Chapter Text
Florpus Hole - noun
/F - lu - ore - puss/
- A tear in the fabric of reality, the Florpus Hole sucks in anything nearby and forces it to collide with alternate realities, until it's torn apart.
"The Almighty Tallest and the entire Irken Armada were sucked into a Florpus Hole. No one survives those."
---
It was June first when it happened- early 'Summer', late 'Spring'. The leaves on trees were beginning to die, and fall, and Zim once found it irritating. Now, he finds it poetic, possibly. The Earth was dying quicker than it had been in recent years, just like his own sanity- Computer doubts that he had any to begin with. Trees lived forever on Irk, until they were cut down, no matter the season. Then again, the season rarely changed from deep purple and red skies. Trees here, on Earth, often died by natural means. Disease, parasites, changing of the seasons. Irk was a perfect empire, and had no such thing for anything in it's orbit. Let alone on it.
That's what Zim believed, until he began to question his own existance, his own people, his own kind. He was right to. He was always right. Sometimes he wishes he was wrong about some things.
The Florpus happened. He caused it, of course. Zim believed that the Tallests had made some kind of mistake. Somehow. They.. Earth wasn't in their path- in the Massive's path. He decided to teleport the entire Earth into their path, and apparently that caused a temporal displacement in spacetime so great that it made a Florpus Hole. Dib-stink's dumb father teleported Earth back to it's original location, and thus.. the Massive ended up sucked into the Florpus. Their location; unknown. Their status; unknown. By all accounts, they were dead. Thousands upon thousands of Irken Elite. Dead. Zim single handedly (technically) killed thousands of his own kind, all in attempt to be noticed by them.
Dib would've congratulated him, if Zim even allowed the boy to look at him after the incident.
"Do not talk to Zim. Do not attempt to contact Zim. Do not even think of Zim. By Earthly standards, consider Zim dead." He had told him, the day after the Florpus killed millions in a blink of an eye. Zim, with minimoose and Gir in tow, retreated into his base, vowing to unravel every secret of the Irken Empire that he could get his hands on.
He did not know if it was out of spite, or out of hatred, or even out of self-respect. Zim simply knew that it must be done. For better or for worse. He had no home to return to, no Tallest to report to, and no reason to keep living in the obedient fog that laid over his eyes after the second he was given his PAK.
No one in the known universe could understand the lonliness of an Irken that could never return to Irk.
---
July 12th, 20XX
One month, twelve days,
after the Florpus.
One month passed since the Florpus. Dib hasn't stopped showing up on the security feed at random hours of the day and night, and has become more persistent after Skool ended for the summer. One more year, and they'd both be going to Hi Skool- that is, if they were both normal human smeets. Zim was Irken, not human. He had to constantly remind himself of that in recent years, after spending so long around them. He verbalized it whenever he had to remind himself- it's why he always called humans inferior- to not remind himself, to not remember that fact, is to surrender. Zim never surrenders.
The Massive's Computer, otherwise known as the Tallest's Computer, kept certain restrictions on Zim's Computer while it was active, since it gave Zim it's updates on where the Massive was, and where the Massive would be. The Massive's Computer was completely destroyed, decimated, crushed to atoms and debris in the endless void of space. Zim's Computer notified him of the new surge of information that he uncovered after successfully hacking into Irk's mainframe- it took him four straight days of breaking firewalls and destroying any trace that he could've left in the servers, but he did it.
Zim learned.. lots of things. Things that he didn't think any Invader should know, but he wasn't an Invader, was he? The Tallests told him that himself. He was a danger to his people, his species, his Hive, and was sent into exile. He learned why he was so dangerous, as well.
He was defective.
Zim's PAK was.. different. It had multiple old programs, discarded software, even some bugs that could've killed him if he was in the wrong environment when he landed on Earth. PAK's were supposed to be indestructable, compact super computers that could regulate anything and everything in an Irken's body, yet.. Zim's was flawed. Therefore, he was flawed.
Huh.
The realization did little to quell his anxiety. If anything, it rose. He dove deeper into his research, and his understanding of his own kind and himself never seemed to grow. His confusion elevated, and the need for more answers than questions piled up on top of him like those piles of meat that the children would use to throw at eachother on, ugh, Valentines day.
Still, Zim continued his search.
---
December 2nd, 20XX
Six months, two days,
after the Florpus
About four months in, Dib's visits became less frequent, less eratic. He didn't try to break into Zim's house, nor attempt to destroy his property. Instead he sat at his door for hours at a time. Gaz regularly had to come get him so he would come home at night. The only emotion Zim could understand when he saw him, snot faced, red eyed, banging on his door for him to 'come back', was disgust.
That's all he categorized it as. Maybe it was some other useless human emotion.
Regarding emotion, he realized Irken's weren't supposed to feel it. Jealousy, possibly, irritation, absolutely, terror, rarely. But genuine happiness was unheard of, true sadness was unlikely, and most emotions they expressed were only mirror images- imitations. Irkens were part of a Hive Mind, they did what they were assigned to do with unwavering proficiency, uncaring if they die or kill.
Yet, Zim has felt happy when slogging a mishapen snowball at Dib and having it hit him in his huge head. Yet, Zim has felt overwhelming sadness when he was faced with the realization that his own species didn't want him. Yet, Zim has felt- truly felt- every single emotion that humans feel every day. They weren't imitations, they weren't fake, they were real.
He's felt sadistic, jealous, insecure, overpowered, overwhelmed, manic, hysteria- even all out insanity. He supposed that was why his people wanted him gone. He was a danger to everyone and everything around him, he was a danger to the Irken Empire, to everything they had built.
On one claw, he applauded them. Good. That's what Irken's do. Kill and abandon the ones that are broken and unhinged, and strive to become an even more powerful army.
On the other claw, he felt abandoned. He felt broken, and unhinged. He felt like they could have just deactivated him if he was that much of an issue, if he was so dangerous, if he was.. a mistake.
He couldn't be a mistake- he was Zim. Zim was perfect, Zim was indestructable, Zim was able to wipe out an entire armada by himself (kinda), with only his superior intelect and destructive tendancies that they had wanted to get rid of in the first place! Their loss, yeah?!
..yeah?
Zim.. truly didn't know anymore.
---
March 17th, 20XX
Nine months, seventeen days,
after the Florpus
Nine months had passed, now. Dib stopped coming to see if Zim would let him in. Zim realized that seeing a familiar face- seeing Dib- kept him going, in a way. He didn't overthink about what that could mean. He couldn't hear his sobs as he sat at his doorstep, his yelling as he broke his gnomes and tore out the fake grass on his lawn, his screaming as Gaz dragged him off down the street- the silence was unbearable. He had deactivated Gir, after all. Momentarily, he had told himself, while he searched for answers to questions he hadn't even known he had.
Zim's head hurt, but his chest hurt more. He refused to admit that he missed Gir or Dib, despite how his Computer tried to make him. Minimoose did it's own thing, anyways. Zim wasn't that close with it.
Awhile ago, maybe around the time he started to dig into Irk's history, Zim had disabled an inhibator within his PAK. What the inhibitor did was unknown. His Computer only told him it was.. holding something back. Apparently, multiple other nodes and artifacts within the confines of his PAK did similar things.
Today, he finally disabled the last one, and updated his PAK for the first time in a year.
It knocked him unconcious for awhile, as did all updates. When he came to, a noticable later of dust was atop his body, and his PAK. The three large tubes connecting to the device on his back disconnected, as the update was complete, and ascended into the ceiling, disappearing.
The first thing Zim noticed was that his uniform was.. very tight. Constricting. He looked down, and realized it had ripped and torn in multiple places. He was taller. Longer, would be more appropriate, but he had definitely grown.
The ache in his bones and skin was so strong that he couldn't stand, let alone walk, for multiple days. He continued to grow the more he stretched out his limbs. Before the update, he was around four feet even. Now, he was around.. five feet and four inches. By his knowledge, the tallest were five feet and ten inches. Huh. Not bad.
The Computer determined that one of the inhibators in his PAK restricted his growth and didn't allow him to grow past a certain height, even with the different gravity on Earth that allowed most humans to grow to be as tall if not taller than the Tallests. He grew at such an alarming rate that when the Computer analyzed it was a certain chemical reaction that kept his bones and body from meeting Tallest standards, it made complete sense. It was quite interesting, looking at the data. Apparently only those of royal blood, aka direct descendants from the First Irken's, have been Tallests. So, being a Tallest was rigged from the start.
Figures.
The Computer analyzed any other chemical, biological, and behavioral changes that updating his PAK possessed. He seemed to be.. calmer. Only slightly, and not as quick to anger. More mature, even. His bones were more dense, now, his organ had morphed in some way to allow certain things to be able to be digested, and he had apparently grown a second organ, one besides his squeedily-spooch, one that had been genetically removed after years of cloning.
He grew sexual reproductive organs. And sweat glands, too, apparently.
Usually he wouldn't notice the warmth of his base after being down in his lab for so long, but after he began to sweat, and the pressence of liquid on his skin made him jump high enough to bonk his head on a light fixure, he certainly did notice it. The Computer installed and programed fans to turn on once his PAK determins his temperature rising.
His new growth and changes in how his PAK works did not hinder his research. In fact, it made things easier. He could reach his higher shelves now without his PAK legs, he didn't need anymore stepping stools, and his feet could finally reach the ground whenever he sat in a chair. It was nice, being tall.
He didn't think about the other issues that would come later. Issues that would be much more difficult to bare than sweating.
---
May 8th, 20XX
Eleven months, eight days,
after the Florpus
Apparently, Skool had began back in August of last year. It ended, soon, as well. This meant that Dib would be graduating, along with his sister, and go on to Hi Skool. Zim's Computer mentioned how he should email them a congratulations on doing it. He laughed like a maniac for what felt like hours at the suggestion. The Computer said nothing.
It was 'Spring', now. Soon, 'Summer'. Zim didn't know why human's bothered labeling them if the seasons would just repeat every year. Unlike on Irk, their seasons were almost random. Sometimes there was volcanic hail, other times acid rain, but nothing really stood out other than the sky turning progressively red or pink from purple and dark blue, sometimes. What he'd give to see those skies again. To really see them. Pictures on the Computer weren't enough.
Before the update to his PAK, Zim never got tired. He never got exhausted or peckish or insanely hungry- if anything, when he did or if he did, it'd be small, tiny events that he could just ignore. Now, sometimes, he had to sleep, or else he'd pass out on his keyboard. Now, sometimes, he had to eat his bodyweight in sugary, shitty, inferior human food, or else he'd feel miserable. Once Spring came, those feelings grew more intense, and one day, he noticed something was off.
Zim had a cut. Well, more like an opening, but it looked like a cut, on his crotch.
It was inbetween his long, slender legs, and was about the length of one of his larger claws. He noticed it while changing into a new uniform, not like he frequently looks between his legs, though. No. He noticed it because the crotch of his tights were noticably wet. And sticky. He hated sticky.
An analysis from his Computer informed him that it was natural, and that his new sexual organ had made it. Apparently it was just to signal that he was in his 'Prime', or whatever that meant. The description of it when he datamined the original source wasn't very helpful. He accepted it, regardless, and simply decided it was time for a change in wardrobe, thanks to this predicament.
He was running out of human food after not even two months of this. He'd need to go out eventually.
Unlike when he first landed on Earth, Zim knew what he was doing now. He knew about human design, about their culture, about how they dress, and about how they usually didn't have puke green skin. The creation of a new 'uniform' only took a merely four days, as he now needed sleep and snack breaks.
Along with creating a new fabric that could ensure his pants do not get soaked in that liquid that his sexual organ secretes, he updated his disguise. He upgraded his leggings to include a pair of shorts that laid over top of them, made his boots more 'mainstream' which simply included putting a lot of straps and fake belts on them, traded in his combat top for a pink and magenta hoodie, and was able to add fake straps around his arms to really make his PAK look like a bookbag. It was still metal, though. Humans weren't that perceptive anyways.
A new cloak for his skin was developed within another day, a new wig was created within seconds with a different material that wouldn't make his antennae itch, new fingerless gloves to be hip with the kids, and Zim was reformed. If Gir was active, he would have a term for it. A 'sparkle-rise' or something to show how better his appearance was now.
The thought of Gir prompted Zim to begin another project after he was comfortable with his appearance- a project that he would need more parts for. He'd 'fix' him. Or, at least, make him less destructive and get him a better mutt disguise. Puke green colored dogs weren't really a thing either.
---
May 18th, 20XX
Eleven months, eighteen days,
after the Florpus
Yeah, he can't do it. He can't go outside. Not until he's absolutely positive that he has to. Oh Irk- he was cowardly. Maybe that update gave him some common sense as well. He remembers times almost exactly like these where he remembers himself running head first into whatever awaited him- no plan B, sometimes not even a plan A. It's a wonder how he survived this long. Maybe it's determination. Or maybe he's just stubborn. His Computer mentions how he's probably just stubborn, and while he angrily eats away at his bag of cheese puffs, he flips it off in a way where it can see from it's front camera in front of the keyboard. It sighs, almost endearingly, if Zim knows anything about the kinds of sigh's he's heard in his life.
He and his Computer have somewhat bonded. The machine mentions how he's easier to deal with, and much easier to respect now. Zim agrees when the Computer says how he used to act like a smeet in most situations, and how that made following his commands difficult. He was still pretty insane, and had his moments where he'd express an extreme amount of one finite emotion, but at least now it didn't make the a.i want to strangle him. Zim loosely remembers Dib saying he wanted to strangle Zim whenever he had his tantrums.
Regardless of that, Zim was now deciding on whether or not to re-ingrain himself in human society. He's seen how they've somewhat evolved in the past year- new technology, new studies, new planatary studies- apparently some smart humans actually noticed the fact that they were seconds away from complete catastrophic destruction last year. Dib's father-human was still ignorant on the standing of aliens, and at this point Zim shared his same irritation in seeing his idiotic speeches about how they, humans, were the only intelligent life in the universe. Absolute baffoon, that man, despite his multiple technological and scientific inventions.
In more pressing matters, Zim's sexual organ has began producing more of that sticky, sweet smelling liquid. He constructed a device to catch it and despose of it after it filled up, but it was impractical and he needed to be laid sideways for it to work. It is difficult to do research and experiments on how to remove 'solar system self destruction' from his PAK while sideways.
Ah, right, that. He was unable to leave Earth's solar system, currently, due to something in his PAK. It was probably disguised as something vital that, without it, he would die within a matter of seconds, like something that produces his body's antibodies or blood cells, or something that regulates his brain activity to make sure he doesn't have a seizure whenever he walks a certain distance. His Computer could find no data on the subject, or any Irkens the protocol had been used on. It was apparently something that the Empire made specifically for him. Wow. Lucky.
Either way, he'd keep trying. Zim couldn't be contained on one planet for very long, that's for damn sure.
---
Present Day
One year, two months, three days
after the Florpus
It was August again before Zim knew it, and he had officially ran out of sustinance to keep himself alive. The drenching of his legwear has decreased drastically, and the gap between his legs seemed to have been sated. For now. He still didn't know why it was there, or for what, as there was no information of how a mature Irken's sexual organs worked after a certain era. He had to keep digging to find it. How long for, he didn't know. Either way, he knew it would mean he needed more food if it meant he wanted to, well, not starve. His Computer would make his sleeping den more accessible and comfortable in his absence, and would begin motifying Gir to the best of it's ability without his assistance.
It was the first time in years he had left his underground lab. He wondered how much the planet Earth had changed without him there to percieve it. Was the air thinner? Was the water dirtier? Were the streets cleaner? Were the humans nicer? Zim would find out in due time, he supposed.
Taking the toilet elevator up to the first level, Zim realized quite soon that he didn't tell the Computer to fix it according to his height. He was extremely happy with the increased bone density now, as his head surely would've cracked open on the porcelain.
The alien hissed and clicked out a number of strewn together Irken curse words in a high pitched tone after his head connected with the toilet and promptly broke it, the pale white pieces flying around everywhere when he flew through the human item- almost half of his body as stuck in the object now, and he yelled like a bandsheep-
"Computer!!" He had practically screeched, immediately met with metal arms that yanked him out of the broken toilet and placed him on the dust coated tile of his kitchen. Fuck- ow. His wig didn't even manage to stop the impact from hurting so bad that he wanted to just go lay down in his cot and nap for a few hours. He ran a claw through his fake hair, and instantly flinched away at the pain. Hopefully his PAK would take care of that soon- physical injuries seemed to take a bit longer to heal after his upgrade. Thank goodness his antennae weren't placed in the center of his head when his skull connected with the toilet.
"Ugh-" Zim clicked another curse or two under his breath in Irken, the language weirdly foreign on his snake like tongue, "Zim hates toilets- why can't humans just secrete their waste products in nature like every other species that does not possess a PAK?!" He exclaimed, already more irritated than he was when he left his lab, earning what sounded like a vocalized shrug in response from his Computer.
"I have no idea. Anyway," the a.i quickly moved along with more important matters- Zim rolled his bright magenta eyes, "I sent a grocery list to your PAK, along with the credit card info of some random human that I found who vaugely looks like you when you're in disguise." Two mechanical tendrils came down from the ceiling in front of him, one holding a small container and the other holding a blank, white card. Zim took both of them with a scoff, and the tendrils went back into the ceiling as he began to walk to his very unused and unanswered front door, boot heels clicking on the kitchen tile.
"Right. Zim understands. Human currancy is a nuisance." Another annoyed roll of his eyes when he stuffed the card into his hoodie pocket, and a satisfied hum when he opened the small container to see his newly developed contacts. "Zim is guessing these are the-"
"The ones that you requested to be made with the less eye-irritating material, yes." Zim nodded in confirmation, and easily slipped the contacts into his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust them. Ah. Bliss. Felt way better. A year ago he would've chastized the Computer for interrupting him, but he wasn't that petty anymore. Well, he was still petty, of course he was still petty, but just not so petty that he couldn't function unless he one-upped anyone who dared to even glance at him wrong.
"Alright, then. Zim will return! In due time." His voice still rose and fell in certain ways, though, like just now. He was still dramatic, still extravagant, still intense, just... more tame. He could get shit done now without being manic about it.
"Got it. I'll renovate the house a bit too while you're gone. This living room is drop-dead hideous." Zim could hear the machine fake-shiver, "Who knows what I was thinking when we got here."
"Zim has no idea. Either way," the Irken opened the door with a flourish and a zipper toothed grin, "Zim shall return!" He waved to the Computer, and imagined it waving back when the door gently closed behind him. He wasn't ready for the state of his lawn since the last time he's checked the front cameras.
His poor, poor gnomes. They were smashed and ruined to bits, chunks of machinery and porcelain strewn about everywhere. His fake grass looked dead, if it was even possible to kill something that was never alive in the first place. His lawn was littered with trash and human waste, and looked absolutely terrible by his standards. Quickly, while still looking wide eyed at the mess of his front yard, Zim yelled back to the Computer to please do something with the exterior as well. He recieved an internal ping from his PAK of a 'thumbs up' emoticon. That was good enough for him. With a deep breath, and a wiggle of his squeedily-spooch to hurry up and get food for them, Zim was off.
Walking down the street to get to the shopping district was a fucking nightmare, though. Trash and cigarette buds every four feet, some houses boarded up completely, others looking worse for wear but had cars in the driveway, and the putrid smell of pollution hanging in the air. His PAK filtered out all the bad shit thankfully, and his material cloak for his skin color also prevented any bacteria from making him burn and writhe in agony. He physically shivered at the thought of going to the city, but ignored it in favor of getting food and visiting the garbage dump for spare parts.
He relished in the memory of being decked out in all his protective anti-germ gear, diving into piles of metal and disease, finding things that could help his current inventions, finding inspiration to make new ones. He only relished for a second though, since he'd have to walk home covered in grime and dirt with his freshly packaged sweets. Ugh. He had a lot of shit to do today.
It didn't take that long of a walk for Zim to get to the city, which looked way worse than he remembered it. The place practically had a veil of pollution and dirt and ash around it- literally. The clouds were almost black hanging above that place. Worried about acid rain that would surely occur in such a vile place, Zim put his hoodie on before venturing into it.
If there was one thing he remembered about going into the city, it was the crowds. He remembers stomping feet, smelly human butts, giant legs getting in the way of his commute- but it wasn't so bad now that he was taller. Apparently taller than the average human person, too, since he grew a bit more after the initial check of his height awhile ago. He was around five feet and six inches- five feet and eleven if you counted his antennae, which had grown as well in height to reach about half a foot. He didn't tower over every human he passed, but it was definitely easier to manuver past the ignorant mass of human flesh now that he wasn't two feet tall.
Soon enough, he reached Mallkart, the giant shopping center for pretty much everything; clothes, medicine, tech, and most importantly, food. Zim's squeedily spooch squealed in excitement, and he almost did verbally too.
Walking inside the establishment, and easily passing by security which was much harder when he was the size of a human smeet, Zim plucked a germ ridden kart from the row that sat before the rest of the store, and immediately rolled the squeaky wheeled vehicle to the food isle.
Zim tossed four of everything in his kart- squeezy chocos, juiced cream, sparkle pops, anything sugary was a nessecity for an Irken. Their diet was purely sugar, after all. Veggies were a secondary, and anything liquid was next up if you could add sugar in it. Zim got a few containers of lemonaids mix as well, once he thought about it. Two big bags of sugar almost as big as his upper body, which was decently sized now, were last on his list. He got a choccy bar for the road at the checkout counter, and ignored the stares of the humans behind him.
Zim was used to staring.
"That'll be 209.98, sir." The young lady behind the counter spoke after taking about ten minutes to scan all his items, pointing to the cashe in front of him where he could pay. Zim plucked the card from his pocket, swiped, and entered the four digit number that his PAK provided for him like he's done this a million times. The money deposited, and now he just had to wait for the two block headed bagger boys to actually bag all his things up.
Zim blankly stared at them, half amused at how badly they were trying to comprehend all the shit he brought, half irritated because he was hungry, dammit. Hurry up.
Soon, Zim felt imaginary hair stand up on the back of his neck, a tell that someone was watching him, and whipped his head to the side with wide eyes to see that the check-out human was staring at him with a smile on her face, batting her eye hairs. Zim stared back. No words were exchanged. Zim became mildly uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to berate the human female when she talked- he registered the pronged tongue in her mouth and the metal pieces on her bottom lip.
"You're kinda hot, y'know. What's your name?" She slurred out in a weird tone, making Zim frown just slightly. Ew. Ew. Despite the fact his antennae were under his wig and hoodie, he could still smell the fact that this human female was trying to 'flirp' with him. Zim has watched many human films in his time. He hated this... 'flirping'.
The human female was nothing special. Just trying to stand out like most human female's nowadays. Her hair was neon blue, and her eyes were obviously contacts as they were the same color. Her skin was tanned, Zim assumed mexican descent, her claws were painted black and were long, sharp at the tip, and she had a piece of metal in the shape of a ring in her nose. Her nametag read 'Roxanne'. Zim attempted not to physically cringe at trying to pronounce that.
"Zim will not disclose Zim's name to you, human girl. Zim is here for his SUSTINANCE! Only his sustinance." He spoke loudly and brashly, as he always did, a hiss in his tone when he acknowledged her status, as if to say she was below him. Like. Really. Working as a cash-eer? How little must a human's self respect be?
The girl laughed, like he told a joke, which he did not, as he was being completely serious. He suppressed the urge to groan in annoyance when she spoke again.
"You're soooo funny! Love your fit, too. Like, what's this made out of, it looks so soft." She reached out to attempt to touch his hoodie, and Zim retaliated almost instantly before she had the chance to intercept his personal bubble. The Irken flung himself backwards, managing not to knock anyone over or fall into any karts that possessed human smeets. He hissed, and his pupils dilated when he pointed an accusatory finger at her.
"YOU do not touch ZIM. Zim CAN and WILL remove your human organs from out of your ears and HARVEST THEM!" The Irken screeched at the top of his lungs, and the notable silence that cascaded over Mallkart only reinforced his statement. Thankfully, the two human teens had finished bagging his food and put it back in his kart, to which he snatched the recipt from the machine next to the ignorant human girl and spedwalk off, ignoring the 'call me!' that she yelled moments after.
Ugh. Humans and their inability to respect personal space. He hated it here.
Ignoring the security men that attempted to stop him from taking the kart with him, Zim thus left Mallkart to go to the garbage dump. He hunched himself over his kart to make sure no grabby humans touched his things as he walked to the mostly less inhabitated area, and mosied on in like it was just another store. The place didn't have any security- it was just a giant plot of land for waste. Perfect for homeless humans, humans who were addicted to substances that would eventually kill them, and rats. Oh, and those bigger rats that have stripes and masks. Rattoons, if Zim remembered correctly.
He took a bit longer in the dump looking for stuff than he did in the mall, mostly because he didn't really have a grocery list for trash and parts, but whatever. Zim would find what he needed eventually, since other stuff likes to land in human garbage dumps too. As in, like, alien stuff. If Dib was concerned about Zim, he should really be more concerned about the alien gadbage that ends up in the atmosphere and eventually just crashes into this place. Apparently Earth is every alien race's garbage dump, since Zim got put here to die and waste away.
Eh, whatever. He's accepted it. Kinda.
It was around sundown when he was heading back to his base, items that he brought at Mallkart in the bottom of the kart, parts that he found at the garbage dump in the higher spot where he's seen older female humans place their item holders and their smeets. There were less and less humans walking until Zim got back, which made him guess that most of the neighborhood he was living in was barren. Humans move their bases a lot, sometimes for the stupidest reasons like.. taxies. Whatever the hell those were.
When he pulled up to his base, it already looked a million times better.
It looked like the Computer gave it a paintjob, and another floor to boot- this time a upper one instead of a down one. His gmomes were back, this time spread out in various places to cover more ground other than the walkway up to his house. There were flower beds under his windows which were a nice magenta color- Zim liked that. The house as a whole just looked more like a house, and fit into the other places next to it pretty well instead of sticking out like a soar thumb. Zim supposed it really did stick out now, since all the other houses looked old and sickly compared to his- it appeared brand new. The color scheme was the same though- which was good. He liked that color scheme.
With a somewhat grin on his face, he walked up to his door, glad to see his gnomes watching his every move. The oakwood slid open when he approached it, and he hadn't even needed to pause.
"Whew. Zim thinks it looks great, Computer!" The Irken exclaimed as he took in the inside of his base, noticing how very human it seemed now instead of Irken. In front of his t.v, mounted on a dark red and light gray wall, was a cough-fee table, with candles and fake books and everything. His couch didn't look torn up and puked on anymore, and now had a side table for drinks as well as a lamp for if he didn't want the overhead light on. He had a walk in kitchen, still, but it looked like an actual kitchen now. Stove, oven, microwave, real cubbords and a working fridge, even a pantry, which his PAK told him was a new entrance to his lab. It was tall. Perfect.
Instead of hardwood, which were cold and gnarly to walk on whenever he was barefood, he had carpet. It was the same dark red color of Irk's ground, and he immediately kicked off his dirty boots at the door to feel it. Ah- bliss. He'd look at the upstairs later. His PAK already told him the layout. Two bedrooms, a bathroom, all three rooms had lab entrances that would only activate once his heat signiture was confirmed it was him. Zim let the kart go for the Computer to take and go catagorize everything he had, stripped his head of his hood and wig, and practically collapsed on the couch. The light green color was nice.
"This is perfect, Computer. Perfect for Zim." He sighed out, taking a second to make his always on guard body relax. He had never been able to do that before either, apparently. Another inhibator. Probably why he was so unhinged all the time. The Computer openly chuckled, and Zim finally had the courage to call his base a home away from home. Irk would always be his home, but.. this. This was good enough.
Yeah. After the Florpus, this was good enough. Zim hadn't even realized he had opened up the choccy bar he had in his pocket and began eating it until the Computer mentioned that he should eat a bit more than just that. Zim agreed.