Truthseeking

Fight or Flight

Zim sat, awake and alone on the side of the couch.

Dib had only lasted so long with the awkward silence after their argument, opting instead to slump back into his room.

So it had just been him and his thoughts since.

It was the early morning, when the stars were only just beginning to feather from the brightening sky.

Today was the expected arrival of the armada.

He didn't quite know what to think of it, even though he'd internally known the date, it still felt unreal.

Unease shuddered through his figure like a shadow looming across once warm land, and he couldn't help the spikes of pure, cold fear that followed.

What was he even going to do?

After he enslaved earth with the empire, what then? What would happen to him?

It was a point Dib had brought up in an earlier argument, but this was the first time he truly considered it.

Would he be re-encoded again? As a real Invader? Or would they just… Send him on another fake mission?

Or back to food courtia?
He shuddered at the thought. But technically, he'd never finished his sentence.

He'd ran away to see the great assigning. And further running when he'd been recaptured.

So they could… but they wouldn't, not when he'd been included in the enslavement of a species. Right?

He shook his head.

If they did, he'd just… run, again. He'd make the Tallest realise that he's not some food drone.

And if that doesn't work out… he'd figure something else out. Not the time to plan for improbable futures.

Zim sighed, stretching off the couch.

He should be preparing right now, packing his base up, readying the voot, perhaps even submitting a message back to the Tallest for the events that had occurred the night before.

He peeked a claw through the curtain, looking out at the dotted sky before him.

In a few hours, he would be fleeing with the Armada, rewarded with a planet's worth of slaves.

But for now, he would stay in the darkness of Dibs base, watching, waiting.

For now, he would allow himself a moment of respite.

•⋇⋆✦⋆⋇•　

It was only when the chirps of animals began to fill the air did Zim tear his eyes away from the glass.

The sky was now an assortment of blueing warm yellows and passionate reds, the stars seeming like nothing but a memory.

He'd watched the sun rise, silently dreading the moment he'd have to leave.

And much to his desire, that time happened to be now.

It wouldn't be more than an hour before the empire arrived, and Zim had to admit he'd been dazing for far too long.

Stretching as he stood, he crept towards the wig that lay discarded on the carpeted floor.

Complete with the eye contacts he'd kept in his PAK, Zim took one last look at his reflection on the television.

His burns were little more than a stain on his skin, only visible if you knew where to look. His wig was remarkably messy compared to how it'd been when he'd first got it, and his contacts didn't seem to hide the beginning of eye bags.