(A/N: Here comes the plot! I hope you all like it, I worked for a while through some nasty Writer's Block.)

Review Replies: ngrey651: Thanks for the support. Sorry you won't be able to review on this unless you use an anonymous reply. I allow those.

Disclaimer: I won nothing in IZ but in this story I own Dib's hair, bad emo poetry (none in this chapter!), the Plan, Zim's OCD (mainly the number-counting), Gaz's autism, and anything else you don't recognize.

Chapter Three: Interspecies Exchange of Surrender

[[Itsa hal'okepr'etsu t'halkit'setsu wel'okerenkrasetsu-]](1)

Dib walked in to school in low spirits. He hadn't been able to obtain the proof he needed but he couldn't let Zim know that. He needed to keep his head high and his face impassive Remember...this is so you can dishearten him...break him down like he does to you. You obviously worried him when you told him about the machine cause he left early under the pretenses of a "resiliant H1-N1 strain". Use this against him. Don't let him know that you have nothing. Be steel.

He passed by a worried looking Zim as he went to his desk and smirked, "Hello space boy. Enjoying your last day as a 'normal HYUman smeetling-kind'?"

Zim said nothing but then he looked up and frowned, gulping back his pride. "Dib."

"Yes?" this was going to be intriguing, Zim didn't call Dib by name without the usual suffix of 'thing' or 'stink' or 'filth'.

It was.

Zim offered Dib as small, round, metal object. It was a PAK with a blue interface instead of the normal Irken pink interface. "Here," he said as he prompted Dib to take the device, "An uncoded PAK. I made it so that some part of the mighty Zim would remain in this world when he was dissected."

Dib stared at the alien, He's giving me a PAK?

Don't take it, some small part of his brain protested, Remember what happened last time you messed with a PAK?

Yeah, I do...,he reasoned with himself. He turned to Zim and asked, "Will this one try to take me over and make me you?" his question was cynical and his look was that of distrust.

Zim smiled and offered it again, "Do not worry Dib, it is a blank PAK, it has not been activated therefore it has no personality downloaded in it and it needs no host. Perfectly safe for a human, no threat whatsoever." You may find it to be useful at one point in time but until then it's just a hunk of metal built like a round Irken Swiss-Army-Knife.

Dib still didn't trust him. "And why are you giving me this? What will this accomplish? And don't give me this 'live on' bull you tried to pull earlier!"

Zim growled and swallowed an angry retort composed of mostly foul language. "Yyyyyyyesssss...I understand..." He came up with his answer in a second, "I just want you to remember me so that when you are living a normal life you will think of what once was and the fact that, although life will be more pleasant without me, it will also be not as much fun." It was killing him, not counting. How many words? How many syllables? He should have pre-prepared a speech! Anything to know there were no twos in his talk!

Dib stopped; warning flag! Where had he heard that line before? Where?...

Whatever...,Dib took the machine from Zim's gloved hands and immediately hissed in pain. Something had caught the soft skin in the pads of his fingertip on his middle finger. A single drop of blood oozed from the wound and Dib jammed the flange in his mouth.

Zim's grin widened. That was a pleasent, unexpected turn of events. That Dib would suck on the wound was something Zim hadn't deduced. Perhaps it would speed up the process...

Dib put the PAK in his messenger bag and turned away from Zim, "See you later you incompetent extraterrestrial invader!" Zim twitched but didn't respond. Nine and two...good and bad...what does this mean?

What would happen with his plan?

[[Toritsam'etsu weloarusetsu itsa nak'eettssuud'etsuderu- Arunakederu itsa wel'okeumaderu weloarui'tor f'tokerenetsuvekr'etsuren]](2)

Dib began to feel a tad off around fourth period, Military History. He wasn't sure exactly what was up but his head hurt and he was feeling light of breath. His chest was constricting and his vision was beginning to swim. And he was extremely lethargic; he didn't even write on his arm, he couldn't think of any poetry for her.

"Dib!" his Military History called out to him, his voice sounding very faint in his ears, "Pay attention!"

"Mmmmnnng...I am paying attention..." Dib moaned, covering his head with his arms.

"Well then, what were we discussing?" the teacher snapped back. A chorus of "Ooooooooh"s circulated the room. Dib tilted his head so one amber eye peeked out of the shade of his arms.

"D-day...," he said, growling through teeth clenched in pain. Surprised at the correct answer, the teacher continued on.

Why do I hurt? Dib asked himself, What did I do wrong? Is it tetanus? But I got my shot weeks ago, I remember cause my arm hurt like a bitch for a week after that...so what is it?

He drifted off in a dreamless, pain-free sleep.

[[Sestu-tor_ Sestu-tor_ Sestu-tor]](3)

Zim was antsy, when would it work? When would it begin? What would happen? Prisoner 777 had assured him that the process would take a while because of all the conversions that had to be made but Zim was so impatient! When? When? When? When would it be done? When could he relax and finally be free of this incessant doubt that plagued him like the pattern of twos that shadowed everyone's speech? And would it work as planned? When would he have to stop waiting for something that might not even come along anyways? When would his enemy finally keel over and die like he wanted? When?...

[[T'halketsu ca'lierokecath setsu-tor arunakederu itsa c'arunnaakkeeoketor weloarui'tor arunakeyaz lierokenakegosuetsuren# Itsa nak'eettssuuderu t'oke kranakeokewelo# Welohalkarutor h'arusetsu h'arupprreetthhetsunak'etsuderu/ Arume Itsa umanakederuokenak'etsu/-]](4)

Dib awoke in the infirmary; head splitting, ears ringing, sight dancing with neon spots, stomach doubling on itself, whole body screaming in pain. Pain. Pain! PAIN!

"Are you awake cow-boy?" Dib groaned at the nickname he had accumulated due to Zim. He hated that nickname.

"Mmmmnnng..." he groaned, voice muffled in his ears and yet louder, an auditory oxymoron. His stomach, pausing from its furious crunching, protested its emptiness with a loud roar. "M'hungry..."

"You think you can stand and walk to the lunchroom? I don't like food in here."

But your assistant eats a chilidog here every DAY and you say nothing! Aloud Dib nodded and mumbled a "Yes."

"Good then. Leave."

Cantankerous biddy! Dib growled in his head as he stood up and staggered out the door, toting his messenger bag alongside him. Were it up to me you would be fired in a second.

He trudged through the hallway towards the lunchroom, wincing every time a light flashed in his face or a loud noise assaulted his ears. He entered the lunchroom and almost screamed; thousands of smells, none of them pleasant, streamed into his nostrils and tore into his head. It hurt just to be in here! The food, the people, they all smelled of something and no matter how hard he plugged his nose the smells would not dissipate.

He staggered over to Gaz (who smelt of elderberries) and sat down, tossing his bag on the ground. She looked up, one eye slitting open.

"Well look who's awake, the cow-boy," she sneered.

Dib groaned and pulled out his lunch, "Shuttup Gaz..."

"Don't tell me to shut up Dib...you were late," she growled dangerously, fists clenched, her GameSlave on the table; all were signs of a breakdown.

Dib didn't care. He was hurting, he felt sick, and right now he didn't want to even be here. So, instead of being the good brother he tried to be on a daily basis, he ducked his head down and dug into his sandwich. Ten seconds later he was spitting the roast-beef (not bologna mind you, not after THAT fiasco...) and bread out and clawing at the food that had seemingly fused itself to his trachea.

"Gaz...eechh! H-help me!" His sister just watched, unclenching her fists and picking up her GameSlave. He extended one thin arm out to her, pleading. She walked off as the bell rang.

When the convulsions stopped, Dib staggered to the water fountain and took a long gulp only spit it out again, screaming as it sizzled against his skin. He wiped the last drops of perspiration from his skin and stood erect. What's going on? Sudden allergies to food I've eaten for years, lethargy, pains in my stomach, hyper-sensitivity, reaction to running water...am I becoming a vampire? He stood straighter than before and grabbed his bag, hoisting it up on his shoulder, and walked towards the main office. I'll check myself out, go home, rest, and see if this is what I think it is or if it's just a bug. Yeah..., he nodded, That's what I'll do.

Unbeknownst to him, Zim had watched the entire debacle with pride. It is working, he thought. It is going exactly as planned. Good...

And then he walked away from the scene, satisfied.

[[F'tits'arunakelliieeryaz Itsa weloarusetsu t'oke b'etsu setsuaruf'tetsu-]](5)

Translations:
(1) Itsa hal'okepr'etsu t'halkit'setsu wel'okerenkrasetsu- Phonetic Irken: I hope this works
(2) Toritsam'etsu weloarusetsu itsa nak'eettssuud'etsuderu- Arunakederu itsa wel'okeumaderu weloarui'tor f'tokerenetsuvekr'etsuren Phonetic Irken: Time was all I needed. And I would wait forever
(3) Sestu-tor# Sestu-tor# Sestu-tor Phonetic Irken: [ticking noise]
(4) T'halketsu ca'lierokecath setsu-tor arunakederu itsa c'arunnaakkeeoketor weloarui'tor arunakeyaz lierokenakegosuetsuren# Itsa nak'eettssuuderu t'oke kranakeokewelo# Welohalkarutor h'arusetsu h'arupprreetthhetsunak'etsuderu/ Arume Itsa umanakederuokenak'etsu/-]]( Phonetic Irken: The clock tik-toks and I cannot wait any longer! I need to know! What has happened? Am I undone?...
(5) F'tits'arunakelliieeryaz Itsa weloarusetsu t'oke b'etsu setsuaruf'tetsu- Phonetic Irken: Finally I was to be safe...