Zagr 5

      Gaz sat in her bedroom with her headphones in, scribbling on a page of math homework. "Stupid Dib.." she muttered to herself. Dib was being such a jerk. And what was Zim trying to do? She wasn't sure. She just wanted them both to stop acting like 4 year olds and get on with their lives. She went on with her homework when there was a knock on her bedroom door. "WHAT do you want?" Gaz growled, already knowing who it was.
      Dib slowly opened the door and stuck his head in the gap, still halfway in the hall if he needed to escape. "Gaz.." he said quietly, "I... I'm sorry," he muttered.
      Gaz looked up at him. "You're sorry?" Gaz smirked, "Yeah, whatever," she mumbled.
      "Gaz, I've been thinking.." Dib said, widening the door and stepping more into her room. Gaz gave him a warning glare not to come any closer. He stopped, "I think.. you're right. I mean Zim hasn't done anything evil for a while and.. maybe he isn't as bad as I thought he was," Dib stared at the floor, waiting.
      Gaz sighed, "Well you can only be sure if you actually talk to him for once. I mean, all you do is ramble on about some idiotic way you're going to destroy him. It gets very annoying after a while," she said, not looking at her brother.
      Dib sighed, "You're still mad at me, aren't you?" he said softly.
      Gaz looked up, "I still haven't figured that out yet," she frowned. Dib looked down. Gaz sighed,"Thanks for the apology anyway," she said. Dib looked up and grinned. He left her room closing the door behind him. Gaz sighed and started her iPod. Her thoughts went back to Zim and what he was doing right now.

      Zim paced back and forth in his lab, deep in thought. 'If I go through with this, I will become an outcast, lost. If they can't find my Pak signature, will they think I'm dead? Will they even care?' Zim sighed in confusion and frustration. Removing his Pak would remove all his programming from the Armada. His identity as a Foodcourtia droid would be deleted, and the Tallest wouldn't be able to find him in their programming. They wouldn't know what happened to him. Zim knew he would have to have his memory chip re-installed, but that wouldn't be a problem. Zim  had found a way to surgically implant all the machinery that kept him alive into his back. He would still have his memories, his thoughts and feelings. He would still be Zim. 'To destroy your Pak is against Irken authority. Any tampering or disabling with your Pak will result in your immediate termination.' Zim knew the rules. But if he went through with it, he wondered if the Tallest would come all this way to kill him. Would they even notice? Zim then thought back to all the times he had showed his plans to the Tallest. They never really had been interested in it at all. They wouldn't come to Earth even when they were the closest they had ever been. They never listened to him. He thought to all the times they had laughed behind his back, mocking him. All the other Irkens did that as well. 'I was already an outcast' Zim thought. Zim squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out all he was hearing. After years of calling, they stopped answering. His own world had cast him out, banished him, sent him away. He was just a joke to all of them! They had all betrayed him, he had had enough.
      "Computer!" Zim shouted. "Run the Pak removal sequence!"
      The computer's voice came on, sounding concerned, "Are you sure?" it asked.
      "Just do as I say!" Zim commanded. Robotic arms retracted from the walls; they fastened themselves into Zim's Pak and started prodding the parts loose. Zim shut his eyes and braced himself. A mechanical probe shot an electric bolt in the Pak, disabling the tubes. Zim's body quivered. The probes and claws continued to break the Pak apart, ribbing and cutting tubes and wires in half. As they shot another voltage of electricity, the Pak malfunctioned. It set off an emergency lock system and tightened itself into Zim's back. "Arggh.." Zim groaned. "Zim, the Pak's locking system has activated. Should I proceed?" the computer asked his master. Zim braced himself on his desk, "Do it," he said. The arms clamped into the core of the Pak where it attached onto Zim's back. With one hard jerk, the arms forcefully ripped the Pak off, snapping and twisted the tubes and wires apart. Zim yelled out in pain and fell to the floor. The arms continued to pull wires from Zim's back. Once they had installed his memory chip into a nerve the Pak had previously been attached to, they worked on repairing damage to vital instruments and tissue. Zim lied unconscious on the floor of his lab, blood running from his back.