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And I'm not done my tenure here
My time's not up, I won't give in
I'll play you at your deadly game
And I'm so strong I'll win
--Excerpt from "On the Cusp," by Ellipsis
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- vengeance -

Ah, a regular day . . . It was such a routine task for him to wake up and go to school, taunt the Dib-human, plan world domination, and then go home to put that plan into effect. Such monotony . . . and yet, with the monotony came normalcy and a sense of security and comfort. Nothing had ever disrupted the balance of his life and he saw to it that nothing ever would. Irkens don't deal well with change, after all.

At its onset, this day was not unlike any other. Having just arrived home from another boring day at "skool," a weary Zim stumbled through the door of his base, slowly peeling off the pieces of his disguise and leaving them randomly on the floor. Thank Irk it's Friday, he thought. He wasn't sure how much more he could take of Ms. Bitters and her doom lectures . . . at least, this time, he felt he'd gotten something out of it for a change.

In an attempt to teach fifth graders science, Ms. Bitters mentioned certain chemicals and carcinogens, going into great detail on some of their effects: from fatal illness and plagues to deadly explosions, when mixed correctly. Zim took notes, the pure interest and curiosity written plainly across his features. Perhaps he could use this information against the humans, possibly create some type of super weapon to aid in the Earth's destruction . . . to put its inhabitants at his mercy. They would make quality slaves for the Irken Empire, he believed. He would make the Tallest proud . . .

"The Tallest!"

How long had it been since he'd reported to the almighty ones? They'd more than likely be interested in his recent discoveries as well as know how utterly close he was to capturing this pathetic filth ball of a planet. Yes, he was so close, he just knew it; so close, he could taste it . . .

He made his way down to the lab, head held high with pride. He sat in his normal computer chair, punched a few keys on the keyboard he always used, and sat back, waiting patiently as the link to his home planet connected, just as it typically did. At 100%, the computer screen flickered as two familiar faces appeared, exhaling their customary groans which, as always, went unnoticed.

"My Tallest," Zim saluted, bowing before his leaders, a naïve grin plastered on his face. "You'll be happy to know that I've come up with an INGENIOUS scheme to conquer this miserable little planet! You see, there are these natural chemicals that—"

He was abruptly cut off by Almighty Tallest Purple, the look on his face obviously disinterested, yet also held some type of concern. "That's . . . wonderful, Zim, really . . ."

"Zim," Red began, then shook his head and looked at his partner. "You tell him."

"Wha..? No, you tell him!"

"You're much more . . . wordier in these . . . wordy-like situation . . . You tell him!"

"You!"

As though they were children, the two Tallest nudged at each other, which quickly progressed to a shoving match as they argued over something that was completely lost on the invader.

Zim watched the entire ordeal unfold on his computer screen, thoroughly baffled by the display his esteemed leaders took part in. "Tell me what . . ?"

Instantly, the bickering stopped. Red and Purple exchanged nervous glances, silently debating something they refused to voice.

The small invader's first thought was that something was wrong on his home planet. His equivalent to a heart began to race, blood pumping rapidly through his veins as many questions popped into his head. Had something bad happened? Had a war broken out? Had a planet under Irken rule been seized? It must be something unfortunate, for his leaders never hesitated like this. Before he had a chance to question the matter again, Purple shattered the silence.

"It's over, Zim."

This wasn't normal. It wasn't normal at all.

"…My Tallest?" His senses were totally dead. His heart seemed to stop as a sudden sense of foreboding washed over him.

Red cut in, shaking his head once again. "Impending Doom II . . . it's all over. Zim, did you know that the other invaders returned months ago? Did you know that the planets they were sent to are now all under Irken rule? Come on . . . you just NOW have an 'INGENIOUS' plan to take over Earth? And exactly how many times have we heard THAT before?"

Zim was perplexed beyond words. "But," he stammered, "I thought . . . a secret mission . . ."

Sighing, Purple brought a claw up and gently massaged his temples. "Just stay there, Zim."

"Stay . . . HERE?"

"Well, if you insist on coming back to Irk," Tallest Purple paused as a shudder racked through his body, then resumed, "become a civilian. Please."

"But—"

"You're not invader material. You never were."

"…You never will be," Red added.

You never will be . . .

The memory of the words cut through him like a knife. Presently, Zim sat behind a table in his underground lab, mulling over that day as a beaker full of cloudy blue liquid boiled over a burner in front of him. Inevitably, his concentration was broken.

"Master," a tiny voice squeaked. Gir appeared at the other side of the table, wide cyan eyes fixated on the bubbling liquid. "It's blue . . ."

A pause.

"I'M GONNA DRINK IT!!"

"GIR, NO!" Zim promptly stood up and pushed the little robot away. "Do not touch that! Go waste your existence in front of the TV!"

Cyan turned to red. "Yes, my lord!"

The alien watched as the defective little SIR unit cart-wheeled into a nearby lift and made its way to the upper levels of the base.

Gently rubbing his eyelids, Zim sighed, wondering why he brought Gir back to Earth with him or why he hadn't dismantled the robot when he'd learned of its imperfect nature. "Another of the Tallest's jokes . . ." he growled, teeth gritted, jaw clenched firmly. He couldn't help but feel some attachment to Gir, though . . . the SIR had been through a lot with him. Gir was almost like his only friend.

Zim shook his head. Such thoughts were weak and pathetic. All that mattered right now was the contents of the beaker and the important role it would play in the near future.

But still . . . he couldn't help think about the two and a half years he'd spent away from Earth, one and a half years of that on time actually spent on Irk due to the distance between worlds. Such wasted time, he mused . . .

Of course he had become a civilian at his leaders' request; far be it from him to show an ounce of disloyalty. It didn't suit him, however, not one bit . . . he felt so out of place. So after the Tallest had given a public speech to the invaders, officially announcing the plans for Impending Doom III, he decided to approach them with the idea of entering the military once more. Even if he had to go so low as begging. After all, it was his destiny to be an invader. Surely his leaders would not deny him his soul reason for being!

Once the Tallest were back in their quarters, Zim was—hesitantly—granted an audience with the leaders. When he came to their door, though, he stopped, listening to the voices that drifted through the space where the door hatch was supposed to meet the cold, metal floor. His breath came out shorter and shorter with each word spoken.

"Heh! Did you see Zim in the audience today? Had his..ahem..SIR with him, too."

A chuckle followed. "Oh, you mean his GIR."

"You think he's figured out by now that I put that thing together out of garbage?"

"He probably still thinks it's advanced!"

"I wouldn't put it beyond him! At least the little smeet doesn't bug us anymore, eh?"

"Yeah, what a pathetic excuse for an invader!"

"…Tch, what a failure as an Irken."

"Failure," Zim echoed bitterly. That was the day he decided to return to Earth. Carefully, he picked up the beaker and poured its contents into several test tubes, then proceeded to refill it and set it over the burner once more. "They're the ones who fail to see that I was MEANT to be an invader. But they'll know . . . I'll prove it to them . . . I'll prove it . . ." His voice was distant, cold, determined, a dead shadow of what it used to be. As he corked the test tubes, he ran the plan over and over again in his mind, never once doubting its outcome.

A menacing grin splayed his features. "I'll win."

- end chapter 3 -