Zim had landed on Earth a few months ago. As soon as his base had set itself up he had created a brilliant human disguise and began walking the streets every day – familiarizing himself with the city he would living in for the next several years as well as learning about the native inhabitants. He took mental notes of anything that piqued his interest, paying special mind to things that could be used as weapons against an alien invasion. He was not impressed with what he was learning about this planet and was already becoming frustrated with his assignment of preparing it for conquest.

Back on Irk Zim was exposed to violence and hostility on a daily basis and is a highly skilled fighter because of it. He had become so bored with these oblivious, complacent humans that he was itching for some form of conflict - any kind. Zim saw a particularly large and strong-looking human standing at a street corner. He walked up to him and deliberately kicked the man in the knee with his sturdy Irken boot. The man grabbed his knee and looked down at the shorter male – Zim didn't even come up to the man's shoulder.

"Ow! You hurt my leg!" He cried. Zim grinned expectantly and shifted into a fighting stance. But the man just gave Zim a pathetically watery-eyed look, bottom lip quivering. An elderly woman came up to him out of nowhere and helped support him like a crutch and they shuffled off together.

Zim stood there, still in perfect attack form, shocked at what had just happened. "I can't believe this." He muttered, then sulked away in the opposite direction.

Zim turned the corner and saw that he had come upon a park that he had never seen before. Disgusting Earth children were running around on the equipment, laughing and drooling and being disgusting. One fat child ran right into his leg then fell back onto the ground on his butt. Zim looked down at him impatiently and the child began crying loudly. Zim grimaced then noticed he was holding an ice cream cone – with no ice cream on it. Zim felt something cold on his thigh and calf and knew that goopy ice cream was now dripping down his pants and into his boots.

"Billy! What are you doing?" A woman yelled then grabbed the bawling boy by his wrist. She dragged him off towards the ice cream truck that was parked at the corner. Billy threw the ice cream cone without a further thought; it landed next to Zim's foot.

"No apology." Zim muttered under his breath, not surprised. "Uncivilized humans. I hate it here."

He sat on a bench and took his boot off – holding it upside down so that the creamy substance could drip out. It had sour gumballs in it. "Why do humans make gumballs sour? What's wrong with them?" He grumbled as he discreetly cleaned up his clothes with different accessories located in his PAK.

Zim noticed in the corner of his eye that Billy was now running back toward him - with a double scoop ice cream cone in his hand now. Zim wasn't done cleaning his boot and really didn't want to walk on the dirt without shoes on. "Watch where you are going, worm baby!" He yelled, preparing to throw his boot at the hyper child's head.

Another child suddenly darted out from behind a tree and tackled the chubby boy to the ground. After the two stopped rolling the new boy stood victoriously – holding Billy's treat in the air. Somehow the ice cream had stayed on the cone. The new child laughed malevolently in the fallen child's face then ran off. Zim smiled approvingly at the attack then to his delight the other boy ran back up to a still astonished Billy and kicked dirt into his face. Then he ran off again, messily licking on the ice cream cone as he went. Zim heard his mean laughing as he disappeared down the street and laughed heartily with him. Billy started crying again.

After that Zim started going to the park every day, and every day the aggressive boy was there. He had black, pointy hair and always wore black pants and a black jacket. He was very easy to locate since he was always running around the park terrorizing the other kids, even ones much older than him. He would target kids with food or toys that caught his fancy, which he would gleefully steal, or kids that were in his way on the equipment he wanted to play on. Zim was always very entertained when he watched this kid 'play' with the other children. Many of the parents gave Zim dirty looks when he couldn't stop his boisterous laughing at their children's expense.

Zim tried several times to approach the youth but the kid never let him get close. Zim could easily catch him if he used his PAK legs but wouldn't risk exposing his true identity. This kid is the only thing Zim had encountered on this planet that he didn't hate and he desperately wanted to know more about him. He was frustrated that he hadn't been able to catch the brat but also thrilled with the chase.

"Oh man, that kid's great." Zim laughed. He had just tried again, unsuccessfully, to chase the kid down. The brat had stuck out his tongue tauntingly and ran off making farting sounds. "Who's his parental unit?" He asked a woman sitting on a bench. She gave him a very disapproving look, rubbing the back of her bawling son (the boy's latest victim). It was actually Billy's mom but Zim didn't care to notice.

"No one has ever seen him with a parent." She grumped. "And he's a menace. They should send him to Juvenile Hall. Or the pound!" She then took her fat kid with her and started walking toward the ice cream truck.

"Why do you keep bringing that sack of lard here if he can't handle a little playground bullying?" Zim remarked, lying casually on the bench she had just vacated. The insulted expression on her face when she looked back at Zim was priceless – Zim exploded into laughter once again.

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"Okay, no more playing around. I'm getting that monkey today!" Zim chuckled to himself. He had arrived at the park right at dawn and stealthily approached a cluster of trees near the swing set. He plan was to hide in the trees until the kid came to swing, which he did often, and snatch him up when he swung high enough. Zim did not anticipate that the boy would be there, sleeping peacefully on the ground at the base of one of the trees.

Zim walked up to him confidently. The boy had balled up his jacket and was using it as a pillow. Zim took hold of the corner then ripped it out from under him. The boy's head fell to the ground and he made an unhappy grunting noise. It was still and calm for a moment as the boy opened his eyes but didn't move – his sluggish brain lagging in realizing that he wasn't alone. Zim dangled his jacket in front of his eyes. "I win." He taunted.

The kid grabbed for the jacket but Zim easily pulled it out of his reach. He was on his feet in a flash and jumping around Zim, trying his best to reclaim his coat. Zim was surprised by the boy's tenacity, he was driven back a few steps when he almost lost his balance.

"Hey!" Zim yelled. The kid didn't stop so Zim swiped his feet out from under him. The kid fell gracelessly to the ground on his front but was up again in a snap, this time climbing up Zim's body to get his coat. "What the?!" Zim uttered. He threw the kid down, pinning him with his foot. "STOP!" He yelled. The kid stopped struggling, breathing hard and scowling at the adult.

"Gimme my coat." He said fearlessly.

"You're like a wild animal." Zim remarked, smiling energetically.

"Gimme my fucking coat!" The boy repeated.

"What does 'fucking' mean?" Zim asked, unfamiliar with the word.

"It means you're a douchebag, I want my coat back now!"

"What's your name?" Zim countered.

"What's wrong with your face?" The boy returned. "Let me go!"

"You're very bold, little one." Zim snickered. "I like you." Zim removed his foot and dropped the coat on the boy's face.

A few minutes passed and the boy did not move "Dib." He muttered from beneath the coat. "My name . . . is Dib."

"Dib." Zim repeated, proud of his accomplishment: he had learned his adversary's name.

"I am Irken – we all have green skin." Zim answered his question in return.

Zim didn't chase after Dib when he got up and ran off down the street. In fact, he waved at him but Dib didn't turn back to see it.