Dib limped into the classroom, glancing up to scowl at Zim. The bottom of his shirt and pants were in tatters from an explosion. One that, yet again, no one had seemed to notice. Zim smirked back at his scowl.

"Nice try, Dib-stink, but you can't defeat the AMAZING ZIIM!" he yelled, laughing, but at the end turned into a cough. "What are you looking at?" he snapped at Dib when he noticed him looking at him strangely. Dib just turned away and went to his seat.

"Dib! You're late!" Ms. Bitters snapped.

"Sorry, Ms. Bitters, but-"

"You have detention!" she cut him off. "You're all DOOOOOMED! You will all eventually die, so get used to this! Today we will learn about the many ways that people can die..."

Dib quickly tuned her out and returned to his usual pastime in Skool: watching Zim. Today Zim was just... sitting there, staring at Ms. Bitters, apparently listening intently. His brows raised and lowered expressively, and he pulled out a thick, leather-bound notebook and began scribbling furiously. Dib had never seen him writing in it before, and he was dying to see what he was writing. Probably on all the ways that Humans could die. The way he was writing was strange, though. He would start in a seemingly random place and then fill out the rest of the paper with, from what Dib could see of his hand moving, circles.

Zim never once looked up from his writing, not even when the bell rang for lunch, and then to go outside. He walked slowly off to a remote corner of the yard, still scribbling like mad. When the bell sounded for them to go back to class, he glanced up and snapped the dark brown book closed, tucking a length of maroon ribbon in to save his page. Dib was going to snatch it from him when he ran past, but was disappointed when he shoved it up his shirt and sprinted towards the building, clutching at his chest so it didn't fall out.

Zim spent the remainder of class on what appeared to be a cell phone. He was fiddling with it and kept pulling out tools to modify it in some minuscule way. He would zap it or something, type in a number, hold it to the side of his head, then try to fix it again.

"Zim! Is that a phone I see?" Ms. Bitters hissed, swirling over to Zim.

"No, Ms. Bitters!" Zim slipped it into his pocket.

"Don't lie to me! Give me the phone!" Zim lowered his head and put it in her outstretched hand. "For that, I will incinerate it, and you get detention!" she floated over to her desk, where a square opened up, showing flames licking up through the hole. She dropped the phone in and it closed with a bang. She quickly went back to her lecture about dying. Zim glared at her and pulled out the notebook again, writing even faster than before. He barely registered when the end bell sounded, only looking up when Torque smacked the back of his head. Then he shoved it back up the front of his shirt and stayed put for detention.

"Zim, Dib, scoot over one!" Ms. Bitters ordered. They moved over one seat, so that they were sitting in the middle next to each other. She took out some dictionaries and slammed them down on the desks in front of them. "Begin memorizing these dictionaries! You've got an hour." she slithered back to her desk and sat down, watching them like a hawk. They sighed and began to read. About twenty minutes later, Zim's hand shot into the air.

"What is it, Zim?" Ms. Bitters growled.

"I'm done memorizing mine, Ms. Bitters." Zim responded, smiling triumphantly at Dib.

"Really now, then tell me what 'pleach' means."

"To braid, Ms. Bitters."

"Fine. You have to stay until Dib is done, though." She shifted in her throne-like chair.

Dib looked down at the book in his hands. He was only on page 3,603,897, not even halfway through! How did Zim do that? Shaking his head, he began to read faster, until he felt something lightly rest on his hand. Surprised, he looked up. Resting on the back of his hand was a tiny slip of paper. JUST SKIM OVER THE WORDS. It read in Zim's handwriting. Dib glanced over to Zim, who nodded slightly at him. Dib looked back at the page, eyes flicking quickly over the words, not really absorbing anything. With just a minute to spare, he was done. They quickly handed back their dictionaries and headed out of the building.

"How did you do that?" Dib demanded once they were outside.

"Huh? Do what?" asked Zim, genuinely confused.

"How did you read that so fast?"

"My PAK allows me to absorb information quickly, and I can recall anything that I've done, said, or seen in perfect detail, like a movie, in front of my eyes." Zim nodded.

Dib eyed him warily. He had given up the information too easily. "Okay... then tell me... tell me..." Dib thought for a moment. He couldn't come up with anything. "… the first thing you said to the class."

Zim's fake amethyst eyes unfocused for a moment, then: "'Hello, friends.' Was that really the best you could come up with?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Stupid human earth monkey!" He exclaimed. "You shall all PERISH under the WRATH OF THE GREAT ZIM!" He laughed evilly, but at the end it turned into a cough again.

"Guess what?" Dib said.

"What?"

"I hate you!"

Zim rolled his eyes as they split ways, Zim turning left while Dib went right.

xxxXXXxxx

When Dib got to his room, he quickly took out his laptop and hopped onto his bed, and began firing the machine up. Once the start up sequence ended, he connected to the many cameras in Zim's Base. Five separate sections came on, the sixth only crackling with static. He folded his arms in front of him and rested his chin on them, staring at the screen. He perked up when Zim, undisguised, walked into view of camera 5. Dib clicked a key, and the footage of camera 5 filled the screen.

It was in the lab. Zim walked over to a table covered in neat racks of colorful vials. He selected a clear vial, then opened a drawer below and pulled out a syringe. He set the vial down in a smaller, empty, rack, then pulled out a large measuring cup, made of glass, and it didn't have a handle. He scanned the other tubes of liquid for a second, then reached into the back and pulled out a large vial, filled with dark green liquid. Using both hands, he poured about two inches of the stuff into the measuring cup. Next he took out a long, thin, shiny needle from the drawer and placed it in the green solution, submerging it completely. He took the stopper end out of the syringe and poured a bit of the clear stuff into it, quickly sealing it up once more. Pulling the needle out of the cup, he dried it off and inserted it into the small end of the syringe. Ah, so that green liquid was disinfectant. He tugged one of his gloves off and rolled up his sleeve until it reached the middle of his upper arm. He clenched his jaw and slipped the needle into the soft crook of his elbow and slowly injected the contents of the syringe into his system. He slowly, agonizingly, pulled the needle out, the metal tugging at his green skin. Finally, it was out, and he quickly cleaned up, pouring the bit of the green stuff down a sink. When he was done, he paused for a second, examining his claws. He then shrugged, slipped his glove back on, then stepped into an elevator, the platform lifting him up out of view through the clear tube.

Dib had been watching in mute disgust. What was he doing? Shaking his head, Dib clicked another button and the screen went back to the six frames. He kept staring at the screen, until Zim scuttled back into view of camera 5. This time all he did was take a glove off, and open the drawer. He pulled out a small metal thing with a tiny needle on one end. He put a small vial into the other end, then pressed the end with the needle to his palm. There was a click! and he removed it from his palm, taking a length of clear fabric off of a roll and wrapping it around his hand to cover the wound. The fabric clouded, then turned the color of his skin. Satisfied, he pulled the glove back on and put everything away, going back up the elevator, bringing the metal thing with him.

Dib frowned. Was he taking blood? Excited now, he scanned the other frames to see if his enemy appeared in one of them. There he was, in camera 2. Dib made the frame fill the screen again.

Zim walked up to a bank of computers and screens. "Computer, analyze this blood sample." He pulled out the tiny vial to reveal his bright pink blood. A part of the compter banks slid out from the wall, revealing a petri dish. Zim poured his blood onto the disc, and the part slid back in.

"Analyzing..." the Computer said, and a bar appeared on screen. Loading... 1%... 5%... Zim sat back to wait.

So, yeah! I will try to update this soon, and if anyone wants to read my other stories, feel free to! About Ax Man, it's better than it seems. Trust me, it isn't just another cliche 'the Armada is trying to take over the world.' Oh, no. It's MUCH better than that. ~ |: zuzu