A/n: Inspired by the song "When I am Queen" by Jack Off Jill.

When I am Queen.

By: thejennamonster.

She had given up on fitting in long ago. At one time she has been the perfect soldier--obedient, trusting, loyal, ambitious. She had followed everything to code, made sure every "i" was dotted, every "t" was crossed. She had lived, breathed, slept, and ate her empire. It was what defined her, what made her real, and eventually, it was what caused her downfall.

She had been Too loyal. Too trusting. She hadn't realized, when she had been assigned to that blasted planet that her leaders just. didn't. care about her. She hadn't realized when she had infiltrated and out-thought her enemy that her leaders weren't all that concerned with that piddily little assignment to start with. And she also hadn't realized that, when she failed at the mission she had set out to do, that her leaders would be unforgiving. Or that she would be punished.

"Janitorial Drone Number 540603, code named: Tak. You have been found guilty of the following crimes: leaving your assigned post with out permission or notification, disobeying orders, working outside of your predestinated station and lying to your superior officers when snacks are involved. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" "It wasn't my fault! I would have succeeded if it weren't for that disgusting human—"

"Let me get this straight, you were beaten not only by Zim, but by a Child of an Inferior Species, and you dare to use that as an excuse as to why you failed to bring us our snacks?"

"I like snacks."

"He LIKES snacks, Tak."

"But—"

"SILENCE! You are to be sentenced to the prison planet of Darfoon where you will spend the rest of your days. Dismissed."

And so she had been stripped of her dignity, her pride, and exiled. The thing about prison, however, is that it gives one time to think. To plot. To plan. Which is what she did. She spent what seemed like an endless amount of time planning her escape, and her revenge until finally the day was right, and she acted.

She was given one meal a day while in prison. One meal a day that was served to her on a rusty tray along with a rusty utensil. A rusty, sharp utensil. It only took a moment for her to pull the metal across her skin, digging deeply, the blood spraying across the walls of her cell in dark purple streaks. Her scream of pain was real and it was enough to draw the single guard to her cell where she lay prone on the floor, playing dead and trying not to laugh as he acted on his first impulse and let himself into the room without bothering to turn back on the force field when he entered.

She may have been coded a Janitorial Drone, but she had been trained as a soldier. As she sensed the guard near her, she sprung into action, catching him by surprise. The only sound to escape him was the sound of his neck snapping. Working with her good arm, she removed the guard's uniform, changing into it silently. She had chosen this guard in particular to attack because of his matching eye colour and she thanked genetic cloning for the fact that every member of her species looks more or less the same, making it easy for her to walk right out of the prison, and onto a transport ship back to the massive without a single incident. She had her wound sutured for her in the sickbay of the transport ship and she admired her new scar with a smile as she set about the last steps of her revenge.

The Tallests didn't even know what hit them.

They were alone in their quarters when she made her move. Red was her first target, being that she knew that, without his counterpart, Purple wouldn't put up much of a fight. A plasma blast to the back of his pak, another to his head, and he was no more. She laughed to herself about he simplicity of it all. Could it really be this easy?

Purple was huddled in a corner, his partner's blood covering him, as he whimpered pleas of mercy and forgiveness. She chuckled and leaned close enough to whisper, her lips caressing his cheek like that of a lover, "When I am queen I will insist with a perfect scar upon my wrist that everything you once held dear is taken away from you." She stroked his face, tracing macabre designs in the blood that smeared it, "When I am queen they will not see the patron saint of self-injury--the sores will heal themselves as I play the part of someone else." That said, the trigger was pulled and her gods were dead.

Holographic technology was amazing. All she needed was a little trace of DNA and she could be whomever she desired. Just a trace of her former leader's blood, just the hour or so that it took to hack into his dying pak and transfer its coding to her own, and she was finished. She was no longer Janitorial Drone Number 540603, but rather, the Tallest Purple, whose body she incinerated as soon as she was finished.

It was all she could do not to smile as she addressed her people, telling them the details about the assassination of her partner ruler. An assassination that had been carried out by an agent of an mostly unknown race, on a mostly unknown planet. The planet that would be the next to be consumed into the collective. The planet Earth. The final step in her plan for revenge was underway, and no one was the wiser. She had given up on fitting in long ago. She no longer had to. She was a god. She was queen.