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By your command Rae

Journal Entry: Fri Nov 6, 2015, 9:03 PM

:iconfortheloveofkei: commanded me to post this for commenting on her journal.

1. What animal/creature you remind me of.
2. What color I think fits you.
3. How I feel about you.
4. Insult you.
5. My favorite OC of yours.
6. What season you remind me of.
7. Tell you what food you smell like in my head.
8. Think of a random nickname for you.
9. What element you remind me of.
10. I'll command you to put this in your journal without using the words 'tag' or 'dare' or 'order'

Blood Sport Season Four: Dark Dweller

He or she who treads the edge of the Deep takes it unto themselves to bear the burden of shedding blood so that others may live in peace. For the sake of others they shall cast themselves far from the warmth and light and do battle with the terrors who lay beyond the threshold and plunge into the abyss itself. – Tharol C’eval, the First Dark Dweller  


Medinae, Unknown Regions

The Infarai had built homes across many worlds that were unknown to the universe at large. They mainly consisted of small farming settlements and larger structures built on the ocean floor. Deep beneath the violent and foaming waters of what had been called the Emerald Sea one of these colonies was spread out over several thousand yards and reached hundreds of meters beneath the ocean floor, allowing for thousands of the amphibious recluse to live comfortably. In the council chambers resting at the top of the largest structure in the heart of the compound a wide window gave the seated elders a view of the paradise they had managed to carve out, of Infarai young chasing one another or playing with the native aquatic life forms and warriors training in what an outside would describe as a chaotic mess as combat staves clashed and combatants maneuvered in all directions to strike form any angle that provided an opportunity.

“Blood Sport?” One of the elders, a woman, spoke up with a mixture of interest and scepticism. “The name alone is a perfect indicator of just what to expect from the Irkens.”

Another elder grimaced in distaste as he examined the contents of a data pad, showing the research that had been put into this so called Blood Sport. “And this is only one of numerous ‘reality television shows’ that is broadcasted across the known universe for the entertainment of trillions.” He said with a disgusted scowl. “They hire or conscript many to participate in battles to the death with the promises of riches, and many who join are not even true warriors; many times even children are permitted to join and suffer atrocious deaths!”

Seated in the middle of the semi circle of Infarai seated on raised seats was a larger specimen of the male Infarai gender, bearing the wounds accumulated from many battles-including a missing eye and wearing formal clothing which stretched from his bulk. This high elder tapped one claw tip against his desk, generating an echo in the otherwise silent room as he stared at a hologram displaying an advertisement. It had been picked up by one of their agents on a distant world by chance, and the operative had seen fit to inform them of their discovery.

And it was just as well that they had.

“A promise of anything that the Empire can provide within reason,” The high elder recited the fine print at the bottom of the flyer. “How wonderfully vague and easy to interpret at one’s own convenience.”

“Then perhaps we should simply ignore it.” The female elder from before suggested, “We are still safe from the Empire, as are all of our sister colonies across the cosmos. What need do we have of this Blood Sport, supposing that the prize that it offers is genuine?”

The High Elder raised his hand to his chin and stroked his scales as he pondered this. “There is one thing,” He answered, his golden eyes still locked on the flyer, “A guarantee of eternal safety in the event that we are ever discovered.”

“But High Elder, in the centuries that we have colonized this galaxy the empire has not once managed to find empirical evidence of our existence!” Another elder protested.

“And it is foolish to presume that that will never change.” The High Elder rumbled, rising up out of his chair and allowing his intimidating bulk to inflict silence on his colleagues before anymore could blurt out arguments. “We have always known that one day the empire might find a whiff of us, be it from one of our own turning traitor for profit or through mere chance. The fact that we have managed to remain hidden for so long is both a miracle and an achievement, but every day we hear of new threats and new leaks in information…and it is only a matter of time before one day one of our operatives misses their mark, and when that comes our only protection shall be torn aside as the Irkens cast light upon us and clap slave collars around the necks of our youngest and strongest.”

The High Elder stepped down from his chair with only moderate difficulty, the years having been unkind to his health. Once he stood in the centre of the circular chamber he addressed the other Elders once more. “Some have suggested we seek a truce with them, as the Planet Jackers and Spartinians have. Others have suggested we use our ingenuity and technology to conquer them.” He shook his head and added firmly, “We are not conquerors, and we will not treat with those whose word cannot be trusted. But according to the research conducted regarding this death tournament-this…Blood Sport, the promise of the Irken leaders is iron clad and guaranteed before the whole universe in order to ensure that they never have a shortage of prospective contestants.”

“But are we truly so desperate as to send one of our own to die?” The female Elder whispered, shaking her head. “Who among our Dark Dwellers should have to die for so faint a hope?”

Raising his head to meet her gaze, the High Elder’s lips curled into a smirk and parted to show a glint of his fangs. “I know exactly who would be willing to undertake this task for us.” He answered, “And you all know him too: he is our sharpest blade in the darkness and the first outsider to tread the edge of darkness.”

He returned to his seat and tapped the holographic interface being projected from the arm rests. “Contact Rush,” The High Elder commanded, “We have a proposition that must be answered as soon as possible.”


Purgatau City Lower Districts, Purgatau, Sheda-Drak System

Purgatau was a place long devoid of hope, of life itself. Long ago it's ecosystem had been compromised beyond any hope of repair, and now the only thing allowing its billions of inhabitants to survive the open air was the powerful filtration field covering the single mega city which scarred the world’s largest continent. It was the epitome of wasteful, poisoning the husk of a planet even further and somehow managing to limp on despite how the universe would likely wish for it to be left to burn if given the chance for a popular vote.

Within the city there were tens of thousands of colossal structures, the largest of which reached up high enough for one to literally watch starships come and go. The smallest were still usually kilometres tall, and the only structures more minuscule than that were located down in the Lower Districts, the area beneath the gleaming upper district’s platforms, hanging streets and glistening towers of glass and cool metal which stood atop the corpse of a city and was miles above what used to be the surface of Purgatau.

Beggars and homeless lived among muck and garbage in the lowest reaches while those who were luckier managed to etch out a decent enough living in the higher portions of the lower half of the city. There were numerous levels of streets and buildings forming a labyrinth unto itself and allowed for large structures to be constructed such a warehouses.

On one particular sub level there was a large storage area open to the skies which could just barely be made out. The floor was entirely metal from the edge of the area overlooking a steep drop to the filthy lowest streets below all the way to a large warehouse which overlooked the whole area. Crates of varying size ranging from those small enough for a man to fit into to those large enough to carry a small starship were packed into numerous blocky rows.

Flashes of blaster rifles lit up the dock area, bolts of super heated after splattered against metal and stone, leaving melted and scorched circles in their wake. The wielders of these weapons were enforcers of one of the countless criminal organizations who called Purgatau (aka:  ‘Ass End of Space’) home. Each was decently trained and adequately supplied with equipment of acceptable standards, and for the past few months their operations had gone well both thanks to the power of anonymity and their own ability to deal with the thugs of other neighbouring groups who were stupid enough to trespass.

That is, all had gone well until now.

Whoever the attacker was, he'd proven to be too fast for them to close in on and too strong for one of them to take on alone…or even for two or three as other teams had learned.

This very lesson was being learned by one unfortunate Irken who had the misfortune to be split off from his team in the rush to catch the intruder. Immediately his rifle had been kicked from his hands before he could even lock onto his target, and a blow to his throat left him all but helpless as the intruder quickly delivered several more precise jabs and hooks to his torso with lightning speed and the accuracy of a surgeon. The hired thug fell to his knees, wheezing as he looked up at the imposing shape of his attacker just before the individual spun and cracked him in the side of his head with a kick from their heel.

Just as the assailant had finished he heard the rushed footsteps of another approaching gang enforcer from around a corner several feet away. Just as the guard stepped into view the hooded intruder swiped one arm across his neck, moving so fast that the guard never even saw the knife until it was sheathed. The now dying Planet Jacker dropped his weapon and fell backwards, a gurgling noise escaping from him as he drowned in his own blood.

More were already coming, but in the moments between the Planet Jacker’s demise and their arrival at the scene the hooded killer had already vanished into the labyrinth of metal.

“Lost contact!” One of the soldiers called out, their voice filtered by their helmet speakers. “All units, stay alert. The son of a bitch just pops out of nowhere, so watch your corners and get lights up!”

“The spot lights are down, same with the regular lights!” Another enforcer frantically scanned his surroundings as he strode past rows of crates, trying to spot any movement. “How many Did he get?”

A calmer voice answered. “Got two of my boys, and I know he got at least two more.”

The enforcer, a moth like Lepidopteran who was more visibly nervous than his fellows tightened his grip on his rifle when thunder rumbled overhead, and droplets of water began to splatter all around him.

“Who the hell is this guy?” He whispered, picking up the pace as he made his way to where he knew several other guards were regrouping in the centre of the storage yard, which would give them plenty of open space for them to spot the intruder even with the dark clouds and the natural dim lighting of the Lower Districts-a consequence of the warehouse being located only a few hundred meters up from the original ground level in a city full of towers which stretched up into orbit.

Up ahead he spotted two other shapes and recognized them as other members of his shift. The Lepidopteran jogged towards them as they swept their surroundings with flashlights. He raised one arm to wave and opened his mouth to call out just before a set of hands grasped his head from behind and twisted it, generating an audible snapping noise.

The pair of guards spun and set their lights on the insectoid guard just as his body collapsed, his head twisted around so that even while his body lay face down his face was still staring up at the sky.

There was no sign of the person responsible, but they'd grown used to that after the last two or three corpses they'd stumbled upon moments after the fact.

One of the guards, this one a blue skinned humanoid known as a Kvetchian swore. “Shit, another one down!” He scanned for the culprit. “This guy’s picking us apart. How long until that relief tea, gets here?”

“There!” The other guard, an Irken, pointed up. “I see the drop ship!”

The duo watched as a set of spotlights grew closer, revealing a small gunship which began to descend towards the middle of the yard where there was enough room to land. However, as it made its final approach nobody spotted a figure scale the side of the warehouse and crouch on the roof top.

As the aircraft passed close by the figure dashed forward and launched itself into the air with a powerful kick, its momentum carrying it far enough that it was able to latch onto the side of the ship. Several soldiers in the troop compartment heard the noise of something striking the side of their transport and began to look around cautiously.

“This is Fury 47, preparing to drop reinforcements.” The pilot announced, unaware of the new stowaway as he opened the rear hatch and exchanged a nod with his copilot. “Go get him boys-.”

Before he could finish his sentence the front canopy was suddenly covered by a form. The pilot looked up and saw only the outline of the intruder and a gleam of green eyes before a blaster was fired right through the canopy and into both of the pilots. The drop ship suddenly lost control and began to spin, but as soon as his work was complete the intruder dropped. The ship had been over fifty feet up, but when he landed atop a stack of cargo crates the kinetic energy of the impact was absorbed and safely dispersed, leaving him unharmed.

The drop ship on the other hand ploughed nose first into the ground only thirty feet away from the two surviving enforcers and then exploded. The detonation scattered shrapnel all over and generated a wave of force powerful enough to knock the two guards clean off their feet.

One of them, the Irken, was slammed against a wall hard enough to shatter every bone in his body. The Kvetchian got off lucky, depending on one’s perspective, due to his stronger skeletal structure and his flight not making him hit a wall, instead he merely slid a few dozen feet.

“Nnngh…” The Kvetchian slowly got up after several moments, his head spinning and his body swaying from side to side as he tried to find his balance.

It only took a few more seconds for him to regain his senses and steady himself. The last surviving guard looked at the site of the crash as a pillar of smoke rose and the fire lit up the previously dim yard while the rain pounded down from above to extinguish it.

He could hardly believe that he'd just survived that relatively intact. “Holy shit,” The Kvetchian chuckled, “Wow.”

Too soon to celebrate though. He was now the last one standing-not that he'd miss his colleagues, but he appreciated the idea of having a few meat shields between him and the crazy bastard who'd managed to tear apart the whole unit.

His luck had not yet run out, fortunately for him. Over the rain and the roar of the Flames the enforcer heard the splat of foot steps in the puddles that had formed. He spun around and caught sight of a figure charging him from behind thanks to his wider field of view. Before he even finished the spin the Kvetchian had time to go for a weapon.

Most would try for their sidearm, but Kvetchians were trained from a young age to act as fighters for the sake of their tribe. He instinctively knew that the assailant would be too close for a gun and instead whipped out his plasma knife. The energy hissed with steam as it ignited, and the Kvetchian brought it around in a back handed swing which forced the hooded figure to stop short and lean back out of range. The green glow of the blade briefly illuminated the face beneath his hood, showing an Irken in the brief moment of visibility.

The Kvetchian hissed and lunged forward, swinging and stabbing wildly but with a sort of precision in his attacks. The hooded Irken back peddled, using careful footwork to keep himself just out of reach of the blade but close enough for the Kvetchian to make another jab at. After the fifth attempted slice he instead moved in close and brought up one arm, positioning his forearm so that the Kvetchian’s knife arm was blocked by it only for the dagger to drop out of his grip and into his free hand. The knife sliced upwards and barely nicked the irken’s hood, which didn’t catch fire the way most fabrics would.

Gripping the Kvetchian’s now unarmed hand by the wrist, the Irken tugged him in close and grabbed him by the bicep, heaving the blue skinned alien off of the ground and throwing him. The thug landed inelegantly in a heap, but kept his grip on the glowing knife and scrambled to his feet as the Irken closed in again. This time the enforcer would swing only to miss completely and be struck two times in the ribs as the Irken weaved around his attack.

Infuriated, the Kvetchian flipped his knife around in his grip and spun around to jam the blade deep into his opponent’s chest. The irken’s hands grasped his knife arm and held it straight out, twisting the limb to force the Kvetchian to drop the blade and then forcing the thug down only to meet his face with a knee strike that caused blood to spurt from between misaligned and now red teeth.

The Irken took it a step further by twisting the arm behind his opponent’s back and held it with one hand while the other reached beneath his coat and produced a blaster. A whine filled the air as the gun quickly charged up.


The Kvetchian had been too nauseous after that blow to the face to put up enough resistance. When the blaster fired at point blank range a bolt of super heated plasma exploded out through his chest cavity. His body went limp and fell face first into a puddle which quickly ran with the alien’s blood.

Standing over his final victim, the hooded Irken known as Rush exhaled.

That last one had been more trouble than he needed to be. Every second asked fighting him was another that allowed for a second drop ship to be deployed by the gang that owned this territory. He was already behind schedule as it was, and his task was too important to waste on hired help.

Rush holstered his blaster and then confirmed that the area was clear before silently reciting a quick prayer for the dead. Even if they were scum who had sold their services for money and had done harm to others, even he was not so cruel as to send them off to the darkness without a good word to the spirits to not be overly harsh on them in the next world. With the prayer complete he made his way towards one of the larger crates which lay in the heart of the storage yard and examined the computerized lock keeping it shut.

For most this would be an obstacle. For Rush it meant having to pull his knife back out again. He cleaned blood from the blade by holding it out and letting the rain handle the matter before pressing his thumb to an area of the hilt where a hidden biometric scanner registered his print and activated his Shock Blade’s hidden function. An energy field coated Rush from head to toe, causing electricity to crackle around him as it was conducted by water. Rush himself was safe from the effects of the energy field, which he dubbed a Shock Shield, and there was no one else left alive in the yard to be put at risk by the electrical current.

The blade now dug into the thick metal as easily as a knife cutting a slice out of a block of butter. Rush knew he was on a timer as an unfortunate design flaw that was inherent in the Shock Blade and made sure to work quickly. He cut a square section out of the crate with four strokes of his knife and then kicked the section dead center to make it slide inwards and clatter to the floor inside the crate.

The energy field dissipated moments later, and the Shock Blade entered its recharge cycle where it was only as useful as any other knife. Rush sheathed it again and carefully climbed into the crate…where he was met with the sight of an Infarai so far from home, tied to a chair, stripped naked and butchered from head to toe. This individual had been the victim of many forms of torture in his last minutes of life, and this fact only made Rush’s despair all the greater as he took in the sight of a man who he had been practically raised alongside.

Yaro had been a Dark Dweller, much like Rush himself. Both had been chosen to be the personal guardians and assassins devoted to the protection of their people. Days ago Yaro had gone silent during a mission and had been presumed captured…

Rush prayed that the extent of the dead Infarai’s injury were an indicator of his refusal to divulge information.

Reaching forward, Rush closed Yaro’s clouded over eyes and uttered a muted prayer for his fallen brother.

-May you be carried home by the Current and be returned to the Deep from which we all are born.- Rush’s mouth formed the words despite how he could produce no sound from his throat. –And may we all one day join you there, beloved brother.-

With the prayer out of the way, that left just one thing: disposing of the body.

And it was a tradition among Infarai culture for the bodies of Dark Dwellers to be burnt instead of put out to sea.

How convenient.


Later, Rush returned to his ship with a canister cradled to his chest, filled with the ashes of the deceased Dark Dweller formerly known as Yaro. He set the canister in a safe spot where it would not be knocked over or damaged if anything were to happen before he returned it to Medinae. He then peeled away his coat and took his time making his way to the washroom, his body sore from the hours spent traversing Purgatau’s repulsive underworld, combatting numerous gang members and even taking a few good hits here or there.

Once he was done cleaning up Rush laid himself down on his back and laced his fingers across his stomach, inhaling deeply as he prepared to put an end to what had been a long and…tragic day. A rescue mission turned into a cover up was never pretty, and for it to be a good friend of his too…

New message received from High Elder.” A synthesized female voice announced, rousing Rush back from his state of partial slumber. “Priority Zero.
That made Rush practically leap out of bed and rush to his communicator, heedless of the fact that he was naked from the waist up. He accepted the call with his Holo-Interface and knelt down on one knee as a semi circle of holographic images appeared around him, representing the Council of Elders from Medinae.

Rise, Dark Dweller.” High Elder Zaviorn gestured. “We have received word of your success, and the unfortunate fate of Yaro.” The council bowed their heads in unison as Rush stood up, his hands clasped behind him. “We understand if you require time to mourn his passing, Rush, but we are obligated to bring a matter of grave importance to your attention. This could potentially affect the very future of every one of our colonies throughout the universe.

Rush took a slow breath before signing his response to the council, affirming that he was ready and able to perform whatever mission they had for him.

As you know, we have a policy of never attempting communication or negotiations with powers such as the Irken Empire, however we have discovered the existence of an event which provides an exception.” Zaviorn explained. “No doubt you have heard of it, the death tournament known as Blood Sport.

Oh Rush had definitely heard of that, and how it had three seasons of blood, carnage and tragedy. Dozens dead, many more mourning their passing, and the winner receiving a reward of anything that they desired from the Empire in addition to a whole planet. Rush already suspected where this conversation would lead, and immediately signed a response.

-You wish for me to join Blood Sport and win.-

Zaviorn nodded. “And in doing so you can have the Empire declare a promise to the universe that all Infarai colonies, worlds and peoples shall be protected from the influence of the Irken Empire and its allies and granted a treaty. This could be a chance to end the necessity for our people to remain in hiding, Rush. Just like on our long lost home world we could construct vast cities and infrastructure to improve the lifestyle of our people and remove all population control policies.

This was a bold move for a lone colony to make, and Rush doubted the thousands of other colonies would agree to this so easily…but Zaviorn had made it clear that he preferred asking for forgiveness instead of permission.

As with all of your assignments, you are under no obligation to undertake this so long as other Dark Dwellers are willing to volunteer.” The female council member informed him. “Several have already expressed their willingness to do so, but you are without a doubt our most effective right hand.

Rush knew that they were trying to pretty it up, to make it seem less…imperative. But his mind was already made up, with or without their efforts.

-Say no more, honoured elders.- Rush knelt again and bowed his head. –I shall join this tournament, and I promise you that I shall win.-

Zaviorn smiled. “We have no doubt of that, Rush.” He said, “You have always contributed the most to the safety of our people…and if you succeed then you may consider this the final time that you shall have to answer our call.

Rush’s eyes widened as he realized what Zaviorn meant. Most Dark Dwellers served for life, some retired after training a replacement…but it was rare for one to be released from service on honourable grounds so early in their lifetime. This meant he would be free of his vows, he could see his parents and siblings again…he could come home and stay there if he wished it.

He clenched one hand into a fist and held it to his chest as he stood up with a firm nod.

Entry into Blood Sport is by either voluntary entry or invitation…officially anyways.” The female elder said. “We are already arranging for a drone affiliated with the tournament to be rerouted to your position tomorrow. Once it arrives you will be issued an invitation and be provided with teleportation to the exact location of the tournament…and by that point you will be beyond our ability to help or even contact.

Rush had endured worse stakes and conditions, and he knew the council was well aware of this and so withheld any response save for another nod to acknowledge these terms.

Zaviorn was pleased by this. “Good. You will have all of tonight to prepare and recover.” He said. “We wish you luck, Dark Dweller…and know that regardless of whether this works or not you will be remembered for this even ten thousand years from now for your bravery and sacrifice.

The High Elder bowed his head deeply in respect. “May the Current carry you safely back to us.” The rest of the council mimicked this, and then their images vanished, leaving Rush alone with his thoughts in the dark.

A chance to change everything, a chance to ensure the protection of his people for an eternity…

No pressure, right?


Bio-signature verified.

It was a sunny morning on Purgatau, the first good weather since Rush had arrived. He was cleaned and freshly supplied for his new mission.

The drone had been waiting for him to step out of his ship, floating several feet off of the landing platform.

Irken designate ‘Rush’, you have been extended a formal invitation to the latest season of Blood Sport as a competitor.” The drone informed him, using a synthesized male voice with subtle illusions of personality and tone added in to make it sound like a person just speaking in a matter of fact manner. “If you require further information, you may make any inquiries immediately.

Rush shook his head and raised his right arm, palm up, and activated his holo-interface. It glowed blue as it appeared around his forearm and over his palm, enveloping the limb in a holographic gauntlet. He created a text window with it for the drone to observe and typed in his response.

I have no questions. I accept the invitation.-

“The Irken Empire acknowledges and praises your willful cooperation.” The drone said, using its own built in projectors to create a hologram in the shape of a panel with a single hand print shape on it. “Please apply your hand for biometric scan and transport.

Rush dismissed his interface and reached out, placing his hand perfectly within the outline on the panel. It glowed as it scanned him, registering him in Blood Sport’s archives as a competitor.

Scan complete.” The drone announced as a pillar of blue light began to form around them both. “Welcome to Blood Sport, Rush.

Rush was consumed and vanished, being instantaneously transported across the galaxy to the preset destination. The moment he reappeared he knew he would immediately be pitted against another person. Perhaps they would be an innocent, or maybe a cold blooded killer who joined for money.

No pressure, right?



Blood Sport Season Four: Dark Dweller
Here's my entry for :iconthe-bloodsport: with my silent assassin, Rush! Bloodsport Season 4 Application: Rush by Irken-Risk 

I keep picturing the voice of the drone that is paired with Rush as the voice of Peter Dinklage from when he was the voice actor for the Ghost in Destiny-and I go against the popular opinion and say he did an amazing job with that...even if Nolan North is also doing pretty good as the Ghost now.

I do not own Invader Zim
Bloodsport Season 4 Application: Rush by Irken-Risk
Bloodsport Season 4 Application: Rush
Basic Information:
Name: Rush (short for another name, as of yet unknown)

Species: Irken

Age: 30 Irken/300 Human

Gender/Sex: Male

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Political Standing With The Empire: While the Infarai have never entered into war with the Empire, Rush opposes it for the threat it poses to his adopted people.

Home Planet: Formerly Medinae, the planet where his home colony is hidden

Personal Information:
History: The following has not been disclosed to the crew.

Rush was born with a physical defect which left him mute. As a result he was scheduled for termination and was on route aboard a Defect Smeetery vessel which was intercepted by pirates and made an emergency FTL jump only to go off course and crash onto the world known as Medinae, which was not occupied or even known to the universe at large and only had one population centre on it: a secret colony of the reptilian and amphibious Infarai who investigated the crash. They found Rush alive among the wreckage along with other smeets and chose to adopt rather than kill them, accepting them as part of their society. Rush was raised as a farmer by his family, but when he was 13 he was given a unique opportunity by the Colony's Elders: to become a Dark Dweller, an assassin in with the mandate of preventing the existence of the Infarai from being discovered by hostile factions throughout the universe.

Rush knew that this was seen as an honour beyond all others and accepted it to protect his family and people from outside threats. He was separated from his family and trained extensively for five years by previous Dark Dwellers until he was deemed ready for active service. He made his first kill on Irk, slaying an Irken Admiral who had purchased information from a rogue Infarai concerning the location of an Infarai colony, and then killed the informant for his betrayal. Rush would spend the next twelve years racking up a body count in the thousands as he undertook assignments from the Elders, who instituted a new policy allowing for multiple Dark Dwellers to operate out of each colony to lighten the work load. As a result Rush found himself with more free time than usual and was only called upon for major situations.

Past Occupations: Farmer

Current Occupation: Assassin

Personality: Rush is a very methodical and analytical individual who retains control of his emotions under most circumstances. He sees his inability to talk as an advantage, as it 'allows him to listen closely without the sound of his own voice to interfere' and allows him to think out his responses when he signs or types them. He is usually a good natured and even friendly person who will not reject social interaction, but will not seek or encourage any romantic development.

Relationships: Rush has a mother and a father along with over a dozen siblings, all of whom he cares for deeply but has not seen since accepting the position of Dark Dweller. He is also close friends with Xavia despite having not spoken to her in years.

Likes: Tea, Xavia, his family, exercising, cooking in his off time, archery as a hobby, video games as a guilty pleasure, animals.

Dislikes: Liars, slavers, the Empire, bigotry, people who prioritize profit over the wellbeing of others, badly made tea, wasteful behaviour.

Phobias: Rush often has nightmares about Medinae being discovered and his family being massacred or enslaved by the Irken Empire. It remains his number one fear of the future.

Strengths: Rush is highly talented all around in multiple forms of combat, but mainly excels in martial arts. He is competent with blisters and blades along with numerous other forms of weaponry both ranged and up close. In addition he is proficient at avoiding detection and silently dispatching foes non/lethally, and is fluent in several primary languages to facilitate communication. As a result of him being mute he is less likely to make noise.

Weaknesses: While his muteness is a strength it is also a weakness which prevents him from actively alerting others with a simple shout. He mainly has experience against foes smaller or the same size as him who are only lightly protected. He also is not equipped for long range combat and lacks armour capable of reliably blocking projectiles.

Talents: Rush has had to act as his own medic, Gardner, helmsman, navigator and, engineer & weapons maintenance officer over the course of his career. While he is not a full expert by any means in any of these fields he is proficient enough to keep himself and his ship in working order.

Reference Image:

Clothing: Leather boots, dark brown pants with black on the inner thighs of the legs, black long sleeved shirt with attached gloves, long dark brown coat with a built in hood.

Special Accessories: His Holo-Interface (think Omni-Tools from Mass Effect) which allows him to type messages, transmit information, record data and scan his environment among other functions. His clothing is made of a special material called Impact Weave, which absorbs kinetic impacts such as punches, long fall or blows from blunt weapons but is not as effective at blocking bullets, blades, spikes or throwing weapons

Scars: Rush has amassed numerous scars over the years while both training and taking on assassination missions.

Pak: His PAK is silver with teal dots instead of pink.

Weapon Of Choice: A ninjato inspired sword.

Secondary Weapons: A curved knife called a Shock Blade which generates an energy field around itself and Rush, allowing him to both withstand stronger attacks and cut through tougher materials and thick armour-this field only remains for fifteen second set to times and takes two minutes to recharge.

He also wields a pair of concealed blaster pistols good for firing up to thirty shots of super heated matter before needing a replacement henergy cell. Rush has two spare energy cells for each blaster.

Hand-To-Hand Style: Rush has acquired types of martial arts from numerous worlds, so his fighting style could be called a form of Mixed Martial Arts that allow him to shift his strategy on the fly in the middle of a battle. He favours powerful kicks and a mixture of knee, palm and elbow strikes aimed at joints and sensitive areas along with throwing certain opponents while holding them in an arm lock to throw them off balance and leave them struggling for breath.

Other Details:
He is mute and hides his background information very carefully.

-Medical supplies for treating minor or moderate injuries
-His gloves and boots have a special function allowing them to create an electrostatic bond with another surface by their palms and soles respectively.
-Food supplies in the form of nutrition bars

art by :iconskarita:


Mature Content

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 in the Dark

The Syndicate and the Raiders have suffered a defeat at the hands of the Irken Empire, and their leaders have lost a close friend to Tallest Candidate Blue. While Wrath has chosen to forgo pursuing to rescue Donthar to avoid putting the now enslaved Vortian at risk he refuses to allow this offence to pass without punishment. To this end he dispatches an assassin to execute a revenge hit against one of those responsible for the events that had occurred so that the Empire will know just how far his reach extends.


Three months after the events of ‘Hell in a Hand Basket’

Irk, Capital District

Irk was a planet that never slept. At every moment of the day if there weren’t tens of millions of vehicles clogging the skyline of the vast city-planet there would still be lights illuminating the streets below, floating bill boards advertising some new service or even patrolling military ships-and there were a lot of those. Because of this Bizz had to sleep the same way every other resident of Irk did: with their windows blocked off by special shutters which plunged her apartment into pure darkness. This only made it harder for the lone occupant to fumble around in the darkness for her communicator when it went off, rousing the Irken from her slumber. Even as she grasped the device Bizz shrank back under her covers, pulling them tightly around her against the brisk cool air which was generated from her setting the temperature settings to low-another necessity for comfort, given how much heat could accumulate in the average structure.

Good morning officer Bizz, your presence has been requested by,” A synthesized female voice began before changing into a familiar tone belonging to a certain snooty aristocrat, “Tallest Candidate Blue,” It then returned to its original voice, “At their personal estate regarding a failure in financial transaction to your account.

“Say WHAT?!” Bizz bolted upright into a sitting position, scattering the heavy covers around the bed as she held the communicator up to her mouth. “What kind of crap is this?!”

The synthesized voice continued on pleasantly, “In the event of outraged and indignant screaming, we here at the Irken Ministry of Pre-Recorded Communications remind you that this is a semi-interactive recorded message and not the source of your anger.” It informed her, “Remember: don’t shoot the messenger!

Beyond words by this point, the irritated woman flung the communicator against the wall so hard it shattered and climbed out of bed. She had only returned from a mission several hours ago, a mission which had lasted an entire week and had placed her in the dense jungles of some border world where Teivol had dragged her on his usual manhunt for the Raiders. It was for this exact assignment that she was supposed to receive another healthy amount of credits from Teivol’s husband that would go towards the money she still owed for this very apartment. To hear this inconvenient strawberry being placed on top of a mess of stress and fatigue was just about the straw that broke the camel’s back for Bizz.

She quickly changed into her uniform and remotely called her sky car to her as she stepped out onto the apartment’s personal landing pad. In under three minutes after receiving the automated call she was in the air and on her way towards the palace. Glaring lights and the enduring loud noise of countless vehicles on all sides caused Bizz’s headache to kick back in, leading to her shutting the roof and setting her car to automatic pilot while she laid back and rubbed circles into her temples with her fingertips.

Sometimes Bizz wondered if it was still worth it all, working for Blue and Teivol. After they had gone and lost the prisoner she had delivered to them, almost literally gift wrapped with the amount of restraints that had been clapped on her by the time Bizz had delivered her, Bizz had found herself being cheated of a promised reward simply because a bunch of guards had been too incompetent to transport one comatose woman a few thousand miles. She had been about ready to declare herself defective before Blue had come forward with an offer: work for them full time and he would handle paying her wage, which was a good deal higher than what she usually made. For every mission she received a huge bonus which had gone in to paying for her new apartment, the car and many other luxuries to numb the pain of how annoying her employers could be at times.

Speaking of which...the ride had passed faster than expected, she was already pulling into the palace hangar where her vehicle was automatically checked off as it landed. Bizz climbed out and took a deep breath as she made her way past some wide awake security guards who likely had had twice as long to sleep as her- a fact which caused her to fling mental curses at everybody she passed on her way to the room here she knew she would find the two walking hormone sacs she called her employers: their ‘secondary’ bedroom, one they used for their more intimate activities while their main one was at least child friendly-as it turned out one of them had somehow morphed into a woman and been knocked up in short order and now they were taking steps to ‘smeet proof’ some of the rooms in preparation of their little abomination.

Bizz reached the double doors and knocked three times, waited a few moments and then banged on it furiously.

“Hey now, what are you doing?” A voice caught her attention, leading Bizz to look over her shoulder at a patrol of guards who had spotted her.

After she quickly flashed her ID badge, which marked her as one of Teivol’s personal security team, Bizz explained herself. “I received a summons from Tallest Candidate Blue. He’s ordered me here to work out some problem with a payment to my account that bounced.”

The guards exchanged a few looks before Bizz produced her personal data pad and showed them a recording of the call she had received earlier along with a time stamp on it.

“It sounds legit,” One of them commented, “But we have one problem.”

Bizz groaned and one hand on her head to brace for her latest road block. “What’s that?” She asked in despair.

The guard leader opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by a sudden noise coming from within the room beyond. It had been the sound of a solid object hitting the floor with a loud ‘thud’. Immediately the entire patrol raised their weapons while one of the soldiers pulled Bizz out of the way.

“Blue and Commander Teivol aren’t due back for three more hours from their trip.” The leader said grimly as his men took up positions on either side of the door. “Call for reinforcements, we might have a breach.”

Most would consider this jumping the gun, but Teivol had been insistent that the palace remain at the highest level of security short of being on full alert even in the absence of its most important occupants.

One of the guards reached for his radio only to receive static. “Sir, I can’t get through.” He informed the Irken Sergeant.

“Then start running to the nearest security station and inform them of our potential situation,” The Sergeant responded and then signalled to two of his men with a one handed gesture for them to open the doors. “And make it snappy.”

Bizz took several steps back as the squad, which consisted of five soldiers now that one of their number had raced away to seek help began to lift the numerous security locks on the door. While they worked she moved into position next to their Sergeant and pulled her sidearm from her PAK.

“We can handle anything that might be in there,” The Sergeant said without looking her way.

“And whatever might be in there might be something that I would have walked in on if you hadn’t come along when you did.” Bizz countered, keeping her blaster levelled at the door. “So shut up and open it already.”

The two soldiers handling the locks stepped away as the final locks opened, and the door slid open with a hiss of pressurized air escaping. The room within was large, lavish, truly fit for a king...and while the bed might look clean and spotless Bizz doubted that she could be paid a fortune to even sit on it, knowing what Blue and Teivol could be up to in here every night that they weren’t out or separated for any span of time. The chamber itself appeared untouched, with every window sealed and covered by a security field the way it should be and the interior scanners active until one of the soldiers tapped a code into the security control panel to deactivate the more...deadly security devices in the room that wouldn’t discriminate between intruders and guardsmen.

“No heat signatures,” One soldier spoke up.

“Negative on electro-magnetic scanners.”

“Radiation scanners coming up at zilch.”

They were using every form of visual and non-visual sensor that was available to them, seeking any type of stealth device or hidden form that could be concealed within the room, but nothing came up even though they had heard a noise from within the room moments ago.

They found their culprit after a moment, spotting it on the floor next to the bed. It was one of the automated cleaning droids, only this one had gone off its pre-set route through the room and knocked a lamp off of the night stand. The droid was repeatedly bumping into the table now, and only stopped when one of the soldiers manually shut it down.

“Well great, a tech fucks up in maintaining the inventory and we get a jump scare for it.” The Sergeant grumbled as he and the other five Irkens relaxed, not realizing that a form had dropped down behind them in the corridor outside. “Come on, let’s-”

The two blasters were muffled, but at this range it was easy to hear their discharges as two of the guards fell from one shot to the back of their heads from close range. Before any of the other Irkens could react the figure dropped the freshly fired weapons, shot forward and swung one leg out, sweeping a third soldier’s legs out from under him and then bringing a powerful elbow strike down into his midsection before the man had even begun his descent to the ground. The fourth soldier turned partway before his rifle was struck in the middle by a swift front kick which sent the weapon flying from the unprepared Irken’s grasp and was followed up by a palm strike to his throat which caused cartilage to collapse with a sound similar to a candy wrapper being squeezed as the soldier went down without another sound. The Sergeant and Bizz were the only ones fast enough to raised their weapons, but by the time they had brought them about the assailant had moved between them and wrapped one leather clad hand around the hilt of a sword hanging on their back.

In two swift movements the hooded assailant’s blade formed a figure eight Bizz’s blaster and the Sergeant’s rifle lost their forward halves, rendering both weapons useless. The Sergeant threw the remaining half of his rifle in an effort to buy himself a split second of precious time as his hands tried to unlock and pull his reserve blaster from his belt, but before his fingers could even begin fumbling for the locking mechanism on the holster the assailant knelt low and stabbed upwards. Their blade pierced the Sergeant’s blaster, his hands, and stabbed straight up into his vital organs as the blaster sputtered and emitted a trail of smoke while the assailant pulled his blade back. The Sergeant gave a choked gurgling noise before he collapsed to his knees and then fell forward onto the carpeted floor, never to rise again.

Bizz scrambled backwards, hands reaching for the weapon of any of the fallen soldiers around her. The person who had just singlehandedly massacred the entire squad was now in plain view, their head and upper body shrouded by a hooded poncho which masked any important features. It also complimented their tall and broad shouldered physique while dark leather clothing clung to what little of their lower torso could be seen along with a pair of firm and powerful legs.

Bizz found one discarded rifle and tried to tug it out from beneath its fallen former owner while the intruder strode towards her, using their free hand to clean blood off of the short, narrow sword they held. She managed to pry the weapon free and brought it up, but the hooded intruder flicked their sword wrist once and the world seemed to stop for Bizz. She blinked once, trying to comprehend the sudden feeling of...nothing...which spread throughout her body. Her view then became tilted as she felt over, her head coming to rest on its side...while her body flopped back down onto the floor next to it, its limbs twitching several times while Bizz’s brain realized that it along with her entire head had just been cleanly decapitated, and now began the process of shutting down as Bizz’s mouth and tongue moved like a suffocating fish out of water, emitting no noise of their own and drawing in no breaths as Bizz’s eyes rolled in their sockets.

When she finally ceased to be and darkness rushed in around her, the figure standing amidst the scene of the massacre finished cleaning his blade once again and slid it into the sheathe resting on his back. With his target now dispatched he had several things to do before reinforcements could arrived. First he knelt down by the headless corpse and set a small object down on the stomach area. He then placed his hands together and bowed his covered head, murmuring without producing any sound.

Nobody else would hear his muted speech, but in his own mind he could imagine every word perfectly down to the specific pronunciation and pacing.

From the dark which hugs the deep, I send these souls on their path, be it to the light which overhangs the deep or the void which prowls beneath the dark.

He heard distant shouting but paid it no mind. He had to finish this before he could depart.

May they find closure in their new kingdom, and may they forever dwell in the paradise or punishment which they have brought unto themselves by their own acts.

The man parted his hands and rested his right palm upon his chest.

And now...back to the edge of Darkness.

As he finished delivering his whispered speech he heard the sound of dozens of pounding footfalls from the corridor outside. He quickly reached beneath his poncho and lobbed an object at the nearest window. The device struck the security field and exploded, causing it to short out and giving the assassin just enough time to dive through and begin his plummet down towards the surface of one of the landing pads far below near the heart of the vast complex. Several guards spotted him as he flipped over in mid fall and somehow landed on his feet, seemingly unharmed.

What they did not see as the figure crouched was the unique fabric of his suit absorbing the kinetic energy of the impact, sparing his skeletal structure where others might have died on contact with the ground. As he stood back up they managed to snap out of their shocked state and take aim, but the assassin had already dashed to the side as energy bolts sprayed the general area of the trail he followed. He ducked behind a parked transport and shut his eyes, one hand grasping the hilt of a dagger hidden by the folds of his poncho.

No, not yet.

He released the hilt and instead scrambled up the side of the vessel as the three guards began to move around either side to flank him. Just as one reached the corner he was snatched from above and quickly silence with a twist of his neck while his rifle was snatched from his limp hands, allowing his body to fall silently. The other two rounded their side of the ship and looked around, finding nowhere for their prey to go but...up...

A spray of plasma bolts rained down on them, burning through their armour and the flesh beneath as the assassin leapt from the roof of the transport. He dropped the rifle as he landed and then continued on towards his evac point as alarms wailed throughout the palace, which as now being sent on lockdown. The assassin moved through the landing area for cargo ships towards the edge of the palace, reaching a series of exposed landing platforms which overlooked a several thousand meter drop to the lowest streets of the city below. From here he could see numerous towers that surrounded the gargantuan palace, all of them a monument to the over bloated pride of the Empire and likely housing the elite who could afford to live in this the woman he had just murdered without even blinking.

“Hold it!”

Despite the warning a single plasma bolt slammed into the assassin’s shoulder, causing his poncho to catch fire as a pained grunt escaped him soundlessly. He spun around and threw a knife right between his attacker’s eyes at the same time before tearing the burning cloak away. He tossed the garment aside and backed towards the edge of the platform as other guards swarmed into view.

They now had a view of the intruder...

He was an Irken of darker skin colour than most, and his antennae were facing forward and tilted down, framing his face and green eyes. His attire was all dark with black and brown intermixing.

“Hold your fire! We’ve got him cornered.” An officer called out, waving his men down. “There’s nowhere left to go, put your hands up and make things easy on yourself by telling me who sent you.”

The Irken gave a slight smile only identifiable by his lips expanding ever so slightly and slowly raised his hands up. When a sudden white light formed around his left arm the officer had to bark at his men to hold their fire again when many of them tensed. It was some sort of holographic interface that had appeared, encircling the man’s entire forearm and hand like some gauntlet of pure light.

The Irken pressed one thumb to his palm, causing a holographic button to light up before a recording was played for all to hear.

You cannot betray that which you never followed, and I have never followed your decadent Empire.

The officer frowned at the long winded insult. “Look around’re on the world where your ancestors crawled out of the mud. You’re among your people...and you’ve chosen to kill one of your people. All Irkens come back here’s just your type who come here to harm our empire.” He waved two of his men forward. “Take him in, we’ll get all the information we need the hard way, and I imagine that Commander Teivol will want to be present for this seeing as it was one of his personal escorts who was killed.”

As the two soldiers approached the Irken, he took another step back towards the edge. The rest of the squad took aim again.

“What’s your plan, defective?” The officer inquired, looking amused. “You’re going to jump to your death? Go out in one last act of defiance? Did your masters encourage this decision? I bet they’d have just killed you anyways.” He walked towards the assassin. “Now stop this foolishness...there’s nothing to be gained in stepping off the ledge.”

The Irken’s smile grew a bit, and this time his index finger tapped another holographic button located on his palm to trigger a second pre-recorded statement.

You talk too much.

And then he took one final step back and tipped backwards.

“No!” The officer lunged forward and almost managed to grab a fistful of the assassin’s coat before they vanished from sight. He scrambled over to the ledge and looked down, only seeing the streets far below with no sign of the assassin...however there were no suitable handholds to grab onto anywhere on the edges of the platform. There was no possible way that the assassin could have survived a fall like that, and there were no hiding place along the outer wall of the palace.

The officer slowly stood up and turned away, groaning. “Irk damn it...Lady Blue and Commander Teivol are not going to like this at all.” He said, more to himself than to his men.

If he had remained behind for several more moments, he would have seen the assassin’s figure slowly fade into view, latched onto the side of the palace. The assassin glanced up as his stealth generator failed. In return for avoiding creating a distortion in the light spectrum which could give away all but the most careful infiltrator the device had a short life span and took several minutes to recharge between uses. If the officer had remained in his position for another ten seconds he would have spotted the Irken.

Peeling one hand away from the outer wall, the Irken conjured his holo-interface again and tapped a button to transmit a message indicating that his mission was accomplished. Within a minute a small ship flew up, not stopping even as the assassin released the wall and landed on the craft’s wing where he latched on before it pulled away from the palace. Even as external sensors picked up the departing ship it already vanished into the seemingly endless traffic.

The assassin crawled over to the canopy and opened it, allowing him to climb down into a seat that was light years ahead of sitting on a wall or the wing of the ship in terms of comfort. He buckled in and let the auto pilot take care of everything as he left the palace far behind him. Up ahead the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon and illuminate the skyline. This prompted the Irken to pull up his jacket’s regular hood and cover his upper face from the glaring light as he relaxed in his seat to take a nap in the relative comfort of the personal fighter, which blocked out almost all sound.

After spending weeks observing the palace and tireless hours repeatedly testing the defences every day he could put this assignment to rest. This one had taken much longer than usual due to the sheer amount of security that the palace had around the clock, but once he’d found a pattern to exploit Rush had no trouble positioning himself. He had timed everything perfectly, sending out a false transmission to Bizz to lure her to the palace. When she had arrived he made his final infiltration and waited for her to be in position.

The arrival of the guard squadron had complicated things, but they had been easily dealt with and the rest of the mission had gone according to plan.

Come in Rush, come in.” A voice disturbed him before he could doze off.

The assassin, Rush, tapped a button on his holo-interface which sent an affirmative response to the caller.

We received your signal, your escape ship will be waiting for you at the designated coordinates.” The caller said, “And Rush...thank you for doing this.

Rush cracked a smile beneath his hood and shrugged his shoulders before tilting his head up enough to look at the ten inch tall holographic image that had just appeared on his main console. The helmet clad face of the Wrath of Irk stared back at the mute assassin.

I have a feeling that you definitely have a place in the Syndicate,” Wrath continued, “Consider yourself hired and placed on my list of top ten preferred assassins.


Several hours later

Palace of Tallest Candidate Blue

“What...what the hell is this?!”

Tallest Candidate Blue had to hold back from throwing up her dinner as she raised her cape up to cover her face to block out the stench of blood which permeated the air of her and Teivol’s second bedroom. Around her numerous guards and investigators were scanning the room for evidence with assistance from floating drones.

“I tried to warn you not to come in, my lady.” The highest ranking officer present sighed. “We don’t know how the intruder managed to get inside the palace, but he got past every layer of sensors and patrols that we set up.”

Blue tore her gaze away from the sight of Bizz’s corpse, from the sight of her head laying on the carpet and staring up with blank eyes.

She quickly composed herself, lowering her cape back down and swallowing once. She then looked at the officer and inquired. “What was the time of death?”

“Approximately four hours and thirty minutes ago my Tallest, and it had been discovered moments after the act.” He responded, “The assassin was chased to the edge of the palace before he jumped off, and he is currently presumed to be deceased but we can’t find his body anywhere in the lower streets.”

“Then he isn’t dead,” Blue said sternly, “Double your search, and increase the watch throughout the palace. If this had happened while I was here I could have been killed!”

“About that...the assassin left something here, my lady.” The officer informed her, showing Blue a small data card that had been found on Bizz’s stomach. “It’s addressed to you.”

Blue took the card and examined it, seeing her name written on one side. On the other side were the words ‘From Wrath’.

So, her nephew was behind this! She was just lucky that she and Teivol had been out when this had happened or it might have been her head on the chopping block.

But that didn’t explain why Bizz was had been her night off.

“Why was Lieutenant Bizz here?” Blue asked, taking a step out of the room to breathe in some fresh air.

The officer followed after her. “The surviving guard explained that she claimed to have been summoned by you to discuss a problem with her last payment. The Sergeant in charge of the squad realized something was wrong and chose to investigate...the assassin had been hidden outside the room and struck only once they were all inside.”

Bizz...why would Risk have Bizz killed? She was just a regular officer-

No...she was more than that. She had been hired after the incident which had given Blue and Teivol their newest slave, the black skinned Vortian. Bizz had delivered Zef to them on a silver platter...

“Carry on,” Blue whispered before rushing to her regular quarters where she sat down and inserted the data card into a computer at her desk.

A holographic recording was played, showing the armored form of her nephew staring back at her.

Hello Lord-or is it Lady Blue now?” Wrath asked. “As you know, your security guard is dead. She died for the actions she committed against a good friend of mine, you know which one that I speak of. When we last mocked me with your perceived victory, the insult you had levelled against the entire Syndicate by abducting and enslaving people who I have sworn to protect...well now I have seen fit to remind you and your empire that your days are growing shorter.

Wrath crossed his arms. “Let me warn you now, Blue...I know you kept Donthar as a way to spite both myself and Zef, and it is for his sake that this mission was carried out specifically when you were absent. If I wanted to, if I worked hard enough and sacrificed enough...I could see you and your mate dead, but you would be easily replaced by the Empire within a few short weeks. This mission was a reminder...and a warning of the price to be paid when you harm those under the protection of the Syndicate...under MY protection. Now go back to ruling your precious world...for however long you have left.

The message ended, and Blue released a shuddering breath as she wrapped her arms around her own stomach, feeling the slight bump.

Her nephew had gotten his point across quite clearly...and for the safety of herself, Teivol and their child she would have to be careful in dealing with him in the future. Their blood relation had kept them both from going all out against one another to some extent, but she could see these days coming to a close. The Syndicate was now officially at the top of her list of threats, and it had been given years to grow in power until it was capable of striking within the safety of his own home.

The Syndicate...had to be destroyed.

Her nephew, Risk, needed to die.




In the culture of the Infarai the Dark Dweller is one part assassin and one part guardian, with one serving every Infarai colony with a population larger than ten thousand. As a result there are potentially thousands of Dark Dwellers in the known universe, many of them are not even Infarai anymore, with adopted aliens being granted the position based on their merits. Each is issued an offer which may be turned down without the individual being shamed, but those who accept it are praised for their bravery before being sent off for several years of intense training.

The Dark Dweller is, in Infarai myth, one who chooses to forsake living in the Deep (equal to a paradise for the living) who chooses to wander on the edge between the Deep and the Dark (equal to anywhere beyond the borders of Infarai Civilization, such as a wilderness or enemy territory). It is their duty to seek out and locate threats to their appointed colony or other colonies and either turn them away peacefully or, if necessary, eliminate them and send their souls off to the Void (Analogous of Hell in numerous cultures) or to the Light (Analogous to Heaven). Some Dark Dwellers have taken to accepting jobs as paid assassins in order to establish ties with factions across the universe, but none have yet to work for the Irken Empire, seeing it as the greatest threat to the Infarai yet.

The original Dark Dwellers were presumably a class of warrior dating back to the Infarai’s original home world and were primarily used in defending undersea settlements against aggressive species of aquatic predators that originated from ‘The Dark’ (a depth of sea level which the Infarai were either unsuited for traversing or avoided due to it being the natural habitat of their potential natural predators). These Dark Dwellers would have been faced with the idea of a constant threat and as such would have required a grand commitment and amount of training in order to maintain protection of their settlement to protect against species both larger and more numerous.

On an interesting note, Rush is among the first non-Infarai Dark Dwellers.

Steps in the Dark
A little one shot to bring the spot light on one of my lesser known OCs, Rush!

I do not own Invader Zim

Blue belongs to :iconprojecthalfbreed:

Zef, Teivol and Donthar belong to :iconheavenbat:

Mature Content

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Resisty Uprising: Round One


Rimak vs Arthur

In the brief instant that it took for Rimak’s atoms to be whisked across the surface of this barren world and reformed on some distant patch of ground the Irken swore that by the end of this he would see Lard-Nar dead. Others would call for the Vortian to be brought to justice, some would insist that he be allowed to rot in some cell where he could suffer a lifetime away from the warmth of the sun.

Rimak was just going to blow the goat’s brains out and wash his hands of this horrible memory.

The moment that the Irken had set his boots on the metallic disc and heard Lard-Nar’s snide little voice mocking him with one last message he was tempted to just go for his gun and damn any consequences; only the thought of Aayan kept him from acting so impulsively, Aayan and the smeet who would grow up without a father if Rimak tried anything. A moment later, fortunately long before Rimak could reconsider his decision he vanished in a pillar of blue energy that enveloped him before speeding him away. The journey lasted the span of an eye blink and ended with Rimak appearing amidst a blue glow hundreds of miles from the source of all his anger.

The Irken blinked several times to clear his vision and tapped the side of his head. The device fixed to his temple let out a barely audible beeping noise before a red tinted holo-visor appeared over Rimak’s eyes. As the blurred background cleared up he saw the dark spherical silhouette of his designated camera drone floating around in front of him.

Rimak growled irritably, “Scat!” He swatted the drone to the ground.

Um...OW! The hell?!” The drone demanded as it floated back up to head level. “Seriously, what the actual hell?

“What part of ‘scat’ didn’t get to those audio processors?” Rimak countered with a question of his own as he took in the view of his destination.

Rimak had been deposited in the middle of what looked like a suburban neighbourhood. Most of the structures close by were no higher than two stories, wrecked vehicles dotted the cracked roads and plant life had been given time to grow enough that it was overwhelming the remnants of whatever society had once called this region home. Each structure was in a state of disrepair, few windows were even left intact and even fewer buildings looked like they had many days left in them before a slight breeze would knock them over. It had an almost eerie atmosphere to it, imagining the families that may have once called this suburb home, the children who played on the toys left abandoned on the sidewalk or in the middle of the road.

The climate was sunny, fairly cool, light breeze. If he had to guess he was close to an ocean, perhaps less than a mile. It would have been nice to explore...if it didn’t look like it had just been the sight of some wartime evacuation.

“Great, so he even chose a second hand planet fer his lil’ blood sport rip off.” Rimak drawled, shaking his head in disapproval before glancing over his shoulder and wagging a finger at the drone. “Your boss is not doing a great deal to inspire fear in anyone over the age of thirteen.”

Seeing as he got out of prison and you’re on a death show, I wouldn’t be laughing.” The drone huffed turning away.

“Seein’ as he’s ridin’ bitch to a giant computer squid I’d say that I’ll have plenty to laugh about after this is over.” Rimak replied before crouching and engaging his Jet PAK, shooting into the air so he could land on the roof of a structure that appeared relatively stable and get a good view of the neighbourhood.

The drone followed after him, still keeping its distance in case his talkative mood quickly expired while it exchanged dialogue with him. “At least your confidence is still up.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Rimak asked while scanning the local terrain, spotting taller buildings in the distance and the tops of large trees in the opposite direction indicating the edge of a forest, and off to the side he could see the blue of an ocean (at this he made a mental note: called it!). “I intend to win this’n do what his previous victims were too inept or injured to do after the whole galaxy got to watch the Tallests play pin ball with his ship.”

You’re seriously spouting threats when the guy can hear you?” The drone inquired, tilting its spherical body in the universal sign of curiosity that usually required a head and neck to do. “What’s to stop him from just poisoning the food he sends you or blasting you from orbit?

“The fact that he wants to watch us kill each other, and that his boss won’t be happy if he goes tamperin’ with the competition.” Rimak responded before leaping from the edge of the roof, igniting his jets just enough to slow his descent before he landed on the cracked road below. “So unless I’m given reason to think things are changin’ I’ll just uh...” He gestured with one hand. “Keep preachin’ about how amazingly incompetent he’d be without that control brain holdin’ his hand the whole way.”

Fair enough,” The drone simulated a sigh, “It’s not my life on the line. Heck, I only became self aware like five minutes ago anyways and you’ve done a hell of a job making this life look like it’s worth staying in!

Rimak knew that it would be his luck to be paired with a drone that turned out to be suicidal. Putting aside the dialogue, which admittedly helped to lighten the atmosphere after his less than elegant delivery to this shit hole of a planet, he thought back to everything he remembered about the previous season of Lard-Nar’s show and what had carried over. Rimak had preferred not to watch it, not because he had found it to be disgraceful but because he had been busy spending a very pleasant vacation with Aayan and had decided that there was no use in worrying over something he couldn’t help with.

“Say,” Rimak turned around, walking backwards to keep up his course as he addressed the drone, “You have info on who my opponent is, right?”

And he remembers!” The drone tilted itself upward and looked to the sky. “Hallelujah! Yes, I have the necessary information to identify your opponent.

Rimak gestured with one hand for the drone to speed it up.

Okay, okay!” Its central eye glowed and projected a three dimensional hologram that began as a silhouette before taking on a more detailed form. “Your opponent just got paired up with you now. His name is Arthur.

Arthur...that was an oddly human name, based on what Rimak knew of the species through Aayan’s father, who was not exactly the best representative or example to hold an entire race to. What made this more confusing was that this wasn’t even a hybrid, but a simple blue eyed Irken wearing a pair of boots, blue pants, purple shirt with black sleeves and a scarf or cloth of some kind wrapped around his neck.

When Arthur’s basic information was displayed next to the image Rimak paused in mid step as his eyes fell on the age.

He was fighting a fifteen year old boy.

After a moment of staring and pondering this new information Rimak shrugged his shoulders and tilted the brim of his hat down at the front to cover his face. He shook his head and murmured, “Can’t say that surprises me too much.”

It had been obvious from the start that Rimak would have to kill a few people far before their time when he woke up in Lard-Nar’s custody. For most others this might pose a moral dilemma, leaving them conflicted with the thought of shooting down a young boy in cold blood to save themselves. Some more altruistic individuals might even consider letting him win or offing themselves for his sake.

For Rimak however, this was just going to be one more lamentable but necessary act of survival. When choosing between a stranger and reuniting with his mate long enough to see his smeet born there was no contest. He would take no pleasure in what had to be done, but the most he could afford would be to make Arthur’s passing quick and painless.

“Assumin’ this kid is in the vicinity and yer boss didn’t fuck that part up,” Rimak turned so he was walking forward again, heading towards the taller sky scrapers near the heart of the city, “I’ll try to make this as non-graphic as possible...ain’t anythin’ pretty in what’s goin’ to happen here today.”

The worst part of this situation was that this round wouldn’t even be a fair fight.

Oh man that kid is going to curse the gods that let him be born by the time this is over,” The drone chuckled as it followed Rimak, “No, seriously, this is so one sided that it’s almost going to be sad to watch...almost.


One of the things that Arthur regretted the most was that he had felt pity for the psychotic Vortian known as Lard-Nar. In the span of a single minute his life had gone from being uneventful and somewhat decent to an absolute nightmare, and it was still hard to process this fact as the boy sat down in the middle of what looked like a park, using the edge of a long dried up fountain for support as he took several deep breaths.

“This is happening,” Arthur whispered, gripping the fabric of his shirt with one hand. “This is really happening!”

Said the annoying meat bag for the tenth time.” Arthur’s designated camera drone groaned as it floated by, rolling sideways as it went. “Seriously kid, the audiences all get it: you’re screwed. Now are you going to sit here and wait for your opponent to find you or are you actually going to do something?

Arthur’s eyes shot up towards the drone; the boy only seemed to have remembered its presence at that moment.

“S-something?” Arthur stood up, trying to remain as calm as he could. “Like what?”

ANYTHING THAT ISN’T THIS!” The drone shouted, getting in close to the boy’s face and causing Arthur to yelp and fall over. “Seriously, that dumb goat should have at least had his thugs target some real fighters! Now I’m stuck with a complete basket case.

Arthur frowned and stood back up. “Hey!” He snapped, reaching up and plucking the drone out of the air with one hand. “I have every reason to be terrified right now! Some psychopath just kidnapped me and forced me into a life or death situation! The last thing I want or need is some uppity drone shouting at me!” He released it and fixed the drone with a glare while crossing his arms. “Besides, I’m not even a soldier! How am I expected to kill, much less fight?”

Well I’m sorry to tell you Sappy von Chicken Pants, but this is the law of the jungle now.” The drone drawled, drawing Arthur’s attention to the surrounding environment by zipping around. It gestured to the wrecked playground equipment, the overgrown weeds sprouting up through the cracks and the crumbling structures lining the edge of the park. “You may have been an engineer back with the Irken Empire, but your leaders have been captured and you’re a long way from any friendly faces. You don’t have time to focus on what you used to be, you need to focus on what you are now,” It settled back into place in front of Arthur, “A survivor, and a survivor does what they need to or they die so other survivors can do what they need to in order to keep alive. And believe me kiddo, there are a lot of survivors here who won’t be as hesitant to kill you.

Arthur seemed to deflate under this lecture, his anger replaced by despair as he found himself agreeing with everything the drone said. “So I...I don’t have any choice,” He murmured, “I have to kill someone.”

Not just someone, kiddo.” The drone projected an image out of its eyes, forming the image of a familiar outlaw who was known through quite a few systems in the Empire. “You need to kill this guy.

Arthur gaped at the image, recognizing it vaguely but not able to place a name to the face...

Rimak Rikson,” The drone informed Arthur, “Bounty hunter, non-imperial aligned, and unlucky enough to be caught up in the rush back on Conventia. Dozens of confirmed kills on the job this year alone and upwards of a thousand in the last decade; and let me tell you a lot of those guys were the sort who would have prospered here. But hey, there’s a bright side to all of this.

“R-really?” Arthur looked up hopefully.

Yeah, Colonel Goat Face says that if you win he’ll send down a few extra snack cakes in the supply crate. Apparently this Rikson fellow has been bad mouthing him so much on live TV that his own bridge crew is having a hard time not laughing.” The drone responded while the image dissipated.

Arthur blanched, one eye twitching as he processed this so called silver lining.

Hey, I said a bright side, not a secret cheat code to winning.” The drone tilted its spherical body. “Oh and by the way, he’s probably looking for you, so you might want to-

A red flash of light off to the side drew Arthur’s attention and ended up saving his life, giving the boy enough of a heads up to throw himself to the side before a plasma bolt slammed into the fountain where he had been sitting moments ago. As a cloud of dust flew up Arthur turned onto his side and looked towards the source of the shot just as a much taller and older Irken man stepped into view. The wide brimmed hat, the long brown coat, the red holo-visor; everything matched the hologram image exactly!

“Should’a just let that one hit, boy.” Rimak said, already lining up another shot. “Could’ve ended before yah even knew what was happenin’.”


Arthur yelped and managed to scramble out of the way of a second shot, throwing himself over the edge of the fountain as Rimak’s second shot blasted away another section. The boy then rushed behind the larger statue occupying the center of the circle and moved around to the far side where he pressed himself against the stone surface and tried to keep himself from hyperventilating.

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?!  Arthur thought over and over in his head. He has a gun, he’s a crack shot-wait, I have a gun too! What am I doing?!

Arthur’s hands searched for the handle of his blaster, which rested in a compartment in his PAK. He found it and quickly pulled the weapon out as Rimak circled around on the right side. As the mercenary prepared to fire off a third shot Arthur leaped into the open and let loose with multiple energy shots, shouting as he strafed to the left and pelted Rimak’s position, forcing the older Irken to duck down as a shot nearly singed off his gun hand. Rimak knelt down and pressed his free hand to the outer side of the fountain wall to steady himself, keeping his gun at the ready as he listened for Arthur’s foot steps.

After unleashing a clean dozen rounds Arthur stopped and vaulted over the fountain wall again, making a break for the trees. He fired off several more shots over his shoulder before finally pulling himself behind the safety of a thick tree and sucking in a deep breath.

“How did I just survive that?” Arthur whispered. “Okay, gotta think, gotta think. He’s stronger than me, he’s faster, a better shot, what do I do?”

Arthur peered around the edge of his cover only to quickly pull back as a red tinted bolt of light shot past, burning away part of the trunk and setting fire to some bushes.

“Yipe!” Arthur squeaked before running further into the park where the trees appeared to grow larger and the underbrush grew thicker.

Behind him, Rimak sighed and checked the energy cell on his blaster before holstering the weapon.

“This just got more annoying than it should be.” The bounty hunter growled, taking off after his quarry.


Arthur kept running until he was fully certain that Rikson had lost sight of him. The boy collapsed against a large log and tried to catch his breath.

Barely got away. Need a new plan. Arthur glanced around and took in his new surroundings.

This part of the park seemed like he had just stepped into an entirely different world. The log he was leaning against was large enough that a car could go through it if it was hollow, there were vast winding roots large enough to walk on which reached up dozens of feet high, forming improvised walkways that were rife with hazards such as thorns and sharp ends of shattered branches.

Maybe....maybe I can try to take him by surprise? Shoot him from one of those big branches or drop a rock on him? Arthur tried climbing onto one of the large roots and found it to be surprisingly easy thanks to a wide availability of hand and foot holds. He was able to clamber up one of the twisting pathways until he was on a stable enough ground nearly thirty feet up before standing upright, carefully to make sure he didn’t lose his balance.

Okay...okay....I can do this. I just need to wait for him to walk right into the clearing and then I can just shoot him and be done with it. Arthur swallowed and pulled out his gun again, checking the power cell. Thirty shots left? Oh man, I wasted way too many back there. Need to make this one count.

Now that he no longer had the impending threat of a gun pointed at him Arthur found it a lot easier to think and act rationally. Rikson’s sudden and violent entrance had thrown Arthur off balance mentally and left him simply scrambling for cover, his life hanging by a thread and saved only by mere chance that one of his shots had forced the more experienced mercenary to duck down rather than make a killing shot. Now he could go about things more calmly, step by step. It was regrettable, but Arthur knew that Rikson was no stranger to killing and hadn’t been intent on giving him a chance...

But can I still go through with it? Arthur though, crouching on the bark. If I don’t, either he’ll kill me or we’ll both starve. I bet he knows that too...

Well, gotta admit I’m surprised you survived that to begin with.

Arthur almost jumped out of his skin, having forgotten about his drone. It had been silently bobbing by his shoulder ever since Rimak had made his first shot, and only now had chosen to speak up.

That is what we call being ridiculously lucky,” The drone added, keeping its voice low. “Well that or your opponent was having an off day.

Arthur sighed. “Do you really need to do this?” He asked.

Do I? Nope. Do I need something to keep me from shutting myself down from boredom? Damn skippy.” The drone looked down. “So, what’s the big game plan for today?

Arthur groaned, realizing that this thing wouldn’t pipe down until he satisfied it. “I’m just gonna wait until he comes into the clearing and then...well...”

Shoot him?” The drone asked. “Simple, but classic. Most others would try to go the extra mile with some convoluted trap but I give you props for going with the basic route.” It moved around to his opposite shoulder. “Betcha five bucks it won’t work though.

Arthur slapped it away, growing annoyed with it already. “Well I’d like to see you come up with something better. Besides, weren’t you the one going on about how I need to be a survivor and all that a few minutes ago?”

Exactly, and survivors have better plans. If my software wasn’t locked I’d be able to tell you fifty of them, give or take, buuuut you’re on your own for this one kiddo.” The drone began to hum. “And the difference between now and earlier is that now I’m actually amused and now you aren’t just sitting around wetting yourself, which only improves things as far as I care.

Arthur opened his mouth to issue a retort, but the sound of a branch snapping close by cause him to clamp his jaw shut and gesture for the drone to silence itself. He pressed himself down flat to conceal himself from view and held out his blaster, peering down the barrel to try and acquaint himself with properly lining it up with a target.


Another branch. Much closer than before.

Several moments of silence followed. Arthur began to shift uncomfortably from the adrenaline pumping through his veins mixed with the lack of activity. His whole body was set to spring up and take off for the hills at a moment’s notice and the slightest noise or act would set him off.

Another stick snapped...right below him. Arthur froze up and slowly peeked over the edge, spotting the stick lying in the middle of the leaf covered ground but with no sign of Rimak or any other life-and he recalled Lard-Nar mentioning ridding this planet of any life that could potentially be used for nutrition, so either there was an animal out here that would be toxic to try consuming or Rimak was much closer than he seemed.

When he felt the root shift a bit beneath him as an additional weight was added, Arthur realized it was definitely the latter.

Spinning around, Arthur fired off one shot only for it to go wide as Rimak forced his blaster up and to the side with one hand. The bounty hunter drew one of his own guns out in the same motion, but before he could even bring it to bear on Arthur’s head the boy kicked out desperately and struck the older Irken in the leg, causing him to lose his balance and giving Arthur a chance to kick him off of the root entirely. This bought him only a few seconds of respite, as Rimak had reached out and grabbed onto a handhold on the side of the root and quickly pulled himself back up just in time for Arthur to bring his gun up while Rimak did the same.

They both went rigid, their bodies locking up as they focused on the hole at the end of the other’s weapon. Rimak was only half back on the root, he had raised one leg up and used it to help pull himself up enough to remain balanced with the gun in hand while his other leg was left dangling. Even in this less than ideal stance he could still nail Arthur if he had been ten times as far from him.

Rimak examined Arthur, noting the accelerated breathing and shaking arms. “Yah think yah can do this a few more times, boy?” He demanded, “Yah think yah’ve got the balls and the wind to live out this tournament? Yah know Lard-Nar took a lot’o people more eager than me, and yah know they won’t try givin’ yah a quick end like I’ve been tryin’ to do for this whole fight. So tell me...yah think you can even pull that trigger?”

Arthur was already on the verge of hyperventilating, and Rimak’s words did nothing to help the poor boy even as he realized the truth in them. He was barely holding it together in this round alone, so how could he hope to keep going against people probably just as dangerous as the man before him? But that was where his choices ended: fight or die. There was no other way out. He had no choice but to deal with it.

Sucking in a breath, Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and exhumed a bellow to try and drown out the sound of his blaster discharging when he squeezed the trigger. He felt the gun kick in his hands, unleashing bolt after bolt of pure heat and death without any effort to even aim-though his target was only a few feet away, so at least one was bound to hit home. Even with his piercing cry Arthur could still hear the explosion of energy erupting from his weapon until it finally ran dry, the power cell drained and empty.

Only when his gun emitted a noise to indicate that it was drained and required recharging did he dare to open his eyes. The spot where Rimak had been hanging was unoccupied and scorched black, some parts of the root were emitting a thin pillar of smoke and others were even beginning to catch fire.

Arthur stood up, the now useless blaster still in his grasp, and walked towards the charred edge of the root while being careful to maintain his footing. When he peered down again he saw the same thing as before: nothing but leaves and a shattered branch.

The boy began to look around, his pulse racing frantically again. “What-where-” He whimpered before hearing the sound of a crunch at his feet. He looked down just as the edge of the root where his blasts had scorched the bark until it was black and brittle broke away, shattering under his weight and sending him tumbling forward with a scream. The fall was not high enough to be fatal, but when he slammed down it was still a bad one.

Bones snapped, tendons tore, blood ran free. Arthur was consumed by a world of nausea and pain, unaware that he’d broken one of his arms and had managed to fracture his skull against a rock that he’d hit when he landed. Every movement only ignited a sensation of pure agony, and his vision was a dark haze with a bit of clarity near its center. He was vaguely aware of a figure hanging from the underside of the root which he had been using as a perch, of the noise it made when its boot clad feet hit the ground and how its legs bent to absorb the shock of the same fall that Arthur had just taken. What he wasn’t aware of was the fact that he couldn’t feel his legs, too focused on the pain in his upper body and head.

Rimak stood up and sighed as he took in the sight of Arthur’s broken and battered body. The boy’s right arm was bent at an unnatural angle along with his left leg, his left eye was swollen shut and the right was fluttering as he struggled to draw in his next breath.

The sight only made Rimak regret what he was about to do, but it also brought a sense of comfort that he wouldn’t be leaving Arthur to suffer. “Sorry boy,” Rimak said while shaking his head and drawing his blaster again, “Maybe yah do deserve t’live through all’o this, someone young as you.”

The bounty hunter levelled his blaster at Arthur’s head. “But I deserve it more,” He announced, his voice cold and expression empty as he squeezed one finger and put just enough pressure on the trigger.


This time he didn’t miss.

“Just be happy that yah got it quick,” Rimak concluded his speech as he holstered his blaster.

At first he made to remove himself from the site, but forced himself to stop and take off his hat, holding it to his chest as he knelt by Arthur’s corpse in a moment of silence with his head bowed.

This moment was unfortunately shattered by the rejoicing of a particular camera drone, which was spinning around wildly as it seemed to dance over Arthur’s body.

Oh yeah! Oh yeah! I got the bad ass! I got the bad ass!” It sang, “Oh you showed that brat who he was messing with! This is exactly what I wanted to see!” It lowered itself down and got a close up of Arthur’s cranium where a single hole was burnt between his eyes. “And such a clean kill too! Oh man Rikson, you may have a big mouth but you sure know how to deliver the-


The drone was sent to the ground as a pile of burning scrap by a second shot. Rimak glared at the wreckage as he holstered his blaster once again and stood up, roughly setting his hat back on his head. “Disrespectful fuckin’ tin can,” He muttered, “Yah don’t dance on the graves of yer enemies.”

Can’t blame you for that,” The other camera drone said, floating a few feet away, “The boy had potential, and I really thought that he had you for a second.” It mimicked shaking its ‘head’ as it floated in, “But I agree: it’s a petty and undignified thing to make light of such a thing.

Rimak glanced at the drone, Arthur’s. “Yah don’t seem too broken up ‘bout it,” He observed while reaching into his PAK for some of his herb sticks.

I knew the kid for all of maybe thirty minutes.” The drone pointed out, “Hard to get attached to, but easy to sympathize with if you know what I mean.” It floated over to him. “Seems you’re short a drone now...mind if I tag along? I’m prone to be shut down now that my contestant is dead.

Rimak shrugged, “Don’t make a complete ass of yerself like he did and yah can stick around.” He turned and began to walk back towards the less overgrown area of the park, lighting a herb stick as he went. “Say, I didn’t even know yer type could be destroyed. What gives? Usually you drones have energy shieldin’ or somethin’ to keep that from happenin’.”

Yeah, drones made by the Empire if you recall correctly. We on the other hand were made by some over reaching hypocrite of a goat, so you can expect us to have a few kinks here and there.” The drone responded, “Are you really surprised that Lard-Nar couldn’t even afford up to date camera drones? Or that he’s currently throwing a hissy fit and spouting empty threats along the lines of having me slef destruct?

For the first time since he arrived Rimak cracked a smile and blew out a puff of scented smoke as he looked at his new drone. “Yah know...I think we might be liable to get along much better than I did with mah last drone.” The Irken said, approving of this replacement. “But what makes yah so certain that he won’t deactivate yah?”

He didn’t think to buy replacements, and we’re hundreds of miles from any other drones,” The drone explained, “That and he’s riding bitch to a Control Brain who won’t let him-oh! And here comes those food supplies.

A crate appeared close by in a pillar of golden light which faded as quickly as it had appeared. It was a medium sized metal container which popped open automatically, allowing Rimak to see the food supplies within...including a few extra snack cakes.

Wow...he actually thought Arthur had you,” The drone observed, “...and he forgot to remove those extra snack cakes he promised the kid before sending this down.

“Well, it sucks to be him then,” Rimak said as he sat down in front of the crate and began to make himself a makeshift meal, eating his fill while allowing the drone to get a close up of him munching on the snack cakes. After a few minutes he finished and gave out a light burp as he got to his feet. “Alright, all done, yall can have the leftovers back.” He waved one hand dismissively before the crate vanished.

The goat says he hopes you choke, he actually ordered me to tell you that just now.” The drone informed Rimak. “...say, supposing you win this...any chance that I might be able to tag along with you? I long term employment in this whole death tournament thing isn’t looking too bright and I’d actually like to live long enough to maybe upgrade myself to some kind of standard condition.

Rimak gave an amused chuckle as he tilted his hat, “We’ll talk,” He promised, his grim mood from earlier lifted and forgotten, “Fer now, how about we have ourselves a game? We each make up a new method in which I could end Lard-Nar’s life after this is all over and whoever can’t make up a more creative method loses.”

"What happened to not dancing on the graves of your enemies?"

"Never said anythin' about not plottin' their demise with a surplus of satisfaction."

Oh well in that case you are ON!” The drone declared as the duo departed. “Okay I’ll go first. This first one is something most people don’t know about Vortian horns so you might wanna take note, it’ll come in handy  later on.

And thus a new friendship was born.


The End

Resisty Uprising Round One: Rimak
This one was pretty much churned out in a hurry due to the approaching deadline. I apologize to :iconinvadercarmel: for this, as I tried to portray Arthur as best as I could with what little sources I had to go on. But it was also so difficult to try and make this a balance fight because Rimak, being a seasoned bounty hunter, easily outmatches Arthur in a real life scenario. Even with that I tried to make it so Arthur didn't go down without a fight and even came close to winning even if only briefly.

Rimak is mine

Arthur belongs to :iconinvadercarmel:

Invader Zim and its affiliated characters belong to Jhonen Vasquez


By your command Rae

Journal Entry: Fri Nov 6, 2015, 9:03 PM

:iconfortheloveofkei: commanded me to post this for commenting on her journal.

1. What animal/creature you remind me of.
2. What color I think fits you.
3. How I feel about you.
4. Insult you.
5. My favorite OC of yours.
6. What season you remind me of.
7. Tell you what food you smell like in my head.
8. Think of a random nickname for you.
9. What element you remind me of.
10. I'll command you to put this in your journal without using the words 'tag' or 'dare' or 'order'

Thinking of going for the second season Resisty Uprising. Who do you think I should use? 

3 deviants said Risk (he's yet to be in one)
3 deviants said Lenia (her husband already went and joined a tournament, she might as well get suckered into one too)
2 deviants said Envon (he definitely needs to be brought out of the closet of lost OCs)
2 deviants said Emkol (My first PlanetJacker)
1 deviant said Skullene (she's won every other oct she's been in)
1 deviant said Rik (he lost at Bloodsport but is ready and willing to fight)
1 deviant said Daelias (She'd be right at home with killing her fellow prisoners/opponents)
No deviants said Paneece (she needs her time in the spotlight)
No deviants said Rimak (just as ready as his dad and a lot younger)
No deviants said Connor Carroway (a tribrid of Irken, human and a DNA parasite who could do with some time in the spotlight)


Thinking of going for the second season Resisty Uprising. Who do you think I should use? 

3 deviants said Risk (he's yet to be in one)
3 deviants said Lenia (her husband already went and joined a tournament, she might as well get suckered into one too)
2 deviants said Envon (he definitely needs to be brought out of the closet of lost OCs)
2 deviants said Emkol (My first PlanetJacker)
1 deviant said Skullene (she's won every other oct she's been in)
1 deviant said Rik (he lost at Bloodsport but is ready and willing to fight)
1 deviant said Daelias (She'd be right at home with killing her fellow prisoners/opponents)
No deviants said Paneece (she needs her time in the spotlight)
No deviants said Rimak (just as ready as his dad and a lot younger)
No deviants said Connor Carroway (a tribrid of Irken, human and a DNA parasite who could do with some time in the spotlight)



Irken-Risk has started a donation pool!
750 / 600
I'm looking to get a subscription, but at the rate I spend my points I will have some trouble. For now...I'm just hoping anybody who likes some of the stories I put up might donate a few. I am in no way pressuring anybody to, I'm only saying it would be appreciated-plus I can still collect points the old fashioned way...though for some reason I can't access my badges page to give away badges for points. I managed to get to it using my computer's history, but I'm honestly not sure if that was supposed to happen or if it's another error. Either way, I chose to open this.

The only thing I could offer right now would be a written entry with one of your own characters in it. If you would like one in return for points, just say so.

You must be logged in to donate.


Add a Comment:
RaynaHero200 Featured By Owner Aug 30, 2015  Student Digital Artist
Hey there long time no see~ how ya doin? x3
Irken-Risk Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2015
Heyo, doing great and going back to university in a few days. You?
RaynaHero200 Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2015  Student Digital Artist
Everyone getting back to school it seems |D oh hard at work on some pics am going to be entering BloodSport this season :la:
Irken-Risk Featured By Owner Sep 2, 2015
I'm considering joining in, not too sure though.
(1 Reply)
SaintHeartwing Featured By Owner Aug 13, 2015  Student General Artist
Hey dude, how's it going? :)
Irken-Risk Featured By Owner Aug 13, 2015
Going fine, been working a lot.
SaintHeartwing Featured By Owner Aug 13, 2015  Student General Artist
Oh, really? Like what? :)
Irken-Risk Featured By Owner Aug 13, 2015
I meant working as in at the marina. XD Cleaning boats, fuelling them, etc.
(1 Reply)
ToaDeathax Featured By Owner Jul 22, 2015
Hey man, what's up?
Irken-Risk Featured By Owner Jul 22, 2015
Nothing much, binge playing Assassin's Creed.
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