STANDARD DISCLAIMER:The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series Kim Possible are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask).
A/N: I'm back! It's been a long time coming, but finally we have the beginning of a brand-new, multi-chapter story in my TAY universe. Not much to say just yet concerning this story, other than I hope those that read this enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it; it's definitely a labor of love, no question about that. For those that are stumbling on this story and haven't yet read TAY, I would highly recommend stopping here and reading it first; there will be references in this story that might not make sense without having read it.
I would also like to take this opportunity to thank all those that have read, reviewed and/or favorited TAY ever since I posted the last chapter and put it to bed. You are one of the main reasons that I was able to finish that story when so many others have died and I greatly appreciate each and every one of you taking the time to let me know you enjoyed my work.
On that note, I give you the prologue of Summer of Reckoning. Enjoy!
SUMMER OF RECKONING
PROLOGUE
"I know this is all well-documented, but I still have a hard time believing that anybody can be completely healed from a gunshot wound in a week," the physician said as he signed the insurance forms with a wry grin.
"What can I say? I'm unique," Kate Gogh replied as she affixed her own signature. "Anything else I need to sign before I leave?"
"That should be everything we need, Miss Gogh," the nurse at the administration desk said with a smile. "We'll contact you if we've forgotten anything, but I'm pretty sure everything's taken care of."
"Perfect," the former villainess said as she picked up her purse. "Don't take this personally, but I really hope we don't do this again anytime soon."
"Trust me, I know exactly what you mean," the doctor chuckled as the nurse sorted away the last of the paperwork. "Here's your copy; have a good day, Miss Gogh."
"Any day I get to leave the hospital without shackles and ceramic mittens is a good day," she quipped as she turned and strode away from the desk, not bothering to acknowledge the confused expression on their faces at her statement.
She'd barely made it ten feet from the desk, however, when a familiar face turned the corner; a broad smile crossing the willowy redhead's features when she saw the reformed mercenary. "Kimmie said you were in for a follow-up today," she said. "How'd it go?"
"Clean bill of health from the attending surgeon right here," Kate replied, her expression mirroring the neurosurgeon's as she held up the forms.
"Kim will be glad to know it," Anne Possible said as she fell into step beside her daughter's former nemesis. "Listen, if you're not in any rush to go anywhere, I've got a few minutes; why don't we go sit and talk in the coffee shop?"
Kate shrugged indifferently. "Sure; I've got nowhere to be right away," she replied as they crossed the lobby to the small coffee shop that occupied a corner. They went to the counter and ordered their beverages—a latte for Kate and a dark Colombian roast for Anne—and took a table next to the windows.
Once they were comfortable, the redheaded neurosurgeon picked up the conversation again. "So do you have any plans on what you're gonna do now that you're free and clear?" she asked as she removed the lid from her Styrofoam cup.
"Well, I'm already working on getting a car and place of my own," Kate replied after sampling her latte. "No friggin' way I'm gonna depend on Global Justice any longer than I have to. "
"Anything planned beyond that yet?"
"Well, once I get settled in a bit, I'm probably just gonna take a little time and relax," the former villainess said, staring into her cup, "use that downtime to think about how I want to make an honest living."
"Considering how tumultuous the last week or two have been for you, I can't say I blame you a whole lot."
Kate nodded with a wry grin, but didn't respond immediately to Anne's statement; opting instead to take a long drink of the frothy beverage in front of her. Finally, after a few moments of quiet reflection, she spoke in a tentative voice. "Why does everybody trust me all of a sudden?"
"Sorry?" Anne said, leaning closer to the young woman in front of her.
"I don't understand why, after everything I've done and all the people I've hurt—Kim especially—that, all of a sudden, everybody trusts me and believes that I really do want to go straight," the former villainess replied with a sigh. "I mean, over the past few years I haven't exactly done anything to endear myself to anybody; but when I talked to Kim at her graduation and told her I wanted to go straight, she believed me right from the start, based solely on my word. What did I ever do to make her—or anybody else for that matter—believe that my word was worth anything?"
Kim's mother took a moment to absorb what her daughter's former foe and current friend had just said before attempting to respond. "I can't say for sure what made everybody believe you at first—personally, I was satisfied that Kim trusted you—but over the last few days you've proven your intentions beyond any shadow of a doubt; the way you helped Kim and Ron catch Drakken without hesitation just reinforced that.
"Kim told me about the discussion you two had the day after she and Ron went to Lowerton," the neurosurgeon continued, shifting in her seat, "and the reasons you gave her for getting into villainy in the first place. I can't exactly say I would agree with your reasoning, but I do understand it… and the reasons you decided the time was right to get out.
"I'm a neurosurgeon, not a psychologist, Kate, so keep that in mind when I say what I'm going to say next: I think that, after having experienced having a real friend in Kim when you were under the influence of that Reverse Polarizer or whatever it was called, your subconscious started questioning your decision to adopt a life of crime. Over time, those thoughts bled into your conscious mind and made you realize that you could probably have a better—and happier—life on the level. I think Kim saw that, too, which is why she chose to believe you and believe in you. I also think that's how and why you were able to convince everybody before you proved yourself."
Kate nodded with a wan smile on her face as she traced the rim of her cup with her finger. "I'm just glad this all worked out in the end," she finally said, barely above a whisper. "It took getting shot again, but that's a small price to pay if it means a second chance."
"If anybody ever expresses any more doubt about your sincerity, that statement right there should prove your intentions once and for all," Anne said, gripping Kate's hand and squeezing it encouragingly. "Anybody that's willing to take a potentially lethal gunshot wound to prove their intentions is obviously sincere."
"One would think so, anyway," Kate said with a wry chuckle. Looking at her watch, the mint-skinned woman slipped out of her seat. "I should probably get going; I told Kim I'd meet up with her when she got off work and we'd hang out for a bit."
Anne nodded knowingly. "Yeah, that's probably a good thing; with school out and no missions on the horizon, Kimmie gets kinda bored when she's off and Ron's working."
"I bet," the raven-haired vixen laughed as she drained her coffee cup and picked up her purse again. "Listen, sorry I had to dump on you there; guess it was on my chest and I had to get it out."
"Kate, everybody needs somebody to talk to once in awhile," the neurosurgeon replied, placing a comforting hand on the younger woman's shoulder, "and while it's great that you and Kim are getting closer and have put your past behind you, sometimes you need to talk to somebody that's a little more removed… like your best friend's mother."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," the reformed mercenary said with a grateful smile. "Thanks for listening, Doc."
"Anytime," Anne replied, "and… Kate?"
"Yeah…?"
"If Ron can call me Anne, then so can you," the willowy redhead said with a warm grin before turning to walk away, leaving the younger woman with that last thought.
Kate watched the as the older woman's form receded, blinking a couple of times as the redhead's last statement sunk in. Finally, with a bemused smirk, the jade-hued woman strode out of the hospital, dropping her empty cup in a trash can on her way by.
Half an hour later found the former villainess strolling nonchalantly through the entrance to Club Banana, where she immediately spied Kim carrying on an animated conversation with a customer as she rang up the younger teen's purchases. Rather than interrupt, Kate wandered through the store and browsed some of the merchandise while she waited for Kim to finish.
"Hey Kate," the redhead said as she approached the older woman, "how you feeling today?"
"Better, now that I'm done with that damned hospital," Kate replied dryly as they exited the retailer. "I swear that place sucks the life out of anybody that's in there for any amount of time."
"I don't know about that; they're in the business of saving lives, not draining them."
"If you say so," Kate said dubiously as they pushed through the doors to the parking lot.
Chuckling at her friend's obvious disdain for the medic al profession, Kim just shook her head as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "So what did you want to do? I've got nothing set in stone," she said as she started digging in her purse for her keys.
"Actually, I do have an idea; let's take my car and leave yours here."
"Makes sense, I guess," Kim said as she dropped her keys back into her purse and followed her former nemesis to her borrowed Crown Victoria—conveniently parked beside the teen heroine's outlandishly-painted and heavily-modified Roth SL Coupe. Kim detoured long enough to put her purse in the trunk of the Sloth before climbing into the front passenger seat of the unmarked government car. "So where are we going?"
"Shopping," the raven-haired vixen replied with a smirk as she started the big Ford's V8 engine.
"For what?"
"That, you'll just have to wait and see."
"But I hate surprises," Kim lamented, crossing her arms over her chest. "Can't you at least give me a hint?"
"Not telling and your Puppy-Dog Pout won't change my mind," Kate said as she adjusted her sunglasses over her eyes. "You're just gonna have to wait."
"Fine," the redhead huffed melodramatically as she slouched in her seat and stared forward. Precisely two minutes later, her composure broke in the form of a loud snort as she started laughing. "Apparently trying to be the snotty brat isn't my forte," she giggled.
"Wasn't buying it for a second," Kate replied as she navigated the light mid-afternoon traffic. "'Bratty' is not a word I would use to describe you in any way, shape or form; it doesn't fit you at all."
"It doesn't, but I still don't like surprises."
"Doesn't matter anymore; we're here," Kate replied as she steered the sedan into the parking lot of the Middleton Dodge dealership.
"What're we doing here?"
"I told you, we're going shopping," the mint-skinned woman replied as she parked the car and shut it off. "You didn't think I was gonna keep driving this grocery-getter forever, did you?"
"Well, no; but I kinda figured you for a BMW or Audi type."
Kate laughed derisively as they climbed out of the car. "Not even close," she replied, "if there's one thing I got from my dad, it's a love of American muscle cars and all things Mopar."
"Sounds to me like you'd get along great with Motor Ed," Kim jibed as they walked along the rows of new cars.
"Don't even go there, Princess," the older woman snarled in a Shego-like fashion. "I stand a better chance of dating Steve Barkin again."
"Enough said," Kim said with a nod as she looked around the lot. "So did you have anything in particular in mind, or are you just looking to see what they have to offer?"
"Oh, I've already got an idea, but I want to try one out first to see if it's as good as I think it is," Kate replied as she watched a salesman start jogging in their direction.
"Good afternoon, ladies," the balding, middle-aged man said as he tried his best to not leer at the two athletically-gorgeous young women before him, "can I help you find anything in particular?"
"Yeah, I'd like to take that Charger R/T for a test drive," Kate replied, pointing at the black sedan in question.
"An excellent choice," the salesman enthused, clapping his hands together. "All I'll need is your driver's license for insurance purposes and we can get started."
Kate withdrew the requested piece of identification from her purse and handed it to the salesman, moving her sunglasses to the top of her head at the same time. "There ya go," she said with a sultry grin and a wink, much to Kim's amusement.
"I think you just made his day," the redhead quipped as she watched the salesman return to the showroom, glancing over his shoulder about every third step.
"I think we both did," the older woman retorted, casting a glance at her former foe. Both were dressed in fashions that accentuated their lean, toned physiques—a teal, form-fitting tank top and Capri pants on Kate and a knee-length halter-style sundress with a floral print on Kim. "Selling Dodges means you've pretty much resigned yourself to the minivan and pickup crowd; we're probably the first single women under forty-five to come car shopping here in six months."
"Never thought of it that way," Kim said as she pondered the former villainess' logic, "but you do have a point… doesn't exactly explain why you had to give the poor man a mind screw, though."
"Oh, come on; don't tell me you've never used your feminine wiles to reduce a guy to a puddle of goo on the floor."
"Only when it works to my advantage."
"Like getting a couple of grand knocked off the sticker price?"
"More like escaping a fortified black-marketer's stronghold," the teen heroine replied with a shudder as she recalled her escape from the Phoenix Corporation. Kate noticed the younger woman's reaction and decided to let the matter drop for the time being, but made a mental note to talk to her about it later.
Presently the salesman returned with the mint-skinned woman's driver's license and the keys to the Charger. "Everything's in order, Miss Gogh; whenever you're ready," he said with a toothy grin as he handed the items to her.
Kate accepted the keys and identification, placing the latter back in her purse before returning her sunglasses to her face. "Alright; let's do this," she said with a smirk that would've made her old persona proud. Turning her attention back to the salesman, she flashed him another winning smile. "Don't worry; we'll bring it back the way we found it," she said saccharinely, approaching the gleaming automobile with a provocative sway in her hips.
"O… kay," the salesman mumbled, almost incoherently.
"You may have gone straight, but you're still evil, Kate," Kim said with a giggle as the older woman started the car, the V8 engine under the hood rumbling to life.
"Yeah, I am," the former villainess agreed with another smirk as she threw the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot, "but it's fun."
Shaking her head and chuckling softly, the high-school grad settled herself into her seat and adjusted the stylish sunglasses she wore as Kate pressed the Charger's accelerator toward the floor, feeding fuel to the big engine and, by virtue, power to the rear wheels. With expert precision, the malachite vixen maneuvered the sedan onto the highway and was soon cruising in the northbound passing lane at close to seventy-five miles per hour. "You weren't kidding when you said 'test drive,' were you?" the younger woman commented.
"Hell, no; I wanna see what this jalopy can do before I sign anything," Kate replied as her foot approached the floorboard, coaxing another five miles per hour from the Hemi powerplant.
So what's the verdict?"
Kate rested her hand longingly on the gearshift mounted in the center console. "Aside from the fact I wish it was a five-speed, I love it," she replied with a sigh. "I gotta admit, though; for an automatic, it handles and performs like a dream."
"It is a gorgeous car," Kim agreed with a nod.
"You like it… I like it… sounds like a unanimous decision to me," the former villainess said as she gently slowed the car and took the Upperton exit to turn around. "Wouldn't you say?"
Kim met her friend's inquiring gaze with a nod of agreement. "I would," she replied simply.
"I guess all that's left now is the paperwork… also known as 'Two Hours of My Life I'll Never Get Back'," Kate said as she pulled back onto the highway southbound. "Unless, of course, you have somewhere you need to be; I can always come back and do the paperwork later."
"Nah, Ron's working till eleven tonight and Mom and Dad aren't expecting me home until then; I have nowhere to be anytime soon."
Their conversation lapsed at that point as the salesman arrived beside them again. "So, what do you think?" he asked, visibly relieved that, despite the Richard Petty-inspired driving, the car returned in one piece.
"I think that, if everything goes well, I'd like to take it home," Kate replied with another winning smile. "What say we go talk numbers?"
A little over two hours later had the two women leaving the Global Justice complex where Kate was living for the time being. They'd stopped by long enough for Kim to drop off her former nemesis' borrowed car to the motor pool and were on their way back to the mall to pick up the teen's car. They'd driven in companionable silence for a few minutes before Kate decided to ask the question that had bothered her since they first spoke with the car salesman. "Kim… what did you mean when we were at the dealership?"
"About what?" the former cheerleader asked with a raised eyebrow.
"You'd said something about using your body to your advantage when you got loose from Phoenix… what did you do?"
Kim's face darkened as she stared out the windshield. She remained silent for a long moment before finally responding to her friend's question. "You saw what I was wearing that night, right?" she began, continuing when Kate acknowledged that she had. "Well, when they locked me in the cell they had me in, the guard they'd posted was spending more time staring at my ass and legs than he did actually guarding me. I noticed and decided I'd try to use it to my advantage."
"You were hoping he was thinking with Mr. Happy, right?"
"Yeah; I let my hair down and when I knew he was watching, I looked right at him and made sure my shorts were riding low enough to show him I was wearing a thong."
"That would've gotten his attention, alright."
"Oh, yeah; after I pranced around like a Vegas showgirl for a minute, he finally caved and came in the cell," Kim replied, the revulsion evident on her face as she recounted the story. "As soon as he came in, I started telling him how I had my eye on him and how hot and bothered being a captive made me… I, uh… I also kinda dragged you into it."
"Come again?"
"I'm sure you've seen and heard the stories that have gone around the rags that say Ron's just a cover and I'm really a lesbian and we're getting ready to move to Canada so we can get married?"
"You mean… 'us'?" Kate interjected, waving her hand back and forth between them. When Kim nodded, the former villainess burst into laughter. "Don't take this too personal, Princess, but you're not my type," she guffawed, slapping the steering wheel, "you have boobs."
"That goes both ways," Kim replied dryly, "but it helped my situation at the time. I told him that you were the reason I kept getting captured by Drakken; I wanted to so you could get your hands on me."
"But that would've backfired; if you told him you were into me, you wouldn't want him."
"He thought that's what I was getting at, but I told him I was bisexual and craving a man at the moment," she explained, shuddering again at the memory. "When he committed and started trying to whip it out, I was close enough I could give him a forearm in the face and a knee in the package before he could react. Once I had him down and out, I stripped his guns, a Bowie knife and his keycard from him and got the hell out."
"Geez, Kim; I didn't know you had it in you," Kate said with a measure of awe in her voice.
"Neither did I," Kim replied, "but apparently desperate times call for desperate measures… and no matter how many times I tell myself that, it still doesn't help the fact I want to puke every time I think about it."
Casting a sidelong glance at the younger woman, Kate nodded with a wry grin. "At least we know your morals are still intact," she commented, "I'd be more worried if you told me you got off on the rush of doing it."
"Not a chance!" the redhead exclaimed vehemently. "The only man I want to do that for is Ron."
"I'm sure he'd enjoy it, too," Kate chuckled as she steered the new car into the Middleton Mall parking lot and pulled alongside Kim's Sloth. Looking at the clock mounted on the dashboard, the raven-haired vixen swore under her breath. "Listen, Kim; I hate to flake on you, but I just remembered I have a meeting in, like, twenty minutes with a realtor about a place I saw in the classifieds."
"Say no more," Kim replied with an understanding smile as she opened her door, "give me a call later and let me know how it went."
"You bet," the older woman replied as Kim closed the door.
Almost exactly twenty minutes later, Kate was standing in the driveway of a home in the Middleton suburbs, leaning against her car's rear quarter panel and smoking a cigarette while she waited for the realtor to show up. Figures; I bust my ass to get here on time and the damned realtor's late, she groused internally as she looked over the house's façade. On the bright side, if this place is as nice inside as it is outside, it'll be worth the wait, she mused as she looked the dwelling over.
For all intents and purposes, it was a typical split-level abode that had been originally built in the 1970's and updated by its current owner and seller. What had caught Kate's eye and interest was the spacious backyard—complete with a fenced-in, in-ground pool—that was enclosed by four-foot hedges on three sides and the relatively low selling price, considering it stood on a full acre and a half of land. Combined with the fact it was located barely ten minutes from downtown Middleton made the deal almost too good to be true, to the point that the former villainess had already decided to wait for the realtor to show her the house and property in its entirety before she bothered getting her hopes up.
Sighing, the malachite woman wandered to the end of the driveway and looked back at the house; idly noting just how much her car looked like it belonged, standing in front of the garage as it was. Taking a last, thoughtful drag off her cigarette, she turned to toss the butt down a storm drain when she noticed a white Chevy Tahoe slowing down and signaling a turn into the driveway. About damn time, she thought as she stood aside to let the morbidly-large SUV pass; following behind it at a leisurely pace, her hands tucked into the back pockets of her pants, palms-out.
She had just drawn even with the back bumper of the Tahoe when the driver's door opened and a petite woman of about forty stepped out, her shoulder-length hair tied into a tight ponytail at the back of her head. "Sorry I'm late," she said as she opened the back door and withdrew a briefcase, "but my last showing took a bit longer than expected—first-time homebuyers that bring in their own GC's to inspect the house are a pain in my posterior."
"No problem," Kate said as the realtor arranged herself, "I was a little late getting here, myself."
"Well, we're here now; that's the important thing," the diminutive blonde said as she extended her hand. "Tina King."
"Kate Gogh," the reformed mercenary replied, shaking King's hand. "Before we get started, I have one question I just have to ask; why's this place selling for so cheap compared to the other houses in the area, especially with an acre and a half of land?"
"I really don't know for sure," King said with a shrug as she withdrew the key to the front door from the pocket of her blazer, "but I do know it's a legitimate deal; I happen to know the current owner personally, but he wouldn't go into details on why he's selling at such a low price."
"Fair enough," Kate replied with a nod.
King flashed an impossibly-white smile at her client as she gestured towards the house. "Shall we…?"
"That's what we're here for," the mint-skinned woman replied, motioning for the realtor to lead the way.
"Well, I know you've already read the online advertisement for this home, so I won't bore you with what was in that," King began as she led her client through the front door, "although I feel I have to reiterate the hardwood and ceramic floors throughout and the forced-air heating system. The roof, siding and windows have all been upgraded to the most energy-efficient models currently available on the market; the seller told me that the savings on the heating bill this past winter alone have all but paid for the renovations."
"Good to know; I like my heat in the wintertime," Kate noted as they toured the empty house.
"Don't we all," King agreed as they proceeded through the house.
Kate couldn't help but marvel at how spacious the entire dwelling was; apparently it was much bigger inside than it appeared from the outside. On the main level, there were three bedrooms, including the master bedroom—which had its own full bath, complete with Jacuzzi—the main bathroom and an open-concept living/dining/kitchen area. In the basement was another bedroom, a laundry room with a half-bath and corner shower stall, a utility room and a rec room that took up the remaining two-thirds of the level.
After they'd gone through the house, King picked up her shoes from the front entryway and motioned for Kate to follow her into the backyard. "No tour of this house is complete without seeing the back," she stated, stopping at the patio doors in the kitchen long enough to slip her footwear on; her client following suit with her sandals. "Almost a full acre of backyard, including a fenced-in, in-ground pool and a screened-in portion of the deck for entertaining on those warm summer evenings that you don't want to be eaten alive by mosquitoes."
"Are you sure the price is right on the website?" the malachite vixen asked again as she looked over the immaculately-manicured lawn. "I would think a place like this would have a price tag about sixty or seventy grand more, at least."
"I know; I told the seller he could up the price that much and it would still sell fast, but he insisted that this be the asking price," King replied as they re-entered the house.
Kate couldn't help but chuckle to herself. "Normally I would never be willing to pay the listing price on a house, but this is too good a deal to pass up," she said, turning to look the realtor in the eye as the slight businesswoman slid the patio doors shut again. "How soon can we start the paperwork?"
"Let's go back to my office and we'll get started," King replied.
Kim, meanwhile, had decided to surprise her boyfriend, Ron Stoppable, with lunch. Taking a quick detour to the Bueno Nacho drive-thru, the teen heroine made her way to Smarty Mart and parked beside her life-long best friend's Mustang and shut the engine off, leaving the windows down and the radio playing as she dug her cell phone from her purse. Retrieving the device, she flipped it open and sent a quick text message to him:
Hey baby, here with bn for lunch, parked by your car
Less than fifteen seconds later she received a reply:
Booya! Ill b out in 10
Giggling at her boyfriend's typical reply, she flipped her phone shut and turned the radio up, the strains of Brad Paisley's "Ticks" wafting from the speakers. Reclining the seat a bit, the heroine folded her hands behind her head and closed her eyes, tapping her left foot behind the clutch pedal in time with the beat and enjoying the sensation of the warm sun shining on her through the window.
"I wouldn't mind checking you for ticks."
Kim heard the voice at about the same moment she realized there was a shadow blocking the sunlight that had been streaming through her open window. Opening her eyes, she tipped her sunglasses back to look at the uninvited newcomer. "And just what is that supposed to mean, Bobby?" she asked with more than just a hint of annoyance in her voice.
Bobby Johnson smirked as he rested his arm on the magenta hatchback's roof and leaned closer to the window. "You know exactly what I mean, Kim," he said, openly leering at her. "You're a woman that needs a real man, not some RPG-playing weirdo."
"And I suppose this is your way of applying for the position of 'real man', is it?"
"Well, I thought maybe you'd like to give it another shot; I mean, you were a little hasty about breaking it off between us in junior year."
"Oh, really?" she retorted with raised eyebrows, her hands having surreptitiously moved so her left was on the door handle and her right was on the buckle of her seatbelt. "So the fact you wanted me to do things with you I wasn't ready to do wasn't a good enough reason to break it off?"
"Kim, Kim, Kim… we both know you wanted it, deep down; you were just scared to admit it to yourself," Bobby replied with a smirk. "Give me a chance and I'll make you forget all about loser-boy."
What happened next took all of about one-twentieth of a second: Kim unfastened her seatbelt and opened her door, catapulting herself out of the car and standing toe-to-toe with Bobby, pinning him against his pickup with her right forearm across his throat and her right knee planted between his legs, perfectly poised for a quick strike. "Now hear this," she snarled to the startled young man, "I have never wanted anything from you, Bobby; nor will I ever. Ron Stoppable is more man than you'll ever be and, more importantly, he's the perfect man for me."
"B-but…" Bobby stammered lamely.
"No buts, Bobby; I'm with Ron and I have every intention on keeping it that way," Kim interrupted. "Now, I would strongly suggest you get back in your truck and find another parking space; I'm waiting for Ron so we can have lunch together and I'd like to do so in peace."
Bobby nodded as vigorously as he could with Kim's arm pressed under his jaw, so she slowly backed off, keeping a defensive stance as she glared at him. Swallowing heavily once he had breathing room, the tall and—Kim wasn't too proud to admit—handsome young man slowly made his way around the dark-green Silverado, never turning to face away from his former crush. Once he'd made his way to the driver's door, he quickly jumped in and backed the vehicle from the parking space, speeding away with a light squeal of rubber.
"Some people's children," Kim sighed to herself as she slumped back into her car and shut the door, "it's times like this I can understand why Kate started smoking." Of course, she would never even consider taking up such an unhealthy habit—especially with a physician for a mother—but she wouldn't begrudge anybody that did, either.
She was so preoccupied with stewing over the irritation that was Bobby Johnson that she didn't notice Ron appear between his car and hers until he stuck his head in the open window and spoke. "Hey, KP!" he said cheerily, his bright grin dissipating when he saw the dark scowl on his girlfriend's face. "What's wrong?"
Turning to look at her boyfriend, her expression softened—she even managed a smile—as she unlocked the door. "Nothing's wrong, Ron," she said, picking the Bueno Nacho takeout bag up from the passenger's seat so he could get in. "Just annoyed by a former crush is all."
"Josh Mankey?"
"Bobby Johnson," she replied with a shake of her head. "I was listening to the radio with the windows open while I was waiting for you and he decided the time was ripe for a cheesy pick-up line."
"That wouldn't normally bother you," Ron said as he handed her a taco salad in a plastic container, "unless he said something else."
Kim couldn't suppress the amused chuckle that escaped her as she removed the clear dome from her salad and accepted the plastic fork from her boyfriend. "You know me way too well, you know that?" she said wryly.
"All part of being your best friend and boyfriend, KP," he replied matter-of-factly as he extracted a Naco from the bag. "So what did he say that got you worked up?"
"It was all laughable until he called you a loser," Kim said as she drizzled ranch dressing over her salad, replaced the dome on the container and shook it vigorously—maybe a little more vigorously than she needed—to coat her salad with the condiment; her voice warbling in time with her shaking as she spoke again. "He said something about being with a real man making me forget about loser-boy and, well… I lost it."
"Kim, please tell me our next visit won't be a conjugal one at the county jail," Ron moaned melodramatically as he watched her remove the cover from her salad again and unwrap the disposable fork.
"I didn't hit him," she retorted as she stabbed a piece of chicken rather vehemently, "I just made it perfectly clear that I didn't appreciate how he was talking to me in general and that I had every intention on having a peaceful lunch with the man I loved and it would probably be in his best interests to move along… I left out the part where I normally would tell him he would get hurt if he didn't," she added with a smirk and inflection that suggested she was spending too much time with Kate.
As usual, Ron had worked his way through two Nacos and half a grande-sized soda in the amount of time it took his girlfriend to get four bites into her salad. Swallowing the mouthful of cola he had, the towheaded young man wiped his mouth with a napkin from the bag (Kim was really starting to rub off on him, manners-wise) before speaking again. "I suppose, when it comes right down to it, that was probably the only way to get the message through his head," he commented. "Just out of curiosity, what was his pickup line?"
Kim choked back a chuckle as she recalled Bobby's initial line, considering she had just taken a sip of her soda and really didn't like the idea of snorting it out her nose. "The song 'Ticks' was playing when he came along," she said, "and he comes along and tells me he wouldn't mind checking me for ticks."
Like Kim, Ron had been taking a sip of his soda while he listened. Unlike Kim, however, he couldn't hold back the guffaw that overtook him when she told him what Bobby had said, resulting in the freckle-faced teen gagging and shooting the carbonated beverage out both nostrils. Luckily for all involved, the now-empty Bueno Nacho bag in his lap caught the majority of the expelled liquid, thereby avoiding a potentially sticky mess. "Oh, man, KP," he finally choked out as he wiped the remnants from his nose and upper lip, "that is bad! Even I could come up with something better than that… okay, maybe I couldn't," he conceded when he noticed his girlfriend's doubtful expression.
"Ah, but you forget one key detail," she said, gently touching her fingertip to the end of his nose.
"Oh? What's that?"
A fond smile crossed the redhead's face as she ran her fingers through her boyfriend's unruly locks. "I like it when you use cheesy pickup lines on me," she said, leaning in to kiss his nose gently, "since we're already together; it's cute."
"Badical," Ron murmured with a grin as Kim's lips collided with his. As she pulled away, however, his grin was replaced with a scowl of confusion. "Wait, so cheesy pickup lines work better after you've already landed the girl? That doesn't make any sense!"
Kim sighed with a knowing smirk. "Ron, the point is the cheesy pickup lines are cute because you're not trying to use them to actually pick me up; you're just being silly and, well, cute," she explained.
"Oh, okay; gotcha now," he nodded. I think…
"Don't strain yourself thinking about it too hard, baby," she giggled, grasping his hand and squeezing it tenderly, "it's just one of those girl things that you wouldn't understand."
"You mean like waxing your eyebrows?"
"Exactly."
"Oh, okay then," he sighed, visibly relaxing. For some time the young couple just sat and enjoyed each other's company; Kim's right hand softly caressing Ron's left before finally sliding fully into his gentle grasp, their fingers laced together.
A full ten minutes later, Kim broke the comfortable silence with a disappointed groan. "It's almost time for you to go back to work, isn't it?" she said.
"Yeah, it is," he sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. He'd just started to doze off when Kim's voice roused him; which, he reasoned, was probably for the best. "Thanks again for lunch, KP; it was great."
"Anything for my guy," she replied, leaning across the center console to kiss him tenderly. "Have a good day, baby," she whispered, her lips brushing his as she spoke, "I love you."
"Love you too, KP," he murmured, stealing one last buss before stepping out of the car. After he shut the door, he leaned down and stuck his head through the still-open passenger's side window. "You want me to call you when I get out of here tonight?"
"Please and thank you," she said with a smile. "It'll be too late to go out and do anything, but we could always curl up in the den and watch a movie or something."
"Sounds like a plan to me," he replied, "talk to you later, KP."
"Bye," she said, waving at her man with a broad smile on her face. She sat and watched as Ron turned away and walked back towards the retail outlet, only starting her car once he'd stepped through the entrance and disappeared from sight. Backing out of her parking space, the teen heroine navigated through the parking lot and had just eased back into traffic towards her house when her cell phone rang. Pressing a button on the dashboard, she answered it through the Bluetooth hands-free feature built into the cabin of the car. "Hello?"
"Hey Kim," Tara King's voice said, "did I catch you at a bad time?"
"Hey Tara; no, not a bad time at all," Kim replied, "I just left Smarty Mart. What's up?"
"Just left Smarty Mart, meaning you were visiting Ron," the perky blonde said with a giggle in her voice. "Listen, I need a huge favor and I think you're the only one that can help me."
"Sure, T; what do you need?"
Kim heard Tara take a deep breath, almost as if she were dreading broaching the subject she'd already touched on, but she waited patiently for her former cheer teammate to speak. "You know that cheer clinic that Bonnie and I have been running for the middle school students over the summer?"
"Yeah; that was actually a really good idea," Kim replied, "how's it going so far?"
"Oh, it's going great, but here's my problem: I hurt my knee again during the last class and the doctor wants me to lay off the acrobatics for this week. Would you be able to cover for me tonight?"
"Of course I can," Kim replied, thankful Tara couldn't see the doubtful scowl that crossed her face, "but what's Bonnie gonna think about me showing up instead of you?"
"It was Bonnie's idea," Tara said, causing the redhead to blink in surprise. "When I called her and told her I wouldn't be able to make tonight's class, she suggested I call you and if you couldn't, she was gonna try Marcella."
Kim was taken aback by Tara's statement, but she managed to keep her voice steady as she responded. "Oh, well; I guess if Bonnie's okay with it, I'll do it," she said. "What time am I supposed to meet her there?"
"Class starts at seven-thirty; Bonnie's usually there around seven to warm up if you want to go over and get up to speed on what we're working on. It's pretty basic stuff, so it shouldn't take long for you to figure out where we're going with it."
"Okay," Kim said as she glanced at the clock on the car's dashboard, "it's six-thirty now and I'm almost home; were you gonna call Bonnie or should I?"
"I'll call her and let her know you're on your way," Tara replied. "Thanks a million, Kim; you're a lifesaver."
"No problem, Tara; hope your knee gets better soon," Kim said.
"You and me both," the blonde said dryly, "talk to you later, Kim."
"Bye," the redhead replied, disconnecting the call. Wonder how this is gonna work out, she mused as she carried on towards her home, intrigued by the unexpected turn of events.
The Bermuda Triangle was, as usual, a busy spot. Located just off the Cayman Islands, the island nightclub was a popular destination for local boaters and international jet-setters alike. Offering a world-class dance club, Vegas-style casino, poker tables and a host of other distractions, the Triangle had activities to cater to any and all interests; one of the main reasons it was the hotspot it had become.
Far beneath the bustling nightclub and the hubbub of the main dance floor, in the bowels of the establishment, the proprietor of the club—Harold "Big Daddy" Brotherson—was seated on his usual pile of Oriental-style cushions. A short man with a receding hairline and an expanding waistline, the soft-spoken Brotherson's appearance gave no hint of his main profession… information broker of the underworld. If anything was worth knowing in the worlds of both legitimate business and illegitimate affairs—organized or not—Brotherson knew about it and knew who wanted it.
Being such a wealth of information did come at a cost, however. Due to his vast knowledge of goings-on in the criminal world, Brotherson had to spend the majority of his time in the cavernous and fortified depths of his nightclub. For the informant, he felt it was a small price to pay in order to ensure the success of his enterprise; he wasn't what one would call an avid outdoorsman (in reality, he could almost be described as agoraphobic) and saw the time he spent in his bunker-like abode as convenient, allowing him the opportunity to ensure any and all information he acquired was objective and accurate before he passed it along to the highest bidder.
Of course, Brotherson—like most other back-room businessmen—had eccentricities that his clients had to deal with and endure; namely his affinity for playing silly and childish games before divulging purchased information. Failure to do so insulted him quite profusely, usually resulting in his bodyguard—a six-foot-seven behemoth of a man ironically named "Tiny"—engaging the client in a round of his favorite game, Thud. Due to his reputation for all information provided being 100% accurate, however; such eccentricities were considered a necessary evil by those who dealt with him.
Such was the mindset of the current visitor to the informant's domain. Having dealt with Brotherson before, he'd come prepared to endure the trivialities associated with enlisting the man's services and wasn't surprised when he was challenged to a highly-competitive round of "Red Light, Green Light," which brought him to a pouffe directly across from the balding informant.
"Have a seat," Brotherson said in his silky-smooth voice as one small hand motioned to the ornate pillow before him.
"Thank you," the client said as he lowered himself to the cushion, only speaking again once he'd found a way to fold his long legs comfortably while seated four inches off the ground. "I see you've upgraded your facilities since the last time we did business; apparently you're doing well for yourself."
"I have no complaints," Brotherson replied with a small smile. "There has been and always will be a market for information and knowledge; making my living by providing such knowledge for a fee has proven to be most lucrative."
"Apparently," the man noted, looking around the room observationally.
"I don't believe, however, that your reason for being here has to do with my financial status," the eccentric information broker stated as he opened a laptop on a stand beside him and tapped a few keys. "I've researched the subject you inquired about and I must say the results were… intriguing, to say the least."
Brotherson's client laid the stainless-steel briefcase he'd brought flat between them and opened it so it faced the vertically-challenged man. "Twenty-five thousand dollars in non-sequential United States currency; no denomination higher than one hundred dollars and all bills have been in circulation," he said, "as we agreed."
"As we agreed," Brotherson parroted as he plugged a flash drive into the laptop and turned it to face his client. "You may peruse the information to ensure its quality before we close the transaction," he said, "and you're free to leave with either your money or the information at any time; just not both."
"Of course, Mr. Brotherson; I'm well aware of the etiquette involved," the middle-aged man said as he approached the laptop and scanned the information he'd requested. He said nothing until he'd finished, sitting back with an annoyed grunt. "So the rumors are true," he muttered with a scowl.
"What rumors would those be, Mr. Gray?" Brotherson asked.
"I'd been told by several sources in my field that Shego had renounced her former employer in favor of working with Kim Possible," Gray replied with a sigh, "which is most unfortunate and inconvenient for my purposes."
"Your purpose for this information is none of my concern, Mr. Gray," the pudgy informant said with a frown. "Will you be purchasing the information to peruse further at your own leisure, or will you be leaving it with me?"
"Oh, I'll take the information," Gray said, "it is still valuable to me and may provide me with a way to rectify this new conundrum that's arisen."
"Very well," Brotherson said as he dismounted the flash drive from the laptop and dropped it into Gray's open hand. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Gray."
"Likewise, Mr. Brotherson," Gray nodded as he placed the small drive into an inner pocket of his blazer and rose. "Good day to you, sir."
"And to you," Brotherson replied with a nod, watching intently as Tiny escorted the distinguished-looking man from the information broker's inner sanctum.
A/N: Well, there it is; the beginnings of another adventure for Kim and Ron and the gang. Like I said before, there's really not much to say at this point, other than I hope you enjoy this one. For those that have read and enjoyed the previous story, all I'll say is I hope this one lives up to your expectations and I look forward to hearing from each and every one of you.
As always, leave a review and get a response!
Cheers,
Deuce