A/N: Thanks for reading and all of the reviewing!

Disclaimer: I do not own Invader Zim, Squee, JTHM or any related franchises. But I do own vase of flowers, which is sitting on a shelf that's way too high for my cat to possibly- oops, nevermind. I don't own a vase of flowers.


Chapter Two: Far Too Many Coincidences

agent_mothman: hey gaz! zim and i are going to work on the project today.
agent_mothman: we're writing about the homicidal maniac!
v0x3lr0t: Wow, that's so fascinating!
v0x3lr0t: And by that, I mean I don't care.
agent_mothman: so i've been doing some research and WOW this story is crazy!
agent_mothman: did you know he killed everyone in a restaurant?!
agent_mothman: even the cockroaches!
agent_mothman: and he STILL didn't get caught!
v0x3lr0t: Stop blowing up my phone. If I lose this boss battle, I will destroy you.
agent_mothman: i mean, this case just screams paranormal!
agent_mothman: pun intended
agent_mothman: hehe screams
v0x3lr0t: I'm going to pretend that last message never happened.
v0x3lr0t: Are you coming home for dinner tonight?
agent_mothman: i dunno, i gotta see how this goes
agent_mothman: i might really be onto something here!
v0x3lr0t: Whatever, Dib.

XXX

"This homicidal maniac case is FAR more interesting than I initially thought!" I exclaimed. Newspaper clippings from this morning's paper were scattered across Zim's kitchen table, and arranged into haphazard piles. I really needed a bulletin board. Every good conspiracy theorist should have a bulletin board. "Every image of the killer is blurry, video goes to static when he enters a room and people can't describe what he looks like! Victims who have escaped his torture dungeon have gone to the police and then somehow forget where he lives! How can anyone think this case is normal?!"

GIR, who was flipping a pancake in a frying pan, just shrugged. Then he hummed a little as he poured in a cup of tiny screws and bolts.

"I've got a couple ideas for what it might be, but it's a little too early to guess." I continued, reshuffling the clippings. "Vampire baby, perhaps? Barista ghost? I'm really hoping for a werebee, though. I never did catch that last one. Uh, do you know when Zim's coming up?"

Finally, the robot turned around. "You talkin' to meee?"

Ugh. Typical.

"Whatever." I started to gather up my research. Zim would be angry if I left this mess in his kitchen. He was already going to be mad that I cut up his newspaper. "I'll go find him myself."

That might have implied that I was annoyed, but I really wasn't. Reading about the case had filled me with a thrill that I hadn't felt in a long time. The past couple months were stretched out in my memory like a grey horizon on a rainy day and it had been so long since I was genuinely excited about something. With the frequency of the dreams increasing, in addition to Zim's weird behavior, the distraction had me giddy with excitement. Or maybe that was the sleep deprivation? I couldn't tell the difference anymore.

As I descended into Zim's base, I replayed the thrilling details of the case. The maniac was male. He appeared to be human, but appearances were deceiving. He targeted all age-groups, ethnicities, religions and professions- so it was random. No pattern. No correlation. Completely, maddeningly, excitingly random. He killed in public. He slaughtered restaurants and cafes full of people and still got away with it. And those he kidnapped? He often brought them back to his house for unspeakable, meaningless torture.

It sounded like a movie. There was a real-life Jason on loose in a town that was just a short bus ride away.

And I had the scoop on it!

Agent Darkbootie was going to so impressed! Maybe I would actually be promoted to Senior Agent? What would I wear for my Mysterious Mysteries interview? Would they invite me to become the new host of the show? Not to brag, but I do a pretty good Robert Stack impression.

I was just compiling a list of cases I would feature on my first episode when the elevator stopped at an unfamiliar floor. As it opened, I heard voices.

"I'm sorry Zim, I can't do that! I'll get in trouble!"

"Why?! I wrote half of those files! It's my research!"

A huge screen encompassed the long back wall of the room, with video quality so crisp it would put any IMAX theater to shame. On the screen, there was an image of giant pink doughnut, flecked with white and purple sprinkles.

I stared at it.

It was like a piece of modern art; I knew what I was seeing, but I just couldn't make any sense of it. Then, I noticed a small green face in the center but I didn't recognize it until it spoke again.

"I understand that, Zim!" Skoodge said, "I know it's your research, but giving information from my PAK to unclassified-"

"UNCLASSIFIED?!" Zim slammed a fist on the control board and the screen wavered with static.

"Blorch, I didn't mean it like that!" Skoodge was saying as the image returned. "You know what I meant! The Tallest will put me through an existence evaluation if I shared-"

"I have the same information in my PAK, Skoodge! I just can't access it! Every time I try that containment protocol keeps stopping me! If I could only figure out how to bypass-"

"You've been hacking your PAK?!"

"What choice do I have?!"

"Zim, that's dangerous! Look, I don't know what you're planning but it's probably bad! You're going to get in trouble and then you're going to get me in trouble, the way you always do!"

"You're a coward!"

"Yes! Yes, I am! And I'm sorry but I'm not getting involved this time!" For a moment, he looked determined. Then in a whimpering voice, he added. "Please don't hate me!"

I thought Zim would scream at him, but he became silent instead and somehow that was worse. He leaned over the control panel, like he was about to throw up.

I couldn't watch this anymore. I thought about retreating back into the elevator, but I wasn't really sure how to open to the doors without asking the computer. So I decided to go inside and pretend like I hadn't overheard anything.

"Hey, Skoodge!" I said.

Skoodge squinted for a moment and then spotted me. He wriggled a gloved hand out of the side of the doughnut and waved. "Hey, buddy! Long time, no see! Wow, you've gotten tall!"

Skoodge, as far as evil alien invaders went, was a pretty cool guy. He lived with Zim for a while before leaving to go on another mission and we hung out a couple times. To be honest, I wished he had been assigned Earth instead of Zim, because I'm pretty sure I could have convinced him to switch sides. I would have taken him to the mall for pizza or something and maybe... I dunno, maybe we could have been friends? That would never happen with Zim.

"What's with the outfit?" I asked.

"Oh, it's just a disguise for my new mission. I'm stationed on The Planet of Frying, y'know? It's neat! So, what're you doing here? Sneaking around Zim's base again?"

Zim had straightened up and was fiddling with the controls for the monitor. Or pretending to, at least. He didn't even look at me.

"Not this time," I said. "We're working together on a skool project."

"Working together? Like voluntarily?" Skoodge's eyes widened in surprise. "That's great! I'm glad to see you're following my advice, Zim. It's good to have friends around!"

Zim grumbled something that I'm sure wasn't polite. Then, he froze.

"It is good, Skoodge." He said, slowly, like he was reading from a script he had never performed before. "I love helping the Dib-monster! In fact, that's what I need that file for! It's research for our project!"

"Really?" Skoodge glanced at me. "Is that true?"

My first instinct was to say no. It was an instinct long honed from years of trying to stop Zim from whatever he was planning. Good for him, bad for me and vice versa.

But then I caught Zim's eye. That's the benefit of an enemy- I could read Zim better than anyone. I had picked up the skill from years of sitting across from him in class. Zim was loud- as anyone who happens to be in his vicinity for longer than thirty seconds would know- but it was really the small expressions that gave him away. A slight curl of the lip when he had an evil plan, the way he tapped his pencil when he was frustrated, how his hands tightened into fists when presented with something he didn't understand- I know all of these things. I'd be a poor investigator if I couldn't read my own arch-enemy's body language.

So when our gazes met for a second, so quickly that Skoodge probably didn't even notice, I caught the tiniest hint of something in Zim's eyes. Desperation. It was so slight, so quick nobody else would have noticed. But I did. Of course, I did. And to me, he might as well have been begging at my feet. It would have had the same effect.

"Yeah..." I found myself saying. "It's for the project..." Realizing how shaky that sounded, I broke eye contact with Zim and turned back to Skoodge. I forced a little more confidence into my voice. "I made him ask for the… uhh… files because I didn't think you'd give it to a human. Sorry about that!"

What am I doing? I berated myself as I stood there, shoulders back, staring up at the screen. I might have just given Zim something to endanger the Earth!

"Weeeell," Skoodge thought about it, scratching his non-existent chin with a gloved hand. "Alrighty then. The fact you would need RFS research files for a skool project is TOTALLY WEIRD but where else are you gonna get them, right? I'm sending the data over now! Just keep it on the down low, okay?"

"Finally!" Zim muttered.

"Hey, anytime! I'm just glad you guys have become such close friends! It really warms my three hearts, y'know? It's important to stick together in a time like-" An explosion rattled in the distance. Skoodge waddled around in a little circle to look. "Looks like a battalion of frybots are closing in on me. Gotta go! Zim, please call me more, alright? I worry about you some- BY THE TALLEST THERE'S LIKE TWENTY OF THEM!"

The transmission went dead.

I stared at the static. What had he been talking about? Zim and I- close? The only way was close to Zim was in proximity. I glanced over at him, but he was just scrolling through something on a tablet.

"Do you think Skoodge will be okay?" I asked.

"Huh?" Zim glanced up. "Eh, I dunno. More importantly, he sent everything I needed!"

I tried to stand on my toes to catch a glimpse of the screen, but he turned it off and a metal arm came out of his PAK to retrieve it. "What is it?" I blurted out.

Zim didn't glare at me the way he usually did when I butted into his business. Instead, there was a long pause. He considered me like he was seeing me for the first time.

"Why should I tell you, human?" He asked.

I have to know if I just doomed the Earth, I should have said. I'm your greatest enemy and I deserve to know what's going on! He expected me to say. Because you've been acting weird and I need to know why. I wanted to say.

And yet, all I said was: "Whatever, Zim. Keep it to yourself. I don't care."

Then I walked away.

But before I did, I caught just the slightest hint of disappointment in his eyes.

XXX

Mount Pleasant would have been a ten-minute flight in an Irken spacecraft but since the Voot Cruiser wasn't working for some reason Zim still refused to share, it was an hour long bus ride instead.

Zim hated buses. He called them "stink-machines" and took a good five minutes disinfecting the seat before we were even allowed to sit down. I didn't mind buses so much. Sure it was crowded but people left me alone and I left them alone too. I spent most of the ride scribbling a list of interview questions in a notebook. With any luck, I could have a lead by the end of the day.

Finally, the bus pulled up to a stop on Main Street. There was a row of stores and restaurants, so I guessed we were somewhere in the heart of the town. Perfect!

"We should split up to cover more ground." I told Zim, as I glanced over the questions again. "You can do some research at the library, while I try to interview some-"

"You wish to split up?!"

I found the way he asked that sort of funny. He said it like I was the protagonist of a horror movie and he was a genre savvy audience member shrieking advice at the screen.

"You sound surprised."

"I…" He drew in a sharp breath. "I do not think it is wise!"

I raised an eyebrow. "It is wise, actually. If we split the work, we can get it done faster. I can cover the interviews and you can do the research."

A strange look crossed his face. It was like I could see him thinking, weighing two decisive factors against each other. These two opposing ideas were locked in a battle to the death but one emerged victorious, waving the bloody head of its opponent around like a trophy.

"Fine! But I insist you take Minimoose!" Zim snapped his fingers and Minimoose flew beside him- awaiting an order. "He has a built-in communicator which you will use to contact me if you require my assistance. However, let me warn you! If you fail to bring him back to me in one piece, you will pay with your spleen."

You might think this was another one of Zim's empty threats, but I can personally attest to the fact that he has taken organs before. It took forever for Dad to grow me another pair of lungs. "I don't want your stupid floating moose, Zim. Why can't I just text you?"

"Is your brain malfunctioning or have you forgotten there is a mad cereal human on the loose? Minimoose can at least provide you with some measure of protection!"

"Protection?! I'm not five years old! And why would you care if I got abducted by a serial killer?"

"This is a group project, swine! If you are dead, I will fail!" He had a good point. It actually stated that in directions. "You will take Minimoose and that's the end of it!" He tugged GIR's leash. The robot, and the trashcan he was riffling through, toppled over. "I will pay a visit to this lie-berry and see what knowledge I can attain on this disgusting place."

"It's library but otherwise, that sounds good. I'll let you know when I'm done."

Already refocusing my attention back on the questions, I started to walk off.

"Human!" Zim called after me. I turned around just in time to see a metal arm from his PAK deposit something tiny into his gloved hand. He clenched his fist shut before I could see anything. "There… is something I must give you. Though it PAINS me to admit it, I would not have received that file from Skoodge without your assistance. I owe you a debt of gratitude, Dibthing."

"You're welcome?" I said, confused.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Did I thank you?! I said I owe you a debt of gratitude and Irkens do not like to owe debts! So allow me to impart an AMAZING Zim gift upon you!"

Then he handed me something in a tiny vial. I held it up to the light. Shimmering red liquid sloshed against the side of the glass.

"Drink this vial before you go to sleep tonight." When I gave him a suspicious look, he added. "It will not kill you! And even if I wished to kill you, poison is not my preferred method. It is uncreative and sadly lacking in horribly painful explosions! No, this is merely a sedative I have engineered with my ingenious brain. I assure you it is harmless."

"And… why are you carrying this around?"

"I use it quite often when conducting experiments. Humans scream and beg less for their pitiful lives when they're asleep, y'know? This single dose will keep you unconscious for a solid eight hours."

I twirled the little vial around my finger. "I don't know if I trust you."

"Trust me or do not trust me; it matters little to Zim! Now, let's get this hideous project over with."

We exchanged a couple insults and parted without much fanfare- Zim going one way, barking at GIR for directions to the library, and me heading out in the other direction.

But as I walked off, I couldn't get the conversation out of my head. I prided myself on being able to read Zim like book, which was a feat since it was written in all capital letters with a lot of exclamation points, and the fact I had absolutely no idea why he was acting so weird really bothered me. A debt of gratitude? Since when had Zim ever acted grateful for anything?

It was suspicious.

I fingered the smooth glass in my pocket. I knew Zim was a liar. I knew it probably was poison. I knew that whatever it was could kill me.

But a sharp pain pounded behind my eyes and I found myself rubbing the bridge of my nose to force it back. How much longer could I go on like this? If there was just the slightest chance Zim was telling the truth, if the sedative could give me just one night of good sleep, then maybe….

… maybe it was worth the risk?

Well, I could decide that later. Right now, I had a job to do. Flipping through the notebook, I tried to memorize some of the interview questions.

"I don't even know where to start." I confessed. With Minimoose floating beside me, it didn't feel so weird talking to myself. "I guess I'll just grab a random person. Hey, excuse me!" A man passed by, drinking a can of soda. "Do you have a moment to answer a couple of-?"

He kept walking.

"This is going to be harder than I thought." I said to Minimoose.

And that was before the empty soda can bounced off my head.

XXX

About a year ago, I took part in a door-to-door fundraiser. Though there were times that doors would be slammed shut in my face or people would refuse to talk to me, I had a powerful advantage. I had candy. People wanted candy and so they didn't mind listening to my spiel about fundraising for education to get it.

But now, I had no candy and no advantage.

It was designed to be a simple survey, just a couple questions about the neighborhood and the attacks, but after a grueling hour of having dogs sicked on me, being blasted into the street with a garden hose, pelted with oranges and whacked with a cane- well, I wasn't having much luck with it.

"It's just a few questions!" I cried, after a woman had her boyfriend toss me in the dumpster. "I mean, it's not like I'm asking for money or anything!"

Minimoose sympathetically nudged a banana peel off my head.

By noon, the only person I had interviewed was a homeless man who answered every question with "all of the above" even though none of them were multiple choice. I was tired, hungry and a bit dejected so I decided to stop at a local café and get some lunch.

Since it was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, the café was practically empty. The door made a little jingling noise as I came in. A lanky goth guy sat alone at one of the tables and glanced in my direction before adjusting his ear-buds and returning to the book he was reading, a universal sign of Don't Talk to Me. The only other table was occupied by a young couple who were laughing about something, though I couldn't hear what.

Minimoose squeaked.

"Yeah, you're right." I said, feeling hopeful. "They look like they could be in college. College students have tons of projects and research papers to do so they might understand if it's for skool, right?" Then, I paused. "Wait, how did I know you said that?"

Minimoose just gazed at me.

"Neurotransmitters? In my brain?! That's messed up! When did you even do that?! Well, whatever. I'm just going to go interview them before they think I'm talking to myself."

I took a second to refresh the questions in my mind before I approached the table. They were still laughing and so I had to clear my throat to catch their attention.

"Hi, my name is Dib."

They looked at me. I don't know why I suddenly felt nervous. Maybe it's some sort of survival instinct humans have from our less evolved years. If something is staring at you, it's probably figuring out the best way to rip your arm off.

I had to clear my throat again. "Umm, I have to do a survey for a skool project about the homicidal maniac."

The girl leaned back in her chair. "What is that purple thing?"

For a moment, I didn't know what she was talking about. Then I remembered Minimoose, floating over my shoulder. "Oh, that's just… a normal Earth moose." She stared at me. Her glasses were so shiny, I couldn't read the expression in her eyes. "Anyway, would you guys mind answering a couple questions?"

"Yeah, okay." The guy shrugged. He had shaggy black hair and a piercing on his eyebrow. I wondered if it hurt at all. "I've got some theories about this maniac guy."

The girl snorted. "Theories? Seriously?"

"Yeah, Tess! Theories! Are you fucking deaf or something? Here's the thing about serial killers, kid." He wasn't actually answering any of my questions, but I wrote down what he was saying anyway. At least I had something to put in my notebook this time. "People think killers are these big, scary nightmare guys like Freddy or Jason. They go batshit crazy and start making a big media circus and trying to figure out what makes em' tick and stuff but it all really boils down to one thing: they're all losers."

Losers. I wrote. And based on the way he stressed it, I added an underline for emphasis.

"Every time they catch one of these guys, who does it turn out to be? Some freak with no friends who jacks off to violent pornography in his basement. He gets off on all of the attention because he has mommy issues and what we do? We all fucking freak out about it so he does it more! But you know what we should do?"

"What should we do, Dillon?" Tess sighed, on cue. Evidently she had heard this before.

"Laugh at him!"

"Laugh at him?" I stopped writing. That really hadn't been the answer I expected.

"Yeah, that's what I said! You know what I would do if that guy came up to me right now with a knife? I'd be like 'yeah, whatever asshole. I'm going home'. You see what I'm saying? If I screamed and begged for my life, he'd be sexually aroused and murder me but if I was like blah about it, he'd probably go home and cry or something. But no, nobody does that. Instead people go around talking about it and doing surveys and shit."

"Come on, Dillon." Tess muttered, avoiding my puzzled gaze. "He said it was for a project."

"He's part of the problem! Actually society is the problem, Tess. They just don't get it! I tell em' how it is and they just don't get it."

Since the conversation was taking a sour turn, I scribbled the last of my notes and decided to make my escape. "Well, thanks for the help but I have to-"

"If they listened to me more, we could prevent this kind of stuff from happening." Dillon continued over me, "I bet I could profile a killer before he even killed anybody."

"Really?" Tess's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Yeah, take this kid right here." He waved a hand in my direction. "Future serial killer, for sure."

"Oh, come on."

I made another escape attempt. "I really have to-"

"Just look at him. Skinny, weird trench-coat, smelly breath. He's got all of the signs. Let me ask you a question." Then, he leaned forward like an officer preparing for an investigation. "Name five of your closest friends."

"That's not a question, Dillon."

"Shut up, Tess." Then to me, he said. "Go on. Name five."

I shouldn't have even tried to play his game. The guy was obviously a jerk so I should have just thanked them for the interview and walked out. But he threw me so off-guard that my panicked mind started searching for some names. Any names. But my mind was so blank it was hard to believe I had ever had a thought before in my life.

"You see." Dillon leaned back in his chair with a triumphant smirk. "I had this kid pinned. Future serial killer, right here."

Have you ever been punched in the face? I have. My glasses cracked, I lost a tooth and my cheek was bruised for an entire week. But all of that was preferable to the pain I felt now. I kind of stared at Dillon but he just shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. I looked over at the girl, but she stared at the table, avoiding my gaze.

"I'm… just going to ask someone else." I said, "Thanks for your time."

"What're you looking at me like that for, asshole?" I heard him snap at someone, as I walked away. "Jesus, I was kidding!"

I drifted towards the counter to look at the food, but I could barely read the labels through my blurred vision. Crying, worm baby? I could hear Zim's mocking voice in my mind as I blinked back a couple tears. Did the poor little Dib monkey get his feelings hurt?

Usually I was pretty good at dusting off insults- skool had trained me well for that- but this hurt more than it should have.

Maybe because it's true?

Minimoose nudged my shoulder but I ignored him. Is that really how people saw me? Not as a hero, not as the lone savior of humanity- but as the prime candidate for "most likely to shoot up the skool" in the yearbook?

I wiped away a couple rebellious tears with the sleeve of my jacket. Don't listen to that guy. I told myself. He's just a jerk. So, I bought a muffin and tried not to make eye contact with the cashier as he took the money from my shaking hand.

"Excuse me." I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. When I turned around, I had to step back to look up at the tall man who gazed down at me. I realized he was the goth guy sitting in the back the café when I came in. "You needed an interview?"

Seeing him up close, I realized how thin he was and the striped shirt he was wearing gave him the illusion of being even skinnier, like his waist could fit in the circumference of my hand. He smiled, too broadly.

"Uh, yeah." I said.

An awkward silence fell between us. The man stared at me. "I thought interviews consisted of questions?" Then, after a long pause, he added: "Unless that's interrogations. I get those two confused."

"No, no! You're right!" The realization that he was actually offering to help with my project began to sink in. "I have some questions!"

Of course, they happened to escape me at that moment, as questions so often do. I started frantically flipping through my notebook.

"I hope this isn't a survey." The man said, his slender fingers tightening around the coffee cup he was holding. "I hate surveys! Unless they are conducted door to door and there aren't any witnesses. In that case, they're quite delightful." An explosion of laughter erupted from the next table. I noticed Dillon glancing over in our direction. "Obnoxious, aren't they?" The man said, as his smile faded. "Yesterday, they had the nerve to tell me my head looked like a badger's ass."

"What does that even mean?"

"I assume it's an insult. Rest assured, it is a bit of my personal philosophy that vengeance is swift. Or, to put it in more colloquial terms, what goes around comes around."

"Do you really think that?" I raised an eyebrow. "Because I don't think the universe is that fair. Usually I find the good people suffer horribly and the bad people get away with everything."

"Oh sure. I mean, if you leave karma to the universe nothing is going to get done. But you'd be surprised at how much a lead pipe and a funnel full of rats can make you feel better. Annnnyways," He took a sip of his coffee. "Why don't we have a seat and you can ask me some of those questions? My name is Johnny, by the way. Nny for short."

He extended a slender hand for me to shake, which I did. It was like shaking hands with a skeleton, but I didn't really mind since it had been the first genuinely friendly gesture I had received all day.

"I'm Dib." I answered, before I realized I shouldn't be giving my name away to strangers. Well, he seemed nice. "Why not John?"

He grinned. "Why not Nny?"

That was as good an answer as any, I guessed.

I followed Nny to a small table in the back the café, far from Dillon's laughter. As I settled into a seat, I took a bite of my muffin.

"So, what brings an innocent child out this cesspool?" Nny asked, watching me alternate between eating and flipping through the notebook. "Project for a class?"

I managed a nod.

"Ah, education." Nny leaned back in his chair, his long legs perched against the table. "If you want an education, you won't find it in a school. Teachers are simply teaching you how to pass tests so they can secure their own employment and appease the state monkeys. Did that answer your question?"

"I…" I finally managed to swallow. "I didn't ask anything yet."

"Oh, right. My apologies! So, what's your project on?"

"A current events story."

"I see." Nny smiled, grimly. "And you're researching the murders, I assume? That's the only newsworthy story in this goddamn place. But that's a bit of a dark subject matter for a nice little Dib like you, isn't it?"

"I'm mature for my age!" I assured him, steeling myself for a confrontation. Dad was always telling me to stop being so morbid and insane. "I'm a paranormal investigator, so I'm used to scary stuff. I study ghosts, bigfoot and aliens mostly."

"Isn't this a tad outside your area of expertise then?"

"Not really. Any idiot could see there's something weird going on here."

I waited for the inevitable "you're crazy!" but it never came. In fact, the man's face grew quite serious. "You believe there's some sort of supernatural aspect to this… homicidal maniac?"

"Yeah! I mean, it's pretty obvious. How could an average human keep killing in broad daylight and not get noticed?! Take that story last week with that dead mime-"

"It was a clown." Nny corrected. "A horrible clown with a fake water pistol! But continue."

"Right, sorry. Take that story with the dead clown. The killer stabbed him in the middle of a park and then drained him of all of his blood. Fifty people saw it and took pictures. And yet not one of those pictures came out clear enough to see and none of those people could describe the killer in detail? That's not natural!"

"I'll admit I have often thought the same thing." Nny leaned back in his chair. "There are far too many coincidences, aren't there?"

"Wait, you agree with me?"

"You sound surprised."

"It's just… people don't really believe me that often."

Nny graced me with an understanding smile. "That's a shame. You seem like a smart kid. And in this regard, I believe you are absolutely right. How can something like that happen? At first, I assumed it was because people were stupid and just hadn't noticed. Then I figured that they just didn't care. But when it came to my attention that several escaped victims had gone to the police and nothing had been done, I became suspicious. I'm curious, Dib, what are your theories on the matter?"

"Well, I don't know." The idea that someone was actually asking me what I thought about something- and not being sarcastic about it- was a bit overwhelming. Minimoose started squeaking, indicating that Zim was trying to contact me but I waved him away. "If I had to guess, I'd say the killer is a vampire or a ghost. That would explain the interference with the cameras. And somehow the police are trying to cover it up like a…" conspiracy, I almost said but trailed off. When you say the word conspiracy, you're usually dismissed as crazy.

"A good theory, based on the evidence you have." Nny said, resting his head on his interlaced fingers. "But allow me to propose another one. What if our killer was not supernatural? What if he was as real as you or me? A person of flesh and blood?"

"So then how do you explain…"

"Ah, that's the thing! If our killer is entirely human, then what is protecting him? I am proposing that there is something cosmic bending the rules. That would explain why every attempt at capturing him has failed, why victims can't remember where he lives, how video files of him show nothing but static when they are played back. Something is watching out for him."

The more I considered the idea, the more I liked it. It explained everything about the case in one fell swoop. But it wasn't a complete theory. "Why, though?"

Nny's smile faded. "That's the one thing that eludes me. Why is this homicidal maniac- this one vile, disgusting person out of billions- receiving this special treatment?"

"Maybe he made a deal with a demon or something."

"I think you give him far too much credit. I don't think he's anything more than a pathetic tool, warped to its purpose." Then he caught me staring at him. "What?"

"You seem to know a lot about this."

His eyes sharpened. "What do you mean?"

"You're another investigator, aren't you?!" I exclaimed. As we had been talking, the idea that he might be another Swollen Eyeball Agent flittered through my mind. But I highly doubted that since I hadn't heard of any other agents operating near my location. Not that I have the best reputation in the network, but they would have contacted me for free snacks or something. Still, even if he wasn't a Swollen Eyeball Agent, Nny had too much of a vested interest to be just a thoughtful bystander.

Nny's eyes widened and then he laughed. "An investigator?! That's a first!"

"Are you?"

"Aren't we all investigators in a cosmic sort of way?"

"That didn't answer my question."

"No, it was frustratingly vague wasn't it?" He smirked and took another sip of his coffee. "I like you, Dib. I think you're a good kid. And I would tell you that you shouldn't get involved in all of this, but we both know that you don't give a shit what I say and you're going to do whatever the you want. So while you're working on this project, I would appreciate it if you kept me informed of what you're finding. All I can say is that I… have a very personal stake in this. Help me identify this thing and I'll put an end to it. Do we have a deal?"

"Yeah! Of course!" I could have burst with joy. Nobody had ever believed me before! The thought of having a partner was comforting in a way I couldn't begin to explain.

"Wonderful." At that moment, Dillon and Tess got up. And just before they left, Dillion tossed his empty cup in our direction and it bounced off the side of the table, splattering my notebook with a couple stray drops of coffee. After the door closed with a jingle, Nny smiled and got to his feet. "If you'll excuse me, I must be going. I have a feeling I will be expecting some guests very shortly. It was a pleasure to meet you, Dib."

"Wait!" I exclaimed, as if he was just going to disappear in a puff of smoke. "How will I find you?!"

"Oh, don't worry about that." Nny said. "I'll find you. I always do."

At that moment, the door jingled again and I became aware of something approaching from the corner of my eye. Whoops, I thought. Over the course of my earnest conversation with Nny, I realized that I had ignored Zim's attempts to contact me. And, by the murderous look in his eyes, he hadn't taken that well.

We both turned as Zim came to a stop in front of us. First, he looked at me. It was a quick glance, like he was just confirming I was there, and then he turned to Nny. His artificial eyes narrowed.

"I order you to leave!"

Nny looked puzzled. "I was leaving, actually."

"Then-! Err! LEAVE FASTER!"

For a single second, a look of absolute rage crossed Nny's face, surfacing like a shark ready to take a bite out of an unsuspecting victim. Then it disappeared.

And in its place was a pleasant smile.

"What's your name?" He asked.

The alien sneered at him. "I am Zim! You would do well to remember it, noodle-man!"

"Oh, I will." Nny chuckled, "Don't you worry about that, Zim."

And then, with one last cheery wave to me, he was gone.

Before the door even closed, Zim's glare snapped back to me. "You are more of fool than I thought! Have you no common sense?!"

"What are you yelling at me for?" I retorted. "I was interviewing him for the project! That's what I was supposed to be doing! And why is it any of your business anyway, huh? You don't have any say about who I talk to!"

"I don't like him!"

"You don't like anyone."

He had to concede me on that point. "Regardless, I didn't lend you Minimoose so you could ignore me!"

"Yeah, sorry about that." I said, though we both knew I wasn't. "What did you want?"

"I have completed my mission earlier than scheduled and have commandeered many valuable books from the lie-berry for our project! PREPARE YOUR INFERIOR OPTICS!" He gestured dramatically to the door as GIR came in, dragging a towering wagon full of books behind him. "Are you not impressed?"

I'll admit that I actually stood up in surprise. "Wow! This is great! They let you check out all of these on your library card?"

Zim stopped basking in the complement to stare at me. "...Card?"

"Zim, you idiot! You didn't steal these, did you?! Now the librarians will send parasites after us!"

"Well, I did my part! Let's see all of your work!"

And that's when I remembered that I had forgotten to ask Nny any of the interview questions and my notebook remained blank.


A/N: Dreamtime on Friday!