You should also know I am a pyro and almost all of my stories involve fire, at some point or another. :D

"No,
You'll never be alone
When darkness comes I'll light the night with stars
Hear the whispers in the dark . . ."
-Whispers in the Dark by Skillet

WOO! Long chapter time! I would have you all know that I am now drawing things, since I have yet to recieve fanart (hint hint, nudge, kick). Currently, I've made a surprisingly decent drawing of my versions of Gaz and Zim in a still frame of a scene in a later chapter. I will upload said picture and send it to you when that scene arrises.

Enjoy.

Chapter 10
"Flames Designed for Demise"

I ran.

It wasn't loud, in fact, it was quite soundless. My goal, my science room, was on the third story of the Skool. I took the stairs two at a time, easily, a small sneer creeping up on my face. But I resisted the urge for a full-out grin, as my job wasn't done yet. Far from it. I still needed to pick the lock in the drawer, as I hadn't been able to come up with a way to steal the real key from Mrs. Bitters. But these locks were easy to pick, as I had learned from experience. My record was 7 seconds.

I reached the top of the stairs, pausing to listen in case any teachers had lingered. By the time the janitor made rounds, everyone had cleared out, but now was not the time to get arrogant. If Mrs. Bitters or anyone else caught me sneaking around with a master key and a bag of who-knows-what . . . well, it didn't take a genius to figure out how much trouble I would be in.

After waiting a solid minute hiding in the shadows of the snack machine, I deemed it safe to proceed and continued onwards, pausing just before every door to listen. Because of my precaution it took me ten minutes to reach my classroom, but I considered it time well-spent. I wasn't about to be caught on my mission to humiliate the Skool by taking something that had been confiscated. True, it didn't seem like much of a thing to do, but in a Skool where discipline was advertised, it would certainly be more than enough of a setback for them.

And I was always happy to help throw something into chaos or withdrawals.

My classroom door was locked but with the master key in my possession, it was nothing of particular concern. The door was open with a simple twist and then I was inside, my bag still in place, securely, over my shoulder. I locked it behind me, not willing to risk flicking the lights on and removing my flashlight. In a moment I was able to see clearer and did a quick scan of the area, ensuring there were no booby-traps waiting for me. It was unlikely but you could never be too careful when you were doing something you shouldn't be.

After assuring myself I wasn't in any immediate danger I made my way to my goal: the drawer that held my precious game. I knelt before it, placing my bag gingerly on the floor beside me. I put the mini (but powerful) flashlight in my mouth, retrieving my lock-pick with a inward grin of triumph. I placed the flashlight on the chair, so that my hands could be free, angling it towards the lock with expert precision.

I had just popped it open when I heard shouting and footsteps.

With a quick movement I threw the lock-pick in my back, snatched up my flashlight and dug through the drawer. As expected, I found my game, still on and waiting for me to continue, with a dangerously low battery. I saved it with a flick of my finger, shut it off and shoved it into my bag and darted into the closet, leaving the door open a crack. This all happened within seconds and the footsteps were still approaching rapidly, the shouting confusing me. The only logical explanation I could make was that the janitor had discovered his lost key and called for back-up to try and find it before it got into the wrong hands.

Well, it was a little late for that.

I froze.

The key.

I'd left it on the desk.

Peering through the crack I could just make it out in the dark, sitting their, innocently. The footsteps had stopped outside the door, the voice muffled, distorted and unrecognizable. I couldn't risk going to retrieve it so I sat there, glad that I had thought to lock the door behind me. With any luck they wouldn't be able to get inside and I would remain unnoticed.

Someone banged on the door, my hand clamping over my mouth to keep an sound from escaping. I wasn't one to scream but precautions needed to be taken in this kind of situation. They called, demanding to know if anyone was inside. There was another voice, probably insisting they move on, which they did. My face contorted in confusion though as I heard their voices fade, along with their pounding footsteps. I slipped, uncaringly, from the closet, snatching the key up and placing my back on the desk, organizing everything properly. I couldn't be sure, but those voices had sounded very young.

I shrugged, thinking nothing of it. Probably just the new, younger teachers running around. Obviously the older ones couldn't be of any use if they were really searching for the key.

It took all of about five minutes to get my chaotic mess of a bag back into proper shape. I adjusted the strap, as it had gotten loose in my haste and pronounced myself deamable to move. I pulled the hood over my head again, which had fallen off when I'd darted into the closet and went to the door, to unlock it. That's when my nose picked up the smell.

I paused, looking around, sniffing the air. Something smelled bitter, burnt. As this was a science room, I didn't think anything of it for a moment.

Until I remembered we hadn't done any labs today.

And the smell was fresh.

I darted to the window before I knew what I was doing, nearly tearing the curtains down to gain view of the Skool below me. I threw the window open, just in time to get a fresh filter of smoke pass into my lungs. My eyes teared up and I coughed, violently, looking up just in time to hear a faint screech as a van peeled away at a high speed, cheers going up from inside. If the words hadn't been so clearly painted on the car, I would have never understood in time.

"Protestors?" I coughed, before I could make sense of the word.

And then I understood. The angry-mob of teenagers that had rampaged through the town, the reports of the violence and chaos getting worse. I understood completely, surprised no one had thought of it before, impressed that they had. The teenagers protesting the District. They needed to make a statement, too, since nothing had worked yet.

What better way to do that then burn down the very thing that gave the District the upper hand?

That was when the flames shot up the tree next to the window, the heat flooding the room and the flames licking just a little too close for comfort.

"SHIT!"

The word was out of my mouth before I knew it. I stumbled backwards, snatching up my bag and the key, running to the door. Though I didn't bother with the key, kicking down the weak, unsupported door easily. It wasn't like it mattered how much destruction I caused now anyways. In a minute this whole thing would be ash.

I intended to be very far away by the time that happened.

I heard shouting and headed towards it, instinctively. It was the janitor. If anyone knew how to get out of the Skool it was him and I was more then willing to get into a little trouble if it meant keeping me from being burnt to a crisp.

Whatever these kids had used, it was good. I had barely gotten two the second story, my feet barely on one step before it was on the next, skipping most of them, when I heard the shouting again. The janitor burst from a room, flames licking at his heels, slamming the door shut behind him and trapping the fire inside, for the moment.

We locked eyes, me right in front of him, both of us breathing heavily.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded, then shook his head. "Never mind, move!"

And then I was running down the stairs again, this time with a companion next to me.

"They set it on the second story." He stated, through his heavy breathing. "I saw them do it. They set my cart on fire and the chemical cleaners-!"

Before he could say another word, the door exploded, sending us to the ground, hard. We tumbled the rest of the way down the stairs, my bag landing on top of me. I grunted, forcing myself to my feet. He did the same. I understood why they'd started where they had. Starting at the bottom or top would mean that the fire would have to carry up or down two whole stories before consuming the whole building. Starting in the center meant it had immediate access to both. Whoever these kids were, I wanted to congratulate them for their expertise in destruction.

Right after I beat the tar out of them for doing it while I was still in the building.

"This way," The janitor coughed out, pointing down the hallway. I followed, without a single argument. I knew better then to argue for a different route.

Our Skool was like a maze, centered around the opening in the middle. New students always got lost and even second, third and fourth years had trouble finding their classes and their way around the campus sometimes. You could get lost in a heartbeat and with mine going at a million beats per second, I was in no condition to make any rational decisions. And, like I said, the janitor had to know this place by heart by now. If anyone knew how to get around the maze of a campus, any shortcut we could take, it was him. For once, I was going to have to depend on someone else.

I couldn't care less, at the moment, so long as I got out of here alive. I couldn't say 'unhamred' exactly, because my ribs and back were already aching from the fall, as were the sides of my arms and legs. Thankfully my head was fine but this fire was spreading fast and the smoke was making both of us cough. We never stopped running though. We couldn't stop or we'd probably end up with third-degree burns or dead and we both knew it.

I noticed we stayed out in the open a lot and figured out why. My brain kept rationalizing every move the janitor made, like it needed to make sense of something or was just keeping tabs on him, to make sure he wasn't leading me to my death. It very well could have been both. But I knew that with the fire, the building was weak. If any part of it gave out while we were under it, we would be crushed under two-stories of building and be killed instantly. Yet the roofing wasn't entirely avoidable and we did run through hallways, often. It felt like forever of running but I soon saw the exit, a sense of relief washing through me as I recognized the forest at the end of the long hallway. I could even see the flashing red lights of firefighter cars, no doubt just arriving on the scene. This would all be over in a minute.

The janitor was in front of me and or I wouldn't have seen it.

I skidded to a halt, taking steps backwards.

"Watch out!" I shouted, feeling like I owed it to him to warn him. "The roof!"

He didn't even look up and sensibly just threw himself forward, dodging the collapsing amount of roof. The burning pieces fell where he had just been and it was at that moment I realized it, seeing the naked fear and panic in his eyes as he lay on his backside, propped up on his elbows. I froze, mouth agape, trying to force myself to remain calm and struggling to do so.

Because now, I was blocked into the building.

And I didn't know another way out.

"S-STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" The janitor shouted, jumping to his feet. "I'LL GO GET HELP!"

I couldn't have moved if I wanted to. I had never seen anyone run so fast, even if he was stumbling while doing so. He was out of the building within seconds, his black coughs echoing back towards me. I shook my head, taking deep breaths and then regretting it instantly as my throat and chest burned, smoke filling them.

The roof ached again.

I turned and ran.

It was all over the news and I watched, amazed. Everyone had made the assumption it was the protestors and I had no doubt it was.

I pulled out my phone, dialing for Gaz. She said she had practice today and while she was outside in the field, I just wanted to make sure she was okay. You could never be too careful.

She picked up on the second ring.

My blood went cold as coughing was my answer.

"Gaz?" I shouted, immediately. Granted, if I was wrong, she was going to kill me for yelling at her, but that was fine with me so long as I knew she was alright. "Gaz, are you okay?"

"Dib-!" She broke into a fit of coughs.

"Gaz, are you at the Skool?" I shouted. I hadn't even realized I was heading towards my car before I realized my keys were in my hand and I was running towards the garage. "Gaz!"

"I (cough) I had to get it back!" She shouted, over the roar of what I could only assume were flames. "I had to (cough) I had to get it back Dib!"

"Get what back?" I demanded, confused, fumbling to open the doors with my key, nearly backing out into the garage door. It was opening painfully slow, as if to taunt me.

"The-!"

Something crumbled, I heard her let out a shout of surprise, then something cracked and the line went dead.

"Gaz?" I shouted, at the phone. I had no doubt that my whole neighborhood then heard me as I shrieked, "GAZ?"

But, of course, the line was dead, so I got no reply.

I cleared the garage and was gunning it, dialing instinctively, only aware of who I was calling when the voice answered, on speaker-phone, at the other end.

It was impatient, "Yes? What is it?"

"Shut up and listen!" I ordered, speaking before I got a scream of fury in reply. "The Skools on fire-."

"Yes I know that! What do you think I care for?" They snapped back, testily.

I growled, but the sound was naerly drowned out over my car's engine, the car itself speeding towards the Skool.

"Gaz is inside the building," I retorted, venom and fury in my voice. If I wasn't so panicky, I might've been scared of it. But I didn't have time to be scared. I needed to save my sister.

There was silence on the other end.

Then the line went dead.

I let out a shriek of fury. How many times was I just going to get a dead line today?

I wasn't sure how many red-lights I ran. I couldn't be positive how many people I had almost run over in my refusal to let a j-walker or pedestrian cross in front of me. Hell, I couldn't be sure I didn't hit someone. I had several police cars following me, demanding I pull over, but I couldn't care less at the moment, which was surprising in itself, because I was normally very careful about not breaing the law, especially while I was driving. Besides, they all turned off their lights as soon as I pulled up, across the street from the Skool, where a crowd was already gathering. I wasn't sure if they didn't know what had happened and they were just in shock, or they were never chasing me in the first place, both of us just having the same destination. However it didn't matter, as the sight before us was both terrifying and glorious.

The whole building was on fire. It might as well have been a torch, glowing in the darkness and lighting the way for the city to come observe it in its terrifying grace.

But all I could think was that somewhere in that firy glory, was my sister.

"GAZ!"

"Dib!"

It was useless to scream at the rubble covering my phone, I knew that. But I couldn't know what else to do. I was completely stupefied. Another dangerous creak of the roof was all the instruction I needed of what to do next.

Forcing myself to my feet once more (having been forced to dive out of the way to avoid being crushed again), I turned tale and ran, hoping I was going the right way. I couldn't count on the janitor being able to lead the fireman past the rubble to find me. If I was going to get out of here uncharred, I was going to have to use my own wit, which was in short supply, especially since there wasn't a lot of oxygen getting to my brain.

Damn this Skool and its mainly indoor campus!

Upon breaking free of the hallway, mostly unharmed, save for a few bruises I was positive to have in the morning, if I made it to the next morning-

Positive thoughts, Gaz, positive, helpful thoughts, I insisted to myself, forcing my natural pessimism away for the moment. Being indifferent wasn't going to keep me alive, instinct and action were.

There was no going to the roof, that much I knew. The fire on the second story prevented me from even making an attempt back towards the staircase. I wished I had paid more attention to our campus now, trying to figure out some escape route as I kept to the outside corridors, forcing back the panic threatening to rise in my chest, replacing it with determined frustration. Determination got me somewhere. Blind panic would only get me face-to-face with a wall of flame. Not that this tactic of running was really getting me anywhere, either. I knew that eventually, I was going to run ou of room to run.

And then what?

"Shit!" I hissed, for the thousandth time now, my head whipping back and forth faster then it should, making me a little light-headed. Or maybe it was just the effect of the smoke, depriving my lungs of fresh oxygen, "Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

The mantra went on, continuously, but I didn't notice nor care to watch my mouth at a time like this. I skidded to a halt just in time as another part of the building collapsed on itself. I was about to change direction and run again when something caught my eye, making me pause. Hesitating wasn't something I should be doing at a time like this, but instinct told me to look again and as I was devoid of most rationalization at this point, instict was all I had to run on.

And I was glad that I did.

The rubble had dampered part of the fire, leaving a clear path upwards, towards a very large pile of rubble. I looked around, knowing full-well that said pile probably wasn't very stable and that it too could go up in smoke at any minute. But a quick look around and the feel of the ever-growing heat made me decide it was better then staying here.

I darted up the rubble, my bad suddenly weightless as adrenaline pumped through my veins. I thought I might've been sweaty, but I was suddenly aware that I really wasn't. Granted, I didn't sweat very easily. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I'd broken a sweat but still. You'd think I would with how damn hot everything around me was-!

Neccesary though only, I ordered myself, as I just barely moved quick enough to avoid a bit of the rubble from disentigrating from underneath me. I shook off the panic once more, continuing my ascent up the wreckage, some of it blazing, making me nervous. But I reasoned if it wasn't on fire now, this probably didn't burn very easily and I might have enough time to come up with a new plan when I had a view and a general idea of where everything was below me and just how much of it was on fire. If I was lucky, I might even be able to find an exit route on my own. With height grew my optimism.

It seemed I had used up all my luck for today.

I had just made it to the top, a sigh of relief escaping from my lips, when a groan made me freeze and look down, refusing to shift my weight, lest the 'floor' give way beneath me. I barely let my head angle down, watching as the rubble bent forwards beneath me. A quick glance at my surroundings informed me I was maybe as high up as the second floor, possible the third, if I wanted to push it. I was immediately aware if I fell from this height, it was likely I was going to break something. And then I wouldn't be able to run from anything, fire, collapsing building or otherwise.

I shifted my bag towards the back, trying to even the weight out. It worked, for a moment, but the heat was curling whatever I was standing on, making it weaker. I began crawling backwards when an especial heat tickled my neck and I spun around, eyes wide.

I had been wrong. The fire took its time, but it made its way onto whatever I was supporting myself on. I refused to scream. If there was anything Gaz Membrane did not do, it was let out shrill, girlish shrieks. It would've been entirely justified, but I refused to do it nonetheless. If I was going to die I was going to die with my dignity intact.

So I had two choices; on the one hand, I could give up and let myself be burned alive now. Not exactly appealing. On the other, I could let myself fall the ten-plus odd feet and hope that the fall killed me. The downside of that option was that if it didn't, I was going to be immobile, in pain and then be burned alive. These weren't exactly appealing options.

And it seemed I wouldn't even get to make that choice as the 'floor' groaned one last time before slamming downwards, losing two or three feet, making it very clear the whole thing was about to collapse.

With me right at the top of it.

'Shit' was suddenly no longer an appropriate enough word for what I needed to scream.

*There were about three people holding him back from running inside the building. He made a very large scene, one that had news-reporters all over him, as well as the authorities trying to calm him down. Of course Dr. Membrane was nowhere in sight.

Everyone knew the situation by now. Some 'anonymous' girl was inside, but now, with Dib so clearly freaking out in front of everyone and his sister nowhere in sight, it became very clear who was running for their life inside.

Firefighters were already trying to put out the fires, but it wasn't quick enough. Everyone could see that it wasn't going to be quick enough. Dib had fallen to his knees screaming, fightining rather violently, tears streaming from his face. But after a good ten seconds of this, he caught sight of it. The one thing that could help.

If he just stopped drawing so much attention to himself and backed off, letting the firefighters take the concern of the cameras instead of the family member on scene having a panic attack.

He could do that.

Of course he could.

And it worked. After he lay huddled to the floor, no one paid anymore attention to him, just the glorious haze of the fire that may or may not have already taken someone's life. They were so consumed by the view then, that nobody noticed until it was far too late the sight of a trench coat, darting past everyone, right into the fire and disappearing within.

Nobody noticed.

Not until it was too late to follow.

So now it wasn't up to the firefighters anymore. It was up to him.

Another slam sent me several more feet downwards and my jaw ached, my teeth having slammed together in my effort to brace myself. I was pretty sure my tongue was bleeding too, from having bitten it, but that was the least of my concerns right now.

The good news was that the more the rubble beneath deteriorated, the less the fall was and the more likely I would get out of it unharmed, able to run just a little more. To survive until I could come up with a plan.

The bad news was that the longer I waited, letting the pile get shorter and shorter, the closer the fire got. And the closer the fire got meant the less time I'd have to run/come up with a plan before the flames were upon me. Because if there was one thing I knew now was that if the fire caught me, there wasn't any back-up that was going to save me.

It got about three yards away from me, leaving me about 8 feet above the ground, before I decided this was as long as I was willing to hold out. My hand securely on the bag (I honestly can't say why I didn't just ditch it in the first place; like I said, irritational thought-process) strap over my shoulder, I made my way carefully to the edge of the pile, which was very much like a ledge, looking down at the sight below me. I could see every story, ripped out and stripped, like it was under construction. A flagpole was nearby and I knew where I was.

Unfortunately, that was the middle of the Skool.

I didn't think about that. I made myself not think about that as I felt that slight shudder and knew that in a few minutes, the thing would collapse again. I didn't close my eyes because that would be stupid. In one powerful, adrenaline-filled step I jumped, summersaulting in the air, curling into myself, not possitive of where I was going to land.

I just knew it was over when I felt my back land, solidly, on something, the wind was knocked out of me, and I felt myself losing consciousness. The surprising part was that I did not feel fear. In fact, I was kind of releived, because I wouldn't be awake to feel the burning, feel my death. Not that I was afraid of pain, it was just an unnecessary hastle to death. And the best part was, I didn't have to run anymore. I wouldn't wake up tomorrow to feel my injuries. Maybe when I was dead I could figure out everything I'd forgotten and if I couldn't, well, it wouldn't really matter anymore anyways.

I was just about to slip into complete darkness when a chill shot me awake.

To this day I cannot understand what made me suddenly so violently, painfully cold. All I know is that when I sat up, far too quickly, my head aching so much it made that migraine feel like nothing and the general confusion of my 'memories' uncomparable to this shifting haze in my brain, I saw him.

And I couldn't understand why he was there, crouching over me, in a potentially dangerous situation for him if this was anywhere else and I wasn't fairly certain he was trying to save my life.

"Are you alright?" It sounded like an order as he gripped my wrist, forcing me onto my feet. "You fell pretty fast. I didn't know if I was going to be able to catch you."

It was strange how calm I felt, even though we were both still surrounded by fire and I was in no condition to be moving, let alone on my feet. This was only proven as my legs gave way, my knees slamming onto the ground. I was positive it should've been painful, but I couldn't feel my legs anymore. My attention was consumed by that aching fire in my chest and a feeling I recognized. I didn't get any farther then falling to my knees, though, as his arms were on my shoulders, a noise of alarm spewing from his mouth.

That wasn't the only thing about to be spewed.

I couldn't say what I vomited, or what it looked like, how much I vomited or even how long it took. I barely tasted the acidic, bitter taste or after I was done. All I felt were his arms gripping the edges of my sweatshirt and forcing it over my head. I should've taken it off a while ago, but I hadn't had time to think about my choice of clothing. We still probably didn't have time to just be sitting here, wherever 'here' was, since I had no idea where I'd landed.

I heard something tear and then the pocket, I presumbed, was acrossing my mouth, wiping at it. I imagined I looked terrible, pale(r then usual), tired, covered in vomit but I didn't really care. I was just trying to figure out why he was here, now that I wasn't spewing all over the ground. When he was done, he used the sleeves to tie the remaining cloth to cover my mouth, like a fiilter mask, keeping out the thick smoke but letting in the clear oxygen. It wasn't much but it was the best that could be done right now. He said as much. I just nodded in reply.

"You can't walk," He stated, simply, as if informing me of my predicament. Like I didn't already know.

But I couldn't formulate any witty remark. I could barely make out his form in front of me, it just kept going haze, the trenchcoat all I was aware of. Why was he wearing that, anyways? Now was hardly the time to adopt a new fashion sense, let alone one similar to-.

"I'm going to carry you," He continued. There wasn't an added word, to question if this was alright with me. It was just a warning, to prepare myself for movement or the fact I was going to be touched.

I just jerked a nod in reply and croaked out, my throat burning, "Okay."

With another confirmation nod from him, I was lifted into his arms, one hand under my back and the other under my legs. Automatically my arms made their way around his neck, loosely, my head lolling against his chest. Normally I would be kicking and screaming, demanding to be put down. But I had a feeling the fumes were making me delirious. For all I knew, I could be talking to a wall. And deliriously running through flames (not that I could run anyways) was probably not the best of ideas. With my current luck, I would probably head towards open ground when in reality I was running right towarsd the fire, completely unaware.

Despite this, I couldn't help but struggle to use my voice once more, fighting the darkness once more threatening to overtake me now that I had relaxed considerably and no longer had to move.

"Why-?" But I lost my voice. It barely came out as more then a mumble cough anyways.

He looked down at me, questioningly. "Eh? What did you say?"

Breaking the temporary fit of coughing I wheezed, pulling myself up, closer to him, so he could hear me better. It took considerable effort but I knew in a moment I'd be unconscious anyways, so, I might as well use up the rest of my energy now.

"Why," I inhaled, raggedly, but finished, "Are you helping me?"

He hesitated, then, to my ever-growing confusion, he smirked at me, wryly.

"Because you asked me to."

The confusion was clear on my face, I was positive of that. I tried to disgaree, form worsd to argue with the statement but I could not. And I didn't have time to try and figure anything else out as that peaceful blackness of unconsciousness finally overcame me. I felt my body go limp, head slumping against his chest. But even still, I fought.

"Zim . . ." I grunted, trying to demand answers. But it seemed all my energy had run out and my eyelids shut, the last of my adrenaline drained and I let myself fade, placing my trust in the hands of an alien boy who hated my brother's guts and who had, just this morning, argued with me.

And who, for some reason, had risked his life to save mine.

*I'll leave it up for you to decide whose point of view this was from. Maybe just third-person or an observer but I will tell you later!

HA! CLIFFHANGER TIME!

Yes, it's Zim.

DUN DUN DUN!

. . . Or is it? :D

You'll have to figure out where my insane mind is bringing you the next chapter. So, for now, you'll just have to wait.

Till then!