MiMi brought the scalpel down upon Zim's stomach muscles, and the Irken screamed in pain. Purple blood sprayed the SIR Unit in the face, while Zim twisted about helplessly, victim to the robot's vile pleasures. MiMi slashed again, this time slicing into the core of Zim's squeedlyspooch. Blood spurted, quickly losing force and beginning to pool underneath where the Invader was trussed up.

"Mistress always wondered if you had a brain. Shall we find out for sure?" MiMi grinned ferally, then slashed the Irken's sensitive antennae apart. Reduced to half of their original length, the organs screamed their white hot pain in their owner's Pak. With an efficient slice, MiMi had cut the Irken's scalp away, revealing wet bone. A couple of crunches, more pain and suffering, and soon Zim's meat brain was exposed. The SIR Unit studied the helpless Irken with mock surprise.

"Well, what do we have here? A brain? I wonder if it functions properly..." Zim squeezed his eyes closed, anticipating the cold sting of the scalpel plunging into his meat brain. After a minute or two, though, MiMi turned her attention back to the Irken's body cavity. The squeedlyspooch still pulsated, the heart still beating in time with Zim's fear.

"No, I won't kill you so quickly. I want you to suffer for all the years Mistress spent alone and helpless in that escape pod." She smirked as Zim quailed under her lifeless stare. "I want you to feel the shame and pain of being a victim, just like she was..." MiMi began slashing at the Invader's supraorgan, cutting more or less randomly. The blows were only to inflict pain, not death, but small chunks of Irken meat and blood flew as MiMi attacked Zim's body with hatred.

After a time, in which Zim felt nothing but burning agony and even hotter shame, MiMi stopped. Heaving with the pain, Zim managed to get a sentence through his damaged body and out into the air of the torture room.

"What...are you...planning...now...?"

MiMi affected shock. "Planning? Oh, no, I haven't been planning anything! This is all just mere whimsy!" She cackled. "Surely you knew that, my dear Zim! Maybe I should take a few more shreds from your body. A true robot never wastes, after all!" Taking the scalpel harder in her hand, the gore soiled SIR Unit began to flay strips of muscle and skin from Zim's still living body. She carefully arranged the strips of Irken body meat on another medical cart.

"There, that should be enough. Now, I think it's time I had a little fun. Don't you agree, Zim?" The Irken paled, partially from blood loss but mostly from stark, gibbering terror. His eyes widened to their fullest, his zipperlike teeth bared in a reflexive gesture to intimidate. MiMi, though, was not impressed by the Invader's instinctive reflexes.

Humming a tune, she dropped the scalpel in the large pool of violet blood that had pooled beneath the Irken's pain filled body. With her left index finger, MiMi traced a shallow series of cuts upon Zim's still beating heart. Tracing carefully, she soon had a perfect replica of the Empire's corporate logo cut into the cardiac organ. The Lensbot moved in, capturing MiMi's artistic flair for a full five minutes. As the robotic camcorder moved back into place, MiMi grasped the heart loosely in her clawed right hand. She smiled as she held Zim's heart, his fate, in her hand.

"How much pain do you feel, Zim? Do you feel the agony at all? Is it too much for you?" The Invader nodded weakly, in far too much pain to speak. MiMi grinned, this time with a mix of hate and pleasure.

"Such a weak Irken! And to think they made you an Invader!" MiMi tutted condescendingly. "Mistress would have been stronger than you. I think I will show you the true meaning of pain beyond Irken comprehension!" With those words, the SIR Unit squeezed the heart fiercely. Blood sprayed uncontrollably, splashing MiMi's body with a purple coat of foetid death. Zim howled, the pain too much for him to handle.

MiMi let go of the abused and nearly dead heart. She had no worries, for her computer would fix the damage before the organ's failure could kill Zim. No, she had other plans for him. All the torture, the pain of the victim and the pleasure of the victimiser, was merely a distraction while GIR fetched the miserable human that caused the SIR Unit's downfall.

MiMi placed the bloody, gore soiled scalpel back on a medical tray. She smiled as the mechanical tendrils holding Zim threw him into a healing tank. The tank's computer reported severe injuries, potentially fatal, but ones that could be repaired given enough time. Zim would survive, and that was what scared the Invader most of all. MiMi left the room, seeking to take a long, cleansing shower...and to submit her footage to the Tallest as the greatest home video in Irken history...