Chapter I
The Time the Base Exploded and Things Got Bad
There were plenty of ways Zim could have reacted to the sight held before him, and in this case he decided to pull viciously on his antennae, an act most Irkens only committed when reaching their peak of absolute rage. The intolerable pain now shooting through him was nothing compared to the mental anguish he was now suffering.
His base, his most cherished center of protection from the natural horrors that covered the disgusting blue-green planet he currently resided on, was in ruins. Nothing but bits of metallic debris, concrete, and a lovely set of holes located on both of buildings next to where his base used to be greeted him. Nothing was salvageable, and anything that could have been used to return the base to what it once was had either been destroyed or was in a big hurry to melt away.
Nothing was left. Nothing could be saved. Not even his ship had—
Zim gasped, his hands hovering around his now aching antennae. His ship, his pride and joy, his only true love - dead. His custom built Voot Runner, the one with the adorned furnishing, the sturdy engine that never quit, even when it didn't have fuel, and the most trustworthy cup holder the young Irken had ever had the chance to own.
Gone. All Gone.
The damn thing was practically spill proof! It was irreplaceable!
Zim nearly cried.
Instead he turned towards what he had thought was his most trustworthy companion, towards the one obviously responsible for this horrid tragedy that was his life. Gir stood, disguise pulled from his face and slightly singed from the great explosion, with his mouth open, staring at the destruction before him. He didn't even try to pretend like he was sorry.
"Gir," Zim said.
Gir turned to his master. He didn't really understand what was happening, as he often never did, but he liked where things were going. Or at least he did until his master quickly, cleanly, and rather violently ripped his head from his shoulders. The glow from his eyes strayed for a bit before turning to a dead grey.
Zim sighed, already feeling the adrenaline and extreme rage dissipating into a horrid thing the people of Earth called guilt. He felt disgusted that he even had a conscience. He knew later he would reattach the robot's head to its body, and then, after bitching a fit at the tiny robot, things would return to normal. For now he needed to think, without any interruption, about what his next move would be.
Zim thought and thought.
Zim seethed and seethed.
After hours and hours a pacing around the grounds where his home once was, the best idea he could come up with was to throw rocks at the neighbor-humans and then tell them to fuck off because he wasn't in the mood to deal with them. They would respond that they were likewise not in the mood to deal with him, and would indeed fuck off, but on their terms.
He couldn't call for help from Irk because he lacked the proper equipment to do so, but mostly because he didn't want to suffer the embarrassment of explaining that his entire base blew up, and with that went any intentions of receiving help from Dib. That was something he would never resort to. Again.
There was absolutely nothing he could do, and no one he could turn to.
Lifting a fist-sized rock, Zim threw the horrible bit of earth into the sky with a mighty roar. It shot up, higher and higher, and then descended, falling and falling. A loud yelp echoed throughout the cul-de-sac, and everyone in it hoped that was the end of it because it was very late and they wanted to get some sleep, goddammit.
Getting back up, Zim wobbled a bit and wearily touched his head. The pain was intense, and it was a possibility he could receive a nasty bruise, but that wasn't what Zim was focused on. No, instead he was focused on something that seemed somehow important. It involved a rock, not the one that had just brutally attacked him, but another rock, just as brutal. Sliding his hand down, Zim hissed as he came upon another sore spot. The rock from before… there had been a note attached to that rock! A note he had never bothered to read!
Scrounging his pockets for the note (he wasn't just going to leave it with the rock—it was evidence!), Zim came upon a crumbled and mistreated slip of paper. Zim eyes widened as he read it. The note said this:
Dear Zim,
I have returned for revenge! You shall regret the day you ever crossed my path, you little wretch! I should have been an Invader, NOT you, and I will set out to correct this horrible mistake and take what is rightfully MINE!
Love, Tak.
Zim had never been so happy to have someone that wanted to kill him on the same planet as him.
Tak's day, for the better part, had been moving along swell. Her new and improved base, a cleverly disguised donut shop that was fifty-seven stories tall, was almost complete, and she now had a legitimate excuse to constantly have donuts around her.
(Tallest Purple would have snorted at that. "She needs an excuse to have donuts? What is she, defective?" He would then order a room to be filled with donuts, and then swim in it. The climax was said to be amazing and disgusting at the same time.)
And then Zim showed up and ruined all of it by reminding her of everything she hated. Quickly catching herself, Tak responded appropriately.
"What are you doing at my base?!" She squawked.
"Eyhh ame oh mahh uh eauhh!" He responded.
"What?" Tak asked intelligently.
"Eyhh ame oh— Eyhh annt ahhk wihh ore uhhn ihn uhy outhh!" Zim cried while pointing an accusing finger at the barrel of the gun currently lodged in his mouth.
"Oh," Tak remarked, moving the gun out from the Irken's mouth to his forehead. She would have to clean it later. Thoroughly. She pressed it roughly to show she meant business, but it only managed to cause spit to smear across Zim's head. "Now," she started again, "what possibly reason could you have for coming to my base?"
Zim ignored the gross feeling of the liquid being smeared across his forehead. "I…" he started, then stopped to regain his composure, because he was really going to need it. "I came to make a deal."
She could have shot him and been done with it, or she could have listened to his ridiculous proposal and then shot him and be done with it. Tak gave a mental shrug. Putting a little more force into her grip, she gave Zim a very dangerous look.
"Go on."
By the time Zim had stopped talking they had both retired to one of Tak's many, many conference tables. Zim didn't bother to ask about it, and in fact stayed as far away from the actual question as possible. Things needed to get done and asking about a person's odd preference for furniture was not one of them. The hands that previously held Tak's head and gun were now positioned, palm-to-palm, in front of her face, just below her eyes. Behind them was the biggest shit-eating grin Zim had ever laid eyes on.
The hands, still palm-to-palm, bent forward. "Wow," was about all she could say, so she said it again. "Wow."
Zim looked away, the shame of everything finally getting to him. He stopped this mopping, however, as Tak began to cackle. Zim didn't get what was so funny.
"Oh, wow," Tak said, leaning back into her oh-so comfortable chair (special ordered from Vort, home of the universe's most comfortable couch). "That was funny," she said, "really funny. You're humorous, I'll give you that—and nothing else!" Tak snapped, rising slightly from her oh-so comfortable seat (special ordered from Vort, a planet now conquered by the Irken Empire). She glared a very harsh glare at Zim.
"Is it true, though?" She just had to ask.
Zim glared back at her. "What does it look like?"
Tak looked and looked. Yes, Zim's uniform and wig - she detested that horrible blot of hair - were both singed or ripped; and yes, his SIR, now located on top of the conference table for all to see, clearly had its head dislodged from the rest of its body, so maybe his story was actually true. But who was stupid enough to blow up their own base?
Tak remembered who she was talking to and her shit-eating grin came back full force, along with a whole new bout of laughter.
Zim still couldn't see what was so funny.
"Sign here."
He signed.
"And here."
He signed there.
"And here, once more."
He signed over there again.
"And this one, you made it horrible. Do it again."
He growled and signed way back over there.
"What was that? Where you even trying? Do it again."
He seethed through his teeth and signed, oh Irk did he sign.
"Hmm…" Tak looked the contract over, then down to Zim with a grin. "I think this will do for now." Nodding to herself, she gathered the documents that practically sold Zim's soul to her and stalked off, handing the forms to one of the robotic drones that passed by, which quickly took off in many confusing directions.
"That's it?" Zim asked skeptically. "I just have to wait a month?"
"Hmm? Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. You see, this," she indicated to GIR's dismantled head with her hand, and then for the rest of him with the other, "and this are going to be very far apart from each other for a very long time." Nodding to herself again, she handed both parts of the SIR unit to another drone, which, like the first one, took off in many confusing directions, only with more pizzazz.
Zim silently fumed. "Anything else?"
"Yes," the female Irken responded quite happily. "You see, if you had actually read the contract you would have known about all of this, but you're Zim."
Tak perked up, causing dread to swell within Zim. "None of that really matters. What does matter, however, is this!" She practically sang as she brought forth a mop and a bucket.
Zim stared at these objects with horror. "Oh no."
"Oh yes," Tak chirped, pushing both the mop and bucket into his hands. "Time to get to work, janitor."
Tak realized, after some thought, that her day really had gone swell.
AN: This could have been a Zim/VootShip romance, but that's tragedy for you. Now you'll all have to take the Zim/Tak romance and suck it up.
This was changed a bit. It's less terrible now. It's still kind of meh to me. Also, there is no hypothetical situation where Purple swims through a room of donuts, so you're all just going to have to live without it.
