Disclaimer: I don't own Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable or any associated characters.
Prologue
"So," He said, rubbing the fabric of her shirt between his fore finger and thumb, "You make this yourself?"
"Not quite," She replied shyly, her eyes trained firmly on the space behind his left arm, "I don't know how to sew, so I got my mum to do it for me," She slowly raised her eyes to meet his, "But I designed it."
"It's nice, I like it."
"It's not very often I hear that," She laughed slightly, her cheeks reddening
"That's nonsense, I wish I owned half of the clothes I see you wearing."
"Well, yeah," She smiled awkwardly, desperately scanning her brain for something to say.
"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't -" He began
"If you like-" She interrupted him, suddenly stopping herself and wondering why she had begun at all, "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"
"I didn't introduce myself," He continued at length
"Heh, I know who you are." Her heart was now racing a mile a minuet and she still couldn't quite figure out why.
"Oh, what were you going to say?"
"Oh, well, I was going to say I could make something for you, but never mind."
"You'd do that?" He finally released her shirt material from his fingers, all the time wondering why she was so nervous
"If you'd like, I've never had a chance to design anything for guys, you know, 'cause I'm a girl."
"Yeah I spotted that," She blushed again and lowered her eyes, "But you'd really do that for me?"
"O-of course,"
"Well, when can we start?"
"Um, whenever you like."
"Great," He snatched the black pen which she had been clenching with white knuckles and began writing his phone number on the back of her icy cold hand. He noticed she was shaking slightly. Once he had finished he forced the pen into her hand and held his out, beckoning her to repeat his actions. She complied quietly and once she had finished she awkwardly said goodbye and began walking away.
"Ron!" Ron only slightly inclined his head toward the shout, knowing all too well the voice which shouted. He watched as his new 'friend' rounded a corner and vanished before turning around fully to face his best (and arguably only) friend, Kim Possible.
"Ron I've been looking everywhere for you," Kim panted, her cheeks red and her brow sweaty from exertion.
"You have?" Ron said uninterestedly, stretching his neck around and checking the empty hall behind him once more
"Yes." Kim replied exasperated, brushing a few strands of sweaty red hair out of her eyes with minor disgust, "I just talked to Wade, and there's been some bizarre activity in one of the oil rigs just off the coast of California"
"How bizarre are we talking?"
"Bizarre enough for me to get suspicious. Drakken had been quiet the last couple of months, too quiet if you ask me." Kim began chewing on her lower lip, brining her hand up to scratch her head. Her hand recoiled suddenly in disgust and for a moment she looked stunned. She then proceeded to ruffle her hair out vigorously before hastily tying it up in a very messy ponytail.
"Kim, Drakken is still in prison," Ron said slowly, watching as she fussed over the state of her head
"He may be, but Shego isn't." Kim replied momentarily forgetting about her hair.
"Are you kidding, she couldn't carry out the garbage let alone a mastermind plot. If you're worrying about Shego this much I'd have to say you're losing your touch."
"Ron," Kim snapped irritatedly, "I am not losing my touch. I know Shego couldn't organise anything on her own, but I'm almost certain she'd have help."
"She'd need a whole army to help her." Ron muttered
"Anyway I want to look into it, I don't want this to get blown out of proportion. I'd rather stop it now before it can get any worse."
"Kim unless you haven't noticed we still have half a day of school left. Anyway, how are we supposed to get to California? It's not like we can just road trip our way there and back right now."
"Then we'll have to wait till the weekend."
"Great, a weekend full of camping fun and world saving."
"Ron," Kim muttered shaking her head slightly, "It wont be that bad. Plus, we can go to the beach."
"Yay," Ron said half-heartedly waving his hands around
Kim grabbed one of his wrists tightly and bent his arm around to read the writing on his hand.
"Ow Kim you're breaking my arm!" Ron shouted, attempting to break her grip, but she held on
"Elveena1? Who's Elveena? And why is her phone number on your hand?" Ron desperately twisted his arm out of her grip
"That's none of your business," He pouted, rubbing his arm gently
"Ooh are you going on a date?" Kim asked, raising her eyebrows slyly and nudging Ron in the ribs
"No, it's nothing like that." Ron argued, blushing through his freckles
"You're blushing," Kim pointed out cheekily, "It is a date isn't it."
"No, she's going to design some clothes for me." Ron explained quickly
"Design clothes?" Kim stared at him for a moment, before her eyes opened wide with surprise, "Ooh it's not that weird girl is it?" Ron was silent, "It is her! Ron I didn't know she was your type, but I should have guessed."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, it's a compliment. Sure, she's a bit strange but she seems harmless enough."
"And how does that make her my 'type?" Ron asked suspiciously
"Well, you know..." Kim trailed off stopping before the girls bathroom, "I've gotta go fix my hair up, I have cheerleading practise. I'll see you later"
And she was gone behind the bathroom door before Ron got a chance to question her further, or her him. He contemplated following her in, just to annoy her, but thought better of it. There was a sacred code to the segregation of the bathrooms which was unbreakable no matter what the situation. It just wasn't right. Defeated, Ron shrugged and began making his way toward the lunchroom.
Meanwhile, somewhere off the coast of Southern California.
"Phase one of operation sky high is go," A suspicious figured, dressed in a scuba diving suit whispered into a walk talkie. It wasn't often people used the back entrance to this particular rig, which was exactly why Henry was stuck down here most of his shift. It was a well known fact among his fellow security guards their boss had it in for him, ever since their kids went head to head in the regional spelling bee, and Henry's kid came out on top. It was trivial, yet the boss had taken it all rather seriously. He was paid minimum wage and worked minimum hours in the most boring and run down sector of the off coast oil rig. Therefore when he saw the scuba clad stranger, dripping water and another milky substance Henry couldn't quite identify it was quite hard to imagine he hadn't lost his mind.
"What are you doing down here?" He questioned the figure, catching it's attention.
For a moment the scuba person stood quite still, like a deer caught in the headlights of a semitrailer. Then, before Henry had time to even grab his baton and flashlight the stranger had spanned the gap between them in a fluent back flip, despite it's awkward flippers and impairing goggles, and stood only two inches from Him.
"Who are you? What are you doing down here?" Henry asked, suspicion creeping up on him, as well as his nerves. A year or two of working a dead shift shot his confidence and skills, it had been too long since he had confronted anyone, and this most unexpected stranger was no exception.
The stranger didn't reply, but Henry could hear their soft mechanical panting behind the scuba mask. In that moment a flash of warning, like lightning but quicker, hit Henry and he wished he had never taught his kid to read. Before he had a chance to back away the scuba diver rained a hail of powerful kicks to his most vulnerable spots. When the assault stopped Henry found himself lying on the cold metal grate, staring up at the emotionless scuba mask. He was met once more with a cold, damp fist to the face, which made his senses flare and his head swim.
"You said there was no security in the lower levels." Behind a pain filled haze, Henry heard a distinctly female voice talking hurriedly. It took longer than usual for him to remember why he was lying on the ground, or why his body was wracked with pain. When his eyes finally managed to focus, he spotted the all too familiar Scuba diver, speaking desperately into the recognisable walkie talkie.
"There are no records of security guards in that area." The walkie talkie replied.
So the boss had even taken him off the company record? Henry had to quit this job it did nothing for him
"But there is, I just beat him up." The scuba diver said, glancing over at Henry.
He hastily clamped his eyes shut hoping the stranger would become provoked.
"Is he out?"
"I think so, but what should I do with him? If I just leave him he'll alert security as soon as he comes around."
"Kill him."
Henry's heart froze in his chest. It couldn't be true, he couldn't die in this god forsaken dump. He wouldn't give his boss the satisfaction. He had to take action. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Carefully he reached for his baton, each second keeping his eyes locked firmly on the scuba girl.
"I can't kill him, I'm not a murderer."
"Then tie him up. I don't care what you do with him just get him out of the way. You have twenty minuets to wire it up and get the hell out of there."
So she wasn't going to kill him, that didn't mean he couldn't act. It was, after all, his job to stop hooligans like this girl. In one fluid motion Henry grabbed his baton, jumped to his feet and began charging the girl. She, however, caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye and, before he could get in striking range of her, kicked her leg out and knocked him in the chin. He fell, stunned, to the ground, finally succumbing to the oblivion that was unconsciousness.
"What was that?"
"He attacked me, but I think he's out cold now.
"Well you better check to make sure, bound and gag him and put him somewhere where he wont be found all right. I don't want any hitches, this must be flawless."
"Okay, over and out."
1Elveena- pronounced Al-vee-na