If you blatantly believe I possess Invader Zim you belong in The Crazy House For Boys?Girls(BWA-HAA-Haa-ha!: Can't call me Sexist now, can you.-IGNOREME J)

--

Although both of his Tallest were considered equal, which made their drones take great care to ensure they received equal attention, under penalty of Sun insertion (getting hurled into the nearest sun), First Tallest-Drone Rem found his gaze repeatedly wandering upon the speaker, the meaning of the words he spoke most probably did not register with their intended audience, but to him, they held meaning which inspired a strange feeling that made him feel…strange…

"--My name is…heh…I can no longer recollect my own name…since our long ago war on individualism, we, the Irken Elite, with not even a Smeet's handful to boast imperative immunity, no longer are permitted to keep individual names, they must now be, Generic, according to our glorious military ranking system. Those above the Invader class are currently recognized merely through their rank, or if the Irken in question has any distinguishing markings the will be known briefly, say two minutes, for the above mention exception before their PAK, prompted by one of the Control-Brain departments and jolts them out of their controversial reverie… in spite of everything, Irkens are Irkens. There are no differences. There are no differences. We're all alike, we've got to be, the all and the sundry has got to be the same…special…which, in all honesty…means no one truly is…

Prisoner: 9-237-9034-56-5-45111-345-6-765A-236-4-290

IKRKEN DATE-"

"Wait, wait, hold up!" a voice protested heatedly.

The tall, pupil-less-purple-eyed, lime-green-skinned orator lowered his heavy duty custom designed HIDE (holo-informaton disk emitter) and frowned across the room at his pink-eyed cohort, who was waving arms frenetically, n improbable wing-less bird preparing for an onerous expedition.

"What?" he shrilled, his frown furrowing deeper as his treacherous voice once again betrayed him.

"You deserve a medal." The opposing Irken growled glaring irately at a very bemused speaker who was vainly attempting to decipher the hidden meaning behind the contradicting statement. He watched him for a moment his quick anger replaced by amusement at the overtly perplexed expression on his antagonist's face. The guy was just too easy

Not for the first time purple-eyed lecturer wished he'd been placed into the Administration limb instead of the D.I.L.(Dominion of Irken Legislators) his life would have been much simpler, Stupid Tallest Miyuki for establishing laws forbidding future Tallests from acquiring the good technology from other limbs. He should have been in The Administration, if he had, he'd be able to keep his dream equipment, because, after all the removal of any PAK-installed I.H.P.T training programs would jeopardize the recipient's health, and there were several thousand laws against harming a Tallest in any way, shape or form, and so the machinery would remain, leaving him free to look into the most secret crevices of an Irken's mind. Well, supposedly it didn't quite work like that… but it was close enough to make curly fries. Curly fries were gooooooooooood. Stupid Control-Brains for putting him in the wrong group. Giving up he permitted a crushed gaze to dominate his features. "Why."

"Your Genocidal tendencies are second only to Zim." He smiled sardonically past annoyances nearly forgotten.

"What Genocidal tendencies?!" He understood Zim…that...defective… was a pure adulterated Irkacidal evil! Wait, was he comparing him to Zim? No way, his collaborator could be mean but there was no way he could be that...mean...

"Well... for starters..." And thus began The Great Dissertation which would go down in the Irken history programs as the longest speech any Tallest had attempted in over 9,074 years. His audience hadn't known history was in the making, and had he known he most likely wouldn't have cared anyway, so he effectively did what most future Plebe's would have wanted to duplicate had the task been achievable

…he tuned him out.

Rem, however, was still staring open-mouth at his Pink-slowly changing to Red-eyed Tallest Genocidal tendencies? From what he heard, His Purple Tallest hadn't even had any "Genocidal tendencies" worth mentioning in his Invader days, and if such desires didn't materialize then, they didn't exist. Sure he had a temper, sometimes physically fought with his Red Tallest, and harbored a mad desire to assassinate all small Irken's but fortuitously now viewed that as pointless dream. What was the point of being Tallest if nobody was left to serve and harass? He sighed deeply thank the Rotaerc for small miracles, he stared at his Biarchists, and realized the Red Tallest was still talking, mostly about how he was killing the precious hours of his days with his constant jabbering. he had scrubbed the antechamber from top to bottom five times since the beginning of his speech. Then emerged himself in his food preparation. His lack of proper Irken motivation had been well known and had been the Tallest Invader in his swarm for over 150 years. His height had saved him from air-lock ejection, but his passive nature had kept him from rank advancement, of course he had done well in D.I.L(where the worst that could happen was the rare paper cut from few planets they worked with that still used the little rectangular slips) if it hadn't been for that one Irken…he didn't want to think about that not now any way, he was his Tallest, which gave him instantaneous reverence among the Inferiors, which now incorporated everyone…well, except for his red-clad Tallest hovering on the antechamber's opposing side who was still talking… he could really talk…boring…he yawned silently Then hid hid a smirk, the Purple-eyed Dinarcist had unceremoniously fell asleep in mid-air listening to the calmingly mindless ramblings of his hypocritical command equivalent…

"And I finish this with a question: Why are you massacring my time by reading that junk?" he scowled contemptuously, sounding every much the dictator he truly was.

"What junk?" the speaker's mild voice questioned, gracelessly jolting out of his semi-conscious stupor, gazing wide-eyed across the space as he soothingly caressed his H.I.D.E.

"That garbage." he said sharply pointing a long manicured claw in the direction of the others' cherished mechanism. "Even a NEWLY-hatched smeet could tell you not all Irkens are the same. The taller the better." He supplemented intolerantly.

"Yes, that's how it's done now; however, you suggested that the control-brains were created to make the Tallests' lives less complicated. I told you that the control-brains have been around longer than the Tallest ranking system has existed. You said I was A-his voice lowered noticeably-defective!" he contradicted vehemently as his arms steadily mimicked his comrades' prior bird-like movements.

In contrast the pink-eyed individual gave off an increasingly calm and thoughtful impression "I don't remember ever saying any such thing-"

"-isn't kinda funny how you never remember anything you do wrong but when I do something stupid you- pounce on me?!"

"Well, I am a Tallest." He answered smugly "Irkens are only capable of getting framed for stuff they're a MRAWS-Rotcerid or below."

"Well, that's convenient, all that's left is the The Watcher, The MRAWS-controller, the Head of the board, The Citarconhcet-Scinodegla, The Control-brains, and us."

"Hmm…didn't mean to include the other Four…" he muttered rousing himself he thoughtfully paced, discontented at the thought of further factions receiving the same privileges as the Tallests. At least he could do something about that, if he wanted, of course…but in all truthfulness, who wanted to take the time out of one's busy schedule to write down new laws, anyway? That was work for either the Tnemucoden or the Tnailassak led by their respective Ycilop-Tcetihcra and MRAWS-Rotcerids to handle? Only them and the freak next to him could share that freakish fetish for paperwork and legislation…it just wasn't natural for anyone else to want to have anything to do with I … unless, of course, it had to do with him getting a new plasma-laser-thingy to play… ahem…re-equipping the missive's weapon's base. That was fun

"-which is why I suggested…" The purple-eyed Irken glanced over at his partner who had long since lost attention with the conversation and shuddered inwardly. That gleaming unholy light radiating off of his wicked pink eyes was enough to revitalize the deactivated and kill them all over again. Scary… "Are you even listening me?" he shot accusingly across the room. Dragging himself forcibly from the inviting images of beautiful, lasery-doom-filled chaos

"Yes…"

"Then what was I talking about?"

"Ummm… the amazing delicousness of Curly fries?"

Short laugh. "No. although the awesome goodness of curl fries could never be in doubt, I was talking about inspecting the records and to find what was actually said."

Rem's head shot up worriedly then programming setting in, he hurriedly prepared a file-system containing the events of the last month, highlighting and placing precedence on the discussion in question, then hurriedly transferred the I information to his Purple Tallests H.I.D.E and their personal computer. All this was done as he decorated the lunch table with donuts, chips, nachos… the basic necessities of life.

"O.k... but I get to read it."

"Get on with it then!" he shouted impatiently as he watched the Drone's progress…with the curly fries.

"thank-you… alright …debated the obvious importance of lasers in a social gatherings. Much nonsense and commotion from the Purple Tallest"

"Nonsense?!"

"The Red Tallest offers reasonable and well-thought-out solution."

"REASONABLE!? You told me to go jump into a vat of HYDRAOXIC ACID"

"Blows exchanged, The Purple Tallest RECIEVES his COMEUPPANCE!"

"Oh come on, I totally won that one fair and square."

"then…oh…"

"oh, what" antennae perking up at the Co-Diarchist's tone.

"Okay… the term defective did come up." He admitted repentantly, his red eyes glancing briefly at the floor. "However," he continued upon glimpsing the rapt exultant expression gracing his colleague's face "I was merely speaking of your lack of sense, in the topic, because…, well…, you know I don't believe information unless there's proof to back up that report."

"Which is why I searched the archives and located this file IRKEN DATE-" he began exasperated, only to once again interrupted.

"-Haven't I already made it clear, I don't want to hear ANY more of your stupid-"

It was his turn to butt in"-As I was saying, in the Irken year-AHH!!" he screamed wildly as his H.I.D.E was viciously knocked out of his loving embrace. The screen sputtered then became darkened to an ominous black. His purple-eyes widened then glared at the scoundrel who had sadistically hurt his beloved instrument of choice. Then without thinking, he realed himself from the hover chair and attacked. His foot connected with his jaw, and his enemy staggered backward, knocking down several of the statues the drone had been cleaning. The impact sent a shock wave of pain from the Tallest's toes to his pelvis, so hard were his mandibles. He hurled his mug at him; which missed, but the flashing front kick didn't. he screamed loudly bending over as pain as air was ripped from his squiddly-spouch. He didn't even have the time to dodge before a vicious kick to his skull slammed into him with such force he could almost hear the music of the apocalypse. He fell back one hand clamped against his oozing head, eyes panicked in his undeniable raw power, speed, and attack precision.

It looked like the fight had gone out of the tcesni. Oh come on, big guy you initated this… don't disappoint me, The Red-eyed Tallest calmly eyed both sides of his attacker's scrawny, quivering neck, where to strike now? The tremulous raluguj, the claw-thick ditorac, or maybe the chest cavit, throwing his system into a fatal misfire? He was interrupted by a sudden bull-charge which was halted by a crushing kick to his face, followed by an attempted thudding by his sharp elbow into his ribs, blocked at the last minute, but was avenged with a neatly executed round-house kick that disrupted a good deal of his target's cartilage, who dropped screaming uncontrollably on the floor.

Rem streaked of the food table and tried to get between the two, but was stomped to the floor, his arms twisted behind him, and tossed at the food table, landing in the nacho, platter. Wiping the artificial cheese from his face, he watched the fight that had turned slaughter, his Purple Tallest was fighting back now, at least but he had to get the authorities. From the looks of things it was doubtful His enemy had managed to stand up on his one good leg a copper green river flowing slowly down his face. The swirl of hatred swelling from his eyes said what his mouth could not: one of them would die this night. That scared him. It wasn't the expression, he had seen it on the face of every son of a gun he'd kicked the old ego out of and that list was impressively long. He never really started fights, his enemies would start the fight, he would defend himself and the creatures would inevitably be truncated, branded with the bloody imprint of his military-issued boot on their beaten heads. It was the who, his best friend, was looking at him that was upsetting him... maybe he should just surr-- the Purple Tallest's claws whipped at his face, a disappointing, feeble thrust. He sent away the offending fingers with a well-aimed kick that broke one of his fingers.

His opponent retreated until his back touched the bar. He didn't look so tall anymore. He was too fast, too skilled his muscle mass meant nothing. He threw another wear punch but it was easily sidestepped. Then he aimed another kick at his abdomen, but he managed to clamp a big hand on his thigh. Reenergized at having finally capturing his elusive quarry, he lifted him up and he was thrown into the food table. He then walked over to the bar and twice smashed him headfirst into the ancient mirror that hung over the demolished food, shattering the glass and maybe his skull too. He then drove a massive knee right into his squiddly-spooch, and then threw him to the other side of the room. His head hit the cool hard floor, his body going into spasms.

His Red-eyes flinched as the size 18 boots slammed next to his head. He was roughly grabbed b the antennae and he was lifted straight up, his limp body a broken yo-yo. He studied him for a few minutes, and lowered his claw, a confused light going into his eyes. His arm moved so fast the purple enema didn't even seem to realize he'd been struck until his brain told him he was in an awful lot of pain. He dropped the red-eyed assailment whose fist connected to his head, knocking a tooth out, hitting him again, liquid spurted from his mouth. The Red-eyed Tallest was revving in for the crusher when the guards blasted the door down, guns out, a

Blue Shield Cerulean-eyed Irken whose uniform identified her as a MRAWS-Rotcerid seemed to be looking for any excuse to start shooting. Finding nothing she ordered the two combatants to the medical wing. Where, for several minutes they stared at each other intermittedly their bodies wrapped up in what looked like tasty mooshminky wrappers and as the medics poked their bodies with instruments.

Then they started

Laughing.

This seriously freaked out the medics, who immediately called in for backup.

The Red-eyed Tallest held a heavily bandaged claw to his battered friend

"Truce." A claw reached out and grabbed his tightly in his own.

"Truce."

The both smiled at one another as the faded into unconsciousness, not expecting to return.

The Tallest's final thought before the Purple-eyed Irken blacked out completely was simple:

I still have to finish my report…

--

"Heavens to Betsy-I've killed the Tallests!"

"No you haven't, stupid earth creature this is only a K+ fic." muttered the voice.

"Anyway some things have just been e-mailed to my attention"

"And mine."

"Yes they're out of character, I purposely made them out of character, because they're under the influence of- oww!( head is thumped by large metallic spider-leg) what was that for?!"

"You were giving away the plot, you had to be stopped."

Power-hungry-jerk…ok…MRAWS-Rotcerid… they're basically something like a field Marshall in Irken military terms. Also-(eyes alien warily) I'll explain more on their purpose, and the presence of the High ranking official later. Tcesni-n: Any Irken being; male, female, or smeet. This can also be used in the plural tense. The liquid I mention, it is not blood. I explain in further chapter.

For any other questions/comments, contact me.

I had to change my original chapter, it was stupid, I didn't like it