"Dib-student, it's time for your exam." Zim announced over the house intercom. "Meet me in the holo-lab."
Dib had been hunched over his desk for hours – pouring over his notes and trying to cram every last detail into his brain. He had vowed from the very first day that Zim had begun tutoring him that Dib would try his hardest always. He was determined to please and impress his idol by excelling at everything Zim taught him.
It had already been 5 years. Zim didn't mess around with his lessons - he did not lecture like in school, nor did he assign reading or homework; he left that up for Dib to figure out for himself how he chose to learn the material. Zim taught by first demonstration of technique then allowing Dib to try. Every few weeks he would construct an elaborate virtual simulation (often in the form of a battle) where Dib's progress was evaluated.
Dib's curriculum consisted mostly of hardcore math and sciences: astrophysics, physical cosmology, advanced calculus (variations, lambda and pi), astrology and computer and mechanical engineering, etc. He was also trained in several disciplines of Irken Martial arts and strategic combat. Then in his spare time he studied biochemistry and linguistics. His virtual tests were all about accessing his knowledge of these areas instantly and applying them to real-life (and often dangerous) situations.
Dib stepped up to the dais where Zim stood. Zim had his chest puffed out proudly and seemed to be holding in a smile. Dib felt his heart flutter to see how happy his mentor was.
"You have a surprise." Dib said, it wasn't a question. "I can tell."
"Yes." Zim confirmed. "You only died three times on your last exam before you passed the program. That is very good." Zim announced dramatically. "Your brain-meats are strong, Dib-smart, but you show weakness in combat. Hold out your hands." Zim ordered. Dib did as asked, a lopsided grin on his face. Zim pulled something black out of his PAK and slipped it onto Dib's right hand. Dib gasped when he saw it was a glove just like the kind Zim always wore, only with five fingers instead of three.
"This is an Irken material. Your hands and wrists are full of lots of little bones that can easily break and come apart. This will protect them." Zim said. Dib moved his wrist around and felt that it did indeed feel reinforced. "This material is very strong, yet it stretches and breathes - it will grow with you."
"Oh wow, Zim, this is . . . " Dib tried to focus on what Zim was telling him but he was distracted by Zim's touch on his hand. A red blush began to creep across his face.
"Pay attention, Dib-flake." Zim said, Dib immediately looked into his eyes – then flushed deeper. "Your fingers are weak too and dull, rotate your wrist to the side sharply." Dib hesitated for a second, not wanting to stop gazing into his crush's eyes, but finally did as instructed. Three sharp blades shot out of the top knuckles of the glove (two from the top and one from the thumb side).
"Just like wolverine!" Dib declared. He slashed his hand through the air a few times. The blades were very thin and long but Dib could feel how strong they were. He suddenly felt deadly.
"No, just like me." Zim said and held up his own claw next to Dib's hand. It was indeed modeled after an Irken hand. "And this." Zim next pulled two black boots out of his PAK. Again they were just like the boots he wore. "Same material, no blades."
"Thank you, Zim!" Dib sat down to pull his new boots on. They were snug at first but just as Zim said they stretched to fit him perfectly. He felt his feet and ankles were now protected.
"Today your exam is simple. Your assignment is . . . to touch me." Zim instructed. He clasped his hands behind his back and stood still.
"Just to touch you? Anywhere?" Dib confirmed. Zim nodded with a sly grin. Dib positioned himself exactly as Zim had shown him to during a fight and took a deep breath.
"You have thirty minutes. Begin." Zim said. Zim's relaxed posture didn't change but Dib felt his sharp gaze focus on him. Again he tried to not be distracted.
Dib's first attempt was a direct one – he ran at Zim as fast as he could and reached out. Zim easily evaded him, stepping in a half circle. He did not unclasp his hands.
"Assessing your opponent, good." He commented.
Dib smiled then whirled quickly, kicking his leg out. Zim stepped back casually. Zim jabbed his hand out and flicked his fingers across Dib's throat. "Don't leave yourself open." Zim corrected. Dib nodded, trying to ignore the heat on his neck that was spreading from Zim's touch.
Dib spun around and ran at Zim as fast as he could, throwing punches and kicks as he went. Zim dodged each one so fast he almost looked like a blur. "How can he move so fast?" Dib wondered. Dib felt optimism when it appeared as if he had pushed Zim back far enough that he could corner him against the wall but the older male just jumped high over Dib's head in a flash. Before Dib could turn around he felt Zim's hands run down his hips from behind. "Elongate your legs." Dib jerked out of Zim's grasp and spun around, his pants suddenly felt tighter in the front. "Your form is good but your kicks are too stiff!" Zim continued.
"It's your fault I'm 'stiff'." Dib thought to himself. He cleared his throat and shifted his stance to try and hide his bulge from his mentor.
"Dib-sloth, you are too slow – a frontal attack won't work." Zim offered, again clasping his hands behind his back. "Try something else."
Dib thought of a brief moment and changed tactics. Dib snapped his left wrist and the blades ejected. He tore the glove off and threw it at the wall next to where Zim was standing. Zim cocked his head slightly as he watched the blades stab into the wall next to him. Sparks immediately erupted from the damaged wall and Zim was thrown off-balance. Zim teetered for a moment and Dib used the distraction to circle around to his adversary's side. This time he closed in low – using his momentum to slide up to Zim from the ground. Dib thought he finally had a chance to get close enough to touch Zim's foot. It wasn't graceful but a tag is a tag. At the last moment though Zim regained his balance and grabbed the glove out of the wall. He twisted his foot just out of Dib's reach and shoved the knives right in Dib's face as he came to a stop at Zim's feet.
"Stop holding back." Zim said, then wiped a smoking piece of wall off of his shoulder. He dropped the glove onto the ground before Dib.
"You still have twenty five minutes." Zim announced. "Would you like me to be blindfolded?" He teased.
Dib's arousal had gone away and was replaced by determination. It was frustrating him that Zim had the audacity to stand so carelessly close to him, close enough for him to reach but never giving him the opening. Any attempt Dib made and Zim slightly changed his posture just enough that Dib came back empty-handed; with a slight dipping of his shoulder or twist of his hips. He didn't even look at Dib as he outmaneuvered him.
Finally Dib decided to forgo his training, he just wanted to tag that arrogant bastard! He spit on Zim's shoe. Zim looked down at it reproachfully and Dib swung his open hand at Zim's head, the one without the glove. Zim's hand flew up and caught Dib's at the wrist. "That's disgusting." He said then bent Dib's wrist back. Dib's knees buckled and he sank to the floor.
"Never draw attention to your weaknesses, Dib-prey. Are you wearing a cup?" Zim raised his foot and smiled wickedly. Dib wrenched his arm out of Zim's grasp and back-pedaled away from his scary foot as quickly as he could. Dib was sweating and panting with effort, Zim was completely calm and relaxed.
"I can't catch you. I'm done." Dib conceded.
"You have seven more minutes." Zim replied.
"I'm tired and I'm just going to get slower and more irritated. You beat me."
"Unacceptable. Try again." Zim said. "It is un-Irken to quit."
Dib looked up into Zim's fierce, violet eyes. They both knew from the beginning that Dib had never stood a chance against Zim yet the look in Zim's eyes wasn't disappointment, nor was it mockery. Dib saw in them sincerity - Zim genuinely wanted Dib to win, to learn and to get stronger.
"Never give someone else control of your fate." Zim said pointedly.
"But I know I can't win. He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day."
"What a dookie thing to say. There is a difference between tactical retreat and surrender. In this scenario retreat is not an option. If you surrender to me the decision of your fate I choose torture, then execution." Zim said ominously. "Computer, restrain him." Cables descended from the ceiling and wrapped themselves around Dib's slim frame. They squeezed in tightly and pulled him above Zim, suspending him off of the ground.
"You're kidding, right?" Dib scoffed. Zim did not laugh with him, in fact this time his eyes did show disappointment. Dib hated to see that look on Zim's face and squeezed his eyes shut to block out the sight. "Never trust anyone, Dib-fail. I am entirely loyal the Irken Empire and my leaders. Everything I am and everything I do is for that." Zim snapped his fingers and the cables let Dib go then rose back up to the ceiling. "Without that there is nothing." Zim turned and walked away. Dib just stared at the floor in front of him, too ashamed to look at Zim. Right before the door closed behind him Zim hit his hand against the door frame. Dib looked over to see why and noticed that there was a timer there that he hadn't seen before. Zim had hit the stop button and it now read '5:02 minutes remaining'. He had failed this challenge.
