Outcasts (Zim x Irken!Reader x Dib)

Chapter 1: Flight

From the Perspective of Our Newly Recruited Irken Soldier.

   

     My assignment is simple. I arrive on "Earth", uproot their leadership, and become the new supreme overlord. Or demolish the miserable little rock. Whatever I happen to be feeling that day, I suppose. Invader ZIM attempted this mission once before me. His "mission" was fake, of course. ZIM was just sent to Earth so that he would be out of the Tallest's hair. As a real soldier, I've been trusted to truly make something of myself.

Unlike ZIM, I have a real SIR unit to assist me. My ship is rather outdated but still gets the job done. It's an old purple Voot Cruiser with several bumper stickers slapped on the back. It appears to have been modified throughout the years as the windows are tinted and there are several smaller engines haphazardly installed near the original larger ones. Tacky. There's a lot of empty storage space and an overhead cabin where spare mechanical pieces and wires are stored, along with some old instruction manuals.

I mutter to myself as I search through a compartment. "Keep calm, keep calm. Ugh! Where is that thing?"

"Over here, master." My SIR unit dutifully responds. I fling open a drawer. Aha! My digital logbook. Meant to be used for mission updates but I personally enjoy using it as my journal. I begin to run diagnostics.

"Computer! Scan for debris buildup." My voice echoes throughout the ship. After a few seconds, there's a chime from my computer. The words "NO DEBRIS DETECTED - VENT CLEAR" scroll past the monitor as they are recited out loud. I continue to run diagnostics on every nook and cranny of my ship, finishing with a deep sigh. A few months out on my flight and I feel like I'm going insane.

Aren't we supposed to be good at this? Menial tasks over and over. Maybe I'm even more flawed than I imagined. After that incident during training where I blew up a whole ship, I never thought I'd get a spot as an Invader. At least I wasn't sentenced to eternity in Foodcourtia. I shiver. Nevertheless, I continue my long pattern. Run diagnostics, log data, stop at a skeezy rest stop planet, research Earth.

Earth!

Such an insignificant world...

Nobody cares about it.

But it's going to be mine.

I become giddy when I think of it.

In my research I have found that humans have many unorthodox practices. "Love" and "Parental Units" are two examples. I am all too familiar with the "Snack", however, as it is what my Tallests love. They are constantly stuffing their faces with that greasy and sugary junk. I enjoy the occasional sandwich, but the way they eat is frankly disgusting. They eat like little worm babies. Please don't tell them I said that.

I start to giggle.

I slap my hand over my mouth.

My computer breaks the silence that follows.

"Twenty miles out, y/n." It is softer this time compared to when it fulfills a pre-programmed duty. Very interesting.

"Thank you, Computer." I sigh again. I'm close, so very close. All my failures and successes rush through my head and my fingers are knotted together with anxiety. All these years of training, conditioning, and working my squeedlyspooch off at the academy are about to reach their pinnacle

. . .

As I approach Earth, a sudden jolt breaks my train of thought. The engines of my ship sputter to a stop as I frantically flail my arms around the control board in search of the emergency button. Emergency mode doesn't do much to stop the free fall, however, as my ship continues to hurdle towards Earth's surface.

A safety harness locks over my body. I tightly grip my SIR unit and do the only thing I can do: Scream.

PERSONAL LOG NUMBER ONE:

I'm very curious of what exactly happened to Invader ZIM. Is he dead? Alive? Maybe he really did conquer Earth. As far as I know he's a total failure and annoyance. Pathetic, but he's the one that left me an opening. It's a little embarrassing to take his place. I know the Tallest put me in this spot because I am a low-class soldier, but I can assure you that ZIM is still beneath me. So short. I don't intend on making contact with the being, for it is unnecessary. It would be disgraceful to speak to such a cretin.