A/N: YAY.

Yes, I didn't QUITE make it on time, but close enough to be happy. And yay! It's like I picked a special holiday update date! Let's pretend that's what happened.

Enjoy. :

Take On Me

an Invader ZIM/Lilo & Stitch/Buzz Lightyear of Star Command crossover fan fiction

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

To defeat my enemy, I must study my enemy, then become my enemy, then move in with my enemy, then wear my enemy's clothes, then-
~Dib

There are no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Chuck Norris lives in Texas.
~The Internet

11/3/97

4:23 PM

The child crept through the door, looking around with wary eyes behind thick, round glasses.

This strange, dark, alien space was like nothing the child had ever seen, clautrophobic, cluttered, plastered with deranged posters and filled with strange devices with unknown purposes. It smelled like something in here was burning.

Here be monsters, the kid thought, straightening the thick glasses, forming a cold scowl. This place was proof that that manic green 'child' was fundamentally wrong, and soon everyone would know it.

Visions of alien autopsies, newspaper headlines, glory. The child's father coming home to spend time with his brilliant offspring. Family.

Now was not the time to hang around and fantasize, there was a dangerous creature somewhere within this space. The child crept forward stealthily, drawing a small, innocent, brightly-colored camera in the same manner you'd draw a knife, and brandishing it like a weapon as well. One flash. Two flashes. Three. The alien surroundings captured for the world to see. What triumph then, the ultimate one-up, put-down. The child's face broke into a decidedly unchildlike grin.

Deeper into the lab, the place only became more overtly extraterrestrial. The evidence of alien experimentation lay scattered about under glass jars, in display cases. Strange machines, strange blueprints for more strange machines... and things in tubes, things that moved. The child froze, staring at a nest of things under a glass dome that looked like snakes, but weren't- it was impossible to tell what they WERE. Nothing of this world... and they had sharp teeth. They were writhing about- could they escape? What did they eat?

Depravity of this level was unexpected, even though it probably shouldn't have been. The child backed away with a hammering heart- then raised the camera. One flash. Two flashes. The popping of the flash seemed so condemningly loud in this small space, and, disturbed by either the light, the sound, or both, the not-snakes began to writhe, sending up a horrible keening sound of discomfort-

A voice rang out in the room. The child froze, breathing faster.

"WHAT IS GOING ON OUT THERE?" Strident and angry- the unmistakable, ridiculous, high-pitched voice of the alien. The child fumbled with the camera, trying to jam it out of sight in a pocket. "Oh, you worthless excuse for a minion, if you knocked that acid vat over again-" And footsteps. Footsteps coming closer. The child turned, looking for somewhere to hide, somewhere to escape from- and saw the alien approaching. And the child froze, dumbfounded, at the sight of the creature- even knowing they were there, seeing those huge, blazing jewel-like eyes was a terrible shock. And those terrible, inhuman scurrying movements- that horrible GREEN- and it had seen the child. Caught. Caught-

The child turned to run but the alien was faster. Faster and stronger. A viselike grip was on the child's shoulders, back slammed against the wall, forced to look into the monster's face- a face contorted with a violent, black rage the likes of which the child had never seen.

"You dirty little brat," the alien snarled, exposing jagged teeth. "Oh, no, don't tell me- don't patronize me. I know very well why you're here, Mertle Edmonds."

Mertle opened her mouth to scream, but a paw slapped over her face before she could get the sound out- a paw with the claws extended. Not digging in, but extended and lightly touching her skin. Her eyes widened as she saw her attacker had also sprouted another pair of arms, which meant more claws.

"Don't do anything rash," Kila said, her accent soft and seductive. "Don't make me hurt you..." The corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "Don't make trouble, now, we wouldn't want that, sweetheart."

Mertle shuddered. Had she told anyone she was going to be here? No, of course not... she didn't want anyone to know, she didn't want to be associated with these people.

"You fancy you know all about us, don't you?"

Mertle felt her eyes bulge with rage. Of course she did. Any idiot could see it. It was only to be expected from Lilo, the brat, the weird, unnatural little SNOT and her stupid blue dog- BLUE! Dogs weren’t BLUE!

"Oh, you bright little girl." Kila bared her fangs in an ironic smirk, and the camera was pulled from Mertle's pocket. The child watched in shock as the alien set one of her lower sets of claws into the back of the camera, popped it open, and began to methodically shred the film while seemingly not sparing the thing a glance. (Of course, with those horrible, pupil-less amber eyes it was hard to tell...) "You mother would be proud..." She raised an eyebrow. "And only your mother, I fancy, since I've never seen the other around."

Mertle grunted in shocked anger behind the muffling paw. How- DARE- she! Kila had probably been born in a tube somewhere!

Kila leaned in towards the child's face, her inhuman eyes expressionless. "You want to turn us in to the FBI, I suppose... maybe that paranormal network based in Michigan, the Swollen Eyeballs... or some tabloid somewhere. It doesn't matter. You want us all dead. It would be the ultimate revenge, the very best hurt, the most powerful mark you could make on a girl you loathe because she is happy with her family, and for all the money in the world..." The fanged smile was back. "You never will be..."

Mertle emitted another cry, her eyes filling with tears, a development the alien viewed with clinical detachment. "Yes, you cry... think of how orphaned Lilo would cry, if the only thing that matters was taken from her... then show me your tears and I might care. Ah, well..." She pulled something from her coat pocket, some small alien device. Mertle tried with all her might to scream as Kila entered in some kind of a code, then said "I had this for Pleakley, just in case, but you'll do as well. Hold still, sh'kido, this won't hurt a bit... more is the pity." There was a sensation of cool metal against Mertle's face... then... nothing.

3/1/03

5:23 AM

She could still remember when he’d first shown her this symbol…

She’d asked him about the medal he wore, the one she held now. It was a small, flat piece of glass marked with a symbol then unfamiliar to her. He’d been astonished at her lack of knowledge, then scoffed and said he’d forgotten she wasn’t Irken technology. (She would later understand this to be both compliment and insult- insult because he was implying she was inferior because she wasn’t Irken, the meaning she’d picked up on instantly and bristled at, and compliment because he had indeed forgotten she was supposed to be inferior.)

It was the mark of the Irken Invaders, he’d said with no little pride, and held it out for her to look at. She remembered his hands tracing over the image- he’d always had such small hands, smaller than her own. Small and fast. The short, clawed fingers had rested on the short, spiky depiction of Irken antennae at the top of the medallion, and he’d said they represented the amazing, powerful, infallible senses of the Invaders- they could sense any change in their environment within an instant thanks to their strong sense of smell and ability to detect motion, something, he said, that had saved his own life many a time. (Not that he'd ever really been in danger because he was Zim and could get out of anything, blah blah blah.)

Then he had pointed to the overall triangular shape of the symbol, saying it represented the highest ideal in Irken beauty- a pointed chin and wide forehead were considered superior. (His own face was rather square, something he most definitely did not mention.)

Then he had pointed to the single circle in the very middle of the circle and broken out into a grin, quivering with barely-repressed enthusiasm, his entire face lighting up with ecstasy and pride.

The single eye on the symbol, he said, represented the most important, most incredible tool of the Invaders, the awesome, unstoppable spell that came over any skaatel (a word she looked up later, it meant any creature that wasn’t Irken) that looked into Irken eyes.

She had asked for elaboration he was only too eager to provide in needlessly loud, excited tones. The Suggestion, he had explained, was what he was talking about- every Irken was born with the ability to appear to any skaatel as a member of that species. Of course, other Irkens would never be fooled, for they were too intelligent.

A skaatel would believe anything a strong Irken said if the Irken merely met their eyes and spoke quite clearly and loudly. The power varied among individuals- some could only just barely influence opinions, and some- and here, he gave her an immensely smug grin that made her wonder a little- some Irkens had the power to plant thoughts in other’s heads that had never existed, to tell any lie and be fully believed, to blow their cover completely and regain it in an instant with a single word- in short- to do almost anything, go almost anywhere among non-Irkens and never, ever be stopped.

And a strong individual- a very rare person indeed- could even change other Irkens.

Even the Tallest.

She had asked if Irkens had any other powers. He had snorted. No. Only dangerous, defective anomalies, more filthly than skaatelleeee. Every race had anomalies, even humans. Irken anomalies were executed. They were too dangerous.

Then he had taken her hands in his (and his hands were very warm, as well as very small) and told her once again how lucky she was to have fallen in with such a powerful race. The Irken Empire, he’d said, was the mightiest force in the universe, and his fierce dedication to his race was evident in his shining eyes, the loud (even louder than usual) intensity in his voice, the way he squeezed her hands.

The medallion with the Invader symbol on it was his most precious possession, never leaving his sight. When it was not displayed on his person it stayed in a pocket, or his Pak.

The past tense was the key here. Now, MALIK held the medallion.

She watched her reflection in it for a moment. Zim was not here to tell her about the medallion and the myriad ways it was important to him.

MALIK had no antennae and no Suggestion. She closed her eyes for a moment, then put the medallion on.

Irken or skaatel, she was going to skool.

3/3/03

4:13 PM

Zurg swept down the cavernous hallway with his cape swishing around his ankles. Yes, ankles. He'd already found out Star Command believed him dead, and he wasn't about to show them otherwise. From now on, an Irken named Gruz would be in charge of Planet Z.

Beside him was trusted Brain Pod 01. "My emperor," 01 said evenly. "I must once again-"

"Hey, who's the evil emperor here, huh?" Zurg rebuked, though mildly, as if a child nagging a sibling.

01 was silent.

Zurg grinned, steepling his fingers together. They were walking together in a deserted hallway. Most of his minions were off trying to find Irken refugees before Star Command could. The more beings under Zurg's thumb, the better. "This plan cannot fail. All my career I've been looking for a way to finally bring down the Galactic Alliance. And no weapon has ever been unstoppable enough. Oh, big enough, yes. Powerful enough. But not unstoppable. I've tried stealth and force and everything in between and the Tyrianga-Taim have matched my every move."

They stopped at a blank section of wall. Zurg looked over each shoulder, affecting boredom, then he touched the wall. A section slid away and he walked inside. "So I'm trying something new. Different. Something Star Command is unprepared for. Something no one has ever been prepared for."

01 gave him a cold look. "I must say, I still don't approve."

Zurg raised an eyebrow. 01 had been getting an attitude lately. After he finished this project Zurg would probably have him killed... make an example for any Irkens who might be too attached to their silly height hiearchy. Power was what was going to rule them now, power and fear. "Don't approve. Huh. You're a brain pod. It's your job to approve." They were down a narrow, dark hall now, passing cages with slumped, shadowy figures inside them, many wearing Star Command uniforms. They came to a stop in front of a specially reinforced cell.

Inside was a tiny, skinny figure with its arm in a sling and dried blood on its face. It had a thick, metal shackle around its neck, and it was sitting curled up in a corner with a relaxed, almost amused look on its face. It was scratching on the wall with the unhurt hand.

Zurg grinned. This was going to be... simply delicious.

"Once again," 01 said, "I must remind you that if even one of the Irkens finds this thing here, they will overthrow you. It was hard work convincing most of them to come with you in the first place, and we’ve already had deserters to Star Command." Oh, right, Zurg had been meaning to send assassins after those deserters. And one after Tak. "They want protection. They want protection from this."

"Did you hear that?" Zurg said lightly, addressing the occupant of the cell. "You're not very popular, I'm afraid."

"I don't like them either," the figure said in the high-pitched, scratchy voice of a nine-year-old boy with a sore throat. It sounded faintly pleased. It didn't look up and it didn't stop scratching on the wall with its claws.

Zurg leaned forward. "Good. Because as 01 so kindly pointed out, you are the most detested sentient creature alive. If you are seen by anyone but me, you will be killed instantly, with anything handy. I wouldn't mind getting my claws into you myself." He raised an eyebrow. "But I have plans for you, Zerinim."

"Zim." All amusement had fallen from the voice now, it was sharp and curt. "I am ZIM!"

Mm. Still some spunk to him. This WOULD be fun. "So be it. Zim. I have plans for you."

A wide grin appeared on the little man's face as he dipped his head, the shadows in the cell hiding his eyes. "Goody."

"I happen to know you should be dead by now. No Tallest in their right mind wouldn't have you executed. Yet you've survived three."

Zim still wouldn't look up. The creepy grin had returned. "I know."

Zurg raised an eyebrow. "There’s something special about you."

“I know.”

“Instead of pitching you out of an airlock, they let you play soldier for years. Even after ruining their biggest, most important military venture.”

“Oh, I know, Zoburg." He chuckled. "I know.”

“Why, Zerinim?” Zurg’s skin darkened. “And don’t start with that egotistical ranting, because I know very well your military skillset is nonexistent." His eyes narrowed. "It’s something else." His voice became slow, even. "There are rumors, Zim, that you forced the Tallest into doing it. Now, any Irken who can-“

"No."

Zurg jerked in surprise at being cut off. No one cut off Zurg. Not even this swelled-headed little piece of shorfa. "No what?"

"I refuse to work for anyone but my Empire!" Zim snapped. He still wouldn't look at Zurg. His scratching on the wall became faster and more frantic. His small shoulders tensed and quivered, his skin darkening. “Especially not you!”

Zurg chuckled. He couldn't believe Zim could still think he had any control whatsoever over this situation. "Your Empire, how precious." His tone took a sudden, sharp turn. "I am the Empire. Red and Purple are dead by your hand. Miyuki and Spork before them as well. You're a killer and a traitor in the eyes of your people. You are in no position to be so high and mighty."

The reply was simple. "You'll be next."

Zurg showed no loss of composure. "I've been threatened by experts, Zim. Experts meaning not scrawny, sick little pipsqueaks with their arm in a sling." Again, he showed absolutely no flickers on his face... despite Zim's cold, smirking stare and (your death will be no joke either) eerily dead eyes.

"You'll be next, Zoburg!" and now he wasn't scary at all. He was just squalling, petulant little Zerinim from Academy throwing another hissy fit.

Zurg folded his arms over his chest. "I'm so sure. Look, Zim. If you co-operate I'll ensure you're protected from your own species for the rest of your natural lifespan." He leaned forward, meeting Zim's wide, ruby eyes. "If you don't co-operate I'll force what I want out of you and throw you on the mercy of your brethren, whom I'm sure can think up a much cleverer torture than I. I haven't had to deal with you in eighty years."

"Do your worst!" he said with a toss of his head.

"I must remind you they'll rip you apart if you escape. I'm holing you up here for your own good."

"Sure yeah whatever." During the whole conversation, he had never stopped scratching at the wall and now Zurg realized he was making a picture, a simple, boxy face with big eyes, bad hair and glasses. How... cute. He was making cartoons.

"Just so we're clear." And Zurg turned and walked away, with 01 on his heels.

"That was all, Evil Emperor?" he said.

"Yes, it was all. I'll explain later."

"But-"

"No buts!" Zurg snapped, grabbing the door handle. "Just trust me."

They were walking out when they heard a horrible sound like nails on a chalkboard and Zurg whipped around to see Zim dragging his good hand across the picture he'd scratched into the wall. His claws were digging into the metal surface, his teeth clenched and his whole body shaking with effort.

"Goodness me," 01 said laconically. "Oh no, he'll cause no trouble at all."

Zurg kicked him.