Quick Zim character study. He may not be a rabid invader anymore, but he's still got his Irken pride. He's the superior race, after all. Hard to bring down that kind of mentality. Rated T for language. Meant to be uplifting, not angsty. Enjoy.
-0-
He had done his grieving.
There was nothing left to do. Nothing left to say.
It was what it was.
Of course this was not how he felt at the beginning. There were secretions from his eyes that could be construed as tears. Lots of screaming. Lots of cursing. He flew into a rage, throwing wrenches into the flickering computer screens, watching his beloved oblivious sir unit dance in the leaking plasma, not knowing at all what had just been conspired against the two of them. Claws raking across leprose lime green skin. Shaking, guttural growls and savage cries to the heavens.
Relieved of his duty, he was a terminated soldier.
It was no wonder they went to so much trouble to lie to him. He was a blind fool.
No. They are the fools.
He had the passion. He had the stamina. They only saw his height, not his brutality, his thirst for battle and efficiency.
They were so damned in his eyes.
Then again, so was he.
He could not bring himself to explain in completion to himself just why he had become so docile. So docile, that he would purposefully bring himself out into this piss ant world he once sought to conquer in earnest.
It was a lonely hill, one that overlooked the entire city.
Leaning against the fragile stump of a slaughtered tree, Zim reached up to grab his obsidian wig, almost as though the action was not of his own volition. He gripped it gently, sliding it off his head, letting his scaly antennae free themselves from the guise. He then brought his hand up to his eye, the sticky amniotic fluid stretching and dangling from his removed contact lenses.
Free.
When he wished he was still a slave.
But it was what it was.
It was not as though he had made peace with it. He hadn't. But a strange calm had come over him, relieving him of any desire to leave the planet, and seek revenge on those who had betrayed him.
The city looks a certain way today. I cannot place it. Perhaps it is because I am looking over it, not within the wretched organism.
He tried his hardest to sustain his hatred for Earth. And though he still didn't necessarily like it, there were certain things to appreciate about it that could be compared to the phenomena he had seen on other various worlds. He remembered how impressive the northern lights were. Or how a hurricane looked in full swing. Perhaps a lightning storm from a stellar view. And as much as he despised admitting it, rain may have burned like a spitting cat being burned alive, but the smell of it was absolutely delightful.
Zim was never one to enjoy the little things in life. He wanted it all. He wanted it big, and he wanted it now. Everything he did in life was to impress the Tallest.
And all this time, they were laughing at him.
He supposed deep down he knew the truth. But that still didn't make it hurt any less.
The bastards. The cowardly bastards.
Sighing heavily, puffing his cheeks outward like a dissatisfied child. He was becoming soft. Becoming weak.
It was the humans who were supposed to have these wishy washy emotions. Irken invaders needed no one but themselves.
He wanted to feel some form of fury again. That insatiable violence that only comes from the bloodbath of genocide.
After all, it was all he was bred for. All he was taught. And he embraced it like any other Irken.
Sometimes he imagined what it was like for all the other invaders, how the master race welcomed them home from conquest with open arms.
Those days seemed so long ago, and yet so recent. Recent enough that every now and then he did prefer the past to the present.
It's about time someone as superior as I follow their own ripe path. I've still got several hundred years to go, might as well enjoy them being free from having to suck up to such pathetic excuses of Irken rule.