Oh, and I own squat, whatsoever. Even these early chapters are not mine. Disney owns the characters, Scoutcraft Piratess owns the story concept, I'm just posting and playing with them. The early chapters will just be tweaked for some minor mistakes from the original (for some reason, the apostrophes and quotations got doubled in the copy she sent me).
Check out the latest chapter of The Darkness Within. Yeah, I know, I usually push other people's stories, but it was my chapter that just got updated, and I spent weeks working on it, plotting and writing, then scrapping it all to start over again just last week, using almost every moment of free time I had to finish it until my mind was numb and my fingers convulsed in agony. PLEASE, I'm begging, check it out! (I'm such a drama queen, aren't I? lol)
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The Ronless Factor - Chapter 10
Black. Of course the almighty mission clothes that had served Kim for several years now had to be black. The shirt, at least. Something she had found on the Club Banana clearance rack––something she never planned to admit. Ron had teased her for months about that move. But just because it was clearance didn't mean it wasn't nice. If it were the right store, there was nothing wrong with either a sale or a clearance. Monique had told her the many reasons items went to the clearance rack, and it was not always to victimize the unfortunate styles that failed the fashion time line. This particular shirt was comfy, simple, and utterly classic––she could get a few more years out of it. Besides, it was part of mission clothes; they fell under a completely different fashion umbrella. The shirt worked.
Only irony dictated the shirt would be black. She gingerly held the shirt up, part of her considering not to wear it. Black was a mourning color, and to be perfectly honest, she was getting sick and tired of black. Not that she had really worn it, except for the funeral, but... She herself couldn't fathom the way her mind was working.
"Okay, Kim," she said aloud. "It's the same old boring mission clothes you wear all the time. He would think you were being ridiculous and get a good old laugh out of it. You are being ridiculous."
Her mirror self seemed pretty commanding. That was a good sign. Listen to the good old reflection. She forced a smile and swung a fist, loaded with false confidence, into the air. "Now put on the shirt and stop dragging deep symbolism into it!"
Amazingly enough, it worked. It worked as long as she didn't think about it. Surprising how long it could take to put on a simple shirt. Especially when a museum was already in danger. Yet she had to sit around and play dress up. Well, maybe it was all she had going for her.
Rufus was ready in her pocket. He seemed to have calmed down from the cemetery. Slightly. He was still looking around, extremely jittery and... excited? That didn't make any sense. Of course, Kim wasn't any professional at reading the emotions of a naked mole rat. The way he had kept saying "Ron!" over and over again... she couldn't really blame him for that. He didn't need to keep repeating the name even after leaving, though. At least he had stopped that much.
She studied herself in the mirror. Same old Kim, ready to go out and kick some villain butt. Same as always. This wasn't anything big, even. Some moron robbing a museum. No big whatsoever. She wouldn't even break a sweat. Besides, this would be good for her. She couldn't let the world go to pieces. It might even be relaxing. Go in there and do what she always did. She could do it alone, easily.
"See, Rufus?" she said. "We're going to be fine."
She took a deep breath, saluted to the mirror, and went to meet her ride.
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No, it wasn't so bad. She forced herself into the museum, complacently smiling and nodding to the guards'' comments. Rufus looked around, mildly curious. Middleton Museum. Eh, she supposed there was stuff to look at; she wasn't much in the mood for a museum tour. Fortunately there would be other distractions.
"We've revamped," the guard was saying, "our security systems. We thought it a good idea considering how many times we've had to hire you."
Too bad they couldn't do that to cars, she thought bitterly. Perhaps she should say something to the guard. "So... the thing is that you just can't find the guys?"
He shook his head, the beginnings of a sheepish smile welling up. "I'm afraid not. We know they've broken past the outer walls but... we haven't actually revealed where we're hiding the vase––"
"A vase," Kim echoed, fingering the wall. "Is that what you think these robbers are after?"
"Ninety-nine percent sure. It's from 9th century Russia, one of a kind. We had it on loan... and it just arrived this morning. We can't figure why else they'd come in on such a day. Or why they haven't attacked anything else yet."
"So they haven't reached the vase yet?"
The guard shook his head, rather embarrassed. "I hate to sound paranoid, and I heard about––"
She didn't want to hear a word about that. She raised her hand, willing herself to be normal. "Thanks, but that's really not our problem right now. This vase sounds incredibly valuable, and I'm sure the citizens of Middleton would be delighted to see it. So if they haven't reached the vase yet, how about you take me to where it is and I'll just..." The easiest thing to do in this situation. "Guard it."
The guard looked ready to shed tears of joy. "Oh, Miss Possible, that would be wonderful! As long as you don't mind."
"No big." Great. There was blown the chance for a distraction. A run-down with bullies might have been more preferable. But, clearly, she didn't care enough. Rufus squeaked a false "boring" before curling up in her pocket, probably to await something better, and Kim followed the guard through the maze of guardian lasers.
"Here it is," the guard finally said in breathless awe as he gestured at a large blue cylinder. "Our prize exhibit for the next three months." Then he stood, face beaming.
Oh, yes. A friendly, respectful comment. "It really is beautiful. Don't worry, Rufus and I won't let anything happen to it."
"I'm sure you won't. The curator will be pleased." He tossed one more look at his evident baby, then marched away to do whatever museum guards did.
Kim sighed deeply and began scanning the surrounding hallways. Yes, this would be easy. Too easy to be a distraction, but still easy. At least she was back out here.
Maybe she didn't have to do this. Maybe someone would attack, and everything would be fine. She didn't have to fight. Not if she didn't want to. Which she didn't. Except for the fact that she "could do anything."
Except get through this. Without Ron.
They'd understand if something went wrong. Maybe she could just go back home. It was stupid to be out here. They'd understand what it was like, what she was going through. She could just go back and hide from the world.
The museum was silent, as silent as it could be with electricity humming in every direction. But sound tended to go down when patrons were kicked out on a security breech. Sad, really. Maybe the guard could come back. She really needed someone to talk to. One that could talk back properly. That wasn't a naked mole rat.
She sighed again and switched her attention to the vase. It was pretty. Old, clearly. Valuable, yes. Still, she couldn't understand why anyone would want to steal it. Besides the opportunity of selling it on the black market. Boy, she really was losing it.
"I didn't give this hotel enough credit." A single set of footsteps hit the marble floor behind her as the deep voice broke out. "They actually called the famous Kim Possible."
Instinctively she spun around. The usual class B thief, complete with black mask. No one of any importance. Not that such a thing mattered. Against her will the adrenalin came. Rufus poked his head out, suddenly very aware, ready to do his little odd ball stunts.
Just like before.
Except for Ron.
No, she told herself. Not now, not on a mission. Don't even think about it.
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Okay, so maybe it hadn't been necessary to wander all the way down to downtown Middleton just to haunt a museum. This guy was nothing. Heck, he was even wearing the cliché black mask! Ron hung back in the corner, still trying to catch his breath. Which was stupid. Being dead, he shouldn't have to worry about stuff like that, according to any theory that made sense, anyway. He no longer had a body to worry about. Yet here he was, panting away without real lungs, after tearing all the way across town, to watch Kim beat up some punk loser. Which was always good, of course.
And she didn't seem to be having any trouble. She sprang forward, high kick ready, while the dude slid into some lame martial arts pose.
Too tall to be the jerk.
Ron kicked into the wall. Excuse him for being a bit paranoid. No, not paranoid. Properly worried about someone he cared about. Was that a crime to get worried when a murderer was on the loose?
Apparently it was. Well, he could enjoy this, anyway. Another fight. Kim kicking butt. This would be the part where he would start cheering. Or help.
Not like that was going to happen. He stepped back, feeling very strange. Feeling he didn't really recognize.
He had never been much help, anyway.
Kim sprang her kick toward the idiot martial artist wannabe.
The pose fell. In one quick motion, the thief grabbed her leg and swung out. With a defiant shriek Kim rolled out of the way. Or attempted to. She fell to the marble with a heavy thud.
"Kim!" Ron called out instinctively.
Rufus slipped from her pocket, throwing himself at the thief. One good bite on the ankle... It was enough. The man screamed, letting go of Kim, who immediately jumped back to her feet.
Only the thief was also quick on the recovery. He leaped at her, barely missing as she twisted out of the way. Of course, he was back on his feet.
"Ah," Kim said with a surprising grin. "A challenge."
It was okay, Ron told himself. It was okay. So it wasn't some punk loser. But Kim had fought people before. Decent fighters. Good fighters.
The dude leapt, almost stepping on Rufus, to the vase's display area. The guy must have taken ballet or gymnastics or... something. With an elegant flip he leaped forward, catching Kim around the waist and throwing her back to the ground.
"Come on, KP!" Ron screamed, running forward in the attempt of doing nothing. "Come on!"
It was only with visible effort she freed herself.
This was always the part where he would come in and provide some idiotic distraction.
And exactly what was the supposed to be this time around?
Rufus. Rufus could know he was there.
Trying his best not to panic, Ron cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted. "Rufus!"
Rufus was just in a thing of fury.
Ron called again.
Rufus' gaze crossed the room, bouncing off the walls in confusion before finally focusing. On Ron.
Now he just had to get him to do something. If Rufus didn't freak out.
He looked about to. His eyes went wide, whiskers twitched. All the classic signs of excitement. "Ron!"
Kim was too busy guarding herself to listen.
"Save Kim, buddy!" Rufus called. "That's what you have to do! You have to––" Stupid. What was a naked mole rat supposed to do in this situation? Could Rufus even hear him? "Look, just do something. There's this guy who––"
Another dark figure dropped from the ceiling, almost landing on top of Kim.
Speak of the devil. Both Ron and Rufus stared in surprise.
"Uh oh," said Rufus.
"Uh oh, indeed," Ron muttered.
It was the jerk.
Ron railed his finger in the man's direction. "That's him, Rufus! That's the guy––"
Rufus shrieked and darted out of the way as the jerk sunk a fist down next to him.
Dang it. Dang it and much worse things.
And Kim was still busy with the first one.
But it would be okay. It had to be okay. Kim could take both of them. Just because the first one was amazingly good and––
It was evident she was growing weary. The first guy was... really, really good.
The jerk was closing in on Kim.
Ron wasn't so sure she saw the second attacker. The guy working for people that wanted her dead.
No, she saw him. Her eyes lit in panic as they fell over him, as she dodged the first guy.
They were both really good.
She couldn't get to the second guy. The most important one.
Gosh darn it, this was so not happening!
The second guy, the jerk, was crossing behind her.
The flash of the headlights in the rearview mirror...
"No! Kim!" Ron screamed in a voice that hurt his own ears. Without thinking he ran forward and jumped. Just over that expensive vase thing's stand.
His arm brushed something hard. Something moved. Slid.
Something blue and fragile teetered on the stand's edge briefly before shattering to the ground.
Time seemed to freeze. The attacker froze, in the middle of slamming a punch into her face in jaw-breaking glory, and joined her to stare in horror as the vase, the expensive 9th-century Russian vase that everyone seemed to want slid a good two feet across the stand's surface. Slide two feet and fall in a broken porcelain wonder.
Slide by itself.
It wasn't possible.
There hadn't been an earthquake or anything while she had been fighting, had there? That had happened once; it was hard to focus on the stability of the world when you were doing back flips through the air. Not her fault.
But nothing else had moved.
That guard was going to kill her.
Rufus actually applauded.
"Now!" said the new guy, shaking into recovery.
"But, Cory––" the first guy came in, eyes still fixed on the porcelain mess. "But––"
Thoughts were slow in coming. She had to keep thinking. Whatever had happened, it was a distraction. A distraction she greatly needed.
Kim dived back and knocked the first guy to the ground, pinning his arms to the marble. There was no fight; he wasn't with it enough to fight back. "I win."
The second guy swore behind her. She'd take care of him. If he were also surprised by that... vase incident.
The vase. The vase she promised to protect. The one shattered.
The one that moved all by itself.
Maybe she was just seeing things. She whipped her head back. The new thief was moving in closer. Cory, his name was. Okay.
"Hands up, you!"
Great. Now the cops arrived, fronted by the guard having the love affair with the vase.
Another curse. Then, before even Kim could move, he was springing toward the ceiling.
Cops swarmed in on the pinned guy, muttering something about someone going after the other one.
Cops were so useless. Still trying to clear her mind, Kim stared up.
There wasn't an exit in the ceiling. Maybe a trap door she didn't know about. That the guard didn't know about.
She suddenly felt very faint.
"Ron!" Rufus squeaked again.
They both had issues.
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The jerk had escaped. Cory, or whatever his name was. Ron watched sulking as the shattered pottery was vacuumed up, the guard explaining things the whole time.
"Sorry to scare you like that, Miss Possible," he was saying. "The real was one was undergoing some cleaning. We figured a fake one would lure any thieves, if they showed, away from the real one. This... some guy who used to work at Pier 1 made this."
"As long as the real vase is still safe, sir," Kim said happily. "I'm just sorry that other thief got away."
"It's fine, you did the best you could."
Whatever, Ron thought. Jerk Cory was still on the loose. When was the next time he would spring? In the museum again? Where there would be a real priceless vase to destroy?
How had he managed to knock that over? Was it like the tombstone? Now this was something to think about.
Rufus was out of the picture. After so many shouts of "Ron!" Kim had quarantined him in her pocket. Well enough. There seemed to be a focus thing––Rufus had to be staring directly at him.
This ghost thing was really stupid.
Another vase was in the room, looking even cheaper than the Pier 1 copy. Stupid, stupid vase.
But it had been so cool knocking the other one away. He sunk his fist into it. Nothing. He tried again. Focus. Focus. Rita did it.
His fingers slid over it. Hard. Two inches.
"Boo-yah!"
He tried again. Nothing.
Oh, well. He stepped back, eyes focused on the vase. There had to be some cheap trick to this, there had to be. 101 on how to knock over expensive vases in an empty museum.
"Thanks so much, Miss Possible, for all you've done," the guard was saying, tipping his hat to her.
"I'm only sorry the other one got away," Kim replied softly. "Um, if it's okay with you, I was wondering if... I could stay here a moment? I love the exhibit, so..."
The guard smiled gently, as if offering a reward. "Of course. Stay as long as you like. Again, on behalf of the museum, I thank you."
Since when did Kim care about vases? She liked the cool stuff, the mummies, the architecture...
As soon as the guard was gone, Kim sat on the floor, tucked her knees in, and began to cry.
After Ron had just saved her life. Oh, man. "Kim, don't."
Rufus crawled out, climbed to her knees, and offered a sympathetic whimper.
Okay, so Kim was crying. That was okay. Ron could use Rufus to...
Someone else was in the room. Rita. She winked at Ron, pulled a very heavy looking knife out from her blouse, and walked over to Kim. Hadn't he seen the knife in some other exhibit?
"Rita?" Ron asked.
Carefully balancing the knife in her arms, she put a finger to her lips, then smiled.
Then she prepared to swing the knife at Kim.
Knives. Ron knew knives well. Quite well, in fact, even considering the fact that he had never owned one. But the simple territory of constantly facing villains brought with it that much knowledge. Forget that fact. Any idiot knew what a knife could do. They cut, that's what they did, deep and quick. At least the freshly sharpened ones. But some old knife with a frighteningly curved blade, too heavy for even Rita, that had probably descended from some ancient culture and hadn't been cleaned or sharpened since… Disgusting. What damage would that do? That definitely was not healthy.
The headlines flashed like meteors through his mind. "Teen hero killed by two thousand year-old relic." And he could see that relic now, in his Rita's apparently capable hands, plunging down through the air…
The funky table was forgotten. He skidded over the marble floor, the knife in Rita's hand burning in his eyes. "What are you doing?"
Rita sent him another smile, almost laughing now. It did not last long. "Ron, just--!"
The impact was harder than Ron had anticipated. His left foot slid hard past Kim while the other drove hard into Rita's leg. She was no longer laughing, her eyes wide as she fought for balance.
Hah, Ron thought. So she wouldn't be so skilled in that regard. Even experienced ghosts gave into the pressures of gravity!
No such luck. She yanked her leg free with enough force to bring him full down to the floor.
Darn. He took a deep breath of the marble and sat up. The knife, at least, had obeyed physics and football rules and was now in a worthy position of halfway across the hall next to a display of Mesoamerican pottery. Kim had lain off crying and was now staring in deserved amazement.
"How long has that been there, Rufus?" she asked, climbing to her feet and roughly wiping her eyes.
"Long enough to save your life," Rita said snidely. "Really, kid, you aren't a help to anyone."
Ron looked up at her, his head still whirling. "What? I just saved her life while you--"
One dark eyebrow lowered with a frown. "I was talking to your girlfriend there. If you can talk to people who can hear you, I think I'm certainly allowed to safely talk to people who cannot hear me. Notice the difference, Ron?"
She was talking to Kim? She had the nerve to talk to Kim just because Kim couldn't hear her? Ron jumped up, feeling the disaster of the car accident all over again. "Oh? So you guys can just go around chatting to whoever you plan to kill?"
"Kill?" Rita reached a hand into her pockets, pulled out a carton of cigarettes, and studied her options. Geez, but they were all the same thing. "Did you just say kill?"
He waited for his body, or spirit, or whatever he had now, to do something. This was when the adrenalin was supposed to rush in, wasn't it? This was when he was supposed to hit her or kick her or open up some of that awesome monkey kung fu on her. But it wasn't happening. The crazy ghost lady had just tried to kill Kim, and all he could do was drown in the sure insanity of it. He raised a fist, willing it to do something. Not that he could imagine what he could do to a ghost. Maybe that was why nothing was happening. But he still wanted so much to do something to her. "Yes, kill! Duh! You had that knife thing!" He still had the fist; he loosened it to clutch an invisible knife and jab it at an invisible person. "You were going to… to…" He couldn't say it.
Rita seemed to find that amusing. "Stab her? Slice her pretty head off? Were those the words you were searching for?"
Were all females this way? "Is this a trick?"
She shrugged, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it with a rather strange flick of her fingers. "Define trick." She inhaled, her eyes closing. "Really, I thought you would appreciate that."
"Appreciate it?" His fist fell. Now he really wanted to do something, do something before Rita rushed back to the place where Kim now stood with the knife, watching for more attackers, and finished her off. "You… you tried to kill her! That's sort of what I'm not going for right now! Considering what the other dude tried."
Now she really was laughing. Was this all a joke to her? "I'm just saying it was a solution to the soul mate problem. I highly doubt we're going to get you back in that body, so I figure if your Kim dies, she can be with you and everyone's happy."
"But——" He stopped. What sort of twisted logic of every ghost-romance story was that? "But I don't want Kim to die!"
"And you probably didn't want yourself to die. See? Two wrongs can make a right. Imagine how happy you'd be."
He took a step back, hand brushing into the display case. "Lady, you are sick."
She rolled her eyes, smoke now encircling her head. "Oh, for crying out loud, kid, I wasn't going to do anything! But…" She took another drag. "I am saying it would solve your problem. And it would be me killing her, not your little murderer friend. Or perhaps you'd like to do it yourself?"
She was completely insane. Kim would not die. "Don't go near her again!"
Another smile, long and deep. "Then maybe you should stop the other guy." With another wink, she vanished.
Just as Ron's fist swung up in an actual burst of fury. "Rita!" he shouted. "Rita!" She was gone, and all he could hear was himself screaming in the empty halls of a museum. "Rita!" He flipped around, then again, hoping to see her reappear somewhere else like in a magician's show. She was apparently insane enough to do so. But she was nowhere. He sunk back, suddenly weak. He had trusted Rita. Even if she really had been joking, that had been a sick joke.
Not like he'd ever do the same thing.
Maybe it would be funny to someone else. The one faking the murderer. But what if she hadn't dropped the knife?
Kim was still there, telling Rufus something about stupid thieves and needing to return the knife to wherever it had come from. Her hair was disheveled; she had probably done one of her crazy jumps up to the vents, just to have an extra look around. Soon she would be off to the security guards with a warning and the knife. Did she have any idea how close to dying she had come? Twice?
"Rufus," Ron called. The naked mole rat had once again escaped down in Kim's pocket. No use. It didn't seem Rufus could hear him.
Great. He had a pet that could not hear him as his only way to warn Kim. Maybe he could write a note… Ron held up his hand, wriggling his fingers. Oh, yes. That was a wonderful idea. By the time he was at the ability to hold a pen, Kim would be six feet under.
Just like every other corpse in the cemetery. But her spirit…
The idea was there, apparently, still smothered in the back of his mind where Rita had stashed it. If there were some great cosmic soul mate thing to all of this… maybe it wouldn't be so bad if something did happen to Kim….
"No," he said aloud. "No, Ron, you're not even going to think about that." He slammed his hand into his forehead, hoping to chase the thought away. "No."
At least it made him feel better. There. The idea was gone. There would be other ways to warn Kim. And maybe it wasn't so much to want to hold a pen. Might as well try again. The display case wasn't so different from the tombstone.
"Touch it," he muttered. "Touch it."
His hand continued to slide into glass. Dang. But then…… He couldn't move any further. Instinctively he tore his hand away, and it almost hurt. His wrist had actually, for the tenth of a second, caught in the glass.
"Boo-ya," he muttered. So what if it wasn't holding a pen? He could touch glass and knock over a vase. That had to count for something.
But it wasn't going to warn Kim.
Perhaps if he screamed loud enough, right into Rufus' ears, the little guy would hear him. Maybe naked mole rats were better at that sort of thing than humans.
Only Kim really was now gone.
Dang. She could have at least told him. So he could chase her and Rufus down, or… it probably wouldn't work. And Kim wasn't all that good at Rufus speak anyway. It wasn't like Bonnie's perfect English.
Bonnie. Ron sighed. So he had told her he wouldn't bother again. Well, there wasn't another option, and she was used to him bothering her.
He smiled. This might actually be fun.
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Reposter's Notes – I debated about cutting this in half, and going for the cliffie, but thought I'd have mercy and show the whole thing. Enjoy!