A Parade of Indignities

Chapter 17: Of Desperate Measures and Friends in High Places

Chapter art created and owned by GalaxyCuup. Entire 7-part comic can be read on DeviantArt. 

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Dib stared in dumbstruck wonder at the new Irken. His vision was still blurred, leaving an iridescent, hazy sheen tinging his line of sight. Despite his inability to properly focus in on him, though, he was able to make out a few defining characteristics.

This Irken was somewhat lighter, his skin an almost mint green compared to Zim's deeper tone. He was also a rather corpulent specimen, which was only exacerbated by his shortness.

As Dib continued to gawp, the Irken knelt down to further inspect the unconscious body curled up on the pavement. His eyes were locked on Zim with morbid curiosity, as if still trying to determine whether or not it was truly him.

Dib sniffled wetly, then swiped the back of his hand across his nose. Either at the noise or the motion, the Irken snapped his attention away from Zim and stared instead at him. At once, recognition seemed to flood his eyes, and both antennae twitched noticeably.

"I know you..." he began, echoing the nagging thought pounding through Dib's mind. "Dim?" he asked hesitantly, as if he were a foreign traveler tasting words of the native language for the first time.

"Dib," he corrected, his voice hardly more than a murmur. He was still trying to place him. He knew that he knew him from somewhere...

It stirred in Dib's mind slowly and agonizingly, before suddenly hitting him all at once. They were thoughts long suppressed, deemed unimportant after years of having never been addressed—back when Dib was finishing out his tail end of junior high, and Zim had abruptly, and without any explanation, began going about his life with another Irken in tow. No introduction. No explanation. Nothing.

All Dib had been able to pick up on from observation was that Zim seemed to resent his new addition to an extent. This was nothing surprising, seeing as Zim appeared to be stuck in various states of irritation with just about everything, from GIR, to his schemes, to the color of the goddamned sky.

When Zim wasn't outright ignoring his new "sidekick," he usually chose minor roles for the squat little Irken to follow. Some of those had resulted in Dib meeting him firsthand, but never once had he caught his name. It had also resulted in him learning that this new Irken was rather submissive by nature, preferring to hang on the outskirts. Nothing about his chubbiness or meek personality was particularly threatening.

Regardless, Dib's sharp attention had still been piqued. Before he could uncover much more about the new Irken through private reconnaissance, though, the new arrival mysteriously disappeared overnight. Evidence of his existence had been wiped clean and was never discussed again.

Right now, though, merely recalling his brief, lackluster acquaintanceship was enough for Dib to ride the coattails on. He'd cling to the mere idea of an ally, especially when he was on an entire planet that eyed him with nothing but disdain. Without so much as a name to place him, he uttered a few choice words. Short, simple, and to the point:

"Please help me."

The Irken's feelers hitched upwards inquisitively, then his eyes dropped back down to Zim. A million questions seemed to dance across his face, and Dib could very well guess what many of those questions were, given the circumstances. He felt the need to press further.

"Something's wrong with his PAK. I don't know how long he has left." His voice cracked on the last few words. He waited, willing his eyes to focus in further on the Irken in the hopes of gauging his thought process. Everything was mildly hazy, and in the back of his mind, he began to worry it wasn't just his busted glasses to blame. He was feeling fainter by the moment. He tried to remember the last time he'd had a drink of water but couldn't quite draw a sufficient answer. Everything had been all but buried with stress.