Rock that body.
Come on, come on.
Rock that body.
It all had started with the drugs, she mused.
Zimmerman Nikolai Seareovich had never known his true parents, he had been—for all intents and purposes—bred in a lab. In a nation so set on global domination that no amount of morals would stand in the way, Zim and a legion of others had been drafted into the military from a young age.
After a short but crippling life of being a child soldier in the wars of a foreign country, he had been kidnapped by separatists fleeing the country and brought to Europe. Following a prolonged—and half-successful—rehabilitation effort, he had been placed in the orphanage system, but when that had failed to produce results, he had then ultimately been sent to America.
A collection of orphanages after orphanages had seen the young boy cross both oceans and land masses before finally coming to a brief halt in the city of Membrane, named after its famed resident scientist. The couple that had taken Zim in had tried to raise the boy as their own, however it had failed spectacularly.
The couple, from the get-go, had been openly gay and this had clashed insanely with Zim's culture and background. The ideological rift between them had only caused the rest of their relationship to falter and shatter. Different life views, ages, and personalities had pushed tolerance out the window and brought damnation to the good will of a pair of unprepared guardians.
The abuse of life was simply too much to be corrected it seemed.
Zim's first and last foster parents simply vanished into the night. There was no paper work, there was no court date; there was simply an empty house and a emotionless inhabitant. The screaming and physical destruction that had followed had seen more than one cruiser from the local police force called in. Rather than go through the hell of orphanages and adoption again, Zim had simply requested—and won—the right to live by himself in his "family's home."
The boy so known for his rage, his insanity, and his offsetting yellowish-green skin had quickly done as most do when faced with endless insanity. He had sought an outlet of some sort in which he could escape the pain. A way to forget and ignore the glaring holes in his life for as long as he liked.
He had searched for days.
And he had found it.
It came in many sizes, colors, and mixtures; though his favorite was vodka by all accounts. The alcohol had been easy to obtain and the funds needed had been easy to acquire due to the various charities supporting both parent-less children and young adult start-ups. However, due to the funds he was receiving, Zim had been forced to attend school.
Through school, he found even more routes to escape.
Drugs had followed soon after; the ever varying assortment of substances had quickly dug even deeper into him than the alcohol had. Shortly after that addiction began came cigarettes,which were not as heavily hit upon as cigars, but both were still heavily present in both his life and his home.
Finally the ultimate addiction had rang out and been captured in his addicted claws.
Sex.
The lost little boy had become a renowned sexual prowler. Countless women throughout the school soon found his skin to be a turn-on and not long after that Zim was regarded as a monster of the night that could rival any upperclassman. However, he only ever focused on one woman at a time and he had never joined the parties that he was invited to.
He preferred to remain alone it seemed. Why? She didn't really know, nor terribly did she really care. But she didn't really need to know, nor did she really need to care.
She just really needed the one thing he could provide.
Revenge.