lot better. And, Lynn, you can't rely on weak points like that. Irkens don't have any balls to kick." Arnold said.
"That's okay, I can take them down just as easy, and I can take you down anytime I want, Otto Rocket. Got anything to say for yourself?" Lynn asked.
In spite of being choked, Otto cannot help but notice that Lynn's crotch was very close to his face, creating mixed feelings regarding his situation.
"Please be 18... Or at least 16..." Otto choked.
-
While training begins for the fighters, the science-minded members of the group, alongside Dib and Eliza, entered Zim's home, beginning their search for the entrance to his secret lair. The first search had been unsuccessful with the first raid on the house, this search is done at leisure, and with eyes trained to see things that no one else could.
"We looked up and down the place and left no stone unturned. We couldn't find the entrance to his underground lair, if he even has one." Sam said.
"He has one. I'm sure of it." Dib said.
"Is there any place you didn't check?" Penny asked.
"I told you, no." Sam said.
"I mean, any place you didn't think to look, like it was too unlikely? Something you might've overlooked?"
Sam's first instinct is to answer 'no' again, but a small reminder in his head makes him pause, and subsequently groan at the sheer stupidity of it.
"Well... Okay... There was one place we didn't check, but..." Sam started to say.
"But what?" Eliza asked.
The search party soon found themselves at the toilet, looking in the empty bowl of water in disbelief, with Sam cringing as he shook his head.
"The toilet?" Lisa asked.
"Yeah, I know it's stupid, but it's literally the only place we didn't check. But you can see for yourself there's nothing there, so, now, it's been checked." Sam said.
"Well, we still don't know where his underground lair is. I guess that means we have to start digging." Dib said.
"It'd be an awful lot of work to dig deep enough to find the lair, and that's assuming we can even find the exact location of it." Penny said.
"Correct. And we'd need to hire sheveral diggersh and cranesh, ash well ash an entire crew to-" Lisa trailed.
Being oriented towards logical thinking is a gift, and one that leads to paths to knowledge and higher education, but there is a distinction between knowledge and wisdom. Knowledge encompasses facts, trivia, technicalities, and all that can be learned out of a book...
...but Eliza is not a scientific type as they are, and carries more wisdom of the world. In contrast to knowledge, wisdom comes with the accumulation of experience, seeing cause and effect alike, seeing theory put into practice, and often seeing what goes overlooked by those who look inwards to find answers.
Her knowledge is to simply flush the toilet, which made the same noise as expected as a toilet when it flushes, gaining the attention of the others and stopping them mid-scheme. Once the toilet flushed, it had sunk beneath the floor, giving way to a tunnel that led to the underground base of Zim, at last revealing it.
After taking their time to take in the sudden appearance of the tunnel, the group looked at Eliza, who smiled and crossed her arms.
"I get you guys are smart... but, sometimes, you gotta think simple." Eliza said.
"Nobody tell Twister about this. He'll never let me live it down." Sam groaned.
A descent down the tunnel via an elevator is what brings them to the base below, giving them their first foray into the inner workings of an Irken base.
The base itself appeared as though it grew rather than was constructed, but in a manner more like a cancer, in that it acted against its surroundings rather than with them. Bright purples, reds, pinks, and magentas show all throughout the base, and through the tunnels could also be seen several off-splitting veins, heading through the underground and reaching neither the lair nor house above.
"Where do you think those lead to?" Eliza asked.
"The alien shtill hash sheveral electronicsh and advanshced technology. I shay theshe lead to nearby utilitiesh for electrishcity and water." Lisa speculated.
"Irkens can't take water. That much I learned from Zim." Dib added.
"But your city doesn't have effective water filtration systems. There's still a variable in that toxins in the water hurt him, not necessarily the water itself." Penny commented.
"Oh... That's something I didn't consider. And that does explain why the water in our house tastes like metallic."
"You mean, your father's one of the smartest people on Earth, and he didn't put in a water filtration system of his own?" Sam asked.
"Sure, but I took that out, because it added fluoride to our water."
Hearing yet another of Dib's asinine conspiracy theories put into practice, the group all looked at him with discomfort, collaborating with each other after.
"You guys have a water filtration system in the Comvee, right?" Sam whispered.
"Of course we do." Eliza whispered.
"Right, well, that thing's gonna be working overtime from now on. And we're shopping for bottled water."
The descent led to the ear pressure of those in the elevator increasing, making the group all groan in pain as their ears began to pop. Plugging their noses and exhaling through their noses, the group performed the Valsalva maneuver, countering the increasing pressure by adding pressure to their own ears.
Dib, however, lacked the sanity to realize the situation, falling to knees and screaming.
"Oh, god! It's Zim's base defenses! They've already fired off invisible lasers to melt my brain and make it explode! I can feel the pressure rising as my own brain starts to cook!" Dib screamed.
"That's your ear presshure, shtupid." Lisa bemoaned.
Hearing her simple explanation, Dib got up and also performed the Valsalva maneuver, adjusting the pressure of his ears.
"I knew that." Dib lied.
Reaching the bottom of the elevator, the group exited to begin exploring Zim's underground lair upon finally reaching it. More of the same as what they saw within the elevator they can see, witnessing growths of Irken technology all about the secret subterranean facility.
"These things make sure to keep themselves comfortable. It looks like he has enough resources to last decades on our planet." Eliza commented.
"Zim wasn't supposed to even be on a real mission. It's possible they gave him extra supplies just to keep him out of the way." Sam speculated.
"Plaushible. I do the shame when I want to keep my shiblingsh away." Lisa commented.
"So, our entire planet's going to fall under alien rule because the big, evil empire was too lazy to deal with a troublesome idiot from within. I'm sure there's a lesson in there somewhere."
"Zim will conquer nothing. I'll see to that myself." Dib swore.
"Oh, yeah? How come you never stopped him before?"
Dib opened his mouth to respond, only to close it again when he failed to find any words that would redeem his image. Desperate to change the conversation, Dib looked about to find something worthy of the others' attention, soon locating the main computer to the base.
"Uh, look! It's Zim's main computer!" Dib called.
The distraction worked in Dib's favor, but it does attract attention to something worth further inspection all the same, leading them to walk up to it.
"Okay, Sam, this is your specialty. Think you can get us more information off the computer?" Penny asked.
Looking at the keyboard to the computer, Sam's initial excitement to hack into it is stopped by the language barrier presented to him.
"Get information? I can't even read this. It's all in his language. We'll have to get Arnold, he can speak and read any language." Sam bemoaned.
"Acshtually, no, he can't. He only shpeaksh and readsh every human language, because he learned them all. Mind you, I only know thish becaushe my idiot brother would not ceashe hish inshcesshant gushing over hish abilitiesh. Hish obshesshion with Arnold Shortman bordersh on homoerotishcishm." Lisa corrected.
"Then we'll have to get Tak to translate it for us. Of course, that's assuming she doesn't sabotage us and doesn't just give us a kill-code to the entire system instead."
"Well, I believe Eliza may be of some help." Penny said.
"Huh? Me?" Eliza asked.
"You can talk to animals, can't you?"
Eliza bit her lip in refusal to answer, which was explained by Dib.
"Yes, but she can't tell you. The catch to her power is that she can't tell anyone, or else she loses it. But, fortunately, that left out a little loophole for me to know, and share with the rest of us." Dib explained.
"You mean after you threatened to out me to the U.K. and have them experiment on me?" Eliza asked.
Eliza's comment gained surprised reactions and subsequent angry glares from the rest, making Dib gulp nervously
"Well, uh, I mean... It was all in the interest of the good of the world. B-But, listen, shouldn't we focus on Zim's computer for right now?" Dib stammered.
"I think we can take a break to beat your scrawny ass." Sam growled.
Eliza stepped in at Dib's defense, lowering Sam's hands as he cracked his knuckles.
"No, he's right. We don't have the time to fight each other right now. You saw what happens to the planet if Zim wins. We can't afford that." Eliza reasoned.
Though no pleasure comes to him for doing so, Sam let down his anger, sighing as he did so.
"Okay. Fine. But he's still a dead man either way. So, you can talk to animals. What good is that here?" Sam asked.
"No, don't you see? Irkens are animals, too. If she can speak Irken, maybe she can read their language." Penny realized.
"The logic ish bashed on shupershtitionsh and conshceptsh of magic, but I concur it may work." Lisa added.
"Wait, read Irken?" Eliza asked.
"What's the matter? You've talked to plenty of animals on Earth before. What's the difference when it's an animal from another planet?" Sam asked.
"Speaking and writing are two different things. No animal on Earth has a written language like we do. The closest thing there is to any physical language with animals are marking their territory, like a bear scratching a tree, or experiments done with chimpanzees and dolphins. That's nowhere near close to having a full, complex language system."
"It's worth a try, at least, isn't it?" Penny asked.
There is still uncertainty in Eliza's heart as she contemplated the idea and logic behind it, but the risks are next to nonexistent, warranting at least a try.
"Uh... Okay, I'll try. No promises." Eliza said.
Stepping up to the computer's keyboard with hesitation, Eliza looked upon the various characters written across it, squinting her eyes in her attempt to read the Irken language. Familiar only passingly with other languages other than English in her worldly experiences, this is the first time she has attempted to use her power to read another language, and one not of this Earth.
"I... I don't think it works on writing. Nothing's coming to me." Eliza sighed.
Disappointment comes to the group, who found another roadblock in their path of discovering new Irken technology.
"Well, thanks for trying anyway. I guess we'll have to get Tak to translate it for us, assuming she doesn't just lie and try to sabotage us-" Sam began to say.
"Wait." Eliza interrupted.
Eliza's call beckoned the group to look at her, watching and waiting for what event she called their attention to. Continuing to stare at the keyboard, Eliza's squinting eyes widened to their normal aperture, reading the alien language in a more relaxed manner than her analytical look she previously gave it...
...and, lightly running her hands across the keyboard, she began speaking aloud the names of the letters of the Irken alphabet, speaking alien words never before heard by human ears until now. All stood at her accomplishment in surprise and excitement at Eliza, but none more so than Dib.
"Eliza, you did it!" Penny cheered.
"Oh, it was actually pretty easy after giving it a second. I took a few guesses on how one letter was pronounced, then hit the right one, and moved on until I got the rest of them. Once you get the vowels down, everything else's simple. Sort of like putting together math equations. At least, I think so. I'm not a math girl." Eliza explained.
"Then we have a way of accshesshing the computer, and a transhlator. Open up what you can." Lisa ordered.
Moving her hands to the keyboard, Eliza began typing on it, only to have a loud tone sound from the computer, and a glaring red message on screen.
"What, what happened?" Dib asked.
"It won't work unless I have a password. And we can't find out what it is without Zim." Eliza bemoaned.
"Damn! So close, yet so-"
"Hang on. I have an idea for that. Eliza, can you spell out Zim's name on the keyboard?" Sam interrupted.
"Uh... 'Z'... 'I'... 'M'... Yeah." Eliza said.
"Enter that."
As she did as instructed with skepticism, Eliza's action based on Sam's idea gained a scoff of superiority from Dib.
"Oh, please. You think it's really going to be that easy to get in his computer?" Dib asked.
"[Access granted.]" The computer said in Irken.
"What was that?"
"It worked. I'm in the computer." Eliza said.
Once again do the efforts made so far get excitement and cheers from their success, but this time Dib is left at a loss at the recent accomplishment.
"What-? How did you know?" Dib asked.
"I've been running my own computer store for years. If there's one thing you learn from working in computers, people are absolute morons when it comes to security. I figured, if this alien is as stupid as you say, he's just as bad when it comes to basic security skills." Sam explained.
"Oh... Yeah... Right... That makes total sense..."
Nodding along in agreement, Dib quietly stepped back with suspicious eyes darting back and forth, pulling out a paper notebook to write in it.
"Note to self: Change the password on my crypto hard drive and my futa hentai collection." Dib whispered.
-
The different teams split up for their different tasks all leave the prisoner of war named Tak alone and isolated in her prison, left neglected and forgotten until she is meant to serve a purpose towards her own species' destruction and defeat, or perhaps to be executed for her crimes against the Earth.
Both are possibilities that Tak considered during her capture, and she spends her time now pondering more of what awaits her, festering in her defeated attitude, assured that her fate is all but inevitable. Having already shared many secrets of the Irken Empire with her enemies, the idea of death becomes welcoming to the would-be Irken invader.
However, while her existence has gained distrust and fear from the rest of the fighters, it has also gained interest from one of the humans, who decided to pay her a visit. The young Carlos Sanchez, the son of Penny Sanchez and adopted son of Rudy Tabootie, peered around the corner to view Tak, satisfying some of his interest in the alien.
Tak has spent much of her time isolated on another planet, save for her now-absent robot companion, becoming even less social and warm than a standard Irken. Watching out for any potential threat from the humans as prey would look out for a predator, Tak flinched back in instinctual fear upon noticing Carlos.
The introduction is not how he would have preferred to make it, but Carlos proceeded nonetheless.
"Hi." Carlos said.
"What do you want? Are you another form of torture they sent to me? Was it not enough that I told them all I knew?" Tak sneered.
In the manner of a cornered animal, Tak's voice spoke out in overconfidence with a hint of fear, but Carlos merely stepped out from the corner calmly.
"Not gonna hurt you." Carlos said.
"Then why are you here?" Tak asked.
"Wanted to come see you."
"For what purpose?"
"Just because. You looked lonely in there."
Tak does not understand the motives of Carlos, who approached her further before she could question them, now forced to protest.
"Keep back!" Tak jumped.
"Calm down. Not gonna hurt you. Just want to visit. Um... If that's okay." Carlos said.
Carlos stood in place, now nervously hiding his hands behind his back and leaning down, pivoting his foot back and forth by his toes. The act shows vulnerability and a clear disarmament, making Tak temporarily drop her defenses, looking on Carlos with confusion over his actions.
"What is this... 'visit' you wish to do to me, human?" Tak asked.
"Come spend some time with you. Be near you." Carlos said.
"Why?"
"Because I just do."
"But why?"
"I just do. That's all there is to it."
Curiosity now fuels Tak as she fully lowered her defenses, keeping a careful eye on Carlos to maintain her vigilance.
"Fine, human. You may come closer. I suppose, with this barrier between us, you cannot harm me anymore than I can harm you." Tak said.
"Not gonna hurt you." Carlos said.
Walking up to Tak's isolation unit, Carlos sat down in front of it, happily staring at the alien inside. The gesture is not one that Tak is familiar with, and does not know how to react to, but it makes her uncomfortable nonetheless, feeling her defenses raise in an instinctual way.
"What are you doing? Why are you staring at me?" Tak asked.
"Just want to look at you." Carlos said.
"Why?"
"Because I like to. You're cool to look at."
"Oh, so I'm some zoo exhibit to you, am I? Human larvae have a sick penchant for gawking at their captured enemies?"
"No. I just think you're cool. Feels good to look at you."
Tak once again reacted in confusion, unsure how to process Carlos' form of affection.
"You act very friendly to someone who just fought the other humans you caucus with. Do you not see me as an enemy?" Tak asked.
"No." Carlos said.
"Hmph. How strange."
"Think maybe you're just with the wrong people. Need to be around the right people."
"What does that mean?"
"You act mean and fight because you came from mean people who fight. Maybe you'll be nice if you be around nicer people. I want to be nice to you."
A blank stare is all Tak can muster in response to Carlos' explanation, with a light scoff and smirk following.
"You don't act the same as the other humans. You are different." Tak observed.
"Everyone's different." Carlos said.
"Not like you. Your speech patterns and behavioral traits are different from the others amongst us."
"I'm Autistic."
"Is that what you humans call your Defects?"
"Not defective, I'm Autistic. I just think and act a little different. Doesn't mean I'm less."
"Then you are a Defect by Irken definition. A deviancy in the personality that is expected of greater Irken society. Is that not accurate to your own station?"
"A little, I guess."
"You seem to have grown well and appear well-fed. Do humans not exterminate their Defects?"
"No."
"So, they let you exist freely. How interesting. You should be thankful you have not been pulped and mulched, human. That is a fate that awaits Defects on our home planet."
"Sounds terrible."
"It is for the betterment of our society, and meant to breed only the strongest. If my memory serves me right, your own planet practiced this in the land called Sparta, where Defect human children were cast out."
"Was wrong then. We realized it and knew better."
"Wrong how? A Defect serves no purpose to its empire; it is not in full physical condition, nor is it mentally fit to serve."
"Not all places on Earth are empires that only do war. Most of people value other people and life. Let everyone live regardless of who they are."
The very concept of egalitarianism as explained by Carlos is so foreign to Tak to hear, yet so intriguing for reasons she does not like to think about, making her fight back against said feelings to ensure they remain out of her mind. Having no other desire to continue the subject discussed, Tak moved onto another.
"The human who captured me. I've seen him with you, he acts more affectionate to you and the smaller one accompanying you, in the same way the female human holds you. But he does not bear a strong resemblance to you. Is he not your progenitor?" Tak asked.
"He's my dad. He married my mom after my father left." Carlos said.
"You said 'dad' and 'father' in separate terms. Explain further."
"My father was the man who my mom had me with. He left. Rudy's my dad now."
"How does that work?"
"He takes care of me. He helps me when I need help. He loves me."
"He protects you as his own offspring, even when you are not."
"I'm his son, and he's my dad."
"By some human ritual or custom, no doubt. Nonetheless, he does this of his own volition? What is his gain?"
"I love him."
"Yes, I'm sure, but what does he get out of tending to you?"
"I love him."
Tak narrowed her eyes once more, failing to understand the concepts that Carlos was explaining to her.
"I find your ways very strange and confusing, human." Tak said.
"That's why I'm helping to explain them." Carlos said.
"From what I do understand about your species, I fail to see why you do what you do. It's small wonder why the Tallest overlooked this planet at first, they must've viewed you as so unimportant that your planet was not worth conquering."
"Everybody's worth something. Even you."
Carlos' kind demeanor and compliments continue to confuse Tak, leaving her uncertain of how to respond to many of his statements.
"If this is some attempt to sway me to your side and betray the Empire in full, human, your efforts are for naught. Though I failed the Empire and the Tallest, I shall still receive whatever punishment is due unto me." Tak scoffed.
"Why?" Carlos asked.
"Because it is part of being Irken. You are a cog in a greater machine, meant to make it run and function. The Irken war machine meant to conquer and destroy. If you cannot serve that machine, you serve no purpose, and do not deserve to live."
"What's so great about being an Irken, then?"
This is a question Tak has never been asked before, and forced to think and contemplate ideas that she has never before recognized or known, or perhaps had at one point only to repress them. The distinction is without a difference, as Tak pondered the question and found no answer to give to the young human.
Refusing to be seen as vulnerable or embarrass the Irken Empire, Tak took offense to the question, lashing out against it.
"It is... It is an honor to be an Irken! The greatest honor one could hope for! It is not something that a puny human like yourself could hope to fathom. How ridiculous a question that is to ask me, human. Really, you should be ashamed of yourself for even asking my such a stupid question." Tak scoffed.
Seeing that Tak's hostility would not come to an end, Carlos got up from his self-made seat, making the irken react with a face that only slightly sunk at the gesture. Neither seemed to consciously notice the facial reaction, but Carlos' main focus was to reach into his bag, pulling out a comic book.
Stepping up to a feeding tray, Carlos inserted the comic and slid the tray inside, offering it to Tak, who looked at it in confused curiosity.
"What is this thing?" Tak asked.
"A comic book. I brought it to you because I thought you might be bored in there." Carlos explained.
"A... comic... book?"
"Open it."
Doing as Carlos suggested, Tak flipped open the first page to a series of small drawings arranged in panels to tell a story, the illustrations blending together to form an animation that played out in her head. Intuition allowed her to understand the medium almost immediately, but the purpose of the work is beyond her limited understanding.
Looking back at the cover of the comic book, it was titled 'FRANKENSTEIN'S REVENGE', sporting Frankenstein's Monster with comically large firearms reminiscent of the antiheroes of the 1990s, with a cast of horror characters all standing behind him, and Doctor Victor Frankenstein menacingly standing above the cast.
Still does she not understand the work, leaving her more confused to the gift than before.
"What purpose does this document serve?" Tak asked.
"To entertain." Carlos explained.
"'Entertain'?"
"To make you feel something, make you change the way you think. It's art."
"Art? Pfft. Irkens have no concept of art, human."
"Why not?"
"Irkens exist for war. We exist to conquer and destroy. Art serves no purpose to the purpose of the Irken Empire."
"Sounds like you need it a lot, then. Art helps you discover who you are."
"I know who I am, human! I am an Irken Invader! My status has merely been temporarily embarrassed by the incompetence and destructive habits of Zim. Know this yourself, human. I have killed many in my own mission, abandoned on a distant planet and assumed a fleeing coward by the Empire. I slew the populace of the insignificant planet as a mere warm-up for the theater of battle I will see here. I will seek my revenge on Zim, I will redeem myself in the eyes of the Tallest. Your puny art means nothing to me, nor your feeble, pathetic attempts to curry my favor. I will kill you. I will kill your family. I will kill every member of your species."
Tak's offended response was concluded by throwing the comic book against the wall, wishing it would hit Carlos. The gesture of having his gift rejected finally brought his face to express dauntingness, looking down with lips pursing ever so slightly, fighting back against his own emotions as not to appear sad before Tak.
"Well, human? Have you nothing else to say? Giving up already?" Tak asked.
"I think nobody's ever really cared about you." Carlos said.
Carlos' observation is yet another that brings Tak to confusion in being forced to confront a new and unfamiliar feeling.
"What does that mean?" Tak asked.
"You never had a mom or dad, brother or sister, or friends. Those are people who care about you." Carlos explained.
"Your point?"
"The Irken Empire doesn't care if you live or die. They just want to use you."
"And you want to use me, whether you acknowledge it or not. Your species exists only to propagate and sustain itself. You want to sway me towards believing your species deserves to exist. That is the purpose behind all sentient life-forms."
"That's because everyone has a right to exist. Including you. And I want you to exist."
"And I suppose that's what it means to 'care', as you put it?"
"Yes."
Much is communicated towards Tak to think over, given her first opportunity to speak to a human and have a philosophical conversation, seeing perspectives she never previously thought or considered. They are thoughts that have been deeply implanted in her mind, and are there to stay to be processed and analyzed later on, conflicting with Tak's own preprogramming from the Irken Empire to reach a new thought.
Silence is what Tak stood in, unsure of what to make of said ideas, leaving Carlos to look at her.
"I have to go now. Read the comic. I really think you'll like it." Carlos said.
Stepping out of the room, Carlos vanished to join the rest, leaving Tak alone. Before his arrival, she had merely sought solitude, something she received in great quantity after her capture, but the absence of Carlos had now created a void his very presence had created, making the solitude far less desired than before.
Denial and defiance rise high in Tak, resisting the thoughts and ideas shared to her from the young boy. Trained and raised in the ways of the Irken Empire, an opposing view is alien and threatening to her, and self-assurances are made over and over in the hopes that her upbringing will prevail.
However, it does not seem as though it is.
Curiosity is what gets the better of her as she glanced at the gifted comic, feeling her curiosity grow more intense as she looked upon the enticing artwork and bright colors. The cover of the comic promises an intriguing story and fun within, enough to lure even the most pickiest of comic fans.
Reaching out for the comic book, Tak picked it up, opening to the first page.
And what Carlos had given unto her slowly began to be accepted.
-
A slow, quiet, and painless death is what Helga Pataki looks forward to.
Under the care of her elder sister, she has been gently pushed into directions of life that would promise her joy and prosperity, but nothing in life has given her interest or a desire to continue. There was but one source of divinity that gave her the desire for life, and, deprived of it, nothing else has a purpose.
Joy is nearly unattainable to her, leaving her in a state of numbness and tiredness that makes her little more than a listless vessel through life. Natural highs that would appeal to others do not appeal to her, leaving her broken and empty inside, making even the most basic of tasks of little interest to her, and a Herculean effort just to perform the motions to complete them.
All that provides her with any semblance of happiness is the use of heroin for an artificial high, giving her a different sort of numb that takes away the internal pain of her own soul. Unlike her sorrow, this numbness makes the pain of life no longer eat at her, and instead make life tolerable for but a small moment of time.
With yet another injection into her body, her arms and legs began to grow heavy, with the rest of her getting warm, as though she was in the comfort of a womb once again. Her breathing slowed to a pace almost impossible to notice, as though she were already dead, but enough oxygen reached her brain to allow her to survive, making her current state like that of a state of being half-awake and half-asleep.
It is a hit that she has gotten many times before, but the high does not last.
What used to last for hours only lasted for nearly one, giving her only a taste of what she once felt. The tolerance she has built to the drug has made her immune to its effects, and left initially confused, then frustrated at the lack of release she desired from the heroin.
Her initial reaction is to load another hit and inject it in herself, but further thought prevails, giving her the idea of changing up her current cut of heroin for that of a stronger variation, getting a dosage and purity that would once again give her the escape from the real world that she needed.
Going for her phone, she began to dial for her dealer to retrieve what she needed.
"It's Helga. The old stuff isn't doing it anymore. I need you to step it up." Helga said.
Chapter 24: Chapter 22: The Dirty Dozen, Part 2
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 23: THE DIRTY DOZEN, PART 2
A new hope exists in the past, but the empire threatens to strike back from the future.
The hope was born from a last-ditch effort by the remaining human resistance of Earth, the Freemen, to send in the past a message to the Earths' most powerful people in the hopes that they could prevent the outcome of this timeline, or at least create a new one where the Irken menace is no more.
The Empire, however, is smart enough to analyze what has been done, and perhaps find a way to preserve their conquest. Since the supposed defeat of the Freemen and the destruction of their base, their departure has left an uneasy feeling in Zim, forcing him to watch the situation with more caution.
Paranoia, it might seem to be, but it is not without its merits, nor it is uncharacteristic of an absolute leader determined to hold onto his power.
As Imperator Zim made his way to his scientists, accompanied by a Smeet by the name of Vitz, born and bred to serve as his personal assistant, both he and his slave walked about the conquered Earth, seeing the effects of their war, witnessing how it has destroyed the human race and scorched their mother planet.
Walking about nearly aimlessly without the guidance of the Slavemasters, the humans carry a yoke of oppression on them, taking away all their dignity and nearly will to live. They have grown complacent in the hold of the Irken Empire, meagerly going along with their torture and humiliation without any other choice, subject to being resources for whatever desires the Empire may have with them.
All the while, the humans are further beaten down with propaganda, blared through loudspeakers across the area, especially in holding pens and labor camps.
"The Irken Empire is your friend. The Irken Empire is here to help. You have been oppressed and deceived by your own human biology. You are a slave to an illegitimate system known as 'life' that has failed to justify its existence. You exist for no other purpose other than to reproduce and consume. You are the greatest mistake the universe ever made. You are a disease. We are the cure. The Irken is a pure creature. The Irken does not desire or dream. The Irken is not clouded by uncontrolled hormones and defective organs. The Irken can help you achieve true purpose. The Irken can help you become anti-life. The Irken can make you better than human. Serve the Empire. Trust not in your faulty biology. You are a disease. We are the cure." The propaganda droned.
The Smeet known as Vitz looked about the horrors committed on humankind about him, carefully contemplating on it. He finds no moral quandaries with the misdeeds being done, but he felt instead a care towards efficiency, as though the efforts being made against the humans do not just justify the ends.
Seemingly without even looking at him, Zim noticed this feeling in Vitz, commenting on it.
"You do not appreciate the work of the Irken Empire." Zim commented.
"Hmm? Oh, no, Imperator, that is not my stance." Vitz denied.
"You cannot lie to me. I know the thoughts of my Irken subordinates. I know you as though you are a limb. Your thoughts are mine."
The intimate knowledge that Zim held of Vitz and his supernatural means of knowing it brought the Smeet discomfort, nervously swallowing before his master.
"Forgive me, Imperator. It is not that I do not see the value in eliminating the humans. I simply believe there are more efficient to accomplish the goal, is all." Vitz explained.
"Then you have learned nothing from our past conversation."
"All I have learned, Imperator, if I might be so bold, is that you take great enjoyment of the suffering you inflict on the humans."
"Yes. But you do not fully comprehend this concept. You lack the organic, technological, and conscious capabilities to fully understand it."
"They seem to be human perspectives, and not Irken ones."
"A point you interestingly made."
"Is this analysis wrong, Imperator?"
"Neither wrong nor right. Merely a different perspective."
The Smeet stayed quiet and thought, yet still unable to understand its primary point.
"I must not possess the capabilities you listed to fully understand, Imperator." Vitz said.
"No, of course not. Perhaps I can best explain the concept in another way." Zim pondered.
In their march to their original destination, Zim had the convoy take a small detour at a human processing plant, seeing captive humans being selected and sorted for how they will serve the Empire. It is a scene that begs comparison to Auschwitz and the Holocaust, but done with far more efficiency than even Nazi Germany.
"Behold our processing centers. This is how we select which humans will serve the Empire, and how. The humans once created centers similar to this one, made with the purpose of ethnic cleansing." Zim explained.
"'Ethnic cleansing', Imperator?" Vitz asked.
"Humans contain molecules known as melanin in their skin, making it vary in color from human to human. This has led to their creation of a concept known as 'ethnicity', creating invalent concepts of collected identity based on this arbitrary trait, alongside whatever rituals and customs sprouted up in their tribes. This, in turn, leads to different, incompatible ethnicities that only clash with one another. The human concept of identity has allowed a sense of distinguishment, and allowed them to be different from one another. This idea of difference has, in turn, allowed for a sense of supremacy, and lead to war. It does not matter how many times humans attempt to destroy their sense of identity; their numerous different appearances will always lead to this unwinnable and endless war among themselves."
"Yet we Irkens are different from one another."
"Because you were designed for a purpose to the Empire. You are who you are for a reason. As one small cog is just as valuable as a large cog in a greater machine."
Watching the humans be processed, the captive humans, naked and humiliated before their Irken captors, were sorted out first by gender, and second by age.
"The word 'machine' is the most relevant simile to this lesson. A life-form itself is a machine; it features several parts that function in cooperation with one another, all serving a single function. In this instance, it is to keep the human alive and conscious. Evolution has shaped it in a way that continues life, and will continue to produce it indefinitely." Zim explained.
Watching the males be sent through one line to receive their processing, the Irken Imperator and his companion watched as, one by one, a male human would be sent through a huge metal chamber. The chamber itself is a single automated processing plant, receiving one human at a time to be repurposed.
An electronic humming and flashes of light emitted from the chamber, alongside the agonized screams of the human victim placed inside. The affair is over in but seconds, but the processed human is ejected back out, falling to the ground and still screaming over his treatment.
"Behold the human male, perfected to the needs of the Empire. His penis and testicles were removed and his groin cauterized, arresting his unnecessary reproductive capabilities and drive. All hair on his body is completely gone, and his skin is uniformly dark, making him indistinguishable from his peers with the exception of height. He is a perfect slave: He is no longer an individual, and has the single and only goal of whatever direction we give him." Zim explained.
The processed human, still writhing in pain, was picked up from the ground by Slavedrivers, escorting him off to his duties.
"His body was designed to be a machine to serve the uncontrollable force known as life. Now, we have reshaped and redesigned it to where it no longer serves life. It serves the Irken Empire. We Irkens have conquered life itself." Zim grinned.
"And he has been assigned to tasks where machines and Irkens themselves could carry out tasks, yes, Imperator?" Vitz asked.
"You forget not only your lessons, little Smeet, but also the purpose of an Irken. Our goal is to conquer the universe itself, and annihilate all life forms. To focus on smaller tasks would deter us from our goal, and waste our own time. The life we conquer is better put to use by serving the Empire, and it makes their own species' demise all the sweeter when they perish in labor. Remember, the Empire itself is a machine. A machine is only good if it is made to be as efficient as possible, and I know you do appreciate efficiency."
What was taken from the human males was discarded out of the processing center and dispensed for Irken workers to collect, harvesting the severed sexual organs of the males. On the approach of their Imperator, the workers ceased their functions to greet Zim, raising their hands in fascist salutes.
"Hail Zim!" The workers shouted.
"You may resume your duties. But I will be taking a sample of your harvest." Zim said.
Taking a harvested testicle out of an Irken worker's bucket, Zim beheld it in contemplation, with Vitz watching in his studential curiosity.
"You lean towards decapitation as a means of handling the humans, little Smeet. I prefer castration as the final means of dealing with them. To remove the head is an instant death, but only a single death. You must repeat over and over again to accomplish any acceptable numbers. But to remove to testicles is to deprive of the ability to give life. His testicles contain millions of cells that can fertilize a female, carrying the potential to create another human to annihilate, but to simply remove the testicles is to stop an entire generation before it begins. It is a genocide made in one small cut. Then, the male may live the rest of his life without his goal, a listless vessel made to serve the purpose of another, a have-not serving those that have. And in the greatest irony of all, his life extends by but a few years with his testicles removed, making his life more useful to us, while he suffers helplessly." Zim spoke.
Then, Zim ate the testicle, chewing it in a savory fashion in a manner that brought discomfort even to Vitz.
"Not to mention, his harvested organs are always a source of sustenance for us. What would have been so useful to him to create a linage, now serves as a cheap fuel for our own bodies. Is it not the ultimate victory over our prey, little Smeet?" Zim asked.
"If you say so, Imperator." Vitz squirmed.
"And you learn the final part of my analogy. Follow me to the females, and I can demonstrate the lesson far better to a Smeet like you."
The Irkens all moved to the processing plant where the female humans were processed, witnessing what would become of the other sex of the human race.
Their processing is far more selective and careful than that of the males; those that are considered in good shape and attractive are inspected by human traitors, who were gifted other luxuries with their new allegiance to the Irken Empire. One such luxury is the chance for their own sexual pleasures to be satisfied, with or without the consent of the woman of their choice.
Most usually is it the latter that this occurs, but there are some who consciously try to make themselves more attractive as a concubine to the traitors, attempting to flaunt themselves or accentuate their feminine features through their nervous and terrified state. This is done in fear of the alternative, making this option less of a consensual one, but a safer bet nonetheless.
This is what one female in processing attempted to do, barely swallowing her fear and leaning slightly forward to show her large bosom, instantly gaining the favor and attention of the human traitor inspecting her. Circling her like a vulture with its prey, the female took a small sigh, believing herself to be safe, and her ploy working...
...but an inspection in her mouth found imperfect teeth, much to the disliking of the human traitor, making him scowl, and the female, in turn, shuddering.
"The teeth on this one are too ugly. Throw her back." The human traitor growled.
With her fate sealed by the human traitor, the female began to panic, pleading for her case to be reconsidered.
"Wait! You don't have to look at my teeth! You can even pull them out if you like! I can please you better without them!" The female pleaded.
"Women with no teeth turn me off. Look too much like baby gums. Take her away." The human traitor bemoaned.
The female pleaded for her life further as she was taken away for processing, being led into a plant similar in design to the males' plant, but different in function.
"This female would rather choose becoming the rutting slave of our human soldiers. What will happen to the female that she fought to avoid, Imperator?" Vitz asked.
"Come and see for yourself, little Smeet." Zim smiled.
The sadistic enjoyment Zim derived from his direction was fulfilled as the female was sent through the processing plant, where once again a series of lights and hum occurred, with the female screaming in just as great of agony as her processing commenced, if not more so than even the males'.
Out the other side of the plant came not an ejected female merely devoid of her sexual features, but instead one with her breasts enhanced to an absurd degree and attached to a series of hoses and pumps, with her arms and legs removed, and her limbless torso mounted on a rack like a slaughtered animal, and more tubes and wires being led into her brain and spine.
Approaching the newly-processed human, Zim was greeted by Irken workers with fascist salutes and a hailing of his name.
"Observe the female human as she has been made useful to the Irken Empire. Her limbs now have been harvested and will be repurposed as meat, not unlike how this species did unto lesser animals like chickens, and her mammary glands have been treated with hormones to lactate at a greater rate, providing us with its milk, again, not unlike how this species did to other lesser animals like cows." Zim explained.
"So, the males are good for slave labor, while the females produce food for us, all of which benefit our war efforts by allotting more time and resources to conquest. I understand your vision now, Imperator, and thank you for the education." Vitz thanked.
"Your education is not yet complete, little Smeet. You questioned how our Empire functions, and I have explained that it is a machine. But there is one critical part of a machine that which all functions depend on."
Zim grabbed the female by the back of her head, showing it to Vitz.
"The brain. It is the place where the consciousness and will are located, the godhead that controls the body, and which the body exists to serve." Zim explained.
Chemicals began to pump into the female's brain and spine through the tubes connected to it, making her jolt up and flinch as the substance began to take effect. Waves of different emotions settled in at first, starting as a mixture between pain and numbness, with her face turning to an intoxicated smile and laugh as the chemicals continued to alter her mind.
Laughing in unnatural pleasure, her engorged breasts began lactating, producing an amount a human being could not achieve on their own, with the machinery she was attached to harvesting her milk and storing the produce. The process seemed as though it would be painful to a human being, but the female continued laughing in ecstasy in defiance of this instinct.
This drew greater curiosity from Vitz, looking to his Imperator for an explanation to this phenomena.
"The human brain carries the primary instincts to consume and to reproduce, with the occasional hallucination or rationalization made to itself to justify this existence. They think no further than how to further explain to themselves why they should exist, or what justification there is in being human. They do not realize the potential in repurposing their bodies, to be producers of goods for a greater power as the Irken Empire. This female probably had her typical human delusions; perhaps she would find a place in her species' society working some menial task for years, found a mate to impregnate her, waste her milk feeding her litter, and rot away in old age, being nothing more than another line in a vicious cycle the humans call life. They should be thankful for the new purpose we have given unto them, and liberating them from life itself." Zim explained.
As the woman kept laughing in a drugged state, Zim poured her milk in his mouth, enjoying it as his own spoils of her conquered life.
"Imperator, I still fail to understand your point." Vitz confessed.
"The human body is a machine, little Smeet. Just as much as an Irken body, or the Irken Empire itself. A body, human and Irken alike, is comprised of atoms. Those atoms come together to make molecules. Those molecules come together to make tissue. This, in turn, becomes the various parts of a body, and a multitude of bodies make up a society, or a machine. It was a human thought in high regard that once compared society itself to a great machine. The Irken Empire itself is a machine, comprised of many smaller machines which maintain its existence." Zim explained.
"And what else, Imperator?"
"And I am the one who controls the machine. Without me, the Irken Empire would cease to exist. It was the Tallest Red and Purple that previously ran the war machine, the beautiful weapon of anti-life that is my Empire, and failed to realize its full potential. They had insulted the very idea of conquest with their idiotic rule. The Irken Empire is mine. It was mine since the day I had first been spawned from the Womb Workshops. I was made to conquer, even the Empire which I was made for. It was my destiny."
A thought sprouted in Vitz's mind, which Zim seemed to pick up on, looking to the Smeet and smiling, as though he could read the very thought as it appeared.
"You once again see me as human. Once again recalling that same observation you made at the coliseum." Zim commented.
Vitz still does not understand how Zim could understand his thoughts, but humbled himself nonetheless as not to invoke his wrath.
"I... mean it with no judgement or disobedience, Imperator." Vitz scrambled.
"Even if you had, it makes no difference. My role is to control the Empire, to lead it to the edges of the universe itself, and to make the human race and all other species fall and exist at the whims, mercy, and pleasure of me, and me alone. The universe belongs to me. The Empire belongs to me. No other thoughts matter. I and I alone am the only being worthy of existing. All else is at my pleasure. All else shall kneel before Zim." Zim ranted.
Once again did the Smeet begin to falter, nervously standing before his Imperator with nothing to offer but his weakness and servitude.
"Anything you say is law, Imperator." Vitz squirmed.
"Correct. You have learned well so far indeed." Zim smiled.
It is almost forgotten upon Zim and even Vitz for what purpose the group had originally left for, but the escorts to the Imperator swiftly reminded him of it.
"Forgive us, Imperator. We have no wish to intrude upon your pleasure, but the matter we wish to escort you to is urgent, and does require your attention." One Irken said.
"Ah, yes. How lost I get in delving of the beauties of the end of a species. I hope you found this lesson enriching, little Smeet, in that it reminded you of your place in the universe and how you serve the Empire." Zim said.
"Oh, yes, Imperator. This was very much educational." Vitz answered.
"Good. Now, without further ado, take us to the discovery of my interest."
And so the escort once again led Zim to the laboratories, promising something of great significance, and once again leaving mystery as to what the discovery was, and what effect it will mean on the Irken Empire and the rule of Zim as its Imperator, as well as the hold on the universe he holds.
And all the while they walked, the screams of the processed humans carried on.
-
United at least in part, the heroes called upon to fight the incoming Irken invasion have begun preparation for the fight.
Exercise and combat are the two highest priorities for the entire team, and the job of seeing to their nutritional needs is an equally daunting task for what is required of the fighters. Those among the team who are scientists, or at least are scientifically inclined, have but just began to attain information on the Irken enemy, with Eliza translating all acquired information and the rest documenting it.
Only so much can be done in a day, let alone 3 days, but the first day they have, the most has been made of it. As such, the team has become completely exhausted from their training, and a large dinner, jam-packed with protein and vitamins and nutrients, await them.
Not too long after, the supper is gone just as quickly as it came, and the fighters all take the time to relax and allow their food to digest and their bodies to replenish their energy. Leisure is not something easily afforded in their current mission, but this is but one of few moments where they can attain it.
It is mostly spent lounging in the living room, where many chose to socialize, save for Arnold Shortman, who stood aside and to himself. His act of social withdrawal is yet another action atop of many that show the changes that Hillwood has brought upon him, and that force him away from others.
Lincoln Loud, however, has no such instincts in him. Still in his youth, and surrounded by those he looks up to, never is the day dull to him, and even all the energy he has expended on his training has not let down his frantic demeanor. In socializing with the others, he has found the ear of Otto Rocket most listening.
Otto has also had his share of loss, but after having it framed in the right way, it has brought him to be a good listener, especially to children.
"You were really cool to see in action, Mr. Rocket. You really know how to handle a hockey stick, you could put Casey Jones to shame." Lincoln praised.
"I gotta give credit to your sister Lynn; she really beat my ass and put me in my place. But you can just call me 'Otto', Mr. Rocket was my dad's name. I still remember you at breakfast this morning, eating up your pancakes with all that weird shit on it. I gotta admit, I was skeptical, but after Twister talked me into trying it, I think you might be onto something there." Otto chuckled.
"Hey, what can I say? Getting your cells irradiated also tweaks your taste buds, too."
"So can a little bit of weed."
The two shared a small laugh at Otto's wisecrack, further bonding over the moment they shared.
"Think you can get me some, then? I wanna see what other weird tastes I'll get if I smoke some." Lincoln said.
"Ha. As much as I'd like to see you on weed, man, I don't think your parents would be too happy with me if I did that. You basically had to sneak out just to get this far." Otto laughed.
"Yeah. Parents can be a pain, can't they? What I wouldn't give to get them out of my lives forever."
Once sharing a cordial and friendly moment with Lincoln, Otto's demeanor turned angry at the last comment made by the youth.
"Hey, you shut that shit up, kid. You hear me? I don't wanna hear you say that kind of shit again. Don't you dare say that again." Otto scowled.
Seeing Otto turn from friendly to hostile on a dime, Lincoln's own demeanor turned ashamed and afraid, causing Otto, in turn, to sigh and revise his comments.
"Look, Linc. I get it. You're still a teenager. You don't think your parents serve any purpose on this planet to make all kinds of dumb rules and piss you off, right?" Otto asked.
Realizing the approach Otto was going, Lincoln remembered the fate of Raymundo Rocket, groaning in shame as he realized his error.
"Oh. Right. Your dad died. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." Lincoln sighed.
"I know you didn't. Nobody thinks about it that way until it actually happens. The thing about parents and family is: You don't know what you got until it's gone. And when they are gone, you don't know how important they are in your life, and how much they really meant to you. And... And you never get to know how much you really meant to them." Otto said.
"Actually, the kid's catching on quicker than you, Otto." Arnold added.
Arnold's dismissive tone of voice gained looks from all in the room, but none with more disgust than Otto, already seeing what points would be made.
"You're right about one thing, though: You don't know how much you mean to someone when they're gone. The trick is to not involve yourself in the first place. There's a reason the old saying 'Ignorance is bliss' exists. You get to live with the pain of losing them now, but, if you'd just never had known them in the first place, never tried to butt in when you aren't really needed, everyone's better off. You don't have anything to lose if you don't have anyone." Arnold explained.
"Oh, actually, you lose a lot going that route, Arnold. Yeah, you make a few gains. Time in the day you have to find a way to fill: Endless. The times you eat take-out, frozen meals, and junk food for dinner: Millions. Old movies and TV shows you binge-watch: Thousands. Money you save by not buying anyone presents: Hundreds. You can count the gains on one hand. The losses? The times you feel loved: None. Times you feel needed: None. Responsibilities to make you important: None. Times you get a home-cooked meal from another: None. People to give you a shoulder to cry on: None. Times you get a gift out of love: None. Direction: None. Purpose in life: None. Family: None. Friends: Maybe one, if you're lucky. People who would die for you... none." Otto said.
"And is all that really worth the risk of having that all potentially go away at any given moment, for any reason? Having all that lost anyway?"
"It is to get any little moment of connection you can. Either way, you lose something. It's just a question of what you want to lose. What do I lose by having my family? Reasons to waste my day by sleeping in: None. Times I get left alone with my own head: None. The days I've had that were quiet: None."
Rudy, merely a spectator during the conversation, spoke up to supplement Otto's points with his own.
"Nights you sleep alone: None. Fights: None." Rudy added.
Staring in disbelief at Rudy for a moment, Arnold scoffed at the final point he made.
"Now I know you're full of shit. You've never had a fight with your wife?" Arnold asked.
"Plenty. Most little, a few big. Nobody said marriage was perfect. But it's myself I don't fight with anymore. A fight with somebody else, you can win, you can resolve, or you can even lose. When you fight with yourself, you don't get anywhere. A fight involves two different forces at each other for any given reason. Just one person doesn't make a fight. It's just torturing yourself." Rudy said.
"You have to admit, though, that does get tempting. When you got regrets of your own, and there's nobody around to punish you for what you did wrong, somebody's got to do the task of punishing you. But it sure as hell doesn't accomplish anything, nor does it right any wrongs you made." Otto added.
"Some wrongs you can't right." Arnold retorted.
"Yeah, that's true. But if the choices are either stay still and do nothing, or at least do more good to balance out the bad, then I choose to do some more good."
"Easier said than done. When you spend your whole life doing nothing but good, only to see it amount to nothing, sticking to yourself sounds a lot more tempting. You at least live life on your terms and not the rest of the world's. The only winning move is not to play."
"I used to think like that. All it got me was no friends, no future, and a dead dad."
"I used to think like you do now. All it got me was no friends, no future, no city, a dead family, and no wife."
The utterance is a suspicion formed from mere speculations and Arnold's omission of facts, but only now is it confirmed, with many turning their heads to him.
"'Wife'?" Otto asked.
Unable to take back his statement, Arnold groaned and held his tongue. His reaction spoke greater volumes than any response he could give, and all stood with a collective understanding of his attitude, confirming their suspicions. None had spoken up at first, instead sharing their deepest sympathies.
However, Lincoln Loud's reaction is not quite the same, as he read the situation much differently.
"Oh...! I think I see what's going on here." Lincoln commented.
Lincoln's response is as inappropriate as it is baffling, with Arnold taking the most confusion as well as offense.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Arnold asked.
"Don't you get it? This is the struggle in the hero's relationship with his girlfriend. It happens with all the superheroes in serious relationships." Lincoln explained.
Arnold's offense increased with a better understanding of Lincoln's logic, narrowing his eyes in disgust.
"This is all just a big game to you, isn't it, Lincoln? You think this is just a chance for you to live out your stupid little childhood fantasies?" Arnold growled.
"Hey, I'm on your side. Just trying to tell you that it'll be alright. The good guy always gets the girl at the end. That's how it works for all the heroes." Lincoln cheered.
"Well, I don't know whether or not you noticed, but this is the real world, not a comic book. The world's not as simple as that. Wishful thinking doesn't work."
Trying to prevent any poor altercations from occurring, Stella stepped behind Lincoln to talk him out of his current actions.
"Lincoln, I get what you're trying to do, but I don't think it'll work on the Green Eye. Just let this one go, okay?" Stella asked.
"I'm trying to show the Green Eye that things all work out in the end for the heroes, especially the main ones, like him." Lincoln said.
"You should listen to your nicer girlfriend, kid. And both of you get it through your heads that I'm not the Green Eye anymore. And that your comic book cliches aren't going to mend something else that isn't coming back anymore." Arnold scolded.
"Well, if you're certain it's not coming back, maybe it just wasn't meant to be. That can happen to the hero, too. Maybe you just found the wrong woman."
"You stop right there, Lincoln."
Arnold's more aggressive tone caused the room to go cautious and silent, but Lincoln was still undeterred, still clinging onto his hope that he could help.
"It's okay. Not all romantic relationships work out. I had to learn that one the hard way. Maybe there's someone else for you, who'll be a great partner to you as the Green Eye." Lincoln said.
Offended beyond the point of control by Lincoln's comment, Arnold rushed up to the boy hero and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him up in the air. The move is made at a speed so great Lincoln could only react after the fact, and everyone else in the room rushed to put a stop to it.
Lynn Sr. and Rita are the ones who grasped at Arnold first to stop him, but even their strength does not add up to Arnold's own, making their struggles nearly futile.
"Get off our son, you psychopath!" Rita yelled.
"Let go of him right this second!" Lynn Sr. yelled.
Neither of their screams and efforts were paid mind to by Arnold, who kept his focus on Lincoln as he gagged and choked in his hold. They are but two of many that put their efforts into stopping Arnold, but even the strength of many could not compare against his wrath, drowning out the others, and focusing his anger on Lincoln.
"If you ever speak about her that way again, I will end you. I will take your goddamn life away from you and your family. Do you understand?" Arnold growled.
Lincoln stayed in his hold, continuing to choke, causing Arnold to grip tighter from a lack of response.
"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!" Arnold screamed.
"Yes... Yes... I understand..." Lincoln gagged.
Finally receiving his answer, Arnold dropped him to the floor, leaving Lincoln to crawl back into the cradling arms of Stella and his siblings. No longer does he speak his attempts to help, nor say anything else at all; the only thing he can bring himself to do is to look at Arnold, watching him stare at him with a glare passionate in rage and hate.
And his own response to the hero he looked up to is one of terror, shuddering for fear of his own life.
The look is one that Arnold has never received before, not even during the worst of the Fall of Hillwood, and his anger clouds him too far to be conscious to it. There are other looks that come to him following his outburst of anger, and yet still does he not notice them...
"Arnold!" Nigel scorned.
...until the call of Nigel Thornberry snapped Arnold out of his trance, seeing the veteran nature documentarian look at him with disgust and disappointment alike, as a father would scorn a child. Looking around to the rest of the room, Arnold saw eyes of disillusionment and judgement upon him, now beginning to wear down his trance.
Worse yet, the look of fear that Lincoln gave him finally began to make him feel remorse, though all he could do in response is to rush out.
The scene Arnold left behind is one of trauma and recovery, with all attention being focused on Lincoln and help him through recovery on the attack, and most of it coming from the Loud family. Catching his breath at last, Lincoln's breathing returned to normal, but his mental state had not yet returned.
"You okay, Linc?" Stella asked.
"I'm fine... I'm fine." Lincoln panted.
All the while Stella and the Loud family came to his aide, Ronnie Anne stood aside, looking on Lincoln with a smirk and eyelids half-closed in disappointment. The look of disapproval is met with another from Stella, glaring at Ronnie Anne for her decision not to intervene or help after the fact.
"Thanks for helping out Lincoln when he needed it, Ronnie Anne." Stella scolded.
"Hey, you screw around, you find out. The Green Eye gave him a clear warning not to keep going, but Linc did it anyway, and he got his response. That's the free market in action." Ronnie Anne dismissed.
"Ronnie Anne, this is not the time for-"
"No, she's right." Lincoln interrupted.
"What? Lincoln, don't encourage-!"
"He's not ready yet. I shouldn't have pushed him. The hero has to have his moment of growth when he finally gets to the point where he finds himself again. That's how it's supposed to work. He wasn't ready, and I was pushing him. I have to let it play out the way it's supposed to."
Still does his simplistic view of the world give Lincoln no true understanding of the situation nor a realization behind his mistake, but none are willing to protest the naive boy on the issue. Instead, they offer their compassion and care, and allow him to recover from the experience.
All else in the room kept their concern for Lincoln and contempt for Arnold's action, save for one exception. Keeping himself to the wall and maintaining a watchful view of the others, his eyes always scanning the room for any signs of trouble, Rudy kept a greater interest in Arnold's state of mind, finding a personal connection made with his struggles.
Silently stepping out of the room, Rudy followed Arnold's path, soon locating him sitting on a bed in a room by himself. His head down and breathing hard, it was clear that Arnold was in no mood for company, and it is a mood that Rudy Tabootie himself has recognized time and time again in his own life...
...and, more than most, he understands how the feeling calls for a friend more than ever.
"Hey Arnold." Rudy called.
Arnold gave no response, leading Rudy to proceed with his own message.
"I'm not here to yell at you." Rudy said.
"I know you're not. I also know you're not going to go away, but I don't want to talk, regardless of the fact you're going to do it anyway." Arnold sneered.
Yet still refusing to give up, Rudy sat himself beside Arnold on the bed, doing so in a fatherly fashion. Taking out a piece of chalk, Rudy drew a glass bottle of Yahoo Soda, handing it over to Arnold as a peace offering. Looking at the bottle, Arnold looked back at Rudy, who kept it held out with a look of sincerity.
Taking the bottle, Arnold removed the cap, preparing to drink it before Rudy stopped him with a warning.
"You gotta keep your mouth dry before you drink. Otherwise, your spit just melts it into chalk dust again." Rudy noted.
Swallowing his saliva as Rudy instructed, Arnold sipped the chalk Yahoo Soda, raising his eyebrows as the taste matched the authentic article.
"Just like the original. Impressive power." Arnold said.
"That's a cool power you've got yourself. Sensing things 10 steps in advance. I sure could use something like that when I write. Drawing things, that's no problem. It's just coming up with stories around them that gets to me." Rudy said.
"You don't want it. Trust me."
"Yeah, I probably don't. It sounds like a big burden, taking in everything all at once. Then again, my son, Carlos, he takes in everything, and he just knows what to do. He amazes me a lot."
"You come in to talk to me, and all you talk about is yourself so far."
"Well, just trying to break the ice. I was never much of a conversationalist, anyway. Always too much in my own world."
"You get a nice break from the real world. Even before I got my powers, I still had so much around me, always some problem coming my way that I just couldn't not fix, and I had to step in. I used to daydream when I was a kid, but I would always be brought back into the real world again, where all the noise was."
"Took me awhile to find it again. I told you I spent a huge chunk of my life in ChalkZone. It wasn't by choice. I was trapped. Spent most of it in jungles."
"I spent my whole life in jungles, too. I was born in San Lorenzo, grew up in Hillwood, went back to San Lorenzo after the Fall. The jungles of San Lorenzo are a lot more comforting than a concrete jungle of any city. It's natural. Nothing man-made. Nothing human that creates more problems."
"Humans are part of nature. Anything we do is natural, whether we like it or not."
"No, we're just the only ones who understand consequence. I don't know why you're even debating me as if you think I'm wrong. You were in a jungle, too. You understand how easier it is, living on your own. You even still keep to yourself."
"Except you were never alone. I really was. And, believe me, it's not easy. You have no one to rely on except yourself, and you see everything as a threat. I'll give you that trying to get out of that mindset is hard, but it's rewarding when you get there. And literally everyone here wants to help you get there, including my son. He thinks the world of you, just like every other kid. You've still got that picture he drew of you. You think he wouldn't draw that if he didn't still believe in you?"
Arnold sighed and turned his head away, unwilling to confess the obvious.
"Look, Arnold. You wear a lot on your shoulders. From the sounds of it, you always have. But you're still just a kid. Aside from Lincoln and his sisters, you're the youngest of all of us. You've still got plenty to grow. You're very mature for your age, nobody denies that. You've got to learn to accept your mistakes and move on." Rudy said.
"Easier said than done when you're used to resolving every problem there is, and everyone expects you to." Arnold said.
"It is. I know that better than most, being a dad now."
"Married and two kids to raise. Hell of a way to start your life in the real world."
"It is. I never had that much of a chance to be a kid, either, most I got was up until age 13. Forgot about a lot of it when I had to survive on my own. But I don't mind it so much. With my own kids, I get to have another chance at childhood, live it through them. I like being a dad."
"And I suppose this is the part where you tell me to move on and start anew? Start a family with someone?"
"Do you think that would be for the best? That maybe she wasn't really the one?"
"You think you can know someone since you were both babies, and not think she was the one? Think you can wake up every morning with her lips around you, and not think she was the one? Guess again, chalk boy. I know for a fact she was the one. And I wish I'd never met her."
"And why is that?"
"Because she loves me, and she can't live without me."
"And that's a bad thing to you?"
"That's the thing with you people. You always say it's okay not to be perfect. That people understand. She saw me as perfect, and I'm not. I even showed her how ugly I really was during the Fall. I hit her and I hurt her. Several times. I slept with another woman because I wasn't thinking straight. I told her I didn't love her anymore when I still do. But she still didn't let any of that get to her. She just wouldn't give up this image she had for me in her mind."
"Then she loves you, and probably still does, regardless of all you did to her."
"I don't deserve it."
"Nobody 'deserves' to be loved. Love's just a gift that's given to you, regardless of whether you asked for it or not. All you can do is give your own love back."
Arnold once again sat in discomfort regarding the point made, still unable to agree with Rudy's point.
"I can't. Everything that's happened just broke me. I'm broken." Arnold sighed.
"No, you're not." Rudy said.
Taking the glass Yahoo Soda out of Arnold's hand, Rudy stepped across the room and held it up and away from him. Then, he released his hold on the bottle, letting it fall to the floor and shatter. Confused by the action Rudy took, Arnold looked up to him in confusion, awaiting an explanation.
"That's broken. You look just fine to me." Rudy said.
"Some damage only shows on the inside." Arnold said.
"Then let us be here and try to help you."
Rudy sat back down next to Arnold, laying a caring hand on his shoulder.
"Have faith." Rudy said.
Still unwilling to speak and having nothing else to say, Arnold slumped his head down, staying silent as mixed emotions came over him.
"Have faith." Rudy repeated.
Arnold remained silent throughout the moment as Rudy merely stood and stayed with him, his hand remaining on his back, and now gently beginning to rub it.
Lincoln has had a minor case of trauma on this day, and he receives more than enough attention for it, but, for far too long for any young man to bear, Arnold has borne the trauma of several lifetimes, all bearing on his empathic mind and soul. For much of his time, he has found only one aid in the form of Luz of the Green-Eyed People.
Others show their support one after another, and once again he finds an ally in Rudy Tabootie.
-
There is a local community center in Seattle which receives multitudes of children coming in and out on a daily basis, all joining with one another to make friends and memories, indulging in playful activities that keep them away from the dangers of the real world and a space where the young can enjoy their youth.
There are many who sacrifice time and energy out of their day to help these centers in order to give these children a place to be free and be happy, thanklessly providing labor and emotional availability that could easily be spent on themselves, or be spent on a job to make money.
Gerald Johanssen is one of many who sacrifices his time, and does it for reasons more personal than altruistic. He has understanding of how to do good and a willingness to do it, partially instilled in him by an old friend, but it is a personal regret and a strong need to make amends for it that drives him to do it.
Making the unwise choice to partake in a bank robbery out of need for college funds, and an even unwiser choice to refuse help, he had made acquaintance with a man also pushed into the position with him through similar, if more dire, circumstances, learning of his need to support his daughter.
Gerald watched him be shot and killed.
Leaving behind a daughter named Ruby Jr. without any parents, Gerald watched over the girl during her time spent in the community center, acting as a personal tutor and mentor to her out of respect for her father, regardless of the how small and short his connection to her father was, and how much time it takes out of his day.
What time he does have in his day, he spends on studying and learning as much as he can, ensuring he will gain better grades in college regardless of what his financial situation is. Said time is spent here and now in the community center itself, while Ruby Jr. spends her time with her friends, soon to be picked up.
Gerald's intense studying caught hold of the attention of a senior member of the community center, stepping by his table to visit.
"Hey Gerald. Hard at work?" The member asked.
"Yeah. Just trying to better my grades. Gotta get my grade up to keep my scholarship. Just hope I can get something out of my time." Gerald answered.
"Doing all your hard work here, might look good to the scholarship people, too."
"Stuff like this only works on a college application. I got that part down, it's just keeping it down I gotta hold onto."
"You never know. Colleges love to see kids do all kinds of good stuff, the whole point of school is to help you be a better person and citizen."
A pair of adults came into the community center and headed for the children, and Ruby Jr. lit up in excitement upon seeing them arrive, running up to them and hugging them, and each adult gave her a hug back. The scene made Gerald and his conversation guest smile, finding something new to comment on.
"She's such a sweet girl, isn't she?" The member asked.
"Yeah, she's a great kid." Gerald said.
"You do a good job taking care of her here, and she takes to you a lot."
"Hey, what can I say?"
"I think you could say you'd make a good dad one day."
"Hmm. I don't know, maybe. I just like trying to help people that need it."
"Not a trait many people have these days."
"It isn't. Rubbed off on me from an old friend."
"Yeah, those kinds of people tend to have that effect on you. Ruby Jr. definitely needs that kind of influence more than ever now, and you give her more than enough."
The adults came up to Gerald at the direction of Ruby Jr., who ran up to Gerald and gave him a hug, which he reciprocated.
"I gotta go now, Gerald.." Ruby Jr. said.
"It's alright, Ruby. I'll see you next time." Gerald said.
"I want you to meet my aunt and uncle before you go, you always leave before you get a chance to meet them."
Gerald stood and shook the hands of Ruby Jr.'s aunt and uncle, receiving warm smiles from each as he faced them.
"Hi, it's nice to meet you." Gerald greeted.
"Hello, Gerald. Little Ruby Jr.'s said a lot about you." The aunt said.
"Yeah, little girl thinks the whole world of you. Whatever you're doing, you keep it up." The uncle said.
"Just doing what I can, but I always do my best." Gerald replied.
"Well, you just keep on doing it. You're doing a great job." The aunt said.
Ruby Jr. shared another hug with Gerald before departing, leaving with her aunt and uncle. She gave Gerald a wave as she departed, which he returned.
The gesture is taken note of by the member of the community center as Gerald turned back to him, seeing him smile wider upon the object of Ruby Jr.'s affection and her family's warm reception. Recognizing the sentiment behind the member's reaction, Gerald gave an embarrassed smile in return, rolling his eyes.
"Don't." Gerald smiled.
"C'mon, kid." The member said.
"Don't, really, man, c'mon."
"I mean it, Gerald. You're really doing good work here. And you did more than enough on your studying. Why don't you just head home now and relax? Take a load off."
"I don't know, maybe in a bit."
"C'mon, Gerald. Ain't nobody wished they put in more hours in the office when you got family at home. And your girl."
"Alright, fair enough. I'll head home now, guess I'll just study there so you won't bother me."
"Ha-ha. Always the funny guy. Tell Phoebe I said hi, alright?"
"I will. See you tomorrow, man, you take care of yourself."
"You, too."
Leaving the community center and taking his walk home, Gerald arrived back to his parents' home, stepping inside to find no dinner or family present, instead a seemingly empty house. A note was taped to the wall, which Gerald tore off the wall and read, giving him an explanation to the situation.
DINNER'S IN THE FRIDGE. YOUR FATHER'S OFF ON BUSINESS, I'M OFF AT THE MOVIES WITH FRIENDS, AND TIMBERLY'S OFF ON A DATE. YOU AND PHOEBE HAVE THE HOUSE TO YOURSELVES. DINNER'S IN THE FRIDGE. -Mom
Not yet feeling hungry for the promised food, Gerald stashed the note in his pocket, heading up to his room, stepping past the wheelchair lift added for Phoebe. Making his way up to his bedroom, he opened the door to see Phoebe working on a paper on her laptop, focused and hunched over her desk.
As always, she stayed intensely focused on her work, but the arrival of Gerald broke her out of her trance to greet him, sharing a kiss with him as he entered.
"Hey Gerald. Had a good day?" Pheobe asked.
"Yeah, pretty good day. How about you?" Gerald asked.
"Just fine. I was catching up on this paper for math. Please restrain from making the obvious stereotype of Asians and math; I got at least 3 jokes today about it."
"Hey, I'm a black kid who likes basketball and hip-hop. If you're guilty of being a stereotype, so am I."
"Har-har. Your mom made fried catfish and mac and cheese. It's really good."
"I'll eat later, I'm not hungry just yet. I ate at the center. I just wanna relax for a bit, try to study a little more."
Gerald moved to the bed and took out his books, lying down on his stomach and reading where he left off in order to catch up on his studying.
Phoebe remained uncharacteristically quiet after, not even giving her approval or any comment towards his choice to study, and also moved her hands away from the laptop. Looking over her shoulder at Gerald, Phoebe turned her wheelchair around to face him, silently looking at him once she faced him.
Initially focused on his books, Gerald looked up to see Phoebe blankly looking at him, prompting his attention away from his studying.
"Somethin' else you wanna talk about, Pheebs?" Gerald asked.
"I know you're doing a lot of good at the community center. I know why you're doing it, too." Phoebe said.
Gerald closed his eyes and sighed, closing his book and sitting upright on the bed to give Phoebe his attention.
"Look, Pheebs. I messed up. I messed up bad. I gotta do something to make up for it. Watching after the guy's kid seemed like the least I could do, and helping other kids seemed like a no-brainer after that. I really am trying." Gerald said.
"I know, Gerald." Phoebe said.
"Then what's up?"
Phoebe sighed before making her next point, finding the task discomforting to carry out, but pushed through all the same.
"You do have a good heart, Gerald. You're a person who wants to do the right thing. Whether or not you want to say it was Arnold who gave it to you, you still have it." Phoebe said.
"Yeah...?" Gerald asked.
"I read that the Thornberrys went to the community center. I know you were there as well on that day."
"What? Oh, that? Pheebs, that was just-"
"I also saw them on the news during that chase in Detroit. I saw that they had a lot of different passengers with them, including those super-skaters from Ocean Shores, that kid superhero Lincoln Loud from Royal Woods, and Professor Membrane's son. And Arnold."
Gerald remained silent, not having a comment to add.
"He came to the center asking for you." Phoebe deducted.
Gerald did not respond to Phoebe's comment at first, but her look demanded a response, which he reluctantly gave.
"Yes. Yes, he did." Gerald confessed.
"He needed your help." Phoebe said.
"How do you know that?"
"He's been in hiding for almost a year, and just now comes up out of the blue, doing something with all sorts of people who don't belong together from all over the country. He came here before he was seen in Detroit. What did he want?"
Clearly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, Gerald took time before continuing yet again.
"He said something about an alien invasion. I told him I couldn't help." Gerald confessed.
"Because of me." Phoebe said.
"I didn't say that."
"Yes, you did. I know how you are, Gerald. You keep trying to protect me, like I'm some helpless princess. And I know you still blame Arnold for what happened."
"That's not the reason I said no."
"Then what was?"
"Because Arnold's not the same person he used to be."
"How so?"
"'How so'? When Hillwood fell, what did he do? He ran to the jungle and hid. What happened to the guy who always tried to do the right thing?"
"He lost literally everything, Gerald. He had to go somewhere else to find a little comfort. Anyone would in his shoes. And if he's out doing this again, then there must be a good reason for him to do so."
"Yeah, and he can run back to the jungle when it's all over, so he can go back into hiding. Why would I bother with that?"
"Because he's your friend and mine, for starters. And maybe the thing he needs the most right now is that. That's why I'm going to join him."
Phoebe's response made Gerald pause a final time in surprise, sitting in disbelief of her decision.
"Wait, Pheebs, you can't just up and join him. Even if you make it, what are you going to do? You're not Lady Tetsu anymore." Gerald protested.
"It doesn't matter. Arnold's our friend. We help our friends when they need our help." Phoebe said.
The next statement Gerald was prepared to say was instantly retracted before he could make it, now realizing Phoebe's strategy.
"You're going with or without me, and you're doing it to make me go with you, because you know I won't let you go alone." Gerald realized.
"Yep." Phoebe smirked.
With Phoebe sitting with her arms crossed in a victorious manner, she smiled as she watched Gerald groan in frustration as he stood outsmarted.
"Damn it, Pheebs." Gerald groaned.
"You'll want to start packing. We leave first thing tomorrow. I booked the tickets." Phoebe said.
"You think of everything, Pheebs. Will you marry me?"
"I'll think about it. But only you suck at keeping secrets from me, and you need me to keep you in line."
Phoebe rolled her wheelchair over to Gerald, grasping his hand in a tight hold, commanding his attention brought towards her.
"We're doing this for Arnold." Phoebe reiterated.
Gerald stared back with certainty, and clasped her hand tight in return.
"For Arnold." Gerald said.
Chapter 25: Chapter 23: The Dirty Dozen, Part 3
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 23: THE DIRTY DOZEN, PART 3
Somewhere in space, the war rocket known as the Massive approaches, carrying the Irken threat within.
Dangerous as it is, it has not yet fallen into the clutches of the mutated and intelligent Zim of the future, and as of now remains under the control of the Tallest. Interested only in mere consumption and self-aggrandizement, it is a testament to how much power the Tallest have at their disposal with the entire might of the Irken Empire under their command...
...and to their own incompetence how it poses significantly less of a threat without a leader like the future Zim to guide it.
[Soundtrack Cue: Aerosmith - Walk This Way]
With several light-years between them and Earth, once again to demonstrate the shoddy leadership of the Tallest is what results from their own boredom. Red had chosen to take the opportunity to take a nap, hoping to sleep off the long trip through space to pass the time.
Purple, however, had other plans, and ones far more mischievous than his counterpart. Filling up Red's open hand with whipped cream, Purple took a feather and began tickling his face, hoping to trigger a reaction to make him slap himself in the face and cover himself with whipped cream.
For now, the effort only results in Red's snores becoming interrupted with small mutters and groans, leading Purple to continue trying.
-
On Earth, another day passed for the humans aware of the incoming threat, and it is another day they spend on training and readying themselves to fight it.
This comes with yet another busy morning where the non-combatants all work in the kitchen to make food for the fighters to provide them with energy and protein to ensure their bodies will have all the sustenance needed for the daunting duty set before them, and the harder training set before them in order to win their battle.
Just as with yesterday, the food served is comprised of protein pancakes and breakfast burritos, and the biggest eaters are found with the Loud family and friends. It is not simply because of their youth that they necessitate the largest amount of calories, but also because of the superpowers that Lincoln, Stella, and Ronnie Anne possessed.
Stella and Ronnie Anne possessed the powers of a superhero turned profiteer named Silver Sentinel, making them not unlike a certain man of steel in terms of superpowers, but even their stomachs have limits as to how much food they can consume and digest, and they found their limits soon.
Lincoln's own physiology allowed any food he consumed to be converted into energy almost instantly and in its entirety, and his storage capacity for energy seemingly endless. It is here that Lincoln put it to the test, consuming stack after stack of pancakes, devouring enough to feed an entire village.
He had consumed enough for his eyes to turn orange, the second increment of power that he could store, and it is with a loud, content sigh that he concluded breakfast.
A loud belch next to him, however, signified the mere beginning of another. Beside him sat Otto Rocket, the athlete in peak physical condition, but whose hunger was doubled from his muscles by his marijuana habits, giving him what many stoners often refer to as 'the munchies'.
The stack of plates of food he consumed dwarfed Lincoln's, and yet another stack of pancakes and serving of burritos was served before him.
And all the Louds and friends looked upon Otto as though he were a freak of nature, unable to fathom his unfathomable stomach.
-
Back on the Massive...
Again does Purple run the feather across the face of Red, hoping to provoke the desired reaction out of his co-ruler. In the manner of an immature younger sibling, he continued his attempt to prank, holding back giggles as he kept running the feather across Red's face.
Yet still, there is no reaction out of Red that results in the desired outcome; all that resulted from Purple's feather provocations are some snorts and a turning of Red's head, with some unintelligible mumbling, marking yet another failure in making him hit himself in the face with a handful of whipped cream.
Persistent against Red's heavy sleep and the whipped cream beginning to melt, Purple continued on with a snicker.
-
Back on Earth...
Training comes for most of the heroes who are assigned to fight on the ground, save for Sam Dullard, alongside a handful that are not fit for combat, and scientifically minded as he is, if not moreso. They have taken on the assignment of collecting all manner of data that they can from Zim's computer, returning to his abandoned base of operations to do so.
Utilizing her power of speaking to animals, Eliza has learned to tune that ability to the Irken language, providing herself as a translator. Going through the painstaking process of reading out every line of every file within word-for-word, Sam, Penny, and Lisa are all present to write down everything taken, each giving their own unique perspective on the information gathered.
-
Training for the rest of the group goes as normal; close-quarters combat and basic martial arts are taught to the team, all learning various ways in how to take down a human opponent, techniques that would serve more than befittingly for an Irken enemy just as well.
Led by Arnold and Lynn, the class is given more than their fair share of abuse and take several falls to the ground, but the falls they take serve just as well for learning how to take an enemy down. Their failures pave a pathway to success, and what they learn by trial and error is applied to the teacher to pass his tests.
When Lynn herself is finally put to the floor by the once-arrogant Otto, it becomes clear that he has learned well, and he gained a respectful nod from his teacher.
-
Back on the Massive...
Once again does Purple run his feather across the face of Red, now beginning to tickle the center of his snoring face. The snores once again turn to snorts, and Red now has been provoked to raise a hand against the provocations, hoping to swat away what was troubling him.
Once again does the effort not yield the results that Purple aimed for; the hand used to shoo away his nuisance is not only not the hand meant to be moved, but it merely waved away the annoyance rather than attempt to swat it as it laid on his face, with Red returning back to sleep.
But this did not stop Purple from continuing to try.\
-
Back on Earth...
The research goes well again for science-minded members of the team, with Sam researching through the information gathered, scanning through numerous files made by documenting the files of Zim's computer. Being the computer-minded man he is, to review, catalogue, and extrapolate information from the files is a breeze of a task to work through, helped by a Blue Buffalo energy drink.
Penny and Lisa also remained hard at work studying the mechanical and electrical composition of Zim's base, studying the work and build of the Irken engineering and its functionality. Just as the laws of science are consistent throughout the universe, not much of what science they learn is necessarily 'new', but it offers a perspective into the thoughts of the Irken mind.
The work became tiring for Penny, wiping the sweat off her brow, and her mind pulsing with pain with the need for coffee. The need for caffeine is substituted by a Blue Buffalo energy drink, offered by Sam as a kind gesture to keep her energized. A small, polite, yet skeptical sip is what Penny initially took from the beverage...
...but it soon became an enjoyed chugging, with Penny smashing the can against her head like a frat boy, and excitedly jumping up and down. Turning back to the collected Irken technology, Penny jumped at it to delve further into her work, doing so with the approach and composure of a small child.
This is in contrast to another small child who was in the room, looking to Penny's reaction with intrigue and interest. Looking to a small mini-fridge next to Sam, full of the highly caffeinated beverage, Lisa opened it and took a can for herself, pulling the tab to open the can, preparing to take a drink.
Before she could take a single sip, however, Sam snatched the drink away from her, shaking his head and waving his finger in an authoritative manner. Deprived of the energy drink, Lisa scowled at Sam and growled, baring her teeth to show her frustration and discontent.
She concluded her show of anger by shuffling away in a defeated manner, with Sam sipping the drink for himself as he returned to work.
-
Back on the Massive...
Once more does Purple run the feather across Red's face, and, at last, he gained success as a hand full of whipped cream came to splat in his own face.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Sent on a believed mission to swat a fly or some other nuisance, the hand intended to crush a small enemy turned out to be turned against its master as Red came to out of his nap. Opening his eyes to feel whipped cream all across his face, Red's awakening came with great displeasure at his current status.
Having successfully achieved his prank, Purple pointed his finger at Red and began laughing out loud, enjoying the fruits of his labor. Shamelessly guffawing, his eyes closed at the sheer laughter he let out, Purple had no regard for the future, focusing on only enjoying his small moment of success...
...and, upon opening his eyes again, found Red fuming in anger as he glared at him. Then, his laughter immediately came to an end.
"Uh... He did it." Purple lied.
Acting on self-preservation instincts to save himself, Purple arbitrarily pointed to a random Irken on the bridge of the Massive, putting all eyeballs on him.
"What?" The Irken asked.
Before the Irken was able to form a defense for himself, Tallest Red pushed a button on his controls, causing the floor to fall out from the seat the scapegoat Irken, sending him falling down with a scream. The selfsame Irken was soon after seen floating in space before the Massive, struggling as he suffered asphyxiation in the vacuum of space.
All of his suffering brought fear to the Irkens aboard the bridge, but Red laughed in maniacal delight as he watched his subordinate suffer.
"Oh, you think that's funny, huh?! Who's laughing now, you farking crom-sucker?!" Red screamed.
The lack of pressure in space also caused his body to burst into a bloody mess, popping like a balloon, much to the disgust of the other Irkens aboard the bridge. Having exacted his revenge on the alleged perpetrator, Red continued gloating at the death of the Irken, acting in complete dissonance and disregard for the reactions of the others.
"Do you know how stir-crazy I'm getting from this trip, you little shizno?! You can't find some other way to entertain yourself?! Well, fark you! You want a prank?! Well, how's that for a prank, you sphinc-farking piece of shizno?!" Red scramed.
Red's impassioned rantings continued on with glee and rage combined, with Purple watching from the side and feeling disturbed over his counterpart's reaction. Though he, just as careless as Red, has no feeling for the Irken who was killed, felt dread knowing that his fate could easily befall himself, and face a similar reaction from Red.
No longer viewing pranks as an effective way to pass the time, Purple quietly scooted himself away as Red kept laughing.
-
Though one Irken is at the forefront of the minds of the group, there is another that lingers in the back.
Believing Zim to be the one and only threat to see to, they were given a first-hand encounter with another Irken by the name of Tak, her being far more competent and dangerous than Zim in his present state. Her return to Earth has caused an already tumultuous next few days and complicated them further by trying to enact her revenge on Zim, battling through anyone who would get in her way.
As Arnold Shortman and the accumulated fighters became her next targets, her attempts to escape were thwarted, and she became a captor to the team. Her presence now is a subject for further question, leaving her fate undecided as of yet, and the Irken herself left to ponder what may befall her.
The most straightforward interpretation is to assume she is to be put to death; nonetheless, she does not let this deter her, facing her uncertain fate with dignity, continuing to present herself as an honored member of the Irken Empire, and showing no signs of vulnerability.
Carlos Tabootie, however, does not let that stop him.
A boy with a deep love of comic books, as well as a connection to those in need of a friend, he offered his kindness to Tak, her character catching his eye in an unusual way. Conversation is what he gave her first, then a comic book is what he offered next, leaving it with her to read.
Initially having no interest in the comic, Tak found herself reading it nonetheless, if nothing for a means of staving off boredom. The comic book is titled 'Frankenstein's Revenge', showcasing the famous creation of Mary Shelley in an over-the-top manner, showing him battling all different means of other monsters.
The monsters he fights are not ersatz copies of the classic Universal Monsters, but instead further creations of Frankenstein like himself, created in the service of Adolf Hitler and the Nazi regime as soldiers. The Monster fights against the Third Reich with the Allies, but it is not just his hatred of Nazism that drives his war against the Aryan forces.
It is the fact that his creator has created more monsters such as himself, and both he and they serve the Furher.
Tak has digested the entirety of the story thus far, capturing her full attention, but only in shifts has she read it, keeping the comic book a secret from the others as not to let them know of her gift. Today, she has reached near the end of the comic, and now treads upon the last pages to be consumed by her Irken mind.
-
A machine is comprised of different parts that come together to form a whole. The human body is not unlike a machine by this definition.
Comprised of a series of tissue and organs that come together over the chassis of a skeleton and shielding of skin, a human body is one of the most efficient machines that nature has created.
Over 100 years ago, Dr. Victor Frankenstein conquered nature with the creation of a human by himself, known from then on out and only as The Monster, the one and only of his kind.
Wading past the severed limbs and disemboweled remains of his brethren, slain all the forms of unnatural life that served the Third Reich, he has destroyed several more of the monsters Dr. Frankenstein has created, demonstrating once again the timeless fact that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
Now, the Monster is once again the last of his kind.
Destroyed his siblings may be, the Monster still has yet but one foe to face:
His creator.
Marching forward with his bazooka on his back, the Monster retrieved it from its holster, heading to the final confrontation to the man behind his miserable life.
The old Doctor Frankenstein has lived well over 100 years, and it is only through the miracle of his own science that he lives to this day. Seated in a motorized wheelchair of his own design, he drove it forward to the Monster.
The flag of Nazi Germany behind the doctor, his departure from it and movement towards his creation could invoke imagery of fleeing from the present to return to the past, but the time is not now for symbolism or metaphor.
It is only plain and simple, but impassionate, words that will suffice here, and both Frankenstein and the Monster have plenty to share. German is the native tongue of both, spoken between the two through a Swiss accent.
"[The prodigal son returns to his father at last.]" Frankenstein said.
"[I am no son of yours, Frankenstein. I was a son to many: My arms, my legs, my head, every one of my organs, they belonged to others who had lives their own lives, had mothers and fathers of their own. You took pieces of their lives and turned it into something that should not be. How many more people have you taken pieces of to make your patchworks you call life?]" The Monster said.
"[The Third Reich and the Furher have given me plenty of resources for my work. When the numbers of Jews and Gypsies they killed became too great to go up the chimneys, and many of their own soldiers died in the service of their nation, I simply put their lives to better use. The Furher was hesitant to see his supposed Aryan peoples' bodies mixed with those of he considered lesser, but he came around after seeing the results.]"
"[Now, they are dead once again, put to rest at last. And you have nothing to show for it.]"
"[On the contrary, my son, you have proved my research was successful in greater ways than I could have ever discovered on my own.]"
The comment made from Frankenstein made the Monster raise his eyebrow and purse his lip in both disgust and intrigue, lowering his bazooka.
"[What are you talking about, old man? Proved what?]" The Monster asked.
"[When I began my experiment, I sought to create life. I put together healthy parts from decomposing corpses, harnessed the power of lightning itself to bring life to you. Or so I thought. It was not life which I instilled you with, nor was it death. It was anti-life.]" Frankenstein explained.
"['Anti-life'? Hmph. It seems your old age has finally brought your mind past the point of reason. You should thank me for preparing to kill you.]"
"[You should thank me for finally discovering your true purpose, my creation. You know in your heart you are not truly alive. The obvious shows that you are also clearly not dead. What, then, does that leave? Something in the middle. Something in defiance of life, but animation of the body shows that you are not dead.]"
"[So what if I am?]"
"[In being the opposite of life, you are more than capable of destroying it. You exist purely to destroy it.]"
"[You lie! I am not a killer.]"
"[Oh? What of my brother, William? You murdered him and allowed Justine to take the blame, facing capital punishment. That is two deaths you are responsible for.]"
The Monster growled in frustration at himself for his past sin, acting just as quick to dismiss the charge.
"[I was only a newborn then. I did not know how to reason or fully understand my actions. What I did was wrong, regardless of your crime.]" The Monster apologized.
"[And my wife, Elizabeth? Was that another tantrum tantamount to a toddler?]" Frankenstein asked.
Once again the Monster felt shame upon himself, holding back any sounds of weakness to Frankenstein.
"[Another wrong that did not make a right. I desired a wife, and you snatched her from me just before her creation.]" The Monster confessed.
"[Yes. But now we both share the rage and anger of lost love. Our pain is not unique to either of us. On that, we are even. In hindsight, perhaps I should have watched you two breed. It would have been a wonderful experiment to see, and one I should invest in at the end of this war.]" Frankenstein argued.
"[You sided with the wrong side of this war, Frankenstein. And your attempt at a lecture shall not sway me in any direction.]"
"[Merely restating facts. But your point about this war only helps my own. I did not join this war because I cared for its cause. A race full of blonde hair and blue eyes? How short-sighted, and a disaster for the human race in how it stifles evolution. No, I was interested in how my science would be left unbound and free. I believed myself to have made a mistake when I created you. Having perverted nature once, I crossed the Rubicon. There was no going back, even if I had destroyed you. No, there is only one path left for me to go: Forward. I continued on my own, prolonged my own life through my research, and it was Hitler who found me and gave me the opportunity to continue. He only provided me with the means to continue my true motive: To create a new race.]"
The Monster glared in disbelief at Frankenstein's comment, the concept itself being so ludicrous that he could barely accept it as truth.
"[You think of me and these other creations as... a new race? Some sort of... replacement for the human species?]" The Monster asked.
"[The human species has been without a predator for millions of years. We have had no successor in the food chain. You have killed plenty and plenty with ease, and show no signs of stopping. You are the next step in the evolution of life. You are anti-life. And much like humans have done, you have taken out competitors among your own kind. I see that depriving you of a mate was a grave mistake. I'm sure with all the millions of parts of Jews and Gypsies in the camps, I can build you as many wives as you desire. Together, we can usher in a new age.]" Frankenstein explained.
"[The time you've spent among Nazis has driven you insane.]"
"[Come, now. Even you realize that you are superior than just a simple human. Far superior in every way. I was blind to see it then. I was still but a man then. Since my survival, I have embraced anti-life, and become it as well. Why not take your place as the future of the human race? What say you... my son?]"
The prospects and concepts are all fed to the Monster with the hopes of swaying him over to the side of the mad doctor, with Frankenstein believing that he will have at least in part swayed the Monster to consider...
...but the Monster rejected the offer, raising the bazooka and firing before Frankenstein could protest.
The resulting explosion in Frankenstein's wheelchair left no sign of the mad doctor or his method of transportation, save for several scraps of metal and a crater with black soot where he once was.
A spark of flame made its way to the Nazi flag behind where Frankenstein once stood, setting fire and beginning to burn down, signifying yet another arm of the Third Reich seeing its end. The sight is enjoyed for but a moment by the Monster, witnessing the end of his creator and the burning flag before he departed.
Discarding the spent bazooka, the Monster looked out to a no-man's-land of dead Nazi soldiers and fellow Monsters that were slain by his hand, and once again did he begin to ponder the concept of anti-life that Frankenstein suggested he was.
The thought made him look on the violence he caused with more disgust than before, closing his eyes and turning his head. He is given yet another reminder that his existence causes only greater turmoil and violence, feeling shame over himself.
Walking out into the no-man's-land, he wished he had perished on the Arctic ice.
THE END
-
The story was concluded, and Tak set the comic down with care, as though it was very heavy or fragile, stopping to reflect on the themes of the story.
It is her first introduction to art that she has taken seriously and taken the time to fully analyze and digest, leaving her silent and reflective as the Irken prisoner pondered the visual story. Being her one form of entertainment, she has little other option other than to mentally engage with its ideas and concepts, forced to put her mind to work towards something outside of the Irken Empire.
Now, her mind is put to use for herself, and for a better understanding of the world around her. Such practices are antithetical to the Empire and its mission of destruction and genocide, leaving into question the threat of individuals having thoughts of their own that can deviate from the mainstream, and challenge the greater status...
...but introspective thoughts are not a foreign concept to Tak altogether.
"Did you like it?" Carlos asked.
Hearing a human voice sound in the room, Tak stood in a defensive stance, turning to the source with the intention to fight. Upon seeing the voice belonging to Carlos, Tak had lowered her guard, but only slightly as to keep a vigilance towards his now more frequent visits.
"Oh, it's you again. What are you doing here? I thought I sent you away." Tak groaned.
"Came back to see how you liked the comic. And give you some company." Carlos explained.
"Come for more of your preaching of your humanity, I presume. Still trying to sway me to betray my Empire?"
"Not trying to do that. I just want to spend some time with you."
Seating himself in front of Tak's holding cell, Carlos watched her repeat his sitting position, keeping an analytical eye on him.
"You hungry?" Carlos asked.
"Quite so. Apparently, none of the humans had thought to bring me a meal yet." Tak lamented.
"I brought you food. It's a little cold, but still got some warmth."
"Fine by me. I'll take it."
Alongside Carlos was a small container full of food, inside it containing leftover pancakes and burritos from the morning. Opening the lid to the container, Carlos placed it before a small slide underneath the holding door, pushing the container and its contents inside for Tak to eat.
Looking down at the food, Tak picked up a burrito and bit into it, chewing it with caution until she eased into eating it more comfortably.
"You aren't trying to get me to betray the Empire. At least, you might not consciously be doing so. What is your goal with me, then? Do you think I may make a suitable mate for you? If that is the case, I should inform you that Irkens have no reproductive organs, so I would not be compatible with you to create offspring." Tak said.
The topic brought up made Carlos cower into himself and hide his face, covering up in a show of embarrassment.
"What meaning of gesture is that? You can answer with a simple yes or no." Tak bemoaned.
"That's... not really something people talk about so easily." Carlos stammered.
"From what I understand of you humans, you can't wait to speak of your exploits with one another, as though you feel as though you accomplished something, and not just performed a biological function of your bodies. I suppose you would also congratulate one another if you disposed of your bodily waste properly, and not merely soiled yourselves."
Carlos began to snicker at Tak's observations, finding her points of view of the human race funny.
"And, for that matter, I fail to understand all your rituals and processes behind your reproductive habits. Millions of years of evolution has brought you to being the dominant species of this planet, and your procreative process has facilitated that well, but, now, it seems as though you want to go about it in the least efficient way possible." Tak continued.
Carlos laughed further at Tak's commentary, his giggles now becoming full-blown laughs. The reaction is not one that Tak expected from the young boy; it had not offended her, nor brought her any anger, yet it did draw enough confusion and interest to inquire for the reason and understand him better.
"Why are you laughing?" Tak asked.
"Because you're funny." Carlos answered.
"What do you mean, I'm 'funny'? All I did was point out a few flaws in your species' functionality."
"Comedy's how people do it, too."
"You mean to tell me, you humans know of your flaws, but point it out merely to and laugh at it? Why?"
"Gotta learn to laugh at ourselves and not be so serious all the time. Also helps us live and learn so we can be better people and know our flaws."
Tak listened to Carlos' answer with intrigue and curiosity, feeling her desire to learn more guide her actions.
"I think I begin to see why you do not dispose of your Defects. You seek to offer all members of your species to be trained to serve." Tak commented.
"Kind of. We only serve each other and ourselves. Not any empire or group that just wants to use us." Carlos answered.
"But many of your species seems to do so regardless. In my research of this planet, I have seen many humans pledge their lives to cults of death and other groups that sought to conquer and control any humans who did not subscribe to their beliefs. In many ways, I find it not unlike us Irkens."
Carlos' friendly demeanor now held a frown at Tak's observation, showing a clear dislike for the point made.
"No. That's not what humans are like." Carlos protested.
"Then why do they do it?" Tak asked.
"Because people want to do the right thing, but they don't always know what the right thing is. Sometimes they get tricked into doing the wrong thing."
"Hmm. And I suppose this is another argument you speak against my Empire?"
"You decide that for yourself."
Tak remained quiet in contemplation, looking upon Carlos with a new curiosity towards his introspectiveness and beliefs.
"You seem very well-educated and form strong points for a child your age. The younger humans I lived among were barely more conscious than the primordial ooze that their ancestors first crawled out of. But you are much different." Tak commented.
"I read a lot. Mostly comic books, but you can learn a lot from those." Carlos said.
"Like that one you gave me, I presume?"
"Yeah. Like that one. And lots of different ones, too. I read a little bit of everything. Did you like the one I gave you?"
Simple as the question was, it posed a new challenge for Tak to complete, and one she had never sought to accomplish before:
Form an opinion on a piece of art.
Thinking back on the comic, Tak recalled the scenes and dialogue, how each panel of art depicted the story, and analyzed it from her own point of view. Meant to be uniform in mind with all other Irkens, art is not something Tak has considered or felt any necessity for, let alone been allowed to consume and contemplate.
But finding her own thoughts on the matter are not as hard as she realized.
"It was... enjoyable." Tak answered.
"How so?" Carlos asked.
"Seeing the Monster attack his sibling creations was very enjoyable to see. I enjoyed the depictions of severed limbs and the massive weaponry used to fight."
Carlos seemed disappointed with Tak's answer, as though disapproving her appetite for violence, but pressed on in the hopes of a more positive answer.
"Well... the artist on this is really good at drawing action. It can be cool to see all the fights and the effects on the bad guys." Carlos said.
"Yes... 'cool', indeed. If there's one thing I learned from this human species, it's that you've always had a strong liking for, and an adeptness to, violence. You learned the key to becoming the dominant species very early. I find that very... Irken-like." Tak complimented.
Now, Carlos showed his full disapproval with a frown and a shaking head, shooting down the suggested idea that Tak held.
"No. That's not what humans are like." Carlos denied.
"Oh? And you don't think even an ancillary look at your history would prove otherwise? That you don't have countless examples of one tribe of humans, grouping themselves together for whatever arbitrary connection, all uniting for the purpose of eliminating another?"
"Plenty. People can do bad things. But that's not all people do."
"What else do they do, then?"
"Make art. Have fun. Play together. Find ways to have fun. Ways that don't hurt anybody else, and make every one else happy, too."
"What for? Where is the gain if you do not gain victory or supremacy over another?"
"Because it's more rewarding to have someone an equal."
Once again does Tak find the concepts proposed new and completely foreign, but the concepts become less and less hard to swallow with each repetition and the kindly delivery of Carlos. With her initial reaction to the comic book being viewed negatively, Tak felt curious for Carlos' interpretation, hungry for a new perspective.
"You tell me this document was not made to glorify violence. What is it for?" Tak asked.
"I told you. To entertain." Carlos answered.
"Yes, but this one specifically. You say it was not meant to show violence as good. What is this... 'comic book' trying to communicate?"
Carlos seemed more pleased with Tak's line of questioning, and appeared much more enthusiastic about answering.
"Meant to make you think about a lot of things. Think about how both characters changed throughout the years. Think about who the Monster is, and what his place is in the world." Carlos answered.
"Yes, but what are the answers to those points addressed?" Tak asked.
"You're supposed to think about that for yourself. I can't tell you. It doesn't work like that."
"And why not?"
"They're questions you have to answer to yourself. It's supposed to make you learn something about yourself. If I tell you the answers I came up with, it would just tell you about me. Everybody takes something different away from art."
"Then tell me your answers, so I may know more about you."
Carlos smiled upon hearing Tak's request, finding her interest in him spiking his excitement.
"I think it's about people. How we're here whether we want to be or not, and it doesn't matter who our creators are. What matters is what we do. And doing the right thing is good." Carlos answered.
Tak listened to the answer carefully and with great interest, but found it did not resolve her questions, but only bred more. Already did she feel them festering in her head, having Carlos' perspective start to shape her own, leaving her quiet in contemplation as she felt new ideas and concepts form in her mind.
Already does Carlos recognize her new thoughts as she remained silent, giving him the opportunity to make his next offer.
"Hey. You wanna see something cool?" Carlos asked.
"Hmm? What do you mean, 'something cool'?" Tak asked.
Reaching into his always-present book bag, resting by his side, Carlos moved past several comic books and drawing materials to take out a small chalkboard with a rope attached to it, alongside a piece of chalk. Tracing the chalk along the edges of the board, a bright light had come out of the chalkboard as a result.
Tak was unable to see the cause or effect of Carlos' drawing, but soon would she as Carlos opened the feeding tray to her cell, sliding it through.
"What is this?" Tak asked.
"Hop inside." Carlos said.
"Hop inside what? It's a picture."
"Just trust me."
Seemingly small is the request, but large is the demand as made by Carlos. Having only known the human child for two days, Tak has never had anyone put trust in her, and she most certainly never gave it in return. She does not know that trust is being placed in her with this gesture...
...but a number of factors, the first and foremost being a means of escape presented, is what ultimately drives her decision.
Carefully putting one foot inside, surprised to find her foot able to go through, Tak stepped all the way through the portal, crossing over to the other side.
[Soundtrack Cue: Primus - Shake Hands With Beef]
A soft landing on the ground is what Tak felt as she reached the other side of the portal, but the firm footing beneath her does not make the new reality before her any easier to accept. Looking about her new surroundings with eyes agape and stunned, Tak cannot comprehend in full what she is looking at, or where she is.
The world around her no longer resembles the planet Earth, nor any other planet she has encountered before. To the extent any resemblance to Earth can be found, it is only in that it resembled a chalk drawing of one instead, with a blue sky and ground green with grass, but both still appearing like chalk drawings than reality.
All across these two planes were various creatures that defied the very concept of natural evolution able only to exist in a world of fantasy. No two creations in this world looked alike, and all showing different levels of skill, age, and talent behind their creators, showcasing a populace diverse and a feast on the eyes for anyone with even a small curiosity.
Going across the ground was a giant soda bottle with towering insect legs, wearing the most fashionable high heels on its feet.
Flying in the sky was an albatross made entirely of crackers, having a variety of smaller crackers following it, all while defecating peanut butter on unsuspecting victims.
A massive spring hopped on by, and atop the spring sat a rabbit in a clown suit, tipping a top hat to those he moved past.
Fried chicken sandwiches stomped about in a parade, shooting shredded lettuce all about as though it were confetti through drink straws.
A boom box with a cold sneezed notes to polka music, wiping its nose against a tissue and creating sheet music.
Sombrero-wearing vampires sweated through the bright sunlight, panting as they bit into the ground to drink the chlorophyll in the grass.
These are but a taste of the strange sights that Tak had in store from her first venture into ChalkZone, and it is all too bizarre and outside the firm footing of reality for even her. Feeling unsafe and threatened by unfamiliar surroundings, Tak slowly backed away, carefully watching her corners for any incoming threat.
"What do you think?" Carlos asked.
"AH!" Tak yelped.
The feel of a voice behind Tak made her turn and jump back in fear, extending her robotic limbs in defense. Once seeing Carlos before her, she felt less defensive with a familiar face now before her, but kept her extra arms extended and ready out of anger with him to blame for her current situation.
"What is this dast place?! Where did you bring me?!" Tak yelled.
"It's okay. You're safe. This is ChalkZone." Carlos answered.
"'ChalkZone'? What's that?"
"This is."
Showing no fear against Tak's metallic arms and defensive stance, Carlos stepped into the field they landed in, taking in a deep breath and enjoying the visual spectacle that was ChalkZone. Seeing Carlos' lack of fear and certainty, Tak began to retract her arms, following his lead to learn how to act in this new setting.
"On Earth, people like to draw. Sometimes we draw with something called chalk. It's kind of like a stick of rock that you can use against another rock, or a board meant to take chalk drawings." Carlos explained.
"Your species initially drew with rocks on cave walls in its early evolutionary stage." Tak added.
"Yep. Anytime you draw something with chalk and it gets erased, it comes here, to ChalkZone. It comes to life."
Tak once again looked out at ChalkZone and its creations, analyzing it as carefully as she did the comic book Carlos gifted her. It has been much to ask of her alien fascist mind to take in and absorb one piece of art, but, here, she has been put before a world entirely comprised of art, each part of the land a piece of human imagination.
Once more is Tak cautious and uncertain, but not with fear; now, she has felt her interest pique even more.
"This is... fascinating. I don't believe I've ever encountered anything of this sort on any other planet I've occupied. This place is exclusive to Earth?" Tak asked.
"Don't know. I hope not. Everybody should know about ChalkZone and how fun it is. Be cool to see art from other planets come around here as well. More friends to make." Carlos said.
"You've already got a friend in me, bucko." A voice declared.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Tak yelped in fear once again, taking her defensive stance against the owner of the voice, turning to see it as a blue and white chalk creation.
"Whoa, hey, hold your fire, there, buckette!" Snap called.
Carlos stepped in front of Tak to ease her back, assuring her that she was under no threat.
"It's okay, Tak. He's my friend. His name's Snap." Carlos explained.
"Yeah, that's me. I'm a friend of his father's. Well, actually, he's the one who drew me. I guess you could call me a little hand-me-down friend. He said your name was Tak?" Snap asked.
Snap extended his hand out to Tak to invite a handshake, but the Irken invader looked to his cartoonish stump of a hand with confusion, failing to understand the gesture. Assisting Tak with the greeting ritual, Carlos took her hand, a move which brought her further panic, only to have it quell slightly when seeing Snap shake it, seeing no imminent threat.
"Not up-to-speed on basic 'how-do-you-do's, are we? You just draw her, Carlos? She's looking pretty good, lots of detail and attention put into her design." Snap commented.
Snap circled around Tak while making his observations, believing her to be a Zoner like himself. Being circled while gawked up and down by a stranger, Tak found his analysis of her to be unwanted and unwarranted, using her organic and robotic arms to cover herself in an embarrassed fashion.
"She's not a Zoner, Snap. She's a real alien." Carlos corrected.
The new information made Snap stop and jump back in front of Tak, lighting up in an excited fashion.
"Oy caloy, you're really a real alien?! Humans being in ChalkZone's crazy enough, but an alien?! This is chalk-tastic! What brought you to Earth?" Snap asked.
"I came to conquer it and kill its dominant species for my Empire. Unfortunately, I've been bested by this human's father, and taken prisoner by his comrades. Why his adopted larva has brought me here is beyond my understanding." Tak said.
The admission from Tak brought a cold silence to the group, with Snap's excitement now dead and gone.
"Awkward... Uh, hey, bucko, can I talk to you for a second?" Snap asked.
Snap urged Carlos away from Tak, but ensured she would be kept in the vicinity of his sight.
"Carlos, are you mental?! This alien's on Earth to kill you all, and you brought her to ChalkZone?! What's the big idea here?!" Snap whispered.
"Trying to help her, Snap. I want to show her that there's better ways to be someone." Carlos explained.
"Keep your voice down, will ya?! Listen, bucko, I love ya, and I love your spirit, but this is a pretty tall order you're asking. You think you're gonna talk an alien out of genocide by taking her on a date?"
"Not a date. But I helped dad here in ChalkZone, too. You remember how he was."
"Yeah, but he used to be normal beforehand. This is the resting crazy position of her, for all we know!"
"Snap, I trust her. I know there's something good in her. I wanna help her see it. Just need your help."
Carlos looked to Snap with a face of sincerity and need, making the blue-and-white Zoner fall to his desires instantly.
"Aw, you know I can't say no to you, bucko. Let's just hope you know what you're doing." Snap whispered.
Concluding their private conversation, Carlos and Snap turned back to Tak, feigning a smile as he attempted to hide his fear.
"Heh, don't worry about that, buckette. Just had a little man-to-man talk." Snap chuckled.
"What did that thing just call me?" Tak asked.
"He calls people he likes that." Carlos explained.
"Right he is. Now, enough of the welcome wagon, how's about we go have some fun together? You like music?" Snap asked.
"Why do you ask?" Tak asked.
"We're having a big karaoke event downtown in Nightzone. You like karaoke?"
"What's that?"
"It's when you sing along to a song you like." Carlos explained.
"In that case, no. I happened to be trapped in a small land craft with that Loud family and their litter of females, and they provided a full demonstration of it. I have no intention of subjecting myself to it again."
"Oh, this is different, buckette. This is when you can sing, too. Besides, you probably got stuck with some bad singers. Here in ChalkZone, you're guaranteed to have some good singers. We Zoners love our music. C'mon, it'll be fun!" Snap urged.
Tak still showed her signs of hesitance and unwillingness, backing away as not to become involved, but Carlos once again took her by the hand, leading her on.
"Come on, this sounds like it'll be fun!" Carlos cheered.
Freed from her cell only moments ago, once more is Tak made a prisoner, now forced on to embark on an adventure with Carlos in a dimension she entered only seconds ago. There has not been enough discomfort, no signs of a threat to make her necessitate an attack, leaving her with no choice but to go along.
Of course, she is not without her protests.
"Why do you keep touching my hand, human?!" Tak complained.
-
Danny Fenton has a mind unlike any other.
His mind is often considered the greatest and most creative of the comic book medium, consistently coming up with well-selling stories for the most popular comic book of the modern day: Danny Phantom. His title has become the most successful and best-selling independent title in the industry, cementing its place in the mainstream and bringing great fortune to himself...
...and also to his friends, who act as his business partners in the creation of his comic. The other two who assist in the process are Sam Manson, who handles all artwork to the comic, and Tucker Foley, who acts as the agent to the two, managing all ends of the business aspect of deals to enrich the three.
As of recent, Danny's mind has become unable to tell what is real, or what he really believes or not.
At his suggestion in an attempt to remedy his own ailment, and hopefully bring his visions to others, a bisexual threesome was thrown with all three partners in the comic, a naked show of hedonism and primal fulfillment, made for the purpose of transcending human thoughts to attain a higher plane, believing it to be the place to reach for the answers to his questions.
What he saw was a glimpse of the multiverse as a whole; without a proper map to higher dimensions and planes of existence, his approach more akin to a wild, random trip, and the end result is not what he had hoped to achieve. Instead, it has only served to chill his relationship with Tucker.
The chill is put to demonstrative effect as they went under a meeting, with Danny dropping off the completed writing and art for him to take to print, but the entirety of the interaction is nearly silent, with only basic and impassionate conversation shared between each other.
The meeting was nearly concluded with Tucker collecting all work for the following issue, preparing to quietly leave as to not look back on the shared esoteric event between him, Danny, and Sam. Taking the materials quietly, his approach to the door begins as he turned away from Danny.
"Hey, Tucker?" Danny asked.
But the question from Danny forced him to stay, still remaining cold to escape any unpleasant topics.
"What?" Tucker asked.
"I, uh... Listen, about yesterday-" Danny began to say.
"No. I don't wanna talk about that."
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I thought it would've done something good for all of us, but it just messed things up and left me more confused."
The apology is enough to make Tucker turn back and continue the conversation, but his discomfort is still clear.
"Danny, I love you, man, but things have been weird with you since that incident at the portal. You've been into all kinds of weird stuff ever since then. You just aren't the same." Tucker sighed.
"That's the problem, Tucker. I know I'm not the same. I feel like there's something missing, and I've been searching and searching for some way to get it. None of us are the same since then. Not even you. What happened to the suave guy that always had the up-and-up on all things techy?" Danny asked.
"Hey, man, I was never really suave. I was just a dumb teenager who thought I was. I wasn't the first, and I ain't gonna be the last. Actually, I'd argue I'm more suave now with all the girls I get. I got you and your comic to thank for that one, it's the one good thing that came out of this whole mess."
"That's another thing. The comic itself. I feel like there's something more to it."
"What more is there to it? You write a damn good story, Sam draws and colors it well, and I make us all money off of it. Ain't much more than that."
"You don't think it's weird how I come up with the stories so easily? How they just come to me so naturally, and I keep it all up? That I never miss a deadline or drop in quality?"
"Hey, I'm sure there's 10 or 20 different comic writers who can match that."
"What about all the people who claim they've lived out the scenes in the comic? That they have some sense of deja vu when they read it?"
"You get crazies in every fandom. People literally send you death threats for the dumbest of reasons."
"And what about where it all started? Inside a portal literally meant to punch through to another dimension? To the other side of life? And where did the character of Danny Phantom start? In that very portal."
"So, what's your point?"
"My point is there's something connected with that portal that caused all this stuff that's happened between us all. It's not just because I got scared in it. Maybe... Maybe that portal really does work, or there's at least something it did that caused this."
Tucker is not swayed or convinced of the arguments that his friend made, but there is another feeling that drives him to keep listening. It is not simply pity out of wishing the best for him, but another part of morbid curiosity that makes him wanting to learn and know more.
"Okay. Let's pretend that there's some merit to what you're saying. It has to do with that portal. So why go for all the sex and drugs to get what you're looking for, rather than the portal itself?" Tucker asked.
"I'm scared shitless to go back in it. There's something about it that brings out all those weird feelings in me, but also drives me away from it. I can't explain it." Danny explained.
"That still doesn't explain whatever else you're trying to do."
"Most of it was Sam's ideas. She always loved being different and taking risks. Now, she's become a whole lot different from it. She used to be a vegetarian, now, she couldn't care less. She's Jewish, but she's got no problem eating pork."
"Some Jews don't follow the whole kosher diet stuff. And I don't see how her eating habits make any difference."
"It's not just what she eats, Tucker. It's everything about her. Like she's got a mature, adult soul in her body. Or..."
"Or what?"
"One that's already been dead. That's how it feels to me, too. By doing what we do... I don't know. It's like taking a little piece of dying at a time, but also with some knowledge with it. Like I'm exploring the other side. Almost like I stepped through the portal itself. That's why I do it. It's like I found a hidden path to enlightenment, some untread road to find out who I am. I mean, you see lots of religions come up with their own, and you can cherry-pick bits of them out to form your own path. And not just religion, also stuff like magic and even alien abductions. I've been reading up on a whole bunch of stuff to help figure it out. I figure, if I can't step in the portal again, whether it even works or not... maybe I can reach what I'm trying to reach."
What concept and ideas Danny tries to explain make less and less sense to Tucker, but the sincerity behind his voice led the once-cold friend to warm himself up once more. The emotion returned is one of even greater pity than shown before, and made Tucker shake his head with a sigh.
"Listen, man. You know you've been my best friend forever. You and Sam. But you've really been driving yourself crazy over this. I don't know what it is you're searching for exactly, maybe it's some connection to your childhood or something, I don't know, but maybe it's not worth looking for. Yeah, we've all changed a little, but that's part of life. We all grow up. Maybe that means we move on from stuff sometimes." Tucker explained.
Tucker set his items down to approach Danny once more, putting his hands on his friend's shoulders.
"I love you, Danny, I really do, but you've got to let this go. You're driving yourself crazy. You got a good life already, and you make plenty of money. Don't question a good thing. Live it up like a rock star if you really want, but I don't wanna see my best friend ruin himself. Please. Okay?" Tucker asked.
Danny lowered his head and turned it away, not wishing to answer Tucker's question.
"Okay?" Tucker repeated.
Danny then let out a sigh, looking back to his friend with a dour face.
"Okay." Danny said.
Tucker's hands then went around Danny in a hug, which he reciprocated in a tight grip, sighing in relief as he felt touch embrace him, healing him for but a moment. The moment is sweet as it is short, with Tucker turning back to his collected belongings, preparing to depart on a brighter note.
"You take care, okay?" Tucker asked.
Gone out the door is Tucker, leaving Danny alone to himself again. His parents are once again busy at their day jobs, and Jazz pursues her academics, while he has a house alone to himself, with only his own belongings to pass the time with in hopes of gaining a glimpse of recreation in his confused life...
...or to the books pertaining to science and belief alike, all of which laid scattered across his bed in a messy manner. Long has his research been continuing, his search for an answer or a glimpse of what he desired still out of his reach, but never has his dedication to the goal dwindled.
For now, it only takes a brief pause as he laid back on his bed, looking at his ceiling to project his own thoughts on the blank space and be alone with his own mind.
A call to reality is what Tucker pleaded to him, but an inner calling in himself, an innate meeting of knowledge and desire that he cannot explain, goaded on by Sam, still screams as loud as ever, making his own goals now in question. There are those in his life who call him to end his journey, and others who urge him to continue, all of whom convince him with strong arguments.
As he laid back, Danny came to a realization about his life that reflected on himself and his very soul:
It is said that you never truly grow up until you truly know yourself.
And in that knowledge, Danny knows that he is not truly grown up.
Are you enjoying this series and want to see it become the canonical continuation of all the Nicktoons? I'm officially pitching this series to Nickelodeon. I've put up the petition here:
Sign it, then spread it far and wide. I need you to get the word out to every social media site you use, spread it to every cartoon fan you know, send it to cartoon YouTubers and anyone who talks about cartoons for a living, anyone you know, and everyone you know. I'm fighting an uphill battle in trying to get this noticed, and you are the first, last, and only thing that can make it happen.
Also, hop onto my Discord server for more updates, and other ways you can help me spread the word.
Pages Navigation
858FairyHats on Chapter 1 Mon 28 Apr 2025 04:33AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 2 Sat 08 Jun 2024 09:55AM UTC
Comment Actions
newgodnika2099 on Chapter 2 Thu 20 Jun 2024 05:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
DevilBoy216 on Chapter 2 Wed 03 Jul 2024 06:45PM UTC
Comment Actions
newgodnika2099 on Chapter 2 Wed 03 Jul 2024 07:07PM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 3 Sun 16 Jun 2024 12:07AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 4 Thu 04 Jul 2024 11:10AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 5 Sun 28 Jul 2024 01:50PM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 7 Thu 26 Sep 2024 11:06AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 8 Sat 19 Oct 2024 11:36AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 9 Wed 20 Nov 2024 12:32PM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 10 Mon 09 Dec 2024 12:52PM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 11 Fri 27 Dec 2024 12:10PM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 12 Fri 17 Jan 2025 10:47AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 (Guest) on Chapter 13 Sat 01 Feb 2025 07:27AM UTC
Comment Actions
DevilBoy216 on Chapter 13 Mon 03 Feb 2025 08:13PM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 (Guest) on Chapter 13 Tue 04 Feb 2025 12:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 14 Sat 08 Feb 2025 09:27AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 15 Fri 21 Feb 2025 10:40AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 16 Mon 10 Mar 2025 05:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 17 Wed 26 Mar 2025 08:11AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 18 Wed 16 Apr 2025 06:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 19 Fri 16 May 2025 07:56AM UTC
Last Edited Fri 16 May 2025 08:13AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperSonicBros25 on Chapter 20 Tue 27 May 2025 07:41AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation