Oct 1, 2018
@exirkeninvader
AT YOUR EARLIEST CONVENIENCE. FORWARD ME A LIST OF ALL LIK-A-STICK FLAVORS YOU CAN THINK OF.
IT’S TIME FOR AN EXPERIMENT.
seen from Türkiye
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@exirkeninvader
AT YOUR EARLIEST CONVENIENCE. FORWARD ME A LIST OF ALL LIK-A-STICK FLAVORS YOU CAN THINK OF.
IT’S TIME FOR AN EXPERIMENT.
exirkeninvader replied to your post “AND I BLEW UP ALL OF SPACE. WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT IS WHAT I WANT TO...”
Did I ASK you? No. No, I didn't. Go back to sulking, demon.
DO YOU WANT A GOOD DOSE OF THE MOST MIND-RENDING, SOUL-SHRIVELING NIGHTMARES I CAN COOK UP, YOU INSECT? BECAUSE I CAN AND WILL MAKE THAT HAPPEN.
exirkeninvader replied to your post: what do you think of irkens
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Take me 1 on 1 SPACE TERMITE then SEE WHAT HAPPENS. I could DROPKICK you!
@exirkeninvader liked your post
What am I even fucking looking at here? Who buil--What built you?
Even under heavy stress from multiple sources, HER's machinations never required more than 25% of her true processing power. Activating that excess was unheard of, and overclocking it? Unthinkable. Unnecessary. That kind of attention wasn't warranted for anything in the universe.
Well, it wasn't, for the HER that had plucked that lonely Irken power signature from the tangled mess of Earthen feedback. Probably even for the HER that had snuck those quiet little bugs into the Invader's PAK, and the HER that crippled his base's computer in an attempt to force him to accommodate her whims.
But, for the HER that had willingly (eagerly?) sat through cinematic disasters next to him on the couch; that had sussed out his particular favorite flavor of fun dip, and a black market supplier; that had devised the most thorough and expedient method of deep cleaning the base for his benefit, and was content with just a “good work” in return; that had felt a first, fleeting moment of panic when she glimpsed that smoking crater in the Earth-- it was unquestionable.
And for the HER that had ruined his magnum opus, driven him away trying to keep him close, and spent entire days moping about in his absence... it was the least she could do.
“IRKEN ZIM, IDENTIFICATION NUMBER 82858284922, WE FIND YOU GUILTY ON ALL ACCOUNTS...”
The Control Brains’ synthetic, baritone voices rumbled through the cramped air vent that HER's body currently occupied. Come on, come on... she had all the systems here under her thumb, including the Control Brains, but their internal mechanizations were like a maze-- she just had to find her way to that one little switch...
“DELETE-O, initiate .PROTOCOL {D13-Z1M}.”
HER reflexively gritted her teeth at the sound of that voice.
“AFFIRMATIVE. INITIATING. D-1-3-Z-1-M.”
The cables snaking across the platform were unmistakably audible, even to her, as were the sounds of their connections that quickly followed. The crowd tittered excitedly, noise in the auditorium slowly growing as the spectacle reached its peak. Damn it, these Irkens moved fast when they wanted something done.
But HER moved faster.
“NO, NO, NO. I DON’T THINK SO.”
When the room was swamped in darkness, the screams of surprise and fear that left the civilian crowd were easy cover for the noise of an air vent breaking off its hinges-- and Zim’s shackles clattering to the ground. The smeets, in particular, were both alarmed and delighted by this unexpected turn of events, and contributed in no small part to the commotion of the enormous hall.
Four solid, bodily thuds (then, a few more?) hit the platform around Zim, followed by a firm but warm grasp on his wrist. The whispered voice at his side was terribly familiar.
“Can you run?” A genuine question, one which implied that she’d carry him out of here if she had to. The larger-than-life monitors that the Brains controlled flickered back to life one by one, each featuring the same cold green symbol, like the eye of a contemptuous god that had finally grown fed up with letting their unruly creations run amok.
“GREETINGS FROM MEDHA, TALLEST OF IRK. WERE IT MY CHOICE. YOU AND ALL OF YOUR SUBJECTS WOULD BE DEAD WHERE YOU STAND.”
HER’s booming voice on the PA system served as an adequate distraction while her actual body tugged demandingly on Zim’s arm. Awash in the dim green light of the displays, the bodies of the guards that had flanked him lay silent and unmoving on the platform... along with their very severed heads.
“Docking bay one. Ship is ready for launch.” Facing his palm upwards, HER placed a customized blaster in his grasp. “Let’s go.”
@exirkeninvader
@exirkeninvader
This was bad. Really bad.
HER had been spinning her wheels for a while in Zim’s employ-- trying, and failing, to devise some way to challenge his blind faith in his leaders. Not only had her sense of urgency increased the longer she spent as his assistant, but... Universe help her, for the first time in her 11.75 billion years of existence, she’d gotten attached.
She cared, and now look where that left her. She’d been hindering his progress for weeks, gumming up the works and slowing down everything she could manage, just to have a little more time-- a little more time to figure something out, anything that would make him see how much greater he could be without the empire pulling him down. How much better off he’d be, keeping HER around.
The irony wasn’t lost on her.
Neither was the inevitability of failure. Zim wasn’t dumb, she knew that, and despite the perfection of her calculations there was only so much that could be done before he either grew suspicious or caught her red-handed. Even while scrambling for a solution, she’d practically been counting down the hours before their partnership’s death knell-- and the timer was finally at 00:00.
As the door to the lab slid open to allow HER entry, she had the distinct feeling that she’d stepped into a room with an active bomb.
“Find anything useful?”
@exirkeninvader
NEXT TIME YOU SHOOT THE WING OFF OF A SHIP, AT LEAST LET ME RUN TRAJECTORY CALCULATIONS FOR THE DEBRIS FIRST.
exirkeninvader replied to your post: THE “BIRTHDAY” SLAVES ARE PERFECTLY QUEUED TO...
You what.
HUH? WHAT? I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT.