This is an entry for Heartofstone15's "Battle Royal" contest. The rules for the contest are in the "Battle Royal" community listed under Invader Zim Communities if you want to enter.
In accordance with the rules I will list the characteristics of my competing character below.
Name: Sancho Rodriguez
Physical features: He is an 18-year-old Latino male with spiky black hair. One of his legs was removed in a surgery that took place in his infancy. In chapter one he wears a black shirt, black sandals and a pair of black and green bondage pants. In chapter two the Irkens take his clothes and equip him with armor and a modified prosthesis. The armor covers his chest, shoulders and remaining leg. It is silver to match the modified prosthesis. He wears the boxer shorts that he had on when he was abducted, which are black with little skulls on them. In chapter three Sancho's hair gel has worn off and his goth complexion has darkened considerably because of desert sun. He is injured from his first battle and has many small cuts on area of his body that are not covered by armor. There is a horizontal flesh wound on his stomach just above his belly button, which is deeper and more sever than the rest. He is also covered in Cal's cactus needles. Eventually he ditches the amour on his chest and shoulders because it is slowing him down.
Personality: He's introverted, not really shy, but easy going. He is usually relaxed, and hates to be hungry or inconvenienced. He sometimes speaks with a slight accent because both of his parents are from some other place originally and they have accents. He's also part of the counter culture Goth fad (because this is the mainstream youth culture of the "Invader Zim" universe). He considers himself a Satanist, but is not part of any organized Satanist group. As a kid he was a bully, but when he got older he withdrew into himself and became socially isolated. He wanted people to be afraid of him so that they wouldn't bother him and he could be left alone. He's a little bit strange, and sometimes says strange or socially awkward things.
fighting style: Sancho is physically strong, but possess not strategic fighting skills. He will punch and kick randomly and occasionally throw things.
Abilities: He knows how to shoot a gun or a laser(Because the Earth of "Invader Zim" is obviously set in the post apocalyptic future, and they definitely have lasers). Also, he has the Irken prosthesis that was surgically attached to his stump at the beginning of chapter two. This prosthesis allows him to walk or run normally (which was not a possibility for him before, since his leg was amputated above the knee) It is a larger version of a sir leg, and is silver with a glowing blue joint. When he jumps a blue flame appears underneath of the foot, allowing him to propel himself a considerable distance, and sometimes briefly hover. There is a compartment in the calf of the leg, where he can store weapons.
Age: 18 years old
Something noteworthy: He's the nephew of Chewy Rodriguez from the "Chicken Foot" episode. He is also a senior in high school and works as a cashier at the Crazy Taco. This is a really degrading, humiliating job and he wants to quit but his mom won't let him because she needs the money to keep the crappy little apartment that they live in. Sancho's mother is named Maria and she is a short, plump woman in her early forties. She is a religious fanatic, and keeps a shrine to her dead son with many candles and pictures of Jesus surrounding it. Sancho's father is a violent, abusive, alcoholic. He is in his late forties and looks like Sancho, but older and with grey hair. Sancho made an appearance in an intergalactically produced documentary called "Fast Food on Foreign Planets." This film was created and distributed solar systems away from Earth, and Sancho has never seen it. However, some of the aliens he meets have seen it, and occasionally reference it.
Tee hee. I never get tired of being this lame. I also should mention that there will be more than one OC in this, because obviously I can't use the cast of the show. All of the characters will be original (Except for the Almighty Tallest, miner invaders, Resisty freedom fighters, and Chickenfoot.) Sancho, however, will be the only character of mine fighting.
Chapter 1 (Sancho's POV)
It's been about six months since crazy uncle Chewy locked himself in his apartment with a bunch of happy meal toys and live chickens. I saw him a few days ago digging through the dumpsters behind my house, wearing a Mr. Chickylicky costume that smelled like some unholy mixture of body odor and human feces. When he noticed that I was watching him, he feel out of the dumpster, screaming some nonsense about how he was "a mass of chickeny evil" before briefly pawing the ground with his plastic chicken shoes and sprinting off into the distance.
The incident made me fear for my sanity, because, you know, mental health issues are genetic. I also have a cousin who has made a career of talking to heads of lettuce. She guest stared on a few episodes of "Mysterious Mysteries", and is best known for her theory that a moldy Caesar salad from "Nasty Burger" is in fact Napoleon in his reincarnated form.
My text book from world history class says something about a massive chemical spill that took place in the year 2047 (But those books are so inaccurate that the event might have taken place years before that or years afterward. It's also possible that it never actually happened.) Supposedly, there was this factory that made rat poison...and some how it exploded. Some of the poison evaporated into the air, turning the sky that dark rusty color that it is today. The rest of it went into the water, and mutated all of the fish.
So I guess I've been drinking poison my whole life, and probably breathing it too.
According to my textbook there was a magical time period, before the year "2047", when there were a lot less people born with deformities and genetics disorders. There were also not so many crazy people.
Mama says she whishes I was born before that year. Then she likes to asks me if I whish that I was born before that year, and I usually say something like: "Well...I probably wouldn't have this prosthetic leg if I was born back then...but I also wouldn't have floating holographic projector screens, hunting lasers, and super toast, so year I'm pretty happy in this time period. And there's no magic time machine lying around anywhere so you should be too." The last time I said this she got pretty upset, and ran downstairs crying. This seemed like an over reaction to me, but I'm not going to try to understand it. It's probably just mold madness, like how the homeless people get when they rave about moose.
I thought about this for awhile, while I was behind the house, watching the dumpsters. I was hoping that Chewy would come back so that I could convince him to eat some food (non-dumpster food) and possibly take a shower. I wasn't sure how I was going to do this, but it seemed like a good thing to do. Maybe he would listen to me if I pretended I was a chicken.
I heard some rustling sounds near the back of the house. They might have been Chewy scraping his plastic chicken feet around in the hypodermic needles and broken glass behind one of the dumpsters.
"Chewy?" I mumbled, creeping closer to the dumpster that was the source of the noise. I spoke quietly because I didn't want to scare him away. "Chewy, is that you?"
Chewy didn't reply. I crept closer to the dumpster.
"Chewy...um...do you think you might want to...I don't know...come inside? We have food...I mean grain...I mean what chickens eat."
I could still hear that scuffling behind the dumpster.
"Um...," I said as I approached the back of the dumpster. "I think that maybe-AAAAAaaaaAAAAGGGGHHHHhhh!"
I felt something cold and metallic wrap itself around my waist several times, tightening around my ribs so that I felt like I might snap in two. It happened in about the space of a second, and the next instant, before I could even grasp what was happening to me, I was being pulled into the sky, soaring upward so quickly that the city seemed to melt into streaks of red and gray.
I opened my eyes, slowly, when I realized that I had stopped moving. The room around me came slowly into focus. The complicated systems of pipes, wires, levers, and buttons seemed to spin as I fought the nausea brought on by the...the...what ever the hell just had just happened to me.
I heard a small voice shout: "Look! Florg! I caught one! See! See! I caught one!"
Then I felt something poke me. I rolled onto my other side to see what it was, and the cold metal thing that was wrapped around my waist (it seemed to be some sort of a metal tube) unraveled, recoiling back into one of the metal walls. Then I saw the thing that had poked me, a little green man, with large pink eyes and black antenna.
"See! See! It twitches when I poke it! Lookatit TWITCH!" the little green man shouted. He jumped up and down a few times, pointing at me and grinning like I was some kind of a prize.
A second green man walked in from the opposite side of the room where there were a couple of black chairs built into the floor in front of a telecommunicator screen and a large window. He was shorter than the first one and very fat. His eyes were a slightly darker shade of green than his skin.
"Nob, you imbecile th-," it began in a slightly deeper voice than his companion. He stopped in mid sentence when he saw me, and his eyes lit up like I was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. "You actually caught one, and it's not deformed or nuthin'! I can't believe it!" He pulled on one of my arms and then let go of it so that it fell back into its previous position, draped over my stomach. "He's strong too. I've never seen one this healthy."
I lifted myself slowly into a sitting position, and lurched forward, spewing vomit on to the floor of what I assumed was their space ship. I had watched enough bad sci-fi movies on the Scyifyiee Channel (author's note: That's right that channel is even more misspelled now.) to know that that little green men with antenna are usually aliens.
"Ew, it's all nasty and oozy," said Nob taking a step backward so as to put a comfortable distance between himself and the pool of vomit. "Do you think it always does this?"
"Yea. Whatever. I don't know. Who cares," said Florg. I let him pull on my other arm, and let it fall back to my side when he let go of it.
"It has good arms," Florg observed.
"Thanks, I work out." I said.
"It talks!" exclaimed Nob. He jumped up and down and pointed at me again. "Lookit dat, Florg, can TALK!"
"Who cares if it can talk," said Florg. He took the black sandal off of my right foot and started counting my toes. "Talking won't win us no monies and be-OH COME ON!" Florg turned to Nob, a look of exasperation swept over his green face and one of his green eyes began to twitch violently. He seemed to have noticed my prosthetic leg, which had previously been hidden beneath the cloth of my black and green bondage pants. "What's up with his leg, Nob? Huh? You said we weren't deformed."
"He's not deformed. He's a male. Males have that third little one-Oh wait you mean his leg leg."
"Yes, Nob, I mean his "leg leg," Florg repeated sarcastically. "He's a cripple. How the hell are we supposed to win any monies when our alien is a cripple?"
"Cripple is a mean word," I mumbled quietly. Both aliens ignored me.
"Well I still think he's neat," argued Nob. "And male humans are a lot stronger and faster than female humans so this one should last a lot longer than our last entry."
"What do you mean last a lot longer?" I interjected in a small horrified voice. "What happened to the female human?"
"I bet he could pick up a whole space ship and lift it over his head!" insisted Nob excitedly.
"I really can't do that," I said.
Nob didn't seem to believe me: "-And then crush it into a little ball with those five fingered hands and throw it like it was nothing!" he finished.
Florg narrowed one of his green eyes in a gesture that I assumed was the equivalent of the raised eyebrow expression.
"You're beginning to pique my interest," he said.
"And the missing leg," continued Nob. "Well, that's not a disadvantage at all. On the contrary, my short sighted friend...it's an opportunity to CHEAT! We can switch the human prosthesis with an advanced Erken one, with lasers and jets and all kinds of super cool neat stuff."
"Hmmm...," said Florg. "But that'll throw him off balance...we should cut off his other leg and give him two prosthesis'."
"What!" I shouted, standing up. "You can't take my leg! It's...it's the only leg I have! And I'm...I'm...USING IT!"
My eyes had misted over slightly at the "it's the only leg I have" bit. And suddenly a flood of "me and my one leg" memories came rushing back to me. There was me in middle school hopping around the playground and throwing rocks at the kids that were missing both of their legs and needed to be carted around in those lame robotic wheel chairs. Then there was me when I was slightly older kicking some homeless people that are always passed out on the sidewalk. Once I drew a face on my kneecap and named it Bob.
"Get away from me!" I shouted, and suddenly the horror of being trapped on an alien spaceship was overcoming my senses, making me irrational, like the drooling monster that they imagined me to be. "Don't touch me! Come near me and I swear to Satan I'll rip this spaceship up like it was um...PUDDING!
I clenched my fists in a defensive gesture, instinctively lowering my center of gravity so that it would be hard for them to knock me over if they decided to jump on me.
"It's yelling now," said Florg in a tone of annoyance. "I liked it better when it didn't talk."
I turned and ran toward the large window that was seated in front of the two black chairs. The sky outside was no longer a red earth sky streaked with clouds. It was now black and speckled with stars. I pressed my hands against the glass in a gesture of hopelessness, as I watched the blue sphere that was Earth shrink into the distance.
"See I told you it was strong!" exclaimed Nob excitedly from somewhere behind me. "It can turn stuff into pudding!"
"Yea. Sure. What ever. Let's zap it before it turns something important into pudding," said Florg.
I felt a pair of metal prongs press against my spine, and before I had an opportunity to react a wave of electricity surged through my body. There was pain. Then paralysis. Then nothing.
Not many people know this about me, but I was born a conjoined twin, and for the first nine months of my life I shared my right leg with a freakishly deformed "twin brother".
He didn't live long enough for us to know if he would ever be capable of speech, but I remember him pretty vividly. His arms and his left leg were twisted up like curly fries, and his face was all shriveled like some nightmarish prune. They had to do a surgery to separate the skin on his eyelids, but they didn't do that great a job, and his eyes looked all lopsided and freaky.
His name was (is) Felipe and he is currently floating in a jar somewhere in the basement of my house surrounded by a bunch of freaky candles and pictures of Jesus. My mother used to spend a lot of time down there crying, and holding the jar. She always called it her "baby".
This was a great reason for me to avoid the basement, and usually I did. There was, however, one occasion when my curiosity got the best of me. I was about seven, and I decided that for some reason (It was a stupid reason I'm sure.) I really wanted to see the jar. When I went down there I saw a bunch of melted red, black, green, and purple candles in a circle around this thing that was covered in a red cloth. I crept to the center of the circle, stooped down and pulled the cloth off of the jar, then screamed like I was being murdered because that little corpse was the scariest thing I had ever seen. It was preserved perfectly in formaldehyde, but the face was twisted, and the eyes were jagged holes in its lopsided skull. The only thing that was normal about it was its perfectly formed left leg. That leg that the surgeon in his infinite wisdom had awarded my grotesque brother. The leg that should have been mine.
I had a lot of nightmares about my brother after that day, and as I lay unconscious on the floor of that alien space ship...I found myself going back to the basement. The candles were still there, they're flames flickered brightly, illuminating the paintings of Jesus that my mother had put down there. There was Jesus on the cross. Jesus on a pony. Jesus with the disciples. Disco Jesus.
My brother was standing there, at the center of the ring of candles. He was my age now, and if it weren't for his hunchback, he would have been exactly my height.
"What are you doing in my head, Philippe?" I shouted at him. "I thought I told you to get out of my head!"
Philippe stared at me from those hideous gashes in his head that barely resembled eyes. I wondered if he could see me.
"I don't want to ever see you in my dreams, Philippe. I never want to see you. Ok. Never."
"...I...you...the doctor gave me this leg because," Felipe replied. His voice was like mine but slightly distorted by the abnormal shape of his mouth, and the horrible agony that had to come with being so hideously deformed. "I'm the good brother...you're...you're the bad brother."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're bad...your an evil son-of-a-bitch, Sancho," moaned Philippe.
"I'm a cripple because of you, you hideous freak. Get out of my head!"
Philippe stared at me for a moment with those eyes that were exactly the same shade of brown as mine and then exploded into a pile of fried chicken.
I woke up.
"It's awake," said Florg. He seemed to be standing at the opposite end of a glass tube. It took me a moment to realize that I was the one in the glass tube and he was the one standing outside of it, looking in at me.
"Well, put it back to sleep," said Nob. "I'm not done working on it yet."
I felt another electric shock, and my consciousness left me again.