Operation: Incentive - Invader Zim fanfic (ZADF)

Implementation.

Zim slid the tiny red vial into an injecting device: one he was particularly fond of. It was from his time as a scientist on Vort Research Station 9, a gift from Tallest Miyuki before her death, WHICH WAS NOT HIS FAULT. It was a dear item, and he found it fitting to use for such a great plan. 

It was going to be perfect. It had to be.

He went through his mental checklist one last time. Vial? Check. Disguise? Check. Numbing cream? Check. Mini drone? Check. He was ready. 

"Gir, I'm going out. Operation: Incentives is a-go!" he called out triumphantly, before slamming the door to the base behind him. It was dark out, and all the streetlights were on. He stopped for a second to slap away a moth, but he walked on, his mind full of excitement, buzzing like a thousand bees. He was so proud of himself. This plan was going to work! How could it not; it was pure genius! He, Invader Zim, was to be hailed as a prodigy of Irkenkind!

He tried to calm himself down a little - maybe it wouldn't work? - but he didn't believe himself. 

After what seemed like decades, he reached the Membrane household. It was well protected, and the security system was far more advanced than anything else on Urth, yet it was child's play for an Irken like him. Zim scaled a wall, nifty but silent. He perched on the windowsill like a crow, debating whether to send his drone in first for surveillance. In the end, he risked a peek. The Dib's lights were still on; he had fallen asleep at his table! Zim pulled the window up a bit too fast, and it creaked menacingly, but there was no sign that anyone had heard him. He put a tentative hand into enemy territory. Nothing happened. He let out a sigh. No traps. This was going to be even easier than he thought!

Zim shimmied through the window and strode over to Dib. His desk was full of crudely drawn images of Zim, and many Irken X-Rays that he presumably drew himself. Zim held a grudging respect for his arch nemesis, for many of the guesses he made were correct.

This boy was an Urthen prodigy, he had to admit.

Zim searched through all the papers and extracted those he thought might bring him personal danger. The notes on Irken biology had to go. So did the script on SIR units. Even the writings about PAKs, Dib somehow knew a scary amount about them.He took them and ripped them into halves, then quarters, then eighths. He stuffed the pieces into the Dib-Worm's lampshade and looked to the problem at hand. Dib's neck was covered by the trenchcoat he always wore. A minor complication, easily fixed. Zim pulled the soft collar off his neck and spread some cold numbing cream in small circles.

The numbing should take effect soon, he thought, and violently stabbed Dib in the neck.