AZ1: Group Projects of DOOM
By Angela D'Onofrio

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Jhonen Vasquez! All of it!
Thank-yous: To the AZ role-playing crew: Sean, Jen, Sparky, and Zephyr. Also to Grace, for encouraging me. And to caffiene. But a lot of thank yous to Jen in particular for giving me many GIR ideas. You are GIR, Jen.
Author's Notes: Go easy. This is my first IZ fic, and I'm paranoid about how well I kept Gaz in character. :) Other than that, enjoy!

"Alright, class," Ms. Bitters grumbled, rapping a ruler on her desk. "Today ... you have the extreme priveledge of beginning ... group projects."

Many members of the class cheered happily and began high-fiving each other. Zim peered out from behind his notebook curiously. "Group projects?" He whispered. Instantly, he looked over at Dib - who seemed less than thrilled at the prospect. Chewing thoughtfully on his lip for a moment, Zim decided to do the one thing that seemed to serve him well in these stinking human establishments of education - he raised his hand. "Miz Bitters?" He called out. "What exactly do these ... group projects ... entail?"

"You will work with one other student on a topic assigned to you for the school science fair. This student will more than likely shirk off on their appointed duties," she informed him acridly, "leaving you to do all their work at the last moment and netting you a grade that reflects their poor performance more than your own suffering."

Zim blinked. "I seee," he nodded. "Who are we to work with?"

"The school has assigned you to work ... amongst other classes. Each of you will be paired with a student from the fourth grade."

"Fourth grade?" The Letter M groaned. "They're all little braindead wimps!"

"Yeah!" Brian piped up. "I don't wanna work with any fourth grader!"

"ENOUGH!" Ms. Bitters snarled. "You will come forth and draw a name from this old biohazard container from the nurse's office. One at a time. No crowding. Or you will all suffocate and die."

Zim smiled to himself. I wish they *would* crowd each other. All those pitiful human worm babies drowning in their own selves! Waiting until the rest of the class had drawn their names, Zim stepped forward and glanced at the biohazard container. "Ms. Bitters?"

"Yes, Zim," she said tiredly.

"Are there .... GERMS ... on this box?"

"Several." Ms. Bitters replied.

Zim shuddered, then slowly reached forward and picked up the final slip of paper with the tips of his fingers.

"Whatsa'matter, ZIM?" Dib taunted from behind him. "Can't touch a little box? Don't want any alien life-threatening diseases?" He gave Zim a poke and the alien jumped, his hand hitting the side of the biohazard container.

"You will pay, Dib," Zim said lowly, crumpling the paper slip in his fist.

Dib merely laughed triumphantly and retreated to his desk. Unraveling the slip, he frowned. "Diablo, Pepito. Hmm. I wonder if Gaz knows him..."

"I taught Pepito last year," Ms. Bitters informed him, "before I started to teach your insipid class. ... You two are both rather ... interesting characters. You should get along well. .... You will notice," she addressed the class, "that your partners' phone numbers are on the papers as well. Take care of them, because I will not give them to you again, and then you would FAIL."

Dib shrugged, then tucked the paper into his pocket. "Who'd you get, ZIM?" He asked tauntingly. "I bet you got the stupidest kid in the class. Pepito and I are going to kick your green alien BUTT."

"Ohhhh," Zim smirked, tucking the paper into his notebook, "I'm not telling you, Dib."

Dib sneered at Zim for a moment, then his eyes widened. "Dear GOD, Zim! NO! You DIDN'T! Not ...."

"Gaz," Mr. Elliot called out. "Ms. Bitters has sent me the list of partners from her class. You are paired with a student named... Zim."

"Zim?" Gaz blinked, looking up from the copy of GameSlave Magazine she'd tucked into her textbook. "....Boy, Dib's gonna be real happy about this one."

"He doesn't seem to have a phone number listed here," Mr. Elliot fretted. "Do you know him at all?"

"Isn't he the green kid?" One student piped up from the back of the classroom. "HA HA! GAZ IS WORKING WITH THE GREEN KID!"

The entire class burst into mocking laughter. Gaz glared at them, then slumped back down in her seat. "Yeah, I know him," she shrugged. "My brother's convinced he's an alien or something."

"I ... see."

Pepito Diablo leaned over the side of his desk and poked Gaz in the shoulder. "I'm working with your brother, you know," he snickered. "I suppose you want me to make his life a living inferno?"

Gaz rubbed her hands together. "Pepito," she smirked, "I think that between the two of us, we should be able to make Dib very very ... miserable."

Pepito grinned. "Cool," he replied, giving her a thumbs-up. "Remind me why you hate him this week?"

"He took over the tv in the middle of the ZDTV "Making of Vampire Piggy Hunter 10" special to watch his stupid Mysterious Mysteries," Gaz snarled. "How could you forget that?"

"Oh yeeeeeeeeeeeeees," Pepito nodded. "I have that on tape, you know. I shall bring it to you when I take Woofles for his walk tonight."

"Sounds good." Gaz smiled. "After all - you're gonna be at my house a lot anyway. I'll probably have to go see Zim." She shrugged. "....... You gonna invite Dib to your house?" She winked. "For dinner?"

"Yes, that would be a good idea. Father would be very happy to meet him." Pepito smiled, rubbing his hands together. "A very good idea, Gaz. I shall invite your brother over to my home for ... Stove Top!"

"Cool," Gaz nodded, going back to her magazine. "Did you know GameSlave's coming out with a new console? The Trapezoid."

"Niiiiiiiiiiice!" Pepito grinned. "Course, I'm holding out on the Pandora Box."

"That thing? Macrosoft is in charge of that. You know it's gonna be junk."

"Nuh UH! My dad advises the guy in charge of Macrosoft. He's a client. So I get advance copies of all their stuff. I'll probably get one of the prototypes."

Gaz' eyes glazed over. "Prototype?" She drooled. "Okay, so, even if it is Macrosoft..."

"Aren't you glad we're friends?" Pepito grinned devilishly, looking very much like his father.

"We're not friends," Gaz replied, snapping out of it. "Remember? I don't have friends. There's a difference between friends and people who play video games and plot the doom of my brother together."

Pepito sighed. "Right."

When the bell finally rang that day, the usual explosion of children through the dingy green doors of the Skool occured, accompanied by the usual mindless joyful screaming. Mingled in with it, Zim noticed a few mumbles about the group projects, but paid them no heed.

"DID you, Zim? DID you?"

Zim sighed as Dib attacked him verbally from behind. "I saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaid, I am not telling you. Get a new set of ears, DIB." He flattened his antennae out proudly and strode down the steps.

Dib glared at Zim silently for a moment, then pulled a plastic water pistol out of his backpack and squirted Zim with it, smirking. "Tell me, Zim. You know I have unlimited ammunition."

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRG!" Zim screeched, cringing as the water splattered against his leg. "No! You think you can make me TALK?"

"Of course," Dib smiled menacingly, as Zim backed down the steps of the Skool, losing his balance and falling antennae-over-boots onto the sidewalk. "Now, tell me who you're working with."

"Dib...." Gaz droned from behind him, "let's go home already. Dad might actually have five minutes free today. And I WANT to BE there." She grabbed his trenchcoat and dragged him down the stairs past Zim. "Oh, and, uh, Zim? .... I need your home phone or something."

"I KNEW IT!" Dib shrieked, squirting Zim once more for good measure. "I swear, you even try laying eggs in her or making HER your science project, Zim, and I'll...."

"Oh, please," Zim said, as calmly as he could with a sizzling leg, "I have much more interesting things in mind for this project."

"Sure," Gaz muttered, pulling her GameSlave from her coat and still managing to drag Dib down the sidewalk. "Don't ask me what I want to do."

"Gaz........." Dib said quietly. "You can let me go now."

"If you go chasing after Zim, then you miss out on seeing Dad for the next year and a half. Your loss."

"Year and a half?" Dib blinked, detatching himself. "What about Family Night?"

"Didn't you see the memo on the fridge this morning?" Gaz shrugged, swerving effortlessly to avoid a fire hydrant. "Something came up for next year."

"Geez," Dib frowned. "...... Well, still, Gaz. Watch your back. Zim will use any chance he gets to make you one of his mindless alien drone slaves!"

"Sure."

"I'm serious, Gaz! Did you see that kid, Keef, after Zim was friends with him for a day? He started chasing squirrels! SQUIRRELS!"

"Everyone needs a hobby. Now, stop bugging me. I wanna get to the save point before we get home and it's only half a level away."

"Fine. But you're not giving him our home phone."

"....... What, you think he's ET? ... Do me a favor, Dib."

"Anything, Gaz. Outfit you with a bug for the project sessions? Give you a lesson in alien self-defense?"

"Something even more effective."

"Really?" Dib stopped in his tracks, interest piqued. "What would that be?"

"Shut up."

The house seemed relatively still as Zim approached, pausing long enough to adjust the "I 'heart' Earth" flag on his lawn. Quiet always meant trouble, no matter what planet you were from or on ... even moreso if you owned a defective robot named GIR.

"Welcome home, son!" The parent decoys chimed as Zim opened the door. He paid them no heed as he marched straight for the kitchen.

"GIR!" He hollered. "GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIR!"

Almost instantly, Gir came rocketing out of the toilet at the back of the kitchen, smacking straight into Zim's chest. He flopped down on the floor and clasped his hands, uplifting his large, round aqua eyes up to his master. "Yeeeeeeeeeees?"

"What are you up to?"

"....Nuuuuuthin'."

"GIR. What." Zim put on his best no-nonsense face and tapped his foot.

"..... I made you a pizza!" GIR proclaimed happily, holding out a round motherboard covered in circuitry and Irken computer components, stuck together with caramel sauce.

"........ WHAT?" Zim snatched the motherboard from GIR's hands, inspecting it carefully. "GIR! These are the extra components I was using to build that supersatellite conductor! RUUUIINNNNED!" Tossing the components on the floor, Zim glared down at the little Sir unit. "WHY did you DO this?"

"Awwwwww...." GIR sniffled, picking up the board from the linoleum. "Master doesn't like his pizza..." He began to cry, hugging it and getting caramel sauce all over his joints. "It's okay, pizza ... GIR will make it alllll better..." With that, he took a giant bite out of it.

".... I didn't say it was a bad pizza, GIR," Zim sighed. "I just think that you could make pizza out of better things than EXTREMELY RARE IRKEN CIRCUITRY!!!"

GIR gulped down the rest of the pizza, hugging Zim around the ankles. "I want a chinchilla!" He piped.

"That's nice, GIR. ... Now go watch that monkey of yours or something." Zim muttered, walking toward the toilet, GIR attatched to his leg like a ball and chain. "I need to come up with an alternate plan now. I was going to overtake the Orange Children's Channel and broadcast my likeness across Earth... and then the children would have followed meeeeeeeeeeee. But you seem to have thwarted that, haven't you."

"Uh huuuuh." GIR smiled happily.

"GIR, that's bad." Zim growled. "Now let GO of me."

"Ummmmmmmmmmmokaaaay." Grunting, GIR attempted to free himself from Zim's calf. Unfortunately, the caramel from the motherboard-pizza had adhered itself to him, and in turn, cemented him to Zim. "Nope. Can't do it." GIR said plainly.

"Terrific," Zim rolled his eyes, grabbing a spatula and attempting to pry GIR loose. "What am I supposed to do about THIS?"

"We could make snickerdoodles!" GIR cheered, grabbing onto the handle of the stove door. "WHEE!"

"Snickerdoodles?" Zim blinked. "What on Irk are those?"

"I dunno. They sound fun."

"Hmmmm." Zim mused, sitting down on the floor. "I do not know how to get you off of me, GIR, since many cleaning instructions on this planet involve the use of ... " he shuddered, "water."

"WHEEE! I wanna take a BATH!"

"GIR, be quiet. Water is bad. I need to get you off of me without getting wet."

"OOOOO!" GIR piped, staring out the door into the living room.

"....... Now what?" Zim winced.

The doorbell rang.

"SAMURAI!" GIR cheered. "Come on! I wanna see the samurai!"

"Not without your DISGUIIIIIIIIIIIISE!" Zim yelped, as GIR dragged him toward the door and flung it open. "GIR, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"HI SAMURAI!" GIR squeaked.

".... I'm not... a samurai." Gaz informed him. "Hi Zim. You didn't give me your number so I figured I should come and tell you that if that's the way you're going to act about this project, I might as well work alone. Because I will not get an F on this project. It's half my grade. And I'm sick of being the only one who does work in these things."

Zim blinked. Gaz didn't even notice that he had a robot clinging to his leg. Or did she, but only not care? Interesting. "You wish to work on the project."

Gaz reached up and knocked on his head. "Man, Zim. For an alien, you're pretty dumb. Yes."

"Alien? I am not an alien."

"Whatever you say. Look, I wanna do something about video games. And I know you've got some serious technology hanging around here. Dib had photos."

"Had...."

"I took em." Gaz held up a disk. "He's been hunting for them for a month." The tiniest hint of a smile appeared on her face. "I will have my vengeance."

Zim cocked his head, staring at the Dib-human's sister for a moment in astonishment before uttering a low chuckle. "I have the feeling that you and I will share the same motive in this competition..."

"To make Dib look like a stupid idiot?"

"Precisely."

Gaz smiled sadistically. "I'm all for it."

Dib paced back and forth in front of the couch, wearing a furrow in the carpet as Mysterious Mysteries played on the TV. "Zim is working with my sister. This will not do. He could learn things about me - Gaz hates me. Who knows what dark and disastrous things she could reveal to him about our family? Who knows what he could do to her? I should do something to protect her. But ... on the other hand ... she could tell all!" Dib clenched his fist, ground his teeth, and made other gestures of moral confliction.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

The unimaginable.

The impossible.

"Son!" Professor Membrane's voice hailed over the intercom. "You have a telephone call!"

"Me?" Dib blinked. Might be the Swollen Eyeball Net. But they hardly ever use phones. Maybe it's an emergency! He blinked. "Who did they ask for?"

"You."

"No, I mean, what did they call me?"

"They asked for you. Now, don't keep them waiting, son. I have an experiment to work on, so you can reheat the fish sticks in the freezer for supper."

Dib sighed, then remembered - he had a phone call! Diving across the couch, he picked up the phone and tried to sound calm. "Yes?"

"You are Dib."

"Yeah, that's me..." He said hesitantly. "Who is this?"

"You will come to my house for dinner at precisely six o'clock. We will discuss the things that are to be. I live at 666 Woodlawn."

Dib frowned. "Who is this?"

"All in good time, amigo."

With that, the phone line went dead, and Dib was left staring at a dial-tone-muttering receiver. "Six o'clock. Triple-six, Woodlawn," he murmured. "......... Something's not right."

Gaz smiled as much as she ever allowed herself to as Zim hauled out boxes of Irken holographic circuitry. "And you know what all this stuff does?"

"Most of it," he replied frankly, dumping it out on the floor.

"TINKERTOYS!" GIR chimed happily, diving into the pile. Deftly, he began to construct a tower shaped like a giant burrito.

"GIR, I need that." Zim took a wire from the bottom of the tower, and it toppled.

"MY BURRITO!" GIR howled. "Nooooooooooo....!"

Gaz blinked. "Why don't you fix him?" She asked, as GIR plopped down on the couch and turned on the Scary Monkey Show.

"He is supposed to act that way to fool the enemy."

"Aren't I the enemy?" She said flatly.

"That has been suspended for the time being, but ... yes."

"I'm not fooled."

Zim blinked. "You should be." He reached over and knocked on GIR's head. "The Tallest do not lie. I shall have to look at his circuitry later." With that, he resumed digging through the parts. "Now, you said we should build a fully interactive virtually realistic portable console?"

"Yeah - like an eyepiece with gloves or something - but something that'll let you feel the whole thing. Like ..." Gaz unsquinted one eye to look at the pile of technojunk. "... Like a full-body VR. Say you get hit by the vampire piggies. You feel it. Maybe you even fall over. But you couldn't get hurt."

After a moment, Zim reached over to another metal box and pulled out a strange-looking pair of earphones. "Like this?"

"That's earphones."

Wordlessly, Zim placed the device on Gaz' head and hit a button on the side. Instantly, a forcefield of sorts sprang up around her body, then shimmered into invisibility. A band of light circled her eyes, and a holographic representation of a keypad appared in front of her.

"Enter training mode," the device ordered in a tinny voice.

"Um ... there's some funny symbols here," Gaz reported.

"Choose the one on the left," Zim instructed her. "That's the beginning."

Gaz did so, and instantly her eyes widened in amazement. "Zim," she said, ducking down, "this is awesome. I nearly got hit by ... I think it was a meteor?"

"Minimeteors. First training course obstacle." Zim smirked. "Will that do?"

"This is ... " Gaz' comment was cut off as something seemed to hit her in the midsection, and she toppled backwards, ricocheting off the couch and skidding to Zim's feet. "OW."

"You got hit?"

Gaz pulled off the headphones, nodding. "That...." she panted, "was ... the coolest thing I have ever seen."

"Will it do?" Zim repeated.

She nodded once more. "I'll need to maybe convert some of my GameBase 2 games into a format that would work ... so that people get a familiar demo. Do you have the stuff to do that?"

"I do. But I can't let you into the room." Zim said firmly, taking the headset back from Gaz. "That would be too much."

"You don't trust me in your lab because I'm Dib's sister, do you?" She squinted at him.

"No." Zim replied plainly.

"But I hate Dib."

"He could wire you. I know that he has the technology. ... It must be convenient being the offspring of a scientific human." Zim cocked his head, his antennae piqued.

"No." Gaz shrugged, inspecting a strange part that lay on the top of the pile.

"I love this shooowwww," GIR piped up from the couch, gnawing on a pillow.

"GIR. Stop that."

"It be gooood," GIR smiled widely.

Zim sighed, then began putting the parts back in their boxes. "So our project is done. You bring me the files and I convert them."

"I have to do something." Gaz protested.

GIR hopped off the couch and promptly grabbed Gaz around the ankles. "Make me a pizza!" He pleaded.

"Pizza?" Gaz' eye twitched.

"Hmm. You can keep GIR out of my lab while I convert your files," Zim concluded, showing Gaz toward the door. "Good night."

"Wait ---" Gaz blurted. Before she could say anything more, Zim had shut the blue men's room door in her face. "You can't do this to me!" Gaz snarled. "I'm HALF YOUR GRADE, ZIIIM!" Snorting, she clenched her fists, then suddenly relaxed as a thought occured to her. And he's half of mine. If I tick him off, he probably won't let me use any of that stuff. And that's a guaranteed 'A' sitting on his living room floor. ... Maybe I can hold off on letting my wrath loose until we've been graded. Smiling to herself, Gaz hefted her backpack up further on her shoulder and took the Game Slave 2 out of its carefully padded pocket, playing Last Illusion 7 all the way home.

"C'mon, Nimbus," she urged the main character, as he took a swipe at the boss. "You just have one more move to the limit break. Don't die on me. .... " Gritting her teeth, she paused the game long enough to unlock the front door. Setting her backpack on the table, she noticed a note on her placemat.

Gaz - Have gone to 666 Woodlawn on what I assume is a top-secret mission, possibly from the Swollen Eyeball Net. Will return later tonight. Dib. PS - Fish sticks are in the fridge. Dad's working as usual.

With a chuckle, Gaz put Dib's note in the garbage. "Have fun at dinner, Dib," she smirked, picking up the phone and sliding a credit card she'd purloined from her father out from beneath a loose space in the counter linoleum. "Hi.... Bloaty's Pizza Hog? I'd like to order an eight-inch thick crust pizza with pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese. And a large Red Alert Peak Rain soda. .... Membrane? ... Thanks. No problem. OH - and throw in some of those cheese sticks with the dippy sauce. Thanks." With that, Gaz headed over to the stereo and turned it on, settling in at the kitchen table for a game and a pizza - her favorite way to spend a night by herself.

There were pink flamingoes on the front lawn.

Dib scratched his head.

Didn't ZIM have pink flamingoes on his front lawn? Not to mention the amazing amount of dark smoke spewing from the chimney of what, for all other accounts save those freaking flamingoes, looked like any other normal mid-middle-class home. One-car garage, two stories. Venetian blinds. Smears' Custom Siding in an interesting shade of cream. To any other passerby, yes, normal indeed. But to a fledgling member of the ever-vigilant Swollen Eyeball Net? Far TOO normal.

Steeling himself for whatever odd paranormal threat might linger behind the doors of 666 Woodlawn, Dib straightened the collar of his trenchcoat and marched up the driveway to ring the doorbell. Maybe it's a Nosferatu ... or a genetic mutant lizard-moose hybrid ... or ... or ...

The door swung open. "Hiiiii!"

Dear GOD, it's worse than I thought - a housewife straight out of Donna Reed! Dib's eye twitched.

The blonde woman smiled, not a smudge of her pink lipstick on her teeth, turned her mascara-edged eyes up happily at the corners, and sang out cheerfully, "Pepiiiiiitooooo! Your little friend is here!" Dusting her hands off on her apron, she ushered Dib into the house. "Helloooo. I'm Pepito's mom ... you can call me Maggie... and you are?"

"Dib," he managed, as she shook his hand.

"Such a nice boy," Maggie gushed, flashing another smile that gleamed more brightly than the silver cross around her neck. "We're having Shake n' Bake," she informed him. "You aren't a vegetarian, I hope? Dear goodness, I forgot to ask."

"Chicken's fine," Dib shrugged, looking cautiously around. Normal, middle-class living room. Dark red couches and a black leather armchair arranged devoutly around that altar of modern society, the big-screen television. Deep pile carpet, fireplace crackling merrily. Landscapes that smacked faintly of Currier and Ives hanging on the walls. "Nice place you have here..."

"You must be ... Dib."

Dib froze, recognizing the voice from the telephone. "Yes," he replied slowly, turning around.

"I am Pepito - your lab partner from Mr. Elliot's class." He intoned, holding out a hand.

Accepting the handshake, Dib nodded. "Nice to meet you, Pepito." Are those ... horns?

"Let us discuss the project," Pepito smiled. "We shall go up to my room. Later, perhaps, Father will let us use his workspace in the basement."

"Okay...." Dib looked over his shoulder to see Maggie wave cheerfully at him before following Pepito up the stairs. Was it just him, or was his lab partner almost floating up the steps? No... "So what did you have in mind? I mean, I can probably figure out just about anything you'd wanna dream up."

"It is as you wish," Pepito shrugged, opening the door to his room - which was adorned with an inverted 5-pointed star made of craft sticks, yarn, and paint. A small chihuahua scampered through the door and instantly began nipping at Dib's ankles, yipping.

"GAAAH!" Dib shrieked, as the dog chomped onto the hem of his coat and started pulling.

"Woofles!" Pepito admonished. "No! Bad dog! I'll give you something to gnaw on later." He reached down and pulled the diminuitive animal off of Dib. Woofles instantly stopped snarling and curled up in Pepito's arms, looking for all the world like a cute, innocent family pet. "Sorry about that. Woofles still must learn to be kind to the company."

"...... It's okay," Dib rasped, inspecting his coat for any serious damage.

"I can have my mother fix that," Pepito added, sitting down on his bed. "Have a seat."

Dib obliged, seating himself on a rug under a poster depicting the layers of Dante's Inferno. ".... Interesting room," he remarked.

"Thank you," Pepito smiled. "Now, what do you think we should do?"

"I'd personally love some sort of evil detector," Dib decided. "Something that would go off whenever someone was up to no good." I could track Zim much easier that way.

"Hmmm.... yes .... That would be promising. Father would enjoy that idea."

"What does your dad do?" Dib asked.

"He's a businessman. Deals with a lot of famous people. You could say he's in promotion and publicity." Pepito kicked his feet over the edge of his bed, Woofles curled contentedly in his lap.

"So he'd want it to see if people were making bad deals on him?" Dib guessed.

"Not quite. But close enough," Pepito said cryptically. "I like this idea of yours, Dib. Do you have the technology for this ...evil detector?"

"Yeah. Well, the machinery. I don't know how I could have the mechinism to register the evil though. I'd need something as a base."

"I think I can get something. Father has many unique things in his basement. He's... a collector."

"Of what?"

"Things."

There again with the cryptic replies. Dib blinked. "Okay.... yeah."

"Kiiiiids!" Maggie chirped from the foot of the stairs. "Dinner! And Pepito, your father's home!"

"Father!" Pepito grinned. "Come on, Dib. You must meet my father!"

Dib shrugged, following Pepito down the stairs. Woofles trailed behind, nipping at the soles of his boots the whole way. A tall, lithe blond man in a grey business suit stood near the doorway, polishing his glasses as he spoke to his wife.

"....so anyway, then the kid started joking around and asking me if I wanted to play chess. Kids have no respect for my position anymore. Seriously. I keep finding pictures of goats tacked to my office door. Revolting...."

"I'm sorry you had a bad day, Juan, honey," Maggie pouted, standing on her toes to give her husband a kiss. "Did you at least get some new deals?"

"Yep. SON!" He called out.

"Father!" Pepito smiled, as his father bent to give him a hug. "Do you wish me to take your briefcase down to the basement?"

"Sure thing, kid." Juan Diablo handed Pepito the large black case, then caught sight of Dib. "Soon as you introduce me to your friend."

"This is Dib, Father," Pepito said. "He and I are working together for school. May we use something from your worktable?"

"Like what?" Juan narrowed his eyes, then smiled as Pepito whispered in his ear. "That'll be one heckuva project," he chuckled. "Go right ahead. Just don't let Woofles down there. You know how he gets in the basement."

"Yes, Father."

"Hi," Dib said awkwardly.

"How d'you do, Dib? I hear you're to be taking dinner with us."

"Yes, sir."

"Sir? Well. Manners! I rarely see that." Juan blinked, impressed. "If you'll excuse me, I need to change for dinner..."

Dib turned to see Pepito throw the briefcase through the cellar door, and he could have sworn he heard screaming. But he had convinced himself that there was nothing to be paranoid about here - the Diablos were just an average family.

"So," Senor Diablo continued, taking his seat at the table, "are you and Pepito in the same class?"

Dib looked up, and then did what any distinguished Swollen Eyeball Net agent would have done upon getting their first glance at the Devil himself in his true form - he passed out.

"More water, Dib?"

"......."

Maggie smiled and took that as a yes, reaching over and refilling Dib's glass. "Sooo, what are you boys going to be working on?"

"An evil detector," Pepito gushed. "It's going to be the best thing at the fair!"

"It certainly sounds intriguing," Senor Diablo smiled, picking off the last of his chicken. "... Are you well, Dib? You're not eating."

You wouldn't either if you were me, Dib thought, nervously picking holes in his napkin under the table. "Oh ... I had a late lunch," he managed.

"Well we're so sorry you had that dizzy spell," Maggie chirped. "It must have been the heat from the boiler in the basement."

"The basement..." Pepito muttered, then winced.

"Son?" Senor Diablo said firmly. "What's wrong?"

As if to answer, a loud growl issued from the basement steps. Then a tiny black dog with three gigantic, drooling, snarling heads burst into the kitchen.

"PEPITO!" Maggie scolded. "Keep your DOG out of the BASEMENT!"

".... Woofles," Pepito sighed, jogging over to the hell-hound and rapping him on the nose with his fork. "BAD dog. Now where's your collar? Down there? .... Come onnn...."

Dib blinked. "......Cerberus?" He squeaked.

"No, no. Cerberus was my dog, about 200 years ago," Senor Diablo corrected him. "Woofles is about the tenth generation. ... Therefore he's not quite all there."

Dib stared in terror as many eerie noises issued from the basement. Then Pepito re-emerged, Woofles now collared and back in his "normal" state. "You go sit in the corner," Pepito scolded. "And no leftovers."

Woofles whined and slunk towards his doggie bed in the kitchen corner, tail between his legs.

"Sorry about that," Pepito sighed, sliding back into his chair.

"I have to be going," Dib said suddenly. "Thank you for dinner, Maggie. It was great. Nice meeting you too, uh .... sir." Dib managed a brief glance at the devil before heading for the door.

"Hey, um, Dib? When do you want to get together again for the project?"

"Tomorrow. After school." Dib replied, already halfway out the door. "At my house."

"Pizzapizzapizzaaaaaaaaaa."

Gaz sat sullenly on the couch, her chin in her hands. "GIR."

"Yeeeeees?"

"How long is this show?"

"Scary Monkey channel on allllllllllllllll day," GIR chirped happily, placing the telephone directory on his head. "Look! I'm a captain!"

"Uh huh." Gaz pulled her Game Slave out of her backpack and began loading her last game. "How long do the Bloaty's people usually take to get here? .... GIR?"

"WHEEEEEEHOO!" GIR cheered, swinging around the countless wires and conduits that made up Zim's ceiling. "I'm a MONKEY!"

Gaz shrugged, then reached over and pressed a button on the side table. "ZIM!"

"Yeeees?"

"Are you DONE yet?"

"What? DONE? Meeeee? Never!"

"WHAT?"

Zim coughed. "... Well... almost. Yes. Almost."

"How much longer?"

"It depends. The splines are taking longer than I thought they would. But it will be done." He paused. "Oh yes. It willlllll be done ... and it will be my finest creation ... yessss..."

Gaz sighed. "Well I ordered pizza." She heard a shudder on the other end of the line. "You don't like pizza."

"Noooo."

"More for me, then." With that, she closed the connection and went back to playing. A few levels later, the doorbell rang. "GIR, can you get that?"

"Oooooo...... it is GOD," GIR said slowly, moving to the door with an air of reverence. As he opened the door, a Bloaty's delivery boy with stringy hair and a pink shirt handed him their pizza. "I love you, God," GIR sniffled, hugging the delivery boy around the ankles before trotting over to the coffee table with the pizza.

Almost instantly, the two of them - gamer and robot - tore into the pizzaa with a reverent fervor. After a few moments' scarfing, a quandary arose.

Only one slice remained in the box.

One slice of Cheesy Adoration Meat Bonanza pizza.

Gaz glared at GIR.

GIR smiled at Gaz.

They both lifted their hands, and Gaz wiggled her fingers like John Sayne in a cowboy movie. GIR whistled a few bars of "The Good, The Bad, and the Not-So-Nice-Looking".

Then he struck, and before Gaz could blink, GIR was halfway to the kitchen, the pizza sitting on his head. "Wheeeeeeeeeee! I gots me a HAT!"

"GIIIRRRRRR!" Gaz snarled, racing after him. "GIVE ME THE PIZZA!"

GIR paused, then walked up to Gaz. Looking up at her, he took the pizza slice up in his hand. Then he swatted her on the arm with it and dove into the trash can. "YOU'RE IT!"

Gaz growled low in the back of her throat, then opened the lid, intent on pulling GIR out and beating the circuits out of him for ruining her pizza. But the trashcan opened into a dark conduit of some sort, and she climbed inside, brought down a lift that reminded her of those old futuristic cartoons on the Oldies Network. As soon as she neared the floor of what she realized was Zim's lab, she searched for GIR and found him racing around the storage tanks, pizza still on his head. Not waiting for the door to open completely, Gaz wrenched her way out and dashed after GIR.

"GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRR!"

"Heheheheheheeeeeeee!" GIR giggled insanely as he ran towards the console where Zim was working and jumped up onto the counter. "HI MASTER!"

"GIR!" Zim gasped. "Get that GREASY piece of filth off your head and get OFF my computer!"

GIR's eyes flashed red. "Yes master, I obey!" Then he promptly jumped onto Zim's head. "I'm King of the Mountain!" He squeaked.

Then Gaz pounced on him, knocking all three of them to the floor.

"........ Next time," Zim huffed, picking himself up off the floor, "you two are ordering Chinese."

The days until the science fair passed swiftly enough for many of the other students, but for Gaz, Zim, and Dib, they crawled by. It turned out, Zim discovered, that it didn't matter what type of takeout Gaz ordered - the day always ended with a mad chase though the innermost workings of his laboratory. Gaz was put on record as saying that it reminded her of some cartoon she watched sometimes about a boy and his sister. It also turned out, Dib discovered, that it didn't matter whose house the meetings were held at - Pepito always found some way to creep the living daylights out of him. But somehow day led to day, and finally the student groups convened in the skool gymnasium on a perfectly gloomy Saturday morning.

"I should be watching cartoons," Brian muttered, as he and a girl named Gree set up their project - some sort of conglamoration of tin foil and Christmas lights.

"Forget that," Gree sighed wistfully. "I usually play video games on Saturdays..."

"Speaking of. Check THAT out!" Brian gaped, pointing to Gaz, who was wearing the videophones on her head. "Looks like VR!"

"Niiiice!" Gree gushed. "Let's go check it out!"

By the time the judges arrived, almost the entire crowd of children had amassed around Gaz and Zim, all clamoring to try out the project.

"Of couuuurrse you can try it," Zim crooned, taking the videophones off Gaz' head and discreetly pressing a button before handing it to Zita.

Zita grinned, then slid the headphones over her ears. Almost instantly, her expression became rapt. Student after student played the five-minute demo that Zim had programmed into the videophones - save for two. Two students standing patiently in the corner - one of them holding a device that looked like a cross between a hand-held, old-fashioned LED game and a remote control.

"I knew it. I knew he was up to something."

"Whoa," Pepito blinked. "That meter's hot."

"Very," Dib agreed.

"I don't see what he could be doing," Pepito added, scrutinizing the crowd. "It's just a VR game."

"....That's what he'd want you to think."

"Hey," one of the aspiring game-testers piped up, "I went over and saw Dib's thingy ... it doesn't hold a candle to this! It's some sort of bogus evil detector."

"Trying to catch Bigfoot again?" Melvin snickered.

"Probably," Sara scoffed, as Torque Spackey lumbered past, the videophones attatched to his head.

"Evil detector?" Zim mused, then withdrew a tiny, one-buttoned remote from his pack. "Now," he hissed.

Torque immediately changed the direction of his meanderings, heading straight for Dib. "....Mission objective," he muttered, ripping the meter from Dib's hands.

"No, WAAAIT!" Dib cried, as Torque placed the meter on the ground and stepped on it judiciously.

"Mission completed ... enemy documents destroyed," he said proudly, taking off the videophones. "Man, that's a cool spygame. Who's next?"

"ZIM!" Dib hollered. "I KNOW you're behind this!!"

"Go," Zim said quietly.

Instantly, the students who had tried on the videophones began to march slowly towards Dib and Pepito.

"Crap," Dib blinked.

"Stand back, Amigo," Pepito announced, rolling up his sleeves. "This is a job for .... The Anti-Christ!!" He curled his hands, summoning up two large fireballs, and hurled them at the oncoming horde. Meanwhile, Dib scanned the crowd for Gaz.

"Gaz!" He called out. "GAAAZ! ... I swear, Zim," he muttered to himself, rounding the gym and coming to a halt at the open back door, "if you've brainwashed her..."

Suddenly, he felt more than saw something looming above him, and yelped as Zim swooped down from where he'd been hanging off the basketball hoop, his arachno-legs scrabbling on the gym floor. "Not yet," Zim replied with a wicked smirk. "But I'm getting there."

Dib scrambled backward awkwardly on his hands and knees, then his hands touched air and he tumbled down the small flight of steps to the sidewalk. "You can't have Gaz," he panted, struggling to get to his feet. "You just ... can't!"

"Oh, can't I?" Zim leered, stretching out his hands as he slowly began to descend the staircase. "As soon as I have you out of the way...."

Dib winced, as one of Zim's legs pinned his coat down to the pavement. Zim drew closer, and Dib turned his head, feeling the alien's hands draw closer, surely seeking out his throat...

"Hey! ZIM!" Gaz called out irritably from the doorway. "Get IN here ... they're judging!"

Zim's antennae perked up, and he quickly retracted the arachno-legs, scrambling into the gym. "We will finish this after the judgings, DIB...."

"In your dreams, ZIM!"

The three of them made their way to the center of the gymnasium, amongst several blackened and bruised students. Pepito smiled sadly as he handed Gaz a small, mangled twist of plastic. "As much of a work of gaming genius as it was ... I had to extract some vengeance. I am sure you understand."

Gaz nodded slowly, sighing. "I gotta say I didn't expect the hypno-chip." She cast a glare over her shoulder at Zim. "We could have won if he hadn't tried to bring his whole take over the world thing into it!"

"And WE could have won, if your brother hadn't decided to go all save the world on me." Pepito agreed.

"Zim."

"Dib."

The two of them smirked at each other. "Vengeance mode activated?" Gaz suggested.

"Full-power," Pepito nodded. "First chance we get, they're both ours."

"SILENCE, CHILDREN!" Ms. Bitters thundered from the center court line of the gym. Beside her, Mr. Elliot waggled a finger in his ear, wincing. ".... We will now share our decision on the winning project."

The students all looked around the gym. The majority of the projects had been charred by Pepito's outburst, and the only two left standing were quite mediocre indeed.

"Second place," Ms. Bitters announced, "is Sara and Leah's pet rock."

"YAAAAAAAY!" Leah and Sarah squealed, jumping up and down.

"And first place goes toooo..." Mr. Elliot pulled a tablecloth off a stool at his side. "Brian and Gree's Christmas light organizer!"

Zim took one look at the tangle of lights and tin foil, then cast a glare over at Dib, only to find he was receiving one in return.

"I hate you," they both seethed.