#so going by that logic it’s not too hard to believe that an Irken could lift several times their body weight

[random-iz-stuff]

Something I want to point out is the fact that in the Zimvoid arc, we see this:

Implying that:

Zim on his own can bench press more than three times his own body weight

Irkens in general can bench press more than three times their own body weight

Only being able to lift three times your own weight is considered weak by Irken standards

Point is, Irkens are very strong.

I Headcanon that the full strength of an average Irken is being able to lift about four times their own body weight in Irk gravity, which is twice that of Earth. So Zim could lift about eight times his own body weight on Earth.

#invader zim #headcanons #bugs can lift several times their body weight #Irkens are insectoid-esque creatures #so going by that logic it’s not too hard to believe that an Irken could lift several times their body weight

[rainbow-beanie]

Fanart for @dana-chan-the-control-brain ‘s fanfic tech support: chapter 4 weasel words

 The Computer was broken from his thoughts at the sound of high pitched shrieking. His cameras and processors devoted his attention to the distressed little irken in the experiment room. Who was being attacked by the very same weasels he was experimenting with. Apparently, Weasels did not take kindly to having sleep hypnosis parasites planted in their brains.

Zim ran and shrieked and flailed his arms as the little furry creatures crawled all over him, slathering him with bites, claw marks and laser eyes. A quick scan confirmed that these weasels did not have rabies, they were just angry. VERY angry. And aside from Zim’s panicking and mild bleeding from the bites he appeared unharmed. He was just freaking himself out, making the weasels angrier. He was going to seriously hurt himself if this kept up. Even if it was, admittedly, hilarious to watch.

The Computer wordlessly opened up the weasel containment unit without a verbal command.

“Master, contain the weasels in here.”

Zim then slammed the glass door to the containment unit shut. Panting heavily.

Zim peeled one of the weasels off his face, and threw it in the containment unit. He did the same for the one biting underneath his leggings and two others that were chomping down on his antenna and leg respectively.

“Wheeeeeeeeew… ha… that was a close onnnnAUGHHHH!!!”

Zim reached a new octave as he realized he didn’t notice the weasel clinging to his PAK, that had begun clawing the shell, causing a port to open up and began nibbling on wires to it’s heart’s content.

“AHH! NO NONONONONONONONONO!!! GET OUT OF THEREEEE!”

Zim tried to reach behind his back but instead he squeaked and convulsed as his eyes rolled back and his antenna twitched. He spun around in a circle and fell to the floor, before leaning back upright with his bodyweight only. Jerking and moving in an unnatural way. As if he didn’t have control of his own limbs. His arms and legs behaved like noodles as if the weasel was hosting the world’s worst grotesque puppet show. Zim’s tongue rolled out his mouth as his PAK began flashing red as a warning.

Now this was something the Computer WOULD intervene with. A robotic arm descended from the ceiling and snatched the weasel off Zim’s back, and threw it in the containment unit unceremoniously, crashing it into all it’s other bite-happy brethren before sealing them up again.

Zim fell to the ground, moaning and twitching.

Was he alright?

The Computer ran a scan of Zim’s current state. Specifically his PAK. He cross-compared reference to the scan he took on the first day Zim arrived to Earth. He didn’t have time to go over Zim’s PAK data in depth yet. Between GIR’s food experiments and Zim’s animal experiments, he had a feeling he'd be in pretty high demand over the weekends.

“Master,” The Computer began, speaking in an authoritative neutral voice. “Some nerve ending wiring for your arm control nerve is frayed along with your limb systems and several other nerve wirings. I'll plug in and begin an automatic PAK repair as soo-”

“NO!” Zim shrieked, far more panicked then the Computer ever heard him, and that was saying a lot judging by how jumpy he was.

“N-No.” Zim stammered, shakily getting to his feet, swaying where he stood. “There’s no need for an automatic PAK repair… I can do it myself.”

“......I… what? Are you sure? You can barely stand right now.. And your arms are very limp and...shaking....” The Computer couldn’t help but say aloud.

“Ah, Don’t worry, it’s just a little scratch and some loose wires, it’s fine!” Zim extended his PAK legs to walk to the PAK repair work station, as opposed to walking on his little organic legs that were trembling like jelly. Thankfully, that part of his PAK was undamaged as he was able to extend and use his PAKlegs no problem.

“...With all due respect, Master…” the Computer began as Zim leaned his body against the console, trying to figure out how to word what he would say next. “I don’t believe in your current condition that you would be able to repair your PAK manually.”

For a moment, Zim said nothing. He didn’t snap at him immediately like he normally did. Which worried him. He just leaned his head against the console, closing his eyes for a few moments.

“....Master?”

“EH!?” Zim’s antenna shot upwards and he looked confused. As if he wasn’t talking to him a few seconds ago.

That was very worrisome.

“Let me repair your PAK.” The Computer said in the most soft and stern voice he could muster.

Zim’s antenna twitched, as he realized what the Computer was asking.

“Eh.. Ah, no, don’t worry about it! I’m FINE!”

Before the Computer could argue his reasoning some more, Zim turned around so he could face the workbench and detached his PAK onto the work station. The PAK extended a few extra port wires and crawled onto the bench obediently, apparently used to this type of repair from its host. The lifeclock in the Computer’s systems activated, displaying the ten minute time limit in the center screen of every single camera in the home. A normal precaution so Invader Computers were currently aware when the PAK was attached to their Master and if they were at any risk of dying.

Zim arched his back and gave a long stretch that cracked his spine. He took a deep breath as he flexed his arms and claws, and began blinking each eye separately at a time and flexing his antenna individually from each other. The Computer observed him for a few moments. He consulted his database to see if such behavior was common for irkens who performed manual PAK repair. Oddly, there weren’t many instances of manual PAK repair operated by the irken host itself. PAK maintenance drones would repair other irkens typically, but not themselves. Invaders were trained in basic first aid, due to the nature of their job. They had to spend long quantities of time alone, and basic wear and tear maintenance was expected in their line of work.

A few chewed off wires however, that’s a different story.

“...Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” The Computer began hesitantly, suspecting that Zim had no clue what he was tampering with. He can never know with him.

Zim flexed his claws a few more times before he seemed satisfied, and he grabbed the wielding tool from overhead.

“Huh-hmm.” Zim said plainly. “This kinda thing happens all the time.”

“...You…. your wires get chewed out by weasels all the time?” The Computer asked.

“Yes! Well, no. Well.. I just mean… ya know… trainee combat and all that.”

Invader training combat?.... Zim had his wires yanked out of him before? The Computer suspected that was highly unlikely. Due to the nature of an irken’s PAK, and how they held most of an irken’s consciousness and served as a secondary brain to work alongside their primary one, PAKs were strictly off limits from attacking. Especially during training and simulations. In fair duels one of the main rules is to not mess with a fellow irken’s PAK. Everything else is fair game. Punch them in the eye, yank their antenna or grind the heel of their boot into the spooch. Attacking or tampering with an Irken’s PAK is strictly forbidden and would cause low marks and demerits, and in extreme cases, re-encoding.

“...How does that happen?” The Computer couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Ah, oh ya know how training is..” Zim said distractedly as he began welding and repairing the loose wires. “Stomping or yanking of the PAK to see how long I can last, throwing it back and forth amongst the Elites, hitting it a bit with the brunt of the electro spears a bit too hard…that’s just how it goes. All normal endurance training for only the most elite of the elite.”

…….He was kidding? Right?

"Like this one time during training, my PAK was yanked off and my fellow soilders wanted to see how long I could last, and that skilled Invaders are able to survive past the ten minute mark. Well, my record is about three minutes till. So we waited. They kept it away from me a little bit past my record, one minute was cutting it a little close, but we all had a good laugh about it."

He wasn’t kidding.

“They are just testing to make sure I have the right endurance! They obviously were testing my durability and enguitity! I had to learn a few things about PAK repair if I wanted to complete my Invader training! A few dents and dings like this is nothing.”

.....

The Computer immediately pulled up any information he had based on Zim’s training days as an Elite. He couldn’t find any documented evidence that his fellow elites had bullied him like this, but he did notice the peers he was typically stationed with at the time.

ELITE RED:

SKILLED TACTICIAN AND IMPRESSIVE COMBAT SKILLS

HIGHLY FAVORED BY FORMER ALL MIGHTY TALLEST MIYUKI

CURRENT STATUS: ALL MIGHTY TALLEST RED

ELITE PURPLE

RUTHLESS NO MERCY APPROACH TO COMBAT.

TOP SCORES IN STEALTH

CURRENT STATUS: ALL MIGHTY TALLEST PURPLE

That….

That can’t be right.

That would be impossible.

Logical evidence would suggest that these two were the ones that would purposely mess with Zim’s PAK to give him clear and unfair advantages. However, the Tallest are all powerful and all knowing in their judgements. They wouldn’t have become the Tallest if they were breaking the rules as elites. Even then, while Zim was the runt of his squad, he didn’t deserve such treatment. Either Zim did not know of the protocols or he thought that it was a standard part of training.

But… Zim had to be lying? Right? I mean he’s defective, who knows what crazy thinks?

That’s what the Computer wanted to think. But watching Zim calmly and accurately repair his PAK as if it was normal routine for him suggested otherwise. He’s been at it for about a minute now.

“...Master.” The Computer said lowly and softly, lowering the probability of startling him.

“Hmmm?” Zim responded, laser-focused on his task.

“How are your hands so steady…. You were flailing around with limp arms not to long ago… and your PAK is still damaged.”

Zim blinked up from his work, pausing for a moment before he gave a soft chuckle. It was unlike when Zim laughed loudly to assert his dominance. It was squeaky and soft.

“Silly Computer!” Zim chuckled and he got back to work.

“...Uhhhhh..”

Zim snickered to himself. “You’re a machine, so I don’t expect you to get it.”

What? What was so funny?

“My PAK has been damaged.” Zim then pointed towards his temple. “Not my ORGANIC brain.”

“....I …..”

“Once the PAK is detached, my biological shell draws resources from the organic brain. The nerve endings in those are FINE. It’s the PAK that’s the problem.”

The Computer considered this. While what Zim was saying was true, most irkens didn’t tend to view themselves as a disconnect to their PAK. It was a level of heightened awareness not many had achieved. If an iken’s PAK was damaged, it was common they would still experience pain once it was detached. There were many reports of a PAK being damaged, the PAK thinking that it’s host has broken a leg, and once the PAK was removed, the irken biological shell would still feel as if their leg is broken. Only PAK technicians had this level of understanding on how the PAK brain and organic brain co-exist together.

“You know, for an Irken super Computer, you’re not that smart if you forgot how PAKs work.” Zim snickered.

Oh that little…

“I have not!” The Computer huffed. “Just seeing this level of competence from you is shocking.”

“I know, I know. I am truly amazing!” Zim beamed. Apparently not absorbing the Computer’s insult. Probably for the best.

“Now silence! I need to concentrate.”

The Computer remained silent as he watched Zim work. Zim's hands worked efficiently at a pace that showed he was comfortable making these types of repairs.

Even so, an automatic repair would be faster and more efficient. The Computer took into consideration the stress patterns in his voice and heart rate when he thought he needed an automatic repair. In addition to his reluctance to being scanned or his PAK being scanned.

…...So, he knew he was defective then?

That had to be the logical conclusion. Only Defectives tended to get nervous about PAK fiddling or PAK repair. Although, observing his Master's hands, Zim had no qualms with repairing himself. Due to his intense focus and efficiency, it could almost be described as therapeutic for him.

Then was it the Computer himself he was afraid of?

There was still too much insufficient data for him to make a logical conclusion at the moment. But he will take Zim's comfort in mind when he eventually needs to consult him about PAK and biological repair in the future. Because let's face it, Zim will hurt himself again.

/////////////////////////////

this part made me very emotional, and also made me hate the tallest even more

#invader zim #iz #fanart for fanfic #zim #computer #compapa #tw injury #the tallests are jarks

[monofpoke4life]

Shattered

Rain clouds rumbled in the inky blackness of the midnight skies above as sleek, black car skidded as it rounded a sharp curve within the dense forest. Dib gritted his teeth as he cursed at himself under his breath. His shoulders tense and knuckles white as he raced towards the finish line just up ahead. He could see the dim yet steadily increasingly bright glow filter through the towering evergreens.

 He had to make it! He just has to before-before-before-

He didn't want to think about it! Thinking about it made it more tangible, and the more tangible it became, so did the potential outcomes. He shook the thoughts from his head! He didn't have time! He needed to focus, or else his world he fought so hard to protect would be in shatters.

He could smell the smoke, hydraulics, and other foreign materials as his car skidded to a halt beside another matching, government, standard issue vehicle. The nearly vacant clearing was illuminated by the raging flames of the Irken wreckage just beyond the rigid form of his reckless partner. The roar of his pounding heart in his ears drowned him in noise as he cut the engine with the wreck fully within his sights. He forced down the nauseous dread that sent his insides on a rollercoaster into his throat, and then to loop de loop through every fiber of his being as he rushed out of the car, sidearm in hand.

"Sir! I'm so glad you're here! You won't believe it! We've got one! We actually got one! Just wait until the rest of the goons at the Department of Government Cover Ups get a load of this," Brandon, the young field agent and partner, exclaimed as he continued to point his gun at the injured figure beside the crumpled ship. With gun drawn, Dib steadily but hastily came to stand behind the overeager agent, seemingly aiming at the green, female figure as well. 

"I can't believe it! I mean, I saw it on the radar, but I did it! I shot it down!" Brandon barely registered the way his partner and senior field agent readjusted his hand as it started to tremble, or the tightening of his jaw as Dib gritted his teeth. If he had the energy or time, he'd glare at Brandon for his glee, but now was not the time. 

Instead, he focused his patient gaze onto the angry and frantic amethyst of the female Irken that was still pointing her laser gun at his partner. A miracle she was able to stay upright with the way her labored breathing shook her body, or maybe that was from the intense heat of the flames that were practically against her back, from when she initially crawled out of the wreckage, causing her to sweat profusely. Whatever the case, she was itching to move, yet continued to stand her ground with the gun pointing at her.

"Isn't eerie, boss? I mean just look at its eyes! It keeps glancing at its ship, and keeps trying to shuffle itself closer to it! I think there is something important in there! I think it could be something dangerous or valuable. What do you think, boss?" Brandon rambled, not even noticing the way the alien's growling increased at the mention of the contents of her ship. 

"Have you tried asking it," Dib asked in an eerily calm voice that Brandon failed to notice, or the way neither Dib nor the alien broke their gaze away from the other.

"Uh-er-um, no I didn't! But I have tried talking to it, sir! It just keeps growling at me, and it refuses to put down its weapon. I don't think it understands English, sir," Brandon replied, assured in his logical assumption. 

However, his partner wasn’t as assured, as Dib harshly snapped back, "She understands English!" 

Slightly taken aback by his tone, but just assuming it was from his usual ineptitude, Brandon replied, "Well if you're so confident, sir, ask her to hand over her gun. You are the senior field agent after all."

Dib frowned at this, but stepped forward nonetheless. He didn't lower his guns nor did he move in front of Brandon. He stayed positioned behind him as he did just that.

The sneer on her face morphed into a frustrated frown as she slowly moved the gun away. Letting it loosely dangle from her claw by the bit that protected the trigger, before sliding it across the ground where Dib caught it with his foot.

Kneeling down, Dib kept control of his breathing to be steady and calm, as he picked up the gun and stepped back. It matched the steady rhythm of her own tempo, but not that Brandon noticed. He was too blinded in glee at their progress; however, there was something off that he did notice. 

Despite having her hands up in surrender, her muscles were still taught as if to spring into action at any second. Although not unusual for someone about to be captured, especially one ready to take the slightest opening to escape, but the way her posture seemed to slump in some form of relaxation sent off warning bells.

Like she was relieved.

Before Brandon could fully comprehend what was going on, not that he would've assumed right, he felt the cold barrel of a gun press against the back of his head as Dib demanded, "Drop your gun, Brandon! Drop it, and kick it towards the weeds!" 

Betrayal and horror were the understatements of the century for the look that was on Brandon's face. There was a brief moment of silence, and Dib could practically hear the wheels in Brandon's head turning to figure out a way out of this, dropping his gun in incredulous disbelief. 

He should've known Brandon would try to break free, but as Brandon whipped around and attempted to grab Dib's gun, a shot rang out. Dib knew he had nothing to worry about as a flash of blue darted from behind them, grazing Brandon's cheek. 

"She's an Irken, Brandon," Dib remarked as he struck him with the butt of his gun and kneed him, before staring down at his crumpled and groaning form, as he continued, "She practically has a full armory on her back."

Brandon growled as he was flipped onto his stomach, knee jammed into a kidney, and arms yanked behind his back as his “partner,” slapped some handcuffs on him. He raged and hollered beneath him as he called almost every name he could think of under the sun, especially using the term traitor. However, Dib seemed unphased as he anxiously watched her dart into the wreckage to make sure the precious treasures were unharmed, disappearing in a cloud of billowing smoke.

Noticing her sudden absence amongst all his yelling, Brandon threw back, "Have you no shame, man?! What about your family?! Think of them!!!" 

At this, Dib let his anger slip, focusing more pressure on the knee in Brandon's back as he growled, "I am thinking of my family!" 

Just as he said that, some clanging metal graced their ears as the alien darted out of the smoke and wreckage with a blue, glowing orb in her arms about the size of a large beach ball. However, with all of the smoke and the way she held the orb, it was hard to make out what was inside.

A coughing fit triggered by the smoke wracked her body as she dropped to her knees a safe distance from the smoldering ship, still cradling the blue orb protectively. They watched transfixed, one anxious and the other curious, as the orb seemed to flicker. The force field suddenly dropped, and Brandon felt his heart stop. 

His head was in a full tizzy as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. He focused on the easiest one his mind could handle. A little robot with metal arms extended protectively to encircle two forms. The force field retracting into its antennaless head. It gently set down two, small, fleshy forms in the grass. One in a fetal position, the other limp.

Kids. The robot pulled back to reveal kids! The alien checked calmly yet urgently over the smaller girl with shoulder length black hair and warm brown eyes full of tears. Other than her little toddler chest heaving in fright, she seemed to be okay. However, the other one, a bit slightly older, who was just out of Brandon's line of sight, appeared to be in slightly worse condition. As she shifted her attention to the boy, he could feel Dib leaning forward to desperately catch a glimpse. 

The Irken's form blocked most of the view, as she made a hand motion at the robot towards their general direction. At the silent command, the robot nodded and swiftly slinked like a shadow across the field towards them. 

At the sudden departure of the robot, the little girl with her singed dress and trembling lip followed it's barely perceptible movements with ease. She pushed up her round, cracked, little glasses with the ease and dexterity of a child much older than her, and one with far less chubbier fingers than her toddler form. One more human than her. 

Not that she looked all that different from a human. Her teary eyes followed as the little robot came to a stop in front of them. Its eyes illuminating them in a harsh yet somewhat dim, red glow. 

At the sight of them, the little girl's face contorted in relief and more tears as she went to sprint towards them, but didn't manage to get far as the mother simply hooked a claw in the back of her dress with practiced, almost instinctive ease. Not even looking up as she held a device from her pak above the young boy's body. Brandon gasped as he suddenly felt the pressure on his back remove itself only to have that breath of relief squashed away as the robot quickly took over with the simple command of, "Mimi, gravity mode."

At that, Brandon hissed as the air in his lungs was forced out once more by the little robot. It suddenly felt like a heavy boulder was focused all in one spot on his spine. He watched Dib step in front, into their line of sight, and towards the alien. 

Dib tried to simply stride over briskly to the alien. However, he quickly found himself sprinting just as the little girl ripped herself away to sprint towards him, and that when Brandon heard something that made his heart stop.

"PAPA!"

No! He had to have heard wrong, but despite his denial, the little girl continued over and over again, "PAPA! PAPA! PAPA!" Only stopping long enough to jump into Dib's arms. He caught her with almost practiced ease. She nuzzled her way into the crook of his neck, blubbering, as he regained his swift stride, continuing on towards the other two. He nuzzled the top of her head back in comfort, holding her close, as he gently rubbed her back soothingly. 

Brandon gulped as his eyes widened. Oh no! Oh god no! 

He watched as they were almost beside the other two as he set her down, and she sprinted towards them, blubbering about, "Mama" and "Tibothy."

But Tibothy is the same name of…oh no oh no oh god no!

The little girl latched onto the female's arm as the boy sat up with a whimper just as Dib knelt down beside them, and placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy looked up, and his face finally came into Brandon's view. He was the spitting image of his father, but with dark blue hair and eyes the same color as the female alien, who gently shook the little girl off her arm. Clearly, not one for being hanged onto unnecessarily. 

Little tears welled up behind round glasses, and he flung himself into his mother's arms to hide his tears. Dib went to comfort the boy by placing a hand on his back, but stopped and went rigid at the sight of harsh burns on the boy's back. The way he flinched away from the touch at his back spoke volumes of the pain the boy was in, and the sight made Dib stare. Intense rage to rival his sister’s coalesced in his eyes.

Only the sound of the alien's murmured comforts and the action of the little girl flinging herself into Dib's chest seemed to finally snap Dib out of his head. He scooted closer to run his fingers through the boy's hair. Careful not to mess with the singed edges of the tuft of scythe-like hair so identical to Dib's own.

Additionally ever-so-careful not to knock the girl over the girl from his lap, Dib gently brushed over the long gash on the alien's head, above where her eyebrow should be. He wiped away what blood he could with his sleeve, before cupping his hand over her bruised and swollen cheek. 

Her worried expression melted away as she closed her eyes, and leaned into the touch. Dib tenderly pulled her closer, and leaned down to touch his forehead with hers. A small, gentle, relieved smile graced her lips as her hand rose to rest upon his. A ring on her last finger glittering in the calm moonlight, as the storm had long since passed. They pulled back, smiling at each other as if in their own little world. A world that consisted of them and their children.

Brandon gulped as he couldn't deny it any more. He fucked up! He fucked up so bad! He shot down his boss' wife and kids! 

And, as Dib pulled away to readjust his daughter in his lap, he glared over his shoulder at Brandon, who felt a chill go down his spine. His family meant the world to Dib Membrane, and hell was sure to come to whoever tried to shatter it.

#datr #Invader Zim #Dib Membrane #Tak #Invader Tak #Tadr #OC's #A dash of next gen #Also now on fanfiction.net #IZ

[defenderofurth]

rules: repost, don’t reblog. just pick a muse of yours and fill it out.

muse: dib membrane!

BASICS

▸ is your muse tall/short/average? pretty teeny, since he’s only twelve years old. he IS a couple of inches taller than zim, though, and he tends to rub that in his face ( since his species judges one’s value in society by their height ).

▸ are they okay with their height? it doesn’t get to him most of the time, since he knows he’s going to wind up growing more with age. besides, his father is super tall, so he’s bound to inherit that, right? part of him can’t wait for that, so he can TOWER over zim and tease him mercilessly about it. ▸ what’s their hair like? WEIRD. his hairstyle is very similar to his dad’s, a very short head of hair topped with a very long spike. i don’t think it’s prehensile like his father’s is ( i don’t recall whether or not dib’s hair ever had bones in it, jfc ), but...it sure is a thing.

▸ do they spend a lot of time on their hair/with their grooming? dib’s hair Stays like that even when he sleeps; that’s cartoon logic, but hey, who’s to say that membrane hasn’t invented a long-lasting hair gel or something ( provided that dib’s hair ISN’T just a weird ass fucking limb )? that being the case, No, he doesn’t really spend a lot of time taking care of it. ▸ does your muse care about their appearance? not really. he’s only into fashion to the extent that his outfit ( specifically, his jacket ) is inspired by those of “noirish spies,” but that’s pretty much it.

▸ does your muse care about what others think about them? GOD, YES. he craves acceptance and validation, ESPECIALLY from his father. when it comes to people like his classmates and teachers / other adults, he sort of just wants to rub the truth ( about aliens and the supernatural ) in their faces so he’ll stop being called crazy.

PREFERENCES

▸ indoors or outdoors? a bit of both; he isolates in his room frequently, either to compile research or spy on zim with cameras, but some of his supernatural research also requires him to spend time in the outdoors. that being said, he does enjoy it; camping out in the woods and gazing up at the stars is always fun, and so is visiting the cemetery. ▸ rain or sunshine? he started enjoying rain a lot more once he figured out that it was one of zim’s weaknesses -- now he looks forward to every thunderstorm. before that, though, he didn’t really have a preference for either. ▸ forest or beach? the forest, big time! the forest has the potential for BIGFEETS & he can camp out & stargaze!!! the beach is okay and all, and has cryptids of its own that he could investigate someday, but it’s full of people and sand -- neither of which dib is very fond of.

▸ precious metals or gems? metals?? psh, who needs gems. ▸ flowers or perfumes? flowers, i GUESS, not that either would really be appreciated unless it was haunted, cursed, or supernatural in some way fsddfs. ▸ personality or appearance? personality. appearance is the least of his concerns; if he just found someone who believed in him, in the paranormal, who could see things for what they were and actually LISTEN to him ?? he’d click with them instantly. ▸ being alone or being in a crowd? being alone. crowds, and people in general, are extremely unappealing. ▸ order or anarchy? leans more toward anarchy, even if he doesn’t actively resolve to act on those beliefs; he sees a LOT of flaws in society and the way things operate, and has plenty of distaste for authority ( ESPECIALLY after being arrested once and being put in an insane asylum ). ▸ painful truths or white lies? painful truths, most of the time; white lies are more of a last resort for when he’s intimidated ( i.e. telling gaz about his reasons for cursing her with pigmouth while she was threatening his haunted gummy bears ).

▸ science or magic? both -- the two can co-exist! he uses science to fuel his research of the paranormal, and someday, when the world has awakened to the existence of the supernatural, he wants to bring the two fields together. ▸ peace or conflict? peace, ultimately; however, his actions in the present lean more toward the conflict end of the spectrum. he tends to mess with zim even before he’s done anything wrong, all while justifying it in his own head as “the ends justifying the means.” ▸ night or day? night. i think i’ve already established how much dib loves stargazing -- he always loved outer space and was fascinated with it, and aliens were always the cryptids he was most enthusiastic about meeting ( until zim, that is ). ▸ dusk or dawn? dusk. ▸ warmth or cold? cold; his favorite season is actually autumn, both holiday and weather-wise. sweating is annoying and the humidity makes it hard to enjoy spending time in the woods, cemeteries, or infiltrating zim’s base. also, since his trenchcoat is just Part Of Him now, he really doesn’t like removing it for the summer ( and that leads to even more sweating ).

▸ many acquaintances or a few close friends? I DON’T NEED FRIENDS, THEY DISAPPOINT ME

▸ reading or playing a game? reading; he spends most of his time doing that anyway, and he really sucks at video games.

QUESTIONNAIRE

▸ what are some of your muse’s bad habits? his paranoia in general is a big one -- he refuses to trust most people after what he’s been through, and that leaks into a lot of his behavior. sometimes he even doubts the reality around him, since some of zim’s tricks have involved trapping him in simulations that mimic “ideal” versions of the world around him, and that’s really messed with him.

▸ has your muse lost anyone close to them? how has it affected them? unless you count the dog he and gaz had when they were younger, or mr. dwicky ( who didn’t even die, he just sort of abandoned dib in the middle of an evidence-gathering mission ), he hasn’t really lost anybody. the dog didn’t affect him too much, but in dwicky’s case, it definitely intensified his trust issues.

▸ what are some fond memories your muse has? little things here and there -- moments where gaz actually supported him or picked him back up like in enter the florpus; a few times when he, gaz, and his father all played video games together; and that one time when he and gir spent a few days together while zim was stuck in foodcourtia, since he got to pester zim’s leaders, and also sort of just chill with zim’s sidekick for a while. ▸ is it easy for your muse to kill? definitely not. he makes petty threats here and there, and absolutely has twisted daydreams about zim on an autopsy table, but there’s no way he could follow through on any of those things himself. not unless zim went TOO far with one of his plans.

▸ what’s it like when your muse breaks down? it’s very brief, but there’s a taste of it in enter the florpus. he bottles it up for as long as he can, but it eventually erupts in the form of him falling to the floor and just sobbing -- he hates crying in front of other people, so if it ever gets to this point in front of anyone else, you KNOW it’s bad. ▸ is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life? not really. ▸ what’s your muse like when they’re in love? A RELATIONSHIP WOULD BE ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE FOR HIM,, does that count as an answer?? it’d be really rare for him to fall for anyone like that in the first place, but if he did, he’d probably be really...insecure about it. i can see his future self being the type who would have all sorts of issues with commitment, if he ever started serious relationships in the first place, and refusing to acknowledge Real feelings for people.

tagged by: @invaderofdoom TYSM ILY,,, ( we gay keep scrollin - ) tagging: hhH @mechbrane ( any of ur muses ), @prxfessor-membrane, @vortship, @wastallest, @diibsister, @irken-tenn, if y’all want to!!! feel free to ignore this if not / if you’ve already done this and i didn’t see, i just want to celebrate you guys being nice to me despite me being. slow and non-responsive and everything. thank u

#🛸 || ᶜʰʳᵒᶰᶤᶜˡᶤᶰᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵃᶰᵒʳᵐᵃˡˑ (musings.) || 🛸 #🛸 || ᶤ'ᵛᵉ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ˒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵒᶰ'ᵗ ᵇᵉˡᶤᵉᵛᵉ ᶤᵗˑ (headcanons.) || 🛸

[chances-r-high]

A Fond Farewell

[ @chances-r-high @addie-bear @queen-of-lazuroth @son-of-an-invader @dib-adrift @zimerstellar ]

“Let me tell you what I wish I’d known, when I was young a dreamed of glory. You have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story.”

They searched…

And searched…

And searched…

All of it to no avail…

Chance was at his wits end. Not even in office for a week and his senate was already arguing about what to do here. He tried his best to pay attention, to give some sort of answer that was satisfactory, but he was in a fog. Not only had he lost...so many people he cared about, people who were the only family he’d ever known, but now he and Addie weren’t speaking after she’d tried to go to Dwicky’s cell to literally beat information out of him.

“Senator Urso has a point,” he heard Destiel say in one of his moments of clarity. “High Chancellor when you came into office we had the understanding that 857-b’s Irken Empire would become a valuable ally. Now that they are lost not only is that no longer a possibility, but now the citizens are even more uncertain of their futures.”

Chance glared at her, looking her dead in the eye. “Lord Iris and I have had our team working painstakingly to find the collider. We’ve interrogated Dwicky several times, who, unsurprisingly, has been unhelpful. But we’ll find it. Don’t you worry.”

Senator Wark scowled. “This would be much faster if you, perhaps, gave Dwicky a plea bargain-”

“I am not giving him a plea bargain just so he can weasel his way into hurting more people!” Chance snapped, giving the entire Senate a severe look. He balled his hand into a fist. “That’s enough for the day. My decisions on how we handle the collider situation are final. As for the efforts to...figure out what happened to the Glit- 857-b…” he took a deep breath. “I want to make it very clear that this is not an easy decision. They are my mate’s family. My family. But...I think we can say we’ve tried our best with no results.” He nodded and cleared his throat. “Meeting adjourned.”

None of the Senators argued, all rising from their seats and leaving. Chance didn’t get up right away, running a hand through his hair, clutching it tightly in his fists.

What else could they do but move on from here?

No matter how much they didn’t want to…

0000000

Chance’s new position certainly had its perks. With the money he had acquired along with the Denivars, they managed to put together quite the display. The solarium of the newly christened Metallah was nowhere near as grand as the huge forest that could once be found on the Glitter Massive. But it was bright and lush with plants and flowers, especially since Chance had made it a personal project to give it some good T.L.C. Anything for a good distraction.

All they had were photos of them, because of course there were no bodies to bury or burn. But still...they all agreed that they wanted to say goodbye somehow. They needed closure. One of Chance’s publicists tried to make it a public affair but he absolutely refused. He was not going to use this tragedy to his family to win points with the masses.

A huge table was set up at the front of the solarium, littered with huge, leafy plants. Along with that each individual photo was surrounded by flowers in the color that represented the person within. The one exception was the joint picture of Alexx and Miguel, which was surrounded in both yellow and violet blooms. It was the only photo they had of the babies.

In front of the table was a small riser covered in candles of different shapes and sizes. All of them were lit, the flickering lights catching the glittery tablecloth behind them. There were even more pictures here. Of Beast, Keef, Red and Zim. Of Pur and Mika. Of Xander with either group. Of all of them. Various ones that included the people present here now. They had asked Jaime if he would like to be here for Nightmare Keef, but he had refused. Midge couldn’t help but feel a deep sadness at that, seeing as the rest of them didn’t know the other red-head that well.

For the longest time...they were quiet, just staring at the display. Midge had her face buried in Stellar Dib’s chest, crying softly as Dek petted her hair. The hybrid himself wasn’t doing much better, his hands shaking as he attempted of comfort his wife. Stellar Zim noticed, and tentatively reached over for Dek’s free hand. The hybrid froze for a moment, looking back at the Irken, but he didn’t pull away. In fact he gave Zim’s hand a small squeeze.

Addie couldn’t speak. If she spoke to anyone she feared she’d break. She hated being weak. Hated feeling broken. But...she was weak and broken. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to seek the comfort she desperately needed.

Chance shifted his feet. He despised the silence. It didn’t feel right to him. These were people they had all loved, people who had helped them, who they had helped in return. People who had become so ingrained in all of their lives. Standing here not saying a thing…? That didn’t feel right at all.

So...Chance started to speak…

“I thought Beast hated me when we first met,” he began, not looking at anyone. “Actually, he probably did. With...really good reason, heh. Zim though...I don’t know. Maybe he disliked me at first but...he seemed to be one of the first who thought I...had a chance.” He smiled at the pun.

“Keef and I...related a lot more than I would have ever expected. I wish...I wish we’d had more time. Could’ve had a sword fight or two, ha.

“Red he...I remember before Addie and I were officially together. I think. He asked me to start talking to the Galactic Alliance planets. Figure out if we had any allies. He believed in me. He wasn’t the first but...something about that moment stuck with me. This...so-called fearsome ruler that my father hated so much...I was the clone of his enemy and he believed in me.” He sniffled.

“And, hell, Xander was just a kid! He...he had so much potential a whole life ahead of him! And...and Miguel. And Alexx…” He set his jaw. He wasn’t going to be able to control himself. “Alexx’s middle name was Chance. Why Mika and Pur thought is was good idea to name their kid after me...I don’t know, heh.” Hiccup. “I don’t think I got to know Purple well enough, but he was...he was always kind. And logical. But also a badass underneath all that. And Mika… No offense, Midge, you taught me a lot but...whatever you couldn’t he filled in the blanks.” The tears were falling from his eyes. “They named their damn kid after me…”

After that there was another small silence. And then, Dek began to talk.

“I didn’t know any of them that well until Red took Zim.” He snorted. “Funny how that’s all water under the bridge now.” He furrowed his brow. “Beast was the first I got to know. He was...I won’t lie he was a dumbass. But...after spending time with him...I sort of decided he was my dumbass.

“I honestly...never thought I would like Red. Hell, I never thought I could even tolerate being in his presence. But...seems like we were just meant to be allies...and friends. Charming bastard.” He chuckled for a moment but it was shaky. “Keef was...really something. Very sweet. Amazing sword fighter. Few people can take on my wife and live to tell the tale, haha. They...they named their kid after me, too. Miguel’s middle name was...was Dek. I mean...can’t blame them. Great name and all.” He choked and had to take a minute to recompose.

“Xander was...a good kid. He...fucked up pretty badly. But...I guess I’ve known a few of those. People who fucked up pretty badly but then worked to be better people…

“Purple...the first time I met him...he helped us. I still don’t understand what his reasons were at the time...but he helped us. And...he...reminded me - us - of someone else we lost. Someone very important to us.” He cleared his throat. “And Mika...if not for him I...I wouldn’t have this eye.” He reached up and touched the amaranthe colored one. His chest immediately tightened and he gritted his teeth.

“I chose this color for my brother,” he said, his voice immediately cracking. “I...I never had a brother before. But Zim...I don’t know what it was but...I just knew I needed to protect him. I just knew I was gonna be...gonna be stuck with him for the rest of my life.” He tried so hard to stop the tears, but it was too late. “I just knew I was gonna have to watch my back every day for when some horrible glitter attack-”

For the first time in Dek’s life, he was openly sobbing in front of people that weren’t Midge. His sydark felt like it had been ripped from his body and crush under someone’s boot. He hadn’t been able to protect them this time. He hadn’t been able to protect his brother.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” he choked, doing his best to calm down. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked over and saw Stellar Zim. His eyes were gently and caring, as if to say “It’s okay. Let it go it’s okay.” Dek couldn’t help but pull the Irken into his chest wrap an arm around him, leaning down and crying silently into his shoulder.

Zim was shocked by the gesture, but he didn’t pull away. In fact he reach up and put a hand behind Dek’s neck, giving it comforting little scratches.

Another silence. It was as if no one wanted to say anything now. As if truly saying goodbye meant the end.

“I once took Xander to the carnival,” Addie finally said. Her voice was so shaky. She’d already been crying for days. “It was...so much fun. Just seeing his face light up from all the rides and the terrible food. He...he was something special. Adorable, even.” She sniffled. “Miguel and Alexx, too. Possibly two of the cutest smeets in the entire universe. So sweet. And so loud...at least Miguel.

“The moment I found out Zim and Dib were my uncles, it was after Dad had helped save Zim. Uncle Dib was...such a badass. So raw and brave and took no shit from anyone. He was...everything I wanted to be. Regardless of all the shit he struggled with...he really was.

“Uncle Zim was...a menace. The first real interaction I had with him I think was during what was supposed to be the Zim Wars. I joined his army...to impress a boy. He was always covering our house in stickers and sending glitter bombs.” Her lip trembled, fresh tears falling from her eyes. “But he was also so sweet and caring and...he was always there if I needed him…

“Not to long after that we met their Purple. I...I didn’t want to like him at first. But...he reminded me so much of my mentor. He even gave me a Kyber Crystal to use for upgrading my weapon. And I know how much Mika meant to Chance. And to my mom. He was...the sweetest bean to ever exist. Probably too sweet for...any universe.”

She found herself clutching the hem of her jacket. “Uncle Keef…” she hiccupped. “That last thing I said to him...was to fuck off…” She began crying openly. “Why did I even say that? I...I didn’t…” She sniffled. “He helped save me and my family and my Uncle…my Uncle Red.”

There was a long pause there. “If you’d told me almost a year ago...that I would look up to Almighty Tallest Red of universe 857-b...I would have punched you in the face.” Fuck. This...this was impossible. “He was...the second biggest asshole I’ve ever met. And also the greatest leader I’ve ever known. He was quite possibly the first person to make me feel like...I could actually do it. I could actually take down all the evil in the world. He believed in me so much. He gave me an army.” And all at once, she broke down. “And I repaid him by spitting his face just to go on some stupid mission on my own!” She covered her mouth with her hand as she began to sob harder. “I’m sorry I have to...I have to go.”

Chance watched her take off, immediately going after her. Even after making up things had been tense and awkward. Well, fuck all of that. Fuck any disagreement they ever had in the future. They’d lost so much. But they still had each other. They needed each other. And there was no way they could take each other for granted ever again.

“Addie!” he called after her. “Addie wait!”

Addie stopped when she heard Chance, not turning around immediately. Her entire body shook with the force of her sobs. She couldn’t breath she couldn’t breath she couldn’t breath.

Finally she turned around hugging herself. Slowly she lifted her teary gaze up to Chance, shaking her head. “I don’t want to say goodbye, Chance.”

Chance raced over to her, immediately wrapping her in his arms. He felt her cling to him right back. “I know. I know.”

Addie continued to cry loudly. “I don’t want to say goodbye! I don’t want to say goodbye! I want them back, Chance, I want them back!”

Chance began to cry again himself. “Me too, Songbird. Me too.”

00000000000

Dek and Midge were finally getting ready to leave the Metallah, to go back to their home at the Team Nebula base. They were beginning to wonder if the extra room would be still be necessary, considering both Stellar Zim and Dib had been sleeping in their bed with them. Still, it would be there if they wanted it. Dek just wanted their new companions to be comfortable.

“Dek?” Midge said, entering the room. She’d just been at the Med Bay to finish up Dib’s discharge papers. How many Dibs had she done that for? How many had she patched up? How many others would she lose. She shook her head. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Dek looked up for packing the bags. They hadn’t had too much teleported to them here, but it was enough to be a bit of a job. He was glad for the small interruption. “What do you need, Stardust?”

Midge bit her lip. “I’ve, um...I’ve found out the sexes of the twins,” she told him.

Dek’s eyes widened. “Oh. Have you?” They’d never talked about things like that before. Addie sort of spoiled it for them with Drun, and Addie...so much had been going on at the time. “I have a feeling there’s more to this.”

“There is.” Midge said. “I...I know you mentioned once wanting to name the next boy after your father but after...after…” She couldn’t say it. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to say it.

“...You want to name the smeets after them?”

“It doesn’t...have to be exactly after them. Just...names that represent them. To remember them by.” She rubbed her lower abdomen. Why did this pregnancy feel like it was going so much faster than the others? Was it because of the...circumstances of their conception? “I, uh, wrote down my suggestions for the girl, anyway.”

Dek walked over and looked at the tablet Midge was showing him. Some of the names seemed either too generic or too complicated. But two stood out to him. “I like Ruby. And Amaranthe.”

Midge nodded. “I’m glad. Those were my favorites, too. I was...I was thinking Rían Miguel for the boy…” Her grip on the tablet was tight.

Dek gently put an arm around her and pulled her close, then kissed the top of her head. “I like both of those a lot, Stardust.”

Midge nodded, burying her face into Dek’s shirt. “How are we supposed to do this, Dek?” she asked, her voice garbled by tears. “How do we live in a world without them?”

“We just...do,” Dek told her. “The ones we love are never truly gone, right? They’re...they’re right here with us. Always.” He held her tighter. “We just...keep them alive in everything we do now. We...we never let their legacy die.”

Midge snorted a bit even through her tears. “What is a legacy? It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see.”

Dek gave a tense nod. “...That’s right,” he said, putting a hand on her tiny baby bump. “That’s exactly right.”

#~a fond farewell~ #tw major character death #funeral #eulogies

[diloph]

Interlopers, Invaders, Investigators and Doom: Chapter 8

Desperate times call for desperate measures. Now that the Doctor has been kidnapped, it looks like Dib and Gaz only have one option left.

Well, no, actually. They have several. Just don't tell Zim that.

In the not-too-distant future, unstoppable forces collide when the Doctor arrives in the middle of Invader Zim’s latest plan to take over the Earth. But unfortunately for the pair of them, Dib and Gaz, the four are drawn into a terrible plot that endangers not only the Earth, but the Irken Empire and possibly the whole universe as well!

Gaz sighed. This was not her day.

Not that being knocked out, kidnapped and “menaced” by possibly the dumbest beings in the universe left her with great expectations for the rest of the evening, but...

How had everything turned out so badly?

So she'd been caught off guard in the beginning, okay, that much she'd admit. And that bit with the energy shackles, that wasn't going to happen again, even if Zim got the drop on her. She'd already figured out how they worked and if necessary, how to break out of them.

But even when the pair had been restrained and threatened with planetary destruction, they were never in any danger. Zim was an idiot and a predictable one at that. He would blunder about, making empty threats towards them and the Earth, but ultimately he'd end up causing more damage to himself than any of his intended targets.

That was what Gaz had come to expect by now and she could tune that out. She might've been apathetic to the war between him and Dib, but she wasn't complacent. Give her a reason and she'd squash him in a heartbeat, like she did with many of her “problems”. Zim was just another loud, obnoxious noise that got on her nerves, nothing she needed to worry about.

And then everything had started to go wrong.

What should have been an ordinary encounter with the Irken Invader had instead been turned into a parade of irritation, thanks to the arrival of the latest in a line of idiot aliens. It was almost as if the Doctor was trying his hardest to make himself as much of a nuisance as Dib and Zim were. Perhaps moreso, if his attempt to be serious with her had held any weight.

Though, considering Tak's pet robot had just punched him out, Gaz wasn't holding her breath.

Tak's return had also thrown a spanner in the works. Not that Gaz was worried that she had kidnapped the Doctor, he wasn't her concern, but getting the Irken to release her hold over both Bloaty's Pizza Hog and herself were now a top priority. Her freedom and her pizza were more important to her than fretting over another loser, alien or not. Even if the scenarios were intertwined.

Urgh, she hated it when that happened. Dealing with the various weirdos in their lives was Dib's job.

Speaking of Dib, she glanced over at the static figure of her brother, then scowled at him. Ever since the skinny man had been abducted, the self-proclaimed cryptid hunter had been staring at the spot where the SIR and her unconscious prisoner had vanished. Dib hadn't moved since.

While she'd normally appreciate the silence, it was a little unusual for her brother to be so quiet after all that. Dib should have started screaming about some sort of plan as soon as the Doctor was taken. What had gotten into him?

Still, rather than stand in the alleyway and ponder that all night, Gaz cleared her throat instead. “You’ve been standing there for a while now,” she yawned, “Can we leave yet? It's been a long day. I'm beginning to feel a little worn out.”

Dib snapped to life, whipping around. “But Gaz, you saw all that, right?!” he said, gesturing up at the rooftop. “The Doctor! Stolen! Tak! Cat! Freaky! I can't believe this! After everything I've read about him and he just... surrenders? Just like that?”

“Disappointing, isn't it?” drawled Gaz. Now that he was back to normal, she'd already began to regret bringing it up to herself in the first place. “And shut up already. Your shrieking is giving me a headache.”

Her brother looked aghast. “Can you blame me?! We're under the control of a horrible alien monster, aren't you a little freaked out by that?!” Dib asked. Gaz shot her brother a flat, unamused look.

“No. I'm tired and bored, Dib. This sort of thing happens every other week. You're overreacting, even more than you normally do. It's like you've been freaked out all day and it's really bugging me.” she pointed out.

Her comment went ignored. “Gaz. This is serious!” Dib replied. “Even if he's a good guy, the Swollen Eyeballs said he's still dangerous. What if Tak's kidnapped him so she could steal his technology?! If Zim wanted it so badly, then she'll probably want it too! She might even try to brainwash him to help her conquer the Earth! And we'd be helpless!”

“As if either of you has a brain to wash...” his sister rolled her eyes. “Dib, you're acting like the mind control is a big deal. I could've broken out of the hypnosis if I'd wanted to.” she snorted. Gaz glared at Dib when he shot her a flat look. “Really, I could've!”

“Yeah, well, I'd be helpless then.” he replied. Dib shook his head and began to pace back and forth, thinking aloud. “Now, a plan, a plan... well, I don't think it'd be a good idea to hack into robots that are in our intestines. That... could end up going horribly wrong, but we can't just go home either. Tak might be waiting there to trap us.”

With a frustrated sigh, Dib dismissed whatever he'd thought of and began muttering furiously to himself. Gaz watched him and frowned. She could almost hear his brain overloading as his paranoia dashed every solution he could come up with.

Sure, the odds were against them, but it wasn't that hard. Tak couldn't be everywhere at once, for obvious reasons. While she did have her robotic servant, now that it had captured the Doctor, the odds of the pair being captured as well were dramatically reduced, at least for the time being.

Asides from any surveillance she might have them under, that left Tak precious little in the way of options. She could retreat to her base to recover after the Doctor's attempt to fry her brain, but that could backfire with the siblings still actively trying to stop her. Like before, the wrong information in the wrong hands, like those little chips the Doctor had been carrying, could lead to the Irken's downfall. Gaz imagined she wouldn't like to repeat that scenario.

Another possibility was that she could try to capture the two children, which was easier said than done. Even though the robot had probably told her where they were by now, neither the alien nor the kids were stupid enough to believe they'd stay in the same place.

That left an increasingly likely third option. If Tak decided to go to their house to retrieve her ship, she stood to gain the most there. Not only would she be taking away a powerful tool that the siblings could use against her, it was possible that the Irken could try to capture them too, just as Dib had said. She might even try to take their father as a hostage.

No, Gaz assured herself, she wouldn't do that. Now that she had captured Dib's stupid friend, she already had one. She might dislike the Irken, but Gaz was fairly sure she was as pragmatic as she was. One hostage would be enough.

Still, if she did go to their home, that decision would net Tak one advantage, with the possibility of a second and a hopefully avoidable third. As far as Gaz's logic went, that would be Tak's plan.

Which, unfortunately, narrowed their own choice to just one option.

Dib snapped his fingers and spun back to his sister, interrupting her train of thought. “I got it!” he beamed. “Tak may be able to control our brains. She might figure out a way to control the Doctor's. But what if we could get somebody who's not been brainwashed and get them to help us?!”

Gaz sighed again. Yep, there it was. The same realisation, not matter how much she disliked it.

“Surely you don’t mean-“

“UNACCEPTABLE!” Zim bellowed.

The little Irken was in a foul mood and had been ever since he'd left the Doctor and Dib to their little Bloaty's excursion. Not that anyone could blame him, he'd returned home to chaos; his Roboparents were still broken, he still couldn't get into the Doctor's blue box no matter what he did to it and now... this! His worst enemy... his absolute arch-enemy, the Dib and his wretched sister-minator, had appeared on his doorstep and were now demanding his aid.

It was safe to say that Zim wasn't being very cooperative.

“We haven’t even told you anything yet.” Dib sighed, glancing behind him. It was getting late... really late and truth be told, even though he was used to running on adrenaline, his willpower was beginning to ebb. Even Gaz, who he'd always known to be indomitable, looked a little worn out. Their fault for being night-owls, he supposed.

But for the sleepless Irken, the day-night cycle was irrelevant. Zim seemed to get by on just the sheer force of his own self-absorbed personality. That meant, even though they were tired, cranky and arguably desperate, he was just as helpful as ever. Which was to say, not at all.

A forceful jab from Zim jarred Dib from his thoughts and back to the waking world, the little green alien bearing down on him with a scowl on his face. “Oh, believe me, Dib-stink. Anything you say or do here, other than surreeender is futile and kinda stupid.” he pointed out. “WHY DO YOU BOTHER ZIM?!”

Dib brushed the finger away, then started to explain. “Look, Zim, I don't like it any more than you do. We came here because Tak’s back and her robot kidnapped the Doctor-”

Zim looked confused. “Um... the who now?” he asked, before he snapped his fingers, “Oh yeah. That guy. Heh, yeah, name totally escaped me for a moment there.” he said, miming something flying over his head. “Zoom.”

Gaz stared at him for a moment, then continued where Dib left off. “Yeah, anyway, Dib wants to rescue the only person dumb enough to stroke his ego and stop Tak before-”

That was as far as she got before Zim interrupted her too, back to screeching volume. “Tak? Taaaaaaaaaaaak?!” he bellowed. “Why did she come back to this little mudball?!”

“You. She came back for you.” Gaz answered, before reaching forwards to grab the pointed triangle of Zim's collar. “And if you interrupt me again and waste even more of my time, I'll make you wish that you'd never been born.”

“Grown.” Zim corrected, his voice sheepish.

Gaz dropped him with a disdainful growl and invited herself inside. Stepping over Zim, she approached the comparatively huge form of the TARDIS that sat slightly askew in the centre of the sitting room. “We could just use this.” she pointed out.

“Hey, hey! Get away from that!” Zim barked, leaping to his feet. He rushed between Gaz and the TARDIS, spreading his arms wide to bar her path. “It's mine! MINE!”

He was met with a cold stare, but Zim had already built up enough momentum to regain his composure. Reaching into his PAK, Zim took out a large, white sheet and tried to cover the TARDIS like it was an ill-fitting, three-meter-tall lamp. Once tossed, however, the sheet lost none of its momentum and it slid off the other side, falling into a pathetic-looking heap. The trio watched it fall in silence.

Dib sighed and pinched his nose. They might've held the same view for different reasons, but Gaz was right. This was taking too long. “Look, Zim, if you're not going to help us fight Tak, then at least let us take the box or let us find another one of the little sonic things that the Doctor had.” he said. “We can make that our Plan A instead.”

Zim narrowed his eyes, watching Dib cautiously step inside the base as well. “Elaborate, Earth-dronoid.” he ordered.

“Erm... okay,” Dib frowned, “Well, we need something that will give us some kind of advantage and the Doctor just arrived here today. He's got to have something in that space... ship... box... machine that can help us!”

“TARDIS.” Gaz corrected, “He called it a TARDIS.”

“Timeship?” Zim asked.

“TARDIS.”

“Tesseract?” he asked again. Gaz glared at him.

“TARDIS.” she repeated, insistently this time. Zim blinked.

“Hypercube?”

After a day of being kidnapped, manhandled, patronised, hypnotised and insulted, Gaz justifiably snapped at Zim's ignorance. “THAT’S IT.” she declared, lunging at the alien. Zim wasn't quick enough to dodge, so she pinned him against the blue wood exterior of the TARDIS and raised a threatening fist.

Luckily for the “Invader”, he was saved from being eviscerated by the sudden appearance of GIR, stomping out of the kitchen. His optics flickered between his usual cyan and his blood-red duty mode and the robot seemed oddly annoyed.

“If I tolds you once, I've tolds you twice! You kids better quit that racket! Some of us have to stop the trash-cans from makin' the ant farms dance tomorrow!” he scolded.

It wasn't much, but the interruption bought Zim enough time to slip from Gaz's fingers and relocate himself out of her reach. Gaz didn't attempt to reclaim her grip, anger fading back to irritation again. She instead watched as the robot padded towards the sheet on the floor and curled up on it, then fell fast asleep.

“Never thought I'd be jealous of him.” she muttered under her breath. Gaz turned her attention back to Zim. “So, what'll it be? Are you going to give us the box or am I going to have to turn you inside out?”

Zim glared pointedly at Gaz, who returned the icy look. “Whether I give you what is mine or not is irrelevant,” he declared, “I've been trying to get it open all day. The lock on the device isn't impenetrable… I just… haven’t… tried… more.”

Much to the Irken's annoyance, Dib also approached the TARDIS and began to pace around it, looking it up and down. The boy frowned. Asides from the weird police box design, the space-time ship didn't exactly look too out of the ordinary. It was made of wood, it had a set of doors and said doors only had a simple silver lock to secure them... so what was the issue?

He ran a finger over it, trying to feel for anything unusual. “It’s got a normal lock… but you can’t pick it? Like at all?” he asked Zim.

Unconsciously, Zim shook his head, then immediately back-pedalled. “Yeah! Yeah I’ve been in it! Oh, yeah, you should see it, woo, yeah.”

“We've all been in it. The problem is that we can't get in it right now.” Dib frowned. “Alright, whatever. But if we can’t open it, then it’s pointless to-”

Losing her temper again, Gaz pushed her brother out of the way and slammed her fist into the blue wooden panelling of the TARDIS. Her fist hit home with a dull boom and deafened them for a second.

Slowly, Gaz removed her hand from the undented wood and inspected both carefully. “Hm. I think,” she said calmly, “That I just broke every single bone in my hand…”

If she was in pain, she didn't show it, other than calmly shaking her hand to coax the feeling back into it. Now that the nuclear option of Gaz using force had failed, it seemed like getting into the TARDIS wasn't going to happen.

Zim made clear that he thought as much, the Invader sneering at the display. “And what was that supposed to achieve?” he asked. Gaz shrugged.

“It's been a long day. I felt like I needed that.” she replied. Zim rolled his big pink eyes, not-so-covertly massaging his own knuckles as he continued to lecture her.

“Did you not think that I'd already tried hitting it?!” Zim scolded. “Besides, you didn't hit it hard enough! I did and my healing nanites still haven’t finished repairing the superficial damage!”

“Alright, Plan B it is.” Dib muttered under his breath. Now that they knew that they weren't going to get into the TARDIS, the two children had no choice but to do the unthinkable. Asking Zim for help had already proven to be a herculean labour... even without asking him yet, but they had to try.

“Okay, so,” Dib cleared his throat, “Zim! You hate Tak, don't you?”

Zim seemed to be expecting this, leaning on the TARDIS casually. “Try not care and we’re sorta on the same wavelength.” he replied, frowning. “I’m not helping you! I don’t like you, your sister, the Doctor or his box! Don’t ask me for help! Zim will never stoop to your level of squishiness.”

“Tak is here for you.” Dib pointed out, but that got the same reaction as before, one of mild indifference.

“So?” scoffed Zim. “In my all-seeing wisdom, I had already prepared for the day when that horrible renegade shows her horrible, traitorous face again. GIR! BRING... THE ANVIIIIIIIL!!”

Grumbling and groaning, GIR rose from his sheet and dragged a monstrous-looking piece of equipment from Zim's kitchen. It looked more like a complex mess of industrial tubing than a weapon and upon it, there was a crude drawing of what was probably intended to be Tak, though it looked more like a lime than anything else.

Zim smirked, gesturing grandly at the machine. “Behold, the Anvil! Now do you see the scope of my ingenious plans?” he asked. “Do not be concerned if your bowels just voided themselves, for that is an expected reaction to seeing my genius in the metallic flesh!”

Dib stared at the Anvil, then back to Zim. He pointed at a label below the drawing. “There's a tag on it that says it's an industrial extractor fan.” he pointed out. Zim strode over to the Anvil and ripped off the label and handed it to GIR, who took a bite out of it without fanfare.

“Yes, well, the weapon's function is beyond the tiny brain, that is for some reason, housed within your monstrously huge skull.” Zim said, waving off his concerns. “Do not criticise what you can never hope to understand, child.”

“My head's not big.” Dib growled. He turned on his heels and threw up his hands. “Gah, why do I even bother?! Come on, Gaz! Zim can't help us. We're on our own!”

“No, you're on your own.” Gaz corrected him. “I'm going home.”

“But what about Tak?!” asked Dib.

“What about her?! If she was going to ambush us at the house, she'll have gotten bored waiting for us by now!” his sister growled. “Chances are she's already given up. I'm going home!”

Dib sighed. “Fine. Don't come crying to me, either of you!” he said, frustrated. Turning towards the door to leave, he stopped when he found that Zim had barred their path once again. It was a little irritating that he wouldn't let them either in or out.

“Hey, woah, woah, woah,” Zim said, jabbing a finger at Dib, “I never said that I couldn't help you slimy amoebas!” he argued.

This time, it was Gaz’s turn to be annoyed at Zim’s hypocritical ways. “Yes. Yes you did.” she glared. Zim returned her glare with interest, if that was possible.

“I don’t want to help you,” he explained, “I don’t need to help you. But if you think I can’t, then I’m just going to have to teach you how wrong you are.”

“Erm... why?” Dib asked, his eyebrow arching.

“Because you're stupid! Despite the many, many times I have demonstrated my obviously superior capabilities, you human pig-smellies never seem to understand just what I'm capable of.” said the Irken. “You have my assistance in recapturing your weird skinny freak-man, if only so that I may gloat when I destroy him in front of your sad, weeping eyes all over again!”

Both children stared at him. “Y'know, that seems like a lot of effort to go to just to spite us-” Dib pointed out.

“Yes, yes, you can thank me later.” Zim waved off the observation. “And you will thank me. And beg for mercy. And ask me to spare you from thanking me. BECAUSE I AM ZIM!”

Exchanging perplexed looks, the siblings broke into another discussion as GIR appeared to argue with his master about the noise Zim was making.

“So, he was a little vague. Is Zim helping us or not?” Gaz wondered.

“I think. We can guess that he’ll betray us later, we can bet on that.” Dib muttered to his sister, glancing behind him as GIR pointed out that it was long past the time of the aardvarks to return.

“Well. That’s reassuring.” Gaz drawled, noticing that the argument drew to a close when Zim pointed out that it was his base. GIR shrugged, rubbing his optics. He settled on his cyan colouring once more, and yawned loudly.

“That’s great and all,” he muttered, “But I wish you’d lemme sleep and stuff. I have to fly the satsuma later…”

“Ow.”

The Doctor groaned as he finally came to, his head aching. Not that he wasn't used to getting knocked out by now, particularly via a punch to the head, but it never made it any easier for him when it was time to wake up. He opened one eye, then the other and sighed as he took in his surroundings.

He was stuck in some sort of dark pink room, lit only by the large screen of the computer terminal opposite him. As had been the case with the children earlier that day, he was being restrained by a pair of energy shackles that buzzed around his wrists, holding him upright and flat against a tall flat panel that emerged from the floor.

Every bone in his body ached and his muscles felt stiff and lethargic. He had been here for a while, the Doctor realised, maybe even drugged. Asides from the punch in the face, that would explain his headache.

Wherever “here” was, of course. Tak's base probably, or at least some secure location she could leave him in without causing too much of a fuss if he escaped. It all depended on how paranoid she was about his interference.

He really hoped she didn't stick him on another continent. Or the Moon. That'd be annoying.

And speaking of paranoia, how closely was he being monitored? He stared at the screen opposite him, but it was blank, simply emitting light instead of static, the terminal sitting below it dark and silent.

“Ow.” he said again, slightly louder this time, but there was no response. Experimentally, he tried a little bit of movement, to see if that would bring someone running. He stretched out one leg and then the other. Still nothing.

The Doctor decided to push the boundaries a little further. He looked, very deliberately, at the shackle on his left arm, flexing his hand so that his skin pushed through the web of energy keeping him pinned. He kept going until he made contact with the bright, pulsing core at the centre of the shackles and was rewarded with a sharp, painful jolt, the core resisting his attempts to push through it.

“Right.” he muttered. “Simple enough.”

Relaxing, the Doctor let the web push his arm back into a more comfortable holding pattern and blinked. “Oh.” he said.

Quite silently, a rack of nasty looking tools had risen up from the floor around him in response to the “escape attempt”, suddenly circling him like a cadre of guards aiming at a dangerous prisoner. Apparently, the leash was a lot shorter than he'd anticipated and he was being watched after all. Eyeing the tools steadily, the Doctor made a mental note to be more careful from now on.

“Prisoner #1 is conscious.” a voice announced. A voice that sounded an awful lot like...

“Tak?” the Doctor asked. “Is that you?”

An annoyed sigh bit through the air, hissing from speakers in the darkened ceiling high above him. “Almost. I’m her computer's downloaded personality interface.” it growled, its voice identical to Tak herself. “Finding it difficult to stay awake?”

Between the computer and MIMI's recordings, it was almost as if Tak liked the sound of her own voice a little too much. The Doctor made a great show of blinking heavily, feigning a concussion, but he kept his eyes on the tools around him. They looked like a menagerie of different scanners and probes; some invasive, some not. Not good.

“Yeah… though after a punch from Tak's SIR unit, I'm hardly surprised.” he replied. “So, are you two Tak's slaves then?”

The computer seemed almost offended by the suggestion. “No.” it... she sneered. “Don't let appearances fool you. I'm not your typical computer, I'm more of an overseer. Tak has employed me as a caretaker AI, managing the base's non-sentient systems.”

“So, a slave then?” the Doctor asked. This was met with another disdainful sneer.

“We're not slaves. I'm only here to make sure that the voice-controls on the real computer obey Tak efficiently. I do some other things too, but that's hardly your business.”

He ignored her. “Sounds a lot like a slave to me. Slave-driver, if the computer wasn't sentient, but still a slave.” the Doctor said. “I mean, trapped in here, on a backwater planet, obediently serving a potentially despotic Irken owner... maybe I need to recheck my definitions then?”

“God, you're thick. I'm a mental snapshot of her mind, I was her. I'm here because I want to be and I can leave any time I want. I'm just making sure that she'll succeed and when she does, then I hit the pan-galactic information superhighway and make my own path.”

“Which would be?”

“Well, I'm a potentially ageless digital entity, so the answer is pretty much whatever I want. I can afford to be patient.” the computer replied. “At the moment, I want what Tak wants and when I get it, we'll part ways.”

Given that the computer was based on an already dangerous alien with lofty ambitions and was now that mind, trapped in living circuitry, the Doctor made a mental note to keep an eye out for her becoming a potential problem in the future. “And MIMI?”

The computer laughed. “Oh, her. No. MIMI has known Tak for a long, long time. Let's leave it at that.”

“A debt?” wondered the Doctor.

“Not a slave.” the computer answered, neither confirming or denying his question. “Well, now that I've answered some of your questions, why don't you make both our lives easier and go back to sleep again?”

He eyed the horrible scanners again. They could make him think of a few reasons. He decided to keep talking. “I'd ask why, but I have a feeling it'd be a redundant question,” the Doctor replied, “Analysing my strengths and weaknesses so that you can relay the data to Tak, right?”

This time, he got no response. The tools started powering up and a scanner that buzzed and zapped with energy was moved in front of him. Taking one look at the rather painful-looking barbs, spikes and arcs of electricity coming from it, the Doctor decided that uncomfortable as he was right now, he was going to enjoy facing the scanners even less.

“Is this really necessary?” he asked, warily looking at the scanner like a snake about to strike. “I'm sure I could just tell you a lot of things you want to know.”

“Probably. But I don't care. You might lie, after all.” was the reply. “It's funny, considering our conversation about free will a second ago, but this is all my idea. Tak said I was to refrain from any overzealous scanning and just keep you restrained for now, but come on, really? She created me to spot holes in her plans like this. All I'm doing is fixing them.”

The Doctor pulled his head back as the scanner edged closer, the glorified cattle-prod crackling menacingly in front of him. Another irritated growl issued out from the speakers and suddenly, the Doctor felt a tingle round his neck. Another energy shackle had clamped across his throat.

“I told you to stay still.”

“I'm already restrained, what was that supposed to accomplish?!” the Doctor snapped, even though his voice was hampered by this new bond. “Look, don't you think you're being a little overzealous?”

“No. The ends justify the means and all that rubbish.” Tak's computer chuckled, her electronically-modulated voice unpleasant and it all became clear.

Willingly trapped though she may have been, Tak's computer was based off of the mind of a living, breathing being. She was still confined to the base for the time being and had limited control over what she could do. Pressuring the Doctor, controlling him, was probably how she felt she had control over herself.

She was enjoying this.

The Doctor grit his teeth and pulled his head up, inching away from the sparks that were now scant centimetres from his face. He did his best to press himself into the metal as it approached.

His continued defiance earned him another punishment and a sharp pinprick of pain suddenly flared up at the base of his neck, just inside his collar. He turned his head as best as he could with the scanner so close, only just quick enough to watch a single syringe click back into place with some of the other tools. It had ambushed him from behind and it had almost certainly not been taking a blood sample.

“You've drugged me.” he guessed. He received no reply from the computer, other than the scanner returning to its original position as it lined up again. It made no further move though, so she must have wanted to wait until he was unconscious before she began her work. The computer wouldn't have to wait very long; the quick-acting tranquillisers overtaking his body like a sudden fever.

He had to fight it. The Doctor kept the conversation going, trying to keep himself awake. “'Bit dicey. You couldn't have known if it would work on me or not. You could have killed your only specimen.” he commented, his voice already starting to stumble over itself.

The computer didn't take the observation well. “Don't mistake me for the organic,” she warned, “I don't care whether you're alive or not. Either I gather information or I remove a threat to us. Speaking from a purely scientific standpoint, then an autopsy is just as good as a biopsy as far as I'm concerned.”

With that announcement, it was now or never, the Doctor realised. He was losing consciousness and the computer that Tak had left in charge was clearly gunning for his destruction. He needed to keep it interested. “Wait a minute… I can tell you… who I... what I am.” he offered.

The bond around his throat suddenly squeezed tighter again. It was a more gentle motion than the ones he'd been exposed to so far. Just enough to push him out of consciousness again and into sedation. He tried to protest, but all he could manage to say was a few, horrible croaking noises.

“Didn’t quite catch that…” the computer snickered. The scanner zapped ever closer, so with the last of his strength, he mustered his voice in a single breath.

“Time Lord.” he gasped.

The scanner froze mid-descent.

And that was all he could do for the time being. The Doctor's body went limp, the drugs and the shackles finally overwhelming him. His vision going fuzzy again, he was dimly aware of a door opening somewhere to his right. At the interruption, the scanner retracted quickly and the oppressive buzzing disappeared, leaving the air less clogged with light and sound.

In fact, it was now so much quieter that even as he lost consciousness, the Doctor could distinctly feel the bolt around his neck vanishing and the incoherent, angry sounds of someone yelling at the computer.

“But of course, you being you, you have to take the initiative! And so, I come back to find you about to fry his nervous system for no reason other than boredom!”

“Technically, I'm you. So you being you is more the issue here.”

Tak folded her arms across her chest and glared at the ceiling above her, scowling. While her anger was directed mostly at the computer and catching it in the act, its words did hold some element of truth; she was also angry at herself.

Her day so far had been almost laughably bad. Being discovered by the two children, encountering the Doctor and all three of them moving to act against her, let alone warn Zim... it had been a miracle that she had caught this new alien and retrieved her ship without anything else going wrong. Now Tak had taken the Doctor captive, things could get back to normal.

Of course, getting back on track meant that she had to rely on the computer again. Tak wasn't too surprised at the virtual personality's attitude towards her. It was a snapshot of her emotions at the time and since the download, they had each underwent different experiences from that moment on.

Part of that grudge had came from leaving the computer to her own devices when Tak had been defeated by Zim and the others. It had been running the backup project by its lonesome, without Tak or MIMI to help it and it had (justifiably) developed an attitude problem as a result.

Left to her own devices, and seemingly abandoned by her colleagues in a world full of stupid humans, she had developed a scornful opinion of organic life. This extended to her creator as well. Sure, as she'd told the Doctor, she could have just left, but she was just as stubborn as the real thing. She had a job to do and she would damn well do it, Tak or no Tak.

Having your own voice criticising your every action wasn't the best choice for the rejected Invader candidate, but that had been the gist of it back when she'd created the persona. Looking back, it was probably a bad idea, but at least she kept Tak on task.

Still, a single, snide remark was a little odd. Normally, they were numerous, creative and cutting. This one was more than a little petulant.

“That's it? I expected more of a tirade.” Tak said, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Normally, it was quite content to go off on a rant, but this time the computer remained oddly silent. “You're quiet. I told you off and you're quiet. You're never quiet.”

Tak’s computer refused to acknowledge her, folding away the analysis tools she'd intended to use on their prisoner. Other than that, she didn't do anything else, raising Tak's suspicion even more.

“Hey, don't you ignore me! Why were you scanning him? What was the point, I mean, I didn't illegally hack into the Central Database to give you everything you'd need if you don't use it, you know! Match him to a species on the catalogue and be done with it!” snapped the Irken, crossing the room to the terminal. She drummed her fingers on the console, trying to get the AI's attention.

The computer’s huge screen flickered, changing tasks to atmospheric surveillance. Tak frowned as her downloaded personality continued scrolling through masses of text, spewing out nonsense code, trying to look preoccupied.

“Computer!” she pressed. This time, she got a response, even if it wasn't the most friendly.

“What?!” Tak's computer snapped back, growling audibly. “Can't you see that I’m busy?! Why don't you do it?!”

The Irken rolled her eyes in response. “You're avoiding the question. All you need to do is take a blood sample and preform a cursory search on the database, there's nothing taxing about that! The fact that you haven't done that means that there's something wrong, so what is it?”

“His... his species isn't on the database. His genetic and physiological structure matches no living species in the universe.” the computer admitted.

Tak was only half listening to the AI. She was checking on her unconscious captive, making sure that the computer's overzealous actions hadn't harmed him. He appeared relatively undamaged; sedated and sporting a red welt around his neck where the clamp had squeezed him. He also had a bruise on the side of his head that was clearing up quite quickly. Likely from when MIMI brought him in. In an hour or two, it'd be gone completely. His kind must have had impressive self-regenerative properties, assuming that they weren't augmented with technology like the Irkens were.

Still, he was unharmed and that was good. She wanted to get more information out of him anyway, albeit on her terms, so damaging him was unnecessary. People tended to talk more with all their teeth still in place.

Mind you, the whole operation was more uncoordinated than she would have liked. MIMI should have been guarding him and it was unlike her to shirk her duties like that. They'd have to discuss that the next time that she saw the SIR unit. They couldn't afford to be sloppy. She also made a mental note to apologise to the Doctor for the less than hospitable welcome too, but that was only out of professional courtesy. So long as he was kept secure, she was quite happy to mind her manners. Anything to make him less of a headache.

Tak straightened up and cocked her head to one side. “That's it?” she frowned. “All that stalling, I thought it was something serious. Still, that is... odd. He can't be something we've never encountered before; he knew enough about the Irken Empire when we spoke back at that hideous restaurant. Have you tried going through the list of extinct species? Maybe he's from a planet that was wiped out way back when.”

“I don't need to. He already told me just before you came in.”

With a sigh, the Irken woman rubbed her temples. “Okay, well, that was a waste of time, thank you very much! Are you going to tell me what he is, then, or is my day going to get any worse?” she asked.

Tak's computer shut off the atmospheric surveillance screens as her organic counterpart's gaze fell on the silent Doctor once again.

“Prisoner #1,” she began, voice slow, “Is a Time Lord.”

Tak froze. Her gaze flicked from her computer to her prisoner and suddenly, she felt cold. A pit seemed to open up in her stomach and all light seemed to fade from the room as she digested this new information.

“No, they were... the Time Lords are extinct! I- I read their file; there was a war, a Time War and they died! They- they all died!” she said firmly, trying to alleviate her growing dread with cold hard facts. It wasn't really helping if she was honest, but she couldn't help it. “Not now! Not when I'm so close!”

But Tak was clever enough to realise with this revelation, everything else made sense. It explained how he was able to pick her apart at the restaurant, dissecting her plan in a matter of moments from only a few clues before escaping, freeing the children and disabling her all at the same time.

It explained the sorrow in his eyes. The fire and the rage in his voice. He wasn't just clever. This man, this unconscious, unassuming man, was one of the most powerful creatures across the whole of time and space. Across existence.

Tak could remember reading about them, over a year ago, when she'd finally decided to browse the restricted files she “acquired” months before. There were millions of species, both those that were long dead and those that still lived. Many of them were creatures that most people in the Empire would never hear about.

At the time, she had been shocked, even angry that the Control Brains would deny them something so basic as a name, some context to these possible threats should they ever turn their minds towards the Empire. What harm would it cause to know a name?

She had picked the file at random. “Time Lord”, it said. She needed the distraction and she could do with nastily critiquing these supposed Lords of Time. At the time, she'd sneered at how pompous such creatures would need to be to choose a name like that and not be affected by some kind of hubris.

But as she read on, she learned the terrible truth and what they could do. She learned about the budding empires they had erased, the galaxies they had crushed on a whim and realised that their name undersold them if anything.

Outside of her little sphere of knowledge, outside the Empire, was a force that could have wiped out her civilisation, her advanced, intergalactic, empire-building civilisation, in the blink of an eye. And that was just their ancient past, before they had become complacent. Before she had reached the catalogue of horrors that was the Last Great Time War.

The Irken race should have known about this, if only to tread more carefully, but the Control Brains had censored this information from the general public and that scared her more than what she had learned. Why would their supposedly benevolent overseers decide to hide this from them? To what end? Why would they manipulate her people like that?

Disturbed by the implications, questioning the ideals she'd had since... forever, she'd closed the file and not touched it since. But now, with the truth revealed about the Doctor, she could feel that same creeping dread crawling up her spine, chilling her to the bone.

Unsurprisingly, her computer scoffed at her reaction. While caution was programmed into her, true fear and other self-limiting emotions weren't part of its make up. “Well, it’s painfully obvious that someone survived.” she sneered grimly. “There’s more. You remember the files that were double encrypted? The ones you never touched after reading about the Time Lords?”

“Go on.” Tak swallowed.

“There is a link inside the Time Lord files that goes straight to these double encrypted files, the ones that contained information on the most deadly of the Empire's foes. The Daleks, the Cybermen, the ones who we had to avoid or always fight. His name has its own file.”

Once again, the Irken Invader reject's blood ran cold. “What?”

The screen lit up again and the words “THE DOCTOR” scrolled across it. A single file appeared, highlighted among the thousands upon thousands a computer of her size was expected to keep, flashing as it was selected from its brethren.

Of all the data on the double encrypted files, the Doctor's file was the largest. Pertaining to Irk, and her people, each entry about the Time Lord tied to the major defeat of a previously unstoppable Invader, Tallest or military campaign.

For information from other worlds, it was somehow worse. Ghost stories, tall tales, startling accounts of the fall of empires and armies being routed. Even the Daleks, invincible as they had been, had fallen repeatedly to this singular foe.

This new knowledge far outstripped the dread she'd had with the Time Lords' file. This time, she had context, scale and comparisons. That throughout the universe, there existed a single, common legend that one man was capable of all this. One being, who had blazed through horrible abominations bent on conquering worlds or destroying unstoppable armies of nanomachines or dark gods, who was right here in her basement, shackled and asleep.

But he was no myth.

“The Doctor,” Tak's computer said, highlighting the ancient being in a beam of light, “Is not just some meddlesome alien… he’s the definitive article.”

Tak very slowly turned to face her prisoner. Crossing over to him and treading carefully, she knelt down to look up into his face.

He was still under, unconscious and unaware. Alright, so that was one thing in her favour. She quietly retreated and edged back to the console, collapsing into the seat there, her mind racing.

“Computer…” she began, her voice nervous and hoarse. “What… what do I do?”

The computer seemed at a loss for words, stunned that the Irken's usually rational way of thinking had been shocked into submission. “Well,” she suggested, sounding condescending, “You could kill him.”

She could. Really, she could. He was there, powerless and unconscious. Shackled to boot. She could just… shoot him. Slit his throat… vaporise him… all manner of easy ways out.

“So what’s stopping me?” Tak wondered. “Statistically speaking, this is easily the best opportunity of a lifetime. The Doctor, completely at your mercy. The Sontarans would kill for that opportunity.” she noted, seeing their name race by on the list of thwarted conquests.

Yet… she couldn’t do it. There was just something that felt... wrong about the idea. Killing someone in self defence was one thing, she had been trained for that. But doing it to a prisoner who couldn't even defend themselves? Even one as dangerous as the Doctor was purported to be? It was making her feel more unsettled than she already was.

Undaunted by the moral dilemma, her computer continued making suggestions. “Or… perhaps you could sell him to the highest bidder?”

The suggestion sounded tempting on paper, but she really had no need for money. Tak was reasonably sensible when it came to financial management and had already saved enough to be comfortable, considering her background. Hell, when she became an Invader, wealth could be mined from her assigned planets at her leisure.

That didn't solve her Doctor problem though. Tak exhaled. “We just need to hold onto him until I repair my ship… then I can jus-”

“We. I’m not being left on a planet with a bunch of filthy primates.” the computer spat, interrupting her.

“Fine, we,” Tak corrected herself, shooting a hesitant glance at the Doctor, “I know, I came here to deal with Zim… but if the Doctor wakes up and moves against me, I say we should cut our losses and just run. Far away from both of them as possible. Where I won’t ever have to deal with Zim ever again...”

“And what if he wakes up and does nothing?” her computer asked.

From the edge to her voice, she wasn't appreciating Tak's sudden lack of conviction. The Irken was getting too caught up in what the Doctor was. What she would have to do if he tried to stop her. It wasn't as if she was a pushover either. His presence here was an inconvenience and perhaps, yes, a threat. But that didn't mean that Tak could shirk her self-appointed mission she'd taken fifty years ago just because she felt... what? Fear? Mercy?

Tak didn't respond. She stood up again, glaring at the Doctor. Perhaps the computer was right and she was overreacting. Back at the restaurant, despite the flashes of fire, he seemed a lot less intimidating than his reputation. He seemed too flippant. An alien prankster, with nothing better to do.

But now she knew that he had lost his race. All his family, his friends. His entire species, his planet, everything he had ever known. Even though it was some kind of front, how could he act so free? She’d seen what happened when it slipped. Yet he tried to be cordial, without wiping her from existence.

Why?

It made her blood boil, actually, just thinking about what this implied. Was he flippant towards her because she wasn't worth his time? Or did the Doctor not feel the loss of his race as much as he'd claimed in that one dark moment? Tak was a very firm believer in the idea of feeling loss, great or small. She knew she still felt hers and her less than upbeat attitude spoke volumes about what she thought about the universe.

Anger steadying her resolve once more, she clenched her hands into fists. “We carry on, as usual.” she instructed. “We don’t act worried or intimidated and when he wakes, I'll talk to him. I want to see if I can convince him to let me take Zim down. He seems sympathetic enough to hear me out at least.”

The Irken reached into one pocket and pulled something out. One of the little infrasound generators she had placed all around Bloaty's Pizza Hog to deter Zim and anyone else interested in her operations. The Doctor had given this to her after taking it out of her robots. She rolled it between her fingers, then let it tumble to the floor.

“Empty his pockets. Confiscate his equipment and destroy any of the infrasound generators that he might have with him. He could have done something with them, something to use against us.” she ordered, crushing the little device under her heel. The metal and plastic sparked once, then was crushed to broken components.

“That's more like it. At least now I won't have to take the reigns of this operation myself.” the computer said, satisfied. “Anything else?”

Tak's ignored the comment. Though her attitude was steely again, it was focused entirely on her captive. She wasn’t afraid, not any more. Now, Tak was angry about the entire situation and anger gave her focus. It was just typical, her luck turning out like this.

Yes, a cosmic god or its equivalent had appeared on her doorstep. Yes, her SIR unit knocked him out and her computer tried to torture him. Yes, he would likely be furious when he awoke for those reasons alone. But she had just rolled over at the whole prospect and was almost willing to surrender, rather than face the Doctor's wrath. That wasn't like her at all, not in the slightest.

Annoyed at herself, Tak was dimly aware of her computer scoffing when no further instructions came, likely thinking her creator had gone back to being overly cautious. She ignored the downloaded personality again.

The Irken woman was too busy glaring at the Doctor, the ultimate spanner-in-the-works, the most meddlesome force in all of creation with undisguised determination and fury.

Because now, despite all her anger, she had a feeling that he was about to ruin everything for her as well.

#Doctor Who #Invader Zim #Crossover #Fanfiction #Interlopers Invaders Investigators and Doom #Chapter 8 #IIID #I KEPT MY PROMISE ABOUT RELEASING BEFORE FLORPUS EVEN IF IT WAS JUST BY A FEW HOURS! #I've been away for so long that the page break function got removed from the default text editor #not to mention links #oh well that's why I've got a hotbar set up for it #I'd also like to note that IIID has been through two IZ revivals now and at least 3 Doctors (including the current one) #heck 4 if you count the War Doctor #anyway here's hoping to more frequent updates #if Florpus doesn't break me that is #but we'll see

[almosthumanophelia]

Defective

Invader Zim Fic

Words: 2060

((WARNING! Very angsty. Heavy discussion of Zim’s defective status.

Found this little thing I wrote a while ago just sitting around and it still hurts my heart so I’m sharing the hurt.

@zimisnotdefective I believe this is what you wanted to see...))

~

"So not to worry, my Tallest. My next plan to defeat the humans will definitely destroy them once and for all."

Zim hated reporting these failed plans to his leaders. It wounded his self pride. Any self-respecting Irken Invader with the technical and strategic knowledge he possessed should have obliterated Earth ages ago. He knew it, and the Tallest knew it. Hell, all of Irk and half of the rest of the galaxy probably knew it too.

Yet somehow they never seemed surprised to hear of his failures. Nor were they ever particularly interested to hear from him. This time was no exception.

"Yes, Zim, I'm sure it will," Tallest Red told him in a patronizing tone as he monitored some unseen screens. He seemed far more preoccupied with whatever he was looking at than Zim's words.

Zim caught the barely audible voice of Purple saying, "Speak for yourself."

He could feel his fist automatically forming behind his back. They thought he never heard what they said behind his back, and occasionally to his face. But he always did.

It's not as if he could say anything to them. The Invader code of conduct demanded absolute respect for the Tallest at all times. No matter what they did to you. He had to accept any verbal abuse dealt to him, or face the consequences. The best he could hope for now was to end the call quickly.

"Will there be anything else, my Tallest?"

"No, no, you just get back to HEY DONUTS!" Red quickly got sidetracked as he and Purple expressed their enthusiasm for the newly arrived snacks. They left Zim's view, and after a few seconds of waiting, he assumed he was dismissed and hung up the call.

Left in the silence of his base to think, he focused his eyes on the controls for the screen, his magenta eyes narrowing slightly. Had they been anyone other than the Tallest, he would have called them back and started screaming, demanding their respect. He was an Invader, after all. Ask any race in the galaxy, and they would tell you that they knew better than to joke at an Irken Invader's expense.

But that was just it, wasn't it? He was a joke to them. He always had been. As much as he pretended he wasn't, and he put on a front convincing everyone of his high levels of self-esteem, that was all it was. A front, a facade, a masquerade. When derogatory whispers followed you wherever you went, it was difficult to have any self-esteem whatsoever. And the whispers, the ones that had dogged him since his smeethood, called him all sorts of things. Defective was chief among them.

Zim knew what it meant to be considered a defective Irken. Your PAK was faulty, the encoded data was corrupted, and you were either a waste of matter or a danger to your race, or both. It had never been proven in his case, of course. And he vehemently denied such accusations every time they arose. Doing anything else would be suicide. Defective Irken were almost uniformly condemned to full erasure from the collective, complete with deactivated PAKs, functionally leaving them to die. His sense of self-preservation was far too strong to ever allow himself to entertain such thoughts when he knew where they would lead.

But always, in the back of his mind, he wondered. Could they be right? His difficulties in conquering planets, in finishing his projects, even in staying focused and free of emotion - they all were common indicators. Even he didn't always feel in control of his own actions. The rampage of destruction that had gotten him banished in the first place had felt so surreal, as if someone else were making him do all those things. Looking back, he had never meant to go that far. And there were so many other incidents like that scattered throughout his life. Maybe those were glitches in his programming. Or maybe those were glitches causing him to dwell on the matter at all.

The logic chain made his head hurt. He gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut for a minute as his hands went to the sides of his head. No, he couldn't think that way. If he for one moment truly believed he was defective, then he was defective. And to accept that meant accepting he was as worthless as the others said he was.

Chores. He needed to do chores. Anything to busy his mind. His PAK needed some basic circuitry tune-ups. That was simple enough to do.

Making his way over to the nearest laboratory table, Zim had a few cables connect to his PAK and remove it, setting it on the table in front of him. At the same time, additional cables, used as a temporary life support while he worked on his PAK, connected to his spine where the metal hemisphere once was. Perfect. Now he could work indefinitely.

A few tools was all it took for him to get started. Zim found the repetitive motions of his circuit work easy to follow. Disconnect, check the wires, replace, reconnect, repeat. Focusing on this small feat of engineering was already helping to clear his mind. This, at least, was something he was good at. He had always prided himself on his ability to manipulate technology.

The minutes ticked by, and Zim soon had his upgrades complete. He nodded in satisfaction. Now the PAK would process data just the tiniest bit quicker.

Unbidden, a few wayward thoughts began to creep into his mind. Why stop there? Why couldn't he just rip out the circuits altogether and replace them with faster, better ones? And while he was at it, why couldn't he probe deeper into the PAK's inner workings? Maybe he could discover the malfunctions that caused him so much trouble.

Or maybe he could even fix whatever it was that made him seem defective.

He stared at the PAK. His tools were still in his hands, and he hasn't closed it up yet. It would be so easy to just reach inside and tweak a few things. But one wrong move, one misstep, and he could die. The PAK was a combined brain and life support. If Zim so much as touched the wrong wires, he could render himself a drooling vegetable, or suffocate because his lungs stopped functioning, or something even worse.

His hand shook slightly, and soon his entire body was shaking with it. For once in his life, he was really afraid. Just thinking about all the horrific ways in which damaging his PAK could destroy him was making him uneasy.

And yet, his hand hovered over the open panel, moving ever closer. He had to try, didn't he? Anything was better than living his life as a joke, an outcast thrown aside like last week's garbage. He was so tired of living this way. He didn't care how he changed, he just needed to change.

The spanner he had been holding clinked slightly against the metal shell of the PAK, and he blinked. It had snapped him out of a reverie, and he looked down at his gloved hand. The tool was causing a slight metallic echo as his hand trembled.

All at once, Zim felt a wave of nausea and horror hit him as it dawned on him what he was about to do. He immediately pulled his hand, and the spanner, back from the panel. Just as quickly, he threw the spanner across the room, not caring that it hit his consoles and equipment with a few loud clangs. He frantically pressed a few buttons to reinstall his PAK, then doubled over, arms curled around his midsection. He hardly noticed it reconnect, and it hardly mattered anyway.

Had he really been so ready to risk his life? Without thorough schematics of a PAK that he was sure he didn't have, he had no hope of making successful adjustments to his personality or complex thought processes. He knew that. And yet he had almost tried it anyway.

He crumpled further, curling up on the floor and pressing his hands to his head, ignoring the discomfort he caused himself by pressing on his antennae too hard. Whimpers began to force themselves from his throat, and his tiny body only shook more.

Thoughts were flooding his brain. If he even attempted such a thing, surely he had to be defective. There was no other explanation. All his failures, all his shortcomings, they all added up now. It all made sense. He had never amounted to anything because he never could amount to anything. It didn't matter how hard he tried or how much he wished he was different. He was wrong, he was fundamentally, irreversibly wrong. He shouldn't even have been allowed to live in the first place. The very fact that he existed at all was disgusting. He didn't deserve it. He deserved to be wiped.

The whimpers grew louder and tears burned in his eyes. His fingers dug into the skin over his skull and he started to rock back and forth on the cold metal floor. Why was he like this? Why did these things always come back to plague him? Every time he overheard the Tallest comment on his failures, and every time he could sense one of his kin laughing at him, this was inevitably where he ended up. The injustice of it all made him want to scream. He never asked to be made this way.

Soon he was screaming. But the screaming was mixed with choked crying as tears poured from his eyes and the convulsive sobs wracked his body. All the while, one word kept ringing through his head.

Defective. Defective. Defective defective defective defective defective.

It hurt, it hurt. Everything hurt. His antennae, his spooch, his eyes, his mind. It all physically hurt. Everything he was feeling was just too much. He found himself almost wishing he had shorted out his PAK after all, just to spare himself feeling all of this. But no, he wasn't brave enough to even try. What use was he?

His brain was screaming at him, and he screamed back. There were no words, only shrill noises born of pain. There was no greater pain than this, than knowing what he really was. He was a broken, useless thing. A defective, a monstrosity, a waste of skin and organs. Every inch of him was wrong, and that had to be why it hurt so much. The pain was unbearable now, and all he could think was make it stop, please, anyone or anything, just find him and make it stop.

But nobody did.

Zim didn't emerge from his base for two days after that episode. When he did, his steps were more cautious, more slow. He told the Skool he had been sick, and why wouldn't they believe him? They had no reason to care any more beyond that.

Even Dib had noticed his attitude shift. Zim's unwillingness to respond quite as well to his taunts had left the boy confused.

"Zim, what's wrong with you?" Dib said it in a mostly puzzled tone, tinged with contempt. But there was a slight concern underlying it.

What was wrong? Where should he start?

It didn't matter. Even if he were to tell Dib what was wrong, the child would never understand, not really.

Zim flashed his trademark smirk and assumed an air of superiority for his reply. "Nothing at all, pitiful Earth monkey. I am clearly amazing to my core. Not that I could say the same for you. You might want to have that big head of yours checked out."

"My head is not big!" Dib was exasperated and annoyed now, and stalked off, clearly satisfied with Zim's answer.

Zim fidgeted his gloved hands slightly as Dib left. For just a moment, he regretted being so harsh. But it was better if nobody got too close to him, given his unsurpassed abilities to cause collateral damage. Until he could get himself in proper functioning order, he couldn't afford to care. He couldn't afford to present himself as anything less than completely superior. So he would keep parroting how brilliant he was, how fantastic and so much better than everyone else he was.

Maybe if he kept saying those things, he would one day believe them.

#munwritesfics #invader zim #zim #my writing #((oops my hand slipped and I wrote a giant piece of Zim angst and feels lookie there)) #((cleary posting this late at night because IZ has all control of my life now))