Invader Skarrch, baby-stealer, dirty traitor, and (occasional) sitcom host surreptitiously scratched his neck. For some reason he'd had an itch there the last couple of days: he' have to get that looked at. Of course, this situation was made easier by the fact that he was in a room full of the finest medical experts Earth and Irk had to offer.
Their attention was occupied by the large glass tube in the center of the room, or, more accurately, what laid within. Cradled in a nest of wires and tubes which kept it alive was a tiny smeet, no bigger than his hand. Normally, it would have grown quickly to the size of his head, but it was currently in a state of cryogenic stasis.
"I still say that we should take it back to the Smeeting facility. At least there we can guarantee its success."
A tall, dark-haired man in a collarless lab-coat spoke up: "You forget that this is not a pure Irken smeet. Its genes have been mixed with that Earth symbiote. We can't predict its reactions to procedures designed for pure Irken."
Skarrch nodded. "Of course, Doctor Blacke. Though I doubt you know much about said procedures."
"Yes, but, oh, um, erm" the man stared uncomfortably at a column of black smoke rising behind Skarrch.
"What?"
"There's some, uh, smoke behind you."
Skarrch whirled around. "Oh, that's just a friend," he said casually. the smoke resolved itself into the shape of the Producer, who silently whipped out an arm from beneath his cloak. On the end of the arm was a hand, which was grasping a small, struggling Irken by the neck.
"I found this loitering outside the studio door," he said, dropping the Irken, who began to dust himself off. "I thought you might need an engineer."
The Irken straightened, and a flash of recognition came across the faces of all present (except the Producer). "I AM ZIM! RELEASE ME AT ONCE!"
Skarrch shook his head. "I think I can handle him," he said to the Producer, who vanished. "Now, what were you doing? There's a NO LOITERING sign clearly posted outside the door"
"I have come to rescue the smeet of me and my love-pig, Zee"
"Ah, but she's not yours, Zim," Skarrch dismissed, motioning to a wall screen with some spinning DNA spirals, as if that made it all obvious.
"What? Huh?"
"Miss Zee's been gettin' busy." said Skarrch, barely containing his laughter.
"WHAT? HUH?"
"She's with another man, Zim."
"THAT [EXPLETIVE DELETED]!"
"I know. Here's how you get your revenge: help us build a smeeting chamber for this smeet. That'll show her!"
"YES! SHE WILL FEEL THE WRATH OF ZIMMMM!"
"How's it going, Zim?"
"Oh, pretty well. I had to make some changes to the design though."
"Why?
"The old one was stupid." said Zim, motioning to a hologram of a spherical chamber with some tubes and tanks stuck haphazardly to the sides.
"I suppose it'll do."
2 months later...
The tension in the air was palpable. The chamber had worked(as far as could be told), the smeet had he right number of limbs, eyes, and antennae, and Skarrch had a black market PAK all ready. But this was the first decanting outside of a Smeetery in , well, ever. That Skarrch had insisted on attaching the PAK himself wasn't helping either.
"Okay, decant on 3." said a human lab tech.
"3"
"2"
"1!" Skarrch rushed into action, attaching the PAK to the back of his smeet before I'd even rolled out of the chamber fully; and using the shock prod to get me breathing
And I opened my eyes...
That's right, this story is written in FIRST PERSON, [EXPLETIVE DELETED]s! WOO! Review to keep it coming!
Next chapter: Sugarcane, Dib, and MAGIC!
SKARRCH OUT *POW,HAHA!*