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Capax Infiniti	By : IJX Category: +G through L > Invader Zim > AU/AR-Alternate Universe-Alternate Reality Views: 2626 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Invader Zim, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Capax Infiniti
A/N: This is hosted on AFF because it will, over time, contain explicit adult themes and scenes. Nevertheless, sexual encounters are merely a piece of the story, not the point of it. The actual purpose of this piece is to force Zim to refine his approach to the OID:II mission and develop a greater sense of self-awareness in the process. It's thus far intended to be both a Zim character study and an action/drama piece.
Also, I've taken some poetic license with regard to Zim's height. For the purposes of this story, indeed he is incredibly short relative to other Irkens but not the child-sized height from the series. This is probably the one major deviation from canon at this point.
Questions and comments are always welcome.
Disclaimer: Invader Zim and its characters are, of course, property of Jhonen Vasquez and his fantastic production team. Any resemblance my original characters might bear to real individuals is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1
The pounding rush of his Irken blood as it raced to his limbs, powering his body forward, mirrored the clack of Zim’s boots against the pavement. He could hear his pursuers behind him, but he dared not risk a glance in their direction. Even the smallest interruption in his escape could cost him the invaluable variable of time.
Evading Dib’s attempts at exposing him had been not only successful but a mere youngster’s game. A joke. He derived some modicum of joy out of seeing the human spend the better part of a decade struggling to expose him. Naturally, the mere suggestion that such an insubstantial creature from this pathetically ignorant planet could thwart him, the great Invader Zim of Irk, was an amusement that served only to ease the monotonous boredom of reconnaissance work.
Now the time for jest and jokes even in the least eventful of moments had passed. Zim had been spotted without his disguise by what he discerned to be military agents, tipped off by some despicable anonymous informant, and now he tried desperately to elude them. He seriously considered the possibility that Dib could be the catalyst behind their discovery, but the idea was ultimately dismissed. Dib had sufficient time to disrobe him of his privacy over the many years Zim spent infiltrating their society. The overenthusiastic young paranormal researcher’s constant and irritating presence in his life was evidence enough of his incompetence; any worthy opponent would have posed a greater threat given such prolonged contact.
Dib’s reputation as a paranormal zealot began to precede him as he grew into a young man, obsessed with his mysterious mysteries or... whatever. He was deluded, believing his influence within his paranormal organization posed a real threat to Zim’s noble cause. Dib was no more menacing to Zim than the ancient crone of a teacher from the first years on Earth he spent disguised as a child in a classroom. Of course, that infantile disguise was a temporary approach to what ultimately became a long-term and labyrinthine reconnaissance mission. He was inching closer to victory as he worked his way through intelligence on Earth’s highest government agencies and military forces, but there was still much left to learn if his invasion was to be a flawless success.
Flawless indeed. Given enough time and privacy to chart the course of his incursion, it would be, without question, the most elegantly immaculate invasion in Irken history. Enough, perhaps, even to elevate his status regardless of stature and redeem him in the eyes of the Almighty Tallest. He feigned flippancy with regard to his previous banishment, but in truth it stung his pride profoundly and had sullied his reputation into utter ruin. The wretched Fast Food Drone programming of his invaluable PAK in lieu of his rightful Invader status was a constant bitter reminder. He had no choice but to correct the past foolishness which besmeared his name by bringing home to Irk what would be a most beautiful victory. Indeed it would bring him great pleasure to rain death and destruction down upon the humans, these creatures whose disgusting displays of cultural self-flagellation had left him just itching to put them in their place.
Now that his success was so close he could almost feel a ghost of its presence preceding it, he had made this one dreadful mistake that could easily lead to his downfall. He knew that they could not afford any further disruption; he had fallen desperately behind in his mission and they had consistently and constantly risked exposure. Thus, Zim had been a fool to follow GIR as his imbecile companion slipped out of their headquarters at night, chasing after a small Earth animal with his characteristically moronic enthusiasm.
“I’mma pet the bunny! Hee hee heeeeeeee! Bye!”
“GIR! No, get BACK here!!”
Despite Zim’s frequent irritation over GIR’s manic fits, he admitted only to himself that he had developed a kind of odd if distant affection for the robot over their years spent on Earth. GIR proved himself useful and loyal in the most dire of circumstances despite his flaws, and that was enough to keep him around.
Tonight, his tolerance for GIR’s flighty behavior and Zim’s own haughty arrogance caught up with him. They had been waiting for him. Zim found Earth films’ tendency to portray government agencies as stoic “Men in Black” humorously moronic. As though any serious threat to a sophisticated race like the Irken would consist of these transparently stiff caricatures in dark suits and sunglasses. Hah. No, the real thing was almost as undetectable as Zim himself these days, or at least since he decided to refine his disguise. He grudgingly admitted that these foes were fairly formidable, even if not as subtle or intelligent as Zim himself. After all, he had grown into a capable Irken warrior.
Nevertheless, he was a fool. A fool to believe that they would be safe, that no one would dare monitor his headquarters at 3:00 AM, that there was no way there would still be blind spots in his preliminary detection system despite frequent fine tuning. These things did not cross Zim’s mind as GIR chased his little furry friend across the front lawn. GIR, without his canine disguise, fled across the street in hot pursuit of the object of his affection, tinny giggles filling the previously silent night air, metallic feet clanging against the pavement.
“GIR!” Zim hissed out his words, not wanting to wake the entire neighborhood and alert them to their activities. “OBEY me! Return at once!”
Zim believed that it would take no more than five minutes at most to drag GIR unwillingly back into the “house” for a stern reprimand. He had intended to rush outside, grab GIR and thrust him back into their lair. It was the dead of night and his simpleton neighbors would be blissfully ignorant in their drooling slumber. It was not GIR’s mania but Zim’s own blind hubris that had exposed him. As the quiet click of two guns cocking echoed across the street and the bright beam of a flashlight suddenly flooded his sensitive vision, he raised his gloved arm to shield his red eyes. At once he understood what was happening and cursed himself for his foolishness.
Zim wasted no time. He turned around, intent on returning to his headquarters a mere hundred feet behind him so that he could access his myriad Irken resources beneath the surface. Unfortunately, two of his human aggressors stood between him and his sanctuary; if he wished to call no attention to himself, he had no choice but to run.
Zim thanked the gods for small favors in the form of the shadowy cover of night. Few humans scampered in the streets in these wee hours of the morning and the darkness provided endless black nooks and crannies into which he could duck in an attempt to evade the military agents. Were he to successfully lose them, he knew he would have to call upon GIR to send the Voot Cruiser to him and could only hope his servant would pull himself together long enough to see them through this unfortunately dire situation. He dared not burden himself with thoughts of how well GIR might be holding up in the face of the agents who had inevitably stayed behind to infiltrate his home. Zim’s attention must be focused on evading the humans on his tail.
And so he ran. He ran tirelessly, darting behind buildings, turning sharp corners and sliding into narrow passageways that his lithe Irken body could maneuver far better than the large male humans behind him. So far so good, but he could only manage this level of physical strain for so long and the humans appeared not to be falling as far behind as he would have liked. He had to find some way to lose them and some place to hide.
“STOP!” one of the men shouted, his voice too close for comfort. “You will not be harmed!”
“Heh. Bullshit,” Zim muttered. He risked electronic detection and grabbed the communication piece as it emerged from his PAK. “GIR!”
“Yes, master!” the tinny voice replied in a delightfully cheerful tone.
“I need you to track my location while I’m on the move and send the Voot Cruiser to me. Keep the humans from infiltrating headquarters for as long as you can! I’ll contact you with further instructions.”
“YES, MASTER,” GIR replied with the frightful competence he occasionally displayed. Zim felt confident that GIR would follow through, although that confidence was tainted with the knowledge that GIR would most likely become sidetracked in the process and thus delay the arrival of the Voot. His legs were starting to give out on him; there was no time for this. He had to find a place to hide.
It dawned on him that he could threaten a subservient human into providing him with a sufficient hiding place and then dispose of the meatbag after the fact, but they were so few and far between in these early hours before the sun rose that it seemed unlikely. He was still in a residential area; risking exposure or entrapment in the matrix of the city would be unwise. Any human encountering him without his disguise would be likely to scream in horror at his vaguely insectile red eyes and antennae, if not his green skin. While the idea of horrifying random passersby pleased the crueler corners of his nature, he wasn’t keen on the idea of drawing additional attention to himself that might alert the agents to his location. He could still detect their presence on his trail through the subtle vibrations on the pavement, drawing ever closer by the minute.
He ran toward an intersection and intended to cut through the back yard of one of the houses on the Southeast corner to see what dark places he could use to shield himself from their view, what twists and turns he could take to lose them. Just as he rounded the corner of the house’s landscaping, he saw a human leaving the corner house and he could only assume she was moving toward a car parked on the side of the road. She was utterly alone and there were no other people to witness him accosting her in the dark. Yes, a female would serve his purposes nicely. Should he need to execute her, the human authorities would easily assume that she was the victim of an attack by a sexual predator. Perfect. His reconnaissance of human culture prepared him well for this opportunity.
He had little time. Zim crept silently across the yard and hid behind the driver’s side of the vehicle. As the woman made her way around the vehicle toward the driver’s side, pulling her keys from her jacket and putting the car key into the lock, Zim slithered gracefully, silently around behind her, slipping one gloved hand tightly over her mouth, while the other effortlessly grabbed an electrical weapon from his PAK and jabbed it roughly against the side of her torso. The entire sequence of movements seemed to occur within a split second and shocked the woman completely. Of all neighborhoods, this was the last in which she would have anticipated an assault.
She remained quiet and tried to remember everything she’d heard about what you’re supposed to do when you were assaulted in the dark. How many email forwards had she been inundated with over the years with just such instructions? Damn it.
“Scream and I’ll murder you,” Zim hissed into her ear. He didn’t have time to mask the inhuman quality of his voice. Time was of the essence. He felt her stiffen under his grip and it was delicious. He could practically smell her fear and it did wonderful things for his Machiavellian ego. But this was not the time to revel in such things.
“We’re going to get into the car and you’re going to drive. You will make no sudden movements and both hands will remain on the steering wheel where I can see them. If I suspect for even for a moment that you might be contemplating your escape, I will kill you without hesitation. Do not make the mistake of doubting my sincerity. Do you understand?”
The woman hesitated and then nodded quickly, shuddering within his hold. Her fear was intoxicating. How difficult it was for Zim not to pause and enjoy the moment. It was evident that she thought he was going to murder her for some grotesque human pleasure and the power he felt moved him. Quite frankly, it aroused him the way only dominating through fear could. He was born with a thirst for sadism.
“Good. We’re going to move to the passenger’s side and you will enter first. You will crawl into the driver’s seat and I will electrocute you if you attempt to do anything other than sit and start the car,” Zim hissed once again, menacingly, biting off each word to intensify her fear. Even if he couldn’t prolong the moment, he could at least play with her emotions. He so rarely had the opportunity to unabashedly taunt these pathetic creatures.
He moved quickly around the car, sensing that the agents were drawing closer. “Unlock the door,” he ordered.
She lifted her empty left hand with her open palm facing forward while her right hand inserted the key into the lock and opened the door.
“Good,” Zim said. “Get in.” He shoved her into the vehicle while jabbing her in the side with the electric weapon. He released his grip on her mouth so that she could do as he commanded. He didn’t want to have to kill her until her usefulness had been exhausted, but he would not hesitate to electrocute her violently if she tried anything or resisted him.
The woman slid into the driver’s seat after a few clumsy movements over the stick of the car and Zim sat down. She placed her hands on the steering wheel as instructed. The woman did not look at him, but asked tentatively, “Where are we going?”
“JUST DRIVE, HUMAN!” Zim bellowed and charged his weapon. Arcs of electricity jumped from one end of the device to the other as he charged it, threatening her with it pointed at her face, and the woman looked at him fearfully. Her expression was unreadable as her brain grappled to process what she was seeing. Zim’s frustration was building as he anticipated the arrival of the agents. “I don’t have TIME for your infantile confusion! GO!!”
“Okay!” the woman shouted as she frantically turned the key in the ignition and drove away from the house, speeding away.
As they raced into the dark, Zim pointed the weapon at the woman’s torso once again, poking her deep beneath her ribcage, enjoying the wince of pain he saw flicker across her face. “Your usefulness is evident at this point, but I will make life thoroughly unpleasant for you if you do not continue to cooperate. You must hide me. You are undoubtedly more familiar with the inner workings of this city than I am despite my superior intelligence, so you will use what meager amount of intelligence you might possess to locate a suitable place for me to rest and collect my thoughts without being detected. Your life depends upon your success.”
The woman was silent; she simply drove. Zim was pleased and attributed her cooperation to his superior intimidation tactics. While riding, he decided to try to contact his robot.
“GIR!” Zim shouted.
Nothing.
“GIR!! Answer your master!”
He waited. This time there was a response in the form of intermittent garbled noise and brief bursts of GIR’s metallic voice. This lasted for roughly ten seconds.
“GIR! I can’t make out what you’re saying, GIR! Have you sent the Voot?!”
Silence. Nothing.
“DAMN IT!” Zim punched the glove compartment with his free hand and then bellowed out in pain. Breathing heavily, he stopped himself from throwing a theatrical fit. He had to maintain control of the situation despite the unknown status of his headquarters. There was nothing he could do until he secured a private location for transmission and was certain that he had lost the agents.
By now he sensed that they had fallen behind, but he couldn’t be sure.
He sulked back in the seat and glanced at the woman, keeping his weapon trained on her abdomen. She drove and kept her gaze aimed directly forward, tiny beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead. He did take perverse pleasure in seeing her discomfort, but he had to be certain she would adequately serve her purpose.
“Tell me where you are taking me, human,” Zim demanded. He seemed incapable of speaking the word without a guttural lurch of disgust.
The woman flicked her eye toward him briefly but did not turn her head. She kept it firmly toward the road, knowing very well that if she looked at the thing in her passenger’s seat directly again she would be unable to turn away. In horror or fascination, she wasn’t sure. And of course, it would then kill her for failing to do its bidding. She had no interest in losing her life at twenty-six.
“My home,” she said, attempting to keep her voice from shaking. She wanted to remain as confident and calm as a situation like this would allow. She needed her wits about her if she was going to come out of this alive.
“Is this place sufficient to keep me hidden?!” Zim loudly demanded, balling his free hand into a fist and slamming it against the glovebox. “Failure will lead to an unpleasant death for you, HUMAN!!” He was beginning to feel and sound desperate, so he shut his mouth and forced himself to try to calm down. He could not allow thoughts of failure to creep into his mind, and especially not images of being dissected at the hands of human vermin. Focus. Focus on the task at hand.
She licked her lips; they had become dry and chapped in her alarm, but she too was determined to remain calm. “Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. “I believe it is. It’s one of a few hundred units in a residential quarter of the city. Even if someone knew you were in the vicinity, it would take a very long time to search every unit.”
“Good,” Zim said, calming down. “Get there quickly.”
There was no need for his urging; they had arrived. She had taken the freeway loop that cut their travel time in half, despite the fact that surface streets would have allowed them to remain more adequately hidden. After all, no matter how fascinating a turn her night had taken, she was only invested in this creature’s concealment insofar as it would keep her alive. She pulled the vehicle into a crowded but dilapidated parking lot next to her apartment building. Turning the engine off, she slowly released the steering wheel and kept her hands in the air, palms open and forward, keeping her gaze aimed at the windshield.
“We’re here,” she said.

“You’re going to exit the vehicle and I’m going to follow. You will not run. You will not shout. You will do nothing but walk slowly inside the building. Do anything else and I will kill you,” Zim threatened. “And I will enjoy it.”
He was tempted to kill her the moment they entered her residence, but he would gauge her usefulness once he collected his thoughts. She could prove to be a valuable resource or an unnecessary nuisance.
She opened the car door and slowly slid her legs out, standing up, keeping her open hands raised in front of her. As Zim was crawling out of the car behind her, she debated her next actions. She swallowed nervously and said, “I’m going to put my hands down. If anyone sees me like this, they’ll know I’m in trouble.”
Zim was surprised at this and paused for only the briefest moment, raising the muscle in his forehead that, were he human, would have raised his eyebrow. In fact he had none, but the effect was the same. This female monkey thing was either smart enough to know that her best chance of survival was to cooperate, or so abysmally stupid that she was helping her aggressor out of sheer idiocy. “Yes,” Zim said. “Very well.”
He held his weapon in his left hand and jabbed her with it beneath her ribcage once again. She grimaced and snapped at him, “Is that really necessary?!”
He narrowed his eyes and jabbed her again, harder this time, sliding his right arm around her waist under her jacket. He now stood immediately behind her, embracing her from behind. What any passersby would not be able to see is that he dug the three fingers on his right hand into her flesh. “Do not cross me, human,” he hissed into her left hear, the word escaping his lips as though it tasted bitter in his mouth. “You’ve been wise to obey me. Do not start making mistakes now.” His fingers grabbed at something vital deep within her body and she doubled over in pain, clenching her teeth to keep herself from crying out. She could feel her anger and fear rise simultaneously and began to wonder if she might be able to exact revenge on the sadistic green fucker for doing this to her.
“Walk,” he ordered, keeping his arm around her while shoving her forward. She realized he was doing this to shield others’ view of him. If they did not look closely, someone might think he was embracing her like a lover aiding her after they’d had too much wine. He was, after all, rather slender and short at only 5’4”, a mere inch taller than she was, and therefore easily hidden by her frame despite her own short stature.
Those grey aliens were always rumored to be little, she mused as she walked.
Alien? Is that what it was? She had no idea. For all she knew, it could be a human being from another dimension or some demon risen from the bowels of a hell she hadn’t believed in. Pretty much everything she was sure of was flying out the window right now.

“We have to walk up the stairs,” she said quietly to him as they approached a stairwell. “Four flights.”
Zim did not answer but simply jabbed her in the ribcage again, moving her forward. In truth he was glad she was keeping him abreast of her next move, but he had to keep her intimidated and uncomfortable if he was to remain in control. Lord over them with fear, that was the most effective way to do it. He continually pushed the weapon into her abdomen as they moved fluidly up the stairs together, the darkness of the stairwell and the night keeping them shielded from view. An occasional person walked by on the floors below as they ascended, but no one paid them any mind.
“This floor,” she said as they topped the fourth flight of stairs. She walked toward the sixth door on the right and unlocked it. As she was about to open the door, Zim used his right hand, the one gripping her organs, to flip her around to face him, pinning her back against the door. She had no choice but to look at him directly as he grabbed her face under her chin with his right hand and moved his own face within inches of hers. She could smell the faint scent of something familiar... something not unpleasant but unidentifiable. He gripped her face hard and flicked a switch on his weapon with one of the fingers of his left hand before aiming it inches from her temple. A new scent dominated her senses. Ozone. She guessed he increased the strength of his weapon.
“Listen to me,” he growled as he narrowed his red eyes and grinned menacingly. She caught more than a mere glimpse of the incredibly sharp, clean teeth in his mouth as he spoke. She had no idea if the creature ate people, but she prayed it was a vegetarian. Its grip was also surprisingly strong around her chin, neck and face. There was unbelievable hidden strength in the creature’s small frame.
“Make no attempts to alert anyone of my presence here,” he said. “Keep yourself well within view unless I order otherwise, and make no sudden movements. While death by electrocution would be immeasurably unpleasant for you, I can think of a hundred other slow deaths that would leave you begging to be let into the gates of Hell for some small reprieve.”
She struggled not to let her green eyes fill with tears, her body tremble or her fear to overcome her and leave her an unconscious heap in the doorway. He could see her otherwise pretty features contort under her discomfort and he tried to ignore the giddy rush of sadistic joy.
She spoke through clenched teeth with labored breathing as the tenacity of his grip had strengthened during his little speech, threatening to crush her windpipe. “I understand,” she struggled to say.
He let go of her and violently spun her around. At once he decreased the strength of the electric weapon, jabbing it back into her now bruised ribs and reaching past her to grab the doorknob himself now that the door was unlocked. “Keep your hands where I can see them again,” he said, breathing into her ear. There was that familiar scent again. It was his breath and maybe even his skin. Again, it wasn’t unpleasant, but it was a scent she never would have associated with breath or... demons, or whatever he was, and she couldn’t quite place its familiarity.

She raised her hands up in front of her again, palms open. As he turned the knob and opened the door, they walked forward together in a ballet of heightened senses and tingling nerves. One feared for her life, the other for his mission. Both were determined to survive.
“Turn on the light,” he commanded as he closed the door behind them and locked the deadbolt.
She raised the open palm of her right hand and started to reach toward the light switch, but changed her mind. She needed to be clever if she was going to get out of this and decided to make a bold move in a sign of subservience to a creature whose superiority complex clearly reigned his behavior. She whispered, “It’s here,” and slowly reached down to his right hand, touched his gloved wrist and then delicately held it in her fingers. She tried to keep her touch light so that he would not feel threatened or think that she was trying to thwart him in any way, but all the same she felt the creature stiffen under her touch.
She quickly took her hand away and held her palm up in submission. He moved his weapon and heard a click followed by the scent of ozone again. “DO NOT—“ he began to threaten, but she interrupted him.
“...it’s here,” she said, taking his wrist gently and quickly moving his hand toward the wall where the light switch was. While she did this, he jabbed the weapon into her side and quickly electrocuted her. The sensation was excruciating as the shock traveled down the length of her body and made her teeth clench together uncontrollably. She thought her jaw would shatter.
She screamed in pain, doubling over and falling to the floor, tears filling her eyes. It was a stupid thing for her to have done but she had to make this creature believe she would not try to get away and would, in fact, help him. It was her only chance of survival. She would have to choose her risks more wisely.
Zim touched her only briefly with the device, but he knew the effect on her system would be profound. When she touched him, he was absolutely certain she was attempting some sniveling human trickery or to prepare to run away like a scuttling cockroach. He was taken by surprise when his hand merely fell upon the light switch. Her actions puzzled him and made him more uncomfortable than had she attempted escape. Nevertheless, sudden movements were unacceptable!
Flipping on the light, he glanced down at his captive and saw her clutching her left side with her right hand, her left hand raised, palm open. A gesture of surrender. “Get up,” he sneered. “And let that remind you why you should not make any sudden movements.”

When she did not get up, he grabbed her arm and started to roughly yank her to her feet. He eased up a little and helped her gently, for no other reason than knowing that her system was incapable of moving quickly after such an onslaught of electrical current. When she was more or less standing, albeit slightly hunched over and panting, he pushed her against the wall of her apartment’s foyer. This time, he neither gripped her face nor jabbed her with the weapon, but he stood close to her, face once again inches from hers.
She was not looking him in the eye and he could sense the red heat of her fury pouring off of her in waves.
“Look at me,” he demanded, his solid red eyes fixated on her face. She flicked her gaze toward him, her expression stern and for a moment, fearless. She had the look of a wild animal who would gladly rip apart his face were she given an inch to move. A drop of red blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth.
Zim kept his eyes fixated on hers, faces inches apart, and moved his hand toward her face. He slowly wiped the trickle of blood away with his gloved finger, pressing hard against her skin while spreading the red liquid across her chin. He breathed menacingly into her face and said, “You bit your tongue. Compose yourself immediately and follow me.” Pausing to wipe the finger of his glove on her shirt, he turned and walked into the main room of the apartment.
She tried desperately to hold onto her fury, to let it be the lifeline that centered her, kept her thoughts collected and her mind focused. Yet the moment the creature turned his back to her, she felt herself unravel internally, fighting the urge to collapse to the floor in a sobbing heap. She wasn’t the type to fall apart easily, but this was shaping up to be the most frightening day of her life. She didn’t know if she’d live to see the sun rise.
She followed him into her living room and saw that he was already sitting on her couch with various unfamiliar instruments spread out on the table. She quietly moved toward the couch and stood near the opposite end from where he was sitting, wanting to avoid moving within his reach but trying to remain in sight.
They remained like that for a few minutes, her staring at him while he worked. He had taken something out of the oblong thing on his back and was messing with it. Nothing she was looking at was familiar. Not the creature, not his instruments. She felt like a stranger in a strange land, although that description fit the figure sitting before her far better. What was it? Its frame was humanoid, but obviously unlike any human she’d ever seen.
“Sit down,” Zim said firmly, without taking his eyes from the instruments he was fiddling with. “You’re making me nervous standing there.”
She was startled out of her thoughts and promptly sat down on the couch, still remaining on the far end. Her ribcage throbbed. Obviously, he had bruised it with his damn... space taser, or whatever it was. She tore her eyes away from the strange sight in her living room and glanced at her side, touching it gingerly in several places to assess the damage. She didn’t think anything was broken, which was good. She may have to run later and it would be far more difficult with a set of broken ribs. She could probably deal with bruises, despite the pain.
Her mouth tasted metallic thanks to having bitten her tongue. That demonic asshole had to humiliate her further by wiping its finger on her shirt, didn’t it? Fuck him. Or it. Whatever.
She licked her dry lips. On top of everything else, she felt like her throat and mouth were coated in cotton. Water would be good. She shifted in her seat a little, glanced at the creature and said, “I need water. Can I get some for you?”
Only now did Zim pause in his work. He grabbed a sharp tool out of his PAK and with one swift movement, the tool flew a fraction of an inch past her body and stuck out of the arm of the couch, vibrating. She looked at it, utterly stunned. Had she merely shifted her weight during its brief flight, it would have stabbed her in the arm.
As the woman turned to look at Zim incredulously, she discovered him already practically on top of her. He grabbed her neck powerfully and hissed, “Do NOT touch me with your LIQUID. I will RIP YOUR EYES FROM YOUR HEAD and feed them to you if you allow so much as a trickle of water to touch my skin! Keep the vile stuff away from me at all costs if you value your life, you filthy sack of human waste.” He issued a quiet grumble from the depths of his throat that could almost qualify as a growl, although it was unlike anything she had ever heard before, both subtle and horrifyingly menacing. He simply remained there, lording over her with those red eyes piercing her own as if to burn his command into her retinas.

The woman slowly raised her hand and placed it very gently on Zim’s wrist. He was not strangling her, but she knew that he could crush her windpipe easily. She said nothing and did not struggle, but simply looked him in the eye. She desperately fought to stay composed, but after about thirty seconds of sitting there on the couch with this alien creature’s hand threatening to crush her windpipe, his blazing red eyes and sharp teeth in her face, a couple of tears escaped her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.
They ran down her face and their remnants met their end on Zim’s gloved hand. He released her and she gasped for air, desperate to fill her lungs completely. She managed to choke out the words, “I meant no harm.” She had to stifle a hearty “fuck you”.
Zim reached across her and grabbed the instrument sticking out of the arm of the couch, pointed it at her throat and scowled. “When I need your assistance, I’ll ask for it, human. Go get your water.”
He sat up and returned to work.
As Zim worked to enhance the communication device from his PAK, he thought about how curious it was that of all humans, he would accost one who would end up puzzling him more than any other he had thus far encountered. Granted, he had very little prolonged contact with any one human and preferred it that way, with perhaps the exception of Dib, but he had not expected to be met with so little resistance from his captive. He was powerful and threatening; he would have anticipated more groveling, begging and pure frozen fear in the face of impending doom. These were the reactions he was accustomed to. As an Irken Invader, there was little else to be expected when an inferior species was in his presence.
The human female feared him, to be sure, but he had to admit that her attempts to remain calm were a nobler reaction than most members of her species could muster. In particular was her apparent ease in the presence of a species clearly alien to her planet. She was obviously shocked by his existence and appearance in her life, but the rapid-fire panicked inquiry into his origin which he had encountered with past humans was completely absent here. And now she was offering him refreshment? Bizarre.
The woman returned with her water and stood next to the couch, looking outside. The window’s blinds had been open all night and now the morning sun was beginning to rise. She watched it as she sipped her water, her eyes bloodshot. She occasionally sniffed; she obviously had herself a little cry in the kitchen.
He paused and looked at her. He would later have to be sure that she did not sneak any utensils or instruments into her clothing, but a cursory glance suggested she had not. God, humans were so pathetic, leaking from every orifice.
She realized he was looking at her and she quickly moved to sit down on the couch, remembering his earlier order to be seated. Zim remained hunched over his work on the edge of the couch, but he watched her as she moved. She seemed to refuse to look in his direction, although her expression was unreadable. Distant, even, as she watched the sun rise. She was intentionally avoiding his gaze.
He scrutinized her, once again raising his non-existent eyebrow, and then sat up a bit, holding an instrument in his hand (fortunately for her, this one was blunt). He sat there for a moment, hands resting on his legs, looking at her. Under his intense stare, she finally turned her head to look at him, calmly holding her now half empty glass of ice water between the palms of her hands in her lap.
“You’re staring at me,” she dared.
Despite her compliance thus far, she was obviously a naturally spirited personality to dare say such a thing under these circumstances. Oddly enough, he actually found himself preferring this to the typical sniveling, groveling pathetic display of submission that usually served to validate his inflated ego.

He pointed his instrument at her in a benign gesture. “You don’t seem too shocked that there’s an alien in your living room.”
This obviously flustered her a little, although in anger or surprise he couldn’t tell. Color simply rose to her cheeks as she stiffened and looked back toward the sunrise. “So, is that what you are, then?” she asked.

“Yes,” Zim said simply, and turned back to his work.
They sat there like that for awhile, she watching the sunrise while he worked. The only sounds in the apartment were the occasional clink of ice in her glass as it melted and the various clanging noises Zim made as he worked on his communication device. A thousand thoughts floated in and out of the woman’s head as her brain attempted to factor this new information into her worldview. Her universe view, she supposed.
She shifted a little and silently watched him work, trying to accept what she was seeing. An alien. In her living room. Working in her living room. On her couch. Right next to the photo of her baby niece. In the same room where she did her pilates workout in the evenings. Sitting in the same spot where she had so glamorously eaten pizza for dinner last night while watching Grey’s Anatomy.
The sun was now fully risen, its rays illuminating the room in delicate shades of orange and yellow. When he wasn’t snarling in her face and electrocuting her, this alien didn’t look quiet so fearsome. He was intensely focused on his work so she felt she could study him; after all, she was naturally curious and this was an alien. Apparently. In her living room. His skin was green, but it was actually a fairly pleasant light shade of green and appeared both smooth and flawless. Save, of course, for a tiny scar on his right cheek that she would almost say was the pockmark remnant of acne if it weren’t the only one of its kind on his face. Did aliens even get pimples?
As he worked and concentrated on the task before him, she noticed his antennae (antennae!) moving expressively. No matter how horribly he had treated her, she was fascinated by him simply by virtue of his alienness. With his demeanor softened this way, it was almost impossible to believe he had electrocuted her to her knees and threatened her life repeatedly. He looked almost gentle. She reproachfully reminded herself that it would be dangerous to mistake him for anything but deadly.
She would not let herself forget that he had, in fact, done horrible things to her and would likely dismember her if it would please him. She saw vast intelligence behind those large red eyes of his and she knew he was probably capable of things she couldn’t even dream of. He had communicated as much to her in a single glance.
Still, as he sat there quietly working on his... machine, was it? Some kind of device? As he sat there working on it, looking quite different from the vicious creature he had been not even an hour ago, she began to allow herself the real hope that she might make it out of this in one piece. Or at least still sentient.
If he could appear gentle, there might be some modicum of humanity lurking in there. Appeal to that side of him and maybe she would be okay. Maybe he would let her live even though she knew of his existence when he was so obviously desperate to conceal himself.
Make him see her as an individual and maybe she could get out of this.

She cleared her throat a little and looked at him. He was obviously aware of her because he flicked his eyes briefly in her direction, but he continued working. She just stared at him, not quite sure what she should say.
“What?” he snapped impatiently. “What do you want? I’m working.”
She was quiet for a moment and then asked, “Do you have a name?”
He paused again, just briefly. His face contorted into a small grimace and then he kept working. “Silence. I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

She was quiet, shifting her gaze toward the ice in her glass that was now almost completely melted. She continued to hold it for no other reason than nerves, needing something to do with her hands or she would start fidgeting or biting her nails.
After maybe a minute or two, she said, “Mine is Jex.” Her voice was calm and even.
Zim said nothing. He just sat there, working on enhancing his communication device, apparently ignoring her completely. They sat in silence.
Ten minutes later, he placed his instrument on the table next to the device and sat back, hands on his knees. “I must admit,” he said with what she was tempted to believe was a sincere tone, “your conversational attitude confuses me... human. Why do you think I would be interested in such a triviality as your name? Do you not remember the torture I’m willing to inflict upon you? I thought I made it very clear. You are a pawn, a thing to be used as a means to an end and nothing more. Irritate me further and you will not live long.” He seemed to be finished speaking, but then after a moment he added, “Why would I be interested in your name?”
Jex swallowed nervously and then looked at him. Her heart was pounding, knowing she was risking his irritation. Irritation can easily lead to frustration, which can quickly lead to anger. Tread softly, she reminded herself.
“Because,” she began, pausing to select her words carefully. “...I’m going to help you.”
In truth he was curious about her, about her name and many other things. Some of her behaviors had been entirely unanticipated and this intrigued him, even made him wonder if she might be truly valuable beyond his need for a place to hide. She claimed a willingness to help him and if he played his cards right, he might actually be able to capitalize on that willingness. If it was sincere.
The tension in the room was palpable as Jex sweated out Zim’s silence and Zim pondered his options. He was, after all, getting nervous about GIR’s continued silence even in the face of his enhanced communication device. Fortunately Jex had not called his bluff, but he had finished working on the enhancement about thirty minutes ago and had not successfully made contact with GIR. He did not want her to know that he was mentally flailing around in a near panic at the thought of his robotic servant and his headquarters both being infiltrated by the human vermin, so he had been feigning continued work on the device while he tried to decide on his next move.
Zim stood up and walked toward Jex. She looked up at him with a transparently hopeful expression on her face. He crossed his arms and looked down at her, his demeanor nothing short of pompous. “You will continue to serve me because you must, not because you’ve chosen it,” he asserted. “You have been stripped of the luxury of choice.”
Jex’s expression faltered. She knew he was right, but the confirmation of her fears was almost too much to bear. There was no ounce of compassion to be accessed in the creature, the alien, standing over her. It would be a mistake to believe she would escape this situation alive. She continued to breathe because he found her useful, or believed she might be useful in the future. The most she could realistically hope for was a quick death once her purpose had been served. Or escape, if she dared risk it. The problem is, he now knew where she lived. There they were, after all, sitting in her fucking living room.
With a flippant gesture of the hand, he sat back down in front of his device and continued to pretend to tinker with it. “Zim,” he said.
She looked at him. “What?”
“I am IRKEN INVADER ZIM!” He proudly declared. A grin spread across his face. “I’m here to seize your planet, and yes, you’re going to help me.”
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Capax Infiniti