Where it all began~

Okay, so WOW I bet some of you were thinking you'd never see me again, huh? I kinda thought I'd never see you guys either... So, a while back I had decided to give up on this story. Take it back to notebook and rewrite everything, because I didn't really think it was any good. It's changed so much since I first started scribbling it down on scratch paper and I know some of you are going "What? What is she talking about? This story rocks and it's so {insert things here}" But you've never seen things on this end.

I've changed the overall plot of the story nine times and a few of those were during the course of writing the first chapter alone. Since then, I think I've managed to figure out what's going on but to be honest, the inspiration is sporadic and fleeting. Nowadays I spend the majority of my time over in Transformers and Ninja Turtles, even though I don't have anything written for them either. Any spare seconds I have after that are spent rolling around on my (incredibly messy) living room floor, wondering when my life will start, or desperately trying to yank ideas for the one other story I'm writing out of my head so I can mush them mercilessly onto paper.

So I decided to give up. 'Magna, it just isn't working. Look how long it's been and how little you've accomplished. You might as well just pull the plug and add it to the pile of shit you've never finished. It's so big, no one will notice this one more thing.' And I did. I put it in the pile, where it's been for a long time. Well, this past Saturday was my one day off and, I decided to check my email right after I woke up. I found a simple review from a reader telling me that this story is amazing and am I finishing NEED MORE!

I started writing chapter 7 last September and then stopped halfway through when I hit a wall that I just could not find the willpower to climb over, walk around, or tunnel beneath. Then I saw this review, first thing in the morning, sitting in my inbox along with matching messages saying I had a new follower and another favorite under my belt, and I thought 'Ya know what? I'm gonna finish that today! I'm gonna sit my ass on the computer and not get up, not do anything else, until it's finished. And I'm gonna post it.'

So I sat in my chair and brought up the file and while my fiance did laundry and washed dishes and brought me a baked potato, I wrote. I wrote, and went to the bathroom, and piddled around in a chat room for company, and felt bad for myself, and ate potato salad instead, until, an embarrassing twelve hours later, I was done.

Then I went to bed. And then work. Then I hunted for gas and bought printer ink. Drove home and changed clothes. Fell into tumblr accidentally-on-purpose. Signed up for a commission slot on my dA account. And then I came here to write all of this author note stuff that I almost forgot how to do.

I can't say I'm entirely happy with the way all of it turned out: particularly the end. I'll admit I forced that out so I could be done. I tried to revise it a bit and I came up with nothing. My consolation is that it at least provides a foundation for me to improve on later. I am happy that I got it this far. Part of what was taking so long was the tedium of trying to portray everything I wanted you guys to feel. But this is the point I've been writing for for so so very long. After this is when the story starts.

Still not satisfied with the ending. This chapter, too, has not been edited but I can say with certainty it'll go through the wringer. Just not today or anytime in the next month. I lied when I said 'after this is when the story starts.' Silly me. It started seven chapters ago. After this isn't even when it starts to get good. It's always been good. This is just when things begin to snowball desperately beyond anyone's control. After this is the point of no return. After this is conflict and and adventure. Llamas and explosions and lasers and shit.

He was trailing the fingers of one hand gently against the wall, only a few steps away from the garage when he heard it. A faint tinkling of metal striking concrete, close, but sounding far away.

Zim immediately choked on his own spit and whirled to find, faintly backlit in the entryway to the kitchen, absolutely no one.

The noise came again, on the back of a low rumble of thunder and Zim reached up to slide the wig off and free his antennae, taking a few quiet steps back the way he'd come to maybe locate the source. His eyes had adjusted ages ago to the murk but whatever it had been was either gone or invisible. Maybe he'd just been imagining things?

A faint light clicked on behind the door immediately to his right (which he now realized had been only half-closed the whole time) and he scrambled backwards, fighting to control the panic rising in his chest. If he was discovered now there was not much he could do to defend himself or escape. Humans were historically violent when it came to defending territory and he doubted whoever found him would let him leave without questioning, nevermind that he knew all of the residents.

There was certainly the garage, but throwing a brief look over his shoulder showed at least three mismatched locks just visible in the gloom. Those would take precious seconds to get through and Irk forbid if they all turned in different directions. He couldn't even remember what the front door looked like. He knew he'd have to vault the couch but with his luck he'd trip over a lamp.

The kitchen was another option but again he wouldn't have time to undo any locks, leaving the only option to either go through the glass or back the way he'd come. Upstairs.

This was not good.

So so stupid to back himself into a corner, stupid Zim! He should have performed a bio-scan before entering the building or at least before leaving Dib's room. Hell, he had one in his bag for this exact purpose; always leaping before he looked.

Several tense moments passed and Zim clung to the screwdriver tool. He had managed to bring a whole bag of junk with him, but nothing that could incapacitate anything bigger than a gerbil. The light flickered but he heard nothing. The door didnt move.

He had to secure the area or leave. Moving on without ascertaining the threat level would be too risky.

He cautiously reached out a hand to push the door open a few more inches. There were more stairs, but here they led down into a cold, dark, stainless-steel clad gloom. It was only marginally brighter in this passage, the blue tinted light coming from the biometrical scanner attached to the sliding plexiglass door halfway open at the bottom.

There didn't seem to be anyone down here.

'This must be the Professor's lab.' Zim shivered as the HVAC system sent a cold draft over him.

The lab beyond the glass looked dark and uninhabited like the rest of the house.

He could just leave. He should just leave. The likelihood of anyone being down here was incredibly slim. Didn't Dib once mention that his parent thing was never home? Not to mention the chances of Gaz doing anything unaffiliated with video games or tv were only slightly greater than his chances of regaining his Invader status.

No he really should just go on to the garage. He was certain he would find something there. He turned to leave, pulling the door behind him when The Noise returned, accompanied by a shuffling that his antennae insisted was Something. There WAS someone down there.

Fuck. He couldnt leave now. Now he had to investigate further. He really hated his curiosity. And dying.

His antennae twitched wildly with agitation. They did not want him to go down those stairs and after a further pause he ignored them and carefully stepped down onto the top step, taking care to stay silent. He went slow, keeping his eyes on the space beyond the frame to check for the Professor sweeping around the laboratory like an enormous white swooshy thing and his antennae laid back to listen for Gaz. Nothing. No sounds. No movement. No lights save for the hand scanner. He paused again at the door, clutching the wig and screwdriver, prepared to bolt and reminding himself that tripping going back up the stairs would be bad.

The lab beyond was dark of course, but also much larger than he had anticipated. He could see a bank of lab tables, fumigation hoods, a gas cabinet, shelves of beakers and decanters. A centrifuge. Data terminal. A coat rack against the left hand wall next to a hermetically sealed clean room. An array of tools hung from a setup on the ceiling. There wasn't much else he could see past the frame. He steeled his resolve and willed himself not to throw up upon reaching the bottom because this was SUCH a bad idea. There was nothing HERE. It was probably just a squirrel! A squirrel that had gotten through at least three doors and somehow activated and qualified for the most sophisticated genetically-based lock he had seen a human produce. Four feet off the ground.

He groaned quietly and ducked through the opening, scuttling to a particularly invisible patch of shadows to his right. This was a brilliant idea. His squeedly-spooch squirmed uncomfortably, protesting his dumbness. What. Was he supposed to do now. In unknown, potentially hostile territory. No escape route. Weapons? Not unless he could wig someone to death. The knife on his multitool was sharp but inadequately short for combat situations. Stabbing someone could easily snap the blade, especially if it impacted something as hard as human bone not to mention the possibility of slicing himself open. The screwdriver was another bet, but he'd have to have spectacular aim to cause any damage. He wouldnt be able to switch between the two and thus would have to pick one. Just in case. A few practiced hand movements brought the blade out of hiding once more.

His antennae jerked as they picked up another scuff/shuffle far off to his right and he nearly dropped it. Now that he was actually inside the lab, he could see that it extended quite a ways. If he wasn't mistaken, at least to the furthest edge of the garage. Maybe even the property line. He was crouched against a wall, completely exposed, and down down another dark hall there was another light, so bright and harsh he marveled at not noticing it immediately. As he watched what he assumed to be an exposed fluorescent tube, it was extinguished, leaving behind the unmistakable white-blue glow of a liquid crystal display. Probably a computer monitor.

His hopes of squirrels were crushed by the tall shadow splashed against the wall before the high creak of pivoting hinges blocked the monitor and it merged with the darkness around it. His heart throbbed in his throat, but the footsteps that followed were clearly traveling away from him. Zim counted seven before there was a thu-screak BAM, and the sound was out of hearing range. He waited, unsure which course to follow. Clearly that was not a squirrel. Squirrels did not wear boots or carry jangly rings of keys. Presence in house: confirmed. But was that enough to justify backing out and continuing his mission? What if there were others? He didnt even know if that had been the Professor. It wouldnt be terribly difficult to creep around the corner. But the further he got from the exit... he had to. He had to. It was not worth risking an ambush later. He swallowed and shifted slightly, the rustle of his wig against his coat making him jump a bit. It was so quiet down here. No buzz of lights or hum of equipment. Just a heavy silence that made his antennae quiver.

The wig was no longer of use, so into the bag it went, crammed into a large side pocket that refused to close. The zipper struggled against the strands caught in the teeth, unable to join the halves of fabric. What was even in here? He hadn't put anything in this pocket. Digging around revealed a familiar boxy device.

The bioscanner.

Curses. Twice in the span of ten minutes. He angrily ripped the device out of the pocket, disgusted with himself. Forget losing his touch. He was starting to believe he'd never had it to begin with. He popped the draw latches and unfolded the box.

It was compact, made of dark, high-impact polystyrene plastic. The screen on the right was a radar system and mapped out the readings from the screen on the left, showing the proximity and movement of other biological organisms. Angrily, he mashed in the parameters to locate carbon-based forms between 300 and 315 Kelvin, emitting a rough 12 micron, a few more for EM fields and size, along with those for his own species.

After an agonizing wait of what was only five seconds the device was done. The screen on the left scrolled on and on with near-incomprehensible jargon and the radar on the other side showed only two pulsing dots. One in his exact coordinates, providing a handy reference point, with the other roughly 37 feet behind him.

On a slightly positive note, in the fifty foot range he had entered, this was all the device detected. On a much worse note, the incomprehensible jargon indicated that while this was all that fit within his exact parameters, there were many bits of data in the immediate outlying parameters. While only two data points showed on the radar, there could be many more that he'd inadvertently excluded. So even though he'd confirmed at least one other presence, he would still have to go see if there were more.

Zim's squeedly-spooch and antennae quivered in anxiety as he looked back down the darkened passage. He really didnt want to be dissected.

Staying crouched, he began a slow creep down the hall, occasionally using his knife hand for balance. After a little more than twenty feet, the hall turned right. He'd passed two other doors, but both had been locked and windowless so there was no telling what was behind them. The cold silence had his antennae perked up high, wiggling in tight little circles to pick up the faintest of sounds but there hadn't been any. Constant glances down at the scanner showed that the other blip had moved back and forth across the screen, presumably in a room of some sort. He had no means of mapping the structure, another oversight that could have been rectified back in his storage rooms hours ago, but, a cautious peek around the corner revealed more dark hallway and he took a look down at the radar then back up, yet another faint light glimmered close to the floor, perhaps another twenty or thirty feet down. This was beginning to become monotonous.

'Just thirty more feet and you can get out of here and go back to the garage.'

Zim stared at the light as he rounded the corner. Very close to him was the room that had been open just moments before, the blue of the monitor reflecting off the white tile of the floor as he moved past it. 'Closer, closer.' Twenty feet to go. Another door. 'Cripes how much storage space does this guy need?' Every jamb he encountered made his organs writhe and knuckles tighten, his natural flight-or-fight response conflicting with the signals sent from his PAK, sending chemicals rushing through his systems, having to struggle against ragged respiration and muscles prepared for attack, a demanding compound of run-for-your-life and failure-not-an-option. Forcing himself to breathe and willing his hands not to shake from the bursts of artificial adrenaline, he kept going. Door passed and another ten feet. Another corner.

Here the hallway split, turning once more to the right and continuing on in front of him. The light was coming from beneath a set of double doors to the right and across the hall. From his position, he couldn't see any more passages or doors down either branch of the hallway and the blip on the radar showed to be lurking in what may have been a far corner of the room. He could totally do this. Just a couple more minutes and he could snoop around back upstairs. Silently, he crabbed his way across the wide hallway to the double doors. Radar. Blip. Not moving. Good. The jargon display was still showing him a whole lot of maybes that also appeared to be in this room. He gulped. It was now or never. The little box was latched shut and put back into its pocket. A closer inspection of what lay before him showed that the doors didn't rest in a traditional frame, and instead hung on hinges designed to make the doors swing both ways before closing by themselves. Like the ones that led to restaurant kitchens. They also had no windows. Happily, this setup left a teeny gap between them and Zim wasted no time peeking though it to see if anyone was standing there, waiting to eat him.

There wasn't much to see. The room seemed fairly large, and filled with a number of high tables set up in what appeared to be double rows. Changing his angle, he could also see the opposite wall which, as far as he could see, was covered in squares. Regardless of how he looked through the gap, he could not see the light source, though it was definitely coming from the right. He couldn't see his blip either. Most importantly, there was no one standing in front of him. Now that he was this close, he had expected to hear more but the lab was still eerily quiet. Zim's antennae twitched. Just because he couldn't see or hear anything didn't mean there was nothing there. Very cautiously, he reached out and pushed at one door with a single digit until it began to ease open in teeny increments, watching through the gap all the while. Still nothing. No alarms. No boots. No jingly keys. No screechy hinges. So he kept pushing. When it had opened to about the width of his hand he could see more than just tables. There was a bank of active flatscreen monitors mounted from the ceiling and walls in the far corner, about where he'd presumed his blip to be. There were recessed fluorescent light boxes all across the ceiling, but a single incandescent fixture dangling next to a far door proved to be the sole source of illumination.

The sight of the door sent another rush of nerves coursing through him. Had he been spotted? Where did that door lead? Back out into the hallway? Maybe it was just storage! He frantically swung his head this way and that, fully expecting the white-clad scientist to be rushing toward him to take him apart.

There was no one there.

It didn't stop the unbidden image of himself strapped down to one of the tables inside, being dissected alive while the Professor cackled above him. 'Breathe. Breathing is good.' Zim began to count in his head. By the time he reached twenty nothing had changed, so he swallowed and pushed the door open a bit more. Every inch revealed more nothing. The walls were white to match the floors. There was a long desk beneath the monitors and he had also picked out a fire alarm box and a light switch. The door was now open enough that he could see a large cabinet standing on the same wall the doors were on. He would have to go into the room to see past it, lest the blip be lurking on the other side. Zim ooched. Oh how slowly he ooched. Halfway in. Three quarters. Still staring at the door, alternating between craning a look at the only corner he hadn't seen and whipping around to be sure the hallway was still empty behind him. Finally, finally, he could see around it, entirely inside the room with only a fingertip holding his door open.

It was clear. Zim sagged and released a whoosh of air, chiding himself for getting so worked up over the whole thing. Clearly the scanner needed calibrating. Or new batteries. The blip had moved on from the room, sure, but the other objects that had been picked up must have been errors as there was no one else in the room. In just over a minute he would be back upstairs, picking locks and swabbing for residues. He was even looking forward to going back outside.

BANG

Zim fumbled the door at the sound and scrambled to catch it as it swung closed before he was forced to hide behind a table as the door across the room opened with a loud, echoey click. His door swung out into the hall and back again without a sound. Whirling around in a panic he peeked wide eyes around the side of the table. The Professor was standing across the room, crisp white sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a heavy, plastic full-body apron tied around his waist. He was facing the monitor bank and as Zim panicked, bent over the desk to type something in on a keyboard. The monitors each flashed something different and after only a second, the largest of them lit up with a man's face partially hidden in shadow, the image flickering and rolling almost constantly.

"Your status report was due almost an hour ago." the man's deep, gravely voice all but boomed from the speakers, laced with thick static. The Professor adjusted a knob on the screen.

"The storm blew a transformer down the block. I have been running off the generator for three hours and I only just replaced the wiring in the dish." The Professor's response was calm and unconcerned as he straightened something on the desk in front of him, seeming to scribble a note down.

"That's hardly an excuse! Given the funding we're sinking into your program, a little rain should be no issue at all." The man on the screen sneered and adjusted his seat.

"You are quite aware of the equipment I have at my disposal at this location. Were I at my labs, it would not have been a problem. As it is, I was needed here, as you are also aware." Scribbling done, he straightened and focused his attention to the screen, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

The image on the screen rolled and turned three different shades of green before correcting. The man scoffed and Zim got the feeling that he didn't like the Professor all that much. "Which brings us to your report. It's been more than a month and you haven't made any progress whatsoever!" the man made a wild gesture of disbelief at the room. "The higher-ups are threatening to pull the plug on the entire operation because of this breach that your team was responsible for! Do you have any idea of the ramifications if this is made public?!"

The Professor interrupted what promised to be a lengthy rant "Of course I'm aware of the ramifications Lindell. Your position is not the only one at stake."

Lindell snorted, "You got that right. The only difference is that I can buy my way out of prison. I forget, how many felonies is it you're up to these days?" twirling a pen between his fingers, he offered a mocking smile.

Felonies? Prison?! Zim continued to panic in his hiding spot, not daring to move. Something very serious was going on and he was positive he had stumbled into something that he could not handle.

The conversation plowed onward. "That is and never has been any concern of yours." The Professor had a clear hint of agitation in his voice. It was obvious he found this Lindell person beneath him.

Lindell scoffed at the screen again. "Furthermore," the Professor continued, "it is no longer an issue. The subject has been captured."

The crow of triumph was cut off abruptly by another blare of static. "And when did this happen, you sly old bastard? If I knew any better, I'd have bet money you caught him days ago and have been sitting on it to watch me squirm." The man laughed and twirled the pen in ever fanciful maneuvers as he re-crossed his legs.

"And you would have to pay to get me to watch you do anything, Lindell." His voice dripping with disdain, the Professor reached down the desk and drug a stool across with a loud, metallic screech. His response only seemed to amuse Lindell further.

"At any rate, it's about damn time. I've had a nine state manhunt I can finally put to rest! You tell Drake I want that drive nuked before-"

"The drive was not with him."

Lindell froze and the only sound was the hiss of speakers.

"What do you mean "the drive wasn't with him"?! I thought you said this was over!"Lindell thundered, making Zim flinch and causing an impressive amount of feedback.

"Correction," the Professor folded his hands neatly and rested his head on them. "I said it is no longer an issue. The matter will be dealt with in due accordance-"

"I.. don't give a SHIT about "due accordance"! This isn't just about your little science project! That drive has enough intel to jeopardize more than a dozen off-the-books missions not to mention all of the stuff on Subsection B! Or are you really just protecting him?!" Lindell's shouting was spraying flecks of saliva onto the camera and Zim wondered who the hell they were talking about. "Awful convenient that he turned up without the one thing we were actually looking for! It could be weeks before he gives up its location, not to mention any copies and the names of anyone he showed it to! That brat of yours has been one problem after another, Pul-"

Zim's gasp was drowned by the response. 'Dib. They're talking about Dib!'

"DO NOT!" the Professor roared, the stool clattering to the floor as he surged to his feet, slamming his palms to the desk. After a long silence and a few heaving breaths, he continued in a much more even tone. "You know better than to use that name, Lindell. As for the situation, it will be dealt with "in due accordance" whether you like it or not. Regardless of the drive's current location, it will be found, and if you bothered to read your reports beyond the title page you would know that it cannot be viewed, let alone copied, without the use of the proper hardware. This is exactly the reason the Labs were left intact; they are the only location within six hundred miles where the drive can be accessed. He would not have returned without it and I have every available hand scouring the city. In the meantime, the subject is being transported to the Hills. The experiment has long been deemed a failure and upon the drive's recovery, it will be terminated. I will contact you in three days' time. Do not call me here again." Lindell scowled at the camera and made to continue before the Professor abruptly broke the transmission. With an angry sort of noise he swept a stack of papers up into his arms and strode from the room through the same door, slamming it hard behind him.

Zim trembled. So, so the Professor had Dib locked up somewhere? No no no, he was going to be locked up somewhere. He said something about transport. To the Hills? Zim had no idea where that was, but it sounded like it wasn't in the city. Oh this was bad bad bad bad bad. And what about this experiment they were talking about? Shuffling from his hiding space, he tried to stand on legs that wobbled from fear as much as lack of circulation. Finally in an upright position, Zim was able to see above the tables. All of them were empty, save for one.

Across the room, furthest from him, lay a human corpse, its ribs splayed open at the sternum. Zim backed against the wall, remembering his earlier vision, then frantically looked away as his PAK resumed the pulses of adrenaline. To the left, one of the squares he had seen was wide open, revealing a slab that slid deep into the wall.

It dawned on him now, what the readings the scanner had picked up on were. The room was full of humans, only most of them were dead. 'This is a morgue. This is a morgue oh fuck I have to get out of here!'

The journey back through the lab was twice as terrifying and upon reaching the top of the stairs, he turned and bolted to the kitchen. The sliding glass door was secured only with a pin and he ripped it from the socket with shaking hands before squeezing himself through the opening and back out into the storm. 'Have to close the door. Have to close the door. Have to close the door.' As soon as it was snug, he raced across the deck, tripping over a broken pot and flung himself around the corner. This time he really didn't give two shits about the mud as he hurdled the trash can that really had tipped over at some point, deployed his PAK legs and vaulted the fence, coming down hard in the soggy grass on the other side. He didn't have time to stop. Dragging himself up, he pushed through one of the bushes separating the yard from the next one and half slid/half limped to the sidewalk, digging through a pants pocket for his communicator to call Gir. He would never be able to remember exactly where he was when Gir picked him up, but he would never forget locking every window and door in the base before huddling in a nest of blankets with the little robot until morning.

Ohmygod I love Lindell and his magnificent assholery. Once the next few chapters are done, I'll come back and fiddle with this one. It's likely there are some inconsistencies.