Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Looks like I'll be continuing after all. Just a few notes: Zim is a human at the beginning, and yes, any OOC-ness on his part is intentional. Don't worry- he'll grow into the Zim we know from canon, but it'll be a gradual change.

Warning: hints of child abuse

Disclaimer: I don't own Invader Zim


01: Target

Zim yawned for the third time in class, head drooping onto his hands. Miss Bitters was rambling about doom again, and... doom... the boy could onlyprocess so much in this state. He imagined a pillow under his head. Sore arms struggled to stay upright, one sour hand unable to keep its grip on the pencil. The meticulous notes he usually took were reduced to scrawl today. He hoped Uncle wouldn't make him work another late shift.

"Hey."

He winced, a recollection of last night popping back in. ("Lazy little worm!" Uncle Sizz had growled, covered in sweat and smelling of grease. "Can't even mop a toilet right!") He absently traced a bruise under his eye ("And too short to man the counter. What are you good for anyway?" Uncle had been drinking again). The plates had been too heavy to carry all at once and he had been scuttling back and forth from the kitchen all night. And mind on homework, he tripped along the way. The frycook looked about ready to murder him ("Uncle, I'm sorry! I'll-" "I told you not to call me that in public! You little-"!). Zim shuddered and winced, trying to shrink in on himself. His homework was a mess and the glare Miss Bitters had been shooting him all day was a constant reminder.

"Hey!"

"AH!" Zim shot upright and then slumped back down. It was just Dib. The scythe of hair practically whipped him in the face.

"The bell ran five minutes ago. I thought you were possessed or something," Dib said, pulling Zim from the chair.

"Five minutes... it wasn't that long. You're lying."

"Yeah, sure I am." Dib waited while the other boy gathered his books. "Hmm, your face. Did he-"

"There's nothing wrong with my face. It doesn't hurt at all and I'm completely fine." With that, Zim made his way towards the door, Dib stiffening in the back. It had always been Dib to ask these stupid questions, these stupid annoying questions.

"Hey, wait up!"

Then again, that wasn't fair to Dib. Zim stopped by the door, literally turning a frown upside down. There was very little in the boy's life that made him happy, and Dib was one of them. Dib, who stuck up for him, even when Torque Smacky could break his nose with once punch. Dib, who distracted him from Uncle's loud scolding with chatter of ghosts and werewolves. Dib Membrane, his best and only friend, the one constant in Zim Lorr's life.

"You're coming over tonight, aren't you?" Dib asked, waving a camcorder in his hands, the duo leaving the school at last, "I've got the radio hooked up and everything. We'll definitely catch some UFOs tonight. Oh man, you think Mysterious Mysteries will beat us to it? I mean, I love that show! But we can't let them take our credit-"

Dib, who talked too much.

"I'll try." And Zim, who talked too little.

"Oh come on, that's what you said last week. Don't tell me you'd rather stay home and read the encyclopedia again."

"Eh heh heh."

"Seriously?"

They rounded a corner, narrowly avoiding a squabble of children squishing over them. Zim ran a hand through his dark hair- the truth was he wasn't sure if Uncle would let him off, not after how he messed up last night. He didn't want another beating or another scolding, or both. And he really would like to run over to the Membranes' (again) with his precious encyclopedia.

"I'll have to ask Uncle."

"I'll go with you. Say my dad wants you there."

"Uncle doesn't like you, Dib. He called you the big-headed crazy boy." Said you'd have to be insane to want to be my friend.

"Your uncle really stinks."

"He's covered in grease all day."

"You know what I meant."


TARGET: FOCUS

She watched them from the shadows, optical lenses narrowing in the children walking past. Pressing herself further against the wall, she counted the heartbeats- one, one, two, one, two- human, healthy, young. She observed more- scanning, checking.

The first boy had a sharp projection of black hair, round glasses for myopia, and a trenchcoat that made him seem taller than he was. The head was off-balance. He was waving enthusiastically as he spoke to his companion. She absorbed the words ("tonight," "Gasplugh's," "UFO,") before deleting and deeming them useless. The other boy was thinner, his skin a tanner hue, with slicked black hair and weary violet eyes, in a red button-up. She honed in on him.

As the first boy spoke, the second listened, eyes growing more excited by the second. A spark of hope was inside. It disgusted her.

The small signs of injury she found on him suggested an unhappy domestic life- from the shadowed gait of his walk to the way he clung to the other boy's every word. He looked frail enough. He would be easy to corner. And he would not be missed.

Zim, she mouthed.

TARGET: ACQUIRED


"Oh great, it's that guy again." Dib sighed, narrowing his eyes at the man they spotted digging through Gasplughs' dumpster.

"Who is he?" Zim asked. Oh right, Zim hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Bill yet.

"You remember career day?" Zim nodded. "Yeah, Bill was the paranormal investigator they stuck me with. He was a total crackpot, go figure. All he wanted to do was chase balding men in cereal costumes."

"You chased Bigfoot once."

"That was different- that was real."

The boys stopped talking, transfixed by the fervor that the man showed while diving through the trash, the dumpsters wedged between a pawnshop and Gasplughs fast food diner (complete with large neon signs).

"Hey, Zim. Should you be letting him do this?"

That snapped the other boy out his revelry. Immediately, Zim ran towards the dumpster. "Hey, hey! You! Hey! Hey!"

Bill somersaulted out, landing in a painful position, covered in sandwich wrappers and old grease. He smelled horrible. Both children backed away, ready to cling onto one another for dear life.

"What. Is. It?" the man asked, leering over them, adjusting his shades.

"Uh- uh-" Zim stammered, "you shouldn't be doing that. My uncle-"

"Your uncle will be thanking me when he knows what I've sacrificed!"

"Eh?"

At that, Bill stooped and grabbed Zim by the collar, shaking the boy to and fro. "I can smell it! All the signs- I knew they were in the city, but where, oh where I didn't know- I've tracked, hunted, fought. They're here, so close- and they ate here!"

"Who's they? And let him go!" Dib said, pointing an accusing finger at the 'investigator.'

All that earned was Bill grabbing him by the collar too. "The Irkens! They don't believe me, but they're here, oh they're here alright. What I do is keep them off the streets, so kids like you can keep your organs."

"Irk- what?" Dib asked, flabbergasted.

"Even more dangerous than vampires."

And with that, Bill let the boys tumble to the ground with "oomphs." Casting him one last glare, Dib scurried away after Zim. Yeah, let Mr. Lorr deal with this one. Bill was obviously beyond help. Good thing he wasn't like that.

Once they entered the diner, Dib caught sight of Mr. Lorr- huge, brawny, a scar running through one eye- by the counter, shouting down the neck of a crying teen. Zim ran up to them frantically. "Uncle! There's a man outside, trashing our... trash!"

"About time you got back!" Lorr barked in response, throwing a G hat at Zim. The boy fell backward when it clocked him in the head. "I need you in the kitchen- this isn't Bloaty's!"

With a moan, Zim picked himself up. "Right away, Unc- I mean, boss."

"Hey, Mr. Lorr," Dib found himself saying, coming to stand by Zim, "can Zim come over tonight. My dad-"

Lorr never let him respond. Instead, he left the counter, yanked Dib by the hair and all but threw him out the doors. "NO!" was the man's reply, "can't you see we're busy?"

Well, that settled that. Getting back to his feet, Dib glanced at the diner windows again. From the inside, Zim was waving at him, wearing a standard hat and apron. Dib waved back. They'd have to reschedule.


Zim switched shifts with Deck once the clock signaled eight PM. The teen went into the kitchen, Greg came out to man the counter, and Zim got rid of his greasy goggles to play waiter. Gasplughs only housed eight or nine customers per night, but this week had been particularly busy. Maybe word-of-mouth got the restaurant into good graces, maybe it was the 24/7 quality, or maybe Uncle's coupon books were finally attracting customers.

Luckily, there was no sign of Bill in the diner. If everything was wrapped up by midnight, Uncle would take him home early and hopefully this time, Uncle would let him sit inside the car instead of leaving him to walk. He hadn't messed up at all that night.

"Zim, head to table 9!"

"Yes, boss!"

He recognized the occupant in the booth. His name was Eric, a grubby but nice enough engineer who took his dinner every Tuesday there. Zim ran up to him, ready to scribble down the order.

"Oh hey, Zim. How's school?"

"Fine- we're learning about space. Will you have the usual, Eric?"

At that, the engineer frowned, concentrating and straining to focus. Zim had almost forgotten how slow it took him to order. He was sure Eric would be the reason neither he or Uncle got home before two in the morning.

"Turkey ham pancake."

"Okay. Would you like a drink with that?"

"Ergghh. Uhhhh."

Zim felt his eye twitch.

"Coffee."

"One coffee with extra cream." He didn't bother asking if that really was what Eric wanted. Time was of the essence. He ran back to the counter and passed the note to Greg. Table twelve was waiting for him.

"Welcome to Gasplughs. My name is Zim and-" the words caught in his mouth when he got to the table.

There was only one occupant, a girl only one or two inches taller than him, with porcelain skin and long, thick lashes hidden behind purple liner, soft blue hair framing her face lovingly. She was beautiful. And to his embarrassment, Zim almost stuttered.

"You going to take my order?" she asked in a clipped British accent, "or are you going to stand there all day... Zim?"

"I-I'm sorry. What would you like?"

"I don't know. I'm still looking."

"Oh- okay." He stood over her awkwardly.

As her head dipped back to the menu, he glanced at the book sprawled open. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. The pages looked as if she'd opened them many times.

"That's a good book," he said.

That got her attention. "Yes, it's rather fascinating."

"But it's sad... I think that's what makes it relateable."

Her gaze softened. "Really, now? That makes sense... a Gasplugh burrito and coke. Start me off with that."

He scribbled it down. "Right away."

"Tak."

"Eh?"

"My name is Tak."

"Tak..." the name rolled so easily off his tongue. "I'll get your order put in right away."

He hurriedly left to keep her from seeing the blush creeping over his face, and behind him, the girl smiled, a sinister curving to her lips.


Thanks for reading and please let me know what you thought! And in case anyone's wondering, no, this won't end in ZATR. But Tak is very, very important to the plot.