Invader-Zims-BFFs

The eyes are the windows to the soul. Zim sat on the cold stone floor, his head resting on his crossed arms. He looked through half open eyes at the floor between his knees. Humans have a lot of weird ideas, he thought. Irkens didn't really have concepts like that. The soul was a completely human phenomenon. Zim had seen it many times: on greeting cards at the pharmacy, on balloons at the grocery store. But his first language was Irken--such human words meant nothing to him. The idea of a soul, something that gets left behind, something that captures the essence of one's life, really spoke to him in this moment. There was a puddle to the left of him. He was careful not to touch it as he peered in. He expected someone stronger, more resilient, more deserving of the Invader title. But all he saw was a skinny green alien sitting alone in a cell. The eyes in the reflection were desperate, and Zim turned away and pressed his head back into his arms. He couldn't bear to look at himself

Tak struggled in her restraints. "You can't keep me here forever!" She spat. Dib was holding her bracelet, looking at it with wonder. He turned his back on Tak and faced Gaz. "I don't know how this thing works." He put a hand on his hip. "It's all in Irken." "If only somebody here could read Irken," Tak called out. Dib turned to face her. "You know we can't let you go," he said softly, eyes sad. He shook his head and looked back at Gaz. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but...we need Gir." On cue, Gir burst through the frosted glass, covered in pink frosting. "THEY WERE HUNGRY!" He screeched. "GAZZY WAS RIGHT!" Gaz looked behind him. Dozens of stocky bodies clad in glowing blue armor were piled up in the street. Gaz grimaced. So much for keeping a low profile. "You couldn't have used the door?" Dib muttered, looking out through the broken glass. Tak chuckled. "It's only a matter of time now." Gir sped through the air and snatched the bracelet out of Dib's hands before he could stop

"Gaz, you have no plan," Dib said, standing up. He ran a hand through his hair and stepped towards her. "You don't know anything about the intergalactic criminal justice system." Gaz walked over to him, eyes bright. "We could make a plan." She turned to Gir. "Do you have a piece of paper?" Gir was still chanting. "Gir?" She asked again, a little more forcefully. Her cheeks were pink, and a part of her didn't want him to stop saying those magical words. But if the plan went well, she would hear them soon enough. Gir stopped and ran over to them. "Cupcake?" "No Gir," Gaz said, her face tight. "Paper. Paper to draw on." "Drawing?" Gir said excitedly. He jumped up and down. "I love drawing! I draw nice pictures for Master!" "No plans," Tak said, walking over to the three. "And NO paper." She narrowed her eyes at Gir. He whimpered. "But--" "No." "Draw--" "No! And I don't want to have to tell you again." She stared him down until Gir sadly lowered his head. "And she's good with kids..." Dib

The rain felt like acid on Gaz's skin, and she was momentarily thankful that Zim had bought her the thick coat. It felt and looked like leather, but she knew better than to check the tag. She couldn't read Irken anyway. The sky above was red as blood, with clouds tinged with darkness as black as pitch. Gaz ran through the Irken streets, now empty, calling out for Gir. She came across an overlook and put her hands on her knees, panting. The view was gorgeous, the giant Irken towers huddled up like children, all the purple bathed in a red glow. The rain shimmered, every drop like oil, turning the view into a Van Gogh painting. Gaz noticed she wasn't the only one enjoying it: Gir sat on a bench to the right of her. The rain slipped and slid around his small metal frame. His face was sad. "Gir," Gaz said. She stood awkwardly next to him, her hands in the soft pockets. She was sorry to say she didn't know the little robot very well. "I've been looking everywhere for you." Gir sat motionless