A/N: Many thanks to those who've been reading my two stories. I've got a real hot plot bunny with this one right now. So I'm going to work on this story until the plot bunny gives away to another. Thanks to those who have left reviews, Eat Me, Zaratan, ABUNIX, and Keith1. Remember right a review receive a reply.

The plot is beginning to take shape nicely. I hope you enjoy Chapter 3.

Bubba


Stuck in rush hour traffic, Kim Possible leafed through her information on where she was to park her rented Toyota Camry. Having to sit in bumper to bumper traffic for the better part of an hour was beginning to wear on her. She had managed to get a little sleep on the flight over from Geneva but it wasn't quality. All she wanted to do was find this parking garage in the East Village. Park her car and retreat to the Global Justice safe house for some quality rest.

It was night in Manhattan. November in New York was cold, especially if the wind was blowing in from the Atlantic. Kim glanced at the console on the headliner of the car it read 18 degrees. Kim was glad she remembered to dress warm. It would be a nearly six block walk to the apartment she was to stay in.

The long line of tail lights inched down Avenue A in the East Village in Manhattan's lower east side. The area was most notable for counterculture businesses, music clubs, theaters, and of course for a very permissive let it all hang out lifestyle. This aspect of the East Village excited Kim even though she felt she would not be able to immerse herself in the culture due to the nature of the assignment.

Spotting an opening at a light change, Kim gunned the car and cut across to the far left lane as she crossed 12th Street. She had to then quickly slam on her breaks to keep from eating the rear end of a Volkswagen Passat. She leaned on her horn to voice her displeasure with the person behind the wheel of the car. Hearing other car horns, she smiled. "I'm getting the hang of this New York thing already."

Frowning as the driver of the Passat flipped her the bird. She turned her attention next to the GPS directional unit. She was coming up on E. 14th Street. She would need to make a left there in order to get to the parking garage by Bowne Hospital.

Taking out her cell phone, she checked her messages. There was one missed call. It was Wade. Kim sighed, "I should have called him before I left Europe."

Hitting the button to redial, she glanced up at the street sign as she was able to cross E. 13th. As the phone rang she tried to glance and see what block it was but couldn't tell. The safe house was on the 400 block.

"Hey Kim, I see you're in the States again."

"What's the sitch, Wade?" Kim grinned as she gave the traditional greeting to her old friend.

"You need to make a left on E. 14th..."

The light turned green and Kim inched into the intersection with the rest of the traffic. "Is that all you called me for? I do have a TomTom you know."

"Are you staying at the Global Justice safe house on 413 E. 13th Street, Apartment 5D?"

Kim was finally able to creep across the intersection to make her left onto E. 14th Street. "Yeah...How did you know that?"

"Awwwwww, Kim...I am good at this job..."

Smiling Kim said, "Well as long as it's just you that knows. I wonder why I'm on E. 13th Street? I mean Du, when he's in New York has this great place on Central Park West."

"Probably closer to the assignment, right turn here into the Garage entrance."

Growling Kim said. "I can see that Wade, now stop it."

"Sorry..."

Pulling to a stop in front of the gate blocking the entrance, she rolled down the window on the rented Camry and waved her garage pass card in front of the electronic card reader. The gate lifted and Kim drove into the garage. "So what's going on that you needed to talk to me about?"

"Did you know it cost 500 a month to park in that garage?"

Driving up the narrow ramp, she eyed the cars that were shoe horned into obscenely small parking spots. Kim shook her head. "No, no...man it's tight in here."

"It's an old garage."

"Yeah, so why did you call?"

"Are you parked yet?"

Finding a small spot on the third level, Kim carefully squeezed the Camry into it. "Oh, this is just great. I've got a spot but I'm not sure if I can open the door enough to get out?"

"It's a rental car right?"

"Yeah..."

"Just pull down the backseat and pop the trunk. You can crawl out that way."

Kim thought about it for a moment and then opened her door a crack. "Bullshit Wade, I think I can squeeze out the door."

"Your call on that one."

"So why did you call me?"

"You're parked right?"

Her patience was rapidly running out with the 20 year old Computer specialist. Kim was parked and all she wanted to do now was to find a bed and sleep for a week. "WADE...YES...YES, I'm parked."

"Guess who's going to be in town on Saturday?"

Kim closed her eyes, "Oh no..."

"Yeah...Ron...Dolphins, Jets, The Meadowlands, NBC Sunday Night Football. Pretty cool, huh?"

Sighing heavily, Kim said quietly, "Yeah...pretty cool, Wade."

"Want me to hook you up with some tickets?"

Thinking it over for a moment, she made her decision. "Sure, why not. I also need to know where the team's staying. I'm going to do it this time. I'm going to talk to him."

"That's the fearless Kim I know."

"So...What kind of stuff did you dig up on Ron...I mean...you know...relationship wise?" Kim asked nervously, remembering that she heard on of the teenage girls say he was engaged.

"Ummm...well...There's a lot of stuff out there...You really need to talk to Ron about this stuff."

A cold chill ran down Kim's spine, "He's engaged isn't he?"

"No...no...as a matter of fact that Cuban singer lady says the engagement is off. She claims Ron beat her up."

"WHAT!"

"It's all bullshit Kim...Ron only dated her once. She's an up and coming singer and just looking for tabloid ink."

Kim wiped her brow. She was surprised to find she was sweating. "Good, good...I mean...I didn't think...You know..."

"Yeah...I know...Kim...Ron's got some stuff going on at home...You really need to talk to him."

Another cold chill passed through Kim, "His parents are alright...right? Nothing's wrong with Hana?"

"No...Look Kim...I got to go. I'll email you the information you need. Just...please talk to him this time...It's really important."

Taking a deep breath, Kim nodded, "Yeah...OK...thanks Wade."

"Oh Kim...make a right as you come out of the garage, a left on 1st Avenue, then make a left on E. 13th for three blocks."

"Thanks Wade..." Kim said as she ended the call.

Tucking her cell phone back into her handbag, Kim tried to think of all the possible problems that Ron could be having at home. Somehow Kim figured the problems were probably girl related. The way she saw him handle himself in England with the ladies was the best guess she could come up with. After all she really hadn't seen him in five years.

Opening the door a few inches till it touched the car next to hers. She contorted her body and squeezed out the small opening. "Oh to be 13 again…"

After securing her luggage and locking up the rented Toyota she found herself on the street walking to her new home for the next few months. It was cold and there were still snow flurries in the area as she made her way down 1st Avenue. The sidewalks were crowded but packed. Ahead she saw the traffic lights for the E. 13th.

Standing at the intersection waiting for the walk signal she glanced around at the people waiting to cross with her. No one appeared to be friendly or approachable. With so many people stuffed onto one little island, the populace tended to be territorial and unfriendly. You did not ever want to invade these people's personal space by asking for directions or you would be considered insane or worse yet a threat. This was not a place Kim enjoyed having to be in.

Kim continued to ignore the commuters returning home from work for the evening as the light changed she made her way across the 4 lane interchange of 1st Avenue to E. 13th. The street was lined with old prewar 4 and 6 unit apartment buildings. Looking up at the entrances of the buildings for a street address she made her way down the street. "Wade said 3 blocks but he didn't say which side of the street."

"You look lost."

Kim turned to a group of African American teenagers standing in front of one of the apartment buildings. They were bundled up to keep warm. Kim didn't detect any immediate threat so she decided to try and get a sense of where she was. "Just a little I'm looking for 413…"

"Apartment 5D?"

Blinking her eyes in amazement, Kim said. "Maybe…"

The boys started laughing and high fiving one another. "I knew it, I knew it, lady spook going into the Global Justice place."

"Hey…hey…Dee, how long do you think she'll live before she gets her head blown off?" One of the boys asked the taller one that had spoke to Kim at first.

He looked over Kim, "Shit, I don't give this lady spook but…" He eyed Kim up and down, before he gave the others his assessment of her potential survival. "…maybe a week."

Kim frowned, "So if I was going to find this place, where would it be? Not that I am going there or anything."

The boys laughed and high fived each other again before the boy in the hoodie pointed across the street. "Right over there."

Looking both ways to make sure no cars were coming Kim struck out for her new residence. Pulling her pull along suitcase behind her, she grumbled under her breath as she heard the boys laughing at her expense. "Some safe house, if everyone knows where it is."

Once across the street Kim looked up at the rundown brick apartment building. Collapsing the handle on her pull along suitcase, she made her way up the steps to find her new home. Kim stopped inside the entrance to look at the mail boxes. She took out her keys and opened the box marked 5D. The box was stuffed. She quickly shut to the door to the box, "I'll clean that out later."

Letting out a deep breath she looked up the stairs to the next floor. Not even bothering to look for her apartment on the ground floor she walked up the stairs. The apartment at the top of the stairs said 5C. Kim went to the door next door and inserted the key.

The door opened suddenly as an elderly lady, dressed in a light blue house dress with a floral print pattern printed on it, and wearing a grey sweater opened the door. Kim stepped back suddenly, "Oh…sorry…I thought this was 5D..."

The lady smiled and pointed down the hallway. "The Global Justice safe house is just over there across the hall. I have a box for you. It was delivered earlier today. Wait here just a second and I'll get it for you."

Kim blinked as the lady disappeared from the door, before quickly returning. "Here you go…I took the liberty of opening it to make sure that everything was there. You have a very nice handgun, by the way."

"Uh…thanks…" Kim said weakly as she tucked her handbag under her arm to take the box.

As she turned to go to her new apartment, the elderly lady asked her. "Do you really think you're going to need all those bullets?"

"What?"

The elderly lady pointed to the box Kim was holding. "The box of bullets in your box, it said there were 500 of them inside. Do you really think you'll need that many?"

"YES!" Kim said indignantly as she turned and stomped off towards her apartment.

"I'm Mrs. Simms but everyone just calls me Granny. You seem like such a nice girl, I hope you don't die before we can talk some more."

"Thanks…" Kim muttered as she inserted her key into the lock of a door that only had the number 5 on the door. Before she turned the key she noted 2 distinct holes in the door that appeared to be bullet holes.

Opening the door she entered the apartment and turned on the light. The room was barely illuminated by the single 40 watt light bulb that hung down from the ceiling. She glanced around the room and shook her head. "This place is such a…"

Her thoughts were interrupted as her eyes took in the large brown stain in the center of the wall with a drip trail that ran down the wall. There on the hard wood floor was a chalk outline of a body. "…dump."

Kim closed the door behind her, latched the deadbolt lock and secured the safety chain. Placing her box of weapons on the simple wooden table in an area she guessed was called a breakfast nook. Shrugging her laptop off her shoulder she propped it up on the floor next to her suitcase. Taking off her ankle length leather trench coat and hanging it over a chair, she noted the place was freezing.

Looking for the thermostat, she quickly found it and noted that the temperature was 42 degrees. Setting the thermostat for 80 she heard the furnace kick in. With a loud bang and a few pops, she was soon rewarded with warm are being pushed through a large vent in the hard wood floor.

Now it was time to explore her new place. Entering the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator door and quickly closed it again. The smell coming from within it was horrendous. "I guess we'll be eating out a lot."

Looking over the small apartment sized stove, she made a face at the unfriendly looking appliance. Moving on from there she looked into the small bathroom. The stool was stained a dark brown color from hard water deposits. She peaked at the tub. The ancient claw foot tub had been converted to also have a shower attachment it looked clean enough just needed to be rinsed out. However the light blue shower curtain that was brown on the bottom from mildew and would have to go. "Well…I guess this isn't too bad."

Walking out of the bathroom she looked at another light blue shower curtain that separated the living room from whatever was on the other side. Kim pulled back there curtain to reveal an unmade twin sized bed that had seen better days, a small dresser and a night stand with an ancient clock radio, porcelain pink lamp and a telephone sitting on it.

Frowning Kim shook her head, "Will Du gets Central Park West and I get a slum near the Lower East Side. This is so not fair."

Turning she walked back into the living room, giving the dried blood and gore on the wall a wide birth as she moved around it. Looking at the worn out old brown couch that had seen better days she turned to look at an ancient 25" color television. Putting her hands on her hips she turned and walked back to her stuff on the cheap wooden table. "It can't get any worse than this."

Sitting on one of the cheap and unsteady looking wooden chairs, she picked up the shipping box that contained her weapons. The package of weapons that she had shipped over from Geneva looked to be intact. Even after arriving at the wrong address.

Kim pulled out her Beretta model 92 Vertec didn't seem to worse for wear. Pressing the button for the slide release Kim took out the 14 shot magazine and pulled back the slide. Looking the gun over she found it to be in working order.

"Snowman Hank looks good." She thought happily as she found the two spare magazines for the gun and the box 500 rounds of 9mm Corbon 115 grain +P jacketed hollow point bullets.

Loading her magazines with bullets, Kim thought over the things she would need to do in the morning. The first thing that came to mind was finding a store and picking up a new shower curtain. Along with other various toiletries since it was obvious the only extra item the bathroom had in it was a roll of toilet paper.

Replacing the magazine in the pistol Kim worked the slide to chamber a round, and then pressed the magazine release once again. She loaded one more bullet into the magazine to bring the gun up to its 15 round capacity. Finding her pancake holster that fit just inside of the waist band of her pants she secured her weapon. Snowman Hank was now ready for business.

Hearing a knock from across the hall, Kim instinctively looked up. She heard the lady from across the hall address the visitor.

"Oh no, you want the Global Justice place across the hall."

Kim frowned, drew Snowman Hank from its holster and waited for inevitable knock on the door. The knock came and Kim silently slid out of the chair and made her way to the door. She looked through the small peep hole at a rather large burley man standing on the other side of the door. "Well I guess we'll be getting started early on this case."

Unlocking the deadbolt but leaving the safety chain in place, Kim inched the door open. "Yes…"

The large middle aged man showed his badge to the pair of green eyes peeking out from around the door. "Josh Marshall, NYPD, I was directed to you by certain interested parties. You Kim Possible, the lady from Global Justice?"

Closing the door and undoing the safety chain, Kim opened the door. "That would be me." She said as she held out her hand.

Detective Marshall shook the hand, and then pointed at the other hand that held Kim's pistol. "You always answer a door with a gun in your hand?"

Looking at the man strangely, it took a moment for Kim to register that she was still holding her service pistol. "Oh, sorry I just got in and was…getting things ready."

The man nodded his large head. He stood at least 6'2 and back in his youth must have been quite the striking figure of a man. Kim placed his age to be between 45 and 105 years old. The years of police work showing on the man's face. His neatly trimmed brown hair had just a hint of grey. His face was weather worn, he had plenty of worry and frown lines from too many cases over too many years. His eyes were sunken from too many nights at home on his days off drinking alone.

"You investigating a series of strange rapes and or murders where the evidence just disappears?" The man asked gruffly.

Kim nodded her head, "That would be me again. Take your coat?"

"No thanks, I probably won't be around here that long."

Looking around the apartment Kim finally shrugged and offered her visitor a seat at the cheap wooden table. "Pull up a chair."

Detective Marshall's eyes locked in on the blood stained wall and the chalk outline on the hardwood floor. "Jesus, they ain't cleaned this dump up since that guy got his head blown off last year?"

Wincing at the detective's words, Kim had to ask the question that was burning in her mind. "Uh…did they…you know, ever catch the guy…who did it?"

Marshall shrugged, "Yeah, some crack head from over in Alphabet City."

"Great…that's just…great." Kim said sullenly.

"Figured with ol' Global Justice's resources they could have had this dump cleaned up or something?"

"One would think." Kim said sadly as she looked over the man in the dark blue suit.

The man took a seat, "You got anything to drink? You know…whiskey?"

Kim blinked her eyes, "You know…that's a good question."

Josh Marshall watched as Kim went into the cabinets. "The reason I'm here is that there's a good cop by the name of Wallace Preston. He's working with the people that have hired you folks to look into things. He says you guys are alright."

Much to Kim's relief she found an old bottle of McCormick's whiskey. She picked up to glasses that looked reasonably clean and returned to the table. Pouring the man a drink she nodded her head. "Well we have definitely been asked to look into things."

The man took a drink of the whiskey. "Right, so anyway, this goes back to 2002, eleven years ago. I was working a beat over in the Garment District. You know where that is?"

Kim shook her head. "I'm new in town."

"Doesn't matter, you can look it up later. Anyway, I'm rolling in my car alone one night when I hear a shot." The man made a finger gun and pointed it towards the dried blood stain on the wall.

Glancing at the wall, Kim turned her attention back to the detective.

"So I roll on the call and call for backup. I get around Bryant Park and 42nd street. I see this young blonde girl covered in blood, running from this guy holding a revolver and a knife."

Picking up her handbag from the table Kim looked for and found her notebook. "This was back in 2002?"

"Yeah, August 19th of 2002. So I get out of my car and I chase the two of them into the park. The girl's still running and all the while this guy keeps stabbing her. I was so close to them I could hear the knife going in and out of the girl's body. I'll never forget that weird suction noise as the knife kept going in and out of her."

Kim twisted in her chair nervously. She had the feeling this was going to be a gruesome story and she had guessed correctly.

Detective Marshall finished his whiskey and held out the glass to be refilled. Kim refilled it for the man. "Thanks…anyway, the girl finally runs out of blood and falls to the ground. The man follows her down to the ground still stabbing her. I yell for him to stop and it's like he's on a different planet. He never stops sticking the blade in her."

Kim screwed up her face as Detective Marshall made a stabbing motion over and over again. "So did you shoot him?"

"Are you kidding, there's too much paper work involved with something like that. So I tackle the guy and he puts up one hell of a fight. He doesn't stop struggling, still trying to plunge the knife in this girl, till I put my gun to his head and tell him to stop. Then he just goes limp."

"Was he on drugs?" Kim asked.

The detective shook his head. "Not that I could tell. He was meek as a kitten once he gets a look at my gun."

"What about the girl?"

Detective Marshall downed his drink and held out the glass for another. "Well come to find out she's just a kid, 19 or 20 years old. She was a real looking if you know what I mean? She's cut up bad, had one cut that went from just above her right breast all the way down to just above her pelvic bone. Blood all over the place, you could smell the death all over this girl."

Kim winced, "Ouch…"

"Yeah, ouch…So I get this piece of shit on the ground and slap him around a bit before cuffing him. Once I get him secured the backup units and an ambulance arrive. So while their attending to things I decided to follow the blood trail all the way back to this guys car, it's a piece of shit Ford Thunderbird. I start digging around inside the car, and what do you think I find?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Kim said. "Tell me…"

"The passenger's seat is covered in blood, under the passenger's seat I find a leather case containing a sawed off shotgun, and under the driver's seat. I find a leather get up holding a machete."

"This isn't a good thing." Kim said dryly.

The Detective smiled a savage grin and said. "Damn right this isn't a good thing. Now this is where it gets weird. I pop the trunk and find sheets and sheets of plastic…rolls of the stuff."

Lifting an eyebrow, Kim said. "Sounds like this wasn't the first time this guys done something like this."

"That's what I'm thinking."

Thinking about the victim, Kim asked. "So did the girl survive?"

"We bundled her up and send her off to the hospital. Never did find out what had happened to her, until just recently. Anyway I take this dirtball down to the 18th precinct for booking. He goes into his cell all nice and quiet like. I start in on my paper work and I get a call to go into the Captain's office."

"What was the Captain's name?" Kim asked as she was still taking notes.

"Benjamin Tobin, he died of a massive coronary a few years ago. Anyway I go into the Captain's office and he tells me what a great job I did on the case. Tells me their letting this guy walk and that I should just forget about it."

"That's kind of odd, wouldn't you say?"

Detective Marshall reached into his pocket and pulled out a little felt covered box and passed it over to Kim. Inside the box was a silver NYPD Medal of Valor. "Yeah, an odd request. So then he tells me I've just been awarded the Medal of Valor. Only thing is, I have to forget about everything regarding this arrest."

Kim eyed the Medal of Valor before passing the box back to Marshall. "I take it, that this isn't the usual method of awarding this medal?"

Detective Marshall nodded his head, "Yeah, you can say that. The thing is, if you get awarded a Medal of Valor, you can pretty much right your own ticket in the department. So I…I...kind of…"

"Wrote your own ticket?" Kim asked neutrally.

"Yeah, I didn't like doing it, but you know how it is. You sometimes have to make compromises to get ahead."

Nodding her head, as she processed the man's rationalization for letting a crazed knife wielding crazy out onto the street, she asked. "So what brings you here?"

"The case has haunted me for the last 11 years. I try not to think about it, but it just won't let me go. Then about six months ago, I get this letter from the girl who was knifed. Hell, I figured she was dead." Detective Marshall said in amazement.

"What was the woman's name?"

"Dorsey, Mary Sue, Dorsey, I get this letter from her thanking me for saving her and everything. Wanting to know what information was available on the case as she couldn't find any."

Kim looked up from her note book, "Were you able to help her?"

"I've still got a street file on the case. The rest of the evidence from the case was either lost or destroyed. So I've been helping her out as much as I can."

Looking at the detective quizzically, Kim asked. "What's a street file?"

The Detective looked at Kim in amazement. "You don't know what a street file is?"

"Humor me."

Shifting his weight in the chair, Detective Marshall enlightened Kim. "A street file is a copy of the regular police report, except it has added information in it. If you've got information that you don't want the defense to get a hold of, put it in the street file. Got a blood types that don't match up, put in the street file. Anything strange and unusual that won't aid in the prosecution, it goes into the street file."

"Would it be possible for me to get a copy of this street file?" Kim asked.

"Yeah, I can run a copy off and get it to you tomorrow." Detective Marshall stood as he finished his whiskey.

Kim dug a business card out of her purse and scribbled her cell phone number on it, before handing it to the man as she escorted him to the door. "If anything comes up or if you have some further information that might prove useful. Feel free to give me a call."

Detective Marshall took the card and stuffed it into the pocket of his overcoat. "I'll keep you in the loop then."

"Thanks"

"Oh and Possible, you know how you answered the door with the gun in your hand." Detective Marshall reminded her.

"Yeah"

"Keep answering it like that. This neighborhood ain't the best." He said as he stepped outside the apartment.

Kim nodded her head, "Right, I'll keep that in mind."

Standing in the doorway Kim watched the detective make his way towards the stairs. Glancing across the hall she saw Granny Simm's door open a crack. Then the door opened a bit more as Granny Simm's waved to Kim before shutting the door quickly.

Thinking on it a moment, Kim thought. "This sure does sound like it's connected to what I'm working on. I better go over the briefing papers again before I turn in for the night."

Closing the door and locking it up again. Kim looked around the shabby apartment. She walked over to the television and turned it on. Picking up the remote control from the top of the set she flipped through the channels. "Well at least I got cable."

Flipping till she found HBO, Kim smiled as she saw that Inside the NFL was on. She decided to keep the show on as background noise while she unpacked her things. Dragging her bag into the makeshift bedroom she put her clothes away in the small dresser. "No washer and dryer, I'll have to find a laundry mat." She thought to herself as she laid out her clothes for the next day.

The black slacks and purple top reminded her of her last mission outfit. Now with the ankle long trench coat she thought it made an extremely eye catching as well as lethal looking combination.

The rich baritone voice of NFL Films narrator drifted into the makeshift bedroom. "Week 10's Showdown between the AFC East leading Miami Dolphins against the 2nd place team in the NFC North's Chicago Bears…"

Kim ran into the living room and sat down on the couch. Time to catch up on what Ron had been up to.

Film of Ron in his Dolphin's uniform, flashing a dazzling smile and wiggling his fingers at the camera as if he were trying to place a spell on the people at home came onto the screen. Kim smiled and shook her head, "You nut."

"The Miami Dolphins arrived in the Windy City and Soldier Field in hopes that their star running back could mesmerize the Bears defense the way he had mesmerized the ladies in the local Miami nightspots."

"Miami nightspots?" Kim giggled.

"The spell appeared to be cast as number 21 Ron Stoppable took the opening kickoff 84 yards for the opening score."

The video now showed Ron taking the opening kickoff and running towards the end zone as the show used a local Miami radio broadcast to describe the action.

"Stoppable cuts back against the grain."

"He's gonna break it…"

"Stoppable only has to beat the kicker…"

"He's trying to tackle him by grabbing his jersey…"

"15…10…5…Touchdown, Ron Stoppable scores his 5th kickoff return for a touchdown of the season."

Kim clapped her hands, "Go Mad Dog's, Go, Go Mad Dog's"

"This was not to be a day for the Miami Dolphins as whatever spell Ron Stoppable had cast during the kickoff quickly wore off as number 21 ran into the teeth of the Bears defense."

The clapping ended as images of Ron being pummeled by the Bears defense filled the screen. Kim winced as Ron was hit time after time by large lineman. The sounds of grunting and pain filled her ears. The last image was of an over thrown pass that Ron had to jump for. One of the Bears safeties leveled Ron with a ferocious hit as he came back down from trying to catch the ball.

"Stoppable's down, he is definitely hurting after that last hit."

"I could feel that hit all the way up here in the press box."

Ron stood up slowly and shook his head in frustration as he undid the snaps of his chin strap as he jogged off the field.

The next part of the segment featured the Bears offense scoring touchdowns against a hapless Miami defense. Kim crossed her arms as it was more than apparent that the Dolphins were going to lose the game.

"A late 4th quarter rally and a 4 yard rushing touchdown by running back Ron Stoppable wasn't enough to bring the Dolphins back for a chance of winning as they went down in defeat 31 to 17. The Bears improved their NFC North Division record to 6 and 3, while the AFC East Division leading Miami Dolphins record slips to 7 and 2."

Kim frowned, "Well that's still a winning record."

The shows announcers came on the screen after the segment. Former NFL great Jim Gasman looked to his sidekick Larry McWilliams and summed up his feeling on the Dolphins. "So goes Ron Stoppable, so go the Dolphins, right Larry."

Larry McWilliams frowned and shook his head. "I think the Miami Dolphins young running back is in a serious need of an intervention. He needs to stay out of the nightclubs and start focusing on football again."

"Right you are Larry, for those of you who haven't heard the news out of Miami from last week. Two officers of the Miami Police department came across an Aston Martin Vanquish parked in the middle of the road with the engine running and the doors open."

Kim closed her eyes, "Oh no…"

"The officers followed a trail of clothing until they reached the fountains in front of the Greater Miami Convention Center where they found Mr. Stoppable and three ladies he met earlier at a club cavorting naked in one of the fountains."

Larry McWilliams looked into the camera and shook his head. "Asked what he was doing in the fountain with the three women. Mr. Stoppable responded that the girls were merely trying to teach him the breast stroke."

Wincing Kim couldn't help but chuckle, "Ron, Ron, Ron…"

Jim Gasman grinning looked into the camera and finished his part of the narrative. "The local Miami media are now referring to the incident as Synchronized Swimming with Ron and the Ronnettes."

Kim groaned, "Oh man….RON! What are we going to do with you?"

"This along with Mr. Stoppable's other legal troubles indicate, at least to me…an athlete who is out of control and in serious need of help."

"How about the Chicago Bear's defense? They are the first team to hold Ron Stoppable to under 100 yards this season. Ron Stoppable was only able to rush for 84 yards during last Sunday's game."

Turning off the television Kim sat in silence for a few minutes. If Ron was in need of an intervention, then she was just the person to come to the aid of her old friend. "I'll find you Saturday night and then me and you are going to have a long talk Ron."


After turning off the TV, Kim realized just how tired she was as she placed fresh bedding on the twin sized bed. Deciding that she would finish getting settled in the apartment in the morning Kim had called it a night.

She slept soundly. The long plane flight and the trip to the apartment had worn her out. The phone on the nightstand started to ring. Kim ignored it at first but after the third ring she lifted her head and tried to focus her eyes on the clock radio. It was 3:10 AM, groaning Kim picked up the phone. "No Ron, it wasn't a dream we really kissed." She said into the phone groggily.

"Is this Kim Possible?"

Still half asleep, Kim mumbled into the phone. "I don't know…maybe?"

"This is Hermione Cain from WNBC, channel 4 Action News. Would you be interested in making a statement?"

Kim was finally starting to rouse from her sleep. She looked around the darkened apartment for any clues as to why someone would be calling after 3 AM in the morning. "What...what are you talking about? What statement?"

"A statement about the death of your friend NYPD Detective Joshua Marshall, it appears he got himself shot to death down at Bowery and Hester."

Now fully wide awake Kim sat in bed, "Who is this again?"

"Oh Kimmie, don't you recognize my voice by now?"

Kim was rapidly running out of patience. "Look, it's just you, me and three fifteen in the morning. How did you get my number anyway?"

"Oh it was on the business card they found on Detective Marshall. The police are really interested in talking to you. They think you did it."

The silence that followed was deafening. Finally Kim decided to play along with the caller. Kim was now rapidly processing the information the woman had given her and trying to form some semblance of a plan. "Do you have video of the crime scene?"

"Oh boy, do we have video!"

"Look I'll make a deal with you. You let me look at that tape and I'll give you a statement."

"Deal"

Kim sighed, "Alright where is WNBC located?"

"Sheesh, you're kidding right?"

"No, I'm not kidding, I just got into town." Kim told her impatiently.

"We're at 30 Rock...or 30 Rockefeller Center, Mid Town Manhattan to you tourists."

"Right…I'll be over there in an hour or so." Kim said wearily.

"You still haven't figured out who this is yet, have you?"

Kim frowned and shook her head. "Not a clue."

"Awwwww, I'm genuinely hurt. Us old Tri-City girls need to stick together."

Rolling her eyes Kim muttered, "Uh huh...right...right...so who is this?"

The caller giggled, "Why Kim, this is your old friend Summer Gayle."