Zim frowned in concentration, slowly lowering the laser towards the student bolted to the top of his desk. Behind him, the rest of the class huddled against the wall, terrified. There was a rustle and a sudden flash of black near Zim's desk.
"Zim!" Ms. Bitters hissed. "I will not have disembowlments in class. The school has to pay for the trauma therapy. Either wait until lunch or suffer. "
Zim frowned and shoved the small child into his desk. Ms. Bitters swooshed back to her desk, ignoring the petrified children against the wall.
"Children, today we are talking about the meaning of life. There is none. Life is pointless…."
The students slowly inched from the wall and retook their seats. After several minutes of Ms. Bitters' lesson, there was no movement except for the occasional eye twitch or drip of drool. Zim played idly with his laser, carving the Irken symbol into his desk. After having Bitters for 8 painful years (something relating to the skool budget), skool had become less about information retrieval and more about keeping tabs on Dib. Then, last year, Dib was gone- graduated. Zim didn't know what else to do except keep showing up.
Zim glanced out the window at a tree across the street. Most days he could see Dib in the branches, either clutching binoculars to his face or furiously writing notes, but the tree had been empty for the last few days. What was the Dib planning?
"The gophers! He knows about the gophers!" Zim yelled, leaping onto his desk. Every head in the class slowly turned to face him. He stared back blankly.
"Life has no purpose- go home now!" Ms. Bitters barked. The mass of teenagers ran out of the classroom shrieking and yelling. Zim noted with some irritation that, even standing on his desk, he was just barely as tall as his fellow students.
That was a point of contention for Zim. Surely someone as magnificent as Zim should have grown at least a little in the past 8 years. He shrugged and hopped off the desk. He considered bringing the child in his desk home to work on but decided to wait until the following week. His mission now was to find Dib before he found out about the gophers…
"Oh yes, Dib," Zim cackled. "You think you understand my gophers, but YOU WILL NEVER KNOW THE TRUTH!"
With a maniacal laugh, the Irken ran out of the room.
"Help meee..." whispered the tiny child in his desk.
Zim returned to his base. He ignored GIR, who was in the middle of watching that horrible show, and stepped into the trashcan. When he reached the main computer, he commanded,
"Computer! Activate tracking chip!"
The computer sighed, "Which one?"
"What do you mean?" Zim yelled, waving his arms in anger. "There's only one filthy human with a tracking chip!"
"Weeell," the computer moaned, "You remember when you decided to track pigeons in order to control the moon? There's a couple thousand birds with tracking chips in them."
"Oh yes," Zim murmured nostalgically. He'd forgotten about that one. That had been a most ingenious plan.
"Computer, activate oldest tracking device still in service!" Zim snapped.
The computer complied. A map of the city appeared with a small blinking dot appearing in the middle of it. Zim noted the location before climbing back into the elevator. When he reached the surface, he noted to his displeasure that it had begun to rain. Zim debated putting off searching for Dib but then thought about the gopher-related consequences. He growled and marched to the closet, pulling out a disgusting huuuman invention. Stupid and human as it was, this rain-repelling shield was the only practical way Zim could get out in the rain.
Zim poked the button to open the umbrella. Nothing happened. Infuriated, he whacked it against the wall. It popped open and knocked him onto the floor.
It was a severely pissed Zim that exited the house a few minutes later. Under the protection of the umbrella, he headed towards the location of the tracking chip.
Zim sneered in disgust. This section of the city was disgusting. He pulled out a small screen and checked the source of the chip. He was very close, a few blocks away. Zim was slightly confused. The gophers aren't located here. What is the worm-baby up to? Just then, Zim saw Dib emerge from a dingy shop a few blocks away. The boy pulled up his sleeve, inspecting something, though Zim couldn't see what. Dib abruptly pulled his sleeve back down and began walking down the street, straight towards Zim.
Zim waited for the meat boy to see him. He waited. And waited some more. Dib kept getting closer but didn't seem to see Zim. Deliberately, Zim stood right in the boy's path, confident he'd be noted. Dib pushed straight past him, not even blinking. Zim turned on his heel, furious.
"Dib-stink!"
Nothing. The boy kept walking. Infuriated, Zim picked up a small rock and flung it at Dib. It hit him squarely in the back. Dib straightened suddenly, hissing in pain. Zim frowned; he hadn't even thrown the rock that hard. Weak human. At least he'd gotten the response he wanted: Dib had turned around and was facing him.
"I know you know," Zim stated flatly. Dib stared blankly. Zim tapped his foot in annoyance.
"The gophers, Dib, you think you can stop me- BUT YOU CAN'T!" Zim laughed maniacally.
When he finished, Dib had already turned and begun walking down the steet. Zim snarled in fury.
"THAT'S RIGHT PITIFUL HUUMAN! Keep running! Fear Zim! The next time I catch you, you will suffer greatly! I will warp your very DNA so that not even your primitive computers recognize you!"
Dib froze. He turned around and began walking very quickly towards Zim. When he reached the Irken, he grabbed him by the shoulder tightly.
"Can you do that?" he asked, his voice haggard. Zim blinked. The human looked, well, dead. His normally pale skin was set off by the dark circles under the boys eyes. His eyes. They looked flat, dull. Zim shuddered and pushed the human's filthy hand off of him. He was acting too strangely. A spidery leg extended from the Irken's PAK. It jabbed Dib quickly in the arm. Dib staggered back, his eyes wide.
"W-what did you do, alien?" His legs collapsed beneath him before his mind fell into oblivion. Zim spoke into the communicator on his wrist, "GIR! I require assistance immediately!"
"Yes, my master!" GIR barked. Then he giggled. "I made fondue."
"GIR!" Zim yelled, exasperated. "Now!"
He switched off the communicator. Zim prodded the human with his foot. He was delighted at having finally captured the human but was distracted by Dib's unusual behavior. What is the human up to?
"GIR, place the human in the chamber!" Zim commanded from the control room. He watched the robot unceremoniously roll the boy into the center of the room before gleefully skipping out the door. Dib was beginning to stir, the sedative wearing off.
Zim flipped on the power switch, turning on the controls. This was the room he'd put the boy in many years ago in order to reveal Dib for the muffin-thrower he was. This time, however, instead of putting his mind in charge of the virtual reality projector, he instead linked the computers to the Dib's mind. He wanted to know what his foe was up to. He put on the goggles which put him into Dib's perspective.
Dib/Zim opened his eyes. It was dark. All dark. He was alone. Then a figure began to materialize near him. Dib/Zim recoiled in horror as a face came into view.
"No!" Dib/Zim cried as Professor Membrane appeared. "No! I ran away. You can't be here! Go away."
A gun materialized in Dib/Zim's hand. He pointed it at his father. One shot rang out. Then another. And another. Dib/Zim shot until the gun was empty. Blood blossomed from Membrane, soaking his white lab coat.
"Die! Why won't you die?" Dib/Zim yelled. Blood. So much blood. Membrane began laughing noiselessly. He stared at Dib/Zim, changing. Dib/Zim screamed. He was staring at himself, drenched in blood, laughing. The mirror-Dib laughed until blood came pouring out of his mouth, his nose, his eyes. Dib/Zim stared at this macabre, blood-soaked Dib.
"No! I'm not! I'm not! No!"
Another gun appeared. Another round of bullets into the mirror-Dib. Nothing happened. He stood there, pointing at Dib/Zim, silently laughing, blood continuing to stream from him.
Another gun appeared. This time Dib/Zim lifted it to his temple. And fired. Nothing. Again. Nothing. No stream of blood. No splattering of brains hitting the ground. Nothing.
Zim ripped the goggles from his face. He rubbed his face with a shaking hand, queasy as Dib's vision replayed in his head. The Dib is more insane than I thought. He stared down at the boy in the chamber, trying to make sense of it all.