A/N: Holy shit . . . it has been waaaaaaaaaaay too long since I updated. I sincerely apologize to my readers, new and old.
Excuse time: I graduated from college this past May and have been acclimating to a new job - which I have not really been enjoying. That probably played a small role in my depression rearing its ugly head. Things are starting to look up, though. I also have been busy with the fiance planning our wedding.
OK. End of excuses. I will try to update the next chapter within a more reasonable time frame. Thank you to all who read and reviewed the last chapter! And thanks to the folks who faved and began following this story and 'Syndicate'.
Beckman: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you enjoyed the little KR bits in the last chapter. More will come, I promise, as their relationship will become important later on. I suppose Ron giving Ronan a modified Indian burn is OOC for him, but I feel that when it comes to Kim and her well being he's not afraid to be a little rough n' tumble – the fight between him and Warhawk comes to mind. As to the comment about his opponent being a woman . . . I see your point. However, Ronan was about to take a swing at Ron's face without a second thought. Ron just blocked the blow and gave her a physical encouragement to leave his lady alone.
As for Miss Karen . . . she may be a chronologically full-grown woman, but mentally? That's up for debate. After all, Ronan does not get questionable decision-making skills just from her father.
CB73: Yep. Ron's a pretty good guy. Gotta wait and see if Ronan will take the warning to heart.
zzooo99: Keeping it up for you!
PLEASE READ AND REVIEW :)
Disclaimer: Still don't own KP
Whether the swiftness of the flight had to with the excitement Kim felt that they were finally doing something, or if it was dread that they may be walking in to a trap, she did not know. She did know that the Daeva seemed arrived outside of Miami, Florida a lot faster than any other trip she had thus taken on the jet.
Ronan landed the Daeva in a thicket of trees on a small peninsula in the everglades near Miami. Despite her dislike for the agent, Kim was genuinely impressed with her maneuvering of the jet, how she was able to squeeze it in between branches and hanging wreaths of Spanish moss without brushing or bumping against them. The Daeva landed with a soft thump, and the hiss of the engines whined down.
"Are there still boots in the back?" Margo queried. As per usual, she was wearing patent black leather pumps – not the most suitable shoe to go traipsing around a swamp in.
"Yeah," Ronan answered from her seat. She was preoccupied with shutting down the jet's operating systems so her eyes remained glued to the Daeva's dash, but she did jerk her thumb behind her shoulder. "They should be behind the jump vests and helmets in the cubby in the back."
Derek, who had been the first to leave his seat – aside from Rooke, strode to the back of the cabin. Besides Ronan, he was the one Syndicate member who regularly jumped, so he was familiar with the stocks of the jet. He reached for the sliding door of the jump equipment compartment. He gave it a gentle tug, expecting it to float open. His brow crumpled in puzzlement when the door stuck. Gripping the handle firmly, he gave the door a forceful pull. This time it slammed back on its tracks and into the adjoining slot.
"Ow!"
Derek took a surprised step back at seeing Karen wedged between the jumping equipment, sucking on her fingers that had been clipped by the sliding door. Despite the shock, Derek began to laugh. The commotion caught the attention of the rest of the company and they all adjusted themselves to see what had sparked the torrent of mirth.
Embarrassed, knowing the jig was up, Karen slowly crawled out of the space. Seeing her mother clamber to her feet, Ronan's eyes grew big and her ears grew hot.
What the fuck was she doing here?
"Well, I must say Ms. Anderson, I was not expecting to see you here," Rooke said coolly.
Karen groaned coming to her full height, shaking out her legs and stretching out her back in a series of pops and cracks.
"Mom!" Ronan cried, getting out of her seat. "What are you doing here?"
Derek, still chuckling up a storm, ducked behind Karen and fetched a pair of thick-soled boots.
"Smuggling yourself aboard and stowing yourself away?" he giggled to himself. "Respect!" and punched Karen delicately on the shoulder before passing the footwear onto Margo.
Ronan remained standing, arms taut with disbelief at her side, mouth slightly agape, lower right eyelid beginning to twitch.
Shego took note of her expression more so than others, saying, "I've seen that face plenty of times. I'm out."
She quickly got up and descended down the hatch steps. Angela followed, whistling with mock ease as she went. Derek was next down.
"H-how how?" Ronan rattled, her words getting gummed up in fury.
"I took your bike," Karen explained.
The answer sent Ronan into a new wave a furious, nonsensical, disbelieving utterances. "You rode my bike?"
"It's okay. I've rode motorcycles before. It's fine."
"Where is it?"
"I stuck it in that shed that was near the barn."
Again, Ronan made an outraged choking sound in the back of her throat. Kim and Ron looked at each other. They had heard Drakken make similar sounds on a regular basis, although in a deeper register.
"Y-y-you . . . you," Ronan managed to seethe. Her long fingers flexed at her sides and her cheek convulsed. Clearly she was having difficulty fully expressing her utmost agitation with words. "What're you doing?" she finally managed.
"I would like to know that as well," Margo added, taking her heels in hand and slipping on the boots.
Taking a moment to think about it, Karen eventually said, "I was tired of being left behind."
She looked at her daughter, an expression creeping across her face that alluded to times other than the present where she had felt abandoned. Ronan finally shut her mouth, her anger simmering down into something more repugnant than vicious. She sat back down in her captain's chair and swiveled forward.
"I'm taking you back to the ranch."
"No!"
"Mom – "
"Enough, ladies," Rooke interrupted, diplomatically holding up a hand. He gave Ronan a warning look before turning to her mother, "What do you want to do?"
Karen blinked. She wasn't expecting that. She was expecting the Syndicate leader to agree with his agent about sending her back to her parents'. Karen thought about the question for a moment before answering.
"I wanna help."
A condescending, disbelieving, one-note laugh made its way through Ronan's throat. Rooke eyed his agent, but did nothing else to acknowledge her 'comment'. He brought his attention back to Karen.
"You want to help," he repeated. He smiled. "Very well. But remember, you are the one who wanted to come along."
"What the hell is she gonna do?" Ronan demanded.
"Having grown up around maids, caterers and other forms of 'help'," Rooke said, looking at Karen but responding Ronan's inquiry, "you know how to behave as one."
It wasn't really a question; it was a statement of fact, but Karen answered him anyway. "Yeah, I suppose."
"Good," he said. "Then you will go undercover as one of the servers at the party."
Ronan's mouth fell back open and the interior of the jet fell silent.
"Close your mouth, dear," Margo said. "You're catching flies."
"But Mink – Anya knows what she looks like," Kim pointed out. "What happens if she is pointed out?"
"We will have to deal with that if and when it comes about," Rooke said simply. "It will be helpful to have eyes on all sides of the event. I am assuming Karen realizes the risks of her request, otherwise she wouldn't have asked."
He looked keenly at Karen who quickly responded: "Er – yes! Absolutely!"
"Good. Well then, let's get moving."
With that Rooke and Margo – heels in hand – made their way down the stairs. Karen, Ronan, Drakken, Kim, Ron, and Sutton were left in the jet. Ronan's amber eyes were still judgmental slits fixed upon her mother. Her mouth twitched, as if she wanted to say something further. She seemed to think better of it though, because she got up and walked down the Daeva steps, Sutton close at heel.
"I guess we better get going then," Kim muttered, getting up herself and heading for the hatch. Ron followed suit, sparing Karen and Drakken a glance before disappearing out of the jet.
"I thought you were going to stay behind," Drakken said after the teens had exited.
Karen shrugged. "I changed my mind." Drakken shook his head, heading for the stairs. "What?"
Drakken murmured that it was nothing and took the steps down. Karen followed close behind.
It was hot and humid, as Florida usually was. It was the early evening now and the sun was in the pre-stages of setting. The small spit of land the Daeva rested on was surrounded by shallow swamp, the banks of which were not terribly apparent and there were several instances that one member of the group or another would accidently step into the green, murky water.
Shego had pulled her long hair back into a bushy ponytail – her thick hair did not take well to humidity and was beginning to poof and frizz with all the glamour of a bad eighties hair style. After a few minutes, Kim found she had to do the same.
The second leg of their journey was on foot, a short hike through the marshland. Apparently, there was a small, run down trailer park and mechanics shop two miles away. From there, they would continue to Miami.
When they arrived at the park, it appeared to be deserted. The few trailers that were there were rusted and dilapidated. If it hadn't been for the small faces peering out at them from behind tattered curtains, Kim would've thought that the property had been foreclosed long ago.
The mechanics shop stood a few yards away from the trailers, looking equally as run down. The windows were opaque with dirt and mildew. A few were cracked and someone had tried to rectify the problem using packaging tape.
The entire property was dismal and sad. And smelled awful. A mix of polluted water, mold, garbage, and burnt oil.
Without batting an eye, Rooke headed right for the mechanics shop. The front door he pushed open screeched on its hinges and sounded as though it would fall right off. It didn't though, and so the group followed Rooke inside.
The building had no air conditioning and was not well ventilated. That being the case, the smell was now more intense and hot, stinging the nostrils of the visitors. Ron actually gagged and Rufus covered his paws over his mouth and tried burying himself even deeper into his owner's pocket – as if that would somehow quell the stench.
Rooke was unfazed by this. He walked up to the door behind the service counter and knocked politely. Kim wasn't sure, but could've sworn she heard a gruff mumble from behind the flimsy wood. Rooke opened the door ajar and stuck his head in. He had a brief, inaudible conversation with whoever was behind the door and then shut it. He then went back to the service counter, opened a drawer and took out two sets of keys. He tossed one to Derek and kept the other.
With a gesture, he directed the group to the door on the west side of the building. Opening it revealed the garage portion of the shop. In it, there were two large 1956 Lincoln Continentals. Black in color, as it seemed to be Rooke's preference. The groups split accordingly and piled into the rides. In front of them, the garage doors rattled and shook as they were lifted open by some unseen force. And they were off.
Urban Miami shot up from the ground with very little warning. One minute, they were driving along dusty roads between shafts of tall swamp grass, the next they were traversing the trafficked streets of the city. At this point, dusk had fallen and the lights of establishments were coming to life.
Kim wasn't aware that there journey had come to an end until the car pulled to a stop in front of a large hotel of a franchised disposition. She watched, as the car Rooke had took slowed to a stop across the street. Ronan and Karen got out on the curb, and the car pulled away again. Belatedly, Kim realized that the rest of the car's occupants were exiting the vehicle. Scrambling, she got out of the car.
"Rooke and Margo have two penthouses on reserve at the Miami Villa near the beach," Angie explained as the mother and daughter approached the other car. "I reserved rest of us rooms here." She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder at the motel behind her.
Since there was an uneven number in the group, Angela, Kim, and Ron were set up to share one of the rooms. The two brothers were to share one as well, leaving Ronan and her mother to bunk for the night. Needless to say, Ronan was not pleased with this. She would've much rather spent the night with Sutton, but then that would've left Derek and Karen to room together and that would've been strange and awkward for the both of them.
The three rooms were neighboring compartments on the second floor of the backside of the motel. The accommodations were nice enough, but had the undeniable repetition and monotony of standardized rooms: muted beige colors, thin carpet, starchy blackout curtains, and one large plastic sink near the back.
Upon entering their room, Kim's heart gave a small 'tap-tap' of awkwardness and her stomach clenched. There was only one bed.
Before anything else could be said, Angela brushed past her peers saying, "You two can have the bed. I'll take the floor."
She immediately began setting up camp against the wall, sprawling out a small roll-up cot and shaking out the extra blanket from the faux closet near the sink. Kim looked to her boyfriend, who wore an equally conflicted look on his face.
They had never slept together – in either sense of the word. Sure, Kim's head may have lulled sleepily onto Ron's shoulder once or twice when they were sitting next to each other, but that didn't count. And it wasn't like they were going to try the latter definition with someone sleeping near the foot of the bed. Still, Kim couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable about it.
Unlike a good handful of the girls Kim knew from school, she still had her . . . cherry intact, shall we say. There was one instance when she and Josh Mankey were dating where she came close, but something had stopped her. It just didn't feel right, and shortly after that she had begun to draw herself away from and it led to their subsequent break up.
Kim was sure Ron had not gone 'all the way' with a girl, either. She knew he would've told her if he did.
Kim tried to stifle the bubbling unease inside. Come on. It's not like Ron and I are actually gonna do it. We're just gonna sleep. That's it. No big.
It wasn't as if Angela had said: "I'll sleep on the floor while you two bang in the bed. Try and keep it quiet though."
"Thanks," Kim eventually said, and took a few steps into the room. Ron closed the door behind them.
Rooke, Margo, Drakken, and Shego continued on down the road a few more blocks until a lavish beach side resort appeared on their left side. Rooke pulled into its parking lot and turned off the car. Margo replaced her boots with her heels once again and got out.
"We have two penthouse suites reserved at this hotel at any given time," Rooke explained as the four strode into the massive, marble lined lobby.
Shego's mouth hung open in uncontrollable excitement. After having spent the last several days spending time with people she would've preferred not to spend time with and sleeping in strange, unusual places, this extravagant hotel was a welcome change. Chances were, she only get to spend two nights here, but Shego was not about to complain. Her green eyes travelled sporadically around the lobby, the lower right wing gaining her attention in particular.
A spa. Good lord. Shego was almost salivating.
Before she could investigate the establishment's offerings, Margo whisked her niece away to the lobby elevators. The doors closed automatically behind them and Rooke slid one of the two keycards the front desk gave him along the slot next to the numbered floor buttons. The elevator made a swift, nearly imperceptible accent to the top floor of the hotel. The doors noiselessly slid open and the four adults stepped onto the landing. There were pairs of large doors on opposing wall. Margo handed Shego the second keycard.
"Here," she said, placing the plastic in Shego's hand. "You and Dr. Drakken take the West Penthouse, enjoy the view of the sunset. Stephen and I will be in the East. Tomorrow morning, you and I will be going to the Capital Bank."
"What's there?"
"Accessories you and I will need for the party," Margo explained simply.
With that, the two couples parted ways, disappearing into their allotted suites.
"Wow," Drakken muttered as he took in the sight of the room.
"'Wow' is appropriate," Shego agreed, coming to stand at his side.
The penthouse was much airier than the suite they had shared at the Willard hotel back in DC. The décor was of an art deco persuasion and was decidedly monochromatic in color – lots of black and white, a splash of a primary color here and there. The far wall was a wide expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows, and they opened on to the suite's balcony.
Shego stepped down into the slightly sunken living room, watching as the waning sun created bright oranges and muted greys against the forms of the penthouse. Drakken meandered off into one of the adjoining rooms.
"Oh!" she heard him cry. "Pillow mints!"
She smirked and shook her head. Running her fingers through the knots in her ponytail, Shego followed Drakken's path into the bedroom. It was half the size of the living room – which was nothing to sniff at. The black and white color scheme bled through to this room, creating an artistic flow of sorts.
Drakken had already plucked one of the pillow mints from its cushion, and was sucking on it. He was now pawing through the mini fridge and the basket of snacks the hotel staff had left them.
Shego leaned against the bathroom doorframe as she fingered a particular gnarled knot. Stupid humidity. As she did, she absentmindedly glanced behind into the master bath. Large, tiled, clean. Shego suddenly couldn't remember the last time she had had a good shower or soak. A relieved smile grew across her face.
"I'm going to take a shower," she stated suddenly. She paused and looked at Drakken meaningfully.
"Okay," he mumbled, inspecting the nutrition information on a candy bar wrapper.
Shego felt her head shake from side to side automatically. Was he really so oblivious? Dropping the tangle she was working on, she walked over and grabbed the candy from him.
"Hey doofus. That wasn't just a statement. It was an invitation," Shego purred, raising a suggestive eyebrow.
"Oh," Drakken hiccupped; his eyes getting bigger and a strip of blush appeared across his nose and cheeks.
"Are you RSVPing?"
"Er – absolutely!" he declared, the automatic surprise he felt ebbing away.
"Good," Shego said, turning on her heel and strutting toward the bathroom.
In one slick move, she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the bedroom floor. Seconds after she disappeared into the bathroom, her bra came flying out the doorway and nearly whipped Drakken in the face. Not wanting to waste anymore time, the doctor followed his partner, trying to remove articles of clothing as he went – although, he was not as graceful in this skill as Shego was.
In an attempt to diffuse any hostility between mother and daughter, Derek and Sutton ordered a couple of pizzas and invited everyone in the group to their room to discuss the Bermuda Club mission. They set the greasy pies on the desk in their room, along with a roll of paper towels.
After loading up themselves up with a slice or two – or in Ron's case six – the group sat haphazardly around the two queen beds.
Once Ron perched on the foot of the farthest bed and Rufus immediately leapt from his cargo pants pocket. The naked mole rat scurried to the feast and grabbed a glob of cheese oozing from one of Ron's pizza slices. Rufus let out a squeal that sounded oddly like 'Cheese!' and stuffed the food into his mouth.
"Alright," Derek said, flopping down on one of the beds, "let's get this party started."
Angela, pizza slice held between her lips, pulled a large folded piece of paper from her bag. She shook it out and laid it on the bed.
"Disf iff uh boo prin off da Bermooda Triangle," Angela muffled through a mouthful of pizza.
"How did you two get in last time?" Sutton asked Kim.
Kim finished her bite and answered, "We swam to the West side of the island, and snuck in through a service entrance." She pointed to the appropriate points on the print.
"That may not necessarily work for us," Sutton sighed. "It'll probably work for you, though," he gestured to Karen, who nodded vaguely – the food in her mouth suddenly becoming difficult to sallow.
"What we need is to get into Brotherson's office," Angela stated, her eyes scanning the paper. "Banquet hall, stage, backstage area, bar, kitchen," she muttered, fingering the rooms clearly indicated. Other rooms were not labeled; mostly the rooms above the main floor of the club.
"Well, it's gotta be one of these," Sutton said, flipping through the blue prints to the upper levels of the club.
"There's well over fifty rooms total," Derek pointed out. "How are we going to search all fifty rooms without attracting attention?"
"Carefully," Ronan remarked.
The pizza soiree finished round about ten in the evening. The group returned to their rooms and retired for the night. Angela curled up on her mat and immediately fell asleep.
Kim and Ron stood side by side at the sink brushing their teeth. Kim spit and rinsed off her brush. She filled her hands with water and splashed her face. Ron finished with his teeth and brought the brush down to the sink where Rufus perched. The mole rat reached for the brush, bringing to his incisors and moved his face around the bristles. When the pet finished, both he and his owner spat.
After rinsing out the sink, the couple headed to bed; Rufus curled up in a fluffy, dry washcloth. Kim and Ron stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at it.
"So, which side do you want?" Ron asked timidly.
"Er – this side, I suppose," Kim answered, moving to the left side of the bed.
"I'll take this side then."
"Okay."
"Good."
The teens awkwardly slipped under the covers and stared at the ceiling. The pair lay in silence for a while, their hands resting above the covers, staring at the ceiling. Why was this so weird?
"Why is this so weird?" Ron asked, voicing Kim's thoughts.
Kim blinked. "I dunno."
Ron turned his head to look at her. Kim did the same, locking green eyes with brown. After a moment, a sweet smile crossed her face.
"It's not," she finally conceded.
Ron returned the grin and relaxed into the pillows.
Despite it being near eleven at night, Ronan was not ready to go to bed. She stood in the motel's parking lot, the light from the street lamps bathing her in an unnatural yellow wash. Karen had already lain down for the night, so Ronan didn't bother telling her that she was going out.
Hearing a clatter on the motel stairs, she turned from the street to see Sutton descend from the second floor. Ronan gave once last drag on the cigarette between her lips before tossing the butt to the ground and stepping on it.
"Where to?" Sutton asked, walking up to her.
Ronan looked back at the neon lit streets, glancing either way down the boulevard they were on. Grabbing his hand, they walked down the sidewalk together.
Eventually, they found their way to a hole-in-the-wall dive bar. It was crowded with all manner of drunks, slime balls, fake IDs, and the occasional hooker – pure character. The back room of the bar was less crowded and Ronan procured a worn vinyl booth as Sutton shouldered his way to the bar for drinks. He returned, brushing past a pair making out sloppily in the hallway. He set the dark brown bottle in front of Ronan and took his own seat.
"Thanks," Ronan muttered, bringing the bottle to her lips and taking a swig.
Sutton took a sip of his own drink. "So, is it going to be safe for you and your mom to spend the night in the same room together?"
"Hopefully I'll have enough of these to knock me on my ass before we get back to the hotel," Ronan responded gesturing the bottle in her hands.
Sutton smirked and gently bumped his bottle against hers. They both took a drink.
"Possible's boyfriend gave me a 'what-for' today before we left the ranch," Ronan said suddenly, setting down her bottle.
Sutton grinned. "Really? What'd he do?"
"Told me to leave Kim alone. He said I am a bad influence."
Sutton laughed. "Who? You?"
"That's what I said," Ronan replied, smiling. "I don't know where he gets the idea."
Sutton shook his head lightly, running his hand through his hair before taking another sip.
"Before I took Kim down to the basement, I had a somewhat similar talk with her."
Ronan cocked an eyebrow and asked, "What about?"
"She wanted to know what I possibly see in you."
Ronan's lips briefly dipped into a frown before taking a large mouthful of beer muttering: "Bitch."
"I thought it was rather rude," Sutton agreed.
The pair finished their drinks and Ronan got up to get two more. When she returned placed the two bottles on the table. Before she resumed her seat, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her back jeans pocket. As she flopped back down in the booth, she put one cigarette between her lips and held out another to Sutton. He smirked.
"You are a bad influence," he said, taking her offering.
Ronan took out her silver lighter, lit her cigarette and then tossed it over to Sutton. He lit his and then set the lighter down on the table. Sutton wasn't a habitual smoker. Every now and again he would light up, but he wasn't nearly dependent on it as Ronan was.
"Do you want to know what I said?" Sutton asked flirtatiously. He tapped the ash off the tip of his cigarette.
Ronan eyed him with interest. She, too, tapped her cigarette against the tray and took up her beer. "Sure. Why not?"
"I told her how we met –"
"The pub."
"Yeah. And how you threw your number and address at me."
Ronan snickered at the memory. "You were insufferably persistent," she commented.
Sutton smiled. "She didn't seem to understand. I finally told her that sometimes . . . you just know when you meet somebody important."
Ronan looked up from her drink. She was baffled how he could say stuff like that and not piss her off or make her uncomfortable. His tone was without exaggeration, beautifully sincere. Every now and again, when self-doubt and deprecation were foremost in her thoughts, she wondered how someone as altruistic as he could feel for someone like her. What had she done to deserve him?
When they had finished at the bar, Sutton and Ronan decided to stave off sleep further by walking the boardwalk butted up against the beach. The walk itself was lit with colorful paper lanterns, streetlights, and the neon glow of nearby restaurants and bars. Even for it being after midnight, there were still handfuls of people moving up and down the boardwalk, entering and exiting various establishments.
Ronan and Sutton walked near the far end of the wooden walkway, grazing the railing that separated beach and city. Their hands were clasped and fingers entwined, their gaits leisurely with tipsiness. The couple eventually came to a stand still, just listening to the soft crashes and sweeps of the ocean along the sand. Ronan turned her back to the sound and leaned against the railing. The sound behind her and the alcohol in her made her feel unusually content and fuzzy. Sutton came to hover in front of her, and she glanced up at his face.
"What happens when this is all over?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" Ronan asked, the words lazily slipping from her lips.
"When this mission is over what're you gonna do? What're your plans?"
Sutton stepped closer, falling into her personal space – a time-honored move of inebriation. Ronan didn't mind though. Her hands came to rest on his hips and slowly wound their way to his back, where her long fingers wandered over his shirt.
"I dunno," Ronan finally said. "I hadn't thought that far ahead. Why?"
Her right hand slipped into the back pocket of Sutton's jeans and rested there. Her head dipped forward, their cheekbones and hair grazing each other. Sutton's arms had wound themselves lightly around Ronan's waist.
"I just thought it might be nice," he began, "if you and I took a little break from the Syndicate. Travel."
Sutton tilted his head and kissed Ronan very softly.
"Where would we go?" she asked, once he pulled away. Her right hand remained in his jeans pocket, but her left hand travelled up his back possessively. She held the back of his neck and kissed him again in a surprisingly timid way.
"Anywhere," he answered as she released him. His right hand left her waist and cradled her head. "We could go up to London. Visit Prague. Venice. Crete. We could do something a little more exotic and go to Tibet or Bali. Maybe even New Zealand."
Ronan smiled and chuckled under her breath. It did sound nice.
"That sounds awesome."
"Good."
It wasn't long until their lips found each other again.
For once, Shego roused before Drakken. She stretched, sinking farther into the voluminous comforter. The soft sheets felt like lotion against her bare skin. After lying motionless for a second, she slipped out of the bed, careful not to disturb her sleeping partner. Shego reached her arms above her head and stood on her tippy-toes, stretching the full length of her naked body. Her long hair fell over her shoulders, covering her breasts as if she were some kind of mermaid. Lazily, she meandered to the bathroom and fetched one of the two hotel issued bathrobes. She cloaked herself in the silky fabric and went out to the suite's living area.
The hands of the wall clock read 8:45. Shego was mildly surprised that Drakken was not up yet. He was usually up and about well before now. She shrugged away the thought as she searched through the papers near the suite's phone. Once she found what she was looking for, Shego picked up the phone's receiver, punched in room service's number and ordered breakfast.
Drakken was finally encouraged out of bed by the smell of bacon, coffee and toast. He slowly unwound himself from the blanket, covered his bare form in the provided robe and shuffled out of the bedroom. Yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Drakken glanced around the suite's living room. Seeing that Shego had brought breakfast onto the balcony, he made his way over.
"Morning," Shego greeted as he slid open the glass door and out onto the landing.
"Morning," he returned as he took the chair across from hers. He nervously eyed the newspaper in her hands. "Anything in there?"
Shego closed the print, folded it in half and carelessly tossed in on the table, "Just updates on the dead and injured. No names," she added.
Drakken poured himself a cup of coffee. "How are you?" he asked, taking a sip.
She frowned and shrugged. "Angry."
Drakken reached for a piece of toast and took a bite, contemplating the sensibility of asking his next question.
"Are you gonna be okay tomorrow?' he asked carefully.
To his surprise, Shego wryly grinned.
"Why?" she queried. "Afraid I might lose my temper? C'mon Dr. D, it's not like I'm prone to emotional outbursts or anything. But seriously, though, the guy who's inviting us is a fucking asshole. It'll be difficult not to rip his face off."
Looking for something to distract her, Shego took up the small bowl of fruit next to her newspaper and popped a chunk of melon in her mouth. Her brow angled down giving a sense of intense concentration as she sucked on the fruit.
"What about . . . Minka, or Anya? Whoever she is."
Shego locked eyes with Drakken again. She bit down on the melon and rolled it over to the other side of her mouth. She eventually looked away.
"You're gonna hold my hand all night tomorrow," Shego finally said, after swallowing the melon. "You're not gonna let me go."
"You got it."
At eleven in the morning, Margo knocked on Shego and Drakken's suite door. Expecting her, Shego answered and the two women headed down to the ground floor. The got into the Lincoln they had arrived in and drove into the heart of downtown Miami.
Margo parked the car along the street outside of a large bank. After feeding the meter, the two women climbed up the front steps and entered the stone lobby of the building.
"I would like open my safe deposit boxes, please," Margo told the teller at the desk.
She handed over her identification card and the teller carefully inspected it; glancing down at the card and back up at Margo. Seeming satisfied, the teller punched in the numerical code on the card into her computer. She disappeared into a back room for a moment and came back with a small brass key.
Stepping out of the teller booth, she said, "Right this way, Ms. Gordon."
Margo and Shego were led through the lobby, towards the back of the building. Coming up to a door, the teller chose one of the keys attached to the lanyard around her neck and opened it. The door opened onto a case of descending stairs. At the bottom, they stepped onto a small landing. In front of them was a large circular metal door with no handles. The teller stepped forward, swiped her identification card across a scanner to the door's right and it flipped over, being replaced with a keypad. She punched in a code and stood back as the mechanisms of the safe door clinked and whirred. The heavy bang and grinding shift of metal accompanied the slow reveal of the room beyond the vault door.
Before stepping inside the safe, Margo muttered to her niece: "Don't get any funny ideas."
The teller approached the appropriate set of the boxes and took them from their resting places. She set them on the table along with the brass key.
"Just use the phone on the wall when you're down, and I'll come down to close up," the teller explained, gesturing to the red-corded phone mounted on the wall.
"Thank you," Margo said.
The teller took her leave, extracting a steel accordion gate that closed off the vault from the stairway and locked it. Margo and Shego watched as disappeared back up to the main floor.
"What's in the box?" Shego asked, turning back to the table.
Margo had taken up the key and began opening the three safety boxes in front of her. Looking over her aunt's shoulder, she felt her jaw involuntarily drop. Shimmering pools of precious stones and metals glimmered flirtatiously up at her.
"Jewelry," Margo answered simply. "We can't go bare to the party tomorrow."
"I take it you've already made arrangements for the rest of our ensemble?"
"Of course. We're not going to attend naked."
Gently, Margo lifted a necklace from one of the boxes. The setting was white gold and it was thick with large, irregular-shaped diamonds. Stepping around Shego, she brought the piece to rest along her niece's chest and latched it in the back.
"This is a piece Stephen recovered from a mission to Somalia," she explained. "Its total weight is approximately five hundred carats. For whatever reason, whoever set the diamonds didn't want to be bothered shaping them, so they were left in their raw state."
The necklace was heavy. Shego could feel the weight of jewelry pressing down against her skin. It was the price one paid for adorning such magnificent gems. Shego looked down at her chest and brought her fingers to the jagged facets of the stones.
"Diamonds in the rough," she muttered dryly.
"Much like you, my dear."
When Karen returned from the hotel's continental breakfast, she found Ronan still sprawled across her bed's comforter fully clothed. She had been like that when Karen left for breakfast about an hour earlier. It was time to get up. Without warning she flipped on the bright lights of their hotel room. Ronan flinched, moaned, reached for a pillow and covered her head.
"Mooooom."
"Get up."
"Why?" came the muffled question.
"Because it's eleven o'clock in the morning, that's why."
"So?" Ronan incredulously whined. "We have nothing to do until tomorrow night."
Karen walked over and sat on the edge of Ronan's bed. She sighed and looked down at her hands. She glanced over at her daughter and grabbed the pillow off her head. Without missing a beat, Ronan grabbed the second pillow on her bed and masked her head. Karen grabbed that one too. Ronan grunted angrily and flipped over on her backside. She eyed her mother with irritated lethargy.
"What?"
"How is tomorrow night going to go?" Karen asked. A hint of worry edged out her voice.
Ronan snorted. "Are you kidding me? You're the one who fucking volunteered for this shit. You hijacked my bike and snuck abroad my fucking plane."
"Do you need to swear so much?"
"Given the bullshit you've put me through, I think I'm entitled to speak whatever way I want."
"Don't even," Karen warned, her eyes folding into slits. "I've already conceded to the fact that I am not 'mother-of-the-year' – "
"I know, I know," Ronan sighed, finally sitting up. She breathed heavily through her nose and ran her fingers through her strip of hair. "Tomorrow will be tough. I won't lie: You have the hardest job. On top of that, you've never done anything like this before."
"Am I going to need . . . a gun, or something?"
Ronan grinned and chuckled. "No offense, Mom, but I am in no way going to give you a weapon."
"What do I do then if I get into trouble?"
"You should've thought of that before you snuck along on this excursion," Ronan pointed out. "You'll be fine."
"Thanks for not taking me back," Karen said after a beat.
"I get that you didn't want to be left behind," Ronan said, "but if Margo and Rooke hadn't given you the all clear, I would've taken you back to Grandma and Grandpa's. Just so we're clear."
The day passed without much incidence. The groups stayed in and around their respective accommodations. Very little was said about the upcoming mission.
Kim and Ron touched base with Wade and were elated to learn that Monique, Felix and their families had survived the decimation of Middleton – although, not completely unscathed. Once Felix had been pulled from the rubble, it was quickly determined that his legs would need to be amputated. Despite that, he was fine.
Kim and Angela also got in contact with Mr. Bailey to confirm their pick up and ride to the waters near The Bermuda Triangle nightclub.
Everything was as set as prepared as it could be – which was not as nearly as comforting as one could've hoped.
A/N: Not gonna lie: Not entirely happy with how this chapter turned out, but I couldn't seem to save it. Eh, it got done what needed to get done.
Regarding bedtime with Kim and Ron: Even though they've been friends forever and are in love and what not, I still see them being slightly uncomfortable with initiating anything sexually intimate. That, and, I'm not a huge fan of the pairing in the first place.
Please review! I know this chapter wasn't the best, but I hoped you liked it all the same. 'Til next time, my lovelies!
