Chapter 9

A Substantial Gift

(The Broken Zim)

"I can't believe this shit is real," Brandon said. "Zim has never been courageous, and I just can't see him saving the world."

"I have known him for sixteen years," Fitz said. "He has never been much in the ambition department. The man can barely handle his personal responsibilities. Are you sure it's supposed to be Zim?"

"I think he can do it," Bruni said. He drank deeply from the mug of ale.

"Great," Zim said. "The only one of my friends who has any confidence in me is the drunkard."

Bruni grinned. "You're welcome."

"Maybe we should get Bruni liquored up," Fitz said. "Maybe if Future Booze Jesus makes an appearance, we can get to the bottom of this."

"I approve."

"Of course you do, Bruni."

"Can we stop with the witty banter?" Angel asked. "We have the fate of the world in our hands."

"That sounds bloody familiar," Spike said, rolling his eyes. "Just once I would like to go out and kill an army of vampires and not have the world's fate be at stake."

"How am I supposed to save the world?" Zim asked. "I had a sword for, like, three minutes. I dropped it on the way to the van. Now the most dangerous thing I have on me is . . . I guess my keys are kind of sharp."

The Shelpshov demon held out his hand. "You will be armed with this."

Zim looked suspiciously at the Shelpshov demon's hand. It looked like he was holding nothing in a greasy, bulbous hand. Then he saw something peeking out. Reluctantly he took the offered object only to find it was merely a guitar pick. "What the hell is this?"

"THE PICK OF DESTINY!" Bruni roared.

"No," the Shelpshov demon said. "You will know how to use it when the time is right."

"That was mystical," Zim said.

"It feels nice to be on the other side of vague, mysterious statements," Spike said.

"This is bullshit," Zim said. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do with this."

"Why must the meat-thing make so many annoying sounds?" a voice from above asked. Everyone turned to see Illyria descending the stairs into the den. She carried two gigantic horns, presumably from the Vendrell demon.

"Am I the meat-thing?" Zim asked. "I don't know if I should be insulted."

"We're all meat-things to her," Connor said. "I know she sounds strange sometimes, but you get used to it."

"It reeks of Yobnak Sheffs down here," Illyria said.

"A group of them used to live here," the Shelpshov demon said.

"Enough with the small talk," Angel said. "What are we supposed to do next?"

The Shelpshov demon began speaking, but Zim zoned out. He was too busy looking at Illyria. Sure, she was weird-looking beyond all belief, but there was a certain air of hotness about her. If it was the end of the world, why not try to get laid one last time? Besides, if he really was supposed to be the savior everyone said he was, then she'd probably throw herself at his feet. What could it hurt?

He sidled over to her. "How's it going?"

"How is what going?" she asked.

"Uh . . . it. You know. How's it going?"

"You make no sense, meat-bag."

Zim pursed his lips. "Well, since we're working together at saving the world, I was thinking that we could, you know, go out for coffee sometime?"

"What is the meaning of this? There is coffee over there." She pointed to the demon's kitchen nook, and sure enough there was a pot brewing.

"No, I mean, well, you know."

"He's trying to say he fancies you, love," Spike said.

Illyria grimaced and looked like she was about to spit on Zim. "I would never come into such intimate contact with a creature as lowly as you. I can't believe this meat-bag has such gall!"

Zim looked like he was about to cry.

"Don't take it too harshly, mate," Spike said. He threw his arms around Zim's shoulders. "She's that way with everyone. Except for Wesley, of course, and even then I'm not too sure."

Zim gritted his teeth and snapped the guitar pick in two. There was a small spark of light, and smoke hissed from the crack.

"What did you just do?" the Shelpshov demon asked.

"Sorry," Zim said. "I broke your guitar pick."

"You what?!" Angel yelled.

"I'll get you another one," Zim said. "I can get 'em for a buck down at—"

"Three people gave their lives so we could get that guitar pick! It's a very special artifact!"

The Shelpshov demon wept. "Now we're all doomed."