There's a line that Ron speaks from Kim Possible, So The Drama: "You kissed a synthodrone!"

And there's a fic by the same name, You Kissed A Synthodrone?, story i.d.2405292 , by Backsides, that explores the A.U. sitch of both a "Kim" synthodrone as well as an "Erik" synthodrone. It's a classic story of mistaken identity, much like Shakespeare's plays, The Comedy of Errors, Twelfth Night, etc.

There's an A.U. story by my man MrDrP about there being a real Erik, whom Dr. Drakken has abducted and replaced with his synthodrone replica, story i.d. 3038776.

I've been inspired to continue in that vein. You'll get the idea.

My choice for Mrs. Dr. P.'s unmarried name? I wanted a last name for her that was a play on words, like Kim's last name, or Ron's. I wanted a last name that reflected her status as a medical professional. In a story I posted at dA, I chose the name "Hospiceable". At the particular moment I am writing this, that name sounds very lame. So I picked another name, a variation. It's drawn from the real-life European military order of knighthood that, during the Middle Ages, tried to keep the Christian pilgrims safe as they made their way to the Holy Land. The Knights Hospitaller. We get our words "hospital" and "hospitality" from the name.

"Ann Joan Hospitable"--"Hospiceable"--"Hospitaller". None of them quite roll off the tongue. It's a work in progress.

Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P., Officer Hobble, Dr. Drakken, Shego, Bueno Nacho, Erik, the Diabloes, the henchmen, the synthodrones, Kim, Ron, the Tweabs, the Moodulator Chip, and the sub-orbital cruiser are from the K.P. show, created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley.

Sgt. Smith, Deputy Kellers, and Erik's last name of "Drake" are my creation.

On with the show.

YOU LOVED A SYNTHODRONE

chpt. 1

AWAKENING

Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P., and the Tweebs gathered up the wood, plaster, and glass scraps left when the two Enlarged Diabloes crashed through the front of their home.

"And so thanks to teen hero Kim Possible, the worldwide Diablo destruction is itself disabled"

And for the umpteenth time that night, the Tweebs high-fived each other.

"Hushu!"

"HIckaboo!"

"Possibles rock--!"

"--They cleaned Drakken's clock!"

"Team Possible rules--!"

"--And Doc Drakken drools!"

Mr. Dr. P. flopped wearily on the sofa. He patted the seat beside him. "Dear--sit down. It's been a long night!"

"In a minute," Mrs. Dr. P. said. "Boys! Time for bed!"

Their faces fell. "Aw, Mom!"

"We were hoping--"

"--We could stay up--"

"--Until Ron--"

"--Brought Kim home!"

"Boys," said Mr. Dr. P. rather sharply, "You see Kim and Ron together all the time!"

"Yeah, but now--"

"--It's different!"

"They're--"

"--Dating!"

"She'll be all like lovey dovey and weird--"

"--Like when she had the Moodulator chip!"

"And Ron'll be all like--"

"--Even goofier than usual!"

Mr. Dr. P. grimaced. Kimmie-cub--dating! "All the more reason to turn in early! I don't want you two prematurely exposed to mature influences!"

"But--"

"--Dad!"

"We were hoping that--"

"--the help we did--"

"--upgrading Ron's scooter--"

"--would rate a reward--"

"--like a later bedtime!"

He looked sterner. "You're lucky I don't ground you for that little thing with the missing J-200 rocket fuel! Although," and the stern look softened, "I think we can see our way to letting you stay up Saturday night for the "Flying Bricks of Fury" marathon on the movie channel."

The boys looked at each other. "Your offer--"

"--rocks, Dad."

"We're al-"

"-ready asleep!"

Besides," said Mrs. Dr. P. slyly, "Do you want to be exposed to all those romance cooties?"

The boys turned pale.

"Good--"

"--point!"

And they made themselves scarce.

Mrs. Dr. P. finally sat next to her husband. "And Dr. Possible--what's this reluctance with Kimmie's involvement with Ron? If I recall, you were 'down with Erik' just a few hours ago."

Mr. Dr. P. fidgeted. "You make a good point, dear. It's just that--there's going to be no preliminary 'getting acquainted' period. These two are going to bypass all that and go straight to the--you know--the heavy petting!"

Mrs. Dr. P. laughed lightly. "You're so cute with you sound antiquated!" She ruffled his hair and kissed him on the cheek. "I think we can safely assume Ron's firmly committed to Kimmie's virtue--even without your threat to exile him to the 'Black Hole Deep'."

"Ann--I'll minimize my emphasis on the Black Hole Deep if we can get Kimmie to minimize her wearing of the Little Black Dress--or maybe even the crop top."

Mrs. Dr. P. stood and pulled on her husband's arm. "Come on, Jim. I'll minimize what I'm wearing--a night gown--a Little Black Dress--or a crop top--or less--under my lab coat.

Mr. Dr. P. turned every shade of red. "Ann! What if the twins overheard?"

Mrs. Dr. P. only winked and sauntered to their bedroom.

And with the speed of one of his rockets, her husband followed.

Some time later, perhaps midnight, they heard the front door open. They heard Kim's voice. "G'night, Ron."

They heard Ron's voice. "Sweet dreams, K.P."

And Kim's voice. "Only about you, Ron-dog." And the sound of Kim blowing a kiss.

And Ron's voice. "Boo-Yah!"

And Kim's voice. "Ron! Shhh! My folks!"

And a whispered "Boo-Yah!"

And a giggle, followed by a whispered "G'night, you goofball."

As Kim tiptoed up to her loft, she heard, "Kimmie?"

"Oops. Sorry, Mom. Too loud?"

"No. How was your night?"

"Are you both awake?"

"Your mother's having her way with me," whispered Mr. Dr. P.

His wife nudged him. "Jim!" she whispered.

Kim smiled and rolled her eyes. OMG! Well, why not? It's that kinda night. "I had a fantastic time--and I won't bother you two. And thanks, Daddy, for letting me miss curfew."

Mrs. Dr. P. nudged her husband again.

"Uh--we trust you, Kimmie-Cub." He looked at his wife with silent appeal.

His wife nudged him yet again.

"Uh--consider curfew a thing of the past. Your mother and I feel you've outgrown it."

Kim pumped the air with her fist. Yes! You rock, Mom! "Thanks, you guys. You're the best. G'night."

Mr. Dr. P. sighed. "There. I'm letting her spread her wings--as you insisted.

Mrs. Dr. P. pillowed her head on his shoulder. "Kimmie's right, dear. You are the best."

Mr. Dr. P. shrugged, smiled, and kissed his wife.

It seemed to Mrs. Dr. P. that she had been asleep only a moment. She dimly heard her pager. The call tones were from Say The Word, Kim's song from the high school talent show. Groan. Something's up at the hospital. Actually, considering the Diablo rampage, she had expected to be paged before this. She reached for the phone that was on her nightstand. It was on her side of the bed--usually she had to use the phone in the wee hours. She called the number her pager displayed. "Mmm--umm--hello. Dr. Possible speaking."

Mr. Dr. P. stirred. "Oh, Ann." He turned to face her. "Of all nights." He was used to this too, but still--after all the excitement--

She held up her finger for silence.

The voice speaking to her was not unknown to her. "Dr. Possible, This is Lieut. Thomas Hobble of the County Sheriff's Department."

Mrs. Dr. P. sat up in bed. County Sheriff? "Yes, Lieut. Hobble."

"Dr. Possible, I'm calling from the Bueno Nacho Headquarters. I apologies for this most inopportune call at this time, but something's come up--something that I need expert help on."

Mr. Dr. P. silently mouthed the name. Lieut. Hobble? And at the same time, his pager sounded. His call tones were from the Naked Mole Rap, Ron's song from the high school talent show.

Very puzzling. Why would I get a call this hour of the night? "Hello? This Dr. Possible, answering your page."

The voice speaking to Jim Possible was not known to him. "Dr. Possible, this is Sgt. Michael Smith of the Middleton Police Department. I'm very sorry, sir, to be calling you. I'm calling at the request of my colleague, Officer Thomas Hobble of the Sheriff's office. He should be trying to reach your wife about now."

Mr. Dr. P. sat up in bed. "Yes, Sgt. Smith. I believe she's conversing with him at this very moment."

They stared at each other.

"I got paged by the Sheriff's Department," she said.

"Police Department here," he said.

Lieut. Hobble spoke. "Dr. Possible, is it feasible to put me on speakerphone? What I have to say is for you both. But if you think I might wake up the rest of the household, I can speak to you both over each phone."

"Lieut. Hobble, we'll both listen in on this receiver," said Mrs. Dr. P.

"Sgt. Smith, I'll be hanging up and speaking with Lieut. Hobble on the other line," said Mr. Dr. P.

"Yes, sir," said Sgt. Smith.

"Go ahead, Lieut. Hobble," said Ann Possible.

"Dr. Possible--and Dr. Possible--as I said, I'm with a crime scene investigation crew at the Bueno Nacho World Headquarters. I'm the officer in charge--and it just happens to be in my jurisdiction. We were conducting routine procedure after your daughter and her partner cleaned house--as you are no doubt well aware, and I found something--." He was silent for a moment.

They listened patiently--and grew worried. "Lieut. Hobble?" asked Mrs. Dr. P. "Is it something medical? Something you're reluctant to tell me over the phone?"

Lieut. Hobble sighed. "Dr. Possible, this confirms all the reasons I had for calling you. You're two steps ahead of me. I took the liberty of sending a car. It should be there in about fifteen minutes. If you two would come out, I would be in your debt. But--." And he was silent again.

"You were about to say, Lieutenant," said Mr. Dr. P. "If you're worried, you can trust our discretion--and our courage."

"Sir--Ma'am--I've got to warn you both. This will probably mean my job. It could cost you both your careers. It might mean my freedom. But if the Fed's or Global Justice get their hands on this, it'll be like it never existed. And this is too important. At the risk of sounding dramatic, it concerns your daughter, this city, your family, this country--all that you and I hold dear. In fact, I urge you as strongly to have nothing to do with my request as I do to implore your help. Once you commit to this, I'm afraid there's no backing out. It might already be too late."

Mr. Dr. P. spoke up boldly. "Lieut. Hobble--for generations, my family has served the cause for justice and humanity, and the advancement of truth. From the time of Zim Possible, my great-great--."

Mrs. Dr. P. put a finger on her lips. "Yes, dear. What my husband is saying, Lieut. Hobble is what we've always taught our daughter--that anything is possible for a Possible. And like our daughter, we mean to do what's right, and we won't be deterred by any threat of harm."

"Yes, Ma'am. It's folks like you that make me proud to be a public servant. And one more thing."

"Yes, Lieut. Hobble?"

"If you two can bring any of your medical or scientific equipment, you should do so. You're going to need it. And if you could be at the curb when the car I sent comes, it would help. And--I hate to sound so mysterious--ask them to confirm that it's from me."

"Like asking for a code word? What do you suggest?"

"That's the trouble. I've no assurance that we're not being listening to even now. You'll have to think on your feet. Ask the driver something the public doesn't know that I might, having met your daughter on several occasions."

Mrs. Dr. P. brightened. "I've got it! Lieut. Hobble, we'll see you soon!"

"Yes, Ma'am. Looking forward. Good-bye."

Each started to dress hurriedly--and looked at each other with some amusement. Each was putting on the cargo pant and black pullover outfit he and she had worn on the Christmas Eve mission when entire family--parents, twin boys, and even Nana, had followed Kim's trail searching for Ron.

Mr. Dr. P. shrugged. "Great minds think alike."

Mrs. Dr. P. thought a moment. "We had the use of the Space Center's new sub-orbital cruiser that night."

"Sort of like Santa's sleigh," said Mr. Dr. P. "We had to cover a lot of global ground that night. I've been thinking about it myself--with our obvious need for haste."

"And?"

"I think that what Lieut. Hobble feels is the need for secrecy might be the more expedient need."

Mrs. Dr. P. nodded. "I'll go with your assessment, dear."

Mrs. Dr. P. got a medical bag and started packing a few items. Mr. Dr. P. gathered his laptop computer, PDA, and some diagnostic instrumentation.

Mrs. Dr. P. snapped her fingers. "Jim! I've thought of something." She picked up the phone and dialed a number.

Mr. Dr. P. looked puzzled. "At this time of night? Who are you are calling?"

Mrs. Dr. P. winked. She dialed a number on the phone. "Hello, Wade? Good. I thought I might find you awake. Yes, this is Kim's mom. Could you send me a Kimmunicator by your usual means? No, Kim's isn't damaged--but I need one fairly urgently. God only knows how much technology you've been able to stuff into that little unit, and I've encountered a--um--sitch that calls for scientific instrumentation of the highest caliber. I don't want to leave Kim without one, and I don't want to wake her. The poor dear has had quite a week. Five minutes? Wonderful! Wade Load, you rock. And tell your mother to give you a kiss for me. No, Wade, I don't mean to embarrass you. Consider it a motherly kiss. Thank you, Wade. And will you be available if I need you for the next few hours? I think I can operate it, but I might need some technological support. Thank you, Wade. Good-night."

Mr. Dr. P. looked inquisitive--and then nodded. "Excellent foresight, my dear."

She was writing a hasty note. Mr. Dr. P. read it over her shoulder.

Dear Kimmie, Tim, & Jim,

Your mother was called away on a medical emergency involving the Diablo attack. Your father went along just in case they needed any other scientific expertise. We each have our cell phones, if you need to get in touch. Boys, be considerate of your sister. Don't torment her about her new beau. Kim, don't maim your brothers. If the contractor comes by to start to fix the damage to the house, be helpful. Will see you tonight.

Love you all, Mom and Dad.

"Should I add anything?" she asked.

"Well--perhaps a line or two about Kimmie behaving properly regarding any--ahem--public show of affection with Ron--"

Mrs. Dr. P. looked narrowly at her husband.

And he relented. "No, dear. Excellent choice of wording. I wouldn't add a syllable."

They snuck a glance into each bedroom. Kim was snuggled with Panda-roo.

The boys restless and each had thrown his covers off. Mother covered Jim up, and father pulled the covers back over Tim.

Mrs. Dr. P. stuck the note to the refrigerator door with a magnet.

They quietly left the house and waited by the curb.

"Penny for your thoughts, Ann," said Mr. Dr. P.

She looked up at him. "I just love our children to pieces. If anything should happen to us, I just hope they would have the strength to go on--" And the words stuck in her throat. "Jim--I'm being too pessimistic, aren't I?"

He thought a moment. "Since you ask, Ann, I would say that you're only expressing a proper parental concern. We don't know what we're wanted for--but if Lieut. Hobble wants each of us, then it must be something very important. And he expressed a concern for potential problems." He thought some more. "Mother used to tell me that when she was a member of the OSS during the war, the thought was always with her that when she went out on a mission, she might not come back. Our society has grown a little kinder than that time in some ways, and a little harsher in other ways. We take it for granted that Kimmie and Ron will always survive the death traps their enemies will set for them. But--." His gaze into his wife's eyes became wistful. "--We're each only mortal. There's no assurance that any of us will see tomorrow."

They embraced. "I love you, James Timothy Possible," said Ann, and kissed him.

"And I love you, Ann Joan Hospitaller."

Carrying their supplies, they closed the front door of their house behind them.

A parcel carrier truck pulled up to the curb.

"That must be the new Kimmunicator," mused Mr. Dr. P.

"Top of the morning, Doctors Possible," said the driver cordially. "Figured I'd meet your daughter."

"We'll take it, Joe." They knew him by sight by now. Any hour of day or night, any season of year, they might see him at the house, delivering new devices from Wade Load to put in Kim's backpack, or Kim's loft. Or he might go to Middleton High School, to drop off his parcels to Kim's locker--but that is another story.

"Wade certainly knew when he starting contracting your services, Joe. You're more dependable than the paper boy," said Mr. Dr. P. appreciatively.

Joe shrugged. "Pshaw, Dr. Possible. Your daughter saved my bacon when them young hoodlums tried to hijack me 'n' my wagon here. If I did nothing but carry Mr. Load's stuff 'til they bury me at the wheel here, I figure I came out ahead in the bargain."

A county sheriff's car pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down. "Dr. Possible? And Dr. Possible?"

Mr. Dr. P. nodded. "We're both here."

"Morning, folks. I'm Deputy Sheriff Carl Keller. Lieut. Hobble sent me to pick you folks up.

It's a shame Kimmie isn't awake, Deputy Keller," said Mrs. Dr. P. "She hasn't seen you or Officer Hobble since that adventure at Camp WannaWeep."

Deputy Keller looked at Mrs. Dr. P. strangely. "Ma'am, I'm afraid you're mistaken. Lieut. Hobble himself was telling me earlier--he and your daughter met again just last year--when she rescued that singing group--the OBoyz. And I joined the force since then. I've never had the pleasure of meeting your daughter, Ma'am."

Mrs. Dr. P. smiled. "Thank you, Deputy. You've passed my little test."

Deputy Keller laughed. "Lieut. Hobble told me to expect to be questioned by you to confirm my authenticity. If I may say so, you've got the saavy of veteren law enforcement officer."

"Thank you, Deputy," said Mrs. Dr. P.

And they piled in the Deputy's car.

"Deputy Keller, can you tell us exactly what the situation is?" asked Mr. Dr. P.

They could see Deputy Keller's grimace in the rear view mirror. "Frankly, folks, it's a little beyond my ability to quite explain. I hope you'll pardon my evasiveness. I trust Officer Hobble's judgment. I think you will, too."

They made small talk on the ride out to Bueno Nacho World Headquarters, but for the most part, they proceeded in silence.

The hundred mile ride took about seventy minutes. When they pulled into the plaza, there were only two other cars--a Middleton P.D. car and a county sheriff's car.

Lieut. Hobble greeted them. "I appreciate you two coming out here at this ungodly hour. And if you'll follow me, I try and explain my dilemma."

Mr. Dr. P. pointed to a heap of twisted metal framework and melted slag. "is that the transmission tower, Lieut. Hobble?"

Lieut. Hobble nodded. "Yes, sir. That's what transmitted the command signal that activated those damnable robots. Your daughter and her partner deactivated the signal, and the damage you see resulted when one of Shego's blasts went awry."

Mr. Dr. P. whistled. They followed him into the building. The front facade was marred by a huge gaping hole. Lieut. Hobble pointed up to it. "Caused by another of Shego's blasts. That's one plucky girl you two have, to deal with an opponent who can do that kind of damage."

Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P. only nodded.

As Lieut. Hobble led them deep into the confines of the building, he proceeded to relate his tale. "When Dr. Drakken bought out the entire Bueno Nacho company, he was working through a dummy corporation run by one Justine Hench. Her brother Jack deals in contraband technology. He's the one who keeps your daughter's opponents stocked with lethal and illegally acquired technology. You've heard the expression 'thick as thieves'? That pretty much describes this family. We plan on round them both up shortly. But that's not why we're here."

They continued through the network of corridors. Lieut. Hobble continued his story. "Drakken and his crew pretty much took a corporate office building and turned it into one of his secret lairs, complete with living quarters for his goons, arsenal, numerous laboratories for the development of weapons and mutated life-forms. If I had my way, that twisted specimen of humanity would never leave a solitary confinement unit or get his hands on anything but a daily loaf of bread and jug of water for the rest of his life."

Mr. Dr. P. looked about nervously.

"Dear?" asked Mrs. Dr. P. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm just having a flashback, Ann. The last time I was in one of Drew Lipsky's lairs, he tried to feed me to one of those mutated life-forms."

She put an arm around his shoulder and drew him close as they walked. "Thank God for Kimmie."

"Amen," said Lieut. Hobble. "We're almost there. And I called you both for these reasons. I follow Team Possible's missions pretty closely, both through the official police reports and the mission log at your daughter's website. As you no doubt are aware by now, the giant machines that those damnable little Diablo toys grew into were constructing using your Haepastus technology, Dr. Possible," he said, looking at Mr. Dr. P. "And he very nearly put your daughter out of action by deploying one of his own men--this Erik Drake--posing as a Middleton High School student--or should I say androids--"

"--Synthodrones," corrected Mrs. Dr. P. "Yes, we heard the story."

"--Whatever you want to call those unholy imitations of humanity," grumbled Luit. Hobble. "But it wasn't until we carted him and his whole pathetic gang off to jail that Sgt. Smith discovered something--something that I thought required both scientific and medical expertise. Something that every covert governmental agency in the world would love to get its hands on." They halted before a door and he stopped. "If you folks want to back out, now is the time to do it. Once I open this door, you'll be as culpable as I am. I've been a lawman all my life, and I know how the directors of law enforcement agencies think. They like to imagine that they're above the common humanity. They like to make decisions that they think will help. But I'm just a common man, bound by my oath to serve and protect the public--and that includes all people--and all I have to guide me is my sense of decency, morality, and ethics.

Mr. Dr. P. asked. "Lieut. Hobble, my daughter was a little hesitant to discuss Erik Drake. What happened to him?"

"Near as we can tell, he--it--was caught in the collapse of the transmission tower. Good riddance, if you ask me." Luit. Hobble knocked on the door. "Smith? We're here!"

The door opened. A plainclothes officer was there. "Sgt. Smith, folks. At your service." He stood aside to reveal someone--a young man dressed in red coveralls such as a Team Drakken henchman might wear--minus the hood.

Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P. stared.

Erik stood up and nervously waved. "H-hi, Dr. Possible--Dr. Possible. I woke up just a few hours ago. They said you would be coming out to see me."

Luit. Hobble announced dourly. "I'd like you two to meet Dr. Drakken's last project--incorporating the Haephastus technology. The updated Erik Drake."

to be continued