Usual Legal Crapola:
Alright… alright! I realize that nobody likes disclaimers. As literary devices go they're akin to a speed bump in your driveway, and in terms of enjoyment they rank somewhere between watching linoleum peel and being examined by a proctologist with bad depth perception.
However, the "House of Mouse" has a great many lawyers, and with their recent purchase of Marvel Comics they also have the X-Men, who I have been assured will personally come and kick my ass if I don't print this. So if we'll all just settle down and listen up, we can get through this quickly and move on to the reason that we're really here.
Kim Possible and all related matters are the sole property the Disney Corporation and their small army of attorneys. All rights are reserved by and for them. I personally get nothing out of this project, except for maybe a sense of personal satisfaction and the chance to look busy at my computer. (What the boss doesn't know, yadda yadda yadda…)
Any attempts to profit from the ideas and images contained herein will be met with malicious action of a litigious nature, and any other big, scary-sounding legal words I can think of. No purchase necessary, see store for details, void where prohibited, all rights reserved, so there!
On with the show…
~ Chapter Two ~
It came swiftly, striking without warning like a thief in the night. Like a giant tsunami spawned by some distant temblor, it rose up from the sea and crashed upon the shore with merciless efficiency, sweeping over the land and laying waste to all things foolish enough to stand against its overwhelming and unquestionable power.
For more than two centuries, the Knights of Rhodighan had held fast to their vow. Nursing age-old grudges as they passed them from one generation to the next, they bided their time and gathered their forces, moving so slowly on occasion that many believed them to have given up their vendetta entirely.
But there is a distinct difference between lying down and lying low, and the Rhodighan Knights understood this intimately. Like the river crocodile that pretends to be a harmless log, there is value in appearing innocuous. For the age-old dance of threat and defense is set to the tune of perception, and that tune can take many forms. Ambitious participants study the dance card ravenously until they have memorized every step and note…
Experienced ones tip the bandleader.
For at the end of the day, the ancient adage still rings true: Old memories seldom fade, and bad habits die hard.
And so it was that to spite decade upon decade of threat and suspicion, when the Knights finally launched their masterstroke and claimed their long-sought vengeance, hardly anyone was expecting it. The armed forces of the island, poorly trained and even more poorly equipped, were quickly brushed aside by rank upon rank of autonomous battle droids, backed up by units of elite shock troops bearing weapons and training that would be the envy of any modern military. With the precision and efficiency of a world-class surgeon, they carved a bloody path through the limited resistance, bypassed a shell-shocked citizenry and seized all points of strategic importance. Transportation and communication networks were seized, as were power distribution and law enforcement facilities. All institutions of power and civil authority had capitulated within a few hours, and by noon the enemy was within the walls of the royal compound itself. The day that had dawned so bright for King Wallace II had turned into a living nightmare: Himself and his entire family placed under house arrest, prisoners within their own home.
…And all of it before lunch.
Purposefully stalking through the sterile corridors of the massive complex, a tall, slender figure cut a swath of confidence as it passed swiftly through a labyrinth of corridors and hallways. On the occasions when others encountered this image of authority, they smartly drew themselves to attention and yielded the way, some even going so far as to salute. Everything about this person, from their dress to the way they carried themselves screamed of someone who carried the mantle of command and demanded the respect of all others. This was a person in control.
Turning a corner and ducking into a spacious office, she allowed the door to fully close behind her before she dared let the carefully polished aura slip. Being the Director in Charge of the world's pre-eminent law enforcement agency was no small task after all. The demands carried by the position were mind numbing in both their scope and frequency, and she was only human. She could only hold the façade for so long before reality would eventually peek through.
With a mighty sigh, Betty Director slid down into the oversized captain's chair and glanced across the expansive desk before her. For once, the view actually brought a slight smile to her face: At least half of the polished mahogany surface was visible today, a figure vastly improved from most days when more than 80% of the finely-finished wood was obscured by one mountain of paper or another. Admittedly, the world had been a somewhat quieter place than usual for the past few weeks, and it was something that she took a slightly guilty pleasure in. When the people and politicians of the world finally decided to be nice and play well with others, her job became a whole lot easier.
But on a deeper level, she couldn't help but feel somehow apprehensive about it all. For in her own past experience, such good fortune also carried with it an ominous implication: a promise that the other shoe was about to drop.
Any further rumination on the subject was cut short by a sharp knocking at her office door. Quickly drawing herself upright in the chair, she re-assumed the aura of authority with the speed and efficiency of a quick-change actor switching costumes, and bid her guest to enter.
"Good morning Ma'am." The young and slender man with vaguely Asian features stated in a stiff monotone that gave no indication as to whether the morning was truly good or not.
"Good morning, Agent Du." Betty reciprocated. "Or it will be if you brought the item we discussed previously.
"Right here, precisely as you requested." Will Du snappily replied, setting a large, ceramic mug down on the polished surface of the desk. "Double sugar, double cream."
"Mmmmm. Remind me to put you down for a commendation." Betty said, eagerly accepting the offering. Somehow, she just didn't feel like herself until she'd had her morning pick-me-up.
"So are we ready to proceed then?" she casually asked after taking a long, luxurious pull from her cup.
"Indeed we are, ma'am." Will confirmed. "I have all the materials required for your morning briefing right here." For effect, he patted the manila folder that had been tucked snugly beneath his arm since he had entered.
"Very well then. Proceed."
Withdrawing the folder and smartly flipping it open, he took a moment to study the first page before starting.
"As you're already aware, ma'am," Will started in, "the world's supervillains have been maintaining a low profile as of late. We believe this is due to several factors, including seasonal climate changes, recent increases in sunspot activity, and anticipation surrounding the release of HenchCo's new fall lineup."
"Anything special this year?" Betty asked, taking another sip of coffee.
"For the most part, their product line appears unchanged. However, intel suggests that they will be introducing a new line of energy-star qualified death rays. Oh, and the catalogue will be using a new high-gloss paper this year."
"Wow. The printing's gonna cost them plenty."
"Retail is all about presentation, ma'am."
"Very well. What else?"
"Security at the pentagon was breached yesterday by two hip-looking teenagers with a pack of mentos."
"Pass."
"The President's speech to the U.N. General Counsel was last night, as you're aware." Will continued. "Highlights include his statements welcoming foreign dignitaries to New York and inviting them to get out and do some shopping while they're there."
"And how well did that go over?"
"A little too well, it would appear. The Chinese bought eight banks, two car companies and the state of Wyoming."
"Figures." Betty groaned, burying her face into her cup once more. "Anything else?"
"Well, there is this one item that some clerk over in European Diplomatic Affairs slipped in at the last moment." Will informed. "It's probably not even worth mentioning, though."
"And yet you mention it."
"Well I didn't get to be a top agent by not being thorough."
"And you also didn't get there by keeping your boss in the dark." Betty replied, narrowing her one good eye at her young protégé.
"Yes. Well, (ahem), it's a rather short brief… really." Will nervously stammered. "A brief brief, if you will."
"I won't."
"Of course you won't. Anyway, it simply says that there's a developing situation in a small Mediterranean nation. Some place called…" He squinted at the paper before him, trying hard to make out the clerks hurried chicken scratches.
"Rhodighan." He finally determined. He then stared at the paper in utter confusion.
"Where the heck is Rhodighan?" he pondered aloud. "Isn't that a place in some C. S. Lewis novel or something?"
"Trust me, it's real." Betty admitted. "Although you're not the first one to think otherwise. Does the report say anything else?"
"Just an event code." Will replied. "If I'm reading this right, of which I can only be about eighty percent certain, it claims a code 'Bent Spear – Echo Five Foxtrot.'"
Betty spit a mouthful of coffee across her desk.
"Ma'am?" Will asked concernedly, moving to his commanding officer's side. "Are you all right?"
Betty simply waved the junior officer off.
"I'm fine, agent Du." She coughed, quickly regaining her breath. "But I want you to clear my schedule for the rest of the day. And tell the division chiefs for European Operations, Central Intelligence, Combat Ops and Diplomatic Protocol that I want to see them in my office five minutes ago!"
"Yes ma'am!"
"And get the Secretary General on a secure video conference line, stat! I don't care if you have to drag him out of the damn bathtub to do it!"
"Right away, ma'am." Will confirmed, turning to leave as Betty began frantically clearing items from her already sparsely populated desk. But when he reached for the doorknob, he felt compelled to stop and look back.
"Doctor Director?" he asked. "Just what exactly is happening right now?"
"Trouble." Betty replied succinctly. "Trouble of the worst kind."
"Two pairs of tube socks, a gallon of concentrated processed cheese sauce and the "Bricks of Furry" DVD box set. That'll be $26.53."
"Not if I use my Smarty Mart employee discount."
"Very well… Ten percent off then. Do you collect our 'Smarty-Saver' stamps?"
"Doesn't everybody?"
"I'll take that as a yes." The checker sighed, subtly glancing at her watch and grimacing when she realized just how young the day actually was. "Will there be anything else, sir?"
"Yeah, actually. Do you have any snew?"
"Snew?" the checker blinked. "What's snew?"
"Oh, nothing… What's new with you?" The young man in front of her grinned, waggling his eyebrows.
The next thing he knew, the world around him went dark as an entire sheet of discount redemption stamps was roughly plastered over his face.
"Next!"
The young customer sighed dejectedly and made his way toward the exit, navigating from pure memory, his impromptu blindfold negating any visual cues.
"Seriously Rufus, why do those things always sound funnier when they're still in my head?" he asked dejectedly, once he was safely outside the store.
"Hurk, dunno." The tiny mole rat squeaked, climbing atop his owner's forehead. He spit into his paws and took a firm grip on the offending item before giving a mighty tug.
"YEEEE-OWCH!" Ron shrieked at the sudden stinging sensation. He quickly reached up to rub his now reddening cheek. "Well at least I won't have to worry about shaving for the rest of the week."
"I don't think so, beard-boy." A familiar voice suddenly called out from behind him. "Or else it's ixnay in the lip-smacking department."
"Oh, hey KP." Ron replied, turning around, still rubbing his sore face. "Didn't see you back there."
"That's not surprising. From what I just saw, it looked like you were trying to mail yourself." Kim panned. "So what happened?"
"Nothing big. Just a slight misunderstanding at the check out counter."
"Trying to be witty with the cashiers again?"
"Affirmative." He groused.
"Ugh… Ron, don't you remember what happened last time you tried that?"
"Aw geez, did you have to bring that up? I swear, you get stuffed inside one plushie prize machine and people never let you forget about it!"
"Not when they're the one that had to spend eight bucks in quarters to get you out, they don't."
"Okay, okay… Fair enough I guess." Ron finally conceded, anxious for a switch to a less embarrassing topic. "Although to be totally honest, you could have been more careful with that claw thing. I had the mother of all wedgies for a week after that."
"You know, I thought you were walking funny."
"Sister, you don't know the half of it."
"So anyway," Kim shifted, "what are your plans for the afternoon."
"Meh, dunno." Ron shrugged. "Getting my shopping done was pretty much tops on the list. After that, I hadn't really gamed it out yet."
"Cool! Wanna catch a movie?"
"Wait! You're not working today?"
"Nope. Inventory went so well that we finished up early." Kim gushed. "Since that was the only reason Monique had me on the schedge, she told me to take the day."
"Coolio!"
"I know. Isn't it?"
"So what do you wanna see?"
"I was thinking maybe that one you've been going on about lately." Kim suggested. "You know… The one with Michael Douglas, Charlie Sheen and Freddie Krueger."
"You mean 'A Nightmare on Wall Street: Freddy Invests'?" Ron enthused. "Badical! That thing's got everybody in it!"
"Everybody?" Kim raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, maybe not everybody." Ron admitted. "But it's got a ton of big names. Jack Nicholson as the sadistic stockbroker… Nathan Lane as the hapless SEC agent… Bernie Madoff as himself…"
"Ugh. Please Ron… I just ate." Kim protested.
"Oh, sorry." Ron apologized, quickly picking up on his girlfriend's discomfort. "You really sure you wanna see this one?"
"Sure, why not?" Kim admitted with a shrug. "After all… You're the one who will be facing the screen."
"Huh? What's that supposed to mean, 'I'm the one who will be…' oh… ooooooooohhhhh…" His sentence trailed off as he grasped the not-so-hidden meaning in Kim's words: Something that drew a lascivious look from her and a blush to beat all blushes from him.
"If we hurry, we can catch the matinee showing at the mall." Kim said huskily.
"Uh… ummm… Yeah! We can (cough) catch it there, at the… (ahem)… place." Ron stammered in a just barely coherent fashion.
*Beep-beep-dee-beep*
"Or Wade could chime in." he groaned, his momentarily lapse in speaking ability suddenly gone.
Raising her wrist to her face, Kim took a moment to shoot the offending device a glare that would have put a glacier to shame, then keyed the "acknowledge" button to receive the call.
"What's the sitch, Wa… wa… ahhhhh… Doctor Director?" Kim stammered in shock at the eye patch-clad figure that stared back at her from the Kimmunicator's diminutive screen. This was not the greeting she had been expecting.
Fortunately, the same could not be said for the head of Global justice, who seemed completely unfazed by Kim's awkward greeting.
"Greetings, Kimberly." Betty Director began in her characteristically professional tone. "I trust you are doing well?"
"We are for now." Ron pointed out, sliding up behind Kim. "But somehow, whenever you call us, that ship tends to sail."
"Ron! Some professional courtesy, please?" Kim admonished in a coarse whisper.
"Good afternoon to you as well, Ronald." Betty replied. "And for the record, Kimberly, your partner is unfortunately correct in his assessment." She admitted.
"Figures." Kim sighed. Like it or not, Ron was right: When one received a personal call from Betty Director on a secure line, it was never good news.
"So what's the sitch?" she finally asked, silently slipping into mission mode.
"There's been a major political development in southern Europe." Betty explained. "There's not a lot I can tell you over these channels, but the assistance of Team Possible is being requested."
"Is this request a local authorities thing or a Global Justice thing?" Kim asked, already wondering what her team's role would be in any operation with geo-political overtones.
"Both." Was Betty's matter-of-fact reply.
"Whoa. Heavy!" Ron gasped.
"Ditto." Kim agreed.
"As it stands right now," the one-eyed crime czar continued, "you're both to report for duty aboard the Thor, at which time you'll receive a more thorough briefing. That is, of course, if you're willing to accept the mission."
"Wait! You're giving us a choice?" Kim asked. "Usually with these things you just fill us in and we go."
"True," Betty admitted, "but this mission goes beyond your normal scope of operation."
"H-h-how far beyond?" Ron nervously asked.
"I'm not at liberty to say right now." Betty somberly admitted. "But needless to say, if either of you don't feel comfortable taking on this assignment, our organization will be more than understanding."
Those words gave Kim pause. Although she hadn't said as much, the tone in Betty's voice more than indicated the true gravity of whatever it was that was being asked of them. There was no way of knowing what this road held in store for them, but it was a near certainty that it would be challenging: Perhaps the most challenging thing she had ever attempted.
Uncertainty was an unusual and uncomfortable position for Kim to find herself in, but that was exactly where she now stood. With grave consequences to both sides and painfully little information to go on, she was effectively shooting blind: Set to make a potentially monumental decision with the academic equivalent of a coin flip.
Plaintively, she glanced over to where Ron stood, searching for answers in those deep brown eyes that always held so much certainty for her, even when all else was in doubt.
"Do what you think is best." Ron softly said, laying a gentle and reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Whichever you decide… I'm with you."
The smile that creased her lips was brief but meaningful, conveying all the love and gratitude her heart had to offer. That was all she needed to know: That Ron was with her. As long as she had that, then she could truly do anything.
"Alright, we're in." she stated emphatically, returning her focus to the tiny device on her wrist. "Just tell us when and where."
"Our technicians are patching the pertinent data through to your plane's onboard nav systems now." Betty informed. "Everything should be ready to go by the time you get there."
"Copy that. You can contact your field commanders and tell them we're on our way." Kim snappily replied.
"Very well then. Good luck, Team Possible." the Director answered. "Betty Director, over and out!"
"C'mon Ron! Time's a-wasting!" Kim prodded, slinging her purse over her shoulder and starting back toward her car.
"I still wanna see that movie." Ron groused under his breath, dutifully following the receding form of his girlfriend, although at a somewhat more sedate pace.
Author's Notes:
Well, I guess there's really not that much to talk about here. Everything so far seems pretty self explanatory: After more than two centuries of waiting, the Knights of Rhodighan have finally made good on their threat. (Do these guys know how to hold a grudge or what?) As expected, the international community is appalled by such a brazen act of aggression, and its up to the ever-vigilant members of Global Justice to set things right…
And when the sitch gets dicey, who you gonna call? (No, not the Ghostbusters, smart alecks.) It's everyone's favorite world-saving duo, Team Possible to the rescue! (Wherever freedom is threatened… wherever tyranny reigns… wherever free nacos are being offered… blah, blah, blah…)
Let's just hope that Kim took some advanced placement courses for that international diplomacy degree. Methinks she's gonna need them.
And so ends chapter two of our little tale. Tune in next time when somebody says something to someone. (I'm still working on the details.)
Peace, love, recycle and all that jazz!
Nutzkie…