1

Ron felt a gentle hand rubbing one of his large ears. He felt as if he was floating on the softest bed imaginable. And most comforting, he could smell KP in the soft hair that barely brushed the sides of his face.

Ron opened his 'eyes' and saw the Possible female dressed in classic flapper girl style. "Mim?", he asked.

"You know of me?", she asked in a voice lighter than KP's.

"Yeah, KP and me shared a dream where we cleared your name a while back. After we woke up, we actually did.", the boy replied.

Mim smiled and caressed his 'face'. "Thank you, sincerely, Ronald."

"uh"

"Oh, I am terribly sorry.", she apologized. "It is just that you have the most uncanny resemblance to Jonathan."

"I understand, spitting image and all.", Ron stated. "You and KP could be god-cousins yourselves."

Ron tried to sit up. Instead, he floated to a more upright position and Mim matched him. While he could not make anything out around him, he saw a bright light ahead of him. Its pull on him was tremendous: he was curious, heartwarmed and fulfilled all at once.

"It's like the tunnel of light in a near death experience.", he commented.

Mim grinned sheepishly. "It not near, Ronald."

"Say what?", he blurted out.

"'What'?", the woman quoted.

Ron shook his head. "No, I mean what's this about not being near? I can't be..."

"You have indeed met your demise.", Mim informed.

"But then where are all my ancestors that are supposed to greet you when you 'see the light'?", Ron objected.

"Jonathan is in heaven.", she replied. "As for your other ancestors, I was nearly here by the time they told me that this is their way of telling me to stand in for them."

Now Ronald was truly puzzled. "But if Jon is in heaven, then why aren't you? You were innocent."

"But I did take flight.", Mim lamented. "You may be surprised what is possible for a Possible."

"You will not have to worry about such, Ronald Jeremiah Possible.", another beautiful red head informed.

Angela was obviously not a creature that had eaten from the tree of life and hence knew shame. Her armor, or lack thereof seemed to cover more for the convenience of those around her. Pastel ribbons floated around her as if the slight fluttering of her wings held them aloft. The glow of her halo set the lines of softest cloth shimmering along with what could easily be a fetish swimsuit of blessed metal.

"I am pleased to tell you that your unrepented sins, all three of them, do not prohibit you from joining us.", she not quite sung, not quite calculated. "Your child-like innocence, simple joys, caring nature and compassionate devotion have already given you place amongst us. It is time we received a soul of such a high caliber warrior."

Ron shook his 'head' again. "Three?"

"How honest were you with Zita, Ronald?", Mim asked.

Ron nodded slowly. "Okay, okay. So maybe I steered her toward another guy rather than deal with a girl crying. But not everyone's Yori! Besides, it worked out for the best right? Felix and her are happy."

"And that because you do not repent the sin in your heart, there exists a mark on your soul.", Angela told him. "It would be wise not to remind us, even though we have opened our hallowed gates."

"Yeah, shiny gates. Sign here.", the clown told him while handing him a clipboard.

"uh-huh.", Ron acknowledged taking the quill and parchment. He placed the paper against the clown's back and just as he was about to write, he thought of something.

"Wait a minute. Who are you two, anyway?"

Angela glared at the clown so intently, Ron was unsure she had even noticed his question. "I am Angela, a servant of the heavenly host."

"I'm the loyal opposition.", the clown informed casually. "Go ahead and sign already."

Ron looked at the parchment he 'held'. "This is just a blank piece of paper."

The clown nodded. "Yeah, standard contract. We fill in all that later. Just sign."

"Ronald.", Mim warned. "Ronald can you come to me and not sign?"

"Suuure.", Ronald hesitantly agreed. He noted that both women stared at the short, fat clown with varying levels of wariness and distaste.

"The Ron-man may not be the sharpest eraser in the box.", the boy began. "But are you a demon?"

"Hey, that's our word, you got no right using it.", the clown replied. "We prefer Bedeviled-American. But you can call us whatever you like when you sign, my demon."

"The enemy only offers eternal torment, Ronald Jeremiah Stoppable. You have already a place in a paradise of eternal peace. Do not rashly throw that away.", Angela warned.

Ron dropped the quill and parchment as if they had caught fire...which considering where they seemed to be from, they might have before. "You're trying to get me to sign away my soul? To Hell? Dude! That is so sick and wrong: wrong-sick even!"

"Hey, I had to pull a few strings to get this deal in order, kid.", the clown objected as if Ron should be grateful for the blank contract. "It's not like you have a laundry list of...let's say, qualifications that our recruiters look for in a new applicant. But those two heavies on your soul sure got our attention."

"The other sins?", Ron dared to ask.

"Oh yeah.", the clown continued. "I mean, who else but you could go from sure thing singing with the angels to The World's Greatest Murderer overnight?"

"I never...oh.", the boy realized. "You're talking about Warmonga and Warhok. But they were trying to hurt Kim!"

"See that's what I love about you, kid!", the clown agreed. "Not saving the world, not self-defense. They were gonna give your main squeeze the squeeze so you just hit 'em with everything you had and damn the consequences. The best killers the world's militaries have had to offer met loads of aliens over the years and each decided to protect the planet by working to communicate and keep them secret. For the first time, another life form in all of clean and clear creation shows humanity publicly that its not alone and whammo! You smash them into their own spaceship...because they touched your woman.

"Sign here!"

"Do not Ron.", Mim pleaded. "It is only folly."

"Why would you even think I would do something that stupid, dude?", Ron asked.

"Hey, it's not stupid with the deal I can give ya.", the clown insisted.

"Deal not with the interloper!", Angela warned.

"Okay, okay.", the clown conceded. "Everyone wants little Ronnie-poo to be eternally content. I know I do. So how do you suppose you're going to make that happen, Reds?"

"Angela has offered him the same honor given to Jonathan.", Mim replied. "His soul will rest in heaven."

The clown nodded half seriously. "Sure, sure. The kid'll get his own public spot in a godless heaven (bet they haven't told you that yet) next to Pious McGoodygoody and his dusty aunt Saint Nofun. But we all know that the only thing that has ever driven this kid, deep down in his heart is helping people and wanting to be next to one Kimberly Ann Possible."

He reached into his too tight denim coat and pulled out a magazine. The clown flopped out the centerfold pages and whistled. "That would sure motivate me."

Tossing the magazine over his shoulder and into the ether, he addressed the women. "So, I just gotta know. I mean, so I can tell the guys when I get back. Just exactly which one of you is going to make sure he gets to be with Kim Possible ever again?"

Ron's eyebrows furled. He turned to Mim who only frowned in concern and boy turned to Angela and was only met with her full glory, splendid in her impassivity.

"But she's KP.", Ron insisted. "The only thing she does is help people all over the world. She has to get in."

The clown laughed. "Take off the rose colored glasses for a second. Isn't your girl determined, driven and unrelenting about caring for those she loves? What about intensely possessive? To the point that she will flip out in full fledge binges of jealousy over nothing at all? What do you think she's going to do when she can't make sense of your death, Mr. Boyfriend?

We don't know what killed you. You don't even know what killed you. When the girl who can do anything is handed nothing but a mystery and heartbreak, what do you think is going to happen? Do you think she's going to accept Dr. Director's posthumous medal and keep it on the nightstand to remind herself that you never took her cherry? Or is she going to start looking for answers?

"Let me paint a picture for you. Wade Load, Elishiba Director and Herbert Brotherson don't know what killed you anymore than we do. One's a friend, one's a trusted ally and mentor and the other is a known criminal that informs other known criminals to help them commit crimes including kidnapping her father. You remember how she chased around the world after Saito Yokomoto, er, Yori when you were on a mission with her? Of course you do. What do you think Kim's going to do to the fat man if she thinks she can get her revenge after she forces him to tell something that he doesn't know.

"And that's just for simple revenge. You two have seen some pretty crazy things in your lives. You know what'll happen if she thinks she can actually get you back. Sixteen forms of kung-fu, knowledge of some of the most advanced technology on the planet and you won't be there by her side to bring her back this time."

Ron understood exactly what the clown was threatening. "You're saying she'll do something that'll give her to you."

"Will?", the clown scoffed. "Crash Cranstin is probably already sporting a black eye for not being able to resuscitate you. And he's perfectly innocent: doing the best he can to help his fellow man and getting a face full of teen hottie fist for the effort. How long before it adds up to a one ticket back home?"

"Its lying to you.", Angela told Ron.

"It's lying to you.", the clown mocked. "That sexy slave wants you to believe that you never watched Kim seethe and grind her teeth in anger at something as small as Bonnie saying something to her about high school popularity. Wants you to believe that Kim hasn't proven that she can kick in the ribs of twenty men for as something as little as someone asked her. Wants you to believe that she doesn't honestly believe that she can do anything which leads her into trusting her own judgement with no checks or balances. Wants you to believe that Kim Possible doesn't love you enough to inflict herself on the entire world.

"Who's lying, kid? I'm telling it like it is because it's a forgone conclusion. You'll sign a blank contract just to see her again. But I'll sweeten the deal. I will guarantee that you will touch her again as our end of the deal. And that's just the fine print."

"Think of the intangibles. When you're with us and she comes to hell, you'll be there to have her back. You come with us and get to touch her again, you just might keep her from sinking into an inconsolable rage that turns friends into slaves and strangers into targets. We don't care! You want to get Kim into heaven, try your best."

The clown held out the parchment and quill. Written in a language Ron had not seen before but intrinsically knew as well as giant cockroach or naked mole rat was the sentence 'Ronald Jeremiah Stoppable will see and touch Kimberly Anne Possible once more.'. "Just sign here."

Ron turned to Mim.

The woman saw the look in his eyes. Mim rushed to take him in her 'arms' and quietly sobbed. "Do not do this thing, Ronald. I beseech you. I beg you. Come with me if you will not go with the angels. But please, do not do this. It is more than just you and her."

Ron posed the problem to her. "Were you offered this deal to see Jon again?"

Mim buried her 'face' in his 'shoulder'. She whispered her answer. "Jonathan was before me. He was confident we would meet again in heaven. However, he was not offered this...pact."

"If you were given the chance to see Jon again, would you take it?", Ron asked Kim's ancestor.

Mim just sobbed. "Do not ask me this, Ronald."

"Then you see that I have to take it.", the boy told her.

Mim softly kissed his lips. At first it was simple and pleasant. In short order, Ron learned that Kim's Five Alarm Kisses were more than likely genetic. When she stopped, she advised him, "It will save you, Ronald."

Mim drew herself away and flittered toward the light at the end of the tunnel. "You do truly strike of him.", she mourned as she faded from the boy's sight.

Ron turned to Angela. She cut him off before he could speak. "You have full opportunity to repent this silliness right now. If you sign, I will next see what remains of you on the battlefield."

Ron sighed. "I have to save her."

He turned to the clown and was met with a smile desperately trying to be sincere for once in its existence. Ron felt as if he was being drained of more than just his blood as bright red spelled his name in his own writing on the parchment.

2

Ron had no more of the comfort of the passage from his life. The gravity of his decision literally forced him to his hands and knees on a rock that cooked his skin into a putrid stink. It was bleeding hot, burning dark and choking heavy.

The Jew who had held that there was no true 'hell' throughout his life now knew of gnashing of teeth.

He called out with all his might. "What about KP!"

The clown walked up to the burning, sweating, sezuiring boy. "But don't you wanna look your best for your hot date?", he asked.

"We're gonna give you a make over you're never gonna get over. HAHAHAHA!

"First we gotta make sure our soul (because it's not really yours, is it) gets its fair share of tenderizing, right? And believe me, we have every mallet you could want. The Pit. The Lake of Fire. The Darkness. So many options, so little eternity. Well, let's just do them all, shall we?"

Ron shook even more. Lines of green blaze raced away from him before parts were torn out of his form. Describing the torturous process of rending a soul accurately should break the heart of any human trying to communicate it. The tortures of legend affecting a human form shatters reason.

As the Ron vaporized away to infinite horrors in a blaze of green mist an oily slick pooled around him. Hateful chains grabbed the twitching blazing form and choked in place. The oil slick came under him and gave him tentative licks. Finding the sacrifice pleasing, it splashed onto Ron. Each stain upon the boy postuled and popped another splash further covering his form. And as that form wafted away in haze of torment, the slick refilled the space with an ectoplasmic goop that solidified into a reconstruction of his body. After way too long, the black encased body collapsed on the rock.

"See, now you're all pretty upped for your big date.", the clown assured. "Black never goes out of fashion."

The tortured creature bemoaned, "KP!"

"Round two!", the clown announced.

The chains that had been infused into the infernal construct raised the black sheathed form away from the rock. A river of red cloth oozed over the cliff where the rock ended. It snaked its way up to the twitching monster jailed in its own deal. When the infamous scarlet shroud reached its latest soldier it froze. The cape shook itself in confusion. The weapon turned to the clown.

"Yeah, he's actually a nice guy.", the clown told it. "Ain't that just a kick in the pants?"

The scarlet shroud did its best to frown. But then it straightened as an idea seemed to occur to it. The red of blood and anger and fire washed out of the cape. A royal blue was revealed in the wave. The now sapphire shroud approached what was left of Ron again. Satisfied, it enveloped the suspended body. At first the cape sunk into the form as if a perfect body lotion. Then, in a mighty swoosh, it unfurled from its rightful place.

"K...P...?", the hanging body still pleaded.

"Man, that's going to get on my nerves.", the clown complained. "But fortunately for me, we own your soul. Your memories are ours as much as you dreams and fate. So give 'em!"

The creature before him struggled to control its chains with nothing more than panicked instinct. "But without my memories, how will I remember that I loved her?", it objected.

"Let me check the fine print.", the clown paused. The obese entity unfurled a scroll that hit the ground, rolled along the burning rock and continued over the edge as it burned without being consumed. Then he proceeded to pull out a pair or pretentious reading glasses.

"Says right here that that is not our problem what-so-ever. All we have to do is make sure you see and touch her again. Nothing about caring that you remember that's what you sold your soul for."

The entity roared and grabbed its head. After a final set of convulsions, only hell's spawn remained.

"Beam him up, Scotty.", the clown commanded. The hell's spawn was flung directly upward from the rock the clown stood on and faded from view.

Only then did the unintelligible horror of a voice corrupt the very space it was spoken in.

The clown tried to back away but met the edge of the rock. He spoke hastily, "Okay, okay, boss. I know what you're thinking."

Another hateful sound.

"Not that I would ever presume to guess what your thoughts are, boss.", the clown added. "But look at all that is coming to us. We have the perfect set-up. Our new chosen soldier is gonna kill the most charitable person on the planet. And it just so happens to be the one true love that got him to sell his soul."

The chaotic torment that surrounded the clown shuddered with the force of the response.

The clown frowned then changed tactics. "That's a very fine point, boss. So check this out. Let's say I am the complete failure that makes me where this ugly fat clown suit all over the place. Just the sake of argument mind you, what happens when the girl really can do anything? They find out that they're in love, they re-fall for each other or any number of things that could keep him from killing her. So?

"First off: sending him back for years to let him stew in not being the bitch's boy toy wasn't just so it would piss him off. I mean, I've been coaching him these past three years and he's mighty ticked off. But he's no where near as powerful as any hell's spawn before him because we used so much of it to send him back in time. Enough to kill Kimber, sure! But strong enough to present us with a problem if he turned on us? Well, he's hell's spawn but not at their usual start up strength.

"Second: we got the prophecy! Any situation in which he doesn't kill her leads straight into a good end game for us, anyway. Now I nearly want to fail at the assassination. Win or lose we still win.

"But the best, the very very grubbiest of the grub worms, the rankest of the foul is that we've already won. We already have what we wanted. So screw it. I mess up and nothing happens that I'm trying to make happen. Who cares?

"Heaven's defeat is inevitable. There's nothing that they can do, we got 'em right where we want 'em. I can nearly hear their halos wobbling as the quiver in fear. We won, they lost. Game over, man, game over!"