A/N: This is my OC Entry for the Battle Royal by heartofstone15. I apologize in advance if I didn't follow the structure exactly. D: Also, there's a lot of blood mentioned in this, so feel free to skip those parts if you wish. Enjoy!~

Disclaimer: I don't own Invader Zim or Battle Royal. I own this OC! Yay!~

Name: Benedict

Species: Irken

Physical Features: 4'6" Flat head with circular green eyes. Antennae are fixed in a permanent upward perk and one of them is slightly jagged. Back is normally slouched. Wears a long lab coat with three buckled straps around the waist. Has black boots with square toes. Hangs a noose loosely around his neck.

Personality: Not sociable. Spends a lot of time by himself, fiddling with various objects. He's a "leap before you look" type of person and also never listens to rules.

Weapon of Choice: Jagged Dagger and noose.

Fighting Style: Hanging his opponent and then carving his initial into the almost dead body.

Abilities: Has a knack for knowing 17 pressure points on the Irken body.

Age: 22 Years

Anything Noteworthy: Was a former scientist before eventually being bumped down to Table-headed Service Drone status. Started quite a few small rebellion but all his efforts were exploited almost immediately. Recently murdered seventeen smeets and twelve newly appointed Irken Invaders. Has a lack of hearing because of his antenna and sometimes speaks in nursery rhymes and children's song.

Dark clouds laced the sky as the suns went down over the planet Irk. There would be no rain pouring down from the sky; the clouds were only there to notify the remaining citizens on the street to go home. Benedict sneaked behind a back alley dumpster. He was not daunted by these clouds. They had no message for him. Nothing ever applied to Benedict. He was an outcast, a loser, a criminal, a murderer. He liked that last part, it sounded nice when it was rolled off the tounge. The Irken sat down, legs crossed. He reached into his lab coat pockets and dug around then for a while. His hand stopped and clenched around the object. Benedict's eyes darted around, looking for any Irken guards or police. Once he knew the coast was clear, he pulled out the small lump of food. It most likely was bread, but now was no time to be picky, especially in the situation he was in. He slowly bit into it and chewed slowly. This was all he had for the day, stolen from the same dumpster behind him. This alley was his home now. No one wanted an ex-scientist, ex-Table-headed Service Drone, or a murderer in their house. Benedict was all three.

His eating was soon interrupted as he saw an Irken guard appear, stop, and then disappear as soon as it had arrived. There were a few clicking noises, barely audible to the Irken behind the garbage dump.

"Stupid antenna." He mumbled, before standing. He dusted off his lab coat and made his way over to the spot where the guard previously was. Benedict glanced around. Nothing seemed to be out of place. This Irken knew this back alley like the back of his three-fingered hand. A clattering noise came from the skip, and Benedict turned around a few seconds after the noise rose into the air. One of his antenna was damaged, which caused him to hear things much quieter and later than normal Irkens. It was merely a stray SIR, grabbing some hardware. Benedict was reminded of himself just through that simple action. Always searching, never stopping t fix past mistakes.

The Irken turned to face the alley wall once more. He then noticed something he had previously overlooked. There was a piece of paper stating a few unimportant details about the current Irken news. He was about to turn when he saw a rather interesting notice. "Battle Royal, eh? This should be interesting." He fingered the noose around his neck as he read the details. His blank face gradually turned into one of slight interest, then to one of pleasure, then to one of full bred madness. "Hell yes." He announced before throwing the paper to the ground and rushing off to his next destination.

"If you go down to the woods today, you're in for a big surprise." Benedict sang as he slunk through the nearly empty streets. "If you go down to the woods today, you better go in disguise." He slowed his pace as he reached an Irken guard. The guard gave him a strange look and raised his taser.

"Halt. What business do you have, Benedict?" The guard hissed. Benedict lightly chuckled.

"I'm only hear to ask about the so-called 'Battle Royal' you are hosting." He paused and glanced at the guard. The former raised his taser higher. The Irken in the lab coat chuckled. "Ease, soilder. I was mearly looking for a name tag of some sort. I'm am ex-Table-headed Service Drone. Also a former scientist. I'm used to looking for name tags. Politeness isn't ever forgotten, even after you've murdered, oh, twenty nine Irkens. Seventeen of them smeets. I'd be glad to tell you all the details." He let out a small smile. The guard grimaced. "No? Some other time then. It's a great story. Anyhow, enough chit-chat. Take me to this Battle Royal." The guard cleared his throat.

"Very well. This way." He moved forward and Benedict followed.

"For every bear that ever there was, will gather there together because, today's the day...the teddy bears have...their picnic."

Once again the suns slowly rose on this all too familiar planet. The alley were Benedict once lived was now empty, and he was now waiting inside a lobby. In chains of course. Unlike him, other Irkens didn't think being a murderer was an amazing achievement.

He swung his legs back and forth as he waited.

"Five little monkeys..." He started to sing before he was poked by a nearby guard.

"Quiet! No sound is to come out of you while you wait for your evaluation." He snapped. The other guard grunted and stared down at Benedict. He felt like cowering, but instead fingered the noose around his neck.

This noose was special. He had made it himself. He was originally going to use it to commit suicide, but instead he found another method of using it. One, it was quite a smart fashion item. It could be a tie, a collar, or whatever he wanted it to be. The second reason was that it was an excellent way to make people feel a slow and painful death. Hanging was outlawed on Irk, but Benedict was known for breaking the rules. And innocent Irken's necks.

His hands clenched around the dagger in his pocket. This was his second item of necessity. The jagged blade provided another excellent way to let the victim suffer. It would let the blood ooze out from the stab marks, and as a finishing touch, Benedict would carve a large jagged "B" into the body. A signature. And a pretty epic one if he could say so himself. It was kind of stupid, considering that it was easy to recognize. The only thing that mattered to this "bad boy" was that it would look satisfying.

He continued to wait for his evaluation to begin. This was going to be an epic battle. And Benedict was going to win. Or die trying.