Author's Note: I've been wanting to write a Phantom of the Opera/Invader Zim crossover for a while... o.o Ever since AF and I (huge 'phans', yes we are) came up with the idea in Oregon Trek of DOOM to have the cast put on the play at Fort Laramie, I've totally fallen in love with POTO/IZ crossovers... provided they place Zim in the role of Erik. The similarities between those two characters are just... too there. I hadn't yet written a fic dedicated exclusively to POTO/IZ, and now I am seeing a few fics of that particular crossover around on FFN. This makes me very happy. ^.^ And I wanted to write one as well... so here it is! Much thanks to Tif (CrimsonObsession) for the original inspiration, the idea of having the play performed in Zim's skool. Also, Invader Zim and all related characters belong to Jhonen Vasquez, and Phantom of the Opera belongs to Gaston Leroux, Andrew Lloyd Webber, etc...
--
It was another glorious, glorious day for doom. Or, it would've been, had Zim not been trapped in this filthy, disgusting classroom where Ms. Bitters droned on about what was normally his favorite subject. A gloved hand tapped a pencil impatiently on the desk, glaring up at the clock. Being forced to run with the human adherance to time was irritating. Even more irritating that a mighty Invader like himself had to sit in this stagnating pool of human filth for seven hours of his day. There was so much he could be doing indeed, even now random ideas and schemes were playing through his mind, chasing each other back and forth only to be pushed out by new ones. Ideas, these were his forte, it was the application of them that always seemed to go so inexplicably wrong.
And that, children, was when the social revolution began to degenerate all of society's free time into a rut of wasteful Ms. Bitters' scratchy voise grated against Zim's mind, and his antennae attempted to twitch under the stifling cover of his wig. He gazed up at the clock. Almost time almost there
The bell rang. It was a release; Zim's muscles involuntarily relaxed as he began to slip into the mind-state of one about to go home and possibly get something done. He had no all-encompassing plans for today, but, his AMAZING mind was sure to come up with something if not, there was always the checklist of standard procedure to--
And tomorrow, I will be randomly selecting members of this class to participate in the drama club. Ms. Bitters continued her droning as the students filed out of the classroom. Zim slid from behind his desk with a sigh. A drama club? What was that? Some hideously huuuuuman pastime no doubt. Just what he did NOT need to occupy his valuable time!! There was no drama club that could possibly contain anything of interest to an Irken Invader, that was for certain.
No, Dib. That irritating doomish drone was still there in the background. You may not borrow a hall pass.
Even if it were for the sake of saving all mankind??
Mankind is already doomed. Save your energy for contemplating the doomed existence you have to live as a part of it.
Zim gritted his teeth. Pathetic human, always trying to get in his way if only that disgusting Dib would stay out of his way, things would be so much more pleasant.
Hey, Zim!
So much for a quiet afternoon. Zim, resolved to ignore the obnoxious human, strode out of the classroom and down the hall. He heard footsteps behind him, and, angry for some reason, broke into a run, fleeing out the skool doors and down the sidewalk. Why couldn't that miserable earth monkey leave him alone? Alls he was doing was prolonging the pain; Zim's conquest of this dirtball was assured
Dib watched as the alien fled down the sidewalk. I'll get you, Zim he muttered. Even without a hall pass. An amber-eyed glare was directed briefly back at the skool building before Dib headed off down the sidewalk towards his own house.
--
The next day was marked by a decided difference in Zim's demeanor, Dib noticed as he stepped into the classroom. Up late last night working on another of his evil plots, no doubt Dib glanced over the class as a dozen pairs of eyes turned to fix on him; the remaining pairs just didn't care enough. Zim looked haggard, the contact lenses he wore starting to fade pink around the edges. Deep circles sallowed Zim's face under the eyes, and his wig was slightly askew. Nevertheless, the alien managed a hefty glare at his nemesis.
Late AGAIN, Dib? Ms. Bitters snarled, leaning over her desk.
Sorry Ms. Bitters, Dib said emphatically. I wanted to make sure of what the cafeteria ladies are putting in the lunches.
Crisco and apple seeds, Ms. Bitters snapped. Sit down.
Squinting an eye at Zim, who returned it with a less heartfelt glare, Dib went obediently to his seat. He leaned back in his chair, gazing upwards at the desolate, flat-tiled ceiling. Rows and rows of tiles straight lines so constricting like rulers or runway lights or guitar frets or—
Thump. Dib sat up straight and looked over at Zim, whose head had fallen onto his desk, arms limp on either side.
As I was saying yesterday, Ms. Bitters droned scratchily, glaring at the downed alien, The drama club is short a few members, so I will be selecting volunteers from this class to assist.
Dib raised a hand and waved it.
Yes, Dib? Ms. Bitters said, an unmistakeable hiss to her voice.
Isn't the drama club just a group of goth and hippie wannabes with a box full of broken props? Dib asked.
Ms. Bitters growled. Unfortunately, some of them are on the skool board.
Oh man Dib grimaced, and hunkered down in his seat, hoping he wouldn't be the one the teacher selected for drama club duty. As it was, the entire class was now staring up at Ms. Bitters, eyes glazed and staring, waiting the tension in the room grew, tickled the hairs at the back of Dib's neck; all of it focused on Ms. Bitters' gnarled finger that cast around the room like the limb of a shaky string puppet.
Not me Dib chanted to himself. Not me not me not me—
Ms. Bitters snapped, and Dib groaned, opening his eyes miserably to see the crooked finger pointing directly at him. You're going. And you, Melvin. Smeedge. Penny. And Ms. Bitters paused, that finger again hovering doomishly over the class. It came to rest pointed straight at the limp alien sprawled across his desk. ZIM, who couldn't possibly be more of a doomed failure.
Zim lifted his head groggily, stared at Ms. Bitters, then let it drop again onto the desk with a thump. Dib found himself eyeing the alien; in this weakened state, it might not be too hard to subdue him Dib had given up on the hall pass idea, for now at least, but he had more cards than that up his sleeve.
--
He shouldn't've come to skool today. He had better things to do much more AMAZING and fruitful things to do. The contacts he wore stung his eyes, and his vision was tending to blur every time he tried to focus on something. Blast these filthy stink-beasts and their stagnating buildings of pathetic concrete where they gathered like maggots on a corpse for no reason other than their parents put them there.
But Zim had done some investigating' last night, and had begun to throw into effect a new plan, one that perfectly utilized this drama club. Unfortunately, it had taken all of last night, leaving no time for him to sleep before skool unfortunately made its headway. Curse it at least, he was in the club now. His computer had called a drama club a group of humans involved in a dramatic production'. Obviously they did something important here on Earth. And so Zim had determined, after much GIR-assisted research on the psychology of dramatism in humans, that he must produce drama. He wasn't sure how this was done but he was sure he'd find out. Tomorrow. After he got some sleep.
--
As it turned out, the drama club was meeting right after skool. Dib, anxious to get home and go back to work on his HydroTazer 6000, was not very happy about this his only consolation was that Zim, too, was trapped in this madness, and so couldn't be up to anything weird or evil or mind-controlling while Dib was detained. That didn't make it good, but it made it better. As it was, they walked on opposite sides of the hall, Melvin, Penny and Smeedge between them, and kept a wary eye on every movement the other made.
The drama club was supposed to meet in the auditorium. Incidentally, the auditorium was the same as the cafeteria, the gym, and the skool board meeting room. Although it did have a stage, over which the curtains remained closed during the other uses of the room. Stepping into the darkened room, the five paused, listening to the last sounds of children screaming for joy and jumping out of windows as if they were faraway echoes, fading farther and farther away until all hope of going with them had disappeared.
The curtains moved. Voices whispered on the other side, and then a pale hand pushed the curtain aside and peered out at them.
You're late. The girl was an eighth grader in the skool, dressed in black clothes and safety pins, and always seemed to have dark, heavy makeup on. Dib found himself less and less eager to go over there, and Zim seemed to share his conviction, as both held their ground. Melvin, Penny, and Smeedge obediently crossed the room and climbed past the girl onto the stage.
Zim fixed another glare on Dib, as if this were his fault, and lifting his head up, he marched towards the stage. Dib sighed harshly and followed him. The eighth grader disappeared back into the depths of the stage.
--
What do you mean we're picking roles out of a hat? Dib whined. Aren't we going to try out? Aren't most of us going to be doing backstage work anyway?
Zim snapped. ZIM will have the greatest dramatic role imaginable! And you will all BOW before my amazingness at being dramatic!
Well, you've convinced me, the eighth grader, whose name was June, said as she rolled her eyes, shoving the hat full of paper slips underneath Zim's nose or lack of such. It was something odd about this kid with a skin condition', but oddity was appreciated in her crowd. She tried to imagine how the boisterous green child would look in black leather and buckles. She scrutinized while he ruffled through the paper slips, casting suspicious glances at Dib all the while. Not good, she finally decided.
Zim finally selected a scrap of paper and pulled it out, raising it triumphantly in the air. I laugh at you, DIB-MONKEY!! For ZIM has the best part!! He cackled.
You don't even know what it is, Dib snapped. Zim glared at him, then grandly unfolded the slip of paper and looked down at it.
Backstage light duty, he said, looking down at the paper. What?? No mysterious and AMAZING character for ZIIIIM!?
It's what you drew, June said with a sigh. Lighting is very important, anyway we're doing Phantom of the Opera, remember?
Zim glowered darkly. I knew that.
Silently, June passed the hat around to the rest of the kids. If only they hadn't had to draft a bunch of fourth and fifth graders she felt that this production was destined to be a flop, but drama was her life, as it was Alma's, and Miri's. Although Alma wasn't here today she was almost never here.
--
Dib said, staring down at his slip of paper.
Zim crowed. The foolish DIB thinks he has a chance at besting ZIM's role! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Honestly, can't you be quiet? the sixth grade member of the drama group, Miri, a girl dressed exactly like June, asked.
I'm practicing my dramatic role! Zim huffed, with another glare at Dib.
You don't have a dramatic role, June said absently, and got out a pen. Now, everyone tell me what it says on your slip of paper.
What about you? Dib demanded. You didn't pick one.
I'm working backstage, she said. Honestly, how would I fit in on stage with a bunch of little kids?
Zim said, straightening up and glaring at her. ZIM is no kid!
Dib held his breath for a moment, then spoke up. He's not! He's an alien!
June and Miri stared at Dib for a long moment, looked at each other, then burst into snickers. Zim, who had been standing rigidly with wide eyes, turned to sneer at Dib. Oh well Dib thought. It was worth a shot. He returned Zim's sneer with a glare of his own.
Now then June said, recovering. Tell me your roles.
--
How unquestionably, despicably, FILTHY! Not only was the mighty ZIM forced into this hideous predicament, he was too worn out to do more than direct hateful feelings towards his nemesis. He did not even have a dramatic role!! And it was insufferably hard to be constantly surrounded by the sheer obnoxiousness and noise and worse, the smell of these filthy pig monkies surrounding him on all sides. The dust that coated the backstage area was not helping, either. It aggravated his contact lenses and made his antennae squirm madly under the wig. He wanted to go home, cast off this hideously uncomfortable disguise, and relax for a while. Maybe turn some new ideas over for eliminating Dib.
Now, the script June was saying. I'm giving each of you a copy to read when you get home tonight. Drama club will meet after skool tomorrow, right here. Everyone be there understand? Heads nodded obediently in the unlit backstage as June and Miri passed around the scripts. Zim snatched his from the hand of one of them and stalked off the stage with the exiting crowd of kids. He tried to read it, but the words kept blurring on the paper.
Cursed human script, he grumbled, as he tried to focus. No good he couldn't read it now. He needed rest. Zim picked up his pace, eyes half-closed, and headed out of the skool and towards home.
--
Dib called, leaping up and down to get a view over the crowd of his sister. I didn't know you got pulled into the drama club too!
Don't whine about it, she snapped, tapping voraciously away at the buttons of her Gameslave. Dib weasled his way through the small crowd to stand next to her, and started scrutinizing his script. They had all the roles in the same hat he mused. Raoul's a guy isn't he? he started flipping through the script, scanning for where his character's name came in.
Gaz said. Tap tap, click, beep.
Hey, this role doesn't look so bad! Dib said, flipping pages of the photocopied script. I'll have to read this over tonight what part did you get, Gaz?
Madame Giry, she said. Now leave me alone, Dib, I've got six more levels to beat. She slowed her pace, letting her brother pull ahead of her.
sure.. Dib said absently, and continued on towards home, thumbing through the script.
--
Later that night, as a small silvery robot with glowing blue optics sat tossing a pink rubber piggy up into the air, it noticed a sort of deranged cackling coming from the other end of the room. It was so interesting down in the base here, full of buttons and cables and glowing lights. GIR knew better than to touch anything, but sometimes that remembrance escaped its frayed circuits. The robot looked up from its pig, staring over at the small Irken which sat hunched over a counter, cradling a stack of paper between his claws.
sniggered Zim, as he flipped another page of the script. WAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!! You dare trifle with the PHANTOM, Raoul-stink!? Another bout of maniacal laughter echoed throughout the room.
The robot gazed for a moment, then got to its feet and skipped happily over towards its master. What iiis iiit? it cooed, peering curiously over its master's shoulder.
Zim lifted his head and regarded the robot for a moment. This, GIR! This is the key! I shall HAUNT AN OPERA HOUSE!!! These foolish pig-monkies are so gullible to such things! With this amazing plaaan I shall become LORD OF HUMAAANS!!
The robot's eyes widened. You're in a plaaaaay!! it giggled, sticking its pink tongue out. GIR held its piggy out to Zim, squeeking it madly. Piggy can help you practice your liiiiiines!!
Geh.. stop at once, GIR! Zim grumbled, pushing the rubber pig aside. No, this is BIGGER than a mere play. I thought to bend the humans to my will through my AMAZING production of drama, but THIS is even BETTER!
But I thought you were doin' LIGHTS! squeeked GIR, holding the piggy up again.
Zim narrowed his eyes. Curse that HAT curse that DOOMISH HAT!!!! CUUUUUURSE IIIIT!! GIR, this will be remedied the role of PHANTOM belongs to none other than the amazing ZIM..
GIR gazed up at its master, blue optics shimmering. I seeeee what you meeeeaan
--
Timmy. His name was Timmy. Zim scowled darkly, looking at the large-eyed seventh grader with tousled brown hair. Why did this.. filthy WORM get the role of the amazing PHANTOM!? It was not right. That role belonged to Zim and Zim would have it. The Irken narrowed his eyes dangerously. Any that stood in the way of ZI—confound these LENSES!! Zim growled and rubbed his eyes. He heard Dib snickering at him, but he ignored it.
Now all of you who are in a dramatic role need to be practicing your lines at home. Every night, June was saying. That way, when we do rehearshals here, you'll be able to pay more attention to how you're interacting with the other actors. You also have to sing Dib, can you sing? Timmy? Jessie? You three have the most important roles.
I can sing, Dib said, with a smug glare at Zim. Zim stood there, fuming. An INVADER could sing better than ANY of these filthy human worms! How was it that the mighty Phantom disposed of his victims? Zim absently tugged a cord from the abandoned props box, grimacing at the dust that accompanied its exit. Cackling madly to himself, he started twisting it into a noose
June repeated. Can you sing?
mumbled the downcast boy. He was quiet and a bit odd, not the best choice for the Phantom, perhaps, but he would do. He always seemed so well.. depressed. He'd make a great addition to the goth crowd one of these days. Maybe he was a poet.
she said encouragingly. Timmy shuffled his feet. Dib sighed in the background. Can I sing, June? he asked, with a glance at the green kid who was messing with something over near the props box.
Go ahead, June replied.
--
Curse this.. this human WIRE! Inferior human tools and objects and equipment they blunted Zim's AMAZING skill terribly. He struggled with the knot, trying to figure out how to get it to lynch when it was pulled on. The sound of singing made his antennae twitch underneath the wig, and he grumbled. That disgusting huge-headed monkey was showing off his horrid excuse for talent was he? Zim would show him. He would show them all that he was meant for the role of PHANTOM.
Zim's claws finally slid the knot together, and he tested it briefly, then grinned maliciously, looking back over at the group.
--
I didn't like that expression on Zim's face today, Gaz Dib said thoughtfully as he walked home after the drama club with his sister. I know he's up to something. Did you see what he was messing with back in the props box?? Probably some hideous alien mind-controlling device!
So what? Gaz said, and neglected to say any more, as they reached their house and she stepped in through the door. Dib sighed.
don't you have to practice your lines?? he asked, tagging along after her. I can help you! I can't wait to face Zim down for this one he didn't even get a dramatic role!
Be quiet, Gaz snapped, settling down on the couch and turning on the TV.
Gaz, really! There's something wrong about all this! What he's doing! I need to keep an eye on him
Then go! she growled. But Dib was already out the door.
--
The next day at skool crawled slowly. Zim was on a bathroom break' again, and every minute that ticked past on the clock made Dib's pencil tap more neurotically against the desk. What was that evil alien up to? Zim had been missing since lunchtime, and although Dib had noticed that he hadn't returned to the room, there was nothing he could do about it not the way Ms. Bitters kept glaring at him. Dib would swear she hated him more than anyone else in the class.
His eyes still on the clock, Dib tapped the pencil faster. What was Zim doing?
--
And so you know that old saying, June told the wide-eyed group of kids. She trailed off at their blank stares in the musty darkness, and swallowed hard. The show must go on. This is.. a setback—
I KNEW you were up to something evil, Zim!! That's it! This is the end of it! You can't DO things like this!!! Dib's shout rang through the auditorium, filtering into the darkness of the stage.
Silence, pathetic WORM-MONKEY!! Zim hissed back. I have no idea what you're talking about!
Oh, you can lie all you want, ZIM! But I know! I'll always know! Don't think you can get away with this!
Miri sighed, got up, and went over to push the curtain side. she yelled. ZIM! Quit blaming each other and get back over here! We still need to pick someone for the new role!
June watched her colleague, wondering. Even if it was just a suicide albeit in very Phantom style with a tightly knotted steel noose was it still a good idea to forget about it so soon? She hadn't known Timmy, no one had but still, it was a regret. This show could be great.
Zim was yelling. I will be the PHANTOM!! Give the role to ZIM!!
NO! We're going to choose this careful—
I AM THE PHANTOM!!! DO NOT QUESTION ME!!! YOU WILL SEE HOW MY DRAMATIC EXECUTION WILL AMAAAZE YOOOOUUU!!!
Miri gave June an agonized glance, and the older girl shook her head. Just give it to him.. it'll shut him up.
Miri turned back to Zim. You can HAVE the role! Okay?? Now both of you get up here! A moment later, a haughty Zim marched back onto the stage, followed by a furious and barely-controlled Dib.
How can you give him that role!? Dib said desperately to June. Can't you see he was the one who noosed Timmy!?
Dib, don't make accusations like that. Why would he noose Timmy? Miri said irritably.
Because he wants to be the Phantom!!! Why else!?
I really don't think he'd do it just for that, June said, pointing her pen sharply at Dib. He just wanted the role and got a lucky break we did pull names out of a hat, after all.
How am I the only one to see it!? Dib wailed. Why can't you see what he IS!?
He's a maladjusted fifth grader, June said.
Like you, added Miri.
Dib stared at them for a moment, met only by their unforgiving, nonunderstanding gazes, then sank down against the wall. No one gets it, he muttered to himself miserably. Shut up, Zim.
The cackling continued Zim, standing with a plastic mask grabbed from the props box, was holding it over his face as the eerie laughter continued, growing more and more maniacal.
Alright, Zim— June said. There's more to it than that. You need to practice the lines, sing
The laughing continued, and Zim lifted both hands into the air. ZIM DOES NOT NEED TO PRACTICE!! he howled with glee, a grin spread widely across his face and a malicious glint in his eyes. June had to admit that his demeanor was exceedingly creepy maybe he would make a passable Phantom. If he practiced his lines.
Club dismissed, she said, standing up. Tomorrow's Saturday everyone be here at 2 in the afternoon for our first rehearsal. Don't be late. And I'm going to get Alma to come this time, too June thought as she headed out of the auditorium through the group of younger kids. Fitting that a hideously ugly green kid with no nose and a skin condition was going to play the Phantom after all, that was why the character wore a mask. She smiled to herself. This might work better than anticipated.
--
Rehearsal taking up a good three or four hours of his Saturday when he could be working to stop Zim. Dib was seriously worried about what Zim was planning with this entire play he threw himself into the role, that was true, his execution of the lines and the songs was nearly perfect and improving. He'd gained the admiration and respect of the three original members of the drama club—one of them an eighth grader in jeans, clogs, and tye-dye who he'd never seen before and didn't seem to be doing much besides act spaced out. June was the real organizer and director Miri had gotten a dramatic role. She was Carlotta, the prima donna.
It wasn't that Dib minded his role. He was Raoul, the young aristocrat who was attempting to save the singer, Christine, from the evil wiles of the Phantom. No, it wasn't that Dib minded it was the seriousness with which Zim was taking this play. There was something dark and sinister about Zim recently that Dib couldn't quite place, a kind of evil purpose waiting to be fulfilled. The alien could sing, and June was absolutely delighted with how well he fit the role. The arrogance of his demands to Christine and the Opera House, the very convincing execution of hypnotism oh, Zim was good at hypnotism. It had become his forte, Dib thought bitterly. There was no way he would let himself fall prey to it again, never in a million years. He was honestly worried though, about the girl playing Christine her name was Jessie, and although friendly enough to everyone, she seemed to Dib to be a little too affected by Zim's singing and performance. Maybe she's just a good actor, Dib nervously tried to convince himself. But he couldn't help feeling that it went past that.
June's voice broke through his musings. You're on now. With a sigh, Dib stepped across the ropes littering the stage to where Christine' was waiting in her dressing room. But he kept an eye on Zim, who was lurking near the curtain in the shadows. The alien was glaring at him, and Dib could almost see, if he looked hard enough, the burning crimson orbs through the contact lenses.
--
Zim could not withhold his sense of triumph as opening night approached. He was, at the moment, holed up in his lab, dually reading with intense earnesty two books. The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux, and Phantom by Susan Kay. They presented different pictures, it was true, but they were informative. The sheer power behind this character seriously appealed to Zim too bad it was only fiction for the filthy humans to entertain themselves with. Well not for long. Zim cackled under his breath. There were certain weaknesses that afflicted Erik, the Phantom, that Zim knew would never afflict HIM. He was an Invader after all. These ridiculous emotions' were not for Soldiers. Zim was, then, better than the Phantom he would not be stricken with that particular plague. His reign would be ultimate Zim grinned to himself again as he turned a page.