#also note zim's expression for a split second at the end

[irkendogma]

something fucked up about this gif i think

[ckret2]

Request Denied, Request Denied

Summary: Red and Purple are the most wildly successful Tallest the Irken Empire has had in ages. This, despite the fact that the Empire is starving, dying, and decaying around them. Series: Invader Zim Word count: 2700 Notes: I discovered that I wrote this eleven years ago and I don’t even remember writing it?? But it only needed like a few paragraphs to have a proper conclusion, so I decided to type it up and wrap up the ending. also u can tell this was written by a 16-year-old who was not quite exactly sure what world leaders do all day but assumed that it probably mainly consisted of a lot of paperwork. (For those of y’all waiting for my long-promised ISS updates—don’t take this as 100% congruent with ISS verse; I picture the ISS version of the Irken Empire to be slightly less crapsacktacular and significantly better at, like, governing itself.)

Under the rule of Almighty Tallest Red and Purple, the Irken Empire was the strongest it had ever been. The sheer size of the empire said enough about their success; and despite the fact that resistance, rebellions, and revolts against the Irkens were higher than they had ever been before, in proportion to the number of citizens under their rule, the relative percentage of the population that was fighting against its Empire had actually decreased. Sullen slaves and unconquered races outside the empire could never really understand what it was about these two particular Tallest that made them, bumbling as they were, so successful. But the answer, really, could be summed up with a simple Earthen expression:

Two heads are better than one.

In fact, the Tallest would only benefit from having quite a few more heads. Not, of course, that they'd get them.

The particular room they were standing before now seemed utterly inconspicuous—it was designed that way. There was no need for other Irkens on the Massive to know when they were passing the second most important room in the Empire, surpassed only by the vast, vault-like main chamber of the Primary Snack Warehouse on Irk itself.

The room was labeled "Foreign Visitor Toilets," and since foreigners were never allowed on the Massive, the room was never disturbed. Despite its label, it had a huge, imposing doorframe and a powerful lock; no one seemed to question this, but then the room was on a rarely-used corridor. The official name of the room was Office of the Tallest.

Red called it "a glimpse of hell."

Purple called it "reasonable justification for suicide."

And neither wanted to open the door.

"I opened it last time," Purple said.

"No you didn't, I did," Red said. "Because you said you'd done it the last time before that, too."

"Nuh-uh, I sad that the time BEFORE last time!"

"You're such a liar."

"Am not!"

"Yeah, you are."

Purple made a disgusted noise. His antennae twitched in agitation, the shafts almost vibrating. "Can't we just... get someone else to open it, and then throw 'em out the airlock?"

"No, what if someone else finds them before their head explodes from lack of air? Then they know where our office is. And can steal government secrets or something." Red wiggled his fingers, illustrating the secrets. Though he did like the idea. It was only the risk of groups like the Resisty getting their slimy little alien hands on someone who'd seen inside this room that kept him from agreeing.

Purple put his hands on his hips (which actually had taken him more practice than you'd think to master, balancing his armored guantlets on the hover belt at just the right angle to let his fingers wrap around it), but his eyes were no longer narrowed in annoyance—as they'd been for the past hour, in anticipation of this trial. Instead, they were half lidded, thoughtfully, as he regarded the door. "... What'll you give me to open the door?"

"Um..." Red reached over his shoulder into his Pak, stretching his spindly fingers to feel what he had with him. "I've got... four candy bars, some popcorn, a bag of cheese puffs, some chips..."

"What flavor?" Purple asked.

Red pulled out the bag to check. "Uh... sour fruit?"

"Sour fr— since when do they make chips out of sour fruit?"

"I'unno. That's just the flavor." Red shrugged.

Purple grabbed the bag to inspect it. "Oooh. That's NEW." As a species that survived entirely on snacks, they had to be creative to keep their diet from becoming monotonous. It is a terrible thing to grow tired of eating chips.

"Fine." Purple put the bag in his own Pak and said, "What else you got?"

What, that wasn't enough? Red thought for a moment, and then sighed. He did have something else. "Well... you... DO remember our last trip to Sintillia, don't you?"

Purple's antennae stood straight up. "Yeees?"

Sintillia was the one world that had never been on the list for conquest in either of the Operations: Impending Doom, with good reason.

The inhabitants were small, unthreatening creatures that looked like furry puffballs with hard blue gem-like eyes. Some races valued their eyes as jewelry.

That had nothing to do with the Irkens' reasons for not conquering them. They didn't like jewelry and had no sympathy for puffballs.

The reason Sintillia was protected was because of its farms. Specifically, its vast plantations, which produced a particular sugar crop that tasted sweeter than any the Irkens had ever found before and that, as far as the Irkens could tell, were unable to grow on other planets. And oh, had they TRIED to grow it on other planets. Big surprise, it turned out the Sintillates had been selectively breeding their crops to need their home planet's conditions in order to thrive. The Sintillates were willing to trade with Irk—for a steep price—but said that if they ever got so much as a hint that the Irkens were looking at their planet for conquest, they would raze their own plantations to the ground.

"Yeah... I might have a few pieces of Sintillate fudge left somewhere in my room." Red had been saving them for a special occasion, like the completion of OID-2. Or the unconditional, sudden surrender of the Sintillates, leaving the Irkens with the largest chocolate surplus they'd ever enjoyed.

"Done!" Purple tapped in the access code to the office door, and Red quickly hovered out of the way before it opened.

"Hey," Purple said, as the door started to slide open, "that wasn't so hard." Red was grateful for his ignorance. He might've struck a harder bargain if he'd thought about what was waiting behind the door.

As the door slid all the way open, the relieved smile was quickly wiped off Purple's face, to be replaced by sheer horror. For a brief, terrifying moment, a trembling wall of paper hung suspended in the doorway, before tumbling down on Purple. Red winced. All he could see was one flailing arm underneath the endless paper. Had it really been that long since they'd been in the office?

A muffled scream emanated from under the papers. Red floated over and kicked the top of Purple's gauntlet. "Shut up or I won't dig you out," Red said. "We're trying to do GOVERNMENT things, here. We can't let anyone hear us."

Purple slowly quieted down, and—after a furtive look both ways to ensure the coast was still clear—Red deactivated his hover belt so he could kneel on the ground and scoop the papers back into the room from whence they came. Man, he didn't even recognize some of these languages. Red picked up a paper, then turned a paper-upside down; the language seemed to consist of squares of various sizes. What kind of species wrote like that?? Some sort of race of blockheads?

Heh. Blockheads.

He hoped Purple would recognize it. As Tallest, they had to be able to understand any race under Irken command—so they'd split up the duty of downloading the languages. That left them with about seven hundred each.

A muffled whine drifted up from under the paper pile. "Are you still digging?"

"Yeah, of course I am!" Red threw the paper back in the room and resumed shoving papers until he saw an antenna, then the other, and finally Purple's head was exposed.

Purple looked up at Red plaintively. "Can you pull me out yet?"

Red glanced warily at the mountain of paper on Purple's back. "... Lemme try."

After ten minutes, several strained muscles, and many yelps of pain, Red managed to pull Purple out. The hall was still clear; thank goodness. Otherwise they'd be answering quite a few awkward questions. (Still, though. Some top security, for the Massive of all places.)

"You broke my arm," wailed Purple, cradling the thin limb by which Red had pulled him free, which was definitely not broken.

"Oh, calm down and help me move these," Red muttered. He leaned his shoulder against the pile of paperwork like it was a particularly lumpy piece of furniture and started shoving.

"But my arm!"

"It's not broken. Come on. Do you want to complain about you arm or contribute to the stability and growth of the Irken Empire?"

"I wanna complain about my—"

"What kind of Tallest ARE you?! Huh? You and your arm."

Miffed, Purple stuck his tongue out at Red, but nevertheless started pushing the papers as well. They managed to get the mass of it back inside, and, after scooping up and tossing in the stray paper left outside, they turned their hover belts back on to help them climb over the papers into the room. The door finally slid shut, trapping them inside.

With their paperwork.

Although the reign of Red and Purple was considered by many to be a golden age for the Irken Empire, the truth was conditions for the vast majority of the empire were abysmal. Over half the Irken population suffered in deep poverty. A further twenty-five percent was on the borderline of slipping under, and losing ground. The billions upon billions of non-Irken lifeforms being assimilated into the empire by the day were even worse off. They lived in slave-factories, vast multi-species ghettoes, or devastated worlds with rapidly dwindling populations. It wasn't because the Irkens were inherently cruel—well, they WERE inherently cruel, but that was only a secondary contributing factor. The primary issue was simply that the empire was too massive to be efficiently cared for by a bureaucracy that, like a spider web, eventually converged on a single infinitesimally small point.

Or two points, as the case may be.

And no matter how tall the Tallest were—in comparison with the empire that they were charged to rule, they were indeed very, very small.

Red and Purple gave the paperwork a helpless look, shared the helpless look with each other, and got to work. They were stuck until they finished at least enough to reach the doorpad that would let them open the exit. Best estimate, it would be a labor of at least seven hours. Purple bent down—with pained groans, still sore from being buried under the avalanche earlier—grabbed the first paper with a language he understood, and started reading. Red turned off his belt, took a seat on the papers, and grabbed another.

A request from the Invader on the Planet of Open-Minded Supermodels. He wanted whipped cream. Red pulled a stamp out of his Pak, propped the paper against one thigh, and smacked the stamp down. "REQUEST DENIED – RED". The empire didn't have the resources to fulfill the stupid request of some lazy Invader that would rather spend his time snacking than conquering. He rolled up the paper, wiggled it at Purple, and Purple grabbed it and stuck it in a chute near the ceiling—over the place where they SHOULD have had a shared desk, somewhere, buried—and it was sucked away to be taken care of. Since it was a denial, odds were against the Invader ever finding out his request had been seen, much less rejected. The Massive's messengers had no time for such courtesies.

Red had wasted thirty seconds on a useless request.

"Hey Red," Purple said, studying a paper with a frown. "Do we have any available troops?" A troop was a unit of 81 Irken Soldiers.

"A few. Why?"

"Riots on Parkinglotia. The slaves working in the hotels want to get off-planet and get food."

Well, they didn't have food to spare and they didn't have anywhere off-planet to take the slaves. Irkens knew what famines were like. They'd take care of their own before they took care of aliens. "Ugh, deny it. If the slaves don't have food, the troops that are sent there won't either. Can we... do without the slaves?"

Purple continued frowning at the paper. Then his eyes lit up. "Oh! Oh. Send in a carnivorous species to replace the current slave force. THEY'LL be well-fed."

"Brilliant."

"Thanks!" Purple stamped the paper—"REQUEST DENIED – PURPLE"—scribbled on his additional recommendation, and sent the paper up the chute.

Starvation on Unnamed Irken Colony #13—food request partially denied, after a bit of debate Red and Purple agreed that they could probably get them 30% of their original request. Extreme poverty among all but four extremely fortunate merchants on Morbia—request for financial assistance denied, but accompanied by a direct order to the four merchants to redistribute the entirety of their finances among the five hundred Irkens on planet; if they distributed what they had among all two billion inhabitants, EVERYONE would be broke. The empire had been in perpetual debt for centuries.

"Hey, hey Red." Purple fought back a giggle. "This one's from Zim."

"Oh, really?" Red smiled weakly. "What does HE want?"

"Two tons of snacks, five more MegaDoomers, and four million monies."

The Tallest locked eyes. Then they cracked up. Red leaned back against the paper pile and slid down to the floor as he gasped for breath through his hysterics. Purple only shakily managed to hold the paper up against the wall so he could slam "REQUEST DENIED – PURPLE" on the sheet.

"Wh-what a... what a LOSER!" Purple shoved the paper up the chute. "Is he completely oblivious o-or WHAT?"

"Two tons! Did he really—did he really say two tons?!"

"I'd rather send it to the Parkinglotia slaves than him!"

"Yeah! Hah! Or colony thirteen!" Red's hysterics slowly trailed off. Quietly, he said, "... I wish we COULD send another two tons to colony thirteen."

Purple's laughs immediately cut off. "Yeah. ... Or even Parkinglotia."

"Yeah."

For a moment, they looked morosely at all the paperwork around them. Purple forced himself to pick up another paper, muttering, "I'd make snacks out of ZIM, but they'd weigh less than the packaging needed to ship him to thirteen."

Red forced a laugh. "They'd probably poison whoever tried to eat them, anyway."

"Hah! Yeah."

They said very little else for the rest of the time needed to go through enough paperwork to get to the door, except to occasionally consult with each other on what limited resources to send where. They spent a half hour arguing about a stock of medicine that, quite by accident, they'd both sent to two different planets, and the next two hours not talking to each other.

Every once in a while a second chute over the long-buried desk would drop out a new request for their attention; once, with a scream of frustration, Purple grabbed a wad of papers and shoved them up the chute. The next time a request came through, they all came raining back down on Purple's head.

Purple broke into the pack of fruity chips Red had given him, and then they slowly worked their way through the rest of Red's snacks, and then—holdout that he was—through Purple's stash; and they were still hungry, groggy, bleary-eyed, and in a foul mood as they left the office.

They both tried not to look at the sea of paper they hadn't gotten to.

As they locked the door again and hovered down the hall, Red turned to Purple. "Maybe we should start looking into annexing Sintillia."

"What—and let them burn their crops? Then we get NO sugar, Red."

"No, hear me out—if we're very careful when we send in the Invader, maybe mix them in with a diplomacy mission so they don't suspect anything—"

"Until it's too late and they've been conquered?"

"Yeah! And they’d probably be hesitant to retaliate if they weren’t 100% sure they were being invaded.”

“Yeah... yeah, I get it. I mean, it's not like they WANT to burn their crops, right? That's the only reason we haven't razed them and they know it. Without that..."

They drifted off toward the bridge, conspiring.

Two heads were better than one. Twice as much paperwork stamped, twice as many cries for help ignored. But even so—even so—that was twice as much progress than a singular Tallest could make in a day's work. And at least some cries had been answered, hadn't they? It wasn't like having twice as many Tallest meant the empire suddenly had twice as much food. They did what they could.

Yes—true—the Empire was the strongest it had ever been. It held vast swathes of the galaxy in its iron grip. But no one was more aware than the Almighty Tallest themselves just how brittle that iron was.

If you want a tiny fic/story, buy me a coffee and leave a prompt in the comments!

(Feel free to reblog/add comments)

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 58

Dib and Squee's class go on a field trip to a museum. Previous!  Next!

The Museum

           The announcements are said over the intercom and Miss Sweeties does attendance. All of the students respond apathetically.

           “Okay, everyone in Class A, head to the front yard,” she orders, “Mr. Garland is waiting for you to accompany you on your field trip. Class B, I’ll see you in class.”

           The students leave the classroom. Zim, Dib, Pepito, and Squee walk together.

           “Man, you guys are so lucky,” Pepito sighs, “you know what our class does for fun? Activity sheets.”

           “We’re just going to a museum,” Squee points out, “I’m not sure how much fun it’ll be.”

           “I see no point in museums,” Zim grunts.

           “What, do Irkens not preserve their history?” Dib asks.

           “No, we do. In fact, we have three planets for just that reason,” he replies, “I just see no point in it. If it’s not about Zim, then Zim doesn’t care.”

           Dib, Pepito, and Squee smile wearily and roll their eyes.

           “Okay, we’ll see you guys later,” Dib waves as he and Squee split off. They head downstairs to the front yard. The rest of their classmates are waiting outside along with their math teacher, Mr. Garland.

           “Is everyone here?” the teacher asks, “the bus should be arriving in a few minutes.”

           “Why is Mr. Garland escorting us and not Ms. Bitters?” Squee asks Dib quietly.

           “I don’t think Ms. Bitters is physically able to leave the Skool,” he replies.

           The bus arrives quickly and the students file in. Squee and Dib start to sit with Maddie in one of the middle seats, but Squee stops when he spots Kat sitting on the back seat all by herself. He nudges Dib and points at her. He glares at him in an ‘are you serious?’ way. Squee nods insistently. Dib groans and the three of them sit next to Kat without a word. She glances at them questionably before looking out the window.

           The bus ride is uneventful and filled with the chatter of students. The backseat is awkwardly quiet though. Dib glares at Kat over Squee’s head while she just stares out the window with a bored expression. Squee and Maddie keep to themselves on their phones.

           They arrive at the museum after about ten minutes. Everyone files out and waits on the front yard.

           “Why do you make us interact with her?” Dib asks Squee with annoyance, motioning to Kat as she walks away.

           “What’s so wrong with that?” he shrugs.

           “She’s an evil alien who tried to kill us, remember?” he points out.

           “Yeah, but I don’t think she’s a bad person. Not really,” he argues, “besides, Pepito and Gaz like her.”            “I like her too,” Maddie says quietly.

           Dib just scoffs.

           “Alright, everyone pay attention!” Mr. Garland calls, cutting out the chatter. He motions to a suited man beside him. “This is Mr. Lawrence. He’ll be our guide today. Everyone pay attention to what he says and don’t be afraid to take notes. You will be quizzed on what we learn today.”

           A disappointed groan passes over the group of students as Mr. Lawrence steps forward.

           “Okay, welcome to the City History Museum,” he announces, “here we have many exhibits from all over time such as dinosaurs and many different wars. But today is gonna be particularly exciting because we are presenting our brand new Egypt exhibit, featuring a real Mummy dug up in an Egyptian tomb.”            “Oh,” Dib chirps, interested.

           “Now follow me inside and we’ll begin the tour,” Mr. Lawrence says and leads the many teens in through the front doors. He stops at the front desk. “Please leave your bags and jackets with the receptionist.”

           The students go down a line, handing the receptionist their sweaters and bags. Squee gives her his sweater and starts to walk away, but Mr. Lawrence stops him.

           “Sorry, son, you gotta give her your bag,” he says, “we’ve had incidences of people smuggling museum property in their bags so we don’t want to risk it anymore.”

           Squee glowers with annoyance as he pulls Shmee out of his bag and hands it to the receptionist. He stares after it like he’s leaving behind a beloved family member as he walks away.

           “What a baby,” one of his classmates, Henry, scoffs, “why do you gotta carry that bear around all the time, Squee?”

           “He protects me from evil things,” Squee replies seriously. Henry and a lot of the other kids laugh and call him crazy.

           “Don’t listen to them, Squee,” Dib growls.

           “I won’t,” Squee grunts, “I just hope nobody digs through my bag. A lot of the stuff I have in there isn’t exactly legal.”

           “Okay, everyone follow me!” Mr. Lawrence orders. The students follow him in a large cluster deeper into the museum. The first room they enter is filled with dinosaur skeletons and fossils. Mr. Lawrence stops at each one, explaining what it is, what era it resided from, and where the bones were found. Some students chime in with questions or information they have on the subject. Dib and Squee don’t pay much attention but Kat is quite interested.

           “How could creatures as massive and powerful as these go extinct?” she asks as she examines a skeleton of a tyrannosaurus rex.

           “There are many theories but the most popular speculation is that they were wiped out by a large meteor,” Mr. Lawrence replies.

           “It seems unlikely that one meteor could wipe out an entire species,” Kat comments.

           “Well, many of today’s creatures are believed to have evolved from dinosaurs,” he explains, “in fact, there are many theories that suggest birds evolved from dinosaurs.”

           “Really,” she scoffs, “those noisy, timid varmints evolved from incredible beasts? It’s a wonder this planet isn’t completely lifeless with how horrible its inhabitants’ evolutionary chain is.”

           Mr. Lawrence chuckles awkwardly before clearing his throat. “Uh let’s move on, shall we?”

           They leave and enter the second room which is filled with old, rusty guns all displayed in glass cabinets. Some of the most recognizable ones are bayonets and large machine guns.

           “Ugh,” Squee groans with obvious disgust. “I hate guns.”

           Mr. Lawrence starts talking about several of the weapons: what time period they were in, what war they were used for. Dib and Squee pay even less attention than before.

           “Such archaic pieces of equipment,” Kat scoffs.

           “Well, they were made many decades ago,” Mr. Lawrence points out, “but let’s move on, shall we? To the main attraction.”

           They enter the third room and it’s almost like entering a new world, or a new continent to be specific. The walls have been made up to look like sand blocks, like walls of a pyramid. Sitting along them are tables holding all kinds of Egyptian artifacts like vases or small statues. There are also large statues of bird gods or cats. And at the far end stands a sarcophagus next to a large, golden gong and a large stone tablet with hieroglyphic inscriptions.

           “Ah, now here’s the good stuff,” Dib purrs excitedly.

           “Behold, our brand new Egyptian exhibit,” Mr. Lawrence says dramatically, clearly excited. “Archeologists spent years exploring an ancient Egyptian tomb in order to recover all of these artifacts.”

           “It was all found in the same tomb?” Dib asks.

           “Yes,” he nods, “we believe they were offerings for him.” He points at the sarcophagus and approaches the tablet.

           “This sarcophagus was unearthed from its resting place?” Dib questions then whispers excitedly to Squee, “I smell a mummy curse.”

           “This sarcophagus holds a real mummy,” Mr. Lawrence explains, “researchers believe he was named Apep, after the Egyptian god for chaos. It is still unknown what he did in life, but whatever it was it must’ve been very bad because his sarcophagus was sealed with a curse.”

           “The inscription on this tablet reads ‘any who strike the gong shall unleash an unspeakable evil and suffer for all eternity.”

           “Well, actually it reads ‘Apep, warrior of destruction, shall only be released if the striker of the gong is one of strength and power’,” Kat states matter-of-factly.

           Mr. Lawrence stares at her with bewilderment then quickly clears his throat. “Yes, well, you get the idea.”

           “You can read hieroglyphs?” Squee asks Kat.

           “Sure,” she shrugs, “my cybernetic eye can translate any language.”

           “Cool,” he comments.

           “I get the feeling this Apep was incredibly dangerous,” Dib says, “but he was sealed away with a curse because someone in his time felt it might be necessary to release him someday. Perhaps as some sort of trump card in a war.”        

           “Whatever,” Squee grunts, “curses are bad news.”

           “What, are you scared of a little mummy, Squeakers?” their classmate, Jessica, sneers.

           “Yeah,” Squee replies plainly.    

           “Don’t worry, Squee,” Dib says reassuringly, “the chances that the curse would be unlocked just by anyone ringing the gong are incredibly low. It would probably require someone powerful, like a Pharaoh, in order for it to work.”

           “Look at you, Mister Expert,” Henry scoffs, “you think you know everything, don’t you?”

           “Well, I certainly know a lot about curses,” Dib states proudly.

           “You’re such a freak,” he jeers and the other students start laughing. Dib just glares at them, irritated.

           “Okay, everyone, that’s enough,” Mr. Garland says, “the next hour is free time. Please peruse the museum and study the exhibits. But don’t touch anything; you don’t wanna risk breaking something.”

           The students quickly split into their own groups and go to do their own thing. Most go to the war room, chatting excitedly about the guns. Dib, Squee, and Maddie stay in the Egyptian room. Maddie doesn’t show much interest; she just plays on her GS3. But Dib examines the artifacts with great enthusiasm.

           “Egypt is such an interesting culture, don’t you think?” Dib asks, “I would love to see a real, live mummy.”

           “You mean ‘live’ like figuratively, right?” Squee questions.

           “I’ll take what I can get,” Dib shrugs.

           Dib reads a plaque on one of the god statues. Squee looks around, bored, until he notices Henry and his friends- James, Matt, and Alex- walk up to the sarcophagus.

           “Think there’s really a mummy in there?” James asks.

           “Nah, it’s probably fake,” Alex shrugs.

           “Why don’t you touch it?” Henry challenges.

           “No way, dude, you touch,” Alex retorts.

           “Ring the gong,” Matt orders.

           “No, dude, you do it,” James laughs.

           They start laughing and challenging each other to touch it. Squee watches them, unimpressed.

           “Simple things entertain simple minds,” he mutters.

           “What?” Henry snaps and they look at him. “You say something, Squeakers?”

           “Not really,” Squee shrugs.

           “If you’re so smart, then why don’t you ring the gong?” James challenges.

           “Because ringing the gong would be the complete opposite of smart,” Squee points out.

           “What are you, scared?” Alex jeers.

           “Yeah,” he replies plainly, “curses are dangerous.”

           “Squee’s right,” Dib nods, “better to not risk it.”            “You two are crazy,” Henry scoffs, “nothing is gonna happen if we ring it.”            “Maybe not if you ring it,” Dib says, “but if someone important were to ring it-.”

           “What, are you saying we’re not important?” he snaps.

           “In the general scheme of things, no not really.”

           Henry scoffs and stomps up to the gong. “I’ll show you,” he growls as he picks up the hammer.

           “No!” Dib exclaims. He rushes over and pulls the hammer away. “Don’t test it! This guy was named after a god of chaos. We can’t risk setting him free.”

           “It’s not real, you freak,” Henry snaps as he grabs the hammer and shoves Dib back. “Nothing is going to happen.”

           “Don’t!” Dib barks and grips the handle. They wrestle for it, shoving each other back and forth, until Dib’s foot slips on the floor. He falls back, ripping the hammer from Henry’s hands. He stumbles to catch his footing and strikes the gong.

           It rings loudly, the sound reverberating throughout the entire building. Dib gasps and steps back, dropping the hammer at his feet. “Oh no.”

           Everything is still for a second as the kids hold their breath and stare at the sarcophagus. But nothing happens.

           “Ha,” Henry scoffs, “see, I told you.”

           As they start to turn away, a horrible feeling shudders down Squee’s spine.

           “Squee,” Shmee warns.

           “Dib!” Squee shouts, “get back!”

           Dib looks at him with surprise then freezes when he hears a creak behind him, like an old door. He slowly looks back as the sarcophagus slowly opens up.

           An old, shriveled hand covered in dead skin reaches out, scratching the front of the sarcophagus lid. Dib, Henry, and his friends watch, petrified with fear, as a foot steps out with the same shriveled skin.

          “Hey!” Mr. Garland shouts as he, Mr. Lawrence, and the other students come into the room. “What’s going on…in…here…?”            They all freeze as the sarcophagus opens completely, revealing its contents: a tall, thin corpse with shriveled, off-colour brown skin. It’s completely naked except for some stray bandages wrapped loosely around its legs, arms, and torso. Its eye sockets are completely empty but its mouth has a series of sharp, rotten teeth. It moans, as if trying to breathe, and twitches as it lifts its back off the sarcophagus floor.

           It doesn’t move for a second, just stares off into the room, its jaw twitching like its trying to speak.

           “H-hello?” Dib squeaks nervously. “A-Apep?”

           Its head whips towards Dib’s with unsettlingly speed. He jumps back with surprise.            

           Apep lifts his hand, slowly and stiltedly, as if he’s not quite used to moving.

           “Squee, we gotta move!” Shmee warns.

           “Dib!” Squee exclaims.

           Without a second thought, Dib dives to the floor. A wave of dark blue energy is released from Apep’s hand. It hits the gong, disintegrating it into a pile of dust.

           “Whoa,” Dib whimpers.

          Simultaneously, all of the students start screaming. They race away into the weapons exhibit. Dib scrambles to his feet and he, Squee, and Maddie quickly join the stampede.

           Apep lumbers away from his sarcophagus and points his hand towards the ceiling of the weapons exhibit. He releases another blast, this one much more pinpointed than his previous, blowing a hole into the ceiling. Rubble falls in front of the doorway leading to the dinosaur exhibit, blocking the exit.

           Everyone screams as they slide to a stop. They look back as Apep lurches towards them, slowly but menacingly.    

           “This way!” Mr. Lawrence orders and points to the left of the room at closed door. Everyone races to it and he throws it open, revealing a stairwell. They quickly race up the stairs to the second floor which is a hallway with some doors.

           Mr. Lawrence closes the door to the stairwell and locks it. Everyone pants as they stare at it, shocked and speechless.

           “I can’t believe this is happening,” Jessica moans.

           “That thing can’t be real,” another student, Maria, squeals.

           “It’s gonna kill us all!” a third student, Jackson, shrieks.

           “It’s all Dib’s fault!” Henry snaps.          

           “My fault?” Dib scoffs.

           “If you didn’t believe in all this stuff, then this wouldn’t have happened!” he barks.

           “Yeah!” Jessica agrees, “you’re so crazy, I bet you woke that mummy up just for fun.”            “I-,” Dib tries to argue but he’s quickly cut off.

           “You’re always getting everyone involved in your stupid fantasies!” Alex shouts.

           “You’re going to get us all killed!” James adds.

           “You should sacrifice yourself to save us!” Maria snaps.

           It’s a witch hunt. The terrified students are looking for someone to blame and poor Dib is their victim. He can’t even get a chance to argue his case. They shout at him endlessly, calling him names, telling him to give himself up to the mummy. The two adults are too stunned to try and stop it. Maddie watches nervously from the sidelines, glancing between Dib and the other students. Kat just rolls her eyes with annoyance.

           But Squee squeezes his fists tightly, growling quietly as his patience burn shorter and shorter, like the fuse on a bomb. And without warning, he snaps.

           “Shut up!” he shouts, his voice bouncing off the walls, startling everyone, even Shmee. They all look at him, wide-eyed and shocked.

           “You narrow-minded, short-sighted, ignorant cretins!” Squee snaps, stepping up the mob. “All Dib ever tries to do is protect you people, keep you safe from the monsters you deny the existences of. But you aren’t grateful, you don’t listen to him, you don’t even respect him! All you do is insult him; you call him crazy and push him around. And still, despite all of this, he just wants to keep people like you safe! You don’t deserve his kindness and if it were up to me, I would just let the mummy kill every one of you!”

           He pants angrily while everyone just stares him, bewildered. Even Shmee is surprised.

           Squee takes a deep breath and faces Dib. “How do we stop it?”

           “Ah, um,” Dib stammers, slightly taken aback. “Well, uh, we either gotta destroy it completely or we gotta trap it in its sarcophagus and reactivate the curse. Honestly, I prefer the second option. This thing is a marvel and I would like to keep it intact.”

           “I’m not sure we’re gonna have that luxury,” Squee points out, “but if it’s a curse we need, then we’re also gonna need someone who can read the hieroglyphs.”            

           He looks over at Kat and she blinks with surprise.

           “Fine, I’ll help,” she shrugs and walks over. “But only because that little outburst of yours impressed me. I didn’t know you had it in you,” she smirks and playfully punches Squee’s shoulder.

           He chuckles awkwardly and rubs his arm, “ow.”

           “Fine,” Dib groans, “but first, we should get everyone out of here safely. We don’t wanna risk anyone getting hurt.”            “If you say so,” Squee scoffs and rolls his eyes.

           “Mr. Lawrence, is there another way out?” Dib asks.

           “There’s an emergency exit in the Egypt exhibit,” he replies.

           “Seriously,” Squee groans.

           “That’s not gonna work,” Dib sighs and looks around. There’s a window at the end of the hall that looks out into a back alley. He pushes it open and pokes his head. There’s a full dumpster just below them.

           “You’re all gonna have to jump,” he orders.

           “Are you crazy?” Jessica snaps.

           “It’s either that or you contend with Apep,” Dib points out.

           Everyone murmurs amongst themselves before slowly approaching the window.

           “I’ll go first,” Mr. Garland says.

           “Get everyone to the bus and just get out of here,” Dib orders, “don’t worry about us.”

           Mr. Garland nods hesitantly. Then he squeezes through the small window and drops down to the dumpster. He lands harmlessly on the garbage and slides down onto the ground.

           “Okay, everyone else go, hurry,” Dib demands.

           One by one all of the students slip through the window and drop down onto the garbage. They move quickly until it’s only Maddie and Mr. Lawrence left.

           “Are you guys sure you’re gonna be okay?” Maddie asks nervously.

           “We’ll be fine,” Dib smile reassuringly.

           “But just in case,” Squee adds, “if we’re not back at the Skool by three, tell Zim, Pepito, and Gaz what happened.”

           She nods, wishes them good luck, and jumps out the window. Finally Mr. Lawrence does the same, so Dib, Squee, and Kat are the only ones left.

           “Alright, now what?” Kat asks.

           “I have to grab my stuff from the front desk,” Squee says, “I won’t be able to fight without it.”

           “But there’s only one doorway downstairs and it was blocked off,” Dib points out.

           “There has to be another way,” Squee insists and looks around. He sees an air duct higher up the wall. “The vents. They should lead to the front desk. I’ll just crawl through them.”

           “Good thing you’re small,” Dib comments, “alright, you grab your stuff. Tak and I will get to the Egypt exhibit and try to figure out the curse.”

           “Okay. Try to avoid the mummy if you can,” Squee warns.

           Dib nods as Squee jogs up the air vent. It’s at least two feet higher than he him. He could try to jump to grab it but how would he get the grate off?

           “Um, Kat?” he questions, “could you give me hand?”

           Kat rolls her eyes. Her human disguise drops, revealing her true cyborg-Irken self. Her PAK opens up and a pair of metal spider legs stretches out. They rip the grate off then carefully lift Squee up to the opening.

           “Thank you,” he says as he crawls inside. “I’ll meet up with you guys later.”            Dib and Tak watch him leave for a few seconds before looking at each other. They take a deep breath, go over to the stairwell door, and peek through the window. It’s dark and empty.

           “I don’t see him,” Dib says.

           “He must know we came up here,” Tak points out, “he’ll reach us eventually.”

           “But he moves slow, so we have a speed advantage.”

           “But if we get hit by his magic, we’ll turn to dust.”            They look at each other and nod simultaneously. “So don’t get hit.”

           Dib opens the door and they burst out and down the stairs at full speed. But they slide to an abrupt stop when they reach the middle landing as Apep scratches at the first floor door. He plants his hand on the window and turns the whole thing to dust. As he lumbers inside the stairwell, he looks up at Dib and Tak and makes a low, gurgling noise.

           “Move!” Tak orders. She grabs Dib’s arm and yanks him out of the way just as Apep shoots a beam up at them. It hits the wall behind them, making a large hole.

           Tak snarls and unleashes a spider leg from her PAK. It lunges at Apep. He points at it, releasing a beam of magic, reducing the metal appendage to dust. Tak gasps painfully.    

           Dib grabs hold of the stair railing and slides down. As he reaches the bottom, he jumps off and kicks Apep in the face. The mummy is too slow to react and flies backwards into the weapons exhibit.

           Dib lands on the floor and looks up at Tak. “Come on!”

           Tak follows him out of the stairwell and to the Egyptian exhibit as Apep slowly rises to his feet. They hurry to the stone tablet and slide to a stop.

           “It must have something written on it about the curse, right?” Dib asks hopefully.

           “I believe so,” Tak replies, “there is quite a lot written on here about Apep and the curse. It may be a code. But it will take me a second to decipher it.”

           They look back worriedly as Apep shambles into the doorway. He looks at them with his eyeless eyes and moans.

           “Decipher it!” Dib orders, “I’ll distract him.”            Dib races over to the left and waves his arms. “Hey, Apep, over here! Hit me if you can!”

           The mummy looks at him and growls. He swipes his arm, unleashing a wave of magic. Dib ducks under it and it slices through a statue and creates a gash in the hall, like it had been cut by a large blade. Dib shudders fearfully and starts running. Apep stares after him and lifts his hand. He shoots a beam of magic. It hits a cabinet inches in front of Dib. He screams with fear and surprise and falls backwards.

           Dib looks up as Apep points his hand at him. He yelps and covers his head as he waits for the attack to hit.

           Before Apep can shoot it, Squee races in, knife in hand, and slices through Apep’s arm at the shoulder. The magic attack dies in his palm as the severed arm bounces on the floor.

          Squee slides to a stop on the left side of Apep and faces him, his bag hanging off his shoulder, Shmee on his head, and his knives in his hands.

           “Squee!” Dib cheers with relief.

           Apep stares at his severed arm with a mix of surprise and grief on his face. Then he throws his head back and shrieks. Dib, Squee, and Tak cover their ears and antennae as the noise beats against their eardrums- and whatever Tak’s equivalent is.

           When he’s finally finished screaming, Apep looks at Squee with pure rage. Squee squeaks with surprise as Apep points his one good hand at him. He dives out of the way of a wave of magic. Tak shouts with surprise as it connects with the wall beside her.

           “Hey, watch it!” she barks.

           “Then hurry up!” Dib retorts as he stands up.

           “It’s no use!” Tak says hopelessly, “whatever was used to exact the curse we do not have now. We can’t trap him.”

           “Then our only hope is to destroy him,” Squee states.

           Apep waves his arm towards the boys. They yelp and dive out of the way of another magic attack then race over to Tak.

           “But how?” Dib asks.

           “We’ll blow him up,” Squee replies as he reaches into his bag and pulls out a Smiley Bomb.

           Dib sighs and nods, “okay.”

           Squee starts to pull the pin but before he gets the chance, Apep shoots another wave of magic at them. They narrowly dive out of the way and it destroys the stone tablet.

           “He’s not gonna give us a chance,” Squee says frantically, “even if I do manage to pull the pin, he’ll just destroy it before it can reach him.”

           “We gotta trap him first then,” Tak declares.

           “But how?” Dib asks.

           An idea strikes them at the same time and they look back at the sarcophagus. Then they look at each other and nod.

           They split up; Tak stays in front of Apep while Dib and Squee go around each side. Tak releases her remaining three spider legs and try swinging them at him. He points at them and shoots beams of magic. Tak whips her legs about, dodging each beam, but she can’t any closer to him.

           Dib slips behind Apep and slams his elbow into the back of his head. Apep makes a gurgling noise like he’s gasping as he stumbles forward. He starts to turn around to face Dib when Tak lunges her spider legs at him. He shoots at them with magic to keep them at bay. Then Dib drives his fist into Apep side, causing him to stumble more to the left.

           Squee stands at the side, watching the fight closely, waiting for his chance. He feels a nagging feeling in the back of his head but he ignores, chocking it up to Apep, until Shmee suddenly perks up.

           “Squee!” he exclaims.

           Squee looks down as Apep’s severed arm grabs his ankle. He squeals with surprise and fear and falls backwards.

           Everyone looks at him with surprise. Apep starts to swing his good arm, aiming to unleash a wave of magic at the startled Squee. Dib reacts quickly and punches him in the face. Apep misses as he stumbles back, the attack flying just over Squee’s head. Apep snarls and glares at Dib.

           “Get off!” Squee snaps and kicks his leg furiously. The severed arm loses its grip on his pants and flies across the room, smacking Apep across the face. He looks at Squee and roars viciously.

           Dib cracks him across the face again. Apep stumbles backwards a little more before snarling at Dib. He lifts his arm and readies an attack. Dib prepares to dodge when Tak’s spider legs whips at Apep from behind, slicing through his bicep. The severed arm flops about at Apep’s feet.

           Apep shrieks with despair, both of his arms jumping around on the floor like fish out of water. The scream nearly cripples the kids again, but Squee grabs the opportunity quickly.

           “Dib!” he calls as he races across the room, knife in hand. He dives down and stabs the knife through one of Apep’s bandages hanging from his leg, driving it through the floor.

           Dib catches on quickly. He dashes over and high kicks Apep in the jaw. Apep cries out angrily but before he can catch himself, his caught bandage tightens and he loses his balance. It rips as he stumbles backwards and into the sarcophagus.

           Squee rolls to his feet, pulls the pin on his Smiley Bomb, and whips it after Apep just as Tak closes the lid with a spider leg.

           “Move, move!” Squee orders.

           The kids scramble away just as the bomb explodes, obliterating the sarcophagus, the wall, and much of the ceiling.

           Meanwhile, at the High Skool, the final bell rings, signalling the end of classes. Pepito and Zim walk to their lockers and look around curiously.

           “Squee and Dib aren’t back yet,” Zim states.

           “That field trip wasn’t supposed to take all day, was it?” Pepito asks.

           They put their stuff in their lockers and start to turn away just Maddie quickly approaches.

           “Maddie, what’s up?” Pepito asks.

           “Squee and Dib haven’t returned?” she questions.

           “No,” Zim replies suspiciously.

           She nervously chews her thumb nail.

           “Why? What’s going on?” Pepito asks.

           “We were attacked by a mummy!” she bursts out, “Squee, Dib, and Kat stayed back to fight it. And they told me that if they didn’t return by three, to tell you guys!”            “What?” Pepito exclaims.

           “A mummy!” Zim gasps then cocks his head. “What’s a mummy?”            “It’s like a zombie,” he replies.

           “Zombies!?” Zim shrieks. He grabs Pepito and Maddie’s arms and zooms down the hall, dragging them behind. “Dib and Squee need our help.”            “What about Kat?” Pepito asks.

           “Who cares about her?” he scoffs.

           They race out the front doors but come to an abrupt halt in front of Gaz. She looks at them questionably.

           “What’s going on?” she asks.

           “Dib and Squee are in trouble!” Zim exclaims.

           “Huh?”

           They all flinch at a car door slamming and look up at Johnny, standing by his car and glaring at them.

           “What’s going on,” he demands.

           Pepito cowers behind Zim who’s shaking just as bad as he is. Only Maddie and Gaz aren’t completely petrified.

           “Uh we went to a museum and-,” Maddie starts to explain but Gaz cuts her off.

           “Look, there they are,” she says.

          They look down the road as Dib, Squee, and Kat- in her human disguise- walk towards them. They’re covered in dirt and dust and a few scrapes and scratches and they look overall exhausted.

           “Squee! Dib!” Zim and Pepito exclaim and rush over, Gaz and Maddie close behind.

           “Are you guys okay?” Pepito asks, “Maddie said you were attacked by a mummy!”            “Yeah! It was awesome!” Dib cheers.

           “You and I differ greatly on our definitions of ‘awesome’,” Squee grunts.

           “Okay but it was so awesome when you slid in and sliced his arm off,” Dib points out.

           “Not as awesome as you beating on him, like the way you high kicked him into the sarcophagus,” Squee retorts.

           “That only worked because you had the brilliant idea to catch his bandage so he’d lose his balance.”

           “But it was your brilliance that kept us all alive, even those useless troglodytes.”

           Dib chuckles, “yeah, well, it was really awesome how you stood up for me. No one’s ever done that before.”

           Squee stares at him with surprise then looks away awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “Well uh…they had it coming. Still think we should’ve just left them for the mummy…”

           Dib smiles softly. Then they all blink with surprise as their names are called.

           “Dib, Squee, Kat!” Mr. Garland shouts as he jogs over. “I am glad you’re all okay.”            “Of course we’re okay,” Dib beams proudly.

           “But um listen,” he says nervously, “I don’t want this getting out. If the Skool board found out I left three of my students in danger, I could lose my job. So uh is there any way we could keep this quiet?”

           They glare him then glance at each other.

           “Tell you what,” Dib smirks, “we’ll send you a bill for our services.”            Squee laughs as they turn away, leaving the staggered Mr. Garland to just stare after them.

           “You guys!” Pepito exclaims as he clings to Squee’s arm. “You gotta tell us everything that happened!”

           “Later,” Squee whines, “I just wanna go home and sleep…for like a week.”            “Aw, that sounds good,” Dib sighs.

           “So why is she here?” Zim growls, nodding at Kat.

           “She helped us,” Squee replies, “right, Dib?”

           “Yeah,” he groans, “I guess she was kind of helpful.”

           “Don’t hurt yourself with those compliments, Dib,” Kat scoffs as she walks away. “I’ll see you guys.”

           “I can’t believe you actually teamed up with her,” Zim spits.

           “We had to do what we had to do to stop that mummy,” Dib points out, “it’s not like we could let it run rampant. Teaming up with people you don’t like to protect people who aren’t grateful: that’s what it means to be a hero. Right, Squee?”

           Squee chuckles. “I don’t think being a hero is really my thing, Dib.” He looks over at Johnny, who’s leaning against his car and watching them. “But I’ll do all that if it means protecting people who are important to me.”

           “Well, that’s heroic enough,” Dib shrugs.

           Squee smiles and waves as he turns away. “Anyway, I’ll see you guys later.”            The group quickly splits off, everyone going their respective ways to get home.

           Later that night, after a nice, long shower, Dib goes into his room wearing pyjama pants and a towel draped over his neck. His damp scythe lock lies flat on his head.

           He grabs his trench coat off his bed and digs around in the pockets until he finds a dirty, ripped bandage: a souvenir from the mummy.

           He seals the bandage in a plastic baggy and writes ‘Mummy Fragment’ on it in permanent marker. Then he grabs a book from his shelf. It’s a bulging scrapbook filled with remnants of his adventures.

           He tapes the baggy to an empty space on one of the pages and underneath it writes ‘Mummy- Apep- defeated by Dib and Squee.’

           He smiles at it proudly for a second before groaning and begrudgingly adds ‘and Tak.’