Operation: Incentive - Invader Zim fanfic (ZADF)

Trials and Error.

Zim returned to his home base in glory, knowing exactly what he had to do.

Swinging open his front door, he ignored the joyful crowing of the Parent Bots and headed straight to his toilet lab entrance. He put his legs in the basin and flushed himself, for want of a better word.

Upon arrival in his lab, he caught sight of a roast chicken in the corner.

"GIR! Prepare the surgical knives and boot up the parasite machine, but make sure you clean it out. We've got a job to do," he commanded.

Suddenly, but not unexpectedly, the roast chicken swelled and burst, with little chicken pieces landing all over the room.

"It's ME!" giggled Gir. "I was the chicken all along!"

Zim sighed. It was funny the first time with the turkey, but the quirky little bot didn't seem to know when to stop. He took no notice of the comment, but instead stared at Gir.

"Well?" he exhaled.

"Yes, Master!" replied Gir with a swift salute, and he ran off to fulfill his master's wishes. 

Zim nodded contently, arms crossed, and walked over to the fireplace he had recently installed in his lab. As stupid the Urthlings may be, they definetely knew how to indulge in little pleasures. On Irk, fire was just considered a weapon. Zim prised his Evil Plans book out of his little bag and promptly threw it in the fire. He wouldn't need it anymore. This plan would work. It had to. 

Dib would be spared, in a way. He would be a great prize for the Tallest, perhaps a greater prize than Urth itself. But Dib's humanity had to be stripped away.

Gir returned, maybe a minute later, maybe an hour later, Zim couldn't tell. The tasks assigned were done, albeit rather half-baked. Alas, he thought, they shall suffice.

He rattled off some more errands for Gir to run, but the unit started to lose interest halfway through. Zim was exhausted at this point, didn't the Irken Armada's best Invader deserve some rest? But he scribbled a rough list of the jobs, and handed it roughly to Gir.

"Here," he said, "Finish all these, and I'll take you to get tacos."

"TACOOOOOOS!" Gir wailed, as a kind of war cry, and once again ran off, reciting a list of his favorite tacos.

Zim was pleased with the result, and so turned to his computer.

"Computer," he started. "We've got a job to do." 

The project took longer than Zim had expected. His flesh, blood, tears, toil and sweat had all gone into this: a tiny red vial. It shimmered and sizzled gently under the cold, artificial lights of the Irken laboratory. This would be the saving grace; Invader Zim's greatest success. 

That's me, Zim thought to himself smugly. Breaking the boundaries of science everyday, as one does.

All he had to do was administer it; and of course prepare for what it was going to do. Ever the Invader, he folded his arms behind his back and marched towards the mechanics room in an orderly fashion. 
"Gir. Is the new Voot cruiser done?"

Gir let out several shrieks and wails that Zim interpreted as a yes, so he walked on. 

This had to work.

It had to.