Author's Note: Originally, I was entertaining the idea of modifying this rewrite enough to keep it within the T-rated standards. I now feel, however, that to do so would detract too much from the unique and authentic feel of the story. With that in mind, this is going to be the last T-rated chapter in the story; chapter 3 and on will be M-rated, though only due to language and violence... there will be no gratuitous sex, and the swearing and violence that will be present won't be too over-the-top.
Special thanks to those of you who took the time to review: MrDrP, Classic Cowboy, Canadian Crow, mattb3671, BrattyBrina, and Godhand's Number. And thanks to everyone else who has read this, I hope you are enjoying it.
Chapter Two
– Possible Residence –
(Middleton, Colorado – June 3 05:58)
Kim awoke the next morning to the gentle sound of birds chirping outside her bedroom window. After a few minutes in bed, she rose sleepily and walked over to the window. Looking out across the backyard, she could see the sun was just beginning to rise over Mt. Middleton and the reflection of the light off the morning dew gave everything a serene glisten.
For a few seconds, she actually smiled and began wondering what she was going to wear to school. Her cheery attitude, however, was instantly shattered by the muffled sound of a police radio coming from somewhere downstairs. She had no idea what was being said, but the clearly foreign dialogue snapped her back to reality like an atomic bomb detonating.
As the events of the previous day suddenly began replaying in her mind, Kim changed out of her pajamas and got into the shower. With the sound of running water acting as a sound barrier from the rest of the house, Kim finally allowed her emotions to catch up with her and began to cry.
At first it was just a silent whimper, but as the images of her destroyed living room and her mother losing control continued to play in her mind, the whimpers soon turned to sobs and she sank to the ground. Pulling her knees up into her chest, Kim allowed her own tears to mix with the steady flow of hot water that was coming out of the showerhead above her.
She had never felt so helpless and useless in her entire life. The fact that her father was being held captive and she couldn't do a damn thing about it was the worst feeling imaginable. She was Kim Possible; she could do anything! And yet here she was: curled up in a ball and crying in the shower.
After a few minutes, she began to regain control, and her feelings of uselessness transformed into a renewed sense of determination.
Federal investigation or not, she told herself, there was no way she was going to let some suit-wearing government agent keep her out of the investigation.
Kim Possible was going to rescue her father, whether the FBI liked it or not…
---
Ten minutes later, as Kim made her way down the stairs toward the living room, her thoughts once again drifted back to the events of the previous day.
"…any attempt by you or anyone else to interfere with our investigation, good intentions or not, will be met with severe consequences," Agent Pollard's warning echoed in her head.
'What was that all about?' she thought. 'I hope he doesn't actually expect me to sit back and do nothing to help get dad back safely.'
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Kim glanced into the now re-opened living room. The lab technicians had finished processing the room shortly before ten o'clock the night before and, after removing the broken furniture and righting the couch, Andrea had decided to let the police and FBI use the room as their temporary command post.
There were six computers set up on the newly replaced coffee table as well as a high-tech tracking and listening device wired to the phone. Two agents were sitting on the couch quietly discussing the outcome of the previous night's football game, and Ron was asleep on a nearby recliner snoring loudly. It appeared that someone––possibly one of the agents––had tried to silence her friend's snoring by taping his mouth shut with a piece of red evidence tape. The tape, however, was now hanging loosely from his lower lip; allowing Ron to continue his loud snoring unhindered. Rufus was asleep next to him on top of one of the computer monitors.
Kim smiled to herself before continuing down the hall toward the kitchen.
In the kitchen, she found her mom leaning against the sink talking with Agent Pollard, who was seated at the kitchen table. They both had coffee mugs in their hands and, Kim observed with disgust, the agent was drinking out of her father's personal mug.
"Making yourself right at home, aren't you, Sean," Kim said from the doorway.
"Good morning, Kimmie," Ann greeted as her daughter walked into the room.
"Hey, mom," Kim replied with a forced smile, "how are you feeling this morning?"
"A little better," she admitted, gesturing toward the agent. "Sean here says we should hear from them in a few days."
Agent Pollard nodded silently before taking a sip of coffee.
"So I've heard," Kim replied sarcastically. "By the way, where are the Tweebs? I haven't seen or heard from them since yesterday morning."
"Jim and Tim are staying with their friend, Adam, for a few days," replied Ann. "Just until everything calms down around here."
The neurosurgeon finished her cup of coffee and turned to put the empty mug in the sink.
"By the way, Ron is still here. His parents gave him permission to stay here for a few days to help out."
As if on queue, Ron walked into the room with Rufus on his shoulder.
"Morning y'all," he announced with a yawn, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"Hey, Ron," Kim greeted, giving her friend a warm smile before turning her attention to Sean, who had begun reading the morning paper. "So, Agent Pollard, you got any updates for me?"
Sean looked up at Kim and took another sip of coffee.
"Unfortunately there's nothing new to report right now," he answered. "As I told you last night we recovered a number of latent fingerprints from the living room. However, we've since matched them all to members of your family."
"So in other words you've got nothing," Kim replied bitterly. After his threat the previous evening, Kim had developed an instant dislike for the cocky young agent, and her feelings were apparent in her tone.
"Kimberly Ann Possible, don't be rude!" her mother scolded. She, like most parents, tended to only use her daughter's full name when she was angry with her. "Sean here is working as hard as he can to see that this ends quickly and peacefully."
Agent Pollard gave Kim a conceited smirk before returning to his paper.
"Whatever," Kim mumbled under her breath. She grabbed Ron by the arm and headed off toward the door. "C'mon, Ron, let's get outta here. I feel like getting some fresh air."
"I wouldn't recommend leaving the house right now," Sean yelled to them as they entered the hallway.
"And why is that?"
"See for yourself," he replied, gesturing towards the kitchen window.
Kim and Ron walked back and glanced out the window. Outside, the already crowded street had been completely blocked with the arrival of the media. Kim counted at least five small news vans in front of her house. Though a couple of them were local, most of the others appeared to have come down from nearby Denver. As she surveyed the scene, a large satellite news truck appeared around the corner and pulled to a stop down the street.
"Whoa, even CNN is here," Ron noted as he and Rufus stared out the window, fascinated by the growing scene.
"As you can see, you're probably better off staying here for the time being," Sean announced, walking up next to them and rinsing his cup out in the sink. "Those guys can make vultures seem cute and cuddly by comparison!"
Kim turned and headed back towards the hallway.
"I'm heading up to my room," she announced to no one in particular.
As she left the room, Ron followed, catching up to her at the base of the stairs.
"What's wrong, Kim?" he asked with concern.
"I don't know," she replied with a sigh, "there's just something about that guy that makes me uneasy."
"He seems fine to me."
"I just feel like he's holding something back. I'm gonna have Wade check on some info for me."
Kim started up the stairs but Ron grabbed her arm to stop her.
"Kim, you said Sean told you not to get involved with this. Just let them handle everything!"
"Relax, Ron, I'm not gonna get involved," she reassured her friend. "I just want Wade to make sure they're not overlooking anything."
---
Kim and Ron were upstairs watching TV when the Kimmunicator beeped. She'd put in a call to Wade earlier asking him to do some digging, and she was hoping the request had paid off.
"Hey, Wade, got something?" she asked eagerly.
"As a matter of fact, I do," the twelve-year-old super-genius happily replied. "Remember how Agent Pollard told you that all of the fingerprints recovered had been matched to members of your family?"
"Yeah?"
"Well I accessed the Middleton Police Department's records and found that they recovered twenty-three different fingerprint patterns from your living room last night."
"And?" Kim asked, eager for him to get to the point.
"Well, the FBI only matched twenty-two of the prints. There's no record of the twenty-third one being entered or processed!"
Wade leaned back in his chair and grinned triumphantly before taking a sip from his Slurpster.
"Wade, is there any way you could locate and process the twenty-third print for me?"
"Already been done," the boy replied. "It'll take me some time to get the results back because I had to go through a third-party to have it analyzed."
"You rock hard-core, Wade!" Kim cheered before shutting off the Kimmunicator and turning to Ron, giving him an 'I-told-you-so' look.
"Just because they didn't run one little print doesn't mean they're hiding something," Ron tried to reassure his paranoid friend. "It was probably just another one of your family members' and they matched it by hand."
"We'll see," Kim said quietly.
---
"It was almost ten o'clock at-night when Wade finally called back. Kim was reading a book titled Kidnapping Procedures Manual that she had found downstairs, and Ron was sitting at her desk playing one of the many mindless shooting games he had installed, when the Kimmunicator beeped.
"Wade," Kim greeted, eager to find out what he'd found, "it's about time! What took you so long?"
"Sorry, Kim, but I told you it would take some time to get the results back."
Kim smiled and shook her head.
"Sorry, I'm just getting anxious sitting around like this."
"No big," Wade replied with a grin. "But you're never gonna guess what I found."
"The print doesn't belong to one of my family members?" Kim asked with optimism.
"Nope, it belongs to Officer William Kellerman of the Upperton Police Department."
All of Kim's excitement suddenly drained away.
"Officer Kellerman? Then that means… that means it was left by one of the cops after my dad was kidnapped!"
"Don't get upset yet," Wade urged. "Are you ready for some really shocking news?"
"What?"
"Officer Kellerman has been on administrative leave for the past two weeks due to an excessive-force charge against him. His fingerprint should not have been in your house."
"Well–"
"Wait, that's not all," the boy interrupted. "According to his file, Officer Kellerman used to work for the Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation. Do you wanna take a guess as to what his area of expertise was?"
"Let me guess," Kim said with renewed optimism, "he was on a Kidnapping Task Force?"
"Bingo. Apparently he had a fairly good track record until an incident three years ago. For some reason the case files have been sealed, but I do know that it had something to do with the death of a kidnapping victim. Shortly after that incident, Kellerman resigned and moved to Upperton where he was hired by the Upperton Police Department."
Wade sat back and took a sip from his drink, immensely pleased with his own work.
"Well," said Kim, leaving the Kimmunicator on her bed and heading towards her closet, "I think I need to go have a chat with Officer Kellerman."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Kim," Ron said in a concerned voice as his best friend began to change into her mission clothes.
"Ron's right, Kim," Wade agreed. "If he is involved in the kidnapping, he's probably dangerous. I really think you should tell the FBI about this."
"Seriously, Kim," Ron urged, "let the professionals handle Kellerman."
"If the FBI had done their damned jobs in the first place, they would already know about Kellerman's involvement," Kim snapped. She turned toward her friend and he could see that her eyes were burning with rage. "Besides, I need to make sure he wasn't here earlier before we do anything else. They may have called him in as a consultant or something."
Before Wade could argue further, Kim shut off the device and placed it in her pocket.
"Kim I–"
"I'll be fine, Ron," replied Kim, cutting him off. "I'll see you in a little while."
Ron stood up from the desk but it was too late. Before he could attempt to persuade her further, Kim opened her window and slipped outside into the night.
---
– 1143 Howe Ave. –
(Upperton, Colorado – June 3 22:55)
It was almost eleven o'clock by the time Kim arrived at her location: a small single-story residence along a quiet residential street on the eastern edge of Upperton. According to Wade, Kellerman was single and lived alone, so she predicted that he'd probably be alone in the house.
"Thanks for the lift, Mr. Marks," she said, exiting the minivan and turning toward the driver.
"It's the least I could do after you helped my daughter make the cheer squad, Kim," the man responded happily.
"No big, she wouldn't have made the cut if she didn't have the talent," Kim replied before the car pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the corner.
She approached the small ranch-style house and double-checked the address on the wall before pressing the doorbell and waiting for a response. After a few moments, she heard footsteps approaching and the door opened to reveal a man in his mid-thirties dressed in khaki shorts and a t-shirt.
"Can I help you?" the man asked with a slight hint of hostility in his voice.
"I'm sorry to bother you so late," Kim said in a soft and innocent tone, "but are you Officer William Kellerman?"
"Yes."
"My name's Kim Possible, I was hoping I could talk to you for a few minutes."
Kellerman's eyes widened for a moment before he smiled and nodded.
"Of course, come on in," he replied, gesturing for her to enter.
Leading her into his dining room, the man offered her a seat, which she accepted.
"I heard about what happened to your father today," he announced, taking a seat across the table from her. "If it's any comfort, I do have an idea of what you're going through."
"Yeah, I know," Kim acknowledged. "That's actually why I'm here. A friend of mine told me about your experience with the Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation, and I was hoping to get some insight from you as far as what to expect and what I can do to help."
Kellerman shot her a slightly confused look.
"I don't understand, isn't the FBI handling the investigation?"
"Well… yes," Kim replied bitterly, "but I'm beginning to doubt their good intentions. They want us to just sit around and wait for the kidnappers to call; they aren't doing anything to try to track them down."
For a moment, Kim thought she saw a smirk flash across the man's face, but it was gone too quickly for her to be sure. Instead, Officer Kellerman leaned forward and nodded sympathetically.
"I can understand your concern about the way things are being handled, but you should know that in my time with the Iowa DCI, I worked over a dozen kidnapping cases; most of them with, if not under, FBI assistance. Believe me when I tell you those guys may act like they got a broom handle up their asses most of the time, but they're still the best there is. I can also assure you that they will do their best to capture the men responsible for this. They're just waiting for your father's safe return before taking any action."
Kim leaned back in her chair and took a relaxed breath.
"Thank you, it's very reassuring to hear that from someone with your experience."
"Just glad I could help," Kellerman replied with a smile.
"By the way," Kim asked innocently, "are you assisting with the investigation?"
"Uh, no, unfortunately I'm about to leave on vacation."
This time it was Kim's turn to smirk.
'Gotcha, you scumbag,' she thought.
Pushing his chair out from under him, Kellerman stood suddenly and pointed towards the other room.
"I'm gonna get a cup of coffee. Do you want anything?"
"No thanks, I'm good."
"Alright, be back in a second," he said, turning and exiting the room.
Once he was gone, Kim stood slowly and took a look around at her surroundings. It was a pretty standard dining room, not much different in its layout than hers in fact. But there was one item of furniture that drew her attention.
In one of the corners, near the entryway to the living room, was a decorated oak cabinet about six feet tall and four feet wide. It had two large glass doors that opened outward and were engraved with various forms of wildlife. Inside the cabinet she could clearly see over a dozen different types of guns. There were about six handguns hanging off of hooks on one side, and an equal number of larger ones, both rifles and shotguns, leaning in a row on the other side.
Kim approached the cabinet and was reaching to open the doors when Kellerman returned.
"Are you a gun enthusiast, Miss Possible?" the officer asked.
Kim jumped and spun around to find the man standing behind her casually sipping his coffee.
"Oh no, I mean yes, I mean…well it's not that I don't like guns, it's just that I've never really dealt with them before," Kim stuttered, trying her best not to sound or look too worried.
"No problem." Officer Kellerman replied, gesturing toward the cabinet. "Feel free to take a look if you want. Don't worry, they're all unloaded."
Kim turned and opened the cabinet slowly. It wasn't that she didn't like guns; in fact there was something about them that had always fascinated her. It was just that she would never think of carrying one on a mission. She leaned down and picked up one of the larger guns, examining its weight and beautiful wood construction.
"That's a Springfield M1 Garand," Kellerman announced proudly. "My father carried that very same gun onto the beaches of Normandy, France during the Allied invasion on D-Day. It's a .30-06 caliber semi-automatic battle rifle with an eight-round clip. That model was the standard-issue rifle of the US Army until 1957."
While the man rattled off the gun's specs like an encyclopedia, Kim returned the rifle to its place and looked over the rest of the collection. In the far right corner of the rack, she noticed a smaller black rifle that looked ominously out of place with the other wood-stocked guns. Though she knew very little about guns, this one was hard not to recognize; she had seen it countless times before on the news, carried in the hands of American soldiers overseas.
"Is that an M16?" she asked, not taking her eyes off of the menacing-looking rifle.
"No, that's a CAR-15," Kellerman replied. "It's a civilian model. I was carrying that gun when we took your father yesterday."
Kim's chest tightened and a cold chill ran down her spine. She turned around just in time to find herself staring down the barrel of a small chrome handgun. Kellerman stared at her coldly from the other side of the weapon.
"Do you think I'm a god damn idiot, Possible?" he asked, taking a step towards her and forcing her against the dining room wall. "Did you really think I had no idea why you were here?"
Kim stood still, unable to move.
"Well, I guess I must give credit where credit's due," he said with a smirk. "After all, you obviously found more than the FBI did. Too bad about your dad though."
Kim's eyes widened in shocked horror.
"Oh don't worry, he was still alive last I heard. As soon as we get what we need though, he's a dead man," Kellerman said with a chuckle as he pulled the hammer back on his gun. "Oh well, at least he'll have you to keep him company in Hell."
Kim couldn't believe what was happening. This wasn't how it worked… the bad guy didn't just kill his captive. She had spent three years fighting super-villains and staring down death rays and doomsday devices, and now here she was, staring down the barrel of a gun, about to die at the hands of a madman ten-times more evil that Drakken.
Just as Kim was about to close her eyes and give in to the inevitable, there was a loud crash in the entryway and, before Kellerman could pull the trigger, several individuals in black tactical gear with FBI printed on their vests stormed the room. Before she could react, Kim found herself in the middle of a shouting match between the SWAT team and the crazed officer.
"Federal agents; drop your weapon!" the lead commando shouted at Kellerman.
"Fuck you, you ZOG storm troopers!" Kellerman shouted back, holding the gun above his head in a defiant gesture.
"C'mon, Bill," another commando pleaded, "don't do this, man! Just drop the gun!"
"It doesn't have to end like this!" the lead commando urged the gunman. "Just drop the gun, buddy; we can talk about this!"
"You'll never stop them!" Kellerman shouted, waiving the gun around above his head. "With Dr. Possible's research, we're finally able to finalize and carry out our purification of the races! No one will stop us…" he lowered the gun and pointed it at the commandos. "No one!"
The lead commando raised his rifle to eye-level and shouted, "Hit the deck, Possible!"
Due to the direct nature of the command, Kim finally snapped out of her shock and dropped to the floor, covering her face with her hands. Seconds later she heard a single gunshot, followed by several others in rapid succession. The noise was so intense she didn't even realize she was screaming until it was all over.
Before she could make any movements, her arms were suddenly jerked from in front of her face and restrained behind her back with a pair of flex-cuffs by one of the masked FBI agents. She turned her head and attempted to identify herself only to have his knee placed firmly against the back of her neck.
After being cuffed, Kim was yanked upright by the SWAT commando. As he led her out of the room, Kim caught a glimpse of Officer Kellerman's body. The ex-cop was slumped against the wall with several bullet-holes tattooed across his chest. There was also a considerable amount of the top of his head missing: blown off by a well placed bullet just above his left eye. Kim had heard people refer to 'blowing someone's head off' before but she had never thought it was actually possible. She fought off the urge to vomit as she was led into the living room and shoved onto the couch.
"I thought I told you not to get involved in this investigation, Possible," Agent Pollard growled as he placed his helmet on the coffee table and removed his facemask.
The agent continued speaking, but Kim wasn't listening to a word he said, instead all she heard were Kellerman's words repeating in her head.
"…as soon as we get what we need, he's a dead man… at least he'll have you to keep him company in Hell…"
"Possible, are you listening to me?" the FBI agent barked, snapping his fingers in front of her face and bringing her back to reality.
She looked up at the young agent before he continued.
"I said you're under arrest for obstruction of justice in a federal criminal investigation. You have the right to remain silent; if you choose to give up that right, anything you say will be used against you in court–"
As Sean recited her Miranda rights, Kim once again slipped into a state of shock.
'How? How could this be happening to me?' she asked over-and-over.
With her hands still bound behind her back, Sean led her out of the house and down the street to a waiting car.
As he opened the back door, he spoke up once again.
"Oh and, Possible? One more thing," he said quietly.
Kim turned to face the agent but was stopped as he placed her in a chokehold and plunged a hypodermic needle into her neck.
As the syringe emptied its contents into her vein, Kim heard two words:
"Sleep tight."
Then there was nothing but blackness…
- To be continued...