Chapter 4

Zim admired his countenance in the mirror, the dark black cape adorning his shoulders swinging behind him as he turned. The light caught its ripples, painting glittery crimson streaks up and down the length. Deep, red eyes flashed back at him, the fire that lurked beyond them waiting for an outlet. The Irken grinned, mocking his own reflection.

Long ago a child had lain on the cold tile, nutritious ooze squishing around his fragile green body. Immediately, he was tended to by the robot nurses and arms that swept around the room waiting for others to hatch. His tiny eyes blinked open and suddenly there was pain. Horrible drilling pain rushing up and down his spine. He would have screamed aloud had he been able to breathe... And then it stopped, a tiny robot withdrawing a pair of sharp instruments dripping with fluid from his back.

Zim fingered those two holes now as his backpack detached and fell to the floor. The permanent scars inside felt like shrill reminders of his early years.

Zim stood back to back with another Irken child outside of the learning pods as a crowd of other aliens gathered around. Carefully, one of the boys lined a yardstick up between the two.

"Zim's cheating, you can't count your antennae," someone remarked. Zim grumbled and let his antennae fall flat, perturbed that he'd been caught.

"Alright...I've got it lined up," the kid with the yardstick announced. Zim bit his lip. He willed himself to be taller; he grabbed his spiritual self by the neck and forced himself to be taller.

"Yup, Greb is definitely taller."

The crowd began to laugh as Greb stepped aside and put his hands on his hips, giving Zim a triumphant sneer.

"I heard the shorter you are the stupider you are," he laughed.

"Ew, don't touch him, you might catch his shortness!" somebody else chimed in.

Zim cringed; one tiny gloved hand held up in protest against the bunch of giggling Irken girls and the vicious looking Irken boys.

"Shut up, you fools," he growled in a low voice. Nobody was even paying attention to him anymore, and they all were dispersing since the fun was over. "I'll...be...greater," Zim said softly, his hand balling into a fist as he turned away.

And greater he was. But taller he wasn't. For all his glory as ruler of the Earth, the filthy beast by the name of Greb still had him beat in the most important area of all on Irk. Seething with a sudden rush of anger, Zim tore away from the mirror and headed towards his desk like a missile heading towards an innocent town. His face mirrored the expression he had worn when his first mate-interest had dropped a pretty big bomb on him.

"I hate you."

Zim had trouble controlling his breathing, his antennae flattened to his head in rage. "What do you mean?" he choked.

"I said I hate you, Zim!"

Her voice was a high screech, her tender body shaking with rage. Zim had never been able to take his gaze off of her lovely purple eyes... But now, they were so flattened with anger that he could barley see their deeply buried irises.

"What reason in all of the Irken empire would you have to hate me?" he spat, striking a rather gallant pose.

"You ruined my life!"

"How?!" He could see her sobbing now, her wonderfully curly antennae bobbing gently. He longed to put an arm around her shoulder and tell her that he swore by his squeedily-spooch that he would never hurt her. But considering how angry she was, he might get his arm ripped off before he could say a word.

"Zim... I liked you a lot... and it was fun while it lasted... but you're jeopardizing my social reputation." She sighed and then continued, "Someone called me a midget- lover today... I'm really sorry Zim... But we can't be together anymore."

Shards of glass exploded inside Zim's head. He was silent for a long time, long enough for her to approach him tentatively. And that was when he shouted so loudly she fell to the floor and cringed at his feet.

"You're SORRY? How cute, yes indeed, she's sorry... Oh but Zim, we can't be together! You're a midget," he mocked, grinding his teeth and glaring down at her as if she were only a flea deserving of a fatal crush from his boot. He held up one hand and pointed at her menacingly.>

"What tallness I lack I will make up in victory." And then he had gone, leaving her all alone to cry in her dimly lit room.

By now, Zim had entered a four-digit code into the pad bolted to a desk drawer, and it was cycling open slowly. The Irken's eyes grew bigger with anticipation, his fingers twitching longingly. What lay inside was, by far, Zim's favorite weapon. He reached into the drawer and gently lifted a small, carved handle that fit exactly to the proportions of his palm. It slid easily into a predetermined grip, Zim's mouth widening into a grin that revealed a row of zipper-like teeth.

'The Doom-Bringer' had been especially designed for him at the height of his take-over. He'd threatened many a rebellion at the head of his clones, the Doom-Bringer held high. Intricate machinery inside the handle produced a concentrated beam of light when the button was pushed. The light formed a cutlass-like shape and shimmered in and out as it was waved. A most dangerous weapon, indeed. And yet, its perfect green blade had yet to be stained with blood. Zim really hadn't had a need to actually use it, as his men in battle always protected him. But perhaps today it would touch flesh.

Unbeknownst to him, a Keef guard lay against the wall outside his office, its eyes gone blank in unconsciousness. Beside him, Gaz crouched, her ear pressed to the wall. Most of what she had heard was those memories Zim had mumbled aloud... She hesitated slightly as Zim left through another exit, and then stalked into his office. Gaz had a plan she needed to execute, but she...was distracted... Memories from their small and often insulting talks at the end of his desk nudged at her... She had no wish to remember such things but they continued to plague for a while as she stood in the middle of his office...and thought...