The Evil Dib

Quiet

There was an eerie sort of silence that followed the murder, a sort of resigned waiting for something, anything, any last breath or final words. There was nothing. Zim was the first one to react, gently pulling open Poe's suit jacket and pocketing the flask in his PAK. 

"I'm... sorry," Zim said, and he almost sounded mature for the first time maybe ever. "I can't help but feel like this was... my fault." Gaz dropped the gun. It clanged against the floor with a sharp thud. 

"Dib…" They turned to him. His eyes were still closed tight. 

"How bad is it," he whispered hoarsely. Gaz glanced over and assessed the damage. Not much blood, not much anything really. 

"Not too bad, I think." Dib pried one eye open and quickly shut it again, taking a few deep, shuddering breaths before opening his eyes fully again.

"That's gonna fuck me up for a while," Dib grimaced, staring down at his own dead body on the floor. Zim nodded and pressed himself into his side. He popped a PAK leg out with an Irken holographic-phone attached to the end and called for Gir, spitting out an order in Irken that roughly translated to "Body cleanup and removal. Sending coordinates."

There was a soft sort of sympathy that came with Zim's actions. He was a hardened soldier, he knew how to deal with death in ways the others had never had to deal with before. He almost wanted to cover Dib's eyes and shield him from the horrors in front of them. 

Gaz kicked at her own shoes, trying hard not to think about the fact she could have just killed her only brother. She twisted her toes back and forth against the tile, only stopping when Dib cleared his throat. 

"So…" she started. "What do we do now?"

Dib shrugged, running a hand through Zim's wig, messing it up a little in the process. Zim shivered. "We could... go upstairs. Enjoy prom." 

"Not like this." Zim looked down at his wretched outfit. He wanted his uniform. He looked back down the dark hallways and calculated his options before turning back to his Dib. 

"I need your help," he said hesitantly. Dib looked between Zim and Gaz, then followed Zim through the maze of classes and into an abandoned science classroom. In the center of the room, a chair lay shattered, and rope with sharp Irken teeth marks from where Zim had gnawed through it tangled around it.

Zim struggled with the dress for a minute before Dib stepped in, avoiding Zim's eyes as he hesitantly offered out his hands. Zim gave a small, sharp nod, and Dib untied the sash and carefully undid the zipper before stepping back. He closed his eyes as Zim changed back into his pants, only opening them when he heard a soft ahem from Zim. He had his shirt clutched to his chest, face flushed a hot blue. Zim opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened again, like he was thinking. 

"Can- " He cleared his throat, turning his back to Dib. "I can't… Can you... take off my PAK?"

Dib was taken off guard by the question, and the way Zim fidgeted with his head down made it clear how vulnerable a question this was for him to ask. Dib swallowed, bringing his un-shot hand to Zim's PAK and gently pulling. It popped off with a hiss, and Zim nearly fell forward from the removal of its familiar weight.

He shoved his hands through the sleeves and roughly pulled his shirt back on, the two holes in the garment perfectly lining with the PAK's. Zim nodded, and Dib pressed it back in. He recognized the clicking noise from Poe's memories, although they were quickly fading and meshing back into his own. 

Zim shook himself out before sliding his gloves back on and letting out a sigh of relief. He gave himself a quick hug, relishing in the familiar fabric on his arms. He turned back to Dib and brought a PAK leg out to shine a light in the dark room.