HOME | DD

Description
"Rise and shine, sleepy head!" a mechanical voice said, the tone more sarcastic than welcoming.

Zim growled, his closed eyes opening only to slits, glaring at the ceiling. "You of all things should know I do not sleep."

The Irken stretched his arms over his head, moaning a little as his spine popped and the chords attached to his PAK fell away, finished charging.

The night had been a long one indeed; Gir, running around every five minutes, screaming about something Zim didn't, nor would he ever, care about. His PAK had to be fixed so that it could charge properly. Every few hours, the door bell would ring, a disgusting human-filthy on the other side, wanting moneys for some unwanted quackery-of-a-product that was way over priced: which, of course, Gir had to have.

"Somebody got up on the wrong side of the PAK panel," the house brain muttered.

Zim didn't even dignify that with a response; considering he had to deal with both he AND Gir every day, he figured he build up enough rage to quiet them both by the time school was out.

This was the alien's daily routine, and had been such for a little over a year. Zim sighed, rubbing the sides of his head.

'Why me? Of the entire Irken race, why is my luck always the worst? A defective, mouthy house brain and a broken SIR unit who probably doesn't even know its job are what I, the AMAZING ZIM, am stuck with. No wonder this filthy planet has not yet met its doom; I have no help!'

"Computer," ZIm commanded, marching into the nearest elevator he could find. "Take me to the main house. I have to get ready to start this HIDEOUS new day at that DISGUSTING humanoid learning-unit."

"Alright, but you should probably skip getting ready," Computer said, clearly bored. "You're going to be late."

Zim glared at the ceiling as the elevator rose. "Do not play games with me!" he shouted, his aggravation giving away to anger. "Give Zim the time!"

"It is seven thirty-seven," the computer stated in a flat tone. "Late."

Zim cursed as the elevator brought him to the Earth-broadcasting room. He was indeed late, and that would no doubt cause suspicions amongst the human-stink at his school.
As soon as the elevator stopped, the invader bolted for the door. He had eight minutes before school would start. Eight minutes he had to get his disguise on, get out his door, and pass the Dib's house without the filthy larvae trying to get a snapshot of him or
trying to take away his disguise.

Sitting on the windowsill was Zim's disguise; a black wig that looked like it had once been the hair attached to Elvis Presley's head, and two identical, stormy-sky blue contacts. To any other human being on the planet, Zim would have fit right in. No one at his school had noticed his lack of ears and a nose, nor did they take into account his green skin. Well, with the exception of Dib, Zim's arch nemesis.

As Zim slipped on his disguise, the Irken recalled that first day at their school. Zim had waltz in, his disguise seemingly perfect, people looking bored as he introduced himself as a normal human. All except Dib. That vile, bothersome Dib. He'd seen through everything, going as far to point out the fact he had no ears. Thank the Lord he was able to think on his feet, and say it was part of a skin condition.

'Don't dwell on the past now,' Zim thought, flinging open his door. The warm spring air greeted him. The alien didn't dwell on that either.

Legs pumping, Zim sprinted to school, leaving the house behind.

'Going to be late, going to be so late, humans going to suspect something, damn, damn, damn,' Zim's mind screamed. He skidded to a stop for a second, nearly falling. He had turned on to the Dib-stink's street. He only had a second to contemplate being cautious as usual, or run through it and risk being noticed by the fiend.

Zim chose the second, telling himself Dib was at that filthy school already.

And he was, for as Zim passed his house, he had seen neither hair nor hide of the child.

Zim slowed for a second, gazing at the Membrane housing-unit. There were no ambushes stationed around the perimeter, or anyone in the bushes planted by the window. It was rather peaceful actually. The little orbs that decorated the front lawn hummed as they produced a blue-hued electric fence. The grass was neatly trimmed, and a healthy bright green. Zims antennae twitched trying to pick up any sound, but he forced them back against his head.

A sharp, loud, buzzing noise cut through the peace. Zim's head turned sharply left. That was the five minuet bell. Forgetting about the momentary peace he had found, Zim sprinted off.

How long had he stood still? It felt like a short amount of time to Zim, but Earth time was shorter than he was used to. It could have been an hour. Zim panicked at that thought. Was really that late? The humans would surely think queer of the situation, and the Dib wouldn't hesitate to make an attempt to expose him.

He had been getting closer and closer to that goal. Even the other day, Zim had narrowly dodged Dib's latest attempt; a water hose and sprinklers. The Irken was still recovering from the acidic burns the water gave him. In the process though, as Zim writhed in pain, the human had managed to pull off one of his contacts and force off his soaked black wig.
If his PAK legs hadn't worked when they did, Zim would be screaming on an autopsy table, lungs burning with panic, rather than running to school, lungs aching and mind screaming in panic.

His boot-clad feet bounded up the stairs two at a time. 'Should have monitored my breathing,' Zim thought. He burst through the doors into the nearly clear hallways, and kept running. The bell would ring in five…four…three…two…

Zim literally slid into his homeroom as the final morning ball rang. He had made it on time.

"VICTORY!" Zim screeched, throwing his arms up in a proud manor. The lot of the class stared at him, confused, but that was usually the normal reaction of the regular humanoids.

"Sit down now, Zim!" the creaking voice of Ms. Bitters all but growled. Zim's eyes flicked over to his teacher. Her beady eyes glared out from behind her foggy glasses, which sat upon her wrinkly nose and face. As usual, her freaky, witch-grey locks were put up in a bun and her snake like body was covered neck to toe with thick black dress, similar to a trench coat.

She let out a reptilian hiss when Zim didn't immediately respond to her command. The Irken saluted, standing up, and made his way over to his assigned chair.

And so the class began. Zim tuned Ms. Bitters out almost immediately, trying to blank his mind. A certain nagging feeling was beginning to grow there, and the alien didn't like it one bit. It felt as if something were missing. A crucial part of the day had been skipped, and it was now tugging at the corners of his mind. He charged his PAK; he hadn't forgotten that. He had a pencil, currently occupying the puckered space between his lips and where a human nose would be. He didn't eat human food, so there wasn't anything else for him to bring. Quietly and slowly, Zim moved each limb, thinking maybe that was what he was missing. He found that he still had each limb, as well as every phalange.
Zim glowered at his desk, not liking this feeling one bit. He brought his glare around the class room, carefully taking in each student. It's when he looked to the farthest part of the room that he realized what had been missing. In the first row, counting four seats away from Zim's was Dib.

Every morning since Zim had landed of Earth, Dib had made a point of yelling at the class and trying to prove that he was, in fact, not of their planet. He would dart his yellowish eyes around the class and adjust his glasses, waving his trench coat covered arms around in an almost comical matter. He would gesture to Zim, and point out his skin color, or his lack of "ears". He would stand and yell and point until Bitters told him class was starting. Then he would calm down, glare at Zim, and walk back to his desk. On occasion, someone's foot would shoot out and cause Dib to trip.

Except this particular morning; he was staring out the window this morning, a blissful expression plastered on his face. It was almost hopeful.

Zim immediately felt hatred toward it. The Dib-thing, hopeful? What nerve! What gave that human, his enemy, the audacity to smile in such a way? Zim's glare was aimed at the other's rather large cranium, anger bubbling inside him.

'He's trying to fool me!,' the alien thought. 'Trying to lull me into a false sense of security! That fool! Pitiful human scum! How dare he wear that mocking smile! I will show him. I am ZIM!

The Irken mussed over many things he could do to the inferior being on the other side of the room. His anger was slowly simmering away to nothing, and it was causing Zim to panic. Under his unjustified anger was fear. Dib was a paranoid human child, and over time, his habits of watching Zim, tapping his pencil, or hastily recording notes were habits that were easily recorded. When one of his annoying everyday quirks went absent, Zim never took notice. Now though, Dib had not even half-heartedly attempted a single one of those routines.

What did that mean? That Dib had given up? That he somehow was going to win this year-long war? Though Zim preferred the former, he highly doubted that was the motivation behind wearing a hopeful smile in place of nervous habits.

But what could have Dib in such a mood that he felt secure enough to relax? Whatever it was, it wasn't something Zim could allow to go on for much longer. Whatever supposedly "foolproof plan" this boy was hatching, Zim would need to put an end to. That day. Maybe that hour. Perhaps even that minute. 'I could end him in just a few seconds, even, if—'

"ZIM!" the raspy voice of his teacher snapped, interrupting his superior plans. She glared at him, making that terrible hissing noise.

Zim raised an invisible eye brow at her. "Hm?"

"Answer the question!" Bitters shouted at the green child. Zim's eyes quickly slid over to Dib; well, he was looking now. His golden eyes gazed at Zim darkly, and had a sudden alertness in them. 'So, the Dib-thing is back to normal. That is much better!'

"Child, you are to be sent to the underground classroom!" Ms. Bitter threatened, her being now hovering over Zim's desk. "I will ask you again, you horrible thing. When a united egg and sperm are developing at the nine week stage, the hideous thing inside is called a what?"

Zim gulped. He hadn't really been paying too much attention to the "Hyooman Reproduction Unit" in the health portion of the day's lessons. He hadn't found it necessary for one; once he was though with the planet, the stinking inhabitants would all be gone. There would be no need for knowledge of the subject. The other reason was much more...personal. The insides of a human were disgusting to ZIm, and his class filled with health like things…nauseated him. He shook his head to clear away images the lectures gave him.
So the reproduction of a human, well, frankly made Zim ill, as well as a bit…nervous. This class was something he had been trying to avoid. Irkens did not reproduce; they didn't really have the reproductive cells to do it with. All smeets were made in a tank and left to develop over time. The alien had no idea about "sexual" reproduction, or "live birth". The whole idea was foreign to him, and it made his Irken identity easy to distinguish.

Again, Zim's eyes shot over to Dib, who was now staring at him with a knowing look and a dark smile. That was familiar territory Dib was treading on. Zim looked away fast, and thought.

'Spawn is birth, birth is a worm-baby, and a worm- baby is a…' "Fetus?" Zim said, his voice making the answer a question.

Ms. Bitters hissed at Zim again but slithered back to her desk. "Correct, Zim," she growled, looking over the class. "The school board forbids the lesson be taught with a real fetus, so, as many horrible beings have done in the past, you will all have a chicken fetus to take care of."

Zim banged his head on his desk. Chicken fetus? Zim could barely tolerate whatever pictures he cared to look at during lessons about human fetuses. Now he has to care for some earthling animal thing? The very idea of that sickening, slimly display cause Zim to visibly retch, his spooch turning over. The urge to run out of the room was over powering.

Something made a small clicking noise as it touched his desk. Zim's antennae twitched under the uncomfortable fibers of his wig. Slowly he peered up. A small, white, round object sat on his desk, not moving. The egg's appearance confused Zim; this was a chicken fetus? He had been on earth for over a year. He had seen many complicated things in history books, and hyooman broadcasting advertisements, but this simple thing…was a fetus?

The Irken looked around the classroom, surveying the other students. Only half of the class received eggs. Zim's eyes, once again, unwillingly met Dib's. The boy was now glaring at him; it was a familiar glare, and Zim smiled darkly at him and shrugged. This routine was his way of telling Dib to "F off," as the humans said.

"Now that half of you have received your eggs, you will be placed with your doomed partners," Ms. Bitters said, a worn, black top had emerging out of her desk. She drew a name.

"Zeeta," Bitters announced, "You will be placed with Poonchy." Before Zeeta could protest, the teacher continued. "Torc Smacky, you are placed with Willy." The class bully groaned, looking over at the dirt cover child sitting in the last row.

This continued, each time receiving groans filled with loathing for the teacher. Zim smiled inwardly as he looked at the clock. He would not be receiving a partner; the class had an odd number, and he wouldn't be called. That was how it had been for the year and three months he'd been stuck on this god forsaken planet.

"Zim," Ms. Bitters growled. Zim sat up straight, ready to receive orders from his horrid superior. "Zim, you will be placed with…" she trailed off and plucked out a name from the hat. This motion filled Zim with panic and dread. Placed with? He shouldn't be place with anyone!

"Dib," she read aloud.

Zim's eyes filled with hate. "What?!" he yelled his voice seeming to have echoed. He had both palms flat on his desk and his feet planted firmly on the floor, his fury rising by the second. He glanced over at the Dib human, his…partner. The boy had taken up a similar position, only his expression was one filled with dismay.

"Quiet!" their teacher screeched, glaring at each of them. It was filled equally with enough malice to put them back into their assigned seats.

Bitters finished the partner assigning just as the eleven-o-clock lunch bell rang. Zim glared at each passing student, wishing every one of them into the deepest parts of a fiery dimension. His hate filled, contact covered eyes finally darted over to Dib's chair.
He was taking his time; having brought a sacked lunch, he took care with bringing it out of a black messenger bag and then hanging the bag in its rightful place, on the back of his chair. Zim must have made some small noise of disgust, because Dib's head snapped up. His eyes met Zim's and a slow, smirk spread across Dib's mouth. He grabbed his lunch and sauntered over to Zims desk.

"Hey there, spaceboy," he taunted, placing his right hand palm down on Zim's desk. He looked down at it in revulsion, and then brought his gaze back up to Dib's. This confident air that had once terrified Zim now was the wood that fueled his angry flames.
Dib's smirk grew more pronounced. He spoke again. "I wanted to convey a little secret to you, lizard. You see, last night I happened upon an intriguing floppy disk. On it was something very…oh, I don't know, different."

Now, Zim felt nervous. "What are you going on about, human stink? Leave my amazing side at once!"

Dib rolled his eyes. "You see, that's the thing here. You're so confident, thinking you're superior. But not now. With what I've found, your size has shrunk to nothing more than a mosquito. You were hard to get at first, but now, thanks to that disk, you're as good as dead; a corpse lying on an autopsy table."

By now, Dib was leaning over the desk, and his eyes were filled with a confident hate. Zim's own fake grey eyes were filled with raw fear, to which he could not hide. Dib's lips parted, and the words he spoke made him freeze.

"I won, Invader Zim."

With that, the boy pushed away from the Irken's desk and departed from the room.
Slowly, Zim let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He won? In what way did he win? Had he found something out, actual proof that Zim was an alien? The alien's nerves sent his hands shaking. He gripped the desk.

This had to be dealt with. 'The Dib-thing must perish,' Zim thought, his eyes darkening.

XxXxXx

The final bell of the day had rung. Kids were pouring out of the front door, eager to get home. Zim was not among them. He had taken to a small, dead-end alleyway, watching the children pass it by. The Dib-thing's sister, Gaz, had passed by as well. She had been the only one to notice him, indicating that with a glare and slight shake of the head.

Seconds turned into minutes, and still there was no sign of that wretched human Dib. Perhaps he had taken the bus, sensing the impending danger if he had walked home. If that was the case, Zim would march over to his housing unit and end him there.

He had considered once or twice that Dib had been bluffing, and whatever disk he was babbling about had just been a hoax. But no liar, no matter how professional, could look his enemy dead in the eyes and speak of his end that way. Right? He had to be telling the truth, and every time he'd reason that out, he shuddered.

It had been a very long time now since Zim had stationed himself in his hiding spot. The busses had all driven away and the flood of walking students had thinned to a trickle, and then none at all. With the exception of the occasional passing car, everything was clam. Silent. It almost reminded Zim off the moment in front of the Membrane residence, when he had also found momentary peace.

The green child sighed, frustrated. This was not going as planned; he was supposed to hauling a deceased body into this alley by now!

Shaking his head, Zim turned around, looking at the dingy wall behind him. It was shady, and a very good hiding place if you were planning on an ambush.

"Which is why I chose this place to hide out," Zim whispered to himself, turning around to face the alley's exit.

Two more minutes passed before Zim's antennae twitched, picking up a slight rustling from behind him. Zim froze.

No, he thought, panicked. Before he could turn to defend himself, a heavy weight tackled him from the back.

Zim toppled over onto his stomach, his green cheek scraping the sharp concrete. Crying out and kicking, he tried to turn over and face his attacker. He knew who it was and he cursed himself for being so naïve; of course Dib expected an ambush. After their episode in the classroom before leaving for lunch, how could he not?

Something round and moist dug into the back of Zim's head. "Afternoon," Dib said, nonchalantly. The object dug deeper into the invader's green skin. Of course, he knew what this was too, and it only made him struggle harder; a water gun. His arms were pinned down by Dib's boney knees, each one digging painfully into his wrist.

Dib sat there on top of the Irken, savoring his struggles. At first, Zim's struggle was based solely on frustration, anger and self-loathing. He hated feeling so helpless, especially since Dib's weight made it impossible to access his PAK to call in GIR for help. He hated himself for being so stupid, and, once again, not considering all outcomes.

And then, Zim felt the panic. His heart began pounding harder with each attempt to yank his writs free from their painful entrapment. His body felt cold and numb with tension, as fear slowly clawed its way up his spine. Mind racing, booted feet kicking uselessly. Futile struggles. Zim closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the idea of escape; but, alas, he thought of nothing. Rolling side to side didn't do much for means of escape
either.

The invader had never been so frightened in his entire long life. Not on Foodcourtia, not in the academy, not even during an invasion.

The only thing Zim could do was give in. Submit to the human. Something he swore he would never do. But he had to. Taking a shaky deep breath and forcing his struggles to cease, Zim slowly relaxed against the concrete.

"What do you want, stink beast?" he said miserably, feeling humiliated. For the moment, that kept his gnawing fear at bay.

Instead of answering, Dib pulled the trigger of the squirt gun that was pressed against his head.

That was another thing Zim had forgotten that day; to bathe in paste. It worked as a water shield, and was his main defense against Dib in the spring and summer time. Having woken up late, he had completely forgotten about the acid-like liquid attacks.

Zim tried to squirm away, whimpering at the pain. He would not show the agony he was feeling to his enemy. He had enough of an upper hand already.

As if reading the poor Irken's mind, Dib pulled back the water gun, the contents of it now spraying every which way. It splattered all over the back of Zim's head, soaking the back of his shirt as water slipped down his neck.

Zim could take no more. Now that it had slid down his shirt, he let loose an agonized screech, his back arching. The pain was unimaginable; like hot coals under the skin. A burning so intense that you could feel your skin melting, every fiber of your being combusting and turning to ash. It was the feeling of hot iron through ones gut; pure hell.
The water was insistent on the back of Zim's head, and so was the burning. Zim's right hand clawed at the ground in front of him, desperate to break free. Though the ache of the fire had clouded his thoughts, Zim's stared openly at his hand, shocked. What luck; he now had means of escape.

Wasting no time, Zim turned as far as he could around, with one arm still trapped. His eyes met Dib's for only a second. His signature smirk of full-throttle confidence shattered the one plastered on Dib's disgusting features. He thrust his elbow back, nailing Dib's wrist. The human cried out in pain, dropping the water gun in the process. Though the sound was satisfying, Zim wasn't quite done. His three fingers clenched into fists, and snapped forward, hitting Dib square in the jaw.

The nice unhealthy thwack noise it made was pure ecstasy to the alien's antennae.
Dib rolled off of Zim, moaning and holding his injured face. The Irken hopped up, fury and pain clouding his mind. He grabbed the suffering boy by the shirt and trench coat, hauling him to his feet.

Spinning the boy around, he grasped the others throat. Dib's eye's bulged. "Such informalities I've used. Afternoon, you pathetic worm," Zim sneered. He brought his head down onto Dib's, the head- butt causing the boy to cry out once more.

Zim tossed the boy to the ground, watching as the urchin's glasses skidded away from them both. Bringing is foot back; he aimed for Dib's ribs. The boy was on his hands and knees, blood from his lip combining with saliva as he spat.

Before Zim could deliver the blow, however, Dib sprang up and launched himself at Zim, shoulder first. The impact took his breath away for a moment. He hit the wall, and tried to balance himself. His eyes were downcast at the cool concrete, and he watched Dib's feet move into what could sloppily pass for a fighting stance.

"Not today, Dib!" Zim shouted, ducking as Dib's fist hit the wall of the alley.
Dib howled in pain at his newly bruised, maybe sprained, knuckles. Zim didn't care; he brought his leg under both of Dib's feet, bringing the boy down. He kicked once, stopping only for a second to smile at Dib's suffering. He kicked again, this time not stopping to relish at the sounds of pain which slowly dwindled to whimpers.

Zim brought the human up again, by the front of his shirt this time. Being as the Irken race was a bit stronger than humans, he could easily lift the boy above himself. He momentarily let go, instead grasping his skinny white neck.

Dib gasped and clawed at the Irkens gloves. "Don't bother," Zim said, his tone dark. "Even if I don't choke the life of you, you will die, hyooman." At this the boy whimpered. Zim threw him against the back most wall of the alley. His PAK legs, spider like and deadly, came out, and he sauntered toward the boy. On the ground, Zim could see
Dib finding his glasses, and reaching for something farther.

Before he could reclaim the water gun, Zim stepped on Dib's bare hand with his booted foot. He shook his head. "Don't even think about it, Dib," He growled, kicking the boys head away from it. Dib moaned, his eyes now filled with pleading.

Zim smiled. "I will put an end to this now, Dib. One year and three months; that is enough. I will put an end to this rivalry, to your futile attempts to stop me. I will put an end to you."

His lower left PAK leg shot forward to scratch Dib's cheek, and Zim growled as he winced. He stabbed both bottom legs into the top of either side of Dib's coat, dragging him upward. The other PAK leg tilted Dib's chin up. "I want to see your miserable life leave your eyes," he explained.

The Irken aimed.

Dib coughed, though he didn't struggle. "Wait," he whispered.

Zim paused, an invisible eyebrow arching. Dib spoke again. "Please," he begged. "Please, Zim. Make it painless. I—I...can't take much more of this. Please, just do me this, Zim. Kill me painlessly."

Zim ignored it for the moment. He let his PAK leg fly forward, aiming for his head. And then, he stopped.

He stared at Dib, whose eyes were closed, cringing at the pain that was to be. Or was it?
Since he had met the worm, he had visualized his extermination. Tasting victory at Dib's defeat; that was one of his missions. So why was he hesitant toward this? It was what he wanted. He wanted to go back to his race, and to destroy Earth. Without Dib in the picture, it seemed like it would happen.

But now, to Zim, it somehow seemed incredibly empty. The Dib thing was an obstacle, an annoying little thorn in his side. Something he was eager to rid himself of, like a week of exams. He couldn't wait to yank the thorn out of his side and vaporize it. Make sure the dust of the puny enemy would blow away in the wind, forgotten.

Now, looking at the frightened features of this boy, this human who had given up so easily, he couldn't do it. Something in the back of his mind was shouting at him, telling him to let the boy run. Let him run, so that he may continue.

But that was absurd, of course; the Irken would only keep fighting with the human, and the wars between them would only become more elaborate and frequent.

Zim's eyes widened with the sudden realization.

Dib was, and probably would always be a thorn in the side. But this thorn had been sticking him for so long it had dulled to an ache, that ache dulling to a throb, and the throbbing to nothing at all. It was now natural part of him.

Zim had forced himself to believe in a rivalry that truly was no longer there. He could not kill this human, because if he did, his mission would collapse upon him. 'If I end the Dib-stinks life, what would be the fun in taking over this HORRIBLE planet?' he thought. If he was the bad guy, someone had to be the hero.

Zim retracted his PAK legs, and Dib dropped to the ground with a stunned, dog-unit-like squeak. Zim almost smirked.

"HYOOMAN!" he yelled dramatically, making Dib look up angrily. "It seems I have come to a stunning conclusion with my AMAZING brain!"

Dib glared at the alien, and the confident bravado covering Zim's recent realization faltered. The top panel to Zim's PAK opened, and he reached inside, watching Dib flinch.

"Here," Zim said, tossing the small egg to the boy. "A truce."

Dib's head shot up, immediately, and, though injured, he was on his feet in an instant. "What do you take me for? An idiot?" he yelled, clearly frustrated.

Zim shrugged. "I know not of you intellect, inferior worm child. All I know is that I propose—"

Dib crossed his arms and interrupted. "Because I'd really fall for that, you lizard!
Listen to yourself!"

Zim rolled his fake grey eyes. "I am. Clearly, you are not, Dib." Zim realized, with much shock and a bit of disgust, that that was the first time he had addressed him by his first name without malice.

Dib, it seemed, did too, and his eyebrows rose. "Are you serious? And I mean really serious here," he said incredulously, voice soft. He stared down at the egg in his palm.

Zim puffed out a long breath of exasperated air. "For the last time, human, yes! I see no point in destroying someone who is part of the reason I persist with my initial mission."

"So you'll stop trying to take over Earth, then?" Dib asked, hopeful.

Zim glared at Dib; the human was not making it easy to hold in his frustration with human intellect. "Of course not!" he shouted. "I am an Invader! And as such, I will take this
planet for the Mighty Irken Race!"

Dib shouted right back. "Then what the hell was the point of a 'truce'? If it's going to be the same, why bother?"

"Because," Zim shrugged. "I don't want to kill you." He met the boy's eyes for a second. "I spared you didn't I? I do not know about you, but I enjoy our fights and enmity. It's very easy to continue based on that. I believe that if I try to take over your dirt-planet, you have a right to stop me on all accounts." He paused. "But," he stated, his voice now softer and forced, feeling humiliated for the second time that day, "when I am not destroying, and you are not…er, being all parachutey—"

"Paranormal," Dib corrected.

"Whatever. When you aren't being paranormal," he said mocking the word. Dib smirked. "I propose that we be…friends."

Dib's mouth popped open. "Friends?" he asked, disbelieving.

Zim groaned internally. He somehow knew this would not be on Dib's To-Do list that day; befriend an alien invader. He almost laughed at himself. "It's a stupid idea, yes, but it is the only—"

Dib held a hand up, and Zim winced sympathetically at the bruised fingers. "Friendship is…a strong word, but I think I get it. It's a form of alliance that suits two adversaries." Dib seemed satisfied with this and nodded once to himself.

"Alright, Zim," he said, his voice turning business-like. "I accept this truce. I guess our, er, fetus here," he gestured to the egg, "will be our proof of it." He stuck out a hand.

Zim stepped back, confused. It looked like a gesture humans normally did, but Zim had never took in much more than that.

Dib rolled his gold eyes. "You shake it, moron," he said flatly. Zim did.

Both of them walked out of the alley, Dib limping, and Zim rolling his eyes, playfully annoyed at the inferior being.

They had both found something that spring evening, though both were too proud to admit it to the other. They had found a true first friend, and both of them were just fine with that.

Description
"Rise and shine, sleepy head!" a mechanical voice said, the tone more sarcastic than welcoming.

Zim growled, his closed eyes opening only to slits, glaring at the ceiling. "You of all things should know I do not sleep."

The Irken stretched his arms over his head, moaning a little as his spine popped and the chords attached to his PAK fell away, finished charging.

The night had been a long one indeed; Gir, running around every five minutes, screaming about something Zim didn't, nor would he ever, care about. His PAK had to be fixed so that it could charge properly. Every few hours, the door bell would ring, a disgusting human-filthy on the other side, wanting moneys for some unwanted quackery-of-a-product that was way over priced: which, of course, Gir had to have.

"Somebody got up on the wrong side of the PAK panel," the house brain muttered.

Zim didn't even dignify that with a response; considering he had to deal with both he AND Gir every day, he figured he build up enough rage to quiet them both by the time school was out.

This was the alien's daily routine, and had been such for a little over a year. Zim sighed, rubbing the sides of his head.

'Why me? Of the entire Irken race, why is my luck always the worst? A defective, mouthy house brain and a broken SIR unit who probably doesn't even know its job are what I, the AMAZING ZIM, am stuck with. No wonder this filthy planet has not yet met its doom; I have no help!'

"Computer," ZIm commanded, marching into the nearest elevator he could find. "Take me to the main house. I have to get ready to start this HIDEOUS new day at that DISGUSTING humanoid learning-unit."

"Alright, but you should probably skip getting ready," Computer said, clearly bored. "You're going to be late."

Zim glared at the ceiling as the elevator rose. "Do not play games with me!" he shouted, his aggravation giving away to anger. "Give Zim the time!"

"It is seven thirty-seven," the computer stated in a flat tone. "Late."

Zim cursed as the elevator brought him to the Earth-broadcasting room. He was indeed late, and that would no doubt cause suspicions amongst the human-stink at his school.
As soon as the elevator stopped, the invader bolted for the door. He had eight minutes before school would start. Eight minutes he had to get his disguise on, get out his door, and pass the Dib's house without the filthy larvae trying to get a snapshot of him or
trying to take away his disguise.

Sitting on the windowsill was Zim's disguise; a black wig that looked like it had once been the hair attached to Elvis Presley's head, and two identical, stormy-sky blue contacts. To any other human being on the planet, Zim would have fit right in. No one at his school had noticed his lack of ears and a nose, nor did they take into account his green skin. Well, with the exception of Dib, Zim's arch nemesis.

As Zim slipped on his disguise, the Irken recalled that first day at their school. Zim had waltz in, his disguise seemingly perfect, people looking bored as he introduced himself as a normal human. All except Dib. That vile, bothersome Dib. He'd seen through everything, going as far to point out the fact he had no ears. Thank the Lord he was able to think on his feet, and say it was part of a skin condition.

'Don't dwell on the past now,' Zim thought, flinging open his door. The warm spring air greeted him. The alien didn't dwell on that either.

Legs pumping, Zim sprinted to school, leaving the house behind.

'Going to be late, going to be so late, humans going to suspect something, damn, damn, damn,' Zim's mind screamed. He skidded to a stop for a second, nearly falling. He had turned on to the Dib-stink's street. He only had a second to contemplate being cautious as usual, or run through it and risk being noticed by the fiend.

Zim chose the second, telling himself Dib was at that filthy school already.

And he was, for as Zim passed his house, he had seen neither hair nor hide of the child.

Zim slowed for a second, gazing at the Membrane housing-unit. There were no ambushes stationed around the perimeter, or anyone in the bushes planted by the window. It was rather peaceful actually. The little orbs that decorated the front lawn hummed as they produced a blue-hued electric fence. The grass was neatly trimmed, and a healthy bright green. Zims antennae twitched trying to pick up any sound, but he forced them back against his head.

A sharp, loud, buzzing noise cut through the peace. Zim's head turned sharply left. That was the five minuet bell. Forgetting about the momentary peace he had found, Zim sprinted off.

How long had he stood still? It felt like a short amount of time to Zim, but Earth time was shorter than he was used to. It could have been an hour. Zim panicked at that thought. Was really that late? The humans would surely think queer of the situation, and the Dib wouldn't hesitate to make an attempt to expose him.

He had been getting closer and closer to that goal. Even the other day, Zim had narrowly dodged Dib's latest attempt; a water hose and sprinklers. The Irken was still recovering from the acidic burns the water gave him. In the process though, as Zim writhed in pain, the human had managed to pull off one of his contacts and force off his soaked black wig.
If his PAK legs hadn't worked when they did, Zim would be screaming on an autopsy table, lungs burning with panic, rather than running to school, lungs aching and mind screaming in panic.

His boot-clad feet bounded up the stairs two at a time. 'Should have monitored my breathing,' Zim thought. He burst through the doors into the nearly clear hallways, and kept running. The bell would ring in five…four…three…two…

Zim literally slid into his homeroom as the final morning ball rang. He had made it on time.

"VICTORY!" Zim screeched, throwing his arms up in a proud manor. The lot of the class stared at him, confused, but that was usually the normal reaction of the regular humanoids.

"Sit down now, Zim!" the creaking voice of Ms. Bitters all but growled. Zim's eyes flicked over to his teacher. Her beady eyes glared out from behind her foggy glasses, which sat upon her wrinkly nose and face. As usual, her freaky, witch-grey locks were put up in a bun and her snake like body was covered neck to toe with thick black dress, similar to a trench coat.

She let out a reptilian hiss when Zim didn't immediately respond to her command. The Irken saluted, standing up, and made his way over to his assigned chair.

And so the class began. Zim tuned Ms. Bitters out almost immediately, trying to blank his mind. A certain nagging feeling was beginning to grow there, and the alien didn't like it one bit. It felt as if something were missing. A crucial part of the day had been skipped, and it was now tugging at the corners of his mind. He charged his PAK; he hadn't forgotten that. He had a pencil, currently occupying the puckered space between his lips and where a human nose would be. He didn't eat human food, so there wasn't anything else for him to bring. Quietly and slowly, Zim moved each limb, thinking maybe that was what he was missing. He found that he still had each limb, as well as every phalange.
Zim glowered at his desk, not liking this feeling one bit. He brought his glare around the class room, carefully taking in each student. It's when he looked to the farthest part of the room that he realized what had been missing. In the first row, counting four seats away from Zim's was Dib.

Every morning since Zim had landed of Earth, Dib had made a point of yelling at the class and trying to prove that he was, in fact, not of their planet. He would dart his yellowish eyes around the class and adjust his glasses, waving his trench coat covered arms around in an almost comical matter. He would gesture to Zim, and point out his skin color, or his lack of "ears". He would stand and yell and point until Bitters told him class was starting. Then he would calm down, glare at Zim, and walk back to his desk. On occasion, someone's foot would shoot out and cause Dib to trip.

Except this particular morning; he was staring out the window this morning, a blissful expression plastered on his face. It was almost hopeful.

Zim immediately felt hatred toward it. The Dib-thing, hopeful? What nerve! What gave that human, his enemy, the audacity to smile in such a way? Zim's glare was aimed at the other's rather large cranium, anger bubbling inside him.

'He's trying to fool me!,' the alien thought. 'Trying to lull me into a false sense of security! That fool! Pitiful human scum! How dare he wear that mocking smile! I will show him. I am ZIM!

The Irken mussed over many things he could do to the inferior being on the other side of the room. His anger was slowly simmering away to nothing, and it was causing Zim to panic. Under his unjustified anger was fear. Dib was a paranoid human child, and over time, his habits of watching Zim, tapping his pencil, or hastily recording notes were habits that were easily recorded. When one of his annoying everyday quirks went absent, Zim never took notice. Now though, Dib had not even half-heartedly attempted a single one of those routines.

What did that mean? That Dib had given up? That he somehow was going to win this year-long war? Though Zim preferred the former, he highly doubted that was the motivation behind wearing a hopeful smile in place of nervous habits.

But what could have Dib in such a mood that he felt secure enough to relax? Whatever it was, it wasn't something Zim could allow to go on for much longer. Whatever supposedly "foolproof plan" this boy was hatching, Zim would need to put an end to. That day. Maybe that hour. Perhaps even that minute. 'I could end him in just a few seconds, even, if—'

"ZIM!" the raspy voice of his teacher snapped, interrupting his superior plans. She glared at him, making that terrible hissing noise.

Zim raised an invisible eye brow at her. "Hm?"

"Answer the question!" Bitters shouted at the green child. Zim's eyes quickly slid over to Dib; well, he was looking now. His golden eyes gazed at Zim darkly, and had a sudden alertness in them. 'So, the Dib-thing is back to normal. That is much better!'

"Child, you are to be sent to the underground classroom!" Ms. Bitter threatened, her being now hovering over Zim's desk. "I will ask you again, you horrible thing. When a united egg and sperm are developing at the nine week stage, the hideous thing inside is called a what?"

Zim gulped. He hadn't really been paying too much attention to the "Hyooman Reproduction Unit" in the health portion of the day's lessons. He hadn't found it necessary for one; once he was though with the planet, the stinking inhabitants would all be gone. There would be no need for knowledge of the subject. The other reason was much more...personal. The insides of a human were disgusting to ZIm, and his class filled with health like things…nauseated him. He shook his head to clear away images the lectures gave him.
So the reproduction of a human, well, frankly made Zim ill, as well as a bit…nervous. This class was something he had been trying to avoid. Irkens did not reproduce; they didn't really have the reproductive cells to do it with. All smeets were made in a tank and left to develop over time. The alien had no idea about "sexual" reproduction, or "live birth". The whole idea was foreign to him, and it made his Irken identity easy to distinguish.

Again, Zim's eyes shot over to Dib, who was now staring at him with a knowing look and a dark smile. That was familiar territory Dib was treading on. Zim looked away fast, and thought.

'Spawn is birth, birth is a worm-baby, and a worm- baby is a…' "Fetus?" Zim said, his voice making the answer a question.

Ms. Bitters hissed at Zim again but slithered back to her desk. "Correct, Zim," she growled, looking over the class. "The school board forbids the lesson be taught with a real fetus, so, as many horrible beings have done in the past, you will all have a chicken fetus to take care of."

Zim banged his head on his desk. Chicken fetus? Zim could barely tolerate whatever pictures he cared to look at during lessons about human fetuses. Now he has to care for some earthling animal thing? The very idea of that sickening, slimly display cause Zim to visibly retch, his spooch turning over. The urge to run out of the room was over powering.

Something made a small clicking noise as it touched his desk. Zim's antennae twitched under the uncomfortable fibers of his wig. Slowly he peered up. A small, white, round object sat on his desk, not moving. The egg's appearance confused Zim; this was a chicken fetus? He had been on earth for over a year. He had seen many complicated things in history books, and hyooman broadcasting advertisements, but this simple thing…was a fetus?

The Irken looked around the classroom, surveying the other students. Only half of the class received eggs. Zim's eyes, once again, unwillingly met Dib's. The boy was now glaring at him; it was a familiar glare, and Zim smiled darkly at him and shrugged. This routine was his way of telling Dib to "F off," as the humans said.

"Now that half of you have received your eggs, you will be placed with your doomed partners," Ms. Bitters said, a worn, black top had emerging out of her desk. She drew a name.

"Zeeta," Bitters announced, "You will be placed with Poonchy." Before Zeeta could protest, the teacher continued. "Torc Smacky, you are placed with Willy." The class bully groaned, looking over at the dirt cover child sitting in the last row.

This continued, each time receiving groans filled with loathing for the teacher. Zim smiled inwardly as he looked at the clock. He would not be receiving a partner; the class had an odd number, and he wouldn't be called. That was how it had been for the year and three months he'd been stuck on this god forsaken planet.

"Zim," Ms. Bitters growled. Zim sat up straight, ready to receive orders from his horrid superior. "Zim, you will be placed with…" she trailed off and plucked out a name from the hat. This motion filled Zim with panic and dread. Placed with? He shouldn't be place with anyone!

"Dib," she read aloud.

Zim's eyes filled with hate. "What?!" he yelled his voice seeming to have echoed. He had both palms flat on his desk and his feet planted firmly on the floor, his fury rising by the second. He glanced over at the Dib human, his…partner. The boy had taken up a similar position, only his expression was one filled with dismay.

"Quiet!" their teacher screeched, glaring at each of them. It was filled equally with enough malice to put them back into their assigned seats.

Bitters finished the partner assigning just as the eleven-o-clock lunch bell rang. Zim glared at each passing student, wishing every one of them into the deepest parts of a fiery dimension. His hate filled, contact covered eyes finally darted over to Dib's chair.
He was taking his time; having brought a sacked lunch, he took care with bringing it out of a black messenger bag and then hanging the bag in its rightful place, on the back of his chair. Zim must have made some small noise of disgust, because Dib's head snapped up. His eyes met Zim's and a slow, smirk spread across Dib's mouth. He grabbed his lunch and sauntered over to Zims desk.

"Hey there, spaceboy," he taunted, placing his right hand palm down on Zim's desk. He looked down at it in revulsion, and then brought his gaze back up to Dib's. This confident air that had once terrified Zim now was the wood that fueled his angry flames.
Dib's smirk grew more pronounced. He spoke again. "I wanted to convey a little secret to you, lizard. You see, last night I happened upon an intriguing floppy disk. On it was something very…oh, I don't know, different."

Now, Zim felt nervous. "What are you going on about, human stink? Leave my amazing side at once!"

Dib rolled his eyes. "You see, that's the thing here. You're so confident, thinking you're superior. But not now. With what I've found, your size has shrunk to nothing more than a mosquito. You were hard to get at first, but now, thanks to that disk, you're as good as dead; a corpse lying on an autopsy table."

By now, Dib was leaning over the desk, and his eyes were filled with a confident hate. Zim's own fake grey eyes were filled with raw fear, to which he could not hide. Dib's lips parted, and the words he spoke made him freeze.

"I won, Invader Zim."

With that, the boy pushed away from the Irken's desk and departed from the room.
Slowly, Zim let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He won? In what way did he win? Had he found something out, actual proof that Zim was an alien? The alien's nerves sent his hands shaking. He gripped the desk.

This had to be dealt with. 'The Dib-thing must perish,' Zim thought, his eyes darkening.

XxXxXx

The final bell of the day had rung. Kids were pouring out of the front door, eager to get home. Zim was not among them. He had taken to a small, dead-end alleyway, watching the children pass it by. The Dib-thing's sister, Gaz, had passed by as well. She had been the only one to notice him, indicating that with a glare and slight shake of the head.

Seconds turned into minutes, and still there was no sign of that wretched human Dib. Perhaps he had taken the bus, sensing the impending danger if he had walked home. If that was the case, Zim would march over to his housing unit and end him there.

He had considered once or twice that Dib had been bluffing, and whatever disk he was babbling about had just been a hoax. But no liar, no matter how professional, could look his enemy dead in the eyes and speak of his end that way. Right? He had to be telling the truth, and every time he'd reason that out, he shuddered.

It had been a very long time now since Zim had stationed himself in his hiding spot. The busses had all driven away and the flood of walking students had thinned to a trickle, and then none at all. With the exception of the occasional passing car, everything was clam. Silent. It almost reminded Zim off the moment in front of the Membrane residence, when he had also found momentary peace.

The green child sighed, frustrated. This was not going as planned; he was supposed to hauling a deceased body into this alley by now!

Shaking his head, Zim turned around, looking at the dingy wall behind him. It was shady, and a very good hiding place if you were planning on an ambush.

"Which is why I chose this place to hide out," Zim whispered to himself, turning around to face the alley's exit.

Two more minutes passed before Zim's antennae twitched, picking up a slight rustling from behind him. Zim froze.

No, he thought, panicked. Before he could turn to defend himself, a heavy weight tackled him from the back.

Zim toppled over onto his stomach, his green cheek scraping the sharp concrete. Crying out and kicking, he tried to turn over and face his attacker. He knew who it was and he cursed himself for being so naïve; of course Dib expected an ambush. After their episode in the classroom before leaving for lunch, how could he not?

Something round and moist dug into the back of Zim's head. "Afternoon," Dib said, nonchalantly. The object dug deeper into the invader's green skin. Of course, he knew what this was too, and it only made him struggle harder; a water gun. His arms were pinned down by Dib's boney knees, each one digging painfully into his wrist.

Dib sat there on top of the Irken, savoring his struggles. At first, Zim's struggle was based solely on frustration, anger and self-loathing. He hated feeling so helpless, especially since Dib's weight made it impossible to access his PAK to call in GIR for help. He hated himself for being so stupid, and, once again, not considering all outcomes.

And then, Zim felt the panic. His heart began pounding harder with each attempt to yank his writs free from their painful entrapment. His body felt cold and numb with tension, as fear slowly clawed its way up his spine. Mind racing, booted feet kicking uselessly. Futile struggles. Zim closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the idea of escape; but, alas, he thought of nothing. Rolling side to side didn't do much for means of escape
either.

The invader had never been so frightened in his entire long life. Not on Foodcourtia, not in the academy, not even during an invasion.

The only thing Zim could do was give in. Submit to the human. Something he swore he would never do. But he had to. Taking a shaky deep breath and forcing his struggles to cease, Zim slowly relaxed against the concrete.

"What do you want, stink beast?" he said miserably, feeling humiliated. For the moment, that kept his gnawing fear at bay.

Instead of answering, Dib pulled the trigger of the squirt gun that was pressed against his head.

That was another thing Zim had forgotten that day; to bathe in paste. It worked as a water shield, and was his main defense against Dib in the spring and summer time. Having woken up late, he had completely forgotten about the acid-like liquid attacks.

Zim tried to squirm away, whimpering at the pain. He would not show the agony he was feeling to his enemy. He had enough of an upper hand already.

As if reading the poor Irken's mind, Dib pulled back the water gun, the contents of it now spraying every which way. It splattered all over the back of Zim's head, soaking the back of his shirt as water slipped down his neck.

Zim could take no more. Now that it had slid down his shirt, he let loose an agonized screech, his back arching. The pain was unimaginable; like hot coals under the skin. A burning so intense that you could feel your skin melting, every fiber of your being combusting and turning to ash. It was the feeling of hot iron through ones gut; pure hell.
The water was insistent on the back of Zim's head, and so was the burning. Zim's right hand clawed at the ground in front of him, desperate to break free. Though the ache of the fire had clouded his thoughts, Zim's stared openly at his hand, shocked. What luck; he now had means of escape.

Wasting no time, Zim turned as far as he could around, with one arm still trapped. His eyes met Dib's for only a second. His signature smirk of full-throttle confidence shattered the one plastered on Dib's disgusting features. He thrust his elbow back, nailing Dib's wrist. The human cried out in pain, dropping the water gun in the process. Though the sound was satisfying, Zim wasn't quite done. His three fingers clenched into fists, and snapped forward, hitting Dib square in the jaw.

The nice unhealthy thwack noise it made was pure ecstasy to the alien's antennae.
Dib rolled off of Zim, moaning and holding his injured face. The Irken hopped up, fury and pain clouding his mind. He grabbed the suffering boy by the shirt and trench coat, hauling him to his feet.

Spinning the boy around, he grasped the others throat. Dib's eye's bulged. "Such informalities I've used. Afternoon, you pathetic worm," Zim sneered. He brought his head down onto Dib's, the head- butt causing the boy to cry out once more.

Zim tossed the boy to the ground, watching as the urchin's glasses skidded away from them both. Bringing is foot back; he aimed for Dib's ribs. The boy was on his hands and knees, blood from his lip combining with saliva as he spat.

Before Zim could deliver the blow, however, Dib sprang up and launched himself at Zim, shoulder first. The impact took his breath away for a moment. He hit the wall, and tried to balance himself. His eyes were downcast at the cool concrete, and he watched Dib's feet move into what could sloppily pass for a fighting stance.

"Not today, Dib!" Zim shouted, ducking as Dib's fist hit the wall of the alley.
Dib howled in pain at his newly bruised, maybe sprained, knuckles. Zim didn't care; he brought his leg under both of Dib's feet, bringing the boy down. He kicked once, stopping only for a second to smile at Dib's suffering. He kicked again, this time not stopping to relish at the sounds of pain which slowly dwindled to whimpers.

Zim brought the human up again, by the front of his shirt this time. Being as the Irken race was a bit stronger than humans, he could easily lift the boy above himself. He momentarily let go, instead grasping his skinny white neck.

Dib gasped and clawed at the Irkens gloves. "Don't bother," Zim said, his tone dark. "Even if I don't choke the life of you, you will die, hyooman." At this the boy whimpered. Zim threw him against the back most wall of the alley. His PAK legs, spider like and deadly, came out, and he sauntered toward the boy. On the ground, Zim could see
Dib finding his glasses, and reaching for something farther.

Before he could reclaim the water gun, Zim stepped on Dib's bare hand with his booted foot. He shook his head. "Don't even think about it, Dib," He growled, kicking the boys head away from it. Dib moaned, his eyes now filled with pleading.

Zim smiled. "I will put an end to this now, Dib. One year and three months; that is enough. I will put an end to this rivalry, to your futile attempts to stop me. I will put an end to you."

His lower left PAK leg shot forward to scratch Dib's cheek, and Zim growled as he winced. He stabbed both bottom legs into the top of either side of Dib's coat, dragging him upward. The other PAK leg tilted Dib's chin up. "I want to see your miserable life leave your eyes," he explained.

The Irken aimed.

Dib coughed, though he didn't struggle. "Wait," he whispered.

Zim paused, an invisible eyebrow arching. Dib spoke again. "Please," he begged. "Please, Zim. Make it painless. I—I...can't take much more of this. Please, just do me this, Zim. Kill me painlessly."

Zim ignored it for the moment. He let his PAK leg fly forward, aiming for his head. And then, he stopped.

He stared at Dib, whose eyes were closed, cringing at the pain that was to be. Or was it?
Since he had met the worm, he had visualized his extermination. Tasting victory at Dib's defeat; that was one of his missions. So why was he hesitant toward this? It was what he wanted. He wanted to go back to his race, and to destroy Earth. Without Dib in the picture, it seemed like it would happen.

But now, to Zim, it somehow seemed incredibly empty. The Dib thing was an obstacle, an annoying little thorn in his side. Something he was eager to rid himself of, like a week of exams. He couldn't wait to yank the thorn out of his side and vaporize it. Make sure the dust of the puny enemy would blow away in the wind, forgotten.

Now, looking at the frightened features of this boy, this human who had given up so easily, he couldn't do it. Something in the back of his mind was shouting at him, telling him to let the boy run. Let him run, so that he may continue.

But that was absurd, of course; the Irken would only keep fighting with the human, and the wars between them would only become more elaborate and frequent.

Zim's eyes widened with the sudden realization.

Dib was, and probably would always be a thorn in the side. But this thorn had been sticking him for so long it had dulled to an ache, that ache dulling to a throb, and the throbbing to nothing at all. It was now natural part of him.

Zim had forced himself to believe in a rivalry that truly was no longer there. He could not kill this human, because if he did, his mission would collapse upon him. 'If I end the Dib-stinks life, what would be the fun in taking over this HORRIBLE planet?' he thought. If he was the bad guy, someone had to be the hero.

Zim retracted his PAK legs, and Dib dropped to the ground with a stunned, dog-unit-like squeak. Zim almost smirked.

"HYOOMAN!" he yelled dramatically, making Dib look up angrily. "It seems I have come to a stunning conclusion with my AMAZING brain!"

Dib glared at the alien, and the confident bravado covering Zim's recent realization faltered. The top panel to Zim's PAK opened, and he reached inside, watching Dib flinch.

"Here," Zim said, tossing the small egg to the boy. "A truce."

Dib's head shot up, immediately, and, though injured, he was on his feet in an instant. "What do you take me for? An idiot?" he yelled, clearly frustrated.

Zim shrugged. "I know not of you intellect, inferior worm child. All I know is that I propose—"

Dib crossed his arms and interrupted. "Because I'd really fall for that, you lizard!
Listen to yourself!"

Zim rolled his fake grey eyes. "I am. Clearly, you are not, Dib." Zim realized, with much shock and a bit of disgust, that that was the first time he had addressed him by his first name without malice.

Dib, it seemed, did too, and his eyebrows rose. "Are you serious? And I mean really serious here," he said incredulously, voice soft. He stared down at the egg in his palm.

Zim puffed out a long breath of exasperated air. "For the last time, human, yes! I see no point in destroying someone who is part of the reason I persist with my initial mission."

"So you'll stop trying to take over Earth, then?" Dib asked, hopeful.

Zim glared at Dib; the human was not making it easy to hold in his frustration with human intellect. "Of course not!" he shouted. "I am an Invader! And as such, I will take this
planet for the Mighty Irken Race!"

Dib shouted right back. "Then what the hell was the point of a 'truce'? If it's going to be the same, why bother?"

"Because," Zim shrugged. "I don't want to kill you." He met the boy's eyes for a second. "I spared you didn't I? I do not know about you, but I enjoy our fights and enmity. It's very easy to continue based on that. I believe that if I try to take over your dirt-planet, you have a right to stop me on all accounts." He paused. "But," he stated, his voice now softer and forced, feeling humiliated for the second time that day, "when I am not destroying, and you are not…er, being all parachutey—"

"Paranormal," Dib corrected.

"Whatever. When you aren't being paranormal," he said mocking the word. Dib smirked. "I propose that we be…friends."

Dib's mouth popped open. "Friends?" he asked, disbelieving.

Zim groaned internally. He somehow knew this would not be on Dib's To-Do list that day; befriend an alien invader. He almost laughed at himself. "It's a stupid idea, yes, but it is the only—"

Dib held a hand up, and Zim winced sympathetically at the bruised fingers. "Friendship is…a strong word, but I think I get it. It's a form of alliance that suits two adversaries." Dib seemed satisfied with this and nodded once to himself.

"Alright, Zim," he said, his voice turning business-like. "I accept this truce. I guess our, er, fetus here," he gestured to the egg, "will be our proof of it." He stuck out a hand.

Zim stepped back, confused. It looked like a gesture humans normally did, but Zim had never took in much more than that.

Dib rolled his gold eyes. "You shake it, moron," he said flatly. Zim did.

Both of them walked out of the alley, Dib limping, and Zim rolling his eyes, playfully annoyed at the inferior being.

They had both found something that spring evening, though both were too proud to admit it to the other. They had found a true first friend, and both of them were just fine with that.