Dib was never entirely sure where he stood with Zim.
Even through four years of studying Zim, battling with him, and thwarting his psychotic schemes, Dib still didn't understand the smallest part of his rival's mind. It made him vaguely happy, that Zim was still such a mystery to him. But then, sometimes, it was frustrating, to never truly be able to predict a pattern in Zim's attacks, never able to hazard a guess as to what was going on behind the alien's feverish grin and glowing red eyes. Dib wondered, sometimes, whether Zim even realized that his only enemy was a child. And then there were other moments, where Dib thought that the alien was holding back… pulling his punches. Waiting for something. For what, though? Dib found himself wondering, more and more often now. For me to learn to drive? Go to college? Be allowed to drink?
There was really no way for Dib to tell. At least… not yet.
Dib placed his thin white hands onto his keyboard and began to type. The quick ticking seemed very loud in the heavy silence of his room.
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The elevator whooshed smoothly to the upper levels of Zim's base, and upwards still to the tasteless lime-green caricature of a building that Zim called his 'house'. The elevator disgorged him in a hall, and the Invader scrambled out and stood thinking, hatching the slapdash beginnings of plots in moments and discarding them just as quickly. What to do, what to do, to bring this planet to its knees when again and again his plans had failed or been foiled by the filthy Dib-creature?
The familiar name brought another thought to his mind. Dib, at least, would have a lot to think about with the sudden cessation of the almost-playful contests their battles had become. Now, the real test of the worm's mettle would begin. Zim's wide mouth curled into a grin, and he let out a high, wavering cackle at the very thought. There, there was one positive thing about this situation, and it was certain there were more, just waiting to fall into place, just waiting to be revealed to the might of ZIM.
The alien stormed into the living room. GIR was planted in front of the television, gorging himself on junk food, as usual. The little robot was wearing the body of his dog suit with the head dangling behind like a disturbing hood. The green plush fur of GIR's front was smeared with food; more was caked on his face. The SIR unit was staring, hypnotized, at the screen, where the Scary Monkey hopped about screaming and frothing at the mouth. The noise and the stench of the filth-infested human food GIR loved was an assault on Zim's senses. The Invader gave the scene a disgusted once-over, and then stormed over to the TV (avoiding a stickily spreading puddle of Poop Cola GIR had spilled) and turned it off.
Ahh. Silence.
Broken about a second later as GIR cut loose with a wrenching wail.
"Master! The Monkey! The Monkey, I loveded him! Where did he goooooo?"
The robot leaped from his seat to hurtle over to the television, leaving a trail of drifting candy wrappers. Zim was almost bowled over. GIR raced around the TV, in something of a panic.
"Monkey! Monkey! Where are you?! Come back! I promise to treat you good! I have cookies!"
Zim caught his raving minion by the flapping ears of his dog suit and hauled him away into a corner. Then he lifted the tantruming, screaming robot into the air (still by his ears) and just held him there.
Eventually, the robot quieted down. His wailing stopped as if someone had thrown a switch (granted, a switch probably had been thrown, somewhere inside his head), and two cyan, mindlessly cheerful eyes peered into Zim's own. GIR smiled, his tongue poking cutely out of the corner of his mouth. Then he started to swing himself slowly back and forth. Zim glared at him.
"Hi Master!"
Reassured that his slave had recovered from his fit, Zim set his robot down and began to peel GIR's soiled disguise off. GIR giggled softly, enjoying the attention.
"I made some cookies, Master. Do you want some?"
Zim finished peeling the suit off of GIR. He pinched a fold of the green fabric between his thumb and forefinger and held the limp, reeking costume as far away from himself as he could. Zim shuddered to think of the mess GIR had made in the kitchen, making his cookies. At least the great ZIM would not have to dirty his hands cleaning up after his robot; the computer could see to that.
"What FILTH have you caused with these… cookies, GIR?"
"D'you want one?!"
"No."
GIR looked stupidly up at Zim, apparently not convinced. "Are you suuuure?" he asked. "They're tuna-fish-chocolate-chip!"
The SIR unit produced a fishy-smelling cookie studded with chocolate chips, and proceeded to wave it temptingly in his master's face. Zim recoiled and gave his robot the evil eye.
GIR, completely oblivious, ate the cookie himself. Zim rapped on the robot's head to gain his attention. "Aaaanyway, GIR, I came to tell you to guard the house. I'm going out. Don't let anyone else in."
GIR's eyes flared red. "Yes, my Master! I obey!"
Zim went to put on his disguise, rapping out orders to the computer to "clean up that GERM-infested kitchen and get GIR another dog suit!" as he went. Zim dropped off the dirty disguise at the incinerator level; it was likely the fur had been permanently stained, and there were plenty of spares.
After Zim had placed the contacts onto his eyes and slipped a scratchy black wig over his sensitive antennae, he went out into the moist night air and turned his path towards Dib's house.
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Dib was jolted from his work-induced trance by Gaz banging rudely into his room and thumping him sharply on the head with her book. The skinny paranormalist switched off the monitor and twisted to look irritably at his sister. His back ached just a little from hunching for so long; without the pale glow of his monitor there was hardly any light in the room. Dib's blinds were pulled down, and thin striped of smoky orange light gave everything a sulpherous glow and made his bare back shine golden. The door was cracked slightly now too, and dim light slanted in, illuminating piles of dirty clothes and food-encrusted dishes. Gaz wrinkled her nose a little at the mess but didn't say anything.
"What do you want?" Dib finally asked her. It was hard to outwait Gaz when she was unwilling to speak, and the quicker she removed herself from his room the sooner Dib could get back to work.
"Zim's outside."
"So?"
"So go out there and talk to him, stupid. He asked for you."
"I don't care. Tell him to go away."
Gaz stamped lungingly forward. Dib flinched back fearfully against his desk, the smooth-grained wood digging into his bare back. Gaz grabbed a clump of dark hair and yanked his face close to her own. "I did. Twenty minutes ago. He's been banging on the door since then. Didn't you hear it?"
Dib slowly shook his head. Gaz snorted contemptuously.
"Well now you know, idiot! So go!" She released him and stepped back to pin him with an "or else" glare. Dib sputtered and recovered.
"At least let me put a shirt on, Gaz!"
His sister considered this. "Fine. But don't take too long, or you can go out there naked." Gaz walked over and stood in the doorway. "I'll go tell him you're coming."
Dib slammed the door behind her and muttered a soft curse. He really didn't want to go talk to Zim. Stupid Gaz; it was her fault. With as much junk food as she ate, he was surprised that she wasn't fifty pounds heavier. He wished that Gaz was a little chubbier; it might make her a little easier to dodge.
Dib began to sort through the piles of junk on his floor, looking for his trademark blue T-shirt with the bland grey face. Gaz's threat was most likely serious; she really would make her brother go out and face his enemy in the buff.
Dib leaped down the stairs two at a time. Gaz was slumped on the couch, hands folded over her stomach and expression unreadable. A plate with a piece of cold, greasy pizza sat on the low table in front of the couch. The TV was on, the volume low; Dib glanced at the flickering figures darting across the screen without any real interest. "I'm going now." He said, mostly to confirm it to himself. Gaz's ochre-colored eyes flicked towards him, but she made no other motion.
Dib didn't bother to put shoes on; he wasn't in the mood for a fight and if Zim had knocked on the door instead of simply bursting in, the alien probably wasn't feeling confrontational either.
The muggy air hit him like a wall as he stepped outside and closed the door. Summer was just starting and it was already miserably hot. The pavement was slick with rain. Streetlights spread orange halos across the street and sidewalk, and Zim was standing in the warm glow under a street lamp. He had retreated to the end of the drive to await his enemy. Dib was mildly disappointed; standing in the steps leading to his door would have given him a few extra inches and the added height seemed to intimidate his rival. But then, Dib supposed that it didn't really matter. Dib ventured out to the middle of their lawn and stopped there, waiting.
Zim, however, didn't seem inclined to venture closer. Dib could see him peering at the human through his ridiculous contacts, just staring coldly and blinking and not about to set foot on enemy territory. Stupid alien probably thought he had booby-trapped the lawn or something. Dib snorted softly to himself, irritated, and then gave in and walked slowly across the grass to stand on the sidewalk, about six feet away from his rival. The paving was pleasantly cool on the soles of his feet, but Dib could feel his shirt becoming damp with sweat. Zim seemed to be able to smell Dib's perspiration; his smooth green face wrinkled distastefully. Dib stood oozing sweat and wondering what the Hell the alien had dragged him out here for, banging at the door for twenty minutes and then not wanting to talk to his rival.
"What do you want?" Dib finally asked. This seemed to be his night for opening conversations.
Zim stared at him for another moment. Dib had the uncomfortable feeling that Zim was looking inside of his head, evaluating and making a judgment upon his enemy. Dib felt pinned and exposed.
The human had just started to think that his rival was never going to talk when Zim blinked slowly and said in a harsh voice, "This is all going to end soon. I just thought you might like to know."
Dib felt a slow curling of nervousness. Did Zim have some secret weapon concealed on his person, and had he brought it out here to be tested on Dib? Zim's normally expressive face was unreadable; there was no trace of the crazed glee that Dib was used to. Was Zim speaking to him as an equal? Was he serious, for once?
"…What?" Dib managed, still thinking furiously.
"You heard me." Zim stared at Dib with a look of sudden, ferocious contempt. Only a second, and they were no longer equals. "This farce, this game, it's ending. It's over. Obsolete."
Zim stepped closed to Dib, mindless of the smell, a twiggy green figure that only came up to the human's shoulder. He lowered his head aggressively. "We'll see what you're really made of now, human."
That said, he turned sharply on his heel and began to march quickly down the sidewalk away from Dib. It was surprising, how quickly the confrontation had turned to an unflustered retreat… and that had been a confrontation, hadn't it? Not like their usual ones, filled with wild chases and posturing. This one had been tamer, but somehow more… real. More serious.
Dib broke from his thoughts and began to chase after his rival. The time to get to the bottom of this was now.
The soft slaps of his bare feet made against the pavement could barely be heard against the stomping of Zim's boots, but the alien heard or sensed the approaching human somehow, and when Dib was two feet away reaching out a hand to place it on Zim's shoulder the alien whipped about and caught Dib's wrist tightly. The human recoiled slightly from Zim's expression, and the Invader felt a slight welling of satisfaction. It was rare that Zim had Dib really, truly scared, and the human was afraid now. Something had passed between them this night, standing quietly on the sidewalk, that made the human susceptible to this fear; in five minutes of quiet speech Zim had made more of an impression on Dib then he had in four years of constant battle with the human. Zim could feel Dib's wildly-fluttering pulse in his skinny arm, the too-warm, runny human blood racing through his veins carrying endorphins and adrenaline. Zim was suddenly aware of how empty and quiet the street around them was. Nobody passing by. If Zim chose to take steps and end this now, there would be nobody around to stop him… no filthy squealing pig-human to observe Dib's death and sound the alarm.
And what other human would care, truly? This was Dib, the friendless social outcast that Zim had studied, tormented, fought, allied himself with, for these long four years that he had been on earth. It would be easy to kill him right here.
Which was why the human would live… tonight.
Dib yanked his wrist away the moment Zim loosened his grip. Zim could see red marks on the humans pale skin; he supposed he'd been clenching his hand tighter then he thought. Dib backed away a little, rubbing at his wrist and shifting his weight from foot to foot. His eyes darted back and forth. The human was ready to run.
Zim stepped even closer to Dib, invading the human's personal space. Dib backed away a little, breathing quickly. He really was just a child, and he wanted to run away. Zim felt an overwhelming rush of contempt mingled with pity, and he stepped even closer to Dib, backing the human down the sidewalk. Zim stopped when Dib stumbled onto his lawn, allowing the child to back to a more secure distance. "See you tomorrow, Dib." Zim said, grinning. "I'd love to play, but I have things to do."
He turned away, and this time Dib didn't follow him.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
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Well, that was interesting, wasn't it? Things are happening, hurrah. I hope all those of you who liked the beginning aren't disappointed here.
Sorry for leaving this hanging for such an appallingly long period of time; I've been busy with all sorts of things, being a jock and keeping up with school and stuff. Sorry. My shoulders are so very sore, and when I started to type this I was feeling all floaty and shaky from an inhaler that I took. You see, I'm also trying to get rid of an EXTREMELY nasty cough. I felt rather as though I were on a bit of violently heaving sea; not bad, but strange. Fortunately I don't get seasick. Heh.
On a more on-topic note, something that always puzzles me is how Gaz remains thin in future fics. As a little kid, her metabolism is probably quick enough to make up for all the FAT she eats… but as a teen and an adult, that would slow down. Someday, I will write a future fic where Gaz is a porcine blob and Dib makes money by posing for Seventeen magazine. I guess she could be one of those naturally thin people but… argh!
And to conclude, thank you to my lovely, lovely reviewers. I adore you all. Want a foot rub? I'm here. It's really flattering to me, to have fan fiction authors I love and admire reading my little fic and liking it. Thanks to all of you!