Hey Spacejerk

False Accusations

Three messages. Two more than he had been expecting, but then again should he have been expecting two? He had, after all, pushed DECLINE once and maybe the messages stacked once you did that?

He was overthinking it, probably. It had been three, after all, not two, like it would have been if it really was stacking messages. Zim was probably just getting impatient.

There wasn't much to do besides overthink, though. And sleep. He hated sleeping, he had no sense of a day anymore. Zim could have had him there three days or three weeks for all he knew.

The scar on his head was still tender, so, maybe not three weeks. Was he going to have to measure the passage of time by the regrowth of his hair? He wasn't eating normal food, so measuring time by frequency of toilet usage was unreliable.

His back pressed against the concrete wall, covering the scratchings of previous prisoners that he was becoming more and more tempted to read. There was still no telling how long he'd be here and there were only so many ways he could try to figure out a passage-of-time marker. At least a few more... days... or cycles of messages. Dib promised himself he would get to read the marks on the wall then. The longer you held out, he reasoned, the less chance you had of succumbing to the insanity of solitary confinement.

His spine straightened as the hoverscreen drifted toward his cell.

Y O U   H A V E   T W O   N E W   M E S S A G E S .

Two messages today! Exhuberant, he lunged forward, hitting ACCEPT before it could begin squawking at him.

"AhaHA!" Zim's face filled the screen, eyes gleaming, a toothy grin splitting the green in half. "You truly are pathetic. Sad little whimpering mewling monkeyspawn! This is victory!" Zim shoved the self-addressed stamped envelope Dib had sent him. "Now that you have explained-" Zim's antennae shot out in different directions and his face twisted for a moment before returning to the grin, "-handed over vital intelligence that I have, by my intentional refusal to communicate, extracted from you, I have your location!"

You had it the whole time, moron. It was on the corner of every envelope that came to your house. You just didn't know what those numbers meant. Admit it. Freaking aliens.

"Look at this!" Zim's face was replaced by Dib's hand-written letter. "Look at this chronicle of your utter lack of control. You're begging for my plans." He paused, yanking the letter away and scanning it again. "You're... begging." He frowned, staring intently at the paper. "You... always demand to know my plans. What is this begging?"

Lifting his shoulders and dropping them, he crumpled up the letter and tossed it out of view. "Two weeks locked in your room and you're suffering boredom. Oh poor worm. Poor smeetling." A strange note crept into Zim's tone. "Punished for being a disappointment, well. I guess you just didn't work hard enough to please your parental unit."

Damn you. Dib's teeth ground together. What would you even know about it?

Zim stood with his back to the camera now. "As for the cows going on strike, it was GIR's plan. It was a good plan. It was executed in his honor and achieved a measure of chaos, which is good. Enough small measures of chaos and larger measures can slip through less noticeably.

"Lastly, you don't see me on your cameras because I have been preparing to leave. I have packed all I need in the Voot Cruiser. Do not expect a mailed response from me, earth-stink. I am coming in person, and I'm bringing everything I might possibly need to make you... shall we say, very uncomfortable." He glanced over his shoulder, eyes slitted. "My mailbox will scan further correspondence from you and transmit it to me before incinerating it. Expect me soon, Dib-worm." Then he chuckled. "But then, you can't expect me, can you?" He laughed harshly. "Oh I look forward to this."

Dib blinked at the fading screen. Nothing Zim just said or did indicated an intention to mail a bomb. Then again, it was Zim. He probably got halfway to the post office by Dib and then decided he wanted to come in with a bang. But Dib had another message to listen to. He wondered what Zim had to say about his plan to blow Dib up failing. Dib poked the screen again.

Zim returned with a wrathful screech. "I did not send you a bomb! I told you that I would not lower myself to using your repulsively primitive communication system! Why on targlath do you insist on fitting me into your theories about why your house burned down or why you had a bomb mailed to you when I have technology that could tear you apart at a molecular level! Why would I bother with something as clumsy as a bomb? Or matches? It's just a matter of time before I find your true place of residence and then your continued insults and mockery will be paid back tenfold!"

Dib's jaw strained against the wires. "Ngugh!" He pointed at the screen, jabbing it. Zim had burned his house down! He'd seen Zim running away that night! And if Zim hadn't sent the bomb, who had? Zim was the only one who really hated him that much! He grabbed the corners of the hoverscreen before it could slip away, shaking it. "Nu-ugh!" Come out and face me for real you vile green slime from-

Cold fire flashed up Dib's arms. Then, nothing.