Chapter 2

For a second, Zim nearly stopped breathing, even to the point of hopeless distraction by all the emotions running through him that he nearly forgot how to breathe. His heart was pounding so quickly, so loudly, that it was the only sound he heard among the deafening silence.

All the other Irkens surrounding him turned to face him, watching his reaction. Because they knew that the little SIR unit just called was very much cared for by Zim. It had always been that way, and they knew this from quiet observation. From their point of view, Zim's expression was blank and unreadable. But they couldn't see nor hear the utter chaos going on in his mind.

Gir's name stayed on screen. Zim's vision suddenly blurred, and without knowing it, he began to tip to the side, losing balance. Skoodge caught him, grabbing a hold of his arm and calling his name over and over, but Zim didn't hear him. His muscles felt to stiff to stand straight and his squeedly-spooch churned with nausea as he thought of Gir being sent to fight to the death for the entertainment of the cruel Tallest, and of the heartless 'regular' Irkens who would take turns placing their bets on Gir's life. The very thought nearly brought his breakfast up his throat, threatening to make a reappearance. He wanted to speak, to say something, anything, but the shock kept Zim from brining words to his lips.

It wasn't until Zim spotted, through the crowd, the small form of Gir being lead toward the stage by four guards, that Zim came back to the harsh reality of it all. Seeing Gir noticeably frightened, hands at his sides as he took small, hesitant steps toward the stage, reminded Zim that this was all to real. And he knew what he had to do.

He regained control of his muscles as he rushed forward, pushing through the crowd toward the small, hopeless figure of his robot companion. It dawned on him then that his promise to Gir was broken. He had promised him for all these years that they'd be safe, that he would be safe from all of this. And yet there was Gir's name up on the screen, as a reminder of a broken promise.

He broke through the crowd, stumbling out into the clearing between the two ropes that separated the crowd. And there Gir was, still within reach. Zim called his name in a desperate yell, "Gir!"

Startled by the sudden sound of his Master's voice, Gir turned immediately, seeing his Master heading toward him. What was he doing?

Zim rushed forward toward Gir, forgetting the numerous guards that surrounded the crowd, spread out among the courtyard. "Gir!" he called out again, just as two guards stepped forward, grabbing Zim before he could get to Gir. Something inside Zim snapped at that very moment. "No! Gir!" he struggled in their grasp as they threatened to drag him back into the crowd. "GIR!"

Vinam was quite amused by the chaotic scene before him. But it was expected. "Do you wish to take this robot's place?" he asked, expecting the Irken to shrink back and disappear back into the crowd at the thought of going to the Defective Tournament.

But Zim continued to struggle in the grasp of the two guards. "Yes! I volunteer!" Still, the guards didn't let him go. "I volunteer!"

Gir watched his Master struggling to reach him, yelling out that he would volunteer for him. His eyes widened and he himself shrank back. He didn't want his Master to go to the Tournament. He'd rather go than have his Master leave him and possibly never come back.

"Hmmm..." Vinam thought for a moment as he watched the Irken continue to struggle against the two guards. This was a very big surprise indeed. Never before did someone volunteer for someone else, especially not for a meek SIR unit. "You may let him go," he told them. "If he wishes to take the robot's place."

The two guards complied after a moment of hesitation, moving to the side, allowing Zim to run over to Gir. He didn't hesitate to take the robot in his arms, engulfing him in a gentle but firm embrace.

Gir was surprised. His Master rarely hugged him. Still utterly confused and terrified, he hugged his Master back. He enjoyed the affection, and especially needed it now in such a time of confusion and crisis.

Zim didn't care that every Irken and SIR around him was watching this, nor did he care that this was being broadcasted live to all of Irk. All that mattered to him now was the fact that Gir was safe, for good, from the Tournament. He had nearly lost the little robot he had grown to love like a little brother. An obnoxious, sometimes annoying little brother who sometimes got on Zim's nerves, but really, Zim wouldn't have him any other way.

After a moment, Zim pulled back, placing Gir back on the ground, kneeling before him so he could speak to him. To tell him what was happening because it was clear that the little robot had no idea what was going on. "Gir, listen to me. I need you to go back in line, okay? You need to get out of here."

That was when the realization finally hit Gir like a ton of bricks. His Master was leaving. His Master was going to the Tournament. He may not come back, he realized, as tears filled his cyan blue eyes at the thought. "No!" Gir yelled, not moving an inch.

Zim was taken aback. Normally Gir listened to an order and obeyed. "Gir, please-"

"No!" His cries became more shrill and desperate, not wanting Zim to go.

"Gir-"

"NO!"

There was only one way to get Gir to listen, and quite frankly, Zim was losing patience very quickly. "GIR, AS YOUR MASTER I COMMAND YOU TO GET BACK IN LINE!"

It didn't work, and from where Skoodge stood, he could see that. He broke free from the crowd and made his way over to the Irken and the sobbing SIR unit.

Gir clung to Zim, crying, begging him not to go.

Zim swallowed a lump quickly forming in his throat. "Please, Gir," he said quietly. "Just go..."

Luckily Skoodge came up and ripped the SIR unit away from Zim. Gir lost it then, screaming, crying and thrashing around in Skoodge's arms as he was lead away from his beloved Master. "No! NO!"

Zim watched him go, feeling all sadness and anger fading from him. Gir's screams faded as Skoodge took him further and further into the crowd. Zim couldn't feel anything, though the pain in his chest was to much to bare. He stood up and and began to numbly walk toward the stage, with four guards surrounding him.

"Well, this is a very nice surprise," Vinam said, smiling. "Prison 15 has it's first volunteer!"

Tak watched Zim with sympathetic eyes. She would have done the same thing for Mimi. She suddenly admired Zim more than she ever had before. It was very brave, what he did, and she knew that. She could only imagine what he was feeling, because she had felt the same way exactly a year before. Numb. But in Zim's case, he was numb, yes, but also relieved. Relieved that at least his SIR unit was safe. And from the three years she spent with Zim and Gir in their cell, all of them as cellmates before she was sent to the Tournament last year, from quiet observation, she knew how much Zim cared for Gir, as a parent would with a little child, or an older sibling would with a beloved little sibling.

The guards lead Zim onto the stage, toward Vinam, who ushered him forward. Zim spotted Tak in the chair in the corner, meeting her sympathetic gaze. He gulped, his heart pounding in his chest as he took a few slow steps toward Vinam, who grabbed a hold of him and firmly lead him to the microphone.

He turned to Zim, smiling. So far, everything was going according to plan, and if this Tournament went well, then he'd no longer have to work as the Warden. No, he could now get clearance from the Tallest themselves to have first priority as the first choice to become an Elite Soldier; what he always dreamed of ever since he was a young smeet. "What is your name, Irken?"

Avoiding Vinam's gaze and the stares of the crow before him, Zim kept his eyes locked on the floor below his feet. "Zim," he replied quietly.

Vinam already knew this. Part of the plan, he reminded himself. "Well, Zim, congratulations! I take it that was your SIR unit you volunteered for?"

"Yes..." Zim responded quietly, voice barely above a whisper. Where had all his luck gone?

Grinning, Vinam turned toward the crowd. "Everyone, let's give Zim here our utmost respect. How about a round of applause?" His closing statement, like every year. And like every year, the audience would give an applause to the chosen one. It was mandatory and policy.

There was only silence.

Confused, Zim lifted his head slightly, just as a fist rose up into the air from an Irken in the crowd. Then another, and another and another, until every Irken and SIR unit in the crowd held up one fist in the air. Suddenly, they broke out into chanting, all in unison; a chorus of triumph. It was a chant in their native Irken tongue. Three words in Irken that meant, "Victory to us!" They chanted this five times until silence broke the barrier, all fists still raised into the air. This was a gesture usually aimed at the Tallest by the Elites and the Invaders and by all the 'regular' Irken citizens, because they were all programmed at a time to love and honor the Tallest since birth. But for the defects, the biggest betrayal in their lives was having the leaders they loved and honored calling them 'worthless trash'. Defects. So no longer did the defects of Prison 15 honor their Tallest, but instead they honored and admired Zim, their first volunteer. None of them would be so willing to risk their lives for one another, yet there Zim was, risking his life for his trusted SIR unit. It was admirable to them. They would not honor two leaders who took pleasure in watching them suffer, but they would definitely honor an Irken defect willing to risk his life for someone else. The meaning of the gesture was Irken pride, but they, the defects of Prison 15, turned the gesture into meaning 'Defect Pride'.

Zim stared out at the crowd in awe, at every fist raised into the air, for him, he realized. He turned his head to Tak, and noticed she too held her fist up. She smiled lightly at him. He felt a sudden urge of confidence from the crowd, and from Tak. He never felt so... loved before. Admired. It was always his craving when he was an Invader. Now here was the admiration he always wanted, from a crowd of defects like himself.

Vinam however, was scowling. He quickly grabbed Zim and lead him away, off the stage, heading toward the single door on the side of the stage. Tak quickly got up from her chair and followed suit, not wanting a guard to come her way and grab her.

The guards in the courtyard quickly began barking orders at the Irkens in the crowd, yelling at them and ordering them to immediately go back to work.

As Zim was lead to the door, -hearing the orders from the guards toward the crowd to 'get back to work'-, the sudden realization of his current reality dawned on him:

He wouldn't be joining them for work, like he had thought he would earlier.

On the Massive...

Red's glare seemed to intensify as his eyes stayed locked on the television screen before him, watching the familiar form of Prison 15's first volunteer being lead off stage. He tightened his fists at his sides. He was burning with rage at the scene he just witnessed live.

Purple only watched the screen, bored, but noticed the look on Red's face and couldn't help but say, "I honestly don't know what the big deal is..."

"The big deal is the fact that those... Defects just honored Zim as if he were actually worthy enough to be honored!" Red retorted, throwing his empty soda can at the screen in anger. "You know that's not acceptable!"

Purple only shrugged, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth. "It doesn't matter. He won't make it past the first round anyway."

Red's glare was replaced with a smirk. "I'll make sure of that."

The door slammed shut.

Zim glanced around at his current surroundings. The red carpet under his feet, and the soft velvet chair, one of two, which he sat on in front of the metallic silver desk before him. His eyes scanned over the rich interior of Vinam's office, taking in every detail, every framed picture on the walls. He hadn't come across such a rich lifestyle in a very long time. No one in Prison 15 had ever been allowed in Vinam's office, except for the guards and Tak. And now Zim, though he had been there before, but for only three minutes. That was last year. He barely had anytime to have even words come out of his mouth. He hadn't known what to say.

Zim leaned back in the chair, taking in the silence. He hadn't been alone in a long time, either. He was usually in plain sight of everyone, with Skoodge on a work day or with Gir in their cell. But he hadn't been completely alone in a room in years. He took comfort in the silence, still trying to wrap his head around everything that had just happened, and tried to picture what would be ahead for him in the next few hours and days.

They had asked him who were his closest companions in the Prison. To have someone to say goodbye too. That was how he ended up in Vinam's office last year; to say goodbye to Tak. She had requested to see him before she left for the Tournament.

Zim had requested for Gir and Skoodge. Those were the only two companions he ever had in Prison 15. Everyone there usually only hung around, if they were once an Invader-their SIR unit, or their cellmates. When they were out of their cells they didn't hang around or talk to anyone except their cellmates. That was how Zim and Tak knew each other. And Zim had known Gir for fifteen years. Skoodge had been Zim's smeethood friend and they both attended the same Academy to become Invaders.

The door re-opened, startling Zim. He stood up quickly, and for the first time in a while, he smiled as the small figure of Gir ran into the room to say goodbye to him. Behind Gir walked in Skoodge, who seemed visibly upset for his friend. "You have three minutes," the guard who opened the door said harshly, before slamming the door shut.

Zim kneeled down, taking Gir into his arms. He felt so relieved to see him, to at least say a proper goodbye before entering what would certainly be an uncertain future for him. He didn't know if he would live through the Tournament or not, or if he'd even make it through the first round.

He felt Gir's tears soak through his shirt, and, knowing they only had a short amount of time, he pulled back. Zim opened his mouth to say something, to say anything, but no words came to mind. Nothing seemed right about this, and there were no real words to discuss. Seeing the tears stream down the little robot's cheeks, Zim pulled Gir close again, back into the comforting embrace.

"I'm sorry..." Zim said quietly, "I'm so sorry..." Those were the only words that felt right, and they escaped him before he could even fully register them, or their meaning. The broken promise, he remembered. "I said you'd be safe from being chosen, and I was wrong. I was wrong, I was wrong..." His voice cracked. Zim seemed to nearly break right there. He blinked back his own tears. The first real taste of hard emotion he felt in his whole life. He never felt so regretful for breaking the promise he made to Gir, never felt so distressed about nearly losing the little robot when his name was called, and never felt so nervous about what was to come for himself in the next few days. If he'd be dead or alive.

"Just try to win," Gir whimpered in response.

Zim's throat tightened. "I will," he promised, the pain in his voice clearly palpable. "You're just going to have to tough it out while I'm gone." Zim pulled away from Gir. "Can you do that for me?"

Despite the tears, Gir nodded.

And despite his pain, Zim smiled, though weakly. "Good." He glanced up at Skoodge, who stood behind Gir. Zim stood up, taking a few steps toward his smeethood friend. "Please take care of Gir for me if I don't come back," he said quietly, making sure Gir wouldn't hear his words and panic far worse than he had before.

Skoodge could see the pain in Zim's eyes, and the tears that he was trying so hard to hold back. He only nodded. "Of course." Skoodge formed a fist and held it out before him.

At the sight, Zim chuckled, despite the tears stinging his eyes. He formed a fist of his own and bumped it against Skoodge's fist. Their trade-mark from their teen years. Zim was still smiling, feeling a bit better, though he felt a tear form and fall down his cheek. He wasn't sure why, but he was going to miss the old life. It was the only life he really had that wasn't built around a fake and programmed outlook on emotions and life, such as the life of an Invader he had sought out for the longest time before being sent to Prison 15.

The door re-opened, and the guard from before walked in. "Times up," he said.

Skoodge only sighed, turning toward Gir. He walked toward the little robot who calmed down a bit, though still had a few remaining tears left. He ushered Gir out of the room.

Gir turned and got once last look at his Master, who only watched him go with a noticeably pained expression. Gir stopped walking for a moment to stare at Zim.

Skoodge noticed this, sighing once more. "Come on, Gir," he said, pushing Gir gently along toward the door.

Sniffling, Gir nodded once. "Bye Master," he said quietly, turning and walking with small, hesitant steps out the door, with Skoodge following close behind.

The door slammed shut once more.

"Bye, Gir..." Zim replied softly, though he was all alone in the room once again. He stood there in silence, staring at the door, hoping Gir would come back, but Zim knew he wouldn't. He wished the guard let them have more time to say goodbye. Three minutes just wasn't enough.

The door opened again, much to Zim's surprise, and once he realized who it was, he rushed forward, toward the figure standing at the door.

Tak was shocked at the sudden embrace Zim engulfed her in nearly a second after she came into Vinam's office. She hadn't seen Zim in a year, and was now his mentor. And now here Zim was, in the position she was in the year before. Nervous, unsure, frightened... Tak had survived, and she would make sure Zim would survive as well.

"I missed you," he said quietly, tightening his hold around her.

Honestly, Tak thought Zim had forgotten about her, or was angry with her for never coming back like she had promised. But she wasn't allowed to come back to Prison 15 after she won the Tournament. Well, the rule was that she wasn't allowed to see the Prisoners, which obviously included Zim. She had missed him, too, especially when she had left for the Tournament and never came back. "I missed you too," she replied, cheeks burning slightly. She pushed the feeling down, reminding herself there were just friends and that their words were nothing more than meaning two friends who missed each other. Just friends.

After a few minuets, they pulled back. Zim smiled a bit at her. "How is the winner's life treating you?"

She caught the sarcasm in his voice, because she knew that he knew that the lifestyle of the winner of the Tournament was something she was defiantly not fond of. At all. "Wish it were better," she admitted, chuckling. "Especially since I'm surrounded by stuck-up snobs every day. It was never like that here."

"But I'm guessing the food is great, huh?" he joked.

This made her smile widen. "That's the only upside. It's much better than the cold stew."

Zim chuckled. Tak remembered how much Zim hated the cold stew. "I bet it is..." he paused, remembering his current predicament. Seeing Tak and holding her close again caused him to nearly forget everything that had happened at the Choosing Day ceremony. And then joking with her again like before, like when they were cellmates... It was like a dream. But all dreams came to an end at some point, and he found that his was already over, despite the fact his old cellmate and friend was standing before him after a year of being gone.

Now he was at a loss for words again. He blurted out the only thing that came to mind, "Am I going to be okay?"

Tak frowned. No, she thought to herself. Not when you win. When you win the Tournament, the winner is constantly locked up in their mind, stuck in an inescapable prison with the faces of the fallen contenders, especially the ones the winner had to fight and kill in order to survive and win. This was a nightly occurrence to Tak. In her darkest nightmares, she saw only blood and horror, the crowds cheering for the killer, and the faces of the four defected Irkens she had to kill in order to stay alive. If Zim won, the same thing would happened to him. The mental torture. The trauma.

"You'll be fine," she lied, smiling reassuringly at him. Because, in reality, she didn't know what would happen to Zim five days from now. Or what would happen in a year, or years from now.

She would just have to wait and see.

A/N: I need eleven more Irken or SIR OCs!

Anyway, I wanted to update. I don't have much to say. XD

The next time I update I will be 17, because my birthday is tomorrow! :D I've been on for FIVE years! Holy CRAP. I will admit: compared to my older writings, I've defiantly grown as a writer JUST a little bit. I guess. XD

I dunno... Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! Please review! :)