I was originally planning on waiting for my Christmas break before I would begin writing this story. However, several new stories have come out recently that I had been thinking of as well, and I'm afraid that if I wait too long to get this story out there that someone else will beat me to it.
I do want to point a few things out before I begin. First off, for those who don't know, "Underworld" and "Underworld: Evolution" are two recent movies, documenting a war between Vampires and Werewolves, though they are called Lycans in the film. I won't go into anymore detail; suffice to say that they are fantastic films (for those who like these kinds of movies), and I would highly recommend seeing them both.
Another thing I'd like to point out is that from the second movie, we learn that this is taking place somewhere in Eastern Europe.
Add to that a fact from the first movie, when the entourage of Amelia arrived before she did, one of her members offered a toast, saying that although their houses were separated by a great ocean, they were still united. This tells us that not only are there at least two Vampire Houses in the world, but one lies across the Atlantic.
I am using these two facts in tandem to base my story in New York City. I chose to do this for three simple reasons. The first is that it is more plausible for Kim and Ron to attend college/culinary institute in the States than in Europe. The second is that this offers me more leeway; what I mean is that I am less likely to step on anyone's toes if they happen to be die-hard fans of the films. The third reason is because my knowledge of American schools is not great, but I do know that New York has both a culinary institute and a good college (if not several).
Also, I would like to point out that Viktor's propaganda has remained intact on this side. As such, I will continue to utilize it as if it were truth.
This story is Post-StD. Kim and Ron are together in this story; their senior year done, they are now heading to school in (obviously) New York.
Sorry, I spent so much time opening this story up, but I decided to get these areas covered before I had too many complaints about what I was doing.
If you saw it on Kim Possible, it is owned by Disney. If you saw it on either of the Underworld movies, it is owned by whoever made the movies.
Well, enough of this dribble, on to the main event…
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"This is so totally beyond badical, KP," Ron said as they entered their new, penthouse apartment. Kim smiled at her boyfriend's enthusiasm. The advantages to being the daughter of a rocket scientist and a brain surgeon, she thought as she entered the almost palace-like expanse within. Both her parents were highly paid for their respective jobs, and they decided if Kim was going to pay for her own schooling (they tried to convince her otherwise, but Kim had flat-out refused), they could at least make sure she was staying in a nice place. 'Nice' barely began to describe this apartment. The long staircase in front of them stretched to the floor below. Each step was clearly made of marble, as was the floor below it. Windows opened up on each and every wall, giving a clear view of the vast city from thirty-eight floors up. The adjacent rooms currently had their doors open, and each was immense.
"Does this one apartment encompass the entire floor?" Ron asked, still slack-jawed from the sheer size and grandeur of the penthouse.
"Oh, yeah," Kim said as she laid her luggage on the ground. "This place is spankin'!" she added as she walked towards Ron, looping her arms around his waist. A big, goofy grin on his face, Ron turned his head towards Kim, and the two locked into a passionate kiss in their new palace.
Breaking their kiss, Kim opened her eyes and looked into Ron's chocolate brown ones. "You remember what we talked about, right?" she questioned him.
"If your Dad calls, don't answer it," Ron answered, rolling his eyes.
"And…"
"And if I do, say you're just at the door, talking to the manager, and I'm just waiting in the kitchen."
"Good boy," Kim said with a little smirk on her face.
"Are you calling me a dog, KP?" Ron asked his girlfriend.
"It's not my fault that I know how to make you beg." His smile a little wider, Ron and Kim locked lips again.
James Possible, although aware of the fact that his daughter and his daughter's life-long best friend were dating, did not know they were sharing an apartment. Kim had told her mother about her and Ron's "extracurricular activities" (actually, she walked in on them while they were using the living room couch), and being relatively understanding, or at least more so than her husband when it came to this topic of conversation, Anne Possible knew the two were responsible enough to have a place together.
Breaking apart once again, Kim took Ron's hand. "Come on, I got to show you something."
Leading him to one of the adjacent rooms, she turned on the light, eliciting a gasp from Ron. Inside was a Naked Mole Rat's paradise. Plastic tubing connected across the entire room. A cheese dispenser stood against the wall, and the large bed in the middle was shaped like the original Buenos Nacho.
Kim didn't think it was possible for his smile to grow any wider, but Ron's face lit up when he saw the room. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out Rufus. "Rufus, buddy, wait 'til you see the room Kimila decked out for ya!"
Rufus, still shaking off what he felt was a far too short nap, looked around. Although getting on in years by rodent standards, he grew insanely excited, jumped off Ron's hands and dashed for the cheese machine.
"Do you think he approves?" Kim asked, cocking an eyebrow. His belly full of cheese, Rufus made a mad sprint through his plastic tubes, jumping into his bed. Kim didn't think he hit the bed before he fell asleep.
It was now that Kim grew intently aware that Ron was looking at her. She turned and looked at him for a few moments. "What?" She finally asked.
His usual, dopey grin replaced by something almost playfully wicked. "You look so much like Shego when you say something like that."
Too caught off guard to pay close attention to Ron's bizarre sentence structure, she squinted at him. "Do you want to take that back?"
"Uh… no." With that, Ron ran off like a shot. Kim, grabbing a pillow off the floor, ran after him. She caught up with him in the living room and, knocking him to the floor, sat on him, pinning his hands above his head.
"So, are you going to take it back?"
"Never," Ron said with a grin still on his face.
Kim leaned down on top of her boyfriend and whispered in his ear. At first, he wasn't paying too much attention, distracted by the way her breasts were pressed against his chest, but once he caught the part about what privileges he was going to have to live without if he didn't take it back, his face fell.
"Okay, I take it back tenfold. A hundredfold. No, wait, a thousand fold. Scratch that, infinity fold!"
Kim laughed at him. He can be so strange sometimes, she thought, but I wouldn't dream of changing him for the world.
"You know, Ron, that remark really hurt me. You're going to have to make it up to me." Kim said, feigning emotional injury.
"How am I going to do that?" Ron asked, confusion evident in his face.
"Oh," Kim said, letting a few strands of her hair fall on Ron's face, "I'll think of something." A wicked little smile crossed her face.
Ron, although not the swiftest horse in the race, eventually caught on and was disappointed when Kim climbed off him. "Come on, Romeo, I still have one more room I'd like to show you."
Reluctantly getting up off the floor, Ron walked after Kim. She stepped into the room at the end of the hall. When Ron walked in, his expression was reminiscent of when he had first seen that little black dress he loved to see her in. It was the master bedroom. The great bed in the middle of the room was immense, its red silk sheets accenting the royal purple of the curtains perfectly.
"What do you think?" Kim asked, turning to her boyfriend/lover
Taking her face into his hands, Ron planted a deep kiss on her lips. "I think you're perfect."
"I meant the room, Ron."
"As long as you're in it…" He said, taking a quick glance around. He didn't finish that sentence, just planted another kiss on Kim, though now, he was starting to trail down her neck.
"You know, Ron, I made sure the bed was built very sturdy, and the walls properly soundproofed." Kim said, trying not to start moaning, but it was very hard.
"And just why are you telling me that?"
"Why, I want you to help me test them, of course…"
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Several hours later, dressed in nothing more than one of Ron's old hockey jerseys, Kim slowly ate through a small bowl of Fudge Ripple as she took a seat on the couch and started flipping through channels.
Nothing, nope, nada, zip, seen it, seen it, never want to see again, what the hell is that guy doing to that women's… eewwww! Kim hadn't been that grossed out since her mother warned her that she had inherited her lung power. That was way TMI. Okay, never watching that channel again, no, no, no, no… 500 channels, and I can't find a thing…Oh, wait a minute. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a winner.
Kim smiled as the theme music began. She loved this show and really didn't care what anyone else said. Of course, she'd never admit to actually liking it.
It's not my fault I grew to like it. I mean, between the tweebs, Monique, and Ron, it's on almost constantly.
Kim had never dreamed she would one day become a fan of the GWA, but it had finally happened. She didn't care for the title fights involving Pain King and Steel Toe like her BFBF, her BGF, or the tweebs. No, she absolutely loved the $1,000 opening fight. All the matches had these bouts to warm the crowd up for the main event. The way it worked was simple: local amateurs would be called out one by one; the point was to throw your opponent out of the ring, and then, they'd call out the next guy. The last guy in the ring won $1,000. Okay, maybe it wasn't fair, as the first guy would have to fight them all, while the last guy would only have to fight one person, but that was half the fun.
Didn't Ron say some minor league copied that? What did he call it? Royal… something or other; on the WW… whatever.
Kim wasn't kidding that she would never admit to liking this show. It gave her something to hold over Ron. If he wanted something GWA-related, he'd have to go through her. And I'll only accept one kind of payment…
Some might have thought Kim was being rather dirty about this, but she didn't think so. She and Ron had only been having sex since the senior prom. Coincidently, she was screaming so loud that first time that her mother rushed in from the garage to find them on the couch ("Mrs. Dr. Possible, I swear this isn't, maybe, kind of… what it looks like"). It wasn't like she had slept with anyone else or was even thinking such a thing; she knew she was in for the long haul.
Ron had been lazy and put off packing for their move until the last minute. She had been helping him get his stuff together when she found something. It was a small, peacock blue, velvet box. She opened it up and found a ring made of white gold with four completely clear diamonds surrounding a single crystal-clear emerald. An engraving on the inside of the ring read To Kim, my BFGF for life. Ron might have gone through his Naco money like water through a sieve, but even Kim knew the kind of claude Ron must have spent on this meant one thing; this was an engagement ring.
She didn't know when he was planning on proposing; it could be tonight or after graduation. She was willing to wait, though, knowing full well that he would make it as memorable as possible.
She was awakened by a shrill noise she recognized as a foghorn blast. Apparently, the Kimmunicator had been going off for some time before Wade resorted to more drastic measures to wake her.
"Sorry, Wade, I fell asleep."
"Uh, Kim… why are you in one of Ron's jerseys?"
Kim nearly turned as red as the jersey. "Is that really important?" she asked the computer genius, who, for all his degrees, was still rather childish about sex. She expected him to start cracking wise about her and Ron's love life, but was surprised when he just gave a heavy sigh.
"So, what's the sitch, Wade?"
She had never seen Wade look so scared. "Kim, shots have been fired downtown."
"What's that got to do with me?" She asked confusedly. "I handle take-over-the-world super villains, not gang stuff."
Even from her end, Kim could feel Wade's apprehension. "The shots were fired at the culinary institute."
Kim shot upright, accidentally flashing Wade, though neither noticed. Apathy was replaced by toe-curling panic.
"Ron…"
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Well, this dream has certainly turned into a nightmare.
Ron's night had started great. Kim had put a smile on his face that would not leave easily. Getting shot at, however, was quite enough to break his ethereal mood.
I hate irony. I really, really, really do.
Kim's "exercise routine" wasn't the only thing that put Ron in a good mood, though it was the major factor for it. The head chef had them perform what she called the "Soufflé test". Basically, make a soufflé, easy. She had tested numerous soufflés before she got to Ron.
When she tasted his, she made a face. "I'm disappointed, Ron." Ron was confused until she added, "You've just made your year that much harder for yourself; I will expect something this good every time."
The head chef walked away, and eventually, Ron realized she had complimented him. Many of his fellow students gave him a clap on the back or a thumbs up. The night was going great for Ron Stoppable.
There was only one real thing that was unsettling in his moment of glory. Two guys stood near the back of the room. They were both dressed oddly for a culinary institute. Who wears leather to a cooking class? They did not speak to anyone and barely spoke to each other.
Despite the two unsettling characters, Ron was in too good a mood to worry.
That had changed in a big hurry.
Ron was sharing his soufflé with some of the other students when the twin oak doors burst open. Two men, one with a large, hooked nose and curly, 'greasy to the point of nausea', black hair, the other with crew-cut blonde hair, ramrod straight posture, and expressionless features, looked upon the confused and scared individuals.
Neither man spoke. Before the doors had hit the walls, the two had ventilated them, sending people flying every which way trying to get to safety. Ron had to thank his Mystical Monkey Powers for his survival. He had always had a knack for dodging things, but were it not for his MMP, he knew he would've been another human model of Swiss cheese.
He fell to the floor and watched in horror as all the cooks around him collapsed, their bodies filled with more holes than a colander. The floor was quickly turning red, and Ron was finding it difficult to keep from throwing up.
Crawling under a table, he used his MMP to hide inside the lip of the table as silent tears coursed down his cheeks.
God, you answered my prayers once, and I really hope you will again. Just let me see Kim one last time.
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The taxi Wade had called to give Kim a lift was flying through traffic, only narrowly avoiding accidents and not even attempting to slow down. It ran red light after red light and screamed across turf and asphalt. The cops that had started chasing them gave up as their engines maxed out and still could not put them alongside the cab, but it still didn't feel fast enough to Kim.
She had never been so afraid in her life. She had fought freaks the world over, been through climates Man was not meant to brave, battled Henchmen, fought against Shego on numerous occasions, and faced every kind of doomsday device ever created, some on several occasions. Yet, she had willingly taken these risks herself; she had never asked anyone to take these kinds of risks for her. Now, Ron was in a very bad sitch, one that was not of her doing and that she could not control. She kept staring out the window, willing the cab to go faster, to somehow break the laws of physics and get her to him in the blink of an eye.
Please, God, don't let him die.
Tears welled behind her eyes, but she forced them down. Crying so would not help at this point.
At last, she saw the culinary institute. It was a moderate-looking building, only five stories tall with a flat roof and a design common of many of the older buildings in this part of the city. The large windows were dark, save for a handful in the northeast corner.
A few police cars had been arranged around the building, and a helicopter flew over the blocked-off street. As the cab came to a halt, Kim opened her door and fired her grappling gun. The hook found purchase on the roof, and with a whirr, the device yanked her up.
The cab driver knew she hadn't paid her fare, but after what she had done for him, he wouldn't have asked her for it. She hadn't thanked him for the lift, but he knew she had a lot on her mind. That computer kid had explained everything before he had picked her up.
The driver reached for the prayer beads hanging from his rear-view mirror. Gripping them tightly in his hands, he offered a quick prayer for her and her friend.
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Ron had been terrified when the gunman had opened up. Gunfire, especially when it's coming at you, is a little unnerving.
Now, though, the two men had stopped firing, and if anything, that was even more unnerving.
The two pairs of boots clomped on the now-silent floor of the kitchen. Each man moved from one side to the other, and Ron decided to sneak a peek.
He was shocked to see them checking each and every body. At last, the men started to speak.
"This is insane, man. Why can't she just be satisfied with what we bring her?" Big Nose complained, his wheeze making it sound like he had a perpetual cold. His accent seemed Italian, but combined with the nasal wheezing and a rather high-pitched voice, it was a bit harder to tell.
"She's not satisfied because you keep bringing her drug addicts and the like. She deserves better than that." Crew-cut answered him in the accent common among English thugs. His last remark was said with enough sarcasm to make Ron realize that he didn't agree with "her" logic.
"You know, she forbids the rest of us from feeding on live'uns." Big Nose complained. "I don't know why we've got to settle for packaged and chilled while she gets fresh and in its God-given container."
"Because she's in charge, that's why." Crew-cut answered, turning over another body. Big Nose just snorted, an impressive sound with his honker, and looked over another body. "Christ, man," Crew-cut said, "did you use enough bullets? I think there might be half an organ intact."
"Hey, sue me if I'm not as good a shot as you." Big Nose retorted. Considering the jumpy contents of his stomach, Ron gave a very quick glance to where he heard the voices and noticed the bodies to his left had only one hole a piece, either in the heart or the head. Those to his right had at least five, at least from where he could see; one had been practically shredded.
Oh, God, I'm going to be sick, Ron thought as he struggled to hold on to his stomach's contents.
He listened with nervousness as the two men walked by his table far more slowly than he would have liked. Once the men had passed, he started to relax, only to have a large hand reach under, grab his ankle and slam him into the floor, bruising his spine on the support.
He was dragged out from under the table and looked up into the greasy face of Big Nose.
"Look, this one's alive and don't even got a hole in'em! He's perfect!"
Ron had no idea what these men were talking about, but he was sure he wasn't going to like it. He kicked out at Big Nose and caught him in the throat. As the large man gasped, Ron rolled over and ran for the door, slipping and sliding on the bloody floor.
Before he made it to the door, however, Crew-cut had blocked his way. One hit to the chest was enough to send Ron crashing to the ground, stunned. No way he could have moved in front of me like that.
Crew-cut yanked Ron off the ground, then turned to his companion. "When the hell are you going to learn that you should never underestimate anyone?"
Ron started to struggle again, which was promptly rewarded with a crack to the skull from the butt of Crew-cut's gun.
The last thing Ron saw before he slipped into unconsciousness was a flash of red emerging from the blackness of the hall.
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Despite her urge to get to Ron as soon as possible, Kim stayed in the shadows, trying to assess the sitch. Men with guns were so much different from men with stun-staves or half-assed martial arts moves. All it took was one good shot and she would be no different from the other two dozen corpses littering the crimson-coloured linoleum. It wasn't until she saw the big man with the crew-cut knock out her Ron with the butt of his gun that she saw red, prompting her to action. To say Kim was a little pissed would have been like saying the Great Wall of China was little more than a fence; to the two men, she looked down right feral.
"Put him down now!" she shouted at the thugs.
The two men seemed frozen in place, save for the arms that raised their guns.
Kim fired her grappling hook at the ceiling and yanked herself up just as the two men opened fire. Swinging with all her might, she landed between the two. A roundhouse disarmed Crew-cut and sent him and Ron across the room.
Turning to the other thug, she landed three blows- a kick to disarm him, a punch to the stomach to force him to bend over, and finally, a knee to the face. As the man fell to the floor, clutching his furiously bleeding nose, she turned to the first thug.
He had stood up and was watching her carefully. "Very impressive." he said as he slipped out of his large coat. "I haven't had a real challenge in years."
Kim dropped into a fighting stance. "Are you going to fight or just talk? 'Cause I really don't have time for talking."
"Don't worry, bitch; I'm game."
With that, the man moved towards Kim far faster than she had been expecting, indeed faster than any human should have been able to. He aimed a punch for her head, which she ducked underneath and then tried a sweep kick at his legs.
He didn't jump over her legs, but instead caught her ankle and swung her around, giving her a good beating from the tables. Kim was reeling from the multiple blows, but quickly composed herself. She kicked out between his legs, connecting with her target. He howled, let go of her and grabbed his injury. This guy is good, she thought to herself.
He finally stood up with something that was halfway between a snarl and a smirk on his face. "You're going to pay for that, you stupid bitch.
"You know, I'm really getting tired of that word."
The man smiled at that, "Would you prefer slut instead?"
Oh, it's on, Kim thought. She tried a high kick for his head, but he blocked it and tried to punch her in the stomach. Kim caught his fist and landed her blow where she had just injured him. The man's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but he didn't fall down. "Hard enough?" she asked in biting sarcasm mixed with just a little rage.
The man just growled, and his attacks came faster than ever before. It was all Kim could do to avoid each move. Punch, block, kick, block, roundhouse, dodge, sweep kick, dodge. I can't keep this up forever, she thought. Kim knew there was only one way to win this fight and she really wouldn't like it.
Kim has been trained in sixteen kinds of Kung Fu, though her most highly utilized style was the Mantis Style, despite what she had told Hirotaka about dabbling. Based on the moves of a Praying Mantis, such aggressive style was designed to allow someone to take on someone much larger than themselves. This was what made the style an ideal one for the petit cheerleader.
However, in each kind of Kung Fu, there are five different forms: the drunken form, which involves a lot of false stepping to throw your opponent off balance as well as focusing on groin, eye, and throat shots. The standing form, which was specifically designed for tall people, so that they may take advantage of their longer reach. The crafty form, in which your moves are purposefully clumsy, to give the impression of weakness, so that you can retaliate with striking force when it is least expected (this style had proven most useful with Shego). The wood form, which is the most aggressive and least subtle of the forms, and last but not least, the fifth, and by far, Kim's most hated, was stone form.
The stone form involved a rather blunt objective- to purposefully leave a spot on your body vulnerable to attack. When your opponent hits that spot, you take advantage of the opening in their defences and strike; the downside was that you would be struck first. Of course, getting struck at all did not appeal to Kim.
This is going to hurt like hell, Kim thought as she switched tactics. Three punches and a kick came at her in rapid succession, all of which she blocked easily. At last, a punch aimed at her opening came and struck her. The result was not what she had expected.
She had known the blow was going to hurt, but she had not expected it to hurt that much. Perhaps most surprising about the resultant wound was the loud snap; that, combined with the pain made Kim realize she had broken a rib. There is no way a normal person can hit someone like that and break a rib, she thought. Thoughts of retaliation left her mind; learning how to breathe again was first and foremost. Her opponent was not willing to give her that kind of a break, though.
Before she could even gasp, he had made his way behind her and picked her off the ground. He took hold of her left arm and cleanly broke it. "I told you you'd were going to pay for that one."
Kim had not believed that kind of pain was possible. Tears of agony fell from her eyes, and her opponent threw her into the column in the center of the room, aggravating her injuries more.
A huffing sound came from Crew-cut's side, and he turned to see Big Nose next to him, both guns in his hands. The blood around his nose had dried, but he looked mad as a rabid beast.
"I say we kill the redhead."
Crew-cut never had time to answer that as a low growl came from behind them. The two turned white (well, whiter) and turned. Kim had never taken her eyes off the two of them and couldn't believe what she was seeing.
A great beast stood before them; its heavily muscled form was covered with fine, sparse hair. Its great hands ended in massive talons, and its elongated snout was lined with fangs, some of which had to be at least half an inch long. It was unlike anything Kim had ever seen, and she'd seen a lot. It's like some cross between a wolf, a cat, and a bodybuilder, Kim thought. Professor Dementor would be envious of this thing. Perhaps most bizarre was that the beast appeared to be in a leather jacket.
The two men blinked before Big Nose shouted "Lycan!" Crew-cut grabbed the gun from Big Nose's left hand and, after ejecting the still full clip (Why on earth would he do that?), he slammed in a new one while Big Nose opened fire.
With a roar that shook the glass (and cleaned out Big Nose's bladder), the Lycan leaped towards the two. With a swing of its massive paw, it knocked Crew-cut's gun to the east wall, and Crew-cut himself was sent flying to the west wall, near Ron.
The beast grabbed Big Nose's hand, his talons cutting through the flesh easily. In pain, Big Nose dropped the gun, and as he screamed, the beast clamped its fangs into his throat and began sucking deeply and messily. Kim felt no other recourse and threw up.
Crew-cut had by now gotten up. Grabbing Ron, he looked at Kim with relish. "See you in hell, bitch." He said as he ran out the fire door, leaving Kim alone with this thing.
His first meal dead, the Lycan now turned to Kim. Kim spotted the gun lying next to the east wall. Drawing her grapple gun, she fired as the Lycan leapt. The micro-motor dragged her out of the rampaging beast's way just in time. She picked up the gun in her good hand and, turning it towards the Lycan, fired as it leapt at her once again. As the first bullets hit its form, it slammed into her, sending the two of them through the east wall and into the room beyond.
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Kim woke up in very little pain. It was so dark. She could barely breathe.
Why can't I breathe?
Oh, good Lord, it's on top of me.
Pushing with all her might, she could not budge the heavy form on top of her. She soon realized why- its teeth were clamped around her head.
Prying open the jaws of this creature was perhaps the hardest thing Kim had ever done; even so, she opened the jaws and shoved them to her side.
Everywhere she looked, she saw blood; and yet, it did not matter.
A sight she had never seen before occurred right before her eyes- the beast slowly but surely transformed into a man. And yet, it did not matter.
Why am I so apathetic? Why do I not feel any pain?
Kim realized in the same apathetic way she had seen everything else… I'm dying.
The blood on the floor was, for the most part, hers. Her left arm wasn't moving; she couldn't see out of her left eye. Each breath shot pain through her body, but the pain was dulled and growing weaker by the moment. As she looked down, she saw all eight of the man/beast's fingers were lodged in her shoulders… and she couldn't feel them.
Sirens came from the street, growing louder and louder. Kim would have laughed if it were possible.
I've lost too much blood. They'll never get here in time.
Kim wanted to fight, but she knew in her soul that she couldn't.
I'm dying.
Death wasn't so bad, she realized. The pain was fading; her nightmare had ended. She had led a good life; she had helped a lot of people and had no regrets.
That wasn't true; she did have one regret. She regretted being unable to save Ron.
Ron.
Her best friend since Pre-K.
Her boyfriend since junior prom.
Her lover since senior prom.
Her future husband.
She should have felt sad, but in truth, she felt nothing.
Nothing as the blackness claimed her.
Nothing except a deep love of Ron as a song she thought she had forgotten played through her head.