Eternal Rivals
Summary: Even with civilization falling to pieces around them, Zim was determined that they continue their deadly game, that Dib never diverted his attentions, and that his young rival remained the same enemy he met so long ago.
-(A/N): I could have brought in a load of OCs for this chapter to fill out a bit of the character roster, but quite honestly, I just don't like making OCs at all. Scratch that, I actually hate making them. I'd much rather try my hand at writing characters in the show that I don't like than go through that big hassle. Despite the negativity, I'd like to think I did relatively well. On yet another note, I think I'm going to stop believing I can get a chapter out every week or so, because clearly it's just not working anymore.
-"Rebel souls... Deserters we are called. Chose a gun, and threw away the sun. Now these towns, they all know our name. Six-gun sound, is our claim to fame. I can hear them say...Bad Company, but I won't deny. Bad, Bad Company, til the day I die. Til the day I die!" –Theme song of Bad Company
No sooner had the black leather settled around Dib's back, the door burst open again and crashed against the wall as a young woman with shoulder-length light purple hair stomped into the command center, her bright eyes flashing everywhere impatiently. What must have previously been a rather fashionable skirt and long-sleeved shirt were now hacked at and dirtied with grime, mostly covered by a padded vest and thick gloves. High steel-toed boots adorned her legs, though the soles looked as though they already were in the process of falling apart, and appeared to have been made for a guy instead from the make. It was as though she had taken them from someone else. Even before getting completely into the room, the girl was already snappishly making her presence known to all within.
"I heard you came back already. Gaz, did you manage to..." The woman faltered and stopped talking completely when her eyes fell upon Dib, the boy standing awkwardly as he struggled to come up with a good greeting for her. There was an incredible shock in her face and from that, Dib came to the strange realization of how familiar she looked. Before either of them could continue however, there was a groan of irritation from Gaz in the corner, rising from her brief slumber from the other girl's loud entrance.
Rubbing her forehead, the dark shadows under the annoyed girl's eyes was noticeably more pronounced than before, again prompting Dib to wonder just how much rest she must have missed during the whole rescue operation. "God, will you ever figure out how to keep your voice down, Zita?" Those words caused the boy to shift his gaze instantly to the young woman, recognizing her now as an older, more roughed up version of the schoolmate he knew so long ago. Dib had never liked her much, as the girl fit snugly into the role of one of his chief tormentors, but the sight of her now was shocking to say the least. Of course, Dib wasn't the most shocked person in the room by far.
Zita only managed to point at him and start to open her mouth to question Gaz before the sleepy young woman interrupted, "I don't know how it happened so don't bother asking. And he doesn't know either." Dib hadn't actually told Gaz anything about not knowing technically, but it was true anyway so he wasn't going to complain. Still, the older girl didn't look the slightest bit happy about her speech being cut off so abruptly, throwing Gaz a dirty look that made the boy suspect that the two of them did not get along well at all, shaking her head and dragging out a chair with a loud screech at the table to take a seat. Gaz sat up straighter, her dark eyes lined with suspicion, "Does that bother you?"
"You always have to act like such a vicious little know-it-all..."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me, you cold-blooded woman," There was absolutely no hesitation with the insult.
"Yeah, so what? And like I give a damn what a bitch like you thinks."
"Were you even the slightest bit surprised?" The two girls exchanged a harsh glare. And suddenly Gaz rose to her feet abruptly, her chair wobbling and nearly clattering to the ground while Dib stood off to the side, confused and unable to think of a way to calm them down. There seemed to be lots of tension here that the boy didn't really know the cause of, and quite frankly didn't want to be caught up in.
"Now you're just whining. I did what needed to be done. I brought Dib back and I'm not going to be complaining about what he goddamn looks like," Gaz's right hand was on the table now, almost snarling at the other, while the other crept to the dagger at her side. Zita wrinkled her nose but didn't flinch away, remaining sitting stiffly were she was with one hand poised to draw her holstered pistol.
"Would you two rather I left first?" Dib spoke up for the first time since Zita's arrival then, his hands raised in front of his face in a weak attempt to placate them, not entirely certain if saying anything was the right thing to do. Clearly these two got along just a tad bit better than he did with Zim, despite the fact that both girls were actually supposed to be on the same side. Gaz seemed to immediately settle down after hearing him interject and Zita jumped surprise as if forgetting that the boy was even still in the room, reddening slightly and looking away.
"No, I'm done with dealing that psycho for today, so you can try to find a way to deal with her," Instantly after her bluntly worded put down, Gaz slumped back into her chair as if the effort of getting angry sapped all the rest of her strength. However, before a retort could make its way out of the older girl's mouth, the other interrupted again, "You'd better give him the grand tour, Zita. Medic first. I'd rather not have any more blood stains around here."
Oh yeah right, bandages.
Dib was a little embarrassed that he had actually forgotten about that. He was still bleeding, wasn't he?
Zita practically spat at her, "Don't you dare tell me what to do, Gaz!" This was in vain, as the younger teen had already fallen asleep in her chair, the low rumble of her breathing much more relaxed than before. Sighing she shrugged switched her gaze over to Dib, who stepped back involuntarily, still not certain whether or not she was still so utterly pissed off. "Pshhh...whatever, medic first, right? I guess you might as well know what's going on with our operation here..." The boy very much doubted whether she wanted to show him around by the edged tone of her voice, but he had no choice now. He spared one last look at the sleeping Gaz before taking a deep breath and following the other girl out the door. He still felt rather shaky; likely aftereffects of the food and altitude he was stuck with for so long.
Dib felt himself becoming more and more critical with the group's defenses with each second that passed, casting much sharper eyes over crumbling walls and badly subpar equipment, knowing that it wouldn't be enough to defend them when—not if—they'd have to withstand attack from Zim. After all, it was only a matter that he would retaliate now that Dib had escaped from him. Maybe this is what Gaz was talking about earlier, that he might have a plan to get this resistance up on its feet.
Although he hadn't quite nailed down anything specific just yet, but for a few scant ideas that could extend their life expectancy. However, without a few more details, he didn't feel like disclosing any of those ideas to Gaz or definitely not Zita yet.
It wasn't until the two of them had stopped at a white-washed door that the boy brought himself back to his immediate surroundings, finding the words "Nurse's Office" written on a well-worn plaque above the entrance. Dib stiffened, remembering the nurse from years ago who had turned out to be so much blinder to the truth than he had hoped for, "Don't tell me it's the same woman as before?"
Zita flashed a confused glance before understanding hit her, "Her? Oh no, I don't know what happened to the old nurse. We do what we can with what we've got anyway."
What was that supposed to mean?
She didn't give him a chance to inquire further, knocking sharply on the smooth wood with her knuckles and pushed the door open without even waiting for a reply from the inside before continuing. The room within was much changed from six years ago, and the moment Dib stepped inside, the smell of strong antiseptic and dried blood hit him like a sack of bricks. Most of the pale rest beds along the walls were occupied by injured men and women, some of which were crying out and some barely looked any older than Gaz. A large table had been dragged in from somewhere—as evidenced by the black scratch marks left in a trail of streaks from the entrance—and was crowded to the brim with medicines and utensils, some of which were stained with blood. A young woman was running back and forth between the patients hurriedly, a long white doctor's coat flapping around her ankles, tending to the sick and injured.
"Zita, if that's you I'm afraid I have a lot on my plate right now..." Her voice was tinged with a lisp that made Dib quirk his brow in interest. From the sound of her voice, she couldn't have been any older that he was—supposed to be—and yet was managing patients? Though it wasn't as though he had any right to complain as the boy had tended to his own wounds many times before, so speaking up would be a might bit hypocritical. Besides, the girl seemed to be handling herself with the tools well enough, and with her hair was just a few shades lighter than Gaz's and pulled into several ponytails, she looked like...
Dib frowned and shook his head slightly. No way, she couldn't be who he thought he was, right?
However the movement caused the young doctor to turn her head around and caught his eye, causing her to suddenly gasp in surprise and instantly dropped the stethoscope she held to the floor with a clatter. "Y-you can't be..." Her eyes rounded and she shot Zita a sidelong glance, the other of whom just nodded wordlessly to confirm her suspicions without actually explaining anything. "Dib...? Is that you?" Unbelievable, it was her. Just how many of his old classmates had become a part of this resistance group along with his sister anyway?
"Oh, hey...Gretchen...it's been a while," Dib managed to let out a weak laugh nervously, trying to relieve the tension and behind him Zita rolled her eyes dramatically, conveniently forgetting her own rather shocked reaction to his appearance not ten minutes before. But it was definitely Gretchen, as the girl hadn't really changed much. She was wearing a dual-colored dull brown and violet dress mostly covered by her white doctor's coat, and had apparently switched out her prescription braces as the years had passed for a smaller pair that added a bit more clarity to her words. The girl's hair had probably grown a few inches since then, but not by much, still retaining the same style as she'd possessed before.
Zita only glanced between them with an attitude suggesting she was bored, and shrugged idly before marching for the door. "If we're going to get this reaction over and over again, I might as well spread the news while you're here. Later," and without any further explanation, the teenage girl pushed the entrance open and marched out, leaving Dib as suddenly as she had appeared in the teacher's lounge.
"So anyway... You said earlier you were pretty busy," Just his luck to bother her about a festering injury while she was already tending to people who needed the help more.
"I'm not really...that busy..."
There was a slight pause before in sank in, "So you lied to Zita just now?"
"Well, the patients in here right now are that badly hurt or anything. They really just needed some bandages and a bit of bed rest," Gretchen picked up her stethoscope and ran it under some cool water from sink in the corner to clean it off, her hands still trembling ever so slightly. She seemed to stop herself every time she was about to meet his eyes and hesitated a moment or two before continuing much quieter, "And I don't like her very much..."
Dib couldn't restrain a chuckle, barely stopping himself from saying something along the lines of, "Yeah, I don't like her either. In fact, I find that she's really annoying." Besides, he really should be getting to the actual reason why he came here in the first place. Old classmate or not, he might be on a timer to getting infected and catching up with people he'd hardly known much even before could clearly wait. "So, if you're not too busy to see me, would you mind helping with this?" Dib held up his crudely bandaged wrist, for once realizing just how dirty the cloth actually was now that his sight had been restored. In all honesty, if she had just provided the bandages and antiseptic, the boy could handle changing the wrap by himself if need be, but he did want to see how effective Gretchen was as a doctor at close quarters.
He was...a bit surprised at the results. The teenage girl might have been shivering slightly, but she was still quite skilled at how much antiseptic to apply and make up for in ability what she clearly lacked in confidence. Dib's eyes narrowed in concentration as he studied her dressing of his wound from a rather analytical perspective, rather than just being plain thankful for the help like any ordinary perspective. When Gretchen had finished, the boy turn his hand in the air, only wincing marginally as the bandages didn't impede movement in any way and the medicine had mostly numbed the pain to the point where he didn't feel the inclination to react much. He was so used to getting injured—whether during a clash with Zim, or against some other supernatural he was busy hunting down—that the whole "oh my god, there's a gaping hole in my skin" situation wasn't something that got him very alarmed.
"Not bad," Dib murmured, just loud enough loud for the girl to hear, which put a sudden end to her nearly constant nervous fidgeting. Gretchen was just able to mumble a thanks under her breath before the black-garbed boy turned his attentions elsewhere, trying to satisfy both his inherent curiosity and understand the situation a little better. "So, now that I've both Zita and you here, just how many other members of our class made it into this resistance group anyways?"
"Huh?" Gretchen stumbled for a moment, watching as Dib cautiously sat down on one of the free beds around the room, resting his injured hand on his lap to take the weight and stress off of it. She pulled up a chair nearby and clasped her hands together as she started to speak, "Well, most of our class is here, but there are a lot more adults than anything else. Oh yeah, and some of the kids from other classes too, like Torque. No one here is younger than sixteen and we all joined up here because the school was the biggest building around town that we all knew well." Gretchen took a deep breath, glancing around at the other beds just to make sure that none of the other resting patients had woken up before continuing, "At first it was just Gaz. At least, that's what I heard. She was so good at surviving that others started following her, although her and Zita are pretty much equals now..."
"Wait, you mean Gaz and Zita are both the leaders here?"
"Y-yeah... I mean, the leadership is pretty much split. Gaz knows all about combat, and I guess Zita knows, er...self-preservation. They clash about...pretty much everything. What moves to make next, who to let into the group here, and whether to bring you back..." Gretchen abruptly went silent then, her eyes wandering over to Dib and then to the wall just as quickly, as though she were ashamed to have brought up the subject in the first place.
Dib was quiet for moment, picking at the corner of his collar when the silence became particularly uncomfortable. "Why did Zita object to me coming back, anyway?" Who else would it be but Zita, his old bully, who wouldn't want to go out of her way to save him?
"...She said that it would be more trouble than it was worth. She said that losing people to help you wasn't worth it..."
"Ouch, that's harsh."
"Yeah..."
A long and uncomfortable quiet stilled the air yet again.
"So who, may I ask, among our band of noble, resistance fighters actually wanted me around?" Dib barely managed to stop the bitterness from showing itself in his voice and the girl seemed to notice.
"W-well... Gaz actually brought the idea up. She said that we needed help and needed someone who had experience dealing with Zim. Well, in her words, it was something along those lines. I didn't mind it, and neither did Melvin, some others...oh and Torque too."
That was surprising, "Wait, Melvin I can understand. He goes along with pretty much anything it seems like..." Well, Dib did drag his rather inert body around the booby-trapped school via inconvenient handcuffs during the whole lice infestation (which he was still slightly ashamed about; hypocrisy is not a fun feeling to remember), and the boy didn't try—or was able to—complain about it. But Torque? Maybe he suggested to him to hit Zim with something once or twice but c'mon! Sure, maybe he wasn't getting pummeled by the guy a lot or anything but he never really seemed to care about anything either. "But, why Torque?"
Gretchen paused, then just shrugged nonchalantly, "Well, he said that if there was anyone who could find out how to beat Zim, it would be you."
Well that was quite a vote of confidence from someone he hardly even knew. Or maybe those ten minutes or so of panicked rambling so long ago actually made an impression or something.
Though that did give the boy some interesting ideas. Namely, a few clues on how to go about bringing this group around and start doing some actual damage. "I'm going to need to speak to everyone soon, though..." Dib said, more to himself than to her.
"About what?"
"About how to get our hands on some weaponry that Zim's not going to like."
(A/N): That seems like a good place to cut it off, right? I honestly don't know why Torque is painted as such a bully, he doesn't do anything to Dib, seriously. He shoves Zim once though, but other than that...