Work Text:
This is it, this is The One. The invention that will FINALLY make Earth ZIM’S!
It’s ingenious, truly a masterpiece. It’s honestly a disgrace that Zim hadn’t come up with it sooner.
“BUT NO MATTER!” Zim yelled, finally averting his gaze from the beauty of his latest project. “Zim thought of it eventually, and that’s all that matters!”
The project in question was taking up a large portion of Zim’s main laboratory. It towered over the other equipment, an imposing monolith of shiny metal, its polished silver panels gleaming, as if the outward beauty was a reflection of the magnificent goings-on inside of the machine.
“FINALLY! Those disgusting, filthy, putrid STINK-BEASTS will be begging for mercy at the hands of ZIM!”
Zim just stared for a few moments. All of his hard work was finally about to pay off. After spending years living amongst the horrific humans, Zim finally had something to show for his efforts.
“COMPUTER! Bring me a test subject!” Zim barked at the ceiling.
The Computer groaned for an unnecessarily long time before answering.
“Yes, master.”
A moment later, a human test subject was lowered from the ceiling in a glass cylinder.
“Ah, you there! Weird green kid! Would you like to take a moment to talk about our lord and saviour Jesus Chri—”
“SHUT YOUR INSIGNIFICANT HUMAN FACE-HOLE, IDIOT HUMAN… IDIOT!” Zim screeched at the test subject, identified by the label at the base of the tube: Test Subject 034. “COMPUTER! Lower him into… the Machine of Doom™!”
“Right away, sir!”
As Test Subject 034’s tube slid into a gap on the side of the machine, Zim felt the giddy thrum of imminent victory. Soon, the humans would bow before him. They’d crown him Ruler of Earth out of unbridled fear of his power, then beg him for mercy once they realise the extinction of the human race is inevitable, that he could never be swayed by their stupid crowns and titles of power in the first place. The other Invaders would quake at his brilliance, and best of all, the Tallest would gaze down at him with admiration as they watch him begin the Organic Sweep of Earth.
“We had no doubt you could do it, Zim!” they’d say. “You’re the best Invader, Zim. In fact, we feel as though it is only right that we step down as Almighty Tallest and let you take the reins from here on out! You are infinitely better than any other Irken could ever be, after all! What, with your talent in combat, your knowledge of warfare, your tactical skills, and let’s not forget, your unrivaled intelligence—”
“—Sir, are you listening?”
“Heh? What?”
“I said… the Machine of Doom™ just turned the test subject into toast.”
“...Oh.”