2011-12-06 01:14![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fearofpiggies
fearofpiggiesThere were stories of great, hidden cities under the hills of Ireland. Places where the mortal mind would boggle at the immensity and strangeness of the world within. The stories told of fairies and their kingdoms, but the reality of this particular situation was not that of a young man being taken off the path by a dancing circle of frolicking sprites, nor that of a mortal kidnapping to an immortal world of splendor.
Well, it was a story of a young man being kidnapped and being pulled under a hill, but that's where the similarities ended.
Dib had spent the better part of a year being drugged and experimented on. In this hill in the remote countryside of Ireland was no fairy realm, but a subterranean laboratory of Irken design and manufacture. And somehow, through what have been a miracle, or simply the desire of Dib Membrane not to die being greater than the desire of the mad Irken, Zim wanting to kill him, he escaped.
But not without a great deal of disorientation. He found his way to the surface just as he heard the detonation of the bomb below him, and felt the ground shudder in a shockwave. Had he been in any sort of mentally healthy place, he would have celebrated this moment as the moment that he escaped almost certain death, again, and prevailed over the green alien scourge.
Had he had his wits about him, he also would have realized that it was a bitterly cold night, though lovely and clear, and that he was completely nude, save for the thick coat of slime that had accumulated over his body when he'd been left in the holding tank for a couple months straight.
But those were small matters. He knew that while he didn't know exactly how long he'd been down there, it had to have been a pretty long time. He felt like his legs had lost a great deal of strength, and he could barely keep himself from toppling over into the snow that laid on the forest floor. He could see lights in the near distance, and lights were good. They meant some manner of civilized life, and he had to get to them.
You know, if he could stop, um, slipping and catching himself on trees to keep from falling over completely. It seemed to be taking a while.
Well, it was a story of a young man being kidnapped and being pulled under a hill, but that's where the similarities ended.
Dib had spent the better part of a year being drugged and experimented on. In this hill in the remote countryside of Ireland was no fairy realm, but a subterranean laboratory of Irken design and manufacture. And somehow, through what have been a miracle, or simply the desire of Dib Membrane not to die being greater than the desire of the mad Irken, Zim wanting to kill him, he escaped.
But not without a great deal of disorientation. He found his way to the surface just as he heard the detonation of the bomb below him, and felt the ground shudder in a shockwave. Had he been in any sort of mentally healthy place, he would have celebrated this moment as the moment that he escaped almost certain death, again, and prevailed over the green alien scourge.
Had he had his wits about him, he also would have realized that it was a bitterly cold night, though lovely and clear, and that he was completely nude, save for the thick coat of slime that had accumulated over his body when he'd been left in the holding tank for a couple months straight.
But those were small matters. He knew that while he didn't know exactly how long he'd been down there, it had to have been a pretty long time. He felt like his legs had lost a great deal of strength, and he could barely keep himself from toppling over into the snow that laid on the forest floor. He could see lights in the near distance, and lights were good. They meant some manner of civilized life, and he had to get to them.
You know, if he could stop, um, slipping and catching himself on trees to keep from falling over completely. It seemed to be taking a while.
