Featured Song: Pain, by Three Days Grace

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Chapter One: Problems

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The Irken Empire had a problem.

The Tallest were missing, presumed dead. And no one had stepped up to take their place - no one nearly tall enough to register as one. Currently, the Empire was being run by four advisors, the closest to Tallest they could get, and they were still frantically looking around for someone else. They were also looking for Red and Purple, but since their signals had apparently disappeared from even their most advanced tracking technology, there wasn't much hope in that department.

"Check it again," One told some technician, narrowing his crimson eyes. "There has to be someone who's gone through the spurt--"

"They've checked a thousand times, Crim," Another interrupted, her voice grim.

"They need to check again. There has to be someone. Anyone."

The wine-eyed female who spoke before just sighed in exasperation, walking away. Then she noticed one of the remaining two, a male with dark green eyes, lounging comfortably in Purple's chair. She kicked his leg, but he didn't move.

"Come on, Vatix," He drawled, shifting so he was comfortable again. "They're not gonna use 'em."

"How dare you," She growled back, kicking him again.

Argo, the last one, a male with purple eyes, then spoke up, stuttering slightly. "Y-you can't blame him - it's been at least a w-week."

Vatix whirled on him, looking ready to gut him just for breathing.

"Ooh, a fight! Nex lubs his fight scenes, he does!" The one in Purple's chair cackled.

Crim was trying to ignore this the best he could, lest it overload his brain anymore than it was. Being that he was the one "in charge" out of the four, he was really the only one concerned with what happened to the Empire. Of course, Vatix cared as well, but she was too occupied keeping the other two in line. They weren't the type of advisors to jump in and rule the Empire themselves, no - that takes a certain personality, and while Nex seemed to have it, he was too concerned with his Irk-damned snacks.

"Okay, let's try this again," He said, aimed toward himself and the technician nearest him. "How many Invaders have we checked?"

"All of them." The technician replied in monotone.

"All of them?"

He could vaguely remember there being more than that... this one Irken... but every time his brain tried to bring it to the surface, the memory skirted back out of reach. He knew it was bad, or else he would have been able to remember it.

"All of them." The technician repeated.

"Well," Argo interjected. "There is one more..."

Realization finally dawned on him.

And he wondered why he was so stupid as to forget.

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Zim was in pain.

And he had no idea why.

It had begun as soon as he had gotten to the classroom, and had gotten worse with each passing moment. It was an incredible pain, like someone was trying to make balloon animals out of his squeedlyspooch while it was still inside him... or being stabbed all over. It was a mixture of that, actually, this pain. And because of it, he was sitting there at his desk with his head down and tongue out, arms hanging like a monkey's, drooling slightly as though someone had removed his brain. Every time he tried to move into a more "normal" position, a bolt of the second kind of pain would shoot into his neck, and he'd be forced to resume the prior zombie-ish position.

And of course, he had to vocalize it. Little pained grunts and whimpers accompanied the constant shifting to find a pose that didn't hurt, and a bit more drooling. It eventually ended up with him trying to cancel it out with another kind of pain - the pain you get from slamming your head on something immobile. But that only made it worse.

He felt like he was going to explode if it didn't stop...

"I think Zim's dying," Zita commented from behind him.

This attracted Ms. Bitters' attention, as she looked over toward the sad lump of Irken, just as he finished up another "cycle" - shift, whimper, smack.

"That's the tenth time I've heard your skull impacting with something flat today, Zim," The teacher said coldly. "Go to the nurse."

He moaned but attempted to obey, dragging himself out of the desk, yelping as the pain exploded through his feet when they impacted with the floor. Regardless, he started the slow process of walking with all that pain still throbbing vibrantly in his insides, and it was a miracle he actually got into the hall considering it.

Meanwhile, Dib had been watching this with steadily increasing curiosity. Zim did seem to be in pain, but from what? He hadn't attacked the alien recently - at least, with nothing that could cripple him like that. He usually got over it within seconds anyway. But now... it almost made him feel sorry for him. Almost. But he was sure that whatever it was that was hurting him, he'd deserved it.

Zim obviously didn't feel that way.

Somehow, the Irken had made his way home, and once the door was open he fell to the floor. GIR was doing something stupid to the TV, but when his master had come in he'd stopped, running over and poking him in the head. The poke sent a renewed bolt of pain through him, and he whimpered again. His SIR probably didn't care, as he ran off giggling about cheese.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" He wondered aloud, though even talking hurt.

He attempted to get up, succeeded, moved a little closer to the couch, then ended up falling back to the floor.

"Computer... run a bio-scan... dear Irk, just tell me I'm not dying..."

There were a few beeps as it processed the request.

"Subject Zim is not dying. Subject appears to be--"

It was cut off by Zim screaming as a something of an explosion occurred inside, like something was trying to get out through his back. This much pain added to the rest of it appeared to be too much for him, as he promptly fainted, still jerking spasmodically from the pain even unconscious.

The computer continued, though no one was around to hear it.

"--growing from the inside out. Growth spurt will only stop after full height has been reached. Full height currently unknown..."

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World's shortest first chapter of something I've written.

Review if you want.

5 AM is bad for your head.