A Parade of Indignities

Chapter 2: Of Good Impressions and the Importance of Being Zim

Chapter art created and owned by CozyMochi.

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As soon as Conventia materialized ahead, Zim regained full control of his ship.

GIR darted around him, overjoyed at the prospect of leaving the ship after being forced to sit in the tiny cabin for the better part of three days.

Zim approached the planet and prepared to land in the docking ring, eying row upon row of parked ships in search of an open spot. He clenched his jaw while GIR yammered on in his antenna, trying to focus.

Shortly after claiming Tak's ship and seeing firsthand the various feats of Irken engineering, Dib had made a mockery of Zim's own admittedly obsolete ship. He once compared the Voot Runner to Earth's automobiles. He likened it to the equivalent of an old, crappy hand-me-down Honda Civic. Dib had laughed so hard, tears sprung in his eyes and his glasses fogged over. Zim had been, and still was, unamused by this little comment. As it was, he only really had a loose understanding of his enemy's insults anyhow.

Be that as it may, the memory still jumped into Zim's mind as his eyes passed over the shiny new display of Spittle Runners, Shuvvers, and Ring Cutters.

He parked beside a rather sleek looking Shuvver and stood up from his chair, stretching his cramped limbs. GIR observed this for

a moment and began doing yoga poses beside him. Then, the two gathered their materials and headed towards the teleporters that would take them to the planet's surface.

It was only once they had made their way to the entrance of the designated building did Zim and GIR pause. Zim clutched the handle of his carrycase tightly in one hand. The case, emblazoned with the invader insignia, held his disguise, notes on the indigenous lifeforms of Earth, and holographic schematics for his latest plan at conquering it. In his other hand was the invitation he had received. Addressed to Irken Invader Zim, it read:

The Almighty Tallest have required the attendance of all invader-class Irken elites for the yearly progress convention, to be held in room 768B. There, all invaders will gather to discuss their findings regarding Operation Impending Doom II and report in to the Tallest in person. Failure to comply will result in incarceration and possible re-encoding.

Short, threatening, and curt. Much like the Irken race in general.

Taking inventory of these items, he walked inside.

Just past the x-rays and security kiosk, a large Irken guard approached him. He was much taller than Zim, and somewhat wider as well, though his girth was exacerbated by the sheer amount of armor he wore. His collar covered his mouth, leaving only narrowed amethyst eyes to emote with.

"Your SIR unit will be taken for routine maintenance. The conference room is down the hall on your left." He spat these words with disdain, as though he felt it was beneath him to be associating with Zim.

Zim was blithely unaware as usual, instead trying to wrestle GIR away from his leg. The robot had latched onto him firmly, apparently distraught at the idea of basic maintenance.

The beefy guard coldly reached out his claws and yanked GIR away by the antenna before turning away without another word down the hall.

GIR, in an abrupt change of heart, waved pleasantly to Zim as he was carted off.

Zim stared at them as they rounded the corner, mildly taken aback by GIR's sudden and unceremonious departure. Then, without another thought, he turned and headed in the direction the guard had pointed him towards.