InsaneJournal

Saturday morning – a typical schedule planned, as always. It had been the same for the past few years since the Irken had landed on this pathetic dirt-ball. Scowling down at the tangled shards of some useless plaything his SIR unit had brought home and left in the way of a lab exit, Zim kicked the offending item aside and made his way to the fridge. He then snatched a thoroughly unhealthy snack from it and gnawed at it irritably, meandering slowly about the house level as he did.

The SIR unit in question was, of course, absent. Probably out dancing, or eating tacos, or other such moronic things the Invader didn’t care about. Or perhaps he was up in the 'attic', chewing at the wires again. Now that was something Zim would care about.

Nevertheless, the lack of a maddening robot had the alien calming somewhat – after constant failures and frustration over his current project, a bit of peace and quiet was a blessing. But, as usual, the Earth wasn’t going to conquer itself. Letting out a grating sigh, Zim finished his snack and headed back down into the labs, and as he stepped out from the elevator, shot a dark glare at the freakishly mutated onion which had utterly and miserably failed to produce the planet-shattering destruction he so desired from its smelly form.

After a moment of simply glaring at the once-edible monstrosity, as though it had personally insulted him, the Irken shoved it away, simply – and with no pun intended – fed up with it. He then spent the next few moments just sulking, continuing to glare at nothing in particular, and quite clearly preparing to go off on one of his usual ‘destruction and doom and I AM ZIM’ kind of rants.

Rather than ranting, however, he assumed a somewhat quizzical expression and wondered just what all that rumbling was up around the surface (or so he hoped it was on the surface – if it was any portion of his base, he’d have to yell at GIR for chewing on the wires again, and though he really did enjoy yelling, it often got a bit tiresome, seeing as the little robot forced him to do it a lot more than was really necessary).

Fortunately for the tiny Irken, his question was answered rather quickly, and even more fortunately, it didn’t have anything to do with GIR chewing on wires. Of course, with good news, there’s usually bad news to go along with it, especially when mysterious and almost explosion-like rumblings are taken into consideration.

Incoming transmission or…something, the computer drawled blandly, and had it been capable of giving an exasperated sigh or eye-roll, it most likely would have done either (or even both) as it continued, Should I patch them through, Master?

Antennae perked up, and Zim scooted over to the main terminal. “Is it the Tallests?” he asked excitedly, glee tossing logic out the window in the usual Zim-fashion; had it been the Tallests, the computer would have mentioned so, and the Tallests never called, anyway.

Er…no, but… the computer replied almost hesitantly before it was quite swiftly interrupted by its master, who clearly hadn’t been listening.

“Well, what are you waiting for, put them through! Do it now!” the Invader screeched, adding on in a strangely giddy lilting tone, “Mustn’t keep the Tallests waiting~!”

Had it been able, the computer most likely would have grimaced. Instead, it gave a very small measure of silence, which it had finely calculated down to the millionth decimal point to show an almost impeccable amount of disdain without actually sparking anyone’s (specifically Zim’s) ire. It then responded, with a tone that was quite near being weary without actually being so, Very well, Master…

The terminal’s screen lit up with static for a moment as the connection was processed, Zim grinning widely and preparing to greet his leaders with an impeccable salute and proof of his newest plan to ensure the human race’s doom. He didn’t actually have a new plan, considering how much of an utter failure the onion mutation had been, but his Tallests didn’t really need to know that. He'd have the onion thing figured out eventually, anyway (he was Zim, after all). The grin promptly faded when the static vanished and was replaced with a visage that was clearly not either of his Tallests, and was quite clearly not even Irken.

“What is this?!” Zim exclaimed, somewhat offended and definitely repulsed – the creature staring back at him was positively hideous! “You’re not my Tallests! How dare you trick my computer into thinking so!”

But - I told you it wasn’t them.

“SILENCE!” the Irken shrieked in reply, not even paying attention to whatever it was the computer had said. He then jabbed a finger towards the alien on-screen. “And YOU!” he began, eyes narrowing and the hand not occupied with pointing curling into a fist, “Just who are you?!”

The creature, who had been watching Zim’s antics with an almost amused expression, rumbled slightly – a possible equivalent of throat-clearing – before grating out, “Sergeant Vxxethasylcb, and I’m here to-“

Zim was quick to interrupt. “Vxxethasylcb?” he repeated incredulously (gaining a wince when he quite splendidly mispronounced it). “Wow, how do you even spell that?” There was a small pause, in which the other alien blinked all four eyes before pulling a rather strange face.

“I…don’t know, really,” Vxxethasylcb admitted. “Anyway, I’m here to inform you that-“

Once again, Zim interrupted. “So what are you doing here?”

There was another pause before the alien gave a harsh exhale of air that almost sounded like – but completely differed from – an exasperated sigh. “To make things simple, we – that is, the Krakemeth race - have destroyed most, if not all, of the Earthenoids taking residence here.”

“Oh,” the Irken replied blankly, the hand he'd been pointing at the alien with such fervor dropping back down to his side. Silence followed, in which the alien waited expectantly and Zim scratched at a particularly stubborn itch on his rear. Then, something clicked, and he quickly backtracked over the other’s words. “Wait, WHAT?!”

“Yes, lovely, isn’t it?” the so-called ‘Krakemeth’ gurgled cheerfully in response. “And that’s not the best part, either!”

Zim wasn’t so sure he wanted to know – in fact, now he was more concerned with whether or not he’d be able to convince the Tallests that it was him and not this…Krake-whatever race that had brought about the end of humanity. Despite this, he forced down his uneasiness, glaring metaphorical daggers as he snarled, “How dare you! I was here first – wiping out the humans was my job! What makes you think you can just waltz in and steal my victory – ZIM’S victory?!”

The Krakemeth’s dual-arms wavered about in what was almost-clearly a shrug. “Our race has no agreement with yours over invasion territories; we do what we want. And when we’re asked to do things we want, that’s even better.” This last bit had an antennae quirking curiously, though Zim wasn’t able to get in even so much as a thought before Vxxethasylcb continued speaking. “Moving on, though, you never asked what the best part of it all was.” Its tone took on a strange gurgling that the Invader couldn’t decipher the meaning of. “Come on, trust me, you’ll want to hear it – it’s really great!”

This was met with silence as the Irken continued to glare, claws twitching in a manner that suggested he’d like to curl them around what he assumed was the creature’s neck – yes, he thought, this thing deserved to be strangled. His mission… Growling lightly after a moment, he questioned icily, “So what’s the best part?”

The creature emitted yet more gurgling, unable to say anything for a moment – Zim realized then that it was laughing, and at him no less, which only grated on his nerves further.

“Well?!” he snapped, sick of this disgusting alien’s behavior. “What is it?”

“Ah, yes!” Vxxethasylcb chirped in what could have been a vaguely embarrassed manner before it gave another tiny gurgle. “The best part,” it began, gurgles ceasing and its tone taking on a clearly pleasant lilt, “The best part is that now that we’ve finished annihilating the ‘humans’, as you call them, we’re going to have a bit of fun.” The alien paused for a small gurgle-laugh before finishing gleefully. “Because now we’re going to kill you.”

There was a slight pause, in which the statement sank in with surprising quickness. “WHAT?!” Zim wasn’t able to screech before he was phased from where he stood. The word caught in his throat as his molecular structure was disassembled, moved through the labyrinth of his base and several layers of rock, and was reassembled rather hastily on the street just outside his freakish house. Upon being plunked down on the asphalt, the loud ‘WHAT?!’ chose then to dislodge itself from Zim’s throat, leaving the Irken feeling rather silly when he realized he’d shouted it at a ruined – and thus empty – neighborhood.

A quick and quite nearly blinding flash of light, followed by an immense rumbling from behind, prompted Zim to turn on his heel, an action which very nearly threw him off-balance; eyes widened and trailed upward to settle on the round chrome cockpit of an enormous battle mech before lowering back down to where his base stood – or rather, used to stand. Nervousness (but not fear, the Irken assured himself, as fear was a weakness, and he was not weak) settled in the very bottoms of his ‘spooch, and he averted his eyes from the massive crater where his base had been, gaze once again settling on the mech.

If he squinted, he could just make out the form of the Krakemeth inside – by the way it was waving both hands of a dual-arm at him and grinning pleasantly (or so he assumed), it was most likely Vxxethasylcb. Of course, seeing as they apparently all meant to kill him, a Krakemeth he only vaguely knew really wasn’t any better than a Krakemeth he didn’t know.

The mech lowered and leaned forward, two thick appendages on its sides crunching against the asphalt on either side of Zim and keeping it propped up as the three appendages below began to splay themselves out in accordance to the loss in height. Once the cockpit was as even as possible with the Irken below, the covershield raised to allow Vxxethasylcb to communicate without blasting Zim’s auditory senses to uselessness – a rather futile gesture of courtesy, all things considered.

“Try to fight back before I crush you, will you?” Vxxethasylcb began conversationally, that maddeningly pleasant tone still present. “It won’t be any fun otherwise. So make it interesting for the onlookers, you know?” It waved a dual-arm almost dismissively behind it, where Zim could make out groups of smaller droids – only a few times his own size – gathering together.

“Wha…” The Irken backed up a bit, looking around with an almost hopelessly lost expression. He’d been expecting them to try to kill him, of course, but not by turning it into some kind of amusing spectacle like this – this was just barbaric. Of course, his own race indulged in such entertainment every once in a while as well, but...that was different matter altogether. His gaze returned to Vxxethasylcb, unnerved confusion clear, and the Krakemeth gave a little grumble and a swivel of its smaller eyes; yet another gesture Zim couldn’t determine what for, and he didn’t really want to in the first place.

“As much as I’ll enjoy this, I can’t say I’d like to be in your place right now,” Vxxethasylcb grumbled lowly, giving a small shrug. “You seem like an okay little thing, but all I can really say is…for your sake…I hope you’re good at running.”

Antennae flattened as the cockpit’s covershield snapped shut once more, the mech rising to its full height to tower over the tiny Irken. It gave an ear-splitting mechanical shriek, which the smaller droids responded to with a variety of flat mechanized notes which failed to harmonize in the least, resulting in a cacophony of utter noise that had Zim reeling and clutching his antennae to his head in an attempt to block all of it out. Over the din, Vxxethasylcb’s voice, magnified and infinitely more painful to listen to, issued from the battle mech.