ᵍᵤₕ — ᵍʰⁿₙₖ, bₗₑₕ, wₕᵤₕₕgₕ﹖?

A mistake.

This whole thing is all just one, big, colossal failing.

Skoodge had gotten far too comfortable.

Far too used to life on Earth. Even as wild and hostile it has the tendency to be, he’d grown accustomed to it, to the many tiny things that made him want to stick around longer, the things that made him want to stay still in his one spot on the planet and relax.

He shouldn’t have let his guard down like this.

It’s only been a day.

One day.

That’s not too bad, is it?

No.

Skoodge stayed ugly and still in one spot like he always does, for one whole entire day, not doing anything, foolishly assuming that things were fine and dandy, and that, if they weren’t, then they would work out in the end, anyway. They usually do.

Wading through the cluttered floor like he’s stuck smack dab in the middle of a swamp, sunk into it from the waist down, he makes his way over to Hal.

Okay. That may be a slight exaggeration. In reality, the random scraps of junk and garbage only go halfway up to his boots. And that’s only in some of the less-good parts of the room.

But it’s still bad. This place needs a good scrubbing. Zim would cry if he saw it.

Probably.

Hopefully, Zim will get to see it, if he hasn’t already. They can double team the cleaning. At this point, Skoodge wouldn’t complain about getting his gloves all gross and mucked, wouldn’t mind getting bossed around, so long as it meant Zim was back.

“No Zim.” Not yet, at least. Skoodge is staying hopeful, even if it’s stupid of him, even if every other irken would suggest he cut his losses and move on.

When he finally reaches Hal, he lurches, tripping on some taxidermy thing – Why does she even have that? – and grasps her by the shoulders to steady himself.

“Check my PAK.” He speaks quick, rushed, with little thought and no prompting. “There’s a trial, he might be there –“ he continues to ramble on, regardless of whatever reaction Hal may be displaying. His hands tighten, their grasp becoming unpleasant. “Use your hacking whatevers and track the signal.” Finally, he releases her shoulders, stepping back. “Or – or maybe you can just skip the PAK and cut into some feed directly from Judgementia, I don’t know!”  His free hands raise to his pinned antennae, and tug. It doesn’t look like it feels very good.

Even that sudden display of weakness doesn’t last long, and once it happens, it’s over, just as fast as his jumbled words have been thus far.

His hands speak with him now, flying about and articulating his words. “I’m no good for this kind of thing, but, but you are, right?” There are instances, occasionally, where one will jerk, or twitch. Where they’ll shake without his prompting. “I’ll let you get your grubby hands all over this –” he knocks his fist into his PAK, resulting in some heavy thuds. “– if it’ll help!”

@squeaking-madness continued from here because the formatting fucked up and we’re just gonna do beta editor i stg

Hal noted the way the humans seemed to walk right through him, a mighty Irken soldier, a conqueror in his own right, reduced to dodging between giants. Humans didn’t know and didn’t particularly care. Sweet, simple Earth.

To be fair, it didn’t seem as though his fellow Irkens treated Skoodge much better.

Were her and Zim his only friends? It certainly appeared so, from the way he talked about it. They were their own bizarre little island of the wastes of the universe, or so it would appear. Maybe Zim would change everyone’s minds. Only one way to find out.

She glanced at the contents of his wallet, no context at all for what any of it meant or how much it was worth. Were those what they called… credit cards? But what was the difference between those and gift cards? Were those gift cards? And just how much monies was any of that worth to begin with. Hal looked back to Skoodge, nodding in agreement at his assurance. He’d been on Earth just a smidge longer than she had, afterall.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed, “I wonder if human malls are like the ones on Vort.” Hal pondered outloud, “Or like, those battlemall planets.” she hoped not, neither of them were exactly prepared for a battle right now. Jamming her hands into her pockets, Hal shrugged, staring up at the intimidating structure before looking back to Skoodge.

“Oh well, I guess we’ll find out.” she motioned with her head for him to follow her inside, “As long as we get those honey ducks for Gir, he won’t scream for hours.”

He fiddles with his disguise, assuring himself that everything is still in place since the last time he checked.

Staring up at the structure, Skoodge can’t help but feel... oddly at place. Looking at it.

It’s sorta like the megashopping structures out in space. Sorta. If you squint. And ignore how much smaller it is in comparison.

“Maybe,” he says in response, “but I don’t think no humans have couches near as good.”

He basks in the building’s bright florescent lights, spilling outside through the glass entrance.

While distracted, he misses the signaling motion of Hal’s head, and failed to notice her moving forward until she’d already gotten a little bit ahead of him.

Honey Ducks... Skoodge hums, walking through the front entrance, mindful of Hal and matching her strides. It’s a bit difficult, with his stubby legs, but he makes do. “Are those the cereal thing or the marshmallows?” He can’t remember... and he’d rather not have to scour the entire damn mall in search of this forbidden snack...

Gir’s screams tend to be worse than Zim’s, though. Skoodge would love to avoid one of the robot’s tantrums if he can help it.

“I guess we can just go through all of the stores?” He voices his thought out loud.

Individually. It’ll take longer, but they have time. And who knows, maybe it’ll be fun! Skoodge can already see some of those candy coin machines, planted in the center of the entrance passage, just begging to be rifled through. That's basically a fun mini-adventure, waiting to be had!

... No one’ll notice if he brings out one teensy little PAK tool, to get some candy, will they? He could also try sticking his tongue up there, if his PAK is out of the question...

Looking up at his company, he decides that’s probably not a good idea. His tongue very conspicuously sticks back up inside his mouth.

Oh well. Maybe his wallet has some ‘quarter’ monies.

Oh bloop. Groceries! Duh, that was the point of this whole thing to begin with. She really did need more cereal, oh and burgers, even despite Zim banning her from the kitchen; ‘You don’t know how to cook’ he says. It’s just putting things on a hot surface. What’s so hard about that? More importantly, how could she have forgotten? She supposed if she were Irken she would call this mission failed or something. 

“Fun, huh? We’re out of corn land, so, maybe…” she examined the buildings that passed as an announcement over the train’s intercom told them they were approaching the next stop. Civilization. Thank the universe. 

An Irken wanted to hang out with her, similar to the way Skoodge claimed him and Zim used to ‘hang out’ back on Irk. Apparently their mechanical minds could handle companionship afterall, at least, Skoodge’s could. He was probably even better at it than she was. Could that be another reason the tallests seemed not to like him? That he was… nice?

“Oh oh! Here’s our stop!” she excitedly stood, getting off at the platform with her Irken companion as the train pulled away. Hal never thought she’d be so grateful to be outside in actual fresh air, 

“Do you have any Earth monies? I just have what Zim gave me but… I don’t think he actually knows how monies work.” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a couple of wadded up bills, as well as a ball of rubber bands, “Is this enough for food you think?”      

Skoodge seems a little less relieved to be out of the stuffy train and into the stuffy 'fresh air', than Hal.

A few passing humans bump into them, uncaring of any personal space that stands in the way of their daily commute. Skoodge in particular gets bumped into more, his presence more difficult to notice under everyone else’s. At least it’s not rush hour. It’s not exactly crowded, per-say, more so just... full of inconsiderate people. Who aren't looking where they're going, possibly due to whatever time it is. When do humans sleep? Noon? Afternoon?

... Morning?

“Do I have whuh?” He asks and looks up at her, a wallet having manifested in his hands in the short second she was looking away. “Oh! Monies! Right!" He nods in affirmation, only just now really processing what she just asked him. "Lemme seeeeeeeee ’ereee...”

After a hot minute of him struggling with unlodging the button, the wallet opens up, revealing... mostly cards, along with some spare cash. He appraises it, as though he’s never seen the contents of the wallet before.

“... Looks like it! This'll probably be more than enough!” He closes it again, giving Hal a wide smile.

"And if it isn't, we'll just grab whatever we need on the way out," he mumbles under his breath while shrugging lightly, not exactly speaking to Hal, but not exactly not speaking to her, either.

He seemed to understand, at the very least. It was kind of nice having someone there who did. Zim didn’t listen to half the stuff she talked about, sometimes it was almost remarkable. Occasionally he did surprise her, pulling out a bit of information she’d mentioned in passing as though he’d been listening the whole time. That guy really was an enigma of an Irken.

So was Skoodge though, but in a different way.

Stripped of all his accomplishments just because he was a little short and round. Brutal. Some of Vort’s best scientists and engineers were just as short and round. Maybe? Hal wasn’t sure… actually. Vortians cared about looks, sure, but not enough to discredit someone; perhaps just enough to talk about them behind their backs in a pitiable tone. Hal wasn’t sure which felt worse. 

Credit or not, Zim and Hal at least still considered Skoodge to be the one to conquer Blorch, much to her deranged boss’ jealousy. Actually, it was kind of funny to witness, she liked when he yelled at people who weren’t her.  

“I think they’ll turn out just fine… okay as they can be, anyway.”

It’s all she can really say without bringing up the whole conquered home planet deal and making things unintentionally awkward. More proof she shouldn’t be liking any of these people, shouldn’t be as invested as she was beyond her job. Still, Hal’s inquisitive nature made that very difficult.

She peaked over his shoulder, following his line of sight towards wherever he was looking out the window. They were beginning to see some signs of civilization now. It wasn’t much but it was something.  

“Really? Fix it how?”

With a swift flick upwards, the shades are slipped back onto his face, held up through sheer willpower (and maybe a little bit of help from his rolls). “We were supposed to be getting groceries, right?” He asks, bouncing in his spot. “I was thinking, though, since we’re already late, and we’re getting closer to home...” He gives a vague gesture to the window behind him. “... why not have some fun?”

“There’s bound to be something around here that’s still open.” He’s thinking... arcades. Or comic stores. Or even a gas station. “And if there’s not, I think we could both find things ourselves.”

Maybe they can people watch? Anything that could be nice and distracting and could have the potential to last them a good few hours. At least until they need to fulfill their original task of procuring groceries, and return to the base.

"You probably know about way more things to do than I would. Maybe you could choose."

More buildings pass by in a blur, becoming more packed, denser, brighter. The stars dotting the sky disappear, replaced by the glowing lamps and signs of the city.

With a wiggle and a hops, Skoodge gets up and out from his seat, standing in the middle of the still-moving vehicle. A bump hits. Surprisingly, he doesn't stumble a single bit, a grin plastered on his wide face.

Targeted at the Irken empire indeed, not that Finn and the others had any real allegiance to rebels either. Afterall, they still wanted law, at the end of the day. The Nimas did not. Hal listened when Finn spoke, not to his words, so much, as much sense as they made at the time, but to the passion with which he said them. Finn’s ability to captivate was unparalleled. She’d found her place in the universe among his ranks, using her skills for a cause that was… probably fine in the end. Did it matter? She felt like she was someone when she was there. Shouldn’t her happiness mean anything at all?

Then there were Skoodge and Zim, allies, for now. If her brother had his way, she wouldn’t be making any that weren’t part of the ‘family’. So maybe not every single thing he said resonated just as much when he wasn’t there. Especially the stuff about Irkens. That they were a scourge who should be annihilated completely under his new galactic disorder.

Hal wasn’t hateful. She was complacent. There’s a difference.

Her companion seemed surprised by what she was saying. Hal wondered if Zim had told him anything at all. He was collecting miscreants for his mission of doom like vooleyball cards. Her anti-empire actions of the past hadn’t seemed to make as much of a difference to Zim as she thought they would.

From rebel to Irken minion. Just where did her loyalty lie? Maybe one day she would know what it meant to feel for a cause deeply. For now she just had to keep herself out of prison.

“Yep. Just them.” that she knew of, anyway, if there were any other’s out there they hadn’t exactly made themselves known, her mother always made it seem as though it was just the two of them alone. She hadn’t even told her she had brothers in the first place, most of this information coming to Hal after Voxia had already died.

If even an Irken could ascertain her upbringing hadn’t been normal, she was probably in trouble.

“It’s not bad.” she assured him, “I just… have to work hard. It’s all gonna be worth it in the end.” sometimes, she really didn’t know how, “And don’t worry, you know I’m team Zim! Guess I need… something to do while I’m on this corn planet.”

“It’s not bad?” Is it? Didn’t she just insinuate that it was? Or, part of it? Somewhere? Maybe it really isn’t and Skoodge is looking too deeply into things he knows too little about. Maybe everything Hal has told him and is continuing to tell him is completely normal and fine!

There’d be a great deal more ascertaining going on here if Skoodge had any idea what he was supposed to be listening for.

There’s an idea of it, at the very least. Thoughts can form, he can grasp certain parts – but it feels like any and all significance of this conversation is being lost to him. There are bigger pieces than what he’s already looking at, but he can’t put them together.

Guess he’ll just have to settle for working with what he’s got.

Which means completely ignoring all the concerning things that should be beaming red flags directly into his optic implants to instead focus on the wrong, easier to digest points.

“Yeah, I can see that. Working hard works real good!” He grins, wide and sincere, like he genuinely believes that working hard will get you up some metaphorical ladder in society, completely oblivious to the irony of it  – him being among perhaps the most hardworking of soldiers and not having anything to show for it. Except, maybe, for a trip to a military training planet and an exile planet. “Even if things don’t turn out how you’d think.”

He flips the shades around in his hands. Then looks outside.

The cornfields are becoming less dense. Buildings become less sparse. He can finally see houses dotting the distant street, albeit not so packed as the ones in the cul de sac where Zim’s base is, nor the rest of the city. There’s still more distance to cross before they get back home, but it looks like staying onboard was the right idea.

His thumbs flick the arms of his shades out.

He looks at Hal again.

Drama was fun, when it was something to watch on social media, or fan the flames of when she got bored. The situation with Niri was both complicated and simple enough to understand why the young girl might seek revenge on the pink Vortian she used to call a friend. Either way, all Hal knew was she missed what they’d had. Maybe Skoodge could understand to some degree, the enigma of an Irken- both friendly as well as a killer.

It was hard to imagine, even still. Between him and Zim, who had the bigger body count? Hal only had 12 years of chaos, the two of them had enough for hundreds of her lifetimes.

She cocked a curious brow at his answer, he’d just unwillingly unlocked a whole bunch of brand new questions from the meddling girl. He conquered a planet and then they sent him to Hobo-13? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? She only knew what she’d heard from others, it was a military training planet, lots of death canyons and crazy traps. It sounded like so much work. She’d never be a soldier if they paid her. Which evidently they did, depending on rank and height. Always with the stupid height. 

“So… what? They just… decided you didn’t conquer Blorch anymore because of the way you look?” she was less surprised than she should be, the Tallests weren’t exactly known for being reasonable, another reason they were blooping terrifying, “I don’t get it.” maybe she never would.

He didn’t seem too bent out of shape over it, in any case. Being on Earth felt better, that statement resonated with her in a way she did understand. For all it’s dirt, Earth was a clean slate, no Armadas, no access to the specialized planets of Weird Space, so remote it might as well be the relative corn fields of the galaxy; quiet, among it’s crowds of unsuspecting humans. 

“I still don’t know what the Tallests want with this place.” Hal admitted, “I guess we’ll find out.” she added, voice taking on a cynical tone as she watched a tractor mow down some more corn. 

Only the mention of her previous crimes brought the slightest of smirks to the girl’s face. Purple eyes taking a glint for the mischievous, Hal chuckled.

“You wearing a wire?” she asked, “Just kidding! Ha, where do I start? I’ve gotten into some stuff, I’ll tell you that much. Hijacking ships, helping rebels, making viruses to infect the fleet, you wouldn’t believe the stuff people come to the literal mafia for.” she shook her head, “Galactic anarchy, destruction of the Irken machine, liberation for the snacks.” Hal quoted, “That’s what my brothers say. But I dunno. I just think it’s fun. They’re the only family I have so…”    

Her entire rambling in light of Skoodge's answer doesn't earn her any meaningful response. He doesn't say anything that could open up any more questions, only shrugging mildly at her confusion. They did decide he didn't conquer Blorch. That is exactly what happened.

"No biggie." He wasn't planning on doing anything with the planet. Hell, he wasn't planning to make it off Blorch alive at all, so him being here now is a BIG plus in his book.

His hands stop tugging and his legs uncross. He follows her eyes to the tractor.

That is a lot of corn. Yeesh.

At least it makes decent chips.

He peels his eyes away from the window, only to have his hands soon return to his uniform, patting himself down.

Wire? "Where?" He's practically made of them. It'd be bad if any were sticking out!

Though, after seeing the playful glint in her eyes Skoodge gets the feeling that that's not what she's insinuating. He stops, putting his hands down on his knees.

Each word spoken causes his eyes to widen, more and more until they peek over his shades, and then, when that's not enough to exaggerate his surprise, he takes them off and folds them, then closes his eyes and pinches his fingers in the middle of his face. Hal keeps talking. The pinching eventually evolves into rubbing at his eyes. Then he drops his shades in his lap and rubs both hands against his face, sliding them and dragging his skin down. He opens his eyes and stares.

That is quite a lot of crimes, majorly targeted at the Irken Empire, to be just considered fun. "Good golly. Your... brothers?" He raises a brow for any hint of recognition of the word before he keeps going. "Brothers. Sound real, um." How does he say this. "... Ambitious."

Jeez. If he weren't such a lesser of an irken, he might be inclined to pull out a communication device and inform the nearest elite captain or commander or even the Tallest themselves of the enemy that's being harbored on Earth.

But, well. Skoodge is such a lesser of an irken. Also, he doesn't care enough to dedicated himself to dealing with that, nor the aftermath that would surely come.

"You really only have those?"

The only family she has is a family that could actively endanger her status as a free vortian.

That sure sounds.

Fun.

But, there are supposed to be more, aren't there?

Her parents are dead.

Skoodge knows that there's supposed to be some significance to that. Parents are important. Probably. Yes.

Hal said so herself, earlier, that it was a not great thing that they aren't around any longer.

The look on his face, not to mention the antennae threatening to escape from beneath his hat, told her Skoodge hadn’t been expecting her to ask about them. She’d heard rumors, sat in just off-screen as Zim called them. Finn once told her he knew the pair back when they were elites, she could only imagine how they’d ended up in a Vortian gang-member’s orbit; Finn was vague, but she knew it didn’t end well.  

Part of her wondered if they even remembered. If the name ‘Nima’ meant anything at all to them now. With so much to destroy, could they really hold a grudge from so long ago? Who was she kidding? They threw people out of airlocks for less than what she and her family had done.

Purple, evidently, was the more air-lock heavy handed of the two, Red was the public speaker, the clever one. However, they both hated things that weren’t theirs equally. Her curiosity about them stemmed from a genuine distress, a nightmare Hal had time and time again of facing them. Even Skoodge’s jokey comment about them punting her out an airlock sent a slight shiver down her spine, though she managed a sheepish grin in an attempt to mask it. 

Zim and Skoodge would get in trouble too if they knew they were harboring her. 

“I’m taller than you!” she defended with a playful nudge, “I bet I’ll be like, 5′2 and a half pretty soon. Growth spurts and all that.” where she stood, she was nowhere near it, but a girl could dream, not that height meant half as much to her as it did to an Irken. 

“There’s an election and stuff… there uh- was like, a whole parliament.” she tried to recall all the boring stuff she was taught about government, what little she paid attention too. There was one thing however, Hal did know,

“I was friend’s with a governor’s daughter.” she mused thoughtfully, “Niri wasn’t allowed to do like, anything that would make her family look bad, which I guess is most things I do every day.” Hal shrugged, 

“We had a falling out.” stated simply and mildly for the blowout it really was, she missed Niri, in spite of everything, “Drama…” she sighed, “Hmmmm questions for you. Oh! Were you like, on TV and stuff when you conquered Blorch?”  

"Drama's always fun." Unless it's related to you. Then it sort of stops being as much fun.

It's just one of those things you like being able to see at a distance. Like a rabid animal. Or roadkill. Or a robbery. You wouldn't want to be directly next to or affiliated with any of those things.

Curious, though, that Hal was actually friends with someone of political importance, considering her history. Or at least the bits of it that Skoodge has gathered, from half-heard conversations or spoken directly from her to him. He wonders what this 'Niri' kid was like. Or what Hal herself was like, when she had friends. Ones that almost sound like they were her age.

Maybe she was a bit less nosey, back then. Probably not, but it's a fun idea to mess around with.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost fails to hear Hal. He cringes, though, at her question as she asks it. “If I was, I’m definitely not anymore.” To elaborate, he points a finger at his face. “I’m not exactly the most photogenic irken.”

His shoulders shrug, rolling. Something pops.

"It's fine. They found someone taller and prettier to be Skoodge, I got, I dunno... Hobo-thirteen? Earth?" He says, without much conviction. After he'd just finished complaining about the things he'd disliked about Earth, it's doubtful he actually likes the planet at all. Certainly not enough to defend any sort of stance on his being stuck on it being better than his old job was.

"... Helping out here feels a lot better than my own assignments ever did."

The invader is no longer looking at Hal, but rather, at his feet. He fiddles with the edge of his uniform, claws tracing invisible seams. He seems to be debating something with himself, a silent war waging in his head, eyes squinting and focused from behind his shades.

Aw, she liked the pug next door, and his wet, black eyes like reflective marbles. Clearly he was just trying to say ‘hi’. Only Hal could appreciate the majesty and beauty of an ugly Earth dog. Not even in all the creature stores in all of Weird Space could someone find an animal so unfit for survival- Hal loved it. Humans had meddled with entire gene pools just for a snuggly little smoosh face! A cause she could get behind.

Again, she found herself wondering about Irken nature, if they even could enjoy some part of a world that was not wholly theirs, rather than simply enjoying it’s spoils once it was conquered. Skoodge, while he seemed to have trouble at first, did answer, and it wasn’t with the caveat that he wanted to destroy humanity either. For that matter, did he? If not well, neither did she. 

The train hit another bump, and Skoodge managed to get through it without falling or stumbling. She’d never been to Irk, only seen it on TV back when she was on her home-planet. She remembered pink skies and rounded architecture. Irk was all functionality, as though their own planet was a temporary stepping stone compared to the ones they ruled.

“You gotta find the right snacks, and they’re almost as good as home.” Hal pointed out, “Like Takis!” food where they were from was ultra dense and caloric, Earth food might as well all be salad by comparison, “And you gotta know when to improvise! Like when I put pizza rolls on pizza.” she explained, hoping she was blowing Skoodge’s mind with snack knowledge right about now. 

She giggled at his final answer,

“Your favorite thing about Earth is the humans? Don’t tell Zim.” Hal was pretty sure that was his least favorite thing about Earth, perhaps that and barbeque sauce… maybe also the bees, “Nah, I like humans too. They’re…” she struggled to think of the word, “-I dunno, simple. Like things are easier here.”

Hal paused for a moment, taking in more scenery in the followed silence. Perhaps it was easier for her to say, she was a passer-through, an outsider, one foot out the door. As soon as the armada arrived, she wasn’t going to stick around, that was for sure. 

“That’s easy. It’s Real Housewives of Brunch! Those ladies sure are bored and rich.” it was an acquired taste, but even Gir could appreciate the simple joys of the ‘screaming lady show’. Hal tapped her chin as she attempted to think of a question,

“Oh! What are the Tallests like? I mean, like, in person?”

His mind is absolutely more than blown, quietly thinking that’s two times the pizza. He would love to try that, some time. Some pizza meats are fake enough for him to get away with eating them. He tried hawaiian pizza once, and the ham only hurt a little!

He listens to her response to him with rapt attention, not having any idea why he shouldn’t tell Zim. Humans are smelly, sure, but they’re also dumb. And not an active threat every waking moment of every second of every day trying to murdalize you while your back is turned. Hopefully. So, not all that bad, all things considered. He also has no idea what a housewife brunch is, voicing that thought when Hal finishes.

Now there’s corn fields outside. Wretched. Vile.

The hat atop Skoodge’s head moves every time the antennae underneath try to extend.

Unable to express himself with his antennae, he raises a brow at Hal. Really? The Tallest? Plural? Sure, they’re the almighty leaders of the entire Irken Empire, and sure, they’re... pretty great, and sure, they’d kill you without a moment’s hesitation given the opportunity, multiple times –

Actually, that’s more than enough reason to be asking about them.

“They’re tall!” He states, simple and obvious. “Not too accepting if you don’t at least reach around their waists.” He holds his hand above his head, palm parallel, reaching around Hal’s height. “They’d punt you outta’va an airlock if they saw you.” For more reason than being a vortian. He’s almost certain they’d made a sport out of it, with how many drones and smallers they’ve thrown out.

“Does –” he begins, but corrects himself.

Hal chuckled, the thought of Skoodge with a beard being an absurd one, although not as absurd as some of the disguises she’d seen Zim had locked away. Her favorite was the inflatable scientist. She’d used that one as a pillow before while passing out in the lab. 

Little did Skoodge know, all desolate Earth areas eventually lead to weird sad beard cults, she’d watched enough Earth crime shows to know that. Actually, a lot of what it seemed Hal knew for sure about Earth came from TV. Weird Space had nothing on Earth Broadcasts. Where else could she watch ‘Real Housewives of Brunch’? 

“If we get some service, maybe they can pick us up.” at this rate, that wouldn’t be until nightfall at the earliest. They’d need the cover of night if Zim used the Voot anyway. The girl was already imagining all the caps-locked texts she was missing from her deranged boss. Oh well.

She watched Skoodge somehow stumble once again as the train hit another bump in the track. How did this guy kill all those giant rats again? At least it was something to watch on this ride to nowhere. Idly, she looked on as a couple horses ran past a farmhouse; such weird, long bodies they had, so fast too. Hal had only ever seen them on TV before now. Earth’s nature was so sprawling, nothing like living in the city back on Vort. She’d be lucky if she saw anything resembling life that wasn’t the stray Siphods she fed around her old apartment building.

They probably tore it down and built a smoothie place there or something. If the Tallests decree it… 

“On Earth? It’s gotta be pugs!” she answered, “You’ve seen them before, right? They’re the ones with the smooshed up faces and tongues that don’t fit in their mouths.” she especially liked scrunching up their neck wrinkles when she pet them. So cute. 

“See, humans took all their dangerous dogs, and bred them until they were cute and useless! It’s a great idea when you think about it.” and Hal clearly had… not done much thinking about it at all, actually, cool as as the practice sounded, “Question for you. What’s your favorite thing about Earth?” 

“I dunno, that pug next door's always giving me this... look...” If looks could kill, Skoodge would be torn to bits by that pug. That pug, and its weird, gross teeth... with gunk... he shudders at the thought of it. Not cute. There are other, fluffier critters that are way superior.

Skoodge too looks outside the window, eyes focused on the fast-moving scenery.

Favorite thing?

Usually, he's in the city, the cul-de-sac, with lots of people and crowded buildings. It's familiar, similar to Irk's architecture in the way it seems to bend and cave in on you, closing around on all sides. This, in contrast, is wide and vast. Empty. It's odd to look at. Even Blorch had nests scattered about, built from the ground up in something almost resembling a community. And if it didn't, well... Skoodge did his best to avoid the empty areas more than he tried to avoid the rats themselves.

He hums, mouth pressed thin, and stops looking outside.

"I dunno!" There's not much that comes to mind, for things to like about Earth. "The snacks aren't too great and the games kinda stink." DDR doesn't hold a candle to the dancing games they've got in space. And Skoodge doesn't even like those games, normally, but Earth has somehow managed to make him dislike them even more. And don't even get him started on the water.

... Although.

There are a few things keeping him here.

"... I guess I like the... residents?" Very neighborly. No one's tried to kill him yet, he's pretty sure. Except maybe for that big headed kid thing.

His reassurance was… reassuring, if nothing else. At the same time, she was well-aware Irkens weren’t exactly who Hal should be seeking any kind of validation from. In fact, he sounded genuinely distressed she’d thought he hated her to begin with. Hal’s judgement was still reserved as to whether or not that was one they could feel. Did that mean he didn’t even hate all the rat people he’d killed? The answer was probably more complicated than she wanted it to be.

Nosy. Right. Despite the lack of one on her face, it was a common complaint. Her business was Zim’s business now, right? And Skoodge came with that… or something. Sure, she’d go with that as a good excuse for the interrogation she’d subjected him to; all the questions he’d left unanswered.

She really did want to know what he was running from. Maybe he’d tell her if she had a little more patience. Or maybe he didn’t know either.

Hal was only somewhat aware of her faults, echos of truth mixed in with the chorus of lectures she’d heard all her life; blended together into one, continuous speech that seemed to go on forever. She wasn’t sure what was truth and what was bitterness, or if there was any reason to know when all she wanted to do was break rules in the first place.

“I didn’t know if you were gonna be weird about it! I don’t know!” she retorted, happy, in spite of everything. An ally at the base sounded nice, maybe someone who understood how often exhausting it was to be team Zim, half the time compelling as the pieces started fitting together bit by bit. Something was always missing. Something vital she couldn’t quite place.

Either way. This insane, Irken shipwreck was nowhere near over, it had barely even begun.

“Yeah, guess I was a little in your face. Didn’t mean to go full Hal on you, next time it should be more like half.” she made a slicing gesture with her hand, “Maybe a third.” she tapped her chin thoughtfully,

“I don’t think there’s any arcades where we’re going.” Hal lamented as she again gazed out the window, no more cows now, just rows and rows of corn, “I bet there’s some sad beard cult though.”

“Mmm... sad beard cult...” Skoodge ponders on it, forefinger and thumb rubbing his chin. “Hey, how fast do you think I can grow a beard?” He snickers, hands on his cheeks, briefly considering if he could actually pull one off. One more white and scraggly, maybe. “My monies are on a week.” Not that he’s ever grown a beard. Nor is he even physically capable. A shame, that the trademark of sad old man looks of Earth with forever elude him. Unless he goes out of his way to buy a fake one from a costume store. How far away is Halloween, again? “You think we’re gonna be out here long enough to find out?”

Another small bump hits the train. Skoodge stumbles in place, throwing his arms out at his sides to keep himself balanced, looking a lot like a silly tightrope walker. Or a clown. Or both.

Once he’s assured himself that there aren’t going to be any more major bumps, he decides it's about time he stopped standing on a moving train like an idiot, and jumps into the spot beside Hal, scooting slightly to the side as to leave a comfortable gap between the two.

He crosses his legs, hands clasped and placed squarely in his lap, thumbs twiddling.

He whistles. One of his legs starts bouncing.

Then, he clears his throat, looking anywhere but her.

“Full Hal’s not... bad." He starts, unconvincingly. "Probably not as bad as full ‘Skoodge’,” his leg stops bouncing as he finishes off with a whispered, “whatever that is.”

His hands part, only to be immediately clapped together again, and he finally faces Hal. “You just gotta maybe figure out what questions to start off with! Like...” he tips his head, cupping his cheek. A thoughtful hum passes through his throat.

He jumps up in his spot, eyes opening wide enough to be seen from under his shades. A very, very lazy disguise.

...and for the record, most Vortians loved music. Although Hal’s taste was exciting and bombastic and blasted much, much too loudly. So much so she couldn’t hear the protests of those sharing a dwelling with her. Irken indulgences were different, that or Zim was just weird. Here she had another baseline on what the average Irken was like and she found herself more curious than ever.

Sometimes it really had to suck... being Irken.

Hal watched the scene of Skoodge hurrying the nuns away with great amusement, clawed hand clasped over her mouth as she giggled. She’d been waiting for someone to tell them off. The only reason it wasn’t her was because she didn’t have the energy. Skoodge... however.

She wondered if he planned on answering at all. Truth be told she wasn’t sure if she’d entirely expected him too. The thought alone was probably enough to short-circuit any Pak worth it’s salt. Irkens didn’t hate, they were ambitious. It wasn’t until she met Zim she began to question all she’d been lead to know about them in the first place. And now, him too.

“I guess it doesn’t matter.” purple eyes spared a somewhat solemn glance out the window, “Is that what we think? Or is it the truth? I don’t know. I thought I did... but-” she trailed off, thoughts not quite catching up with her ability to speak them.

“We’re both trying to help Zim or whatever.” for now, anyway, “I think we should get along... for  the mission.” she stated flatly, “And uh... you can still hate me if you want... secretly.”

She was used to it.

There’s something very wrong, with her voice. Her tone. Devoid of all that exuberance Skoodge has come to associate with it. She’s always got some kick, whether that kick is sass or childlike joy, he’s used to there being something to listen for, when she’s speaking.

Right now, he doesn’t hear much of anything.

And it’s... very...

Worrying.

His free hand goes up to wave in front of him, his entire body moving into action to, what? Reassure her? Is that what that is? “Woah! I didn’t say I did hate you!” In Skoodge’s opinion, Hal hasn’t done anything big enough to warrant that. Yes, maybe, he’s been annoyed by her a few times, maybe she played something too loud, was a bit demanding... but, the same could be said for Zim, or Gir, or really any of the base’s occupants.

“I don’t really think I hate anyone? I probably should, but – I mean, gosh.” He fixes his hat, stuffing the broom back into his PAK. Why he has it there, on hand, is anyone’s guess. A mop would be more suiting, considering the amount of times Gir pukes, and the amount of times the task of cleaning it falls on Skoodge.

“Way to dump that on me. I think if I’ve hated anyone ever they’re way dead, now. I can’t even remember if I really have hated anyone? Maybe? Nono, definitely not you, you’re just nosey, that’s not something, like, hate-worthy, is it? Should it? What if –” he prattles on, voice getting smaller and smaller until he realizes he’s gone off track. His hands tug at the bottom of his uniform, straightening it out, and then, his back straightens with it.

“I don’t hate you. I just think you need to mind your own business.”

Blunt, but, Skoodge has never been too good at softening a blow. At least telling her that her random spur-of-the-moment interrogations aren’t welcome is better than saying something like, he hates smeets and never wants to see her smeet face ever again. That’s probably somewhere along the lines of what he should be saying right now, isn’t it? “I mean, what’s the point of asking people a buncha questions? I get not trusting me,” if that’s what all this has been, “but why’d you have to be so... pushy? About it? I might’ve told you something if you were maybe a little more, polite?” He shrugs

 He’s not... too keen, on the idea of divulging all of his deepest darkest secrets to her, especially not yet, or ever, if he can help it... but she does seem genuine about wanting to not be at each other’s throats.

Truth be told, it’s been starting to wear Skoodge out, too.

Skoodge sits, leaned forward, cheek pressed into his fist propped up by the elbow on his knee, looking absolutely bored out of his mind. His PAK? Both. He's bored out of both.

Sat to Hal's left, fitted in a, frankly, terrible disguise. Worse than Zim's, even, with shades in place of contacts and a brimmed hat in place of a wig. In all honesty, the irken couldn't care less about how unconvincing he looks.

Though... if he'd known how long this excursion was going to be dragged out for, he might have dressed for the occasion, and actually put some effort in to make himself look more like a human.

A harsher bump hits the moving metro, causing Skoodge's fist to slip out from under his head. He almost falls forward, but manages to stop in time. After righting himself, he decides to just sit straight up, both his hands limp at his side. Empty, mind you. Spare of any success. Not a single plastic grocery bag in sight.

Gosh, this blows.

And by Zog, the nuns. "Eurgh..." He can't wait for them to drop off at one of the next stops. If it doesn't happen some time soon, he's going to make his own stop and crash through the window behind him.

"You said it. I wanna hide in the cushions so long I turn into one." With the various goos and gunk, wedged, buried along all crevices of the fiery orange couch in Zim's base, melding into the furniture isn't too far-fetched of a thought.

One nun gives him a startled look, at that. Her mouth opens, likely to begin a tirade about pillows and the unholiness of them, or something, Skoodge never bothered to learn about any of the Earth religions, but he stops her by holding a finger out to shush her.

“You’re asking me?” he wasn’t joking either, from what she could tell, “Yeah, it’s bad, most people would say so I guess.” she reached into his bag of chips and took a handful. Sad, awkward things were always best revisited while eating. 

“People are all, ‘Where’s your parents?’ and ‘Oh no I’m so sorry’ and ‘Stop feeding all the stray siphads, Halinor.’” 

Okay, so maybe that last one had nothing to do with being an orphan, still was annoying though. If he wanted proof, she still had that metal box of her mom’s ashes somewhere. For whatever reason she took it with her wherever she ended up living, then would promptly find a place to hide it and never touch it again until the next time she had to leave. 

“I’m a free spirit! Y’know? I don’t need parents to like, raise me, or put me in time out or whatever they do.” she spoke with a mouthful of chips, there was probably more to parenting than that but those were the basics or something. 

She might not know much about it, but she had a feeling the way her parents had done it wasn’t exactly correct… the whole ‘dying’ thing aside. Unconsciously, she used to compare the way she lived to the way Niri lived, even with loving parents and a big house and all that monies, her life was far from perfect. Maybe it didn’t really matter either way.  

“Hey, who says I haven’t?” she grinned, “I’m smarter than I look! Wait- that’s like saying I don’t look smart… actually nevermind.”

Skoodge goes to take another chip, then, releases a little indignant gasp and openly gapes at the complete nonchalance of the vortian as she proceeds to commit the worst crime known to the Irken Empire. Snack thievery.

Really? Right in front of him? Out of his hands? In front of his face? Looking at her? Directly? Out of his bag? His?

“... Wow.”

He looks at her with narrowed eyes, watching as that handful gets shoved into her still-talking facehole, unsure whether he should keep standing around with that stupid offended look or kill her. She seems to talk about parents in nearly the same way Skoodge thinks about parents. That is, to say, she doesn’t sound like she has any clue what she’s talking about.

Time-out? Do parents really do that? Skoodge thought it was like. A movie thing. Like how dogs always die in movies. Those don’t die. He knows that for a fact! He saw that weird... chihuahua thing... get run over just the other day. It’s still there. Not dead.

Madness.

“No, no, I think you were onto something with the not looking smart thing.” He waves his hand in front of himself, while his other crumples his now empty bag. “You should keep going.” Big talk, coming from the guy who both doesn’t look smart and also isn’t smart.

Skoodge peels himself away from his spot on the kitchen, and walks around Hal to reach the sink. The plastic bag is tossed into the disposal, shredded apart and thrown out to some other unknown part of the base, courtesy of the computer. Skoodge could honestly have just thrown it down the garbage-elevator-chute, maybe even have it hit Zim on the head, wherever he is down in the basement, but... well, he doesn’t think the other irken would appreciate that.

Huh. She’d made him mad. Hal only by the skin of her razor sharp teeth resisted the urge to tell him how silly he looked when angry. Not the right time, probably. She leaned against the counter casually as he unloaded on her. Testy little guy, wasn’t he? So maybe her phrasing had been a bit on the… rude side. She wasn’t sure how she was expecting him to react, actually. Hal’s mind was never quiet, ideas poured in and out constantly, only some good. Maybe it was uncouth of her to pry so much, and maybe that was a word she kept out of her vocabulary because it was too long and fancy and she’d rather know the answers to things.    

Knowledgeable… smart. She was all those things, wasn’t she? Oh wait… he was being sarcastic. Hal frowned. She didn’t belong here anymore than he did. And yet… his insistence on not telling her why he wasn’t still with the armada just made her want to know even more. Maybe she could bother Skoodge’s secrets out of Zim… if he knew, anyway. He was mostly mad about his ‘friend’ conquering Blorch before he could defeat a single child on his assigned planet. 

She couldn’t even begin to explain to anyone else what her life had become, a self-serving exile with not one, but two invaders. If only her brothers could see her now… on second thought, this was the last thing she wanted them to see.

Hal was surprised, but not bothered by his question. A kid out in the universe alone, did raise some questions. She just didn’t expect an Irken to be the one to ask them. They weren’t born so much as hatched, encoded, and passed along to spread terror throughout space. They were orphans in their own right, she supposed. That word still felt weird to apply to herself, ‘orphaned’; born, semi-raised, and somewhere down the line, tossed to the bottom of the universe’s pit with all the other inconvenient children.

“They’re all dead.” she answered flatly, weight shifting from one, pointed foot to the other, “Ma got sick, Dad got the-” she raised a pointed finger and gestured across her neck, as though her throat was being sliced, 

“My brothers are my only family but I kinda don’t know where they are right now. They’re on the run too.” she was certain she’d see them again when they came out of hiding… whenever that was, “Besides! Zim won’t rat me out, I’m helping him.” Hal insisted, “This is all just a temporary thing, y’know?”

Dead?

It seems all of his anger has dissipated, with the girl’s explanation. At least, none of it is visible any longer.

“Oh.” He. Was not expecting a response like that. And certainly, not one so blunt. Even her talk about her supposed brothers does nothing to change his focus.

“Dead. That’s. Huh.” Even mentioning Zim doesn’t manage to derail his thoughts much. Surprising. “That’s. Bad, right?” He seems more confused and awkward than genuinely disturbed, by this information. Probably, he’s thinking something along the lines of ‘just get some new ones’. And then thinking that oh right, it’s not that simple.

Fleshy birthed creatures, always so complicated with their familial units and blood connections. Just shut up and become attached to your snacks already. Those listen nice. And, also, don’t tell you to shut up when you cry.

At least not loudly.

He munches on a chip. Then shakes his head. Then munches another.

So maybe she didn’t have that many friends, but she was working on it! A few girls from school almost didn’t avoid her completely the other day. That in of itself was a good start. She gave him an odd look as he muttered a bewildered, ‘…huh.’. Did he also not know it wasn’t marked for conquest? Earth must have been very, very secret if they were hiding it’s existence even from other Invaders. The more she thought about it, the less it made sense… but why would Zim lie? He was encoded as an Invader… wasn’t he?

…maybe one of these days he’d let her close enough to his stupid Pak to check. Until then, she could only assume. 

“I don’t even know what you guys want with this place! There’s so much water…” 

It covered the majority of the planet, in fact, she knew that both from looking at it from space, and from half paying attention in class between drawing little anime eyes in the margins of her notebook. 

Wait, if Zim and Skoodge were both Invaders, didn’t that mean they both did the Great Assigning together? She probably should have been watching that broadcast with baited breath like the rest of the galaxy. Instead she was at some heist somewhere. Figures. Most Vortians didn’t think it applied to them anyway.  

“I mean I’ve never seen an Invader do invading before.” and what weirdness it entailed, “I’m not sure if he’s doing it exactly right but-” Hal shrugged, “-it beats space prison.” 

She was sure this was probably an experience some races would covet, to see how an invader does things, to be able to better analyze that new worker at their office or that especially friendly pedestrian for any signs of the monstrous Irken that may lay beneath. With each new planet conquered, a proper paranoia grew in Weird Space.

And then there was Earth, happy and free… maybe just for now. Maybe it was better to know nothing about the armada at all when they finally came. 

“Skoodge…” she hoped she got his name right, “Why are you here really? I’m sure you’re a really great superfriend and all but, come on.” she tilted her head, “We both know you should be with the fleet.” 

“Water...” is. A downside. Admittedly. A pretty big one, at that. Even if you do your damnedest to avoid the large bodies of it, if you do everything right, and don’t live near it, don’t look at it, don’t touch it... it starts falling out of the sky! And there’s nothing you can do to stop it! “So, so much water...” he mutters to himself, antennae pinned back and eyes wide in horror.

Skoodge has seen Zim’s solution. Apply a bit of paste, and be on your way. Tried it, too, once, earlier in his time on the planet. Absolutely abhorrent. Skoodge is never applying that... icky... stick-stuff to his precious hideously grotesque body ever again.

“Definitely.” He nods sagely at her words about space prison. Not that he’s personally had any experience in one, no. Not Moo-Ping 10, nor any other ‘Ping’ or ‘Moo’. Just, he’s never heard good things. He’s heard enough not-good things to never want to experience one, ever.

His antennae straighten slightly, full attention grabbed by the use of his name. Ah. Hearing it makes him feel a bit bad – after all, he hasn’t bothered to remember hers, yet.

Hmm... no, wait... nah. He doesn’t feel all that bad, actually.

Not until she keeps going. Until everything she says, after his name.

His mouth curls.

Is that a... sneer? No... that’s not it. The corners of his lips are pulling down.

It’s most certainly some sort of contempt, that he has, now, plastered on his face. Distain, directed towards an object or person of ridicule. Something more expected to be seen on an irken than, say, every other expression he’s had up until now.

“... Right.” He tilts his head to one side, eyes lidded and brows set low. “We ‘both’ do.” His hands come up in finger quotations. An Earth gesture that ends up looking a bit silly on his three-fingered hands. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m sure you’d know loads about where I should be and what I should be doing.” He clasps his hands together, resting his cheek into them, and bats non-existent eyelashes. “See, ‘cause, you’re so – knowledgeable, and smart, and all that.” He drops the mocking face and tone quick, settling for a scoff that sounds more like someone clearing the phlegm out of their throat, and a shake of his head.

With a turn, he’s faced again to the pantry. His hands rest on the handles, doors shaking from the snacks behind, threatening to fall out the moment anything is moved out of place. “I’m sure you belong here more than I do, instead of – eh. I dunno.”

It only takes one swift jerk of his arms for him to open the pantry, then one more to pull something out, fast enough for him to slam it shut again with a harsh hit from his hip. It rattles, along with the contents inside. Thankfully, nothing falls to the floor, this time. Slowly, he stops leaning against it removing his weight from the cabinet’s doors. It doesn’t open. All the pantry does is shake, for a brief moment. Then it stops. Like a shuddering sigh.