Disclaimer: I'm just arandomshipper, not an owner.
Grief
"Strange. Huh. Not the word I would have used. I was leaning more towards Sick and Wrong. Do I really have to work with this monkey?"
"Why, you pompous little-"
"Yes, you do." Betty cut Monkey Fist off and grabbed his and Ron's shoulders, holding them apart. "So you'd better start making an effort to get along. You," She turned to Monkey Fist. "Your very life rides on the success of this, so I'd strongly advise you to ignore any further provocations. And you," She turned to Ron, and her eyes softened. "I know you're going through a lot. I know you didn't ask for this. But please, please try to be more cooperative. We need you to be 100% behind this. You know what's at stake here."
Ron slumped. "Fine. So what's the plan."
"Follow me." Betty walked into the giant building that was GJ HQ. Ron and Monkey Fist followed her through vast corridors, past countless offices and training rooms and other rooms the actual purpose of which was impossible to determine until finally passing through double doors into a room with...nothing. It was enormous. Ron estimated it to be the length and width of about three football fields, and it was entirely empty. "We're here."
"Oooookay...and where is here?" Ron said, bewildered.
"Here is a room specially designed for this mission. The roof and walls are nearly impenetrable, steel more than ten feet thick. There is only one door. This person is a master of stealth, but that will do them no good here. You will most certainly see them coming. Also, that bomb that was used that simultaneously shuts down technology and emits a shroud of darkness? The darkness will be useless here. We've covered everything in a biological illuminating agent."
Ron started. He hadn't even noticed that the light in the room didn't come from bulbs in the ceiling, but the instead from the walls, the ceiling, and even the floor.
"We've announced to the world that Monkey Fist is under our protection, but have hidden our plans on how we will protect him under heavily encrypted files behind our strongest firewalls...which I am certain our enemy will nevertheless obtain. In fact, I'm counting on it. They will discover the existence of this room, and the various defenses we've surrounded it with, allowing them to effortlessly bypass it all without even needing to engage our agents." She sighed. "This part of the plan only three people know about, the three people standing in this room. I'm not going to needlessly expose my agents to certain harm and possible death when it's already been confirmed there's nothing they can do. The perp will pass untouched through our defenses, and you will fight. That's the plan."
Monkey Fist sneered. "That seems more than a little unfair. We're being asked to risk our lives, while you people, who are actually being paid to do this, get to sit on your hands."
"I hate to agree with Monkey Fist, but...actually there's no but. I hate to agree with Monkey Fist." Ron smirked.
Betty scowled at Monkey Fist. "Your life was already at risk. In fact, if it weren't for us involving Ron, your death would be certain. Gratitude would be much more advisable than critique here. Plan B is only one word from me away from becoming a reality."
Monkey Fist paled. "Forgive me, please. I did not mean to insult. I am very grateful for you intervention, I assure you."
Monty's reaction made Ron very curious as to the details of this Plan B, but he had another question for the Director first. "So this plan. They come, we fight. That's incredibly simple. Is that really the best your tacticians here at GJ were able to come up with? Cause like, that sounds like something I'd come up with, and no one's ever accused me of being a tatical genius."
"I know. I'm very sorry, Ron, but this really is all we have. We've never faced anything like this before, where all our manpower and technology is useless. It's unfair, terribly unfair, but it all rests on you. I wish you the very best of luck, of course. Based on prior patterns, our best estimates give you a few hours to prepare yourself. Take care. Don't die." With one last sad smile, she walked out of the room.
Monkey Fist walked to the middle of the room and sat crosslegged, hands on his knees, eyes closed.
"Uhhh, what are you doing?"
He cracked an eye open. "Gathering my Chi for the coming fight, of course. You should be doing the same."
"I don't know anything about Chi gathering. Is it anything like wool-gathering? Cause it really looks like it is."
Monty opened both eyes and stared at him. "Please tell me you're joking. I know your command of Monkey Magic is imperfect, but you cannot even summon your Chi at will? We are surely doomed."
"Well, I never needed anything like that to kick your sorry behind all those times." Said Ron defensively.
Monkey Fist covered his face with his hand. "And thank you so much for reminding me. I lost to a moron. A buffoon, as Drakken would say. I suppose that makes me even more pathetic than you are." His hand lowered, revealing eyes that gleamed. "And yet here we are. The two of us, the last hope of the world."
"Not the last hope. What about Plan B?"
"Please don't mention that." Monkey fist shuddered.
When he didn't say anything more, Ron asked, "So what is Plan B anyway?"
"Ah, yes, of course they wouldn't tell a naive goody-goody like you something so sordid." Monkey Fist said with a sneer. "Global Justice, HAH! They like to give the appearance of innocence, but when their backs are to the wall, they are as quick to throw away any pretence of morals as anyone."
He rubbed his face. "When I first came to GJ for protection, I was taken to a medical lab to 'evaluate my condition'. What they actually planned was to turn me into a biologically based incindiary device. Luckily for me, Dr. Director vetoed the plan before they got into the less...reversible stages, over the protests of the vast majority of her subordinates, so she claims. She cited the impossibility of creating a remote detonator for such a thing and the difficulty of timing it correctly. This killer is so very fast, making such a thing explode in the miniscule window of opportunity presented as they get in, secure the kill, and escape again, would take something like a miracle. She is also of the opinion that even 'bagging' the killer, as she puts it, wouldn't be enough to redeem them in the eyes of the world if they lost yet another person under their so-called protection."
Ron shuddered. "Wow. That's not just Sick and Wrong, that's WrongSick! But hey, if that happened at least everyone would know you were the bomb."
Monkey Fist scowled. "I see that what passes for your sense of humor has not abandoned you, even after-"
"Don't." Ron's eyes hardened. "Don't talk about that. Don't mention it. Don't think about it. As far as you're concerned, that doesn't exist."
"Denial-"
"Don't."
"Fine. Then leave me to my meditation. At least one of us should be prepared for this fight." Monkey Fist once more closed his eyes.
"Meditation, what is that? Some kind of Indian dish?" Monkey Fist ignored him.
"Fine, but if you start saying 'huuuuuuummmmmmm' I'm going to kick you in the face." Ron muttered.
Ron wandered around the room aimlessly. He hadn't realized that it could be so boring in the hours leading up to a life and death struggle, but in the end, waiting is still waiting, something he was never very good at. Along with meditation. And boredom was bad, very bad, because now that his brain was active again, boredom meant trips down memory lane...where SHE lived. She dominated his memories. Every important moment in his life, she was there. Most of the seemingly unimportant day to day moments, she was there too. This was why he tried so hard to turn his mind off, he realized. It was a defense mechanism, as a psychologist might say. A bulwark against the unbearable pain that came from remembering all those happy times with the knowledge that they would never come again, that their very source was gone forever. His memories came into such sharp focus that he could hear her voice in his head, almost like she was standing right there.
Her excited voice. "Ron, I've been named cheerleader captain! Isn't that awesome?"
Her exasperated voice. "Did you actually lose your pants again? Ron, you have got to get some suspenders or something."
Her disgusted voice. "Ron, I understand that you think you can fit five nacos in your mouth at once, but when pieces come out every time you chew I think it kind of defeats the purpose."
Or his favorite, that quiet, contented voice when she said, "Ron. I'm glad you asked me out. This dating thing...it's better than I could've ever expected. You make me happy."
These and the many other voices she made over the years danced unobstructed through his brain, bringing with them pain, pain, and more pain. He was nearly hyperventilating from the force of his own memories.
"Ron, did you..."
"Ron, can we..."
"Ron..."
"Ron."
"RON STOPPABLE!"
That last one didn't sound like her. With a jolt, he returned to the present. Monkey Fist had been the one to shout. He was standing now, and staring at Ron from across the room. "Can't you sense it? It's beginning."
No sooner had he finished speaking then the double doors flew open. Ron hardly had time to register the cloaked figure before it crossed the room and was on Monkey Fist, the two of them engaged in mortal combat nearly too fast for the human eye to follow. He rushed over and tried to help, but he couldn't even provide a real distraction. The cloaked figure casually knocked him aside with a single blow and returned to attacking Monkey Fist.
Ron discovered that he was woefully unprepared for a fight of this level. He'd spent weeks doing nothing but lie in bed, eating less than he should. His command of the Monkey Magic, always tenuous, was currently very weak. But, as he was repeatedly swatted aside like a bug every time he tried to help, he found a deep reservoir of anger that he had no idea even existed giving him the focus he needed.
As his focus sharpened and his hold on the Monkey Magic grew stronger, he found himself better able to follow the movements of the two combatants. The cloaked figure wasn't using any real martial arts at all, just pure brawling. That was the only thing preventing Monkey Fist from being completely overwhelmed by his opponent, who was clearly far faster and stronger than him. He was using every technique and trick he knew, and it was all he could do to defend himself. He couldn't launch an attack. He couldn't even totally block all the blows. Every few strikes would land a glancing blow on him somewhere, and he was wearing down fast.
Ron launched himself once more into the frey, and the figure seemed taken aback by the ferocity and sudden competence of his attack. Monkey Fist used the opportunity to launch an attack as well, and now it was the hooded figure being pushed back, barely blocking all the blows. The Magic flowed through and between the both of them, growing and smoothening out over time, melding them into a perfect fighting duo, with stronger teamwork than people that have trained their entire lives together.
Impossibly, though their attacks grew stronger and sharper by the second, they could not land a decisive blow, and Ron soon realized why. The cloaked figure had begun using martial arts. It was like they weren't worth the effort before, but now that they were a threat, he/she/it was fighting them for real. They were desperately exceeding their own limits, while their opponent simply had higher limits to begin with, and allowed his/her/itself to more closely approach them to compensate.
Monkey Fist seemed to be growing frustrated by the lack of success. His attacks became more wild and aggressive, and the flow of perfect teamwork between him and Ron was cut off. The stance of the figure in black indicated amusement, as each of Monty's attacks were almost tauntingly dodged by the smallest margin possible. The dodging became more effortless as Monkey Fist's attacks became more erratic, and the cloaked person now had the leeway to not only block all of Ron's attacks, but to counter as well.
It suddenly felt more like a one on one than a two on one, and Ron was severely outmatched. Just one blow could take him out of the game...and there it was, a vicious full power side kick to his stomach that he couldn't dodge. He got both hands and a leg up just in time to block, but the blow sent him sliding across the room, and all three limbs went numb from the impact. He could only watch helplessly as the figure leaped and spun through the air at Monkey Fist, right leg blowing through his defenses with a sideways axe kick, leaving his jaw exposed for the left leg to land a bone-shattering toe kick before landing gracefully, like a beautiful dance move had just been performed instead of a deadly attack. Monkey Fist flew through the air, unconcious before he hit the ground.
The figure stalked deliberately up to the unconcious Monkey Master, intent on finishing the job. A hand went up. In Ron's head, he could see a different hand go up, glowing with green fire, about to end a different person's life. He felt a great surge of anger, sadness, and most of all, helplessness...and then it all bled away at once, and he felt peace.
The hand came down to crush Monty's head, but it was stopped inches away, by Ron's hand around the wrist. The figure started. He had crossed the distance between them in a blink, moving far, far faster than he had before. The figure tried to pull away, but found that his strength had increased as well. He didn't budge, and his grip on the wrist didn't slacken. The figure shrugged, and launched a series of attacks with both feet and the free hand. Ron head-slipped and blocked with only his own free hand, not deigning to move his feet in the slightest. The figure realized what he was doing and attacked his torso and legs instead. He finally released the hand and danced out of the way. He then dropped into the stance that was the truest expression of Tai Shing Pek Kwar, knees bent and body angled, arms in the air and palms facing up, one hand in front and one behind. He beckoned his opponent with his forward hand.
The hooded figure growled and lunged at him, and the fight began again. This time the roles were reversed. Ron was completely immersed in the Monkey Magic, and it increased his strength and speed beyond even that of his previously invincible opponent. The cloaked person was undeterred by this though, compensating by using a variety of martial arts with unbelieveable skill and precision. It became very obvious very fast that even when Ron had thought he and Monkey Fist had forced this person to take them seriously, they were actually still being toyed with. Only now was he able to determine the true fighting strength of his opponent.
Ron's focus increased still further, pushed by the skill of his opponent, and he pushed right back. His attacks became ever sharper and heavier, dealing damage right through blocks. The variety of martial arts the opponent used decreased, and he/she/it began to rely more and more on what was clearly the style of prefrence and highest level of mastery, a style that Ron began to realize was...
He broke away. "You! But how?! It can't be, it can't be, it can't be!"
The figure stopped moving for a long moment, staring at him, then grasped the edges of the hood and drew it back...
AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! CLIFFY ALERT!