A/N: Alright. Sorry to anyone who read this before I pulled it, I realized more reworking needed to be done. Here I go again on my own. Won't be pulled again, promise.
Okay. This is the alternate beginning to my long, sprawling, epic crossover series. 'Alternate' as in 'focused in IZ canon with very few crossover elements'. The other beginning is similar, but for Buzz Lightyear of Star Command, another of the fandoms involved- the third and last is Lilo & Stitch, and I won't have that fic done for a while.

Now. If you don't want to read crossed!fic, that's fine. As stated, this fic has very few elements from other canon in it. You should do okay, and you can stop after this story and avoid the (very crossover) sequels if you so desire. But if you like what you see and want more well obviously that's fine. (Well, and your browser has a back button. But that won't help out the starving author.)

Next order of business- I realize the psuedo-science involved in this fic is rather farfetched, but the canon source involves a plotline that has the characters using and I quote 'baloney DNA' to alter each other's genetic makeup. Therefore, I'm gonna do what I darn well please when it comes to the 'science'. Don't try to puzzle it out. (Baloney's made from pigs! That's PIG DNA! THEY SHOULD BE TURNING INTO PIGS)
Everything else in this, however, is fair game. Don't hesitate to call me out on any problems, especially with characterization and spelling/grammar.

Another thing. Liberties are taken with the character's appearances (cue sighs) Dib is taller. Zim is shorter- YES. I MADE HIM SHORTER. Why?

Well, it's like this- when looking at concept art for the crossover 'verse, I realized the IZ proportions are all messed up. (No surprises there.) To be a 'normal' 10-year old, Dib needs to be taller. But while I could visualize that easily, we've all seen older!Dib after all so it's not a huge leap, I was very reluctant to change Zim's proportions or height. It's important to his character that he be little. And I just thought it would be very funny if he was shorter than all the 'short' characters in the other fandoms. So, Zim is shorter than Dib now but has the same proportions as he has in the show. Dib is just taller. So Zim isn't really shorter, he stayed the same while Dib got taller. Also Irkens have eyebrows. And Irkens have scales. DO NOT QUESTION. Zim's still got a hideous wig and a pink dress, though.

All right, TL;DR done now. Enjoy the story.

Nowhere Man

An Invader ZIM fan fiction

-because I have plenty of time to say both syllables-

You're poison running through my veins
You're poison!
~Alice Cooper, 'Poison'

99 balloons
On their way to the horizon
They thought they looked like UFOs
~Nena, '99 Luftballons' (translated)

10/18/02

3:48 PM

Dib and Zim were fighting again.

Later neither would remember how it had started. Maybe Dib had been minding his own business and Zim had suddenly decided to slap him across the face, quite understandably leading to retaliation. Or maybe Dib had taken out his frustrations at the lack of alien awareness on Zim after the alien had said something particularly stupid. Or maybe they'd just... mutually decided it would be a good day to try and kill each other.

Whatever reason, there they were rolling around on the grass and screaming obscenities at each other with a surrounding ring of students chanting, “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” in the way of such irritating children. Obviously, no one was actually going to do something helpful, not in that bunch, nothing like pry the two away from each other, or send for a teacher. No, there was nothing like that, only-

“YOU STUPID PIECE OF EVIL ALIEN CRAP!” Dib hollered, slamming Zim to the ground. A group of children cheered. None of them particularly liked Dib, but after knowing him for a year a fair amount of them thought Zim was even worse.

“KAGASAR SHREEEEEEEEEEEEKIT!” Zim screamed, baring rows of jagged interlocking teeth. The fine, fishy scales on his face were flushed dark green.

Dib reared back, blinking and cocking his head to the side. His preteen angst had been forgotten in favor of puzzling out the strange new alien word. “What? Huh?”

“YOU STINK!” Zim snapped quickly.

“That is NOT what you said-" Zim slapped him full in the face. "OW! SON OF A GUN!”

Zim leapt to his feet and gave Dib a quick kick in the shins with a triumphant cry of “KIGASREEEEE!” Several of the watching children hooted and cheered. Then the tiny alien turned his back, apparently intending to make his getaway.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Dib tackled his enemy to the ground again, flipped him over and started punching him in the face. (More hoots and cheers from the mob-mentality'd watchers.) It wasn't hard to keep him down, provided Zim didn't think to activate his Paklegs (in which case Dib would be flung into the next block). But he probably wouldn't do that in front of all these kids, so Dib had an easy edge. Zim was a good few inches shorter than him and probably didn't weigh twenty-five pounds soaking wet. "ARE YOU RETARDED, ZIM? IS THAT IT?" Dib screamed now. "COME ON! I MEAN, COME ON! SETTING MY DESK ON FIRE?!"

Oh, that's why they were fighting. Ignore the earlier error in this report.

Zim gasped, struggling and clawing, his pupils shrinking. The green drained out of his skin, leaving it a sickly yellow. (Dib still didn't know how he did that.) "Let me go!" he hollered in an even hoarser voice than usual.

"No way, I'm winning!"

"Let me up, you're suffocating me!"

"No!"

Zim sank his teeth into Dib's arm.

His very sharp, inhuman teeth.

Dib broke away, yelping. Zim did too, clutching his belly. “AAAH! SO FOUL!” he screamed, gagging. His skin paled further and he started coughing and spitting.

Dib held his arm up to his face, wide-eyed. “Ow! You broke the skin!” That was a first. Dib had received several bites from Zim before but none drawing blood. He winced, realizing the blood would stain his much-loved jacket.

Zim spat repeatedly onto the ground. “Oh, Irk!” he croaked and began to paw at the surface of his skinny purple tongue. He was foaming at the mouth, possibly from the 70% water in Dib's body.

Dib backed away, hunching his shoulders and glaring. “That HURTS!” he yelled, clutching his arm. A hot tingling sensation was quickly spreading from the site of the bite, and his pupils shrank. “Oh man, you’re not poisonous are you?”

Zim panted. His own pupils were contracted to slits and his shoulders were heaving. His whole body was shaking. For crying out loud, Dib couldn't possibly taste THAT bad. Stupid alien drama queen.

Dib stared closely at his arm. The strange tingling sensation continued to spread throughout his body. “Oh, man! What did you DO to me?” He backed away further, glaring at Zim and examining his wounded arm by turns. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the assembled crowd was starting to leave, bored now that the fight was over. "Wait! Where are you going? I might need an ambulance!"

No answer.

Dib sighed, rolling his eyes. "Figures." He wished he could change schools. Maybe to Canada. Or Hawai'i. Hawai'i had cool indigenous life.

Zim's mouth worked and he leaned over, hitching thickly. Dib wrinkled up his nose. "Hey!" he said, frowning. "I don't taste that bad! For crying out loud, Zim, could you be any more of a-"

Zim gave him a woeful look. Yellowish foam was dripping from his jaw. Dib took a step backwards, suddenly feeling that maybe Zim wasn't overreacting.

Zim pitched forward, landing on hands and knees. His back arched and he shuddered convulsively, retching up more foam. Dib took another step backwards, his eyes widening. His grip on his arm tightened.

Zim drew the back of his arm across his mouth, panting. His sides heaved. Dib watched as he got to his feet, shaking all over and barely able to stand.

"What did you do, Dib-stink?" he hissed, gazing up at Dib with the pupils of his fake eyes dilated in fear. Then he coughed again, a fine spray of purple blood droplets flying out of his mouth. His arms wrapped tightly around his waist and he shook and shivered.

Dib remained silent, pressing his lips together and glancing down at the wound on his arm. A fine layer of white foam was appearing over it. He brushed it away, gritting his teeth against the pain. Then he looked up at Zim. The two locked eyes.

"There you are, Dib," Gaz's dry voice said in his ear. Dib yelped. Zim hissed.

4:12 PM

"I think he infected me with something!" Dib snapped, his boots clacking purposefully against the sidewalk and his breath forming a small cloud of moisture in the cold air. His hand was clamped tightly around his arm just above where Zim had bitten him in the effort to serve as a homemade tourniquet.

Gaz didn't answer, but Dib was used to that. He kept talking. "I mean- come on! That bad of a reaction? It's hard to believe only one of us would be affected by something that powerful! I swear he's poisoned me! I'm gonna try and flush it out of my system when we get home. Cuz, y'know. I'm not gonna just leave it. Because... um..." He glanced sideways, unsure where he'd been going with this.

"Whatever," Gaz grumbled, dispatching a group of pixel piggies. Dib instinctively distanced himself from her a little bit. Gamers were scary. Gaz had been scary before she'd been a gamer. Now she was REALLY scary.

He looked down at the mark on his arm. Zim's sharp teeth had gone right through the arm of his jacket (his beloved jacket- oh well, it wasn't like he'd never torn it before) and punctured skin, causing blood to soak the sleeve. Luckily it wasn't a deep wound.

"Oh, man!" Dib hissed. "He's gonna pay for this! I mean, he's gotta buy me a new jacket. I love this jacket!" In fact, he didn't want a new one. He'd just fix this one because he loved his jacket... he looked like a spy in it.

"Whatever."

"Am I still bleeding?" he said, studying the bite. There were clear tooth marks in the skin, but he thought it had stopped bleeding.

Dib frowned. "Something's wrong with this," he reiterated. "Who knows what kind of crazy alien venom he's got? Huh? Huh? I'm gonna need to do some tests."

Dib's eyes glazed over in a strange kind of wonder. "What if he's altered my very DNA?" That would be totally cool... cooler if it wasn't life threatening. "I'm guessing, with my luck, he doesn't have the kind of venom that turns you into a superbeing, but I can hope, right?"

Gaz raised an eyebrow at him. "Poodles can bite you on the arm too, you know."

Dib frowned at her. "And give you rabies, Gaz. Rabies." Come to think of it, chances were good that Gaz could also give him rabies.

"Huh." She looked amused. "Space rabies."

"This isn't a joking matter, Gaz."

"I bet the first symptom is getting a really big head."

Dib directed a long-suffering look at the sky. "That joke got old in first grade."

"Well, yeah, it got old for you."

Sisters were overrated, Dib decided, not for the first time.

And they walked into their house.

4:13 PM

"I swear that Earth pig was poisonous!" Zim hissed in an even scratchier voice than usual, his boots clacking purposefully against the sidewalk. No one answered, as Zim had no one to walk home from school with. GIR was back at the base. Not that he cared!

He raised one arm and drew the back of it across his mouth. His tongue was tingling and felt oddly warm and his belly still felt ill-prone. At least he wasn't foaming at the mouth like a diseased dogmonster anymore. That'd just been gross.

He'd inadvertently swallowed some of the Dib's blood- it couldn't have been more than, what, half a drop but it had scorched his throat. Zim pawed at the fine scales covering his neck, his lower lip jutting petulantly. His squeedly-spooch clenched up briefly, then smoothed itself out. His antennae pressed to his head underneath his wig. The inside of his mouth still tasted of human flesh and jacket cotton and he trembled, obsessively wiping his mouth yet again, even though it was completely dry. The child had made him bite. He hadn't dared to use his teeth on someone since he was a smeet.

Irkens never, ever bit in fights, or any other time. They had done so once, before they had Paks- it had been the typical mode of combat in barroom brawls and such- but now that they did have Paks they had no need for such primitive weapons. Inflicting damage with your mouth was a perfect way to contract some sort of disease. Ugh. Gross.

Of course, when he'd been a smeet he'd bitten all the time, he'd bitten the hands of chaperoning adult Irkens when they hit him with the swatter (for biting), he'd bitten other children that had made fun of his height, but that had been years ago...

Zim lifted up the bottom of one glove, peering at the inside of his wrist, which was missing its scales and covered in small, white scars. Lessee. He'd gotten that one right there for biting a Taller. The Taller had picked him up by the antennae. Or was that Zoburg that had picked him up by the antennae? In which case, he didn't remember why he'd bitten the Taller, but there'd been a reason. And it'd been a good reason, too!

Speaking of which, should he get out the swatter when he got back? Biting was a big no, but it hadn't been an Irken, it'd been a stupid Dib with his knee digging into Zim's chest and crushing his squeedly spooch and, ahem, HITTING HIM IN THE FACE, and he'd had to do something. Ugh... besides. He trusted his own judgement, right? The Tallest would definitely understand. Right? Right.

He'd come to his front walk now and his pace quickened. Whether he needed the swatter or not, he knew he needed a medical scan. Right away!

One of two things usually happened when Zim entered the house: GIR either tackled him right away screaming "Master!" in tones of utmost jubilation, or he... wasn't even there. Now, he wasn't even there. Probably out 'clubbing'. Well, Zim didn't care. He didn't need to be greeted when he walked in. (Minimoose wouldn't greet him, ever. He was too busy watching all the really annoying TV shows Zim denounced as verboten when he was in the house.)

"Computer!" he snapped the minute he was inside. "Take me to the lab!"

The floor sunk under Zim and he was surrounded by the familiar nest-like tangle of cords. He tapped his foot restlessly on the platform as he descended deeper underground. Dib. Dib. The Dib. Over the past year that three-letter name had become a callword for all Zim's frustrations, no matter whether or not the two were even related. Whenever he felt angry or irritable his thoughts invariably turned to Dib. He was just so wretched. Even his blood, it seemed, had it out for Zim.

"I hate this planet," the small Irken hissed for maybe the hundredth time as he stepped off the platform. His squeedly-spooch lurched uncomfortably and he clutched at the fabric of his uniform.

"Computer!" he barked. "I need a medical scan. Now!"

"Sheesh, you Irkens never say please."

"You're a computer, not a Tallest! Just do it!" And Dib never said please either. Hmph. Brat.

"Hmph. Remove your disguise," the computer said in a bored drone. Zim dragged the wig off his head and tossed it aside, then peeled the contacts off his eyes and tucked them into his Pak. He blinked a few times, enjoying the small comfort of having the scratchy lenses removed.

"Should I take off my uniform?" he asked.

"None of us need to see that," the computer replied. "I can do the scan with it on."

"But not with my wig on?" he questioned, cocking his head to the side and raising an eyebrow.

"Your disguise just makes you look really creepy, okay? Now hold still."

That was just rude, but since when did his computer behave otherwise. "I can't help it if humans are ugly," Zim said, then stood stiff with his arms out to his side. "I mean, hey. Do you want me to be dissected? Huh? They'll come after you next, you know, and- AAAAAH!!!" This last was sparked by a blue beam of light sweeping over his body, then abruptly disappearing.

"Subject name: Irken Defective Zim," the computer rattled off, ignoring Zim's indignant cry of 'That's Irken Invader Zim to you!' "Height: Two feet, eleven and a half inches."

His eyebrows furrowed. "I'm three feet even."

"No, you aren't."

"I've always been three feet."

"No, you haven't."

"Stop trying to fade me!" Zim screeched, his claws working in midair.

"Uh..."

He tapped his foot, waiting.

Finally. the computer said "Weight: Twenty-and-a-half pounds body, ten pounds Pak. Eye color: Magenta."

"I know what color my eyes are," Zim said with a blink, spreading his hands out. The computer ignored him.

"Gender: Male. Specimen has a mild birth defect causing it to have blurry vision at close range. This defect has been corrected by standard-issue ocular implants."

"Ooh. You're good," Zim said, raising his antennae. "That was way back in the academy."

"Specimen's digestive system has been contaminated by a level five toxin."

He froze. Level five. But. "That's a... deadly toxin."

"Yeah, it is. The specimen's Pak is counteracting the toxin." Oh, okay then. "Estimated time of death: four days from now."

Zim gasped, his antennae flattening to his head. His breathing quickened and his already pale skin got paler. "WHAT? Me? DIE?" Granted, he'd recovered from life-threatening injuries before, but it hadn't been pretty... "In four days? But- h-how is that counteracting the toxin?!"

"Well, if it wasn't counteracting it you'd have died five minutes ago."

Zim looked down at his shaking hands, a low series of panicked, panting grunts starting in his throat.

"What counteractive measures can be taken? What if I throw it up?"

"It's mostly been absorbed already."

Shoot! He should have thrown up sooner! "What antidotes are there? What kind of toxin is this?"

"I don't know, some kind of newfangled Earth toxin. No antidote."

"I can't DIE! I haven't even finished the mission! No! NO!" He ran to the large computer panels covering the far half of the room, panting. "No! No! I'll make an antidote. Yes. Yes."

Zim began to gather equipment, his tone lowering to rambling mutters.

"It'll be fine. I can't die. I am- I am Zim. Yes." His tone rose to a shout. "I am ZIM! I can do this. I will do it nine times if necessary! This toxin won't get the best of me! NEVER!"

4:23 PM

Dib leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. Onscreen on his laptop, a pretty little animation of red blood cells going through a laser scanner was playing.

Dad makes weird software, he thought for the umpteenth time.

A little bell sounded as the scan finished. A popup window popped up. Dib leaned forward, reading.

Subject name: Dip Putchel.

Stupid thing never got his name right.

Height: Four feet. Weight

He scrolled down a little.

Specimen has contracted a strange mutagen of unknown origin, and is mutating into a freak. Estimated time of mutation completing: four days from now.

Dib screamed.

“SHUT UP, DIB!” Gaz yelled from outside his room, and there was a thump against the door as she threw her shoe.

Dib rolled his eyes, leaned forward and began madly typing. He’d have to make an antidote, that was all there was to it!

6:26 PM

Zim was still working on the antidote.

He'd managed to isolate the toxin. (And yes, it was human in origin.) That was it. Everything he'd tried to neutralize it so far had failed.

He hissed and dropped the measuring tool he'd been using on the table. "I can't believe this! This is stupid!" Translation: he didn't like it.

He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. Normal Irkens could work constantly for days on end, as their Paks took care of their physical needs. Zim had a short attention span.

"This stinks!" he snapped. "Computer, take me upstairs. Now!"

The floor began to rise underneath him and Zim tapped his foot restlessly, scowling. It all came back to Dib, of course. Curse that boy.

He stepped off the platform into the kitchen, huffing. GIR was nowhere to be found. Minimoose was sitting on the couch, watching the Sonnfield. Or the... Shawnfold. Something like that.

"Minimoose, turn that off," he ordered curtly. He hated the Seenfuld. More than even the Scary Monkey.

Minimoose squeaked petulantly.

"No. Turn it off. I need to check to see if the Tallest sent a message."

The tiny, floating fake moose sighed and turned it off. Zim moved in front of the screen. "Computer, message screen."

The screen fuzzed with static, then changed to a screen that looked an awful lot like AOL mail, only in purple and with Irken symbols on everything. Zim had three new messages. He leaned forward, glancing them over.

from sylviad384799 at hotmail dot com subj IT REALLY WORX!! INCREASE BUST SIZE 3x IN TEN DAYS!!!

Having misread the subject, Zim wondered why on Irk he'd want a bigger butt, then read it again, rolled his eyes and said "Delete that first message."

It disappeared.

from agentmothman at swol"DELETE THAT CRAP!" Zim snapped without bothering to read the subject.

The message disappeared.

"Crap deleted," the computer said boredly.

from tallest at irknet dot emp subj IMPORTANT NOTICE TO ALL INVADERS

Zim's eyes lit up and he bounced up and down, clapping. "An important notice!" He said it the way a little kid might say 'A pony for me!'

"Dear Irk, have some dignity," the computer said.

"Shut up. Open that message!"

It had taken Zim a while to realize he wasn't getting the emails the other Invaders got, but once he did realize it he did a neat and expert little bit of hacking (it would, incidentally, have scared the crap out of the Tallests if they knew he could do that) and got himself on the mailing list. The email he'd just received reads as follows:

Hello, Invaders!
Most of you have long finished your missions by now (Zim squirmed and muttered) but if you're one of the pathetic few who haven't, good news!

Zim's antennae stood up.

You're not useless to us.

"I know I'm not!" Nice to hear it though.

You see, we Tallest are looking to start the next phase of Operation Impending Doom 2 and we need your help! If you're stationed on a planet at the edge of what us Irkens have mapped out

Zim grinned, clasping his hands together. Earth was really far afield. He was perfectly suited to this mission!

it'd be really fantastic if you could leave your base for a day and go scouting for new Invasion targets.

"Of course I can!" He bounced up and down. The computer groaned. "I'll leave right away!" He turned and ran into the kitchen. "Computer, Voot bay!"

"But sir, that anti-"

"VOOT BAAAY!"

"All right! Sheesh!"

A/N: All right, done. In regards to update schedule, I have some... weird co-ordinating-with-another-fic things going on so I'll be updating this daily for a while, then it will switch to weekly. You may pretend you care.

A hearty thank you to JoyWillCome for beta reading. Her fics are better than mine too btw, go read them.