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Chapter One: Only Another Fight
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There he was again. The very scum the prevailed to plot his schemes created to make his life harder than it was already. There he was the very thing that had come from a planet 6 months away, only to have a 'mere boy' be the one other thing in his way. There he was, the green waste-of-space splotch whose one goal was to enslave the planet they walk on and destroy him.
There he stood once more. The very Earthanoid that continued to revoke him of every possible victory, every possible take-over. There he was, the hyuman he'd met six years ago, who devoted his every waking moment to prevent every plan to conquer Earth at first look at the alien. There he was, the pale and skinny, disliked by most everyone worm-baby that would have achieved victory if only he defeated the alien.
They both hated each other... right?
Yet another glance up at the clock on the wall; only four minutes until seventh period was over. His attention snapped back towards the left side of the classroom. He glared daggers at the menace from space, wishing he could will him to disintegrate with his eyes.
Three minutes.
He turned toward his right, the feeling of being watched growing too strong to ignore. Like the anxiousness in the pit of his squeedily-spooch predicted, the weakling was glaring at him once again. He glared back, going along with the usual scenario. Thoughts of experiments and testing and blades cutting through flesh came to mind and he smiled. His satisfaction would soon enough come.
Two minutes.
He scowled upon seeing his grin. What could be making him so glad, so joyful right now? What was going on in his head? Anger seethed and boiled up inside as the alien's cheer continued on. It made him sick, and he'd soon vent his anger on every bone, every inch of plasma on his green body.
One minute.
His smirk widened when his enemy scowled at his pleasure. Curiosity filled the golden brown eyes of the Earthling as he continued to look daggers into him. In less than sixty seconds they would both be able to show what they were thinking through a dance of violence on the pavement outside. They'd both been waiting for it, wanting it, needing it all day long.
The bell rang shrilly and they were the first out of their desks. They practically ran to their lockers, throwing certain textbooks into their bags, and racing outside. Out in the middle of the street, they threw their bags down onto the ground. Though they didn't immediately begin hitting at one another or swinging fist. Part of the fun was psychologically damaging the enemy.
"Dib-stink."
"Alien scum." They each smiled at the names thrown out into the open. They might actually skip ahead to the deep-cutting word plays, having restlessly awaited this moment. That's exactly what they did.
"You're worthless, hyuman," he began, "Your own father doesn't even care about you; you're just a waste of space." He smiled in satisfaction when the fists of the Dib-stink clenched.
"Well at least the people I trusted didn't ship me off hoping I'd die!" A great recovery after what the reptile had said to him. After this, they exploded. Insults and threats shot through the air, causing more tension and anger. Only thirteen minutes and forty-eight seconds after the arguing started, the fight began.
Zim threw the first clenched fist, aiming right for Dib's huge, leviathan head. He only dodged the attack, countering with swing to Zim's side. The alien fell to the ground on his back, refusing, though, to cry out in pain. From the ground he kicked Dib in the face.
This is how it went on. Hits and kicks, punches and swings, counters and falls. Soon it came to the claws, to the blood falling to the pavement. Soon it came to bruises, to the sound of bones breaking. Soon it came to breathlessness; a point where both alien and human could go no further. A point where both of them cancel each other out; a point where neither of them wins. A point where both of them have lost.
One will clamber from the dirt, spitting out blood onto the black top, and come to stand. The other will instantly follow, refusing to be the weaker one. From there they weakly glare at one another, each muttering an insult. They'll each grab their bags and limp home, secret satisfaction inside each of them.
They'll clean themselves off, acting as if nothing had happened. They'll prepare themselves, wanting more, and oh they'll be hell to pay. Because what just went on, what mere squabble that just took place, was only a warm-up. What just went on was nothing; just a simple little battle. Now that it was the weekend, now that it was spring break, there was going to be a war.
And what better thing to fuel said war?