A young boy stepped onto his front driveway, wobbly making his way to the door. The black trenchcoat covering his back was ripped and shredded, his glasses were scratched and broken, and his mop of spikey black hair was frayed to and fro. Dib soon reached up his hand and grabbed the doorknob, slowly swinging it open, and stepped into the house. Quietly, he closed the door behind him, so as not to alert Gaz of his prescence. He didn't want to have to explain his failure to her yet again.
But just as he'd made his way into the hallway and had thought he was home-free, she popped her head in from the living room, GameSlave in hands. She took a quick glance at his condition, and then turned her gaze back to the screen before her.
"What happnened to you?"
Dib ran his hand over the back of his neck while he tried thinking up an excuse.
"I was--uh--out. Jogging!"
He instantly grimaced at his lame attempt at an excuse, but didn't want to admit he had been defeated by his rival Zim again. Gaz raised an eyebrow at him, but then turned back to the living room. The sounds of beeping and clicks slowly faded as she went into her room. Dib sighed, and too exited to his room, shutting the door behind him. He collapsed onto the bed, arms outstretched, and stared at the ceiling.
Every bone in his body ached and pained, reminding him of his defeat. When the entire population of earth was enslaved by Zim's power, would they know the pain and suffering he had to go through? Would they? Slowly, he moved over to his pillow, not even bothering to change out of his torn clothing, and shut off his light. He soon fell asleep, that one thought still lingering in his head.
The next morning, the sunlight slowly filtered the dark bedroom, the rays falling upon the figure lying in his bed. As the light hit his closed eyelids, he sat up, rubbing his eyes, and stretched the sore muscles in his shoulders. He groaned and let his head fall back onto the pillow, not wanting to do anything today. But as soon as he made contact with the bed, he shot back up, rubbing his head. Looking down, he realized this was not his bed. He looked up and his eyes widened in shock. This was not his room, not his house. He was in a cell! Trapped like an animal! He looked up to realize that sun was no sun at all, but a blinding white lamp. His gaze moved to his attire, a bright yellow shirt with matching pants.
What was going on?! Where was he?! He quickly stood, hitting his head against the top bunk.
"Hey, watch it down there!"
The occupant of the bunk cried out.
"Oh, uh, sorry about that."
Wait a minute, who was that?! He looked into the bunk to see a large muscled man resting on his back. He gasped and backed up a few steps.
"Who are you? Where am I?!"
"You're in jail, ya punk. Where'd you think you were, Buckingham Palace? No, wait, forgot. That place was destroyed years ago."
"Jail?! But I'm a kid! Why am I in jail?!"
"A kid? Have you looked in the mirror lately? Freak.."
The mirror. He looked over at the grey wall, which held a small mirror and rusty, dirt-riddled sink. Slowly he walked up to the shining peice of glass, and looked inside. What he saw nearly sent him flying out of his very skin. This wasn't him! It couldn't be!
A young man looked back at him, maybe in his mid-twenties or early thirties. The lenses of his glasses were cracked and useless, the spike of his hair hung forward, dangling between his eyes. He lifted his hand to his chin, which was covered in small spikes of hair, forming the beginning of a beard. What was going on?! He had gone to bed last in his own room, with his clothes, and his blankets. But now he woke up as a thirty year old man, stuck in jail?!
"I--I don't understand! What's going on?! Why am I here?!"
"Why are you here? That shouldn't be too hard to answer. You were the leader of the rebellion, after all."
"The rebellion? What rebellion?"
"Those guards must have hit you harder than it looked last night."
The man occupying the top bunk chuckled to himself, and another, leaner cellmate laughed along with him. Dib simply stared at the two, eyes wide in fear. What was going on? What rebellion had he run? And most importantly, why was he thirty years old and in jail? Bewildered, he fell onto the bottom bunk, jaw draping open, as he stared into space and tried to figure this out.
His thinking time fell short however when three guards came to stand in front of his cell, led by a single female. Her hair was a dark purple in color, and was held in a tight ponytail. She wore a dark black suit and tie, and around her neck was an amulet, a skull to be precise.
"That's the one," she said, pointing to Dib.
Instantly the three guards opened the cell and harshly grabbed Dib by his arms, dragging him away from the cell. He fought and struggled to free himself from their grip, but it was no use. As he was dragged away, he stared into the eyes of that female. There was something very familiar about her, but he couldn't quite place just what it was. She closed and locked the cell door behind the guards, and soon followed.
He was brought away from the dark jail, and into a large room. The walls were lined with almost identical guards, all wearing the same dark uniforms, and all clasping their hands in front of them. He was thrown violently onto the ground in front of a tall throne.
"Here's the one you asked for, sir. Prisoner #666A."
The female spoke to the occupant of the thrown, and Dib's eyes slowly followed her gaze until they fell upon who it was she spoke to. No, it couldn't be. This--this was impossible! The two wide crimson eyes soon fell upon his own, and narrowed upon the contact.
"Zim?! You--you--this..this can't be!
The green alien scoffed at Dib's babbling and allowed a devious grin to spread across his face.
"Oh, but it is idiotic huuman. I would have though you'd accepted that fact by now."
He turned his gaze to the group of guards that had brought Dib in.
"Guards! Bring this filthy to his feet!"
They quickly obeyed and roughly threw Dib up, until he stood before Zim, who hadn't grown an inch. Despite what was happening, Dib snickered at this fact. But his grin soon faded as Zim glared at him.
"You and your little clan have been causing me annoyances, Dib. You have been opening the minds of the followers, and forcing me to imprison them until they can remember who their real leader is. While normally this I wouldn't mind, it's causing me valuable time."
He paused for a moment to gaze into Dib's beaten face once more.
"While usually I simply dispose of the rebellions, I thought maybe you'd come in handy, with your superior knowledge of science. How would you like to take board under my lead? Join the comrades, gain power?"
Dib looked up at him this entire time, his eyes burning with hatred. He looked at Zim's cocky expression, and how he seemed to enjoy the suffering he put humanity through. He wondered what Zim was thinking at this very moment, what was going on in that brain of his, or whatever the alien's equivalent was. He thought about what Zim said. He and his clan? Causing annoyances? He was proud of himself. For whatever it was he had done, he was proud.
He considered Zim's offer. Join the ranks, gain power? It sounded good, even for just the one moment. But he knew he couldn't. He didn't know what was going on, he didn't know how he got here, or how long he'd have to stay, he didn't even know just how much of an impact he'd made on Zim's kingdom, but he knew one thing; he would never stoopd to that level. He would never give in and assist Zim in destroying all humanity. He lowered his eyebrows and looked back up to the green alien.
He watched Zim's expression, looking for the reaction to his refusal, but found none. The Irken kept a cold hard stare, not showing his feelings toward the human for a moment. But his eyes suddenly narrowed in anger.
"You had the chance to be free. You had the chance to rid yourself of your imprisonment. You will regret this decision, Prisoner #666A."
He turned to the guards who still stood behind Dib.
"Guards, take him away!"
With that, they again grabbed him and began to drag him back to the underground jail. He struggled to get free, but knew it was hopeless. Just before the two large doors swung closed after him, he looked again to the female, who was now talking to Zim. Then the doors closed, and he was dragged back to his cell.