A/N: o-o

What should I say? Uhm... Thought of this while listening to Nickleback ((Nickleback=3)) Just another One-shot. I think I have a good idea for a chapter story, though. Imma get someone to read it over when I write it. w

Warning: Violence. Yaaaay VIOLENCE!

Disclaimer: Don't own Invader Zim. -

It had taken a while, but he had fixed the Dib-bot, and he'd let it run free. It had been an attempt to mess with The Dib-thing, just like all the others. It even had the same characteristics—being that it was just an attempt.

Had it actually worked, The Dib wouldn't have been standing in front of him holding a blaster, another Dib tied up behind him. Dib with the blaster was smirking, and Dib who was tied up was squirming around.

"Thought I wouldn't find out what it was, Zim? Please," The Dib grinned manically, and Zim returned the grin with his trade-mark cocky smirk.

"I'm not a ROBOT! UGH!" The Dib who was tied up was shouting, trying desperately to get free of the restraints. Dib with the blaster laughed, and Zim raised a brow. Who was the real Dib then?

He asked as much, only with his sneer, and some coarse language.

"Well, me, of course. D'you think a robot could beat me?" The Dib with a blaster said, loading the gun.

"Really, it's you?" Zim asked mockingly, and loaded his own gun.

"Figure that out all on your own?" Zim stared at him, unimpressed, and held his arms out away from himself, his gun hanging from one hand.

"Then shoot me. Go ahead, I won't stop you," Zim said. Dib who was tied up stared with wide eyes at Zim, and Dib with the blaster merely stared, and suddenly broke into a grin worthy of a maniac.

"No joke?"

"Won't even dodge," Zim grinned, and stared at both the Dibs, watching the one tied up squirm. The robot was programmed to protect, and not to harm him, specifically. Whoever acted first in a way that was un-Dib-ish would die.

The Dib with the blaster grinned, and held out his gun, but didn't fire. All was silent except for the movement of the Dib that was tied up. The Dib with a gun frowned, his hand shaking, but still didn't fire, and Zim knew exactly why. His grin grew more pronounced, but finally, two simultaneous shots rang out.

There was the sound like something of a firecracker going off, mixed with the sound of a watermelon breaking over concrete.

Zim stood, slightly crouched across from a headless Dib, his blaster smoking. A scorch mark was on the wall behind Zim, still smoldering. Red. Red was everywhere, spewing out of the headless body.

On everything. The walls, The Dib, and Zim. The body fell over--useless, and Zim grinned.

He closed his fingers and opened them, letting the fake blood there go from finger to finger. His greatest achievement so far was ruined, but it was being disobedient—it's remote broken. A simple malfunction was all it took....

"How did you know?" Came the voice of the real Dib, and Zim smirked, walking over to the boy as he spoke.

"We have a very complicated game, you and I. Not just anyone can play, because our game is that of the most deadly proportion. The most deadly dance—if you will," Zim raised his hand as he reached the human, tap-tap-tapping his temple, "We're one of the very, very few on Earth who can comprehend the game we play, and we play it very precisely. Very complex as it is. The trick is," Zim's finger tap-tapped his temple quicker, "to 'know thine enemy.' Putting it simply—you wouldn't have hesitated.

"You being you, would have jumped at any opportunity to kill me. Not that it would have been that easy, of course," He grinned. Dib merely stared for a moment.

"Sometimes it sounds like this 'game' means a lot more to you than it does to me," Dib said, and Zim's smirk faltered for a moment. Just one malfunction...one glitch...is all it takes for something to be obsolete....

He quickly replaced it, though, and slowly lowered his hand, letting a claw slice through one of the parts of the rope. He took a step away, kicking the dead bodies' gun over to him, and turned to face the Dib.

"Maybe it does," he admitted, "Regardless--it's something to do," Zim aimed his gun straight at Dib, while the boy untangled himself from his bindings quickly, "Now pick up your gun, and let's play."

A/N: Wewt! Done! 8D Hope you al enjoy! (So short! 3)

Review, please! I survive by eating the awesomeness of your reviews! D8 (Can you believe this one wasn't heavily ZaDr? o3o At least, it wasn't supposed to be ZaDr-ish. Now that I look at it though...)

Until next time! SufferingThePretences - Signing Off!