Rolling his eyes at the view the prison-cam gave, Zim went back to work. GIR could be quite amusing—and equally annoying—at times. If only I could somehow lock him in duty mode. Shuddering, he remembered what had happened the last time he had done that. GIR had made his locked mind up that Zim was a danger to his own project. "Me, the great Zim! Danger to my own project. I must run analysis on GIR's central computer someday and find the malfunction. If he has a central computer. " He sighed as he clasped his claws behind his head. "The Tallest always did like to play tricks."
………………………………………………………….
He heard the footsteps ringing down the hall. Anxiety clenched his stomach and he carefully rolled his head around. In the few hours he had been locked into the force field, he had quickly learned that moving an inch in any direction would deliver a powerful charge. Leave it to Zim. He thought bitterly.
Zim strode into view, pushing a lifter. Dib strained his eyes, but could not see what was on it; it was too high up. Noticing Dib's curiosity, Zim lowered the lifter to eye level.
Dib's heart stopped.
Piled on the lifter were hundreds of instruments, some sharp, some so technologically advanced he had no idea what they were. Dib's lips parted to form words, but all his mouth would do was open and close.
Zim did not explain. They both knew what he was there to do. Grinning sadistically, Zim threw back his head and let loose a long, evil laugh. Raising something that resembled a scalpel, he cried, "I AM ZIM!"
Then it began.
