UNDERCOVER
A Kim Possible fan fiction
By Michael Howard
(Author's Note: This story takes place during the Memorial Day weekend of Kim and Ron's Junior Year in High School and is rated T for adult themes, language, and violence.)
21. Bitter Pill
Monday Morning:
Don't blow up here, Kim Possible warned herself. Don't give in to the anger. It won't change anything and it certainly won't make Whateley go away.
She looked toward Roderick Spode again. He stood with arms crossed, the sleeves of his jumpsuit rolled up to better display his corded muscles. Probably specially tailored to let him do that. His intent gaze was upon her, no doubt hoping for some indication of fear on her part. Giving that up as a wasted effort, his eyes traveled down to her bare feet and then he gave what she took to be a mocking half smile. Restraint instantly forgotten, the redhead started toward him propelled by a new flaring of rage.
Kim moved quickly but her best friend still managed to grab hold of the back of her crop top before she could step past him. The teen had to stop in place as soon as he did so or else her collar would be pulled aside and the heavy bruises on her shoulder exposed.
"So, lemme see if I got this right, here," said Ron Stoppable, as he patted her back in an inconspicuous manner. "We capture Whateley and stop his fifty year long crime wave, which none of you professionals ever figured out how to do. And then we hand him over to be held for his trial, but instead you let him get away and take some sorta blow-up-the-world gadget with him.
"Am I forgetting anything here?"
"Unfortunately, your summary is painfully accurate," replied the Secretary General of the United Nations. "The only correction I could make is that this, uh, Mr. Whateley hasn't actually escaped in a literal sense. He remains here in, or at least below, the headquarters complex of Global Justice."
"But?" prompted Ron.
"Well, as long as he has control of the device, moving against him is... problematic."
The UN leader looked at Spode, who in turn glanced over to a chunky middle aged woman wearing a white lab coat over her GJ uniform. "Dr. Bergen," he said in a tone that clearly commanded rather than requested she speak.
Her eyes darted about the room nervously before clearing her throat and saying in a faint Scandinavian accent, "Actually, Mr. Secretary, there isn't just one device. Forty-seven were recovered in the raids against WEE."
Kim made a sour face. "And Whateley has them all now?"
"Y-yes," conceded the woman.
"All right, what do they do?"
"The machines emit a series of hypersonic pulses that affect the atomic structure of certain elements."
"And not for the better, I take it?"
"No. All metals are weakened to a certain extent, but iron and steel most of all. They are reduced to the tensile strength of... Well, nothing. Metal exposed to this process takes on the consistency of pudding."
"Which means most New York skyscrapers would come tumbling down," said Kim.
"Yes. Some immediately, others with the first strong wind."
"What's the range of one of these machines?"
"About ten miles." The scientist tapped a pen anxiously against her thigh. "Enough to cover a good part of New York City, as well as some highly populated sections of New Jersey."
Kim asked, "What about a mass evacuation?"
No one answered verbally, but several people exchanged furtive looks.
"No. Don't do it. Do nottell me that the evac was vetoed because today's a holiday and the City needs the tourist revenue."
Dr. Bergen said, "It's not as simple as that, Miss Possible. It's true that there are a number of parades scheduled throughout the City, and that makes the logistics of evacuation even more difficult than would ordinarily be the case."
"Go on," said Kim.
"But the greater sticking point here is where do we move the people to."
"Beyond the ten mile range of the machines!"
"Ten miles is the range of one device. One out of forty-seven."
The teen dropped her voice to a whisper. "You-you mean the effects are cumulative?"
"Yes," answered the woman. "Although we don't have enough data yet to determine the exact ratio of enhancement when the machines work in conjunction.
"Gemini certainly never intended them to be used together. I mean, he wants to rule the world, not destroy it. WEE had them spread out with one or two in each of the world's largest population centers.
"Which would certainly have resulted in the deaths of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of people. But God help us, that's still better than the situation we are currently facing."
Kim and Ron exchanged looks again. The former asked, "Okay then, what exactly happens if he decides to use all of the machines at the same time?"
Dr. Bergen took a deep breath. "Computer analysis shows that the Earth's structural integrity would be compromised."
"But how?" asked Kim.
"Well, the crust, the outer layer of the Earth, only averages about 18 miles thick. Below that is the mantle, which makes up more than four-fifths of the volume of the planet."
"All right."
"And the mantle is almost ten percent iron. So within a matter of minutes after the machines are activated, our planet's surface would begin to collapse inwardly, and that in turn would result in a volcanic eruption greater than any in recorded history. The data is rather inconclusive about whether or not the Earth would actually be knocked out of orbit by the eruption, but either way, it would undeniably mean the end of all life on this planet."
It was Kim who finally broke the silence that came over the room. "You said Whateley is still here in the headquarters complex."
The Scandinavian woman thrust her hands into the pockets of her lab-coat. "In a sense, yes. You're aware, of course, that GJ HQ is located immediately below the United Nations Building. But it is a closely guarded secret that further underground, carved out of solid rock, is a specialized laboratory known as-"
"The Analysis Section," finished Kim. "The place where they bring so called super weapons to be dismantled."
Spode glared at her. "You're not supposed to know about that."
"Add that to the list of things that shouldn't have happened this weekend," the teen snapped back. Her gaze swept the room again. "Speaking of which, why isn't the Director here now instead of you?"
"She has a very good reason for not being present," rumbled Spode. "She's dead."
This prompted another Global Justice scientist to speak for the first time. "We don't know that for certain! She's just missing."
Spode shrugged. "If you prefer to hold on to that belief."
Dr. Bergen gave her colleague what was unmistakably a warning look, then turned back to Kim. In low tones she said, "The Director headed down there when the trouble started but hasn't been heard from since."
Kim turned toward Ron. The teen didn't speak but something in her expression prompted him to move nearer and began to covertly stroke the back of her hair.
"Okay," he said. "Can somebody tell me why you'd ever put Whateley in the same place as those metal pudding thingies anyway?"
"They weren't that close to begin with," corrected Spode. "Originally they were on different levels of this complex, hundreds of yards apart."
"Then how did Whateley get from one place to another?"
"With inside help," announced the Deputy Director. "As is clearly shown by our internal surveillance cameras."
"Mind control," murmured Kim.
"But his ring is busted," protested Ron.
"Think back," said his best friend. "He didn't use that ring with me and I still, well... " She eyed the others guiltily for a moment. "I had uh, a little trouble. But you didn't, Ron. So then he brought the ring into play. I think mind control is a natural ability for him. The ring is a tool to make it easier or stronger."
After a thoughtful pause she looked up again and asked of the room at large, "What are our options for getting at him?"
"Extremely limited," said Dr. Bergen. "The Analysis Section is heavily fortified. It was intended as a place to study, neutralize, and develop counter measures for dangerous technological devices captured from criminal or terrorist organizations. The area has its own air, water, food, and power supply. The only way in or out is through a single access tunnel, and the controls to open that tunnel are on the opposite side from us."
"Why would they ever locate an incredibly dangerous place like that right underneath New York City?"
"Well, Miss Possible, that was done for the same reason that Global Justice put a research facility underneath your own Middleton. So it would be close to the pool of scientists they hoped to recruit." She gave Spode a quick, sidelong glance. "GJ doesn't have the most competitive salary rates so they need to seek advantages in other areas... "
The woman let her breath out noisily before adding, "Obviously the original designers of the Analysis Section never dreamed of a scenario where Global Justice would have to break into the facility, and that they would be opposed by other GJ personnel with full and complete knowledge of how to keep them out."
Ron considered this a moment, then asked, "So when he first escaped, Whateley knocked out your phone system?"
Spode blinked. "He did nothing like that. Policy calls for a total communication shutdown with the outside world whenever there is a security breach in the Headquarters complex."
The teen glowered at him. "And the people in the field doing GJ business? They just get to fend for themselves?"
Spode glanced quickly at the Secretary General. "Yes. Regulations are quite clear about that. There was certainly no time to conduct a case by case review of every field operation underway at that moment."
"And 'Regulations' also demanded that Ron and I be shot and caged like wild animals?" demanded Kim.
"I was carrying out my instructions to bring both of you-"
"No, Spode. The approved phrase in these situations is 'I was just following orders.' Yeah, ask Ron's grandmother about why that isn't-"
"Kim!"
The redhead was instantly silenced by the harshness in her best friend's voice. In a lower, more sullen tone she continued, "There must be some other way to get at this Analysis Section. Maybe the exhaust pipes for the generators down there?"
The Scandinavian woman shook her head. "The Section is powered by a pair of micro-fission generators."
"What about bypassing the tunnel and digging a new pathway down there?"
"Actually, we have requisitioned a pair of excavation machines from the Abner Perry Corporation. But still, the outer walls of the Section were designed to contain threats as diverse as a poison gas leak, a virulent bio-weapon, even a low yield nuclear explosion. And what keeps those threats in, also works to keep us out."
Kim asked, "How about that device we got from Dementor a while back? The teleportation module."
The woman took on an apologetic expression. "We switched to fiber optics as a way to prevent that type of intrusion threat."
Yeah, and now when we desperately need some kind of slip up, suddenly GJ is super efficient.
Aloud Kim asked, "Have you spoken with DNAmy about Whateley? She'll know his weaknesses better than anyone."
"It was against my better judgement," said Spode. "But I have authorized her to have supervised access to a bio lab. However, even if she were to come up with something, there's no way to get it anywhere near Whateley."
"Why not?" demanded Ron. "He's spoiling for a rematch, so we'll just take it down with us."
Spode opened his mouth, eyed the teenager disdainfully, then jabbed a finger at Dr. Bergen.
She said, "The most sophisticated detection equipment on the planet is there at the entrance to the Analysis Section. Nothing known to the scientific community today could be brought in without them knowing it."
Ron looked from face to face before finally settling on the Secretary General. "So what does happen next? You just turn Kim over to Whateley and hope that makes him all peaceful?"
"No one is going to 'turn Kim over,' Mr. Stoppable."
"Got that right," muttered Ron.
The older man continued, "You both are free to leave at any time." The two best friends gave each other skeptical looks. "But, ah, if you choose to remain, despite your earlier mistreatment, then we would be extremely grateful."
"Of course we're staying," said Kim, after getting an almost imperceptible nod from Ron. "And we'll do whatever is needed to stop Whateley."
"Thank you very much, Miss Possible. And you too, Mr. Stoppable." The man adjusted the way his glasses rested on his nose. "I wish we could be content with you two acting solely in an advisory capacity, but the situation is just too dire."
"And so... " began Kim.
"This Whateley person has been told that a Presidential Pardon is being arranged. Actually an... object is being rushed to our location as we speak. I am still unclear as to the exact nature of this device, but have been assured that it will allow us to, as you say, 'stop Whateley.' "
"However?" asked the redhead.
"Unfortunately, there will be a certain element of danger for the two of you."
"Meaning we have to go down to where Whateley is for the thing to work?"
"I'm afraid so."
"When?"
He glanced over to the closest wall clock. "No later than ninety-seven minutes from now."
Kim also considered the time. That would make it 'High Noon' exactly. Looks like Uncle Slim's favorite movie has suddenly taken on a whole new significance for me.
A quarter of an hour later Kim and Ron were alone in the conference room. She zipped up her overnight bag and shrugged. "Looks like everything's here."
"Wow. What a relief that is. They didn't steal or lose our stuff bringing it down from Connecticut. I guess there's no worries for us after all."
She leaned against the edge of the table and started pulling on a pair of socks. "Chill, Ron. And leave the sarcasm for the experts, 'kay?"
"Kim, did you miss the part about Whateley being on the loose again? Or that getting revenge on you is his top priority right now."
"And what does he want revenge for? Me beating him. I did it once and I can, I will, do it again. And this time, you get to watch."
He locked eyes with her. "No big, huh?"
"Ahh... " How can the same boy be so oblivious about some things and so insightful about others? "Well, maybe a medium."
"Yeah. Right. This isn't Frugal Lucre or the Chocolatier we're talking about here. I'm thinking Giddy is as tough as anybody you've ever faced before, maybe more."
She asked quietly, "So you don't think I can take him again?"
"Of course you can," he snapped. "But I, uhh... " He lowered his voice. "I just don't want you to get hurt doing it."
Kim nodded. "Well, there's the secret weapon as our ace in the hole. It's supposed to arrive any minute now."
"Yeah, but I'd feel better if it wasn't Spode's idea to use it."
"Because he hates you and me so much, he'd rather let Whateley destroy the world than give me the right weapon to get the job done?"
"I guess not."
Kim stood up so she could put on her equipment belt. "Okay, then. It's still more than an hour until... Show Time. So how about you head out on a food run? Bring it back here if you find anything. The cafeteria is on Level Four."
"Okay, KP. See you in a few."
As soon as the door closed behind him, Kim let out an anguished moan.
She can't be dead. She just can't be. It's a mistake. The Director is actually a prisoner of Whateley, or she's barricaded herself into some part of the Analysis Section where they can't get at her.
Or she's under his control now just like all of those other scientists... What if I have to go through Betty to get to Whateley? All the mind controlled GJ staff down there? Do I fight innocent people who aren't responsible for their actions, to serve the greater good?
The teen rubbed her eyes for several seconds. Y'know I was knocked unconscious twice last night. I shouldn't be this tired. Or this sore. She inserted a hand inside her top and began to gently massage her shoulder. Maybe I could put my head down on the table for a minute or two...
No. I need to look over the schematics of the Analysis Section they left for me, and the info on the GJ staff down there. Besides, if Ron doesn't get to sleep, why should I?
She considered the stack of books and papers piled on the table corner for a moment, then stood up and walked over to the wall with a large glass rectangle in its center. When she spun a small plastic dial, the glass became transparent and she could look down into a large black-walled chamber illuminated by dozens of computer and television screens.
The Situation Room. The place where Global Justice monitors crisises that have international consequences. Well, I guess this one qualifies.
The floor of the SR was probably thirty feet below her current position, but she was still able to identify several individuals among the crowd.
That's the Mayor of New York there. And I see two, no, three different Senators. The Attorney General is on the big screen to the far right conferring with a knot of NYPD brass.
Her eyes focused on another oversized monitor where an animated recreation of the world blowing up ran on a continuous loop. In front of the screen half a dozen scientists took turns pointing heatedly at the graphic and each other.
All in all, I think I'd even rather watch "Captain Constellation."
Nine minutes later Ron returned with three hamburgers and two cans of soda, all closing in on room temperature.
Kim took a bite and almost gagged. Putting a hand in front of her mouth she choked out, "Honey mustard andmayonnaise! Are you secretly working for Drakken?"
"Oh, you're very welcome, Miss Possible. It was no trouble at all."
"The, uh, cafeteria was closed, wasn't it?"
"Yep."
"And in the interest of plausible deniability I shouldn't ask where you actually did get them?"
He nodded as he chewed. "I'd like to believe they were supposed to be for Spode, but the world just isn't fair like that."
They ate without speaking for a while before Kim remarked, "But any burger is gonna come up short after you've had one of Luke Danes'."
"True."
"So what do you think the GJ team told the Gilmores when they collected our stuff?"
"Don't know. Are you going to try to stay in touch with Rory?"
"Well, I like her but... " I know it would get on my nerves to spend a lot of time with someone so much more well read than I am or could ever hope to be. "I'm not sure we could get past the age difference. She's got like five years on me."
"Right."
Kim set her burger down on the plate as soon as she reached the half-eaten stage. It was pushed across the tabletop. "You want?"
He slid it back toward her. "Not this time. You need to finish that."
She stared at him, closed her mouth, and stared some more.
Man, what's next? He starts holding doors open for me? Chews with his mouth closed? Burns that red jersey he knows I hate?
Come to think of it, I've had him be my errand boy all weekend and he hasn't protested even once. In fact, he actually volunteered to carry my backpack a couple of times. Is he trying to tell me something?
"Which soda?" Kim was asked.
"Orange."
He moved it in front of her. "I could try again to find some ice."
"Don't worry about it." She forced herself to take another bite and tried to ignore the way his eyes kept returning to the wall clock.
There was almost no sound at all when she opened the soda can. Warm and flat. Perfect. Still, anything to get the taste of this burger out of my mouth.
More time passed in silence, or what would have been silence save for the slight scrape of their plates and the faint tink of their soda cans.
Kim realized she was now looking over at the clock just as frequently as he had been doing and she set the aluminum can down angrily. Pushing her plate away, Kim asked, "What do you say, Dad? Am I done?"
Ron considered the remnant of her burger and gave a solemn nod.
She stood up but kept her eyes on his. "Lunch sucked," he was told. "But I did need to eat something. And I do appreciate the effort."
"Okay. Where are you going?"
"Bathroom. Just be a minute."
She tried to be inconspicuous about pulling her toiletries bag out of her carry-on case although he probably still noticed.
The ladies room was only a short distance away, but even in that brief walk two different sets of GJ Agents ran past Kim. The teen entered the lavatory, retrieved her toothbrush and applied a generous amount of toothpaste to its bristles.
After a minute or more of involved effort, she felt that the bad taste in her mouth had been scoured away. Kim rinsed the brush and then stared at it thoughtfully.
The last time I brushed was like fourteen or more hours ago back at the Dragonfly Inn. Ron was next to me and I put our toothbrushes side by side in the rack on the wall. But there was some strange feeling that came over me at the time that I didn't understand. Like I forgot to do something.
The teen gasped audibly. How many times have I groaned at the sappy way Mom and Dad always have to make the handles of their toothbrushes rest against each other when they're not being used? I call it unhygienic but they say it was romantic, something I would understand when I met the one true love of my life.
Except maybe I already have...
'Ron is a friend who happens to be a boy. There's a big difference between that and a boyfriend.'
It seems like a million years ago I said that, but it was just Friday afternoon. So in less than three days time we've gone from never to... forever?
My head is going to explode if I don't talk to him about this! Now! I have to know what he's thinking.
But there's the promise I made to Mom. So get creative. Think of a loophole.
I know she only wanted the 'Don't ask, don't tell' restriction because she thought if we both owned up to our hidden feelings, especially so far from home and away from parental supervision, it would immediately kick off a hot and heavy make out session that we weren't emotionally ready to deal with just yet. But Mom couldn't have foreseen the Whateley sitch. Just knowing I get to meet him again in the near future has got to be the ultimate mood killer.
In fact, if I've got any hope at all of taking him down for a second time, (without any of Wade's gadgets!) it will only be because there is nothing strange going on between Ron and me that could impede our teamwork.
Mom has to realize that... that... Oh, no. Oh, no, she wasn't worried about that possibility, was she? Does she know something I don't? Maybe the real reason Mom didn't want us to have 'the talk' while on a mission was because she was sure Ron just didn't feel that way about me. She knew I'd take it badly and then there'd be this resentment and it would mess up our ability to work together. And if our coordination is off, the bad guy's half way to victory right at the start.
Okay, get a grip here, Kim. Yes, Mom is the smartest woman you've ever met or ever will meet, but even she doesn't know Ron like you do. I am positive he has some kind of feelings for me that go beyond just friendship. He doesn't come out and say it in so many words, but there are clues and hints that show what's really there beneath the surface. And not just from this weekend either.
All right, but if you're the expert on all things Ronnish, how come forty-eight hours ago you would have practically bet your life on the belief that he was a... had never been with a woman before, let alone two of them?
Some minutes passed before Kim left the lavatory and when she returned to the conference room, Spode and a balding, fit looking man who seemed slightly familiar were the only occupants.
"Where's Ron?" she demanded without preamble.
"I asked him to leave," said the Deputy Director. "We need to discuss a few things in private."
Kim yanked open the door. "I decide what he needs to hear, not you." She looked down both sides of the corridor but her best friend was not in view. The teen had drawn in breath so she could call out to him when the other man informed her, "Miss Possible, I have the device with me."
Kim hesitated, then stepped back inside the room and eyed the newcomer.
"This is Daniel Fowler, the Special Agent in Charge of the New York City Office of the FBI," explained Spode.
Kim inclined her head toward him slightly.
"That's my current position, Miss Possible. But three years ago I was with the HRT, the-"
"The Bureau's Hostage Rescue Team," supplied Kim. "I've worked with them before."
"It was my team that was assigned to the Kelstrom Particle Accelerator incident. We were barely a minute from beginning our infiltration to rescue the hostages when the stand down order came through. It seems that a school girl who had been dragged along by her parents on a tour of that facility had somehow managed to defeat the Nihilist leader in hand-to-hand combat, just before her friend introduced your mother's jury-rigged anesthetic gas into the ventilation system." He turned to Spode for a moment. "The incident was hushed up, for obvious reasons, so the public never learned that a pair of fourteen year olds had quite literally saved the world that day."
Kim said quietly, "Not all scientists believed that the cult members would have actually been able to create the black hole effect they were trying for."
"True," conceded Fowler. "But I've seen the confidential report your father submitted afterwards. He believes it would have worked, and in my book that's definitive."
Kim nodded at the compliment, then said, "I remember you now. You gave my family and me a pretty hard time after it was all over. Even accused us of working with the Cultists."
"But only until we could get a look at the surveillance footage to see what really happened." Fowler shook his head slowly, as if still not fully believing what he had witnessed that day. "I'm second generation FBI and I've got twenty three years on the job myself, but I never saw or heard of a more incredible act.
"Well, I've followed your career with interest since then and you've certainly shown that first victory was no fluke."
"Right," said Kim tonelessly. "What about the gadget?"
Fowler reached into his jacket and produced a small clear plastic bag. Inside was a pellet about an inch and half long, glossy black with a lattice of silvery threads.
"What's it do, exactly?"
His brows contracted at her question. "It-it's an explosive."
"Okay. How is it delivered?"
Fowler wheeled on Spode. "You still haven't explained things to her yet?"
"Ah, no. I thought it best to do so when her... classmate wasn't around."
The FBI official turned back to Kim, and the look of distaste faded from his features. He handed her the bag. "It was captured from a man in Washington four days ago, just before he could use it to destroy the Latverian Embassy. "
"Go on," said Kim.
"As I said, it's an explosive device, one of almost unbelievable power considering its size."
"Okay."
"And it is completely undetectable by any current available technology."
"That's not good for the world's counter-terrorism efforts, but it fits the bill for our current sitch." She considered his face for a moment. "So what's the downside you're not telling me?"
Fowler grimaced. "As I said, it was designed as a weapon to be used by terrorists." He pressed his hands down forcefully on the tabletop until the fingertips became white. "The device can only be detonated from within the human body. The stomach, actually."
Kim felt as if ice water had been suddenly poured down her back. "So... So the delivery system is... me?"
Fowler gave her a tight nod and turned away. Kim looked over at Spode, but he was fiddling with the controls for the room's data terminal screen in a most unconvincing manner.
The teen groped her way over to the nearest chair and dropped down heavily.
There's a way around this, something they're all missing. I just need to think.
But the Analysis Section was designed to be impregnable to outside assault and all those brainwashed scientists will make sure that I could never sneak a less discriminating weapon with me to the meeting with Whateley.
What did Ron say a few hours ago? I was way overdrawn at the Bank of Luck. He's no scholar, but the boy has a certain degree of insight. The gunmen, that first tangle with Whateley, his demon horde, Roku and the other mutants, we did good, really, really good to have even made it this far.
But this weekend has shown that the supply of evil in the world is pretty close to infinite, and so maybe it's just not realistic to think that every victory can come without a price tag.
Huh. I don't usually go all philosophical like this. I guess if you pile a half dozen fights to the death, messed up sleeping and eating patterns, and a lifetime's worth of emotional turmoil into two and a half days, it changes a girl. You see the world in a new light. Or is it more the absence of light that I'm finally starting to notice?
"Miss Possible? I just want to say that I do not see this as a... suicide mission."
Kim forced her gaze to focus on Fowler. "Sure."
"Whateley's desire for revenge is our... passkey to get you into the facility. But once you two are down there, I'm certain that some other opportunity will present itself. It's been demonstrated time and time again that you are an amazingly resourceful young woman and-"
"What do you mean by 'you two'?"
"You and Ron Stoppable."
"No. Absolutely not. The one and only precondition I'm setting for this... activity is that Ron be far, far away when it happens." She glanced at the wall clock and then over to Spode. "Call and get a plane ready. I want him in the air on his way back to Middleton before twelve. You'll probably have to drug him, knock him out in some way, but...
"Why are you just sitting there?" she demanded.
"You told us yourself a short time ago that you could only resist Whateley's mind control power while in the company of your friend. It would be pointless to send you down there without him."
"Not pointless," corrected Fowler. "Actually harmful to our cause. If you were to start working for Whateley-"
"Okay, I get it. I just forgot for a minute." She saw the men exchange troubled looks. "I guess getting blasted by a stun gun and then thrown into a containment field takes its toll on the short term memory."
She heard Fowler mumble, "God, if there was any other way... "
"I can do this," said Kim. "I've never failed on a mission yet and I won't start now when the stakes are this high." She lowered her voice to add, "But you know, gentlemen, I'd really appreciate not having to beg for the opportunity to carry this one out."
Fowler winced. "Of course."
After Spode had nodded his own agreement, Kim said, "All right then. Tell me more about the explosive. Is there a timed detonation?"
"No," said Fowler, seemingly grateful for the new topic. "Once it's inside you, a mental link will appear. The device will only explode when, ah, excuse me, if you will it to happen."
Kim shook her head sadly and whispered, "If only that kind of brilliance could be directed toward helping people... " More loudly she asked, "How powerful will the blast be?"
"Enough to kill anyone in a thirty yard radius. But, given Whateley's unique ancestry, getting as close to him as you can manage will be best."
Kim's mind replayed the last conversation she had had with Whateley and decided that part of the plan would not be difficult to arrange.
She stood up and walked over to a tray holding a water pitcher. With her back to the two men she considered her right hand at length but saw no trembling.
Thank you!
She filled a tall glass and carried it back to her chair. Seating herself once more, she reached across the table and pulled the plastic bag towards her. When it was open she placed it on the back of her tongue. She eyed Spode and then Fowler, before raising the glass to her lips.
Come on, Possible. You can appreciate the irony here, can't you? All the brain strain, the angst you've put yourself through this weekend, agonizing over just what tomorrow held for you and Ron.
She filled her mouth with water and swallowed hard. An involuntary groan escaped her as the capsule traveled downward in a slow painful manner.
When all along, the cold hard reality was that you don't get a future.
(More Author Notes:
A big thank you, and a forever Ti amo, goes out to my pinch-hitting beta reader, Tina LNW. I'd call you the dilithium crystals in my warp engines... but that would be geeky.
The Roderick Spode featured in this story is the putative grandson of a character appearing in the writings of P. G. Wodehouse.
By the same process of appropriation Gideon Whateley is the son of Wilber Whateley, who appears in H. P. Lovecraft's "The Dunwich Horror."
Abner Perry has a recurring role in the Pellucidar novels of Edgar Rice Burroughs.
Dan Fowler is the son and namesake of an intrepid Federal Agent whose exploits were chronicled by C. K. M. Scanlon, et al, in G-Men Magazine from the 1930s to the 1950s.
I know, I know, I need to read more fiction from the second half of the 20th Century!
The central European nation of Latveria plays a prominent role in the Marvel Comics Universe. Thanks again to Stan Lee and Jack Kirby.
Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable were created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley for the Disney Channel.
All of the above characters and concepts are used here without permission from the copyright holders but admiration rather than financial gain is the motivation.)