11. The Date
---
Ron came up the stairs from his basement laboratory to find Monty lingering at the doorway holding Ron's coat. This was odd the first few times that he came across the servant in such a state this afternoon but now Ron was expecting it. He was, however, starting to suspect that else was going on other than the obvious.
"Time to leave yet, sir?" asked Monty, holding out the coat expectantly.
"Not… yet," said Ron, turning away from the offered coat.
"You don't want to miss your train," reminded Monty.
"No risk of that," said Ron, heading for the stairs to the second floor. "Everything about this evening has been planned to the second." He tapped the face of his watch for emphasis.
"You know what they say about best laid plans."
Ron paused on the stairs and looked back. "Yeah, I do know. And speaking of which... Monty, do you have any plans for this evening?"
Monty turned his eyes up and to the side. "Oh, you know, the usual. Polishing silver, sorting the mail, sitting down for some Faulty Towers."
Ron frowned. "Faulty Towers hasn't been on in years," he said. "And no matter how well you play the Jeeves role, I know you're just biding your time."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Monty said plainly.
"Sure you don't," said Ron. "Well, just in case, I've left a little friend for you to play with while we're gone so you don't get bored."
It was Monty's turn to frown now. "A friend," he repeated.
"Oh, it's a great pal," said Ron, cheerily. "It's connected to the surveillance cameras we installed while setting the trap for Kim's parents. It's a program designed to analyze your activities and determine if they're malicious or not. If it determines you're doing something bad, then, ZAP! Your collar gives you a friendly reminder."
"HOW exactly does it determine I'm doing something bad?" asked Monty, forcefully.
"Oh, it's all very technical," Ron waved him off. "Learning algorithms and neural nets and so forth. Take way too long to get you to understand. You'll just have to trust that I do, and I know it won't zap you unless it has a really good reason to."
"How refreshingly different," Monty said sarcastically. He pulled gently at the control collar. It was covered mostly by the collared shirts and tie he wore under his jacket, but even if it couldn't be seen, he could still feel it, and it constantly played at his mind.
"Cheer up, old boy," Ron said, slapping Monty on the back. "You've been doing great recently, haven't been zapped in weeks, right?"
"Except randomly when I'm sleeping," grumbled Monty.
"Really?" said Ron, genuinely surprised. "Hmm, it shouldn't be doing that. What are your dreams like?"
"Bliss," said Monty. Actually, his dreams often took the form of bizarre scenarios where he returned to his monkey ninjas and went in search of some asinine legend of a mystic monkey that could control time. Completely foolish, but he had little control of what his mind conjured when he was asleep.
"Maybe you just toss too much," said Ron. "I'll see about finding a way to disable the collar whenever you enter REM sleep."
"You're too kind," said Monty, again, thick with sarcasm. It was lost on Ron this time.
"Oh, you're welcome," he said, pulling out his ever-present notepad and jotting some things down. "Okay, I think everything is ready here." He crossed something off his notepad, then flipped the page. "Ah, right, I almost forgot." Ron stuffed the pad back into his pocket. "How would you like to be rid of that collar?"
Monty blinked, too stunned for words. Had he really just heard what he thought he heard?
"No?" said Ron, when the silence had lingered long enough.
"No! I mean, yes, I would," said Monty quickly.
"Great," nodded Ron. He turned and ran back down the stairs into the basement. Monty stared after him unsure if he should be following or if the question before was merely a cruel joke by his thoughtless master. A minute later, the steps returned and Ron appeared holding a box with a metal device that had a vaguely cylindrical shape.
"Uh," sounded Monty, looking into the box.
"This is a device we recovered from Dementor's lab," explained Ron. "Though I've not had any time to work on it, I think it's a weapon of some sort. It got a little jostled in the trip back but it should be fine."
"Okay." Monty wasn't sure where this was going yet. "So?"
"So I want you to figure out how it works," said Ron, simply. "Get this potentially deadly weapon working and give it to us, and I'll believe that you're trustworthy enough to take off the collar."
Monty looked in the box again. It was a little outside his area of expertise, but he certainly wasn't bad at figuring out complex devices. The number of monkey shrines protected by logic defying booby-traps he'd run into in the last few years was staggering. "That's it?" he clarified. "Figure out how it kills and you'll take the collar off?"
"Yeah," shrugged Ron, which was about all he could do while holding the box. "Why? You think I should make it harder?"
"No!" Monty said brusquely, then snatched the box. He headed back towards the dining room in the back half of the castle, eager to start examining it. He passed Kim as he was leaving the hall.
"Hey, Monty," said Kim, cheerfully.
"NNng," grunted Monty as he quickly moved past.
Kim came up to Ron, still staring back at Monty. "What's up with him?" she asked.
Ron looked up. "Hm? Oh, I just gave him a little project to work on while we're gone. Nothing big."
"Okay," said Kim, dismissing it from her mind. She looked to Ron. "Ready to go?"
"Yup," said Ron. "Just need to grab my coat."
"So, what's on the agenda," said Kim as she walked with her boyfriend to the coat closet. "Some Bueno Nacho in town then a trip to the arcade for some Zombie Fighter 2 Super Tyrant Edition?"
Ron looked at Kim with a raised eyebrow.
Kim grinned. "Just testing, naco-boy," she said.
Ron frowned briefly and pulled out his notepad again. "That reminds me, we need to kidnap, brainwash, or otherwise hire a lawyer. I've only ever seen one royalty check from Bueno Nacho. I think they're holding out on me." He scribbled in his notepad while Kim grabbed her coat. "And just for that, I'm not telling you what we're doing tonight."
Kim handed Ron his coat while latter stowed his notepad again. "Suit yourself," she said. "But the closer to the truth I am, the more time you're spending in stowage on the train ride back."
Ron stared, disappointed. "How did you know we're taking a train?"
Kim half-smiled. "Trade secret." She headed for the door.
Ron watched her for a few steps. "Monty told you," he said suddenly. "Didn't he?" Kim smiled wider but didn't say anything.
"What else did he tell you?" pressed Ron.
"Oh, this and that," said Kim as she reached the door.
"Come on, tell me," said Ron.
"Nope," said Kim. "You wouldn't tell me so I'm not telling you."
"You already knew what I was keeping from you, though!" complained Ron.
"Did I?" asked Kim. She opened the door and quickly slipped out.
"Kim!" called Ron after her.
---
The train ride to London was lengthy, which Ron had known in advance, and as such had prepared an agenda of things to talk about during the multi-hour trip. He got through section 'A', parts 1 and 2 before Kim grabbed the paper from him, crumbled it up, and stuck it into the purse of a passing woman. Ron was silent for a few minutes then, unsure of whether he should continue without the agenda or deviate.
"I thought you'd want to hear about those plans," offered Ron, after the silence had become near deafening.
"No work on this trip," stated Kim plainly. She looked very cross. "This is a date, which means it's about you and me, not you me and the whole world."
"Well, we're part of the world," offered Ron.
Kim shook her head in frustration. "I can't believe we didn't just use the teleporter. So stupid."
"Well, I had wanted to use the time—" started Ron.
"For a planning session, I get it," said Kim. "But I'm not interested in that right now, or in your agenda for our conversations."
Ron looked down into his lap, a little disappointed. He had to deviate, that much was clear, but he wasn't very good at that. He wasn't very good at planning either, to be fair, but with enough extra time to prepare, he could do it adequately. But now he had to fire from the hip, and the only thing he had a record of accomplishing when doing that was losing his pants and that wasn't the way he intended this date to end.
More minutes of silence passed between the two of them and Kim pulled a magazine out from the pocket of the chair in front of her to read. It was beat up and someone had scribbled in the teeth of all the pictures, but it at least gave her something to concentrate on during the oppressive quiet that Ron seemed determined not to disturb.
Ron continued to ponder his options. What should I talk about? What CAN I talk about that isn't related to video games, cooking, or how I've figured out how to miniaturize the laser apparatus for the bank job? I'm sure she would be interested in the laser if we weren't on this date. Or even the sonic disrupter I adapted from the super hearing aid that we took from Dementors. But no, we're on a 'date' which means I can't talk about anything I like...
Ron considered Felix's advice. Talk about what SHE likes. Well, what does she like? Cheerleading, saving the world, taking over the world, and cuddle buddies. Well, I imagine two of those things are off-limits and what can I really offer about cheerleading?
"You know," Ron started, almost surprised to hear himself start talking. "The—uh, the British Museum has a display about a series of small costumed straw dolls they found in the tomb of Senusret III."
Kim stopped reading and stared at Ron. The topic had just come from out of left field as far as she could tell. "Er, okay," she said, willing to see where this was going.
"They've apparently found remnants of similar dolls in Asia and Eastern Europe, suggesting they may have been traded," added Ron. "Scraps of cloth found with the dolls make it look like they were dressed in a variety of cloths from all over the area. If that's true, then they're probably the first kind of traded and collected dolls."
Kim paused to consider what Ron was telling her. "So," she started. "They're like an ancient Egyptian Cuddle Buddy?"
Ron nodded. "Yeah, that's what they think."
A smile slowly crept across Kim's face as she imagined the ancient pharaohs ruling the vast Egyptian empire, considered to be gods by the people of that era, going to sleep at night with a small Pandaroo tucked under their arm. Kim finally laughed at the thought.
"You're joking," Kim said between laughs.
"Nah, actually, Monty was talking about it the other day," said Ron.
"Monty was talking to you?" said Kim, skeptically. "Willingly?"
"Well," hedged Ron. "I may have zapped him the other day when blew me off and implied that the collar was now interpreting social sabotage the same way as actual sabotage."
"Oh, that's devious," said Kim, with a nod.
"You should talk," said Ron, smirking. "How many times did you call for Monty to fetch you a cup of tea on Sunday?"
"Once every eight minutes," said Kim. "And once every hour I'd drop my spoon and have him get me a new one."
"Yeah, that's devious," said Ron.
"Eh, it wasn't as fun as I thought it would be," said Kim. "And I think I killed one of the plants in the sitting room with all the tea I dumped in it."
"I was trying to figure out why that one by the fireplace was turning brown," said Ron, thoughtfully. "I thought it needed more light."
"You hadn't gotten to the root of the problem," laughed Kim.
"Ouch," said Ron, feigning injury from such a terrible pun while trying to come up with one that he could throw back. "Well, I—"
The train quickly started to decelerate, surprising most of the people in the train car with Kim and Ron and cutting off Ron's follow-up pun, mid sentence, as he head lurched forward toward the back of the seat in front of him.
"Ow," Ron said, this time honestly rubbing the bruise on his forehead.
Kim managed to keep herself from striking the curved seat in front of her, but only barely. She looked past Ron out the window to see the scenery slowly falling to a crawl before stopping entirely.
"What's going on?" asked Kim, looking around.
"Beats me," said Ron. "This wasn't on the agenda."
Kim stood and leaned over Ron to put her face against the window. She looked ahead. "I can't see anything," she said. "But we're pretty far back."
"I'm sure it's just a cow on the tracks," said Ron. He checked his watch. "They'll clear it in a few minutes."
"I think I see flashing lights up ahead," said Kim. "It might be police."
Ron frowned. "Maybe they need police help to clear the cow."
"Something's probably wrong," said Kim. She sat back down in her chair and stared ahead, clearly in thought.
Ron looked at her and pieced something together in his head. He then looked at his watch in a very exaggerated fashion, plainly in Kim's sight.
"Let's go see what it is," said Kim, standing again.
Ron sighed, his pantomime clearly lost on his girlfriend. "All right," he said as he stood. "Let's go see what it is."
---
The train finally pulled into King's Cross station in London and Ron and Kim departed with the crowd of other passengers, many of which held their noses as they walked past the pair of teens. Ron slowly moved to the network map on the wall of the station while Kim looked around the long waiting area.
"Okay, we need to cross over to the Piccadilly line," said Ron. He then looked down at himself. He hadn't gotten his pants and shirt too badly covered in mud, but his coat was covered from about under his arms to the tails of his coat. He'd have to get rid of it when this day was over, preferably in a fire.
Kim's jeans were covered in muck along with the hem of her shirt and her coat, but it all seemed to be of little consequence to her given her beaming smile. She took Ron's arm as they walked through the connecting corridors between the rail line and the Underground.
"I'm very dirty," Ron said, depressingly. He pulled at his muck crusted sleeve to expose his watch. "And we're very late."
"Cheer up!" announced Kim, with a smile. "I'm sure they'll still seat us. And it's just a little mud."
"I think we clearly smell," said Ron. "Based on the way everyone was holding their noses around us."
Kim reached into her bag which she had slung over her shoulder. She pulled out a small glass bottle with a spray top. Pointing it at Ron, she spritzed him three times then herself twice and returned the vial to her bag. "There we go, French bath."
"I can't believe you're so cheerful," said Ron. He expected her to get upset again when they discovered that it wasn't a cow on the tracks but a goat. And not just one goat, but eighteen goats. So he was stunned when she offered to help move the goats off the tracks. Then when a pair of the goats wandered off and fell into the ravine, he expected her to leave them to their fate, but instead she jumped in and saved them from being carried along by the current. Ron, of course, helped her every step along the way, even when the goats were being stubborn about walking up hill and the mud was slippery so...
Ron sighed again. "So dirty," he said.
"It was fun," said Kim, leaning against Ron as they walked. "Like we used to do."
"Used to?" asked Ron.
"Yeah, before we got all..." Kim trailed off. She seemed conflicted on what she about to say. "Yeah, fun." She nodded.
---
Piccadilly Circus is a thoroughfare at the intersection of several major roads near to the center of London. Much like Times Square in Manhattan in the US, it's at the center of several major shopping avenues and is lit ablaze at night by the magic of dozens of neon and LCD signs lining the buildings on every side. When Kim and Ron emerged from the Underground stations directly beneath the plaza, they were welcomed by throngs of people moving past, on their way to shopping, meeting with friends, or just passing through. To one side of the plaza, an open area was covered with about a dozen and a half easels each occupied by a different artist offering to sketch a portrait of anyone with a heavy wallet.
Kim looked around the plaza in awe for several moments. She'd been here before, but usually on her way to someplace else or to head off some villain or criminal she was chasing on foot. Even when they had come here a few months earlier, they had a clear objective and a list of things to buy that didn't include time for dawdling. Now, though, she saw it with new eyes and had to admit it was impressive.
"This way, KP," said Ron after he got his bearings. "The restaurant is just off the plaza."
Kim followed Ron as they pushed through the crowds towards one of the streets that made up the famous square. A few storefronts for clothes and jewelry later and Ron led her into a smallish restaurant that had an elegantly painted sign above it that said 'Tabbouleh Garden.' Inside, the restaurant wasn't very big, but it was moderately lit with accent candles on the walls, simple round tables covered in black tablecloths, and a series of artistic photographs on the walls of desert cities and features. The tables, which numbered no more than thirty, were mostly occupied by a variety of men and woman, most dressed nicely.
"Wow," said Kim, genuinely impressed with the atmosphere. "So, what kind of place is this?"
Ron was standing by the host's desk, negotiating their table, but he turned mid-conversation to look at Kim. "It's Lebanese food," he said. "Middle eastern cusine." He turned back to the host and began pointing at the reservation book between them as he talked.
Kim looked around some more at the food people were eating. Much of it wasn't too visually impressive, mostly dips and chopped vegitables and flat breads. A few people were eating what looked like shish-ka-bobs while still others were nibbling on salads. While the presentation left something to be desired, the smell was incredible. Kim took a deep breath and caught notice of lots of garlic, mint, and citrus, which she imagined to be lemon juice given the slices of the fruit she saw on a few people's plates. Simple smells, but strong ones that she liked very much.
"Okay, KP," said Ron, waving her over. The host, a thin man with dark features, was smiling at the two of them and graciously led them to one of the few unoccupied tables. Ron held out Kim's chair for her and then sat down himself.
"Lebanese food, I didn't expect that," said Kim as she continued to look around.
Ron was talking to the host in a hushed manner and motioned a couple times toward Kim and then towards the door before the man nodded, smiled, and walked off. Ron turned back towards his date. "We were in Damascus that one time looking for the president's lost ceremonial sword and he invited us to stay for dinner."
Kim thought back. "Yeah, okay, I remember that."
"You mentioned you liked the yabra and shawarma quite a bit," said Ron. "There aren't any Syrian restaurants around but Lebanese is close to their cuisine. I thought you might like having it again." He smiled earnestly.
Kim's mouth hung slightly open in surprise but she quickly covered with a kind smile. She hadn't imagined he'd be so thoughtful when she demanded a date earlier and was starting to realize he'd put genuine effort into arranging something she'd enjoy. She felt a little guilty now. She hadn't really expected this, and wondered if she shouldn't have gone after the goats by the train. Ron clearly had a schedule by the way he was looking at his watch periodically.
"Thanks... Ron," Kim finally said after the firestorm in her mind quieted.
"We don't have a lot of time, but I asked them to bring a selection of mezze and some chicken shawarama."
Kim's smile became a grin. "What are we at risk at being late for?"
"You didn't want to know," said Ron, slyly. "You'll see."
Kim laughed. The host returned then with a pot of tea flavored with rose-water and poured both of them a cup. Kim picked up her cup and held it up. "Cheers!" she said. Ron reciprocated and they both took a sip. "Aaah," Kim said, surprised. "It's sweet." She made a face. Ron laughed.
"So what's Mezze?" asked Kim as they drank.
"Like appetizers," explained Ron. "Though they consider it a meal since they bring them out in batches of five. It's mostly olives, yoghurt, fresh vegetables, and egg based dishes."
"You know a lot about this," pointed out Kim.
"I ... uh, well, I mean, I try to learn a little bit about the cusines of all the places we go," said Ron, slightly flush.
"Really? This is the first I've heard of it," said Kim.
"It's kinda like... you know, a hobby." Ron played with his napkin. "It's something I do at home when we get back. My parents seem to like it. Well, except after we went to Zimbabwe."
Kim laughed again. "Are you thinking about becoming a chef?"
"Well, not really," said Ron. "Not right now anyway given... you know."
"Yeah," nodded Kim.
"But maybe someday," said Ron. "I think it's fun."
"Well you can always cook for me," smiled Kim.
The food arrived then, a variety of dishes with a basket of soft unleavened bread to accompany them. Kim and Ron ate with enthusiasm, having worked up a considerable appetite during the goat herding and traveling. Overall, Kim considered it to be a delicious meal.
Ron checked his watch as they waited for the bill to come. "Well, it's going to be close but—"
A muffled scream sounded from outside the restaurant causing all the patrons to turn their heads. Kim raised her brow, curious as to what was going on while Ron slowly began to frown.
A moment later the door to the restaurant slammed open and four men rushed in dressed head to toe in black and half of them waving pistols around as they ran. Many of the restaurant guests screamed when they realized the strange men were armed while others stood and tried to get away from them as they ran through the restaurant.
Before the first of the men in black reached the door to the kitchen in the back, the front door of the restaurant slammed open again and several London police officers crashed in. They looked around quickly, then spotted the retreating armed men and chased after them.
"Die, scumbags!" yelled the armed man in the back of the gang. He raised his gun and fired off several shots into the crowd before ducking into the kitchen. Three of the cops quickly ran after their marks while one stayed behind and started checking on the people in the restaurant.
Kim watched the police file through the back door, her eyes narrowing. Then she heard the moan. Turning back she saw the remaining cop run to a woman lying on the ground near the front window of the restaurant. She was lying in a pool of blood and softly moaning.
"Ma'am?" said the policeman. "Ma'am! Can you hear me?" The woman's head rolled around, not focusing on anything. The policeman grabbed his radio and began calling for help.
Kim grit her teeth and made a fist with her hand, standing defiantly.
"Kim..." started Ron, wearily.
"Come on," Kim replied curtly, and started walking towards the kitchen. Ron quickly ran to keep up with her.
"We don't have enough—"
"We're not letting these guys go, they just shot a woman," said Kim as she kicked open the door and ran through. Ron sighed and followed diligently.
---
Ron and Kim walked quickly up to the box office for the Criterion Theatre. Ron was in the lead with Kim following after him, but he was the one who was dragging his feet. He knew there was little point in really running, they were an hour and twenty minutes late.
As they reached the door, Ron noticed a sign hanging up reading "No Admission After Show Starts." He sighed and hung his head.
Kim put her hand on Ron's shoulder gently. "Sorry, Ron. I know your schedule got messed up because of me."
Ron nodded solemnly and considered his options.
"Was there anything on the schedule after the theatre?" asked Kim, hopefully.
"Yeah," said Ron. He motioned back towards Piccadilly Circus. "Come on."
Ron walked with his hands in his pockets while Kim moved beside him, her arms gently held behind her. She tried to think of something to say several times but gave up on each, deciding instead to wait in silence and see what was the next step on the date Ron tried so hard to create.
Five minutes later they were standing before the Shaftesbury Memorial, a tall bronze fountain with the statue of a cherub on top. A few other people were sitting by the fountain, several were couples watching the neon spectacle in the square while others were probably waiting for people to meet them.
Kim and Ron walked up to the fountain and watched the water cascade down the bronzed surface. Ron pulled a coin out of his pocket and tossed it into the small pool. "There would have been fewer people here later at night, but..." he trailed off.
"It's nice," said Kim, genuinely pleased. She really couldn't be happier right now. Yeah, she got dirty earlier in the day, and they ended up having an abridged dinner, and, sure, they were interrupted at the end by a bunch of Serbian drug runners running through their restaurant leading to a cross city chase that left them over an hour late to the play they planned to see, but... well... It was fun. It was the sort of fun she felt was strangely lacking in her life in the last few months and she was delighted to discover it again.
Kim looked up at the top of the fountain, at the small winged cherub with a bow. She smiled when she implications that could be drawn by Ron taking her to see this specific statue. "Is that cupid up there?" she said, a little salaciously.
"Actually, it's Anteros," explained Ron. "Eros or Cupid was the god of love and lust." He blushed slightly. "But Anteros was his brother, and was the god of great and returned love." He looked slowly over to Kim. His expression was uneasy or unsure even with the blush still on his cheeks.
Kim reached out and took his hand and held it kindly. She opened her mouth to thank him for the fantastic date, even it didn't go as he had hoped, but changed her mind before she even got a word out. He wasn't looking for thanks, and she knew that. He wasn't looking for anything for himself, actually. He wanted her to be happy, and for once, she needed him to know that he had done well.
Quietly, Kim moved close to Ron and leaned her head against him. Gently, they moved slightly side to side as if dancing to an unheard tune. Ron held her softly in his arms.
"I'm sorry," Ron said.
"You have nothing to be sorry about," said Kim. "This was a perfect date."
"No," said Ron. "That's not what I mean." Kim parted slightly from Ron to look up at his face. "I knew we hadn't been dating or doing much of anything we used to, but I let myself get caught up in building things."
Kim shook her head slightly. "It's not your fault," she said. She put her head against him again. "I knew it too, but I... I thought I didn't want that stuff anymore. I wanted something very different than our normal lives but, I couldn't figure out what that meant."
"And now?" asked Ron. "Have you figured it out?"
"I think so," said Kim. "It's so strange. I used to want to be so... 'good', in every way I could, I suppose. And then, just suddenly, I strongly wanted to be as very bad as I could manage. But both of those were wrong, I realize now. They were extremes, and the truth laid in the middle."
"Some good and some bad?" asked Ron.
"Well, good, but not as limited," said Kim. She bit her lip. "There are people out there who just... want to do bad things. Like today, those drug thugs who just fired their gun wildly into a restaurant of innocent people. That's absolute terrible and I hate it. People shouldn't have to be afraid something like that might happen to them."
"But," continued Kim. "We can go after every criminal who commits a crime, and we'll do little to prevent that, since we're always showing up after the fact. No, if we are really going to keep people safe, we have to do better. We have to be proactive, stopping crimes before they start, so that no innocent people get caught in the crossfire."
"So, something like GJ?" asked Ron. "Monitoring all the threats out there so we can act when they close to a plan."
Kim shook her head. "No, I mean removing the threats entirely. I mean having enough control on the world so that nobody even has the opportunity to commit a crime."
"Controlling the whole world?" asked Ron. "Isn't that more of Drakken's territory?"
"He had the right idea, but for the wrong reasons," said Kim. "He wanted to dominate the world to use it as his personal playground. I want to put the whole world under our supervision so that people can finally be safe."
Ron whistled at the prospect. "We're going to need some help," he concluded. "It'll be hard to do it with just the three of us."
"So we'll have to recruit," said Kim. "We've got a big enough castle."
"That means people we trust," reminded Ron. "How many of those are we going to find that won't stab us in the back to try to be the boss or turn on us when they realize we hope to control the world?"
"We'll find the people," said Kim. "If not, I'm sure we could make some."
"Make some?" asked Ron.
"If Dementor went from mad scientist to English teacher overnight thanks to the attitudinator gun, then it should be easy to use it to make a loyal henchman. We just need to find it."
"I guess we'll have a visit to Jack Hench in the near future, then," said Ron. He held Kim tightly against him, glad to have his girlfriend happy again. He thought of something troubling and became uneasy again.
"What is it?" asked Kim, feeling her boyfriend stiffen.
"Um, if we're going to be building our own world dominating team, what does that mean for the bank job?" he asked, sounding slightly disappointed.
"Well, you're the chef," Kim smiled. "Surely you know that to make an omelet..."
Ron smiled again. "Booya!"
---
It was late into the night and almost the morning when Kim and Ron finally returned to the Fiske castle. They stumbled through the front door, smiles still on their faces, and began heading for the stairs up to their rooms. They got only two steps up when Monty appeared from around the corner and looked up at them.
"Stoppable!" Monty called out, and Ron was forced to stop and turn. Kim helped him stand while he looked back at the servant.
"What is it?" asked Ron, annoyed.
"I figured it out!" said Monty.
"Figured what out?"
"The device in the box," said Monty. "It's got a spinning weapon and a magnetron, I'm thinking it a form of water boiling gun. I can show you how I think it works but it needs some extra parts that were probably misplaced."
Ron looked at Monty as if he were speaking Swahili for a moment. Then blinked and nodded with realization. "Oh, right, the box," he said.
"You said that if I could figure it out..." started Monty.
"Yeah, yeah, that was a box of parts from a blender with a disassembled microwave tossed in for variety."
"..." said Monty.
"It's not really a weapon, I just needed you to stay busy while we were both out of town or you'd probably do something you shouldn't have," said Ron. He turned with Kim and they both returned to climbing the stairs. He called over his shoulder when they reached the top. "Good job though, very imaginative."
"Come on," Kim giggled from upstairs, out of Monty's sight.
"All right, all ri—wait, this isn't my room," Ron's voice filtered down.
"SHhhh! Just get in here."
"Woah!"
Next Monty heard the slamming of a door. Well, he would have heard it if he hadn't been stewing in fury and causing his palms to bleed from his fingernails in his shaking fists.
"I'll get my revenge on you, Stoppable," Monty growled. The collar shocked him for saying such a thing, but the half-simian ignored it. "Just you wait."
---
Author's Note: ...
