Chapter Text
“IT’S OVER, ZIM!”
“Don’t make me laugh, pitiful Earth-monkey-- Oh! Too late, here I go!”
It’s a typical day for the neighborhood. The children are all hiding away in the safety of their homes to avoid the discord that trails behind the chaotic teen and the always-maniacally-cackling alien.
Six years.
Six years of this insanity. Seventeen, if you account for the years they’ve had to deal with Dib’s crazy antics alone. But no one had grown wiser to the alien’s existence, well, they had-- but of course, his eccentricism blended in with the crowd of the other disgusting, stupid humans on the planet. This very fact is enough to spur arguments in passing on the daily.
After Dib had told Zim to shut up a dozen times, the alien finally ceases in his laughter only to continue with his mocking mantra. “No one will ever believe you, Dib-worm!” The alien digs his heel into the plastic film strewn on the asphalt in front of him to emphasize this point. “It’ll take more than your primitive cameras to expose me, Ziiim--!” He shook his fists at the sky in pride.
“That was expensive, man,” Dib whines, ignoring the alien’s babbling. He has long since learned to tune out his hurtful words, afterall, he didn’t need a reminder of his shortcomings as an amateur paranormal investigator.
“Even after the Florpus, these stu-pid, stinkin’ humans didn’t understand the doom they faced in phase two of my INGENIOUS plans! Mass hysteric, is that what they called it? Of course, leave it to hyoomans to pretend the horrors I bring to their world don’t exist! Their ignorance will be their downfall! Unless some ship comes crashing down to Earth to abduct a human like your naive sci-fi movies demonstrate, then I don’t see how--”
“WHAT IS THAT THING?” Dib cries out pointing to something behind Zim.
The alien ducks down just in time to avoid a flying saucer that swoops down and spirals through the air dodging bright, red laser beams shooting from an even bigger ship from behind. The saucer makes a harsh turn upwards back into the sky.
Soon, people are pouring out of their homes, joggers pull out their headphones to marvel at the aircrafts, and cars pull over to watch the display. The saucer flies directly in front of the sun, and onlookers squint through the bright light to make out the shape they recognize all too easily.
"A U.F.O.!” A man peeking out from the driver window of his car cries out. Families scramble out of their car and begin snapping photos with their phones.
Dib grins at the panicked face of Zim. This is his chance!
Hey, everybody! I got an alien right here--”
Nyooooom-CRASH!
Like a Kamikaze plane, the saucer crash-lands in the yard of a house across the street of Zim’s cul-de-sac. A crowd gathers around the two boys to get a better view as the semi-circular glass dome on top of the ship is lifted up by a white-gloved hand. Out jumps a bipedal creature in a bright purple uniform. It prances up to the front door of the house. Raising a fist, it violently knocks on the door, every hammer to the wood rattling the door against its frame. Notably, the being had (h/l), (h/c) hair and what Dib recognizes to be a headband with fake, bobby antennae poking out.
“COME OUT, COME OUT, LOTTIE! I’M HERE TO ABDUCT YOU!”
At that, the people scatter from the scene, wailing in terror.
“OH MY GOD!”
“AN ALIEN!”
“IT’S GONNA EAT OUR BRAINS!”
Seeing this as another opportunity, Dib fervently jabs a finger in Zim’s face and smiles at every person that runs by him. “Look! Look!”
But to no avail. Dib is ignored and the streets are clear once more.
Even Zim ignores him. The alien at his neighbor’s doorstep intrigues him. The black stalks with silver bulbs on her head give him a clue as to what species it might be. It takes out something small from its pocket-- perhaps a remote-- and just like that, it’s gone. Instantaneously.
It doesn’t matter-- Zim has bigger problems to deal with when the larger ship that was attacking the saucer lands in the middle of the cul-de-sac.
The purple, metal shell of the ship splits apart to allow a ramp that lowers down onto the street. Out marches the eleven-foot tall mountain that was Commander Borgz clad in a black, leather uniform. Behind him trails the heavily armed Spoofly, Oggy on a hoverboard, and Veeka. Her hardened silver gaze flits between Dib and Zim and her lips pull back into a tight grimace, revealing her yellowing razors for teeth.
“Now, where is that idiot? Come on out, (Y/n)! You can run but you can’t hide!” Borgz calls out as he paces around the street.
“WE’RE NOT AFRAID TO BLOW YA HEAD OFF, OKAY!” Spoofly cries in a fit of rage, waving his gun towards her ship.
Zim has had his lasers from his PAK equipped the moment they stepped off the ship. One look at them and he can tell they’re criminals. Their uniforms are patched up in various places with different shades of purple and their ship looks like a hodge-podge of random weapons attached in various places. He has to be cautious, who knows what they’re willing to attempt. But he also needs them back on their ship and back to wherever it is they came from.
His yells for their attention fall on deaf ears. “HEY! HEY! EXCUSE ME! HEL-LO!”
Borgz looks over his shoulder to be face-to-face with squinted piercing eyes-- eyes that reminds him of (Y/n)’s. He backs away in shock and for a moment wonders if she had led them to her home planet-- only to realize it’s a disguised Irken standing tall on his PAK legs.
“HEY!”
“Oh? An Irken?”
“WHY AREN’T YOU OR YOUR SHIP DISGUISED? YOU’RE GONNA BLOW YOUR COVER!”
Borgz cringes at his loud volume and creates more distance between himself and Zim. “Yeah…” He scratches the back of his head and looks off to the side in shame. He waves a shaky hand to the other aliens. “Back on the ship, crew!” As the aliens hobble back to their ship, Borgz apologizes to Zim. “Sorry about all… this,” Borgz pauses to pull a flask out of his coat to take a swig from it. “We didn’t realize that-- uh, our friend over there led us to a planet already claimed by the Irken Empire. We’ll just be taking our leave.” He hums and holds the flask up to Zim’s face with a raised, hairless brow.
Zim’s eyes narrow at Borgz. He scowls and slaps his hand away. “No, thank you.”
Borgz laughs and puts the flask away. He walks away but not before giving him a thumbs up. “Good luck with Operation Impending Doom II, sir.”
“Yeah! FUCK IT UP!” Spoofly cheers Zim on between two of his hands cupped around his mouth.
“Wait! What about your little friend--”
“Huh?” Spoofly pokes his head out through the crack of the ship’s doors. “What was that? Can’t hear you over the sound of us leeeeaa-ving!”
As the ship levitates above the ground and begins to fly away, Dib rushes off behind it, cell phone in hand snapping pictures and calling out for them to stop.
Zim’s a little surprised at how easily they caved but figures since they are criminals-- to what degree is unknown-- they probably cower away from any sort of authority, even an alien invader. They’re nothing like the planet jackers; they respected Zim’s claim on this planet when they mistakenly thought it wasn’t marked as Irken territory. Although he knows he should stop Dib, that Doralalalian-- he can tell by the antennae-- has already caused such a ruckus. She’s drawing too much attention to their neighborhood. Soon, her ship will be seen and the street will be clamoring with journalists, photographers, paranormal investigators, the police-- Zim shivers at the thought and let his PAK legs lower him to the ground. He marches right up to the sidewalk leading to the house only to stop when the front door swings open. The Doralalalian with the horrible human disguise steps out of the house with another Earth-female at her side.
“They can never learn to shut up! It really just makes me wanna pour molten silver down their throats. Let’s see you tell me to clean my room through your screams, Brenda!” The ‘Doralalalian’ snarls out. “Oh, wait! Lemme just lock this!” She pulls out a pair of keys and points it at the ship. It honks loudly.
That’s it, Zim has had enough. He marches up to the alien and he has to tilt his head to look up at her. “You! Who are you?!”
Lottie groans and rolls her eyes. “Don’t mind him, hun. He’s just the neighborhood weirdo-- always up to something! This kid has a bone to pick with everybody.” She turns to Zim and crouches down slightly to be eye level with him. “Listen, buddy. Isn’t it past your curfew? Don’t mommy and daddy need to tuck you in?”
Like an angry dog, Zim growls out and grits his teeth. Before he can lash out again, the two have already gotten invested in their own conversation.
“Hey, wait-- speaking of mom and dad-- how are your parents, Lottie?”
“Oh, my mom is still cheating on him with just about any guy who’s dick is as thick as his wallet--”
Like before, Zim starts yelling out to gain their attention. “Hey! I’m not done yet! Listen to Zim!”
Lottie gasps. “That reminds me! I forgot my wallet!” She runs back into the house with a groan. “Be right back!”
The ‘Doralalalian’ moves to lean against her crashed spaceship. She pulls out her communicator to call a tow-and-repair guy.
Zim puts his hands on his hips. “Are you going to listen now?”
“Uh?” The girl grunts back.
“Who are you? And why have you come to Earth disguised as a human? And why haven’t you disguised your ship?! And what’s with having your antennae out? That’s a dead giveaway!”
She looks away from her screen and squints down at him. “You’re a fucked up lookin’ Irken.”
“EXCUSE YOU--!”
“That’s what you are, right?” She goes back to scrolling through a list of contacts. “But you have hair and your eyes are… weirdly human. It’s kinda creepy.”
“It’s a disguise!” He says exasperatedly.
“Well.” She smacks her lips and looks back down to him. “So is this.” She points to her antennae.
“Heh?” Zim grunts out.
She takes off her headband, the antennae bobbing back and forth as she waves them in his face. “See? Just a gag. I thought it’d be funny!”
Lottie exits the house in an excited skip and locks the front door behind her. “I’m all ready, now!” With a spring in her step and her hands clasped behind her back, Lottie leads the way.
(Y/n) clicks her tongue catching Zim’s attention and she sticks the headband onto his head. He looks from her to the bouncing silver bulbs with curiosity. She snorts at him in brief laughter and follows her friend down the street.
Zim walks off the property and back to the center of the cul-de-sac to watch as they walk down the road, talking casually like old friends.
He rubs his chin in thought. “What could a Doralalalian be doing on planet Earth?”
Suddenly, a terrified scream comes from the house right next to Zim’s. He sees his neighbor, Al, pointing and screaming at him. “AN ALIEN!” He drops his gardening hose to the ground and runs into his house.
With another angry growl, Zim tears the antennae off his head and throws them down to the ground. He already has to deal with Dib, now he’s got to wipe “Al’s” memory. ‘She has got to go.’ First step though, is dealing with her ship. It’s out in the open and that’s no good.
“Borgz! I’m not messin’ around!” (Y/n) yells into her communicator.
“Aw, geez. Lay off!” Spoofly’s voice rings out.
“Spoofly! Get off the line!” (Y/n) grips her communicator. “Go back to making out with the laundry drone--”
“THAT WAS ONE TIME!”
Borgz hollers his name in annoyance.
“Not cool, dude,” Spoofly mutters before his line shut off.
“Anyway.”
“Anyway.”
“I know you have my ship! This isn’t funny, Borgz!”
“I would never! The game’s no fun like that because then who chases after who? But trust me, when you’re out of that solar system, game on! I’m gonna catch you!”
“Why when I leave the solar system?”
“You know, there was an Irken on that planet. That’s why we left as soon as we came and your legs are still attached to your body.”
“An Irken? Yeah, I saw. So, what? We’ve bumped into one of their kind before. Remember that one woman who bought a ton of guns for her little ‘gang’?”
“Yeah, she bought ships too, remember?”
“Man, she started out from the bottom! Nothing but money to her name! Like, what alien do you see out and about in the galaxy that doesn’t have their own ship! Anyway, what’s the deal? So what? Is this guy just a gangleader, too?” (Y/n) leans back on the porch swing in front of Lottie’s house and rocks herself back and forth with the toe of her white boots.
“Not all of them are the same. I don’t s’pose you heard of the armada and Operation Impending Doom but they’re a pretty big deal. You don’t want to have any bad blood with one, let alone get in the way of their mission.”
She sits up and begins scanning her surroundings. “Is that so?”
“That one was an Invader. He claimed that planet. And you’re on his planet.”
She bites her tongue wanting to shout, ‘this is my planet!’ but Borgz doesn’t need to know that about her. “So you’re saying…” She trails off, not seeing how this all connects.
“What I’m saying is, he’s trying to do this undercover and you were blowing his cover. He probably took your ship if you left it parked in front of that house like you said. He was really upset we didn’t disguise our ship.”
She huffs.
“Do you want us to come get you?”
“No! I’m getting my ship back!”
“You’re gonna die,” he tells her flatly.
“Well, I’ve never died before, so--” she stops herself and shrugs, even though he couldn’t see it.
Borgz sighs. “You’re not gonna listen to me, are you? Stubborn, as usual. Good luck, (Y/n).”
“I will,” she says back.
“That didn’t make sense.”
She spends the next ten minutes rocking herself on the porch swing deep in thought. She tries to devise a plan but she has no weapons, no crew, and no idea of who she was up against. But she has her teleporter and her keys she could use as a knife-- as she’d seen in those self-defense videos. She decides she’ll just wing it.
(Y/n) stares down at the underside of her forearm and runs her finger over the small scar where a chip had been implanted-- the chip that helps her control the teleportation device remotely.
She envisions the carpeted floors of the stairs in the house, steps forward, and pulls the trigger on the side. Now standing on the stairs, she makes her way to her friend’s bedroom in a similar fashion. “Lottie, it’s getting late. I’m gonna get goin'.”
“Oh! I didn’t realize you had a place to stay,” Lottie murmurs as she folds a blanket. (Y/n) feels a weight sink in her stomach at the sight of her friend’s bedroom. There are blankets and pillows set up in the same fashion they had for their sleepovers when they were younger.
(Y/n) scoffs. “Of course!”
“Your parents are letting you stay with them again?”
(Y/n)’s smile tightens at the painful memory of when her parents kicked her out. But she hadn’t told Lottie much about where she had disappeared to for the past five years. To save face, she decided to hold off on telling her that she never really did reconcile with her family. “Uh, yeah! Duh… We-- it’s-- it’s taco night, tonight! Woo!” She cheers. “Dinner with the fam’! Then some Scrabble! Who doesn’t love family game night?”
Lottie furrows her brows but smiles anyway. “I’m glad to hear you worked things out with them. I was worried for a while.” She looks to a pillow she fluffs in her hand before tossing it into the pile of the other dozen that she had brought up for (Y/n). “Y’know? I thought you’d been alone all these years. No one knew what happened to you and it’s not like we were eager to talk to your parents about it all. What would they say when they found out we lost their daughter ‘cause we were all tripping on acid--”
“Yeah! What would they say? It’s better that you hadn’t,” (Y/n) assures her. She waves a hand casually, dismissing the matter that was turning her insides to mush. “They totally understood. When I told them. Any-way, I had a question.”
“Anything!”
“That weird kid?”
“Uh-huh.”
She makes finger guns at Lottie. “Where does he live?”
Waving to Lottie over her shoulder, (Y/n) hides the deep frown on her features. So far, nothing played out like she intended. For months, she fantasized about the day she’d come back to Earth. First, she’d use a human restroom, the first one she would have seen in five years. Then, she’d beat her old enemies to a pulp before tying them to a hydrogen bomb and shooting the whole damn thing into space. Of course, her more realistic goals also include telling Lottie, her most trusted friend, the whole truth of her disappearance.
But, how can she?! How can she when humans are so dumb! Of course, she's human, too.
(It was the denial, though. The denial and ignorance that made humanity so stupid compared to the slightly-less-stupid (Y/n).)
When Lottie questioned her about the spacesuit and U.F.O. in her front yard, parked right on top of her mother’s tulips, (Y/n) had jokingly told her, “That’s a government spaceship!” To her dismay, Lottie bought it. She bought it right away and without much convincing. And this is the same girl who’ll spend hours in the mall to leave with one top.
And when Lottie said the horrible, “oh, okay!” in response to such a lie, (Y/n) could practically see the nails being stuck in her coffin. And she cursed herself for being such a good liar. Something about the distant, far-away look in Lottie’s eyes makes (Y/n) question her dream future with the girl. There’s a sneaking suspicion that, although she planned to tell Lottie the truth-- eventually! -- that might not ever happen. It’s a feeling that you shove deep down but it invades your mind like a weed, because weeds flourish even with neglect.
But, maybe she’s being dramatic! It’s only day one, afterall.
“Hey!”
(Y/n) spins around and stops in her tracks to face her friend who’s peeking out her front door.
Lottie looks from (Y/n) to the quirky, green house right over her shoulder. “That weird kid?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is he an alien?”
(Y/n)’s eyes widen. So, there was hope!
“I mean, he makes it so obvious!”
A smile slowly creeps onto her face but then Borgz’s words come to mind. Although it’s certainly preferred she spills the tea about the alien invader to her best friend of many years-- in the grand scheme of things maybe blowing the cover of an alien she didn’t want to rub the wrong way isn’t the best idea. For right now, at least. She’ll get her ship back and take to the stars and then she’ll tell Lottie about the Irken, about any alien she wants to hear about, about every crazy thing that’s happened to her in the past five years.
“No.”
“Oh, okay!”
‘Soon,’ she reminds herself with strain. (Y/n) continues her walk across the street to Lottie’s neighbor who, “just kinda showed up one day.”
The house is so obviously alien! It looks a lot like the homes of the Doralalalians, or the Xaldruxians, with a splash of Groigol! Then she notices the men’s room sign on the front door. She cocks her head to the side and gawks at it. Come to think of it, just how long had this alien been on Earth and how had she not noticed him sooner? Curiously, the door seems to disappear and she’s staring into a living room that looks a lot more standard compared to the outside of the home.
“Ahem?”
“Where’s the women’s restroom, by any chance?” She asks the humanoid-Irken with a smile, making a jab at his horrible Earth cover-up.
“What?”
To answer her earlier question, it seems his stay on Earth hadn’t been a long one if he wasn’t understanding her brilliant humor. “Right… so! I noticed you’ve snatched my ship. Can I have it back, please-and-thank-you.”
The Irken scoffs at her and opens his door wider to assert dominance, hands propped on his hips. “Your very existence is blowing my cover! I shall have no Doralalalian getting in the way of my invasion.”
Just the mention of the species reminds her of that couple she saw at the factory and of Monique. She scowls. “I’ve met a Doralalalian and they are duh-umb with a bold, italicized, capital D.” But this is no time to throw shade with another alien. “Anyway, I just want my ship back.”
Zim tilts his head to look past (Y/n) at his neighbor who was outside pacing her front lawn.
“AL?!” She calls out over and over again but stops at the sound of their loud conversation, to the complete obliviousness of (Y/n) who took to gossiping about every alien species she could think of.
“You ever notice how Gork-mothers always have to make a point about their sons in the Gork-lympics? Like, it’s required for them to participate! They’re not special and I don’t care about how chubby his poison sacs were at birth-- WOAH!”
At the narrowed gaze of Al’s wife, Zim grabs (Y/n)’s arm and yanks her into the base and slams the door behind him. He circles around her with a glare. “You’ve been a real glorpsquag in my squeedlyspooch, Doralalalian!”
“(Y/n).”
He grunts in confusion.
“That’s what you can call me. I’m not a Doralalian. Haven’t we been over this?”
“I’ve never met a (Y/n) before, and I’ve traveled throughout the galaxy!”
She chortles in disdain. Maybe humans aren’t alone in their stupidity. “What? No! I’m human! See!” To demonstrate, she pulls and squishes at her cheeks, in case he thought it was a mask or hologram. Which he did.
His distaste, to put it lightly, for humans became apparent when he backs up from (Y/n) in fear.
“Oh, yeah. I guess that’d normally mean bad news for you since I’m the species you’re trying to conquer. To make a really long story short: I got abducted ‘bout five years back but I came here ‘cause I had some… unfinished business I needed to take care of. The only thing keeping me in your… hair? is this whole misunderstanding with you totally-accidentally-not-on-purposely taking my ship! Y’see, I paid good money for her and I’m gonna need ‘er back because me and my friend are gonna take ‘er to outer space!”
He stares at her blankly before bursting out in laughter. “You humans! So naive! So stupid,” he growls out, his tone becoming serious once again. “You’ve only been on Earth for all but four hours and you’ve already managed to add a memory wiping of the whole neighborhood, among other things, to my ever-growing list of things to do before I can conquer your filthy planet!”
“You’re really gonna memory-wipe the whole block?” She asks, her lip curling in a grimace.
He sighs in annoyance. “Well, no. The humans are too stupid to connect something like that to me-- it’s you they'd want to dissect, not me--”
“Yeah, ‘cause I was gonna say, that’d take too long and probably wouldn’t be worth the effort.”
“YOU DARE INTERRUPT ZIM?”
She flinches back. His hands are clenched into fists, probably to keep himself from clawing her eyes out. “Ooo-kay, good talk! And about my ship?”
“Not happening.”
“Okie dokie!” She strides to the door with such purpose, it catches the Irken off-guard. She might’ve made it out too, if she hadn’t lingered as she did. With a sneer, she tells him, “I have my ways. Let’s see you deny me my own goddamn ship with your guts strewn on a lab table!” She throws her head back to cackle menacingly as Borgz had taught her, but her mocking jeers are cut short when she’s suddenly hanging upside down, suspended by magenta cords that sprouted from above. (Y/n) tilts her head up to stare at the high ceiling filled with cords, cables, and probably weaponry.
Zim strolls up to her, nonchalantly inspecting his claws. “Oh, what was that you were saying? Something about guts on a lab table--?”
“How didn’t I notice all that before--”
“BECAUSE THAT SOUNDS LIKE A GRAND IDEA!” He yells over her. He was rather proud of his comeback and for her to speak over him like that is just rude.
“Does your T.V. have cable?”
He walks towards his couch which tilts back revealing an elevator shaft. “Shut up, human.” He waits for the elevator to rise to their level.
“Do you have Netflix--”
Instead of waiting, he has her tossed down the several stories to the ever-rising elevator platform. She wails out in pain when she hits the platform with an echoed THUD! The elevator finally rises to his floor and the crumpled form of the restrained human looks up at him pathetically.
At his command, Computer begins to lower them down to one of the lowest parts of the lab where Zim will have fun finding out what makes the annoying human tick. “Learn to heed my warnings and that won’t happen again. Or, maybe it will--”
“Hulu?”
He cries out in frustration and the human laughs at him.
‘Deja vu,’ (Y/n) thinks to herself from her seated position in the glass containment chamber of Zim’s lab.
It’s just like her first abduction all over again and she has a feeling she was maybe in over her head for challenging an Irken invader. It especially doesn’t help her nerves that the room they’re in is full of other experiments. Humans with odd mechanisms and extra limbs that had been surgically attached were floating in green goo in giant test tubes that lined the walls. These people are still alive and very conscious. Although they can’t speak or move much, she has enough proof just from the pitiful looks she receives from every man, woman, and child. A teen boy with a giant alien probing device lodged in his forehead presses his hands against the glass and despite the permanent smile on his face, he looks sad. She can see it in his eyes and such a deplorable sight makes her squirm.
But anything is better than watching Zim. He’s in the center of the dimly-lit room performing brain surgery. He must have great eyesight to go without the bright fluorescent lights used in hospitals. She makes the mistake of glancing over just as he lifts the flap of skin to cover the man’s scalp. There’s a lot of blood. The alien shifts though, thus blocking her view of the gruesome scene. He appears to be suturing now with a pair of forceps and wire in hand.
Her fate is sealed and tied nicely with a bow-- probably made of a ribbon of someone’s entrails. That she can accept. Her time on Earth had been miserable. She should’ve followed the path she was already on because this just shows her for trying to go back home. Her first day on Earth and what happens? She’s abducted, again! However accepting she is of her fate, she doesn’t plan on making the alien’s experimentation on her fun or easy.
“So, when you said memory-wipe, you meant a brain transplant between a man and a turtle?”
“Silence, human.”
“Is that what you’re gonna do to me?”
Throwing his tools down suddenly, he whips his head around to face her.
“Can I have the brain of a dolphin? They’re supposed to be pretty smart cookies-- oh, a cookie sounds good right now! Anyway, they’re smart enough to have sex for fun! They’ll even inject themselves with enough poison from a pufferfish to get high.”
He hops off the stool and slowly approaches her. “I’ll tell you what I have in store for you, Earth scum. A ‘brain-transplant’ as you called it would be merciful.” He stands with his arms behind his back and she’s now able to get a good look at him without his disguise.
He’s not as “fucked-up-looking’” as she had originally thought. His eyes are large and magenta-colored and his antennae are perked stiffly from where they sprouted on his scalp. He has a sharp jawline but a baby-face at that same time. His eyes are glassy and his skin is smooth and a vibrant green. Like grass or emerald.
She scoots closer to the glass that separates them. “You’re pretty.”
He scoffs at her. ‘Is she even listening?’
After a moment of silence paired with an intense staring contest, he lunges forward, slamming his fists onto the glass. He fights back a grin when she flinches and scoots away from him until her back is flush against the other side. “First, I’ll test the durability of your inferior human lungs when they are mixed with water. Just how much water can they hold?”
“Tha’s not what they’re made for!” She weakly protests.
“How can we know for sure before the experiment? All hypotheses are followed by trials and tests. Then, we’ll see just how fragile your bones are! If all goes well and you’ve lost control of your four limbs, we’ll get to see what happens when we mix your insides with a chemical of my own design!” He steps back to lead her eye to a cylindrical prison in the far corner. A chicken’s left wing is featherless and whatever skin is left on its bones is red and blistered.
“Is the chicken… the chemical?”
He stares down at her, bewildered. “NO! How-- how can hyoo-mans be so stupid?!”
His gaze is unwavering and although her stare matches his, it’s like she’s looking right through him. “Is that a no on the dolphin-brain?”
“AHHHHH!” His cry of frustration trails to a quiet grunt. “I have a better idea! Your slow and grotesque death is also too merciful for a pig-monkey like yourself. I’ll spare your life but only so that you may live to bear witness to the destruction of your planet. Let’s see that act of blissful ignorance when your loved ones are begging for mercy at the powerful hands of ZIM!”
She interrupts his loud guffawing. “I’d like to see what else those powerful hands can do.” She wiggles her brows at him.
But he doesn’t understand her lewd comment and instead takes this as an invitation for more insults and threats. “SO MUCH can these amazing hands do! SO MUCH! You’ll get to experience it first-hand!”
“I like the sound of that--”
“When I rearrange your innards and put you on full display for all the humans to see. They’ll know then what awaits them at my conquering!”
At this point, his threats are more incoherent babbling than anything she feels she has to worry about.
“I will be the downfall of humanity, me, ZIM! I’ll make anyone who’s ever loved you mourn the loss--”
“Jokes on you, knucklehead, no one’s ever loved me before!” She says defiantly, her nose pointed in the air.
His hands which were once dramatically raised to the sky fall to his sides.
“Besides, I don’t really care what you do with Earth or humans. This planet’s a ticking time bomb, anyway. Your leaders are pretty dumb for sending you here.”
He points a finger at her which shakes with his anger. “YOU DARE INSULT THE ALMIGHTY TALLEST?!”
She grins, his random lash-outs no longer phased her. "I'm just telling it how I see it," she tuts.
“Stupid, naive Earth-monkey. Do not underestimate the plans of The Almighty Tallest. They know exactly what they’re doing. My plans for the conquest of Earth are only one of many… other con-quests and is only a fraction of what Operation Impending Doom II will be!”
“Oh-ho-ho, okayy. Well, do your alien overlords know that Earth is a dying planet?”
“Every planet is a dying planet!” He doesn’t expect a human to realize this, even if she is from space. They’re all so ignorant to their tiny insignificance compared to the vastness of their ever-expanding universe. “No ball of dirt such as this is a stranger to the hands of fate!”
“Do they know that in thirty years a huge chunk of land is going to break off this continent triggering a volcano that has been dormant for centuries in what can only be described as Pompeii-on-crack? What the lava doesn’t obliterate will be suffocated by a giant cloud of death that’ll coat the entire western hemisphere of the planet.”’
“YOU LIEEE!”
“Do your leaders know that in less than forty years an asteroid is going to collide with Earth that’ll ultimately destroy whatever living thing that hasn’t been wiped out by global warming. You Irkens must be pretty dumb to come all this way to take over a solar system of dying balls of dirt and clouds of gas. I mean, Jupiter’s basically a giant space fart, so--”
“SILENCE! CHANGE OF PLANS!” He paces back to the table where Al lies and quickly sutures the rest of his scalp back on. He calls for G.I.R.
That’s when the cutest thing in the world graces (Y/n) with his presence. A short, silver robot with bright blue lights for eyes stands at attention while saluting the taller Irken. “Hi, master!”
“AWWW! Who’s this cutie?” (Y/n) coos while tapping a finger on the glass. Neither of them gives her their attention, however.
“G.I.R. I want you to prepare the lab for the organ… liquefying… procedure-thingy.”
“I don’t wanna!” The robot throws his hands back like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Then suddenly, he’s obeying, pushing Al on the table to a dark corner of the room. He comes back with another lab table that he wheels in. On the sides of the table is an alien mechanism (Y/n) has never seen before. It’s made up of cylinders of bubbly, multi-colored substances.
“You were going to be spared your life but you just had to go and insult Irken-kind. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself and I have no pity for you,” he says in a somber tone, his trill voice deepening significantly.
She shrugs.
He’s hesitant to question her, but it doesn’t matter because she’s going to prattle on no matter how unprompted it is.
“Well, I’m gonna die anyway. Might as well be in an alien laboratory with my liquefied organs dispensing out of every orifice of my body like a fucked-up soft-serve. Let’s make some ice cream.”
“ICE CREAM?!” The short robot yells in excitement. His stout legs carry him to Zim’s side who stands across from the human. He waves his hands in Zim’s face. “Master! Master! Master!”
“What?”
G.I.R. reaches up and grabs Zim’s cheeks to bring him eye-level. “IIIICE CREEEEEAAAAM! Let’s go get ice cream! Let’s. Go. Get. Ice cream!” He shakes Zim back and forth with every word.
Zim slaps the robot’s hands away and straightens his posture. “I’m sorry, G.I.R. But, we do not have the Earth monies to spend on ice cream, right now.”
(Y/n) clamps her hands over her ears when the robot screams in a shrill voice at the top of his little robot lungs, sobbing and hyperventilating. Even the glass barrier does little to block out the ear-piercing tantrum.
“ALRIGHT, ALREADY!” Zim huffs. “We’ll go get ice cream!”
“YAY!”
The robot’s metal legs pound against the metal flooring as he runs to the elevator. Zim follows behind and (Y/n) notes how his gait is that of a soldier in front of his commander. He steps on the elevator and turns to the human as she watches the two intently.
“You, don’t move! When I get back, we will continue with the liquefication of your organs,” he tells her with a sinister smile-- which falls at her response.
“Bring me back a smoothie?”
The elevator raises and they are out of sight.
And as if on cue, Al suddenly sits up. She can hardly make out his wide eyes and panicked expression from the dark corner he’s stored in. There’s a thud and then the sound of skin slapping against a flat surface. In the halo of light, she sees two human hands dragging the body of Al forward and strenuously. His deep voice reverberates throughout the lab.
“My-my shell! Where is my shell! Why is it so cold? It’s so cold without my shell!” And then he’s on his back, rocking side to side like… a turtle on its back. His erratic behavior is unsettling to say the least and she decides she’s had enough.
At least with the alien the creepy atmosphere was sorta fun. “This is fifty shades of fucked up,” she declares and pulls her teleporter out of her bra. Taking a deep inhale of fresh air once she teleports out of the chamber, she cringes at the strong aroma of cleaner and chemicals. ‘It smells like a hospital in here.’
An abrupt, booming voice causes her to flinch. It speaks in a language she doesn’t understand. There’s a screen in the center of the room with a giant, red, alien symbol she recognizes-- something used for urgent alerts. It’s flashing repetitively. She figures if she changes the language settings, she’ll find out what was so important. Despite not being able to read Irken, she navigates through the settings very easily, used to not understanding foreign languages. The only problem is picking the right one since all the labels are also in Irken. Luckily, there are symbols next to each one and she locates the category for Earth.
"AVERTISSEMENT: INTRUDEUR INCONNU--”
“Nope.” She tries the next one.
“PROEIDOPOIISI: AGNOSTOS EISAGOGEAS--”
And the next one.
“VNIMANIYe--”
“ADVERTENCIA: ¡INTRUSOR DESCONOCIDO EN EL--”
“WARNING: UNKNOWN INTRUDER IN THE OPERATING LABORATORY, LEVEL C!”
She cheers at her own victory until the message finally clicks.
“INTRUDER LOCATED!”
She turns around to find herself staring down the barrel of an Irken laser-cannon.
“A little warning, maybe?”
He gags at the sight. Wordlessly, he hands his robot servant a wad of napkins to clean up the dribble on his furry costume. It’s his fourth cone and of course, they were all some bizarre flavor like cheese or baloney.
Zim jerks his hand away when G.I.R. grabs the napkin, his ice cream covered paw almost brushing against him. With a scoff, he continues down the path to his front door and swings it open. He’s eager to get back to work.
When he swings the door open, he’s met with a sweet aroma that makes him suddenly crave whatever treat was emitting it. Then, he realizes that there should be no reason for the base to smell so good and that his experiment shouldn’t be lounging on his couch watching his T.V. She’s sat upside down but still manages to stuff her face from a plate of--
“COOKIES!” G.I.R. swallows the rest of his cone whole and is suddenly at (Y/n)’s side. He practically inhales the cookies with loud lip-smacking sounds.
Zim slams his door and storms up to (Y/n), fists at his sides.
“You’re blocking the T.V.”
“I told you not to move! How did you even get out?”
“I punched my way through the glass,” she lies.
“And what is this!” He points to the plate on the floor. “You baked cookies?!”
“I got the munchiessss. You can have some.”
“Where’d you even get the ingredients for this?”
“The store, duh?”
“Let me get this straight. You escaped from my lab, escaped from my base, then broke back into my base for imprisonment?”
“Couldn’t’ve summed it up better myself.”
Zim cries out in frustration and kicks the plate of cookies away.
Upon noticing the trail of tears pouring from the green dog’s eyes, she tells G.I.R. that there are more in the oven. He cheers and runs into the kitchen as a small floating moose enters the living room.
It floats to Zim’s side noiselessly and in the odd awkward silence, (Y/n) feels his cross-eyed gaze to be especially intimidating.
“Uh… what is that--?
Zim, after he’s done spacing out, turns to the floating robot-animal. “Minimoose! Computer! And just where were you two during all of this?!”
“Nyeh!” Minimoose chirps.
“Taking a nap?! While our plans are at stake? You don't even require sleep!”
“Nyehhh?”
“I don’t know why you would buy a futon if you didn’t need sleep. And what’s your excuse, Computer?”
(Y/n), awkwardly scoots on her backside to the side, eyes glued to the T.V.
“Computer? Computeeeer! Answer Zim!”
G.I.R. joins her on the couch, now with another plate of cookies and they both start snacking on the dessert together.
“COMPUTER!” Zim yells much louder, loud enough to drown out the sound of the reality show.
(Y/n) groans, not turning her attention away from the T.V. “He’s muted.”
“What?!” Zim growls.
But she ignores him when G.I.R. changes the channel to the angry monkey show so she could snatch the remote from him and change it back.
“Computer! Unmute yourself and answer to your master!”
There’s a tiny beep followed by, “zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero--”
“WHAT DID YOU DO?”
“I figured a math equation could be enough to keep him distracted so I asked him what one trillion to the trillionth power would be. I don’t think he’ll be stopping anytime soon, though.” She explains while one-handed wrestling the remote from G.I.R. who wails about the angry monkey.
Zim, with his hands on hips, glares down at her like a parent to a misbehaving child. Without breaking his gaze on her he says, “Computer, provide the sum in scientific notation.”
Computer stops in his repetition abruptly. “One trillion to the trillionth power is one times ten to the one- trillion, two-hundred billionth power.” He answers in a flat and robotic tone. Then, Computer sighs. “What did I miss? I think I blacked out for--” his voice goes flat again. “Approximately one hour, twenty-seven minutes and fourteen seconds.”
“YOU CHANGED HIS LANGUAGE SETTINGS?!” He turns up to the ceiling at the disembodied voice. “Computer?! How could you fall for her schemes? You let an inferior human trick you!”
“Oh, my humblest apologies, sire!” The Computer mocks.
Then Zim turns to (Y/n), four lasers guns springing out his PAK aimed at her head. “And as for you!”
She screams and jumps to her feet, sprinting towards the kitchen.
“Computer, DETAIN HER!”
“Oh, I’m not in time-out anymore?”
(Y/n) uses this spare moment of Computer sassing Zim to shimmy down the garbage can. She makes it to the next level down and runs as fast as her legs can carry her.
She stops when she comes to fork in the long hall. She rakes her fingers through her hair panting heavily. “‘Kay, playtime’s over. Where’s he got my ship?” She asks herself.
The sound of spidery, metal legs running behind her makes her skin crawl. She glances over her shoulder to see Zim advancing after her on his PAK legs and she rushes off.
His lab is a labyrinth, but fortunately for her, she comes to a room full of firearms and edged-weapons lining its walls. But for the rather slow girl, it takes several moments for this luck to dawn on her. Zim has a grin on his face as his legs carry him towards her until her back hits a wall. He lifts himself high to tower over her where he has the human cornered. She shrinks into herself. Wide eyes scan her surroundings for a possible solution. To her left, is a regular looking handgun, something she has experience with so she snatches it from the wall and points it at Zim.
“Stay back! I know how to use this!”
Zim hesitates.
She adjusts her grip in her sweaty, shaking hands and accidentally presses a trigger and a tank of orange fluid pops out from the gun. She squeals in shock.
Zim laughs at her and inches towards her once more.
“Ok, well, I don’t. But you don’t wanna see me try!”
Ignoring her threat, he lunges at her with a war cry to wrestle the gun from her hands. She throws herself to the side and misfires. The laser blasts through the wall and the metal melts away in bright red heat.
“HEY! Watch where you aim that thing!” Zim yells.
(Y/n) is too focused on the giant hole in the other wall, however. She can hear the sounds of pigs oinking and running around. G.I.R.’s head jumps into view and he waves at the two. “HI, MASTAH! I can see you from the piggy room, now!”
“G.I.R.! ATTACK!”
The robot’s eyes glow red and he salutes. “Sir, yessir!” He somersaults through the hole and takes aim at the human with a laser. (Y/n) quickly exits the weaponry room, both alien and robot servant hot on her heels. Eventually, they make it back to the main laboratory.
Once there, Zim lingers to the side, shouting out orders for G.I.R. The robot, despite having guidance, has no luck in stopping the human. The best marksman in the galaxy can’t land a hit on her, let alone a defective S.I.R. unit. Every dodge of every laser results in the destruction of one of Zim’s machines or another hole in the walls of his lab. Dodge after dodge, explosion after explosion, Zim’s angry and determined attitude fades away into oblivion and is soon replaced with panic.
“Wait! G.I.R.! Watch out for the--”
(Y/n) teleports out of the way allowing a laser to burst through a tank of flammable gas, scattering flames everywhere. Zim frantically pats an ember on his tunic out with his hands.
“No! Not the monitors!”
(Y/n) teleports in front of every security monitor in the lab. One-by-one, they’re blasted through.
“Stop! STOP! Stop this madness!” The grovelling alien is on his knees, fists shaking above him.
None the wiser are the ever-determined robot and the trickster human who’s enjoying how easy it is to destroy every important piece of equipment that could've been used to stop her as she ran for her life.
In her confidence and gusto, she takes to prancing across the floor, using lab tables as skateboards to slide quickly through the lab, and twirling around alien mechanisms. It's when she uses a set of cables to swing her body around gracefully when the terror comes to an end. G.I.R.’s lasers fire through the cables and the lack of tension causes the wires to zip through the elaborate pulley system that is attached to--
WHAM!
The elevator falls onto G.I.R. and their chase is over.
The alien calls out to him, and when he doesn’t respond, he calls for Computer.
But, to his relief, the elevator is slowly lifted up and blue optics blink innocently from the dark. G.I.R., while still holding the very heavy platform above his head, stares out at the destroyed lab in awe. Then a smile is on his face. “Wow, master. I like what you’ve done with the place!”
The panting human trudges to Zim’s side and she leans on her knees to support herself in her fatigued state. She holds a hand out to him. “Truce?”
He smacks her offer away. “TRUCE?! LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY LAB!”
(Y/n) does so but only feels a surge of pride at the tangled mess of wires, shattered glass, metal scraps, and the blazing fire that was once a secret alien laboratory.
Zim continues. “It’s destroyed! This is top-of-the-line Irken technology! Not only will it take weeks to repair but who knows when I can get all the parts in!”
“Just pay extra for Prime-shipping!” G.I.R suggests.
“Yeah, cheap-ass,” (Y/n) tells him.
“Cheap--?!” He stops short to growl at her.
“Well, I’ll just take my ship and be on my merry way.” She hesitantly steps towards a hall she has yet to go down-- maybe that’s where he’s keeping her ship.
But his voice stops her. “You don't seem to realize the gravity of your situation, Earth-filth.”
“I'm pretty sure on Earth it's something like 10 meters per second squared.” She watches the shorter green man pace around the destruction, putting flames out with his heel as he passes them.
“My mission is now at a stand-still! All my evil plans-- RUINED!”
“That sounds like a personal problem.”
“It is very much your problem,” he starts giving her a deadly look. “Because-I’m-going-to-kill-you!” He rushes after her but grabbing him by the collar, the human easily manhandles the violent alien whose feet just barely touch the floor. She’s strong and her grip on him is resilient even as he thrashes around in her hold, trying to punch or kick at her.
“You already tried that and look where it got you!” She tells him over his yells and insults.
He uses his PAK legs to swipe at her and she withdraws her arm. He lands on the ground on all fours and stares at her in satisfaction when she cradles the fresh wound to her chest. Blood pours from the scratch down her forearm.
“There’s gotta be some agreement we can come too.”
His PAK legs retract and he stands to his feet. “Agreement?”
“Yeah! Like a trade?”
“You’ll pay me monies for the damages you caused in my lab?”
“The damages your robot caused, you mean? And yes.”
“You have the monies to replace all this equipment?”
“Of course, I do!”
He hums out in suspicion.
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“No, I’m only wondering how some lowly human came upon so many monies. But fine. I wouldn’t expect anything less, after all.”
“BUT! I want my ship back.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“What?! Why the fuck not?”
His fists shake as he speaks. “It’s destroyed! Disassembled! I even scavenged it for parts but most of it was junk anyway!”
“You’ll just have to repair it then.” She crosses her arms.
“No way!”
“Yeah, if you didn't send your robot to vaporize me just now or, yknow, KIDNAP ME FOR EXPERIMENTATION, none of this would be a problem! It’s only fair I get something in return. No ship, no deal!”
Zim weighs his options. Maybe he can just send her to Moo-Ping 10 like all of the other annoying aliens he’s sent there. But then he’d have to pay to repair all of this by himself plus the payments to that space-prison-- which were expensive. Or maybe he can just chase her out the base since killing her is not an option. Then again, if she’s serious about exposing him if she doesn’t get her ship back… His best bet is for her to go back to outer space and far, far away from here so she wasn’t a problem. And it seems there’s only way that’s gonna happen… He hates having to give in, but this is the best option. At least he wouldn’t be losing any more monies with this way. “...Fine.”
At the very least, ship repairs should not take him longer than a week!
Unfortunately, Zim had failed to read the fine print of their deal. She had no place to stay and was insistent on freeloading off of him. Regardless, the thought of her leaving the base only makes him worry over all the trouble she can cause for him. So, he reluctantly agreed, not wanting to take any more risks. It didn't take long for him to learn just how unbelievably stubborn the human was, and all in her first day staying in his base! She even managed to convince him to create living quarters for her.
At first, he provided her with just a bed, as that was all she needed. Then, of course, he had Computer attach a bathroom with all the necessary human appliances inside when she threatened to take a shit down the elevator shaft in the kitchen toilet.
She was intolerable and thus he avoided her like the germ she was. When he wasn’t prodding at her with a needle--which he did partially for research purposes and partially to try to keep her in line-- he was hard at work, laboring day-and-night on repairs for the ship. He missed a week of school, which, although may have looked suspicious, was entirely necessary. He didn't need any more stress.
She wasn’t just intolerable, however. Zim would never say it out loud, but she was quite frightening. Frightening in a way that reminded him of the “Halloweenies” he’d see on TV-- like a creepy, stoic vampire or a wicked witch. Whenever he was fed up with her constant questions and lingering around him while he worked, he’d stick her in any cage. A cage with sturdy metal bars, a chamber made of bulletproof glass, a crate with a giant weight covering the top. But it didn’t matter because she escaped all the same. And without a trace.
It wasn’t just that, though. He found his skin crawling at a particular memory, of a time when she didn't escape. She was in the glass containment chamber and he had relayed to her how he planned on harvesting her lungs for his own enjoyment. He was hoping to catch her in the act, as he told the Computer to monitor her activity after he left her alone. Was it scarier that she could escape from any prison he had for her or that she didn’t escape when she had the chance to, when she was well-aware of the horrors that awaited her? Computer had alerted him that he no longer had sight on the human and immediately Zim scurried down to the lab. When he got there, the containment chamber was filled floor-to-ceiling with a cloud of thick white smoke. He wondered, for a moment, if she had melted like a witch, or turned to dust like a vampire exposed to sunlight. He ordered Computer to air out the holding cell and was horrified to find (Y/n) lounging on the floor, a pipe and lighter in her hands. She had hotboxed the containment chamber.
Really, it came to a point where anything she did would set Zim on edge. She was just so weird and unpredictable in the most ridiculous ways. It was like having another G.I.R. in the base, someone who freeloads and just does whatever they want when convenient for them.
He doesn’t like it.
He doesn’t like her.
So, when he finally finishes repairs on the ship nine days later he’s eager to drag her down into the lab to reveal his completed work.
“Behold! Your ship has been finished!”
(Y/n) clasps her hands together in excitement. The finish on the paint makes the ship sparkle in the bright lights of the hangar. He gave it a magenta color rather than the silver it came in when she first bought it. But she likes it. “It looks awesome, dude!”
“Yes, yes. Besides looking awesome, I've made some other modifications of my own. You see, the engine you had before was…” He trails off, not knowing how to dumb it down for the human.
“Trash?” She offers.
“Yeah, it was dookie. But now it resembles the powerful engines us Irkens use in our Voot Cruisers. Their speed is incomparable. Your engine’s power output was pathetic, to say the least, when considering the weight of your vehicle--”
She nudges him with her elbow and makes a motion of her hand passing over her head.
He just stares at her in annoyance at her interruption.
“That engine-spaceship talk is going over my head. Can you just show it to me?”
“I was about to-- if you’d just SHUT UP AND LISTEN FOR ONCE!” He yells so loudly it sends her hair flying back. He clears his throat and pulls out a remote. “Now, allow me to demonstrate.”
The ship lets out a thundering roar before silencing to a low hum. “Ooh, listen to her purrrr!” (Y/n) rolls her tongue and she gives her new spaceship a lustful look.
Meanwhile, Zim repeatedly slams down on the button of the remote. “It-it’s not supposed to make that sound! C’mon! Turn off, turn off!”
(Y/n) points a finger at Zim’s robot slave who sits on the hood of the vehicle while sucking on a metal pipe with a mess of wires in his other hand. “Is that important?”
G.I.R. pulls it out of his mouth and smacks his lips in confusion. “This lollipop tastes funny.”
Zim frowns and his antennae fall flat on his head. “Oh no.”
And the ship explodes in a burst of flames.
The blast sends G.I.R. soaring overhead but he manages to flip himself over and land on his feet next to (Y/n) with a stumble. His hands are in the air, palms facing up. He looks up at her and asks excitedly, “How’d I do?!”
(Y/n) taps her chin. “You botched the landing but that's still like a solid seven.”
Zim has a distant look in his eyes as the ship burns down to the ground. G.I.R. goes back to sucking on the pipe which his alien master snatches out of his hand wordlessly. He storms back to the ship and picks up a toolbox on the way to the destruction. He orders Computer to activate their sprinkler system over the ship and the fires flicker to a dull.
(Y/n) frowns at him, feeling pity for how horribly that failed. He was really proud of the finished product. Hoping to cheer him up she shouts to him as he climbs up the ship with his spider legs. “Hey, I’ll order a pizza for dinner!”
The backdoor to her ship slams shut harshly and she flinches.
“He hates pizza,” G.I.R. tells her. “And meat. And chocolate and ice cream and--”
“Well, what does he like?” She asks over the clatter of Zim stripping the vehicle apart from the inside.
Doors, panels, furniture, scraps of metal, and the like are flung out the open window.
His robot gives her a blank look. She can’t tell if he’s thinking really hard or if he doesn’t understand her question.
“I know what he doesn’t like!”
She gives him a forced smile but begins to lead the robot out of the hangar repair room. “Okay, that’s a start! We’ll narrow that down to figure out what he does like!”
“He also doesn’t like humans or monkeys or piggies...!”