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 graphic violence.)
25. A Taste Of Hell
Monday Afternoon:
"There is a... presence in your mind that was not there the last time we met," said Gideon Whateley. "More of your Day Magic, I presume?" Without waiting for a reply he concluded, "Perhaps the courage necessary to face me a second time just couldn't come naturally to you... "
"No clue what you're talking about, Whateley," said Kim Possible. "But as long as one of us likes the sound of your voice, drone on." As for my courage, you'll get a demonstration of that just as soon as I see you take your hand off the triggering control for the Doomsday Machines.
They were about twenty feet apart now. There were four mind-controlled scientists standing between her and Whateley, but they hadn't bothered to pick up their modified weaponry again. Kim knew it had been rendered useless because of her earlier attempt to fire one of the guns.
One of the still conscious employees of the Analysis Section was a middle-aged Ukrainian physicist named Berkovich. Even though he was sweating heavily, the man seemed to pale slightly as he turned back to the towering Whateley. "Sir, there is no 'Day Magic' involved here. She couldn't have any type of technology with her. It's absolutely impossible! I personally supervised the scanning procedures before they were allowed down here. We went through every test in the book on the both of them - including a few that I designed myself."
When Whateley did not reply, Dr. Berkovich felt compelled to add, "Sir, believe me, there is no facility on Earth more impregnable than this one. Nothing gets in or out unless we know and approve it."
It was at that moment when something small and pink dropped onto Whateley's shoulder. The hairless skin was covered with streaks of dirt in several places but Kim knew it was Rufus even before he gave her a quick, insouciant wave.
She wasted valuable microseconds first recovering from astonishment, then looking over to see that the one and only entrance to the Analysis Section was still firmly closed. Forcing the mystery of the naked mole rat's sudden appearance from her thoughts, she sprang up onto the shoulders of the nearest scientist and used her as a springboard for a longer leap forward.
Surprise had caused Whateley to draw his right hand from his coat pocket - without the control device.
"Rufus, there's a gadget in there. Get it!"
He moved without hesitation, which was fortunate because an instant later Whateley's grasping fingers reached the spot he had just vacated. Kim's drop kick staggered Whateley for a moment, and Rufus dove into the pocket she had indicated.
Realizing he would need a further distraction, the teen drove a shoe into the back of Whateley's right leg, but she might as well have attempted to kick over a Sequoia. Her blow seemed to have no impact at all except that one of his hands reached down and closed around her throat. She was lifted up as effortlessly as a toy and shaken until her teeth clicked together. No doubt he intended to slam her into the wall nearby, but with a cry of pain and surprise he suddenly dropped her to the floor.
Kim half staggered, half crawled a dozen feet away, and when her vision cleared again, she saw Rufus moving his jaws up and down with his face contorted as if he had tasted something nasty. The triggering device was in his arms. Glowering, Whateley rubbed at a place on his thigh and then raised one of his misshapen feet in a threatening manner.
"Rufus, come here! Give me the thing! Okay, now down that way; try to find Ron!"
Kim stood up again and briefly considered the remote control. None of its buttons or dials was labeled, and it was impossible to tell which would activate the metal dissolving machines and which had neutralized the electronic guns. She thrust it into a front pocket of her cargo pants and looked upwards.
"Guess Team Whateley really isn't 'all that'," she told the man who glared over at her.
The tufts of hair at his temples, and the wispy beard at the end of his pointed chin actually seemed to quiver slightly in suppressed anger, but his voice was untroubled as he told her, "We shall see."
He raised a hand into the air and the fingers began to flutter. There was a strange reverberation to his voice as he intoned, "Llathraq cuotien shinte'er."
When he was done, his arm lowered and every prostrate scientist suddenly sprang up from the floor. As one they turned toward Whateley and Kim noticed that a few of them had their eyes closed.
Even knocked out or... dead, they still have to obey him.
"Gather up the weapons," ordered Whateley. "All the weapons. Stand guard by the door. But not you."
This last sentence was directed toward Dr. Berkovich. "Take a gun and watch that corridor. Both the boy and the... rodent are favored by Hanuman. If either makes an attempt to return... " The iceberg eyes shifted back to Kim for a moment. "You know what to do."
Turning his full attention back to the teen he said, "You will be handing over that remote. Soon. The only question remains how much unpleasantness will befall you before it happens."
She tilted her head to one side a little. "You mean things could get worse for me?" At the first hint that he's coming inside my brain again, I blow him into tiny little pieces.
What am I saying? That happens no matter what. It's the end of the line for him - and me. As weird as Rufus' appearance here might be, nothing's changed. If anybody - or anything - else were going to pop up, it would have happened by now.
So finish the job.
Kill him. Splatter his guts over every wall of this lab. Make him sorry he ever laid a hand on you. Teach him that when you mess with Kim Possible, there is a heavy price to be paid. Oh, but it would be so much more enjoyable if I could clue him in on the secret right before I do it.
Enjoyable?
Where did that come from?
Okay, Possible, let's try to hold on to at least a couple of marbles while the fate of the world is in your hands.
With a start she realized he had begun moving toward her. She gave ground just as quickly and kept the same distance between them. When he stopped, she stopped.
"Look around you," he commanded. "Our time on the Earth, mine and yours, is coming to an end. You need to be preparing yourself for what comes next."
Kim noticed that almost all of the painted letters were glowing now and some of the larger symbols were spinning. "So... we're heading to outer space?"
"No. Not as you understand it. I am going to the Dreamlands, a world similar in many ways to this one, but where magic is superior to technology."
"Sounds perfect for you. Why didn't you leave a long time ago?" Then I might be able to measure my remaining life span in years, not minutes.
"The DeGrandin Barrier has been in place for more than half a century."
Whatever that means. "And now you've found a way to get around it?" He nodded. "Which has something to do with Ron and me?"
"Correct." He eyed her speculatively. "I suppose you were told melodramatic stories of human sacrifices being conducted at the house where we first met."
Kim felt a prickling sensation between her shoulder blades. "Yes."
"Untrue. I don't sacrifice the human beings that come into my grasp. I bargain very shrewdly with their lives."
The teen became aware that her pulse had started to pound again. "In exchange for what?"
"Ensorcelled things. Weapons, jewelry, books... servants. Items that no museum on Earth today can provide for me."
I knew the contents of that house represented criminal activity on a massive scale, but if even a small percentage of those possessions came his way by murder...
"And what do you have to show for it all now, Whateley? Your toys have been taken away. Forever."
The massive tendons on the back of one hand tightened visibly. "I realize that. Which is why death is too merciful for you."
"Right. Yeah. So, who did you... trade those people to?"
"They're called The Fallen Ones. A cult of renegade Yithians."
"What did they want them for?"
Whateley gave her an I'm-glad-you-asked-that look. "Understand that the Yithians - the Great Race as they are sometimes called - have psionic abilities that allow them complete access to all of Time and Space. Material things do not interest them, except as trading fodder for lesser beings. What drives the Cult is a hunger, a psychic addiction, to the pain and torment of living things."
"And you turned people over to them in exchange for a few magical trinkets? Knowing what they would face?"
"I did. Over and over again."
He's goading me. Whether the story is true or not - and I'm afraid that it is - he's trying to get me to become so outraged that I blindly attack him. I suppose I should be flattered that he considers me any kind of a threat at all now, given how much bigger and stronger he is than me. Not to mention how much more rested and-
That's the second time I've noticed him covertly rubbing his elbow against his side. Why? That's not where Rufus bit him, and I can't think of anything I did on Sunday morning to cause an injury there.
"The Cult has existed for centuries," continued Whateley. "Long enough to turn torture into an art form. But even with all that expertise, they tend to go through their stock rather quickly. And I've heard complaints that the humans of this time period are too physically and emotionally fragile.
"That's why I wanted to get you and your lover down here. The two of you promise long term entertainment value."
Like that Harvey woman said, there are some things worse than death. "So you played us up big, did you? Made us seem like we'd be a real crowd-pleasing attraction."
"I did. Once I deliver you both, I will be transported to the Dreamlands. Probably with additional rewards as well."
"So why destroy the Earth? It's not like the police or the military will be able to serve an arrest warrant on you in another dimension."
"I will allow no one else to take possession of my home or my collection."
"Huh. Way to act your age, Whateley. With a maturity level like that, I'm surprised you can even bear to hand me over at all. I'm sure you wish your revenge could be more direct. More personal."
"Your torment, your agony will be satisfaction enough, regardless of who inflicts it upon you."
Well, aren't you broadminded? But I'm not buying it. There's a bloodlust inside of you. Hey, that's why you decided six billion people have to be punished for your earlier defeat.
Of course there's a plus side here, as well. If you hadn't ordered that all the guns down here be turned lethal, you could have easily beat Ron and me just by zapping us unconscious as soon as we stepped through the first door.
Maybe that character flaw can be put to good use one more time.
Aloud she said, "Whateley, I can't believe you would let the opportunity go by to try for some measure of vengeance on me. Sure, bad times are headed my way, but not from you.
"You were beaten by a seventeen year old girl, Gideon. Man, that's gotta irk you some. Don't you want another go at it?"
"You're of no value to me dead, wench. The Cult needs their victims intact."
"So? You're a thief, Whateley. Been one longer than any criminal I've ever known. Steal a bit of their fun and give me a partial payment for all the grief I laid down on you."
"Stop your prattling, Squib. And hand over that remote."
Ron is so much better at this than me. Yeah, usually without even meaning to! But I have to keep trying. "Is it true what I was told about your father? Him being a thief, too, I mean?"
"Silence, Whore-spawn," he growled, turning away to consider the state of the painted symbols.
"But he wasn't very good at it, was he?"
He replied only with an animalistic snarl.
"And what a way for a crook to go, torn apart by a pack of watch dogs while he tried to steal a library book."
His eyes were back upon her now, fury narrowing them to slits.
"Too bad you never had any kids of your own, Whateley. Nobody to hand down that proud moment of family history."
He came toward her quickly enough for the edge of his coat to flap backwards a few inches and Kim realized there was a dark stain visible on the shirt he wore underneath it.
That's the spot on his chest I've seen him rubbing his elbow against. But it's dark green, not red...
Oh, right.
Kim watched his rapid approach, with his outstretched arms raised up to the height of her throat. Forcing herself to not retreat was hard, resisting the urge to close her eyes while she did so even more so.
If I'm wrong about the length of his arms...
As soon as his clammy fingers first brushed against her neck, she drew her legs up tight to her chest so that he had to suddenly support her full weight. This caused him to lean forward perhaps another inch and may have contributed slightly to the impact of her right and then left shoes lashing out against the place on his torso where the now out-of-sight stain seemed to be centered. The tightening grip on her throat prompted the teen to keep her heels thumping against his ribcage faster and harder.
After perhaps twenty such kicks he dropped her to the floor. Resisting the very strong impulse to back away from him, Kim scrambled onto her hands and feet, lunged to one side to avoid a kick of his right leg, and then sprang up, her body just inches away from his.
She jabbed her thumbs into his eyes and twisted them. Then the fingers of her left hand grabbed onto his meager beard while her right fist hammered his nose and mouth a half dozen times in as many seconds.
Hitting him is like pounding on a brick wall. Even with Wade's special protective gloves, I can really feel it.
Whateley managed to bring his arm up between them and Kim was thrust backwards ten feet or more, to land heavily on one shoulder, hip, and then the side of her head. She shook off the pain and regained her footing only just in time to avoid the kick, which instead crumbled a steel-walled equipment locker to half its original size.
Kim darted forward several paces, then turned to gauge his own progress. There were three different streaks of green fluid visible now on his face, and his left eye was already swelling quite noticeably.
She was wondering how badly his vision would be impaired on that side, when the image of an orange and red fireball suddenly flashed into her brain.
It will be so pretty. Like a fireworks display. And if anybody in this world deserves death, it's this... thing before me.
She shook her head violently from side to side. Okay, if that has to happen, it will be to save humankind, not out of a desire for retribution.
Kim moved to what she hoped would be just outside of his striking range, trying to keep to his left as much as possible.
One of his big hands darted out at her and she chopped at the underside of his wrist. The pain this caused her, however, made her think she got the worst of the exchange. The next time he did that, she feigned another side hand strike but then gripped his wrist instead.
As he pulled his arm back, she jumped forward so that his strength and her own combined to increase the impact of her shoulder slam against his stomach. She drove her left forearm into his throat, and a knee into his side, although not as close as to his apparent injury as she would have liked. Undeterred, the teen aimed her right fist squarely at his unimpaired eye. Again and again she landed blows there, too many to count and would have continued in that mindless fashion until someone's bones had shattered.
Whateley started backing up unsteadily, and Kim kept pushing him off balance. After moving two or three paces, it was clear he was about to topple over, so she knelt down and then kicked off. When they struck the floor, Kim was on top of him with her knees on his belly and both her forearms pressing against his neck. There was a distinct cracking sound when his head hit the floor.
She got to her feet shakily. Whateley lay motionless on his back, limbs sprawled out and eyes closed.
She couldn't speak at first, as she struggled to regain her breath. Glancing around her, Kim saw Dr. Berkovich and the scientists by the entrance were now milling about in a confused, aimless manner.
The teen started to walk around Whateley in a wide circle. Changing her vantage point allowed her to see the long fissure in the ceramic tile that his head rested upon. And when his eyes snapped open again, they were focused directly on her.
Something close to a whimper escaped from Kim as she started to move away, but Whateley did not pursue her immediately. Instead, he raised up his hands with the backs toward her. As she watched, the ends of his fingers began to enlarge and darken, while the nails elongated and formed a jagged, saw-toothed edge. A second later, a thick yellow-green liquid began to ooze slowly into view from the nail tips.
She briefly considered whether this might be poison, then the realization struck her like a physical blow. Whatever that stuff is, it allows him to control anyone who gets it into their bloodstream.
"One scratch will be sufficient," Whateley said, confirming her own thoughts. "When my essence is within you, you will gladly join my cause. Not just bodily, your thoughts and desires will also be devoted to serving my will."
A defiant retort was called for here, but Kim's chest suddenly felt very tight. That's all. It's done. I can't fight someone I don't dare come near. I've been beaten.
But my defeat doesn't have to, will not become, his victory. Not with what I brought down here.
The teen forced her throat to start working again. "Okay, Whateley. It's the last act of this movie and there won't be a sequel. No more delaying the inevitable.
"I... I'm thinking it's time for this to be settled one way or the other. C'mon, before I change my mind.
"Move!"
And he did, not quite running but crossing the distance between them at a rapid pace. She had decided the explosion would come just as his nails made contact with her flesh to ensure maximum impact.
Just a few more feet now, she thought as her inner vision focused on the contours of the device within her. It really is the most incredible piece of engineering I've ever seen...
He's standing right in front of me. But with such a wary look on his face. Don't be afraid, Gideon. It's going to be amazing!
Behind her back, the teen's fists were so tightly clenched she was sure that the nails would cut into her palms even through the fabric of her gloves.
That's the spot there. Where all the silvery wires converge at the top. Concentrate, and be ready to give it the tiniest little mental nudge. Such an easy thing to do and yet the payoff will be so powerful.
(don't be so quick to act. think about what you're doing.)
Kim had to lock her knees together because the muscle tremors in her legs made it seem that she wouldn't be able to remain standing much longer.
I hope the security cameras down here survive the blast. I know Mom and Dad will want to watch the explosion over and over again.
(what?)
Okay, he's bringing his arm toward me. Where's he going to touch me? Stomach? That would be ironic, huh? Wait, his hand is lifting up higher. Oh, right, the face. Probably thinks he'll get a nice long look at the disfiguring cut it'll make there.
Hah! We'll just see about that.
Say, I wonder if the surveillance equipment down here is hi-def. This explosion is going to be as pretty as the opening of a flower's petals.
(no! need to focus. regain control of my own thoughts.)
Her teeth were grinding together until Kim thought she could taste blood in her mouth as his forefinger approached her left cheek.
Only centimeters to go! But I wish he'd get a move on already. I have a masterpiece to create here. What's that old saying about 'Art in the blood' anyway?
(this isn't whateley's doing. what's happening to me?)
Just as her body was about to humiliate her once more, Whateley suddenly tensed up and his one unswollen eye widened in surprise. "It's here," he muttered, in an incredulous tone. "How can that be?"
He took a step backwards and glanced around him. When Kim did the same, she saw the scientists were all collapsing to the floor.
I don't know why, but his concentration is off again. No telling how long it'll last this time, so I should attack him. Right now.
But what would that do to the plan? Don't forget there's only one true path to victory here.
(that's not true! use all of your brain to think about this.)
She took a step toward Whateley and worked to regain her inward focus on the explosive's triggering switch.
The fireball will be like a warm embrace. A blanket to protect you from any other cares or worries.
At that moment Ron came jogging up the corridor he had been dragged down minutes earlier. His clothes were torn in places, and there was a raw, red spot on his face. He was alone except for the naked mole rat scampering along beside him. The teen was holding a piece of dully glinting metal up in one hand.
"Yo, eyes on me, dude! Look what I've got here!"
A heated fury filled the controlling portions of Kim Possible's brain. Can't you do anything right, Stoppable? I almost had this one in the Win column and you come along and screw it up!
Now I have to hold back. Vengeance is not mine, thanks to you... loser.
(he isn't! he's come to help you. protect you. from yourself.)
But do I really have to give in? Is it my fault if he shows up where he's not needed?
No, it isn't. Anyway, maybe I'd be doing him a favor after all. The explosion is going to be so... exquisite, he might be able to share a part of it with me. There should be enough satisfaction and, yeah, pleasure for the both of us.
One last gift to my BFF...
At that moment the teen sank to the floor as two opposing parts of her brain went to war with each other. Her arms and legs refused mental directions; so did her closed eyelids, but her ears still functioned.
Ron: "It's over, Giddy. You've lost! Everything! Your house, all your stolen loot, the ability to keep below the radar of the cops. It's been flushed away, and you're about to join it. Give it up!"
Whateley: "You actually believe that can give you a victory here. Over me?"
Ron: "No doubt about it. Surrender now or I make your yesterdays not so warm and fuzzy."
Whateley, after a lengthy pause: "You have no idea of the forces, the eldritch powers you are toying with here. In your blind ignorance you are stumbling about like a gnat in a tornado."
"Kinda my life story, champ. Now give up or get erased from the hard drive of life."
"Do you really wish to see the true nature of your chosen weapon, boy? Let me oblige you."
There was a pause, a flash of energy that she sensed rather than observed, and Ron emitted a long, low moan of pain that pierced through Kim's inner turmoil.
(he needs me! get out of my head!)
He's keeping you from your destiny! Your greatest accomplishment. Do you want the world to think that at the time they needed you most, you just didn't have the nerve, the willpower to take that final step?
Ron's voice came to her again, anguish drawing out the words, "Okay.. Didn't know it could do that... "
"Say again?" asked Whateley, his own voice more energetic and enthusiastic than she had ever known it to be. "You want some more? Well, certainly, boy. You have but to ask."
An inarticulate wail of torment filled the room despite its low volume. Then Ron started to call her name but before the final consonant could be uttered, he was abruptly silenced.
A moment later Kim thought she felt a slight rippling sensation in her stomach, and the other internal voice disappeared.
Of course I knew about the "mental link" between me and the bomb. Fowler, the FBI guy, told me that right from the start. But it would have been freakin' nice to be warned that messages could travel in both directions. That the device was programmed to make sure its 'mailman' wouldn't chicken out, and could even override their thought processes to a certain extent, so they'd be less likely to hold back from detonation.
It was beatable, finally, but it still used up valuable seconds to do it.
Ron!
The teen stood up again as quickly as her knotted muscles would allow and looked frantically about her. Whateley's features were twisted by what she assumed was his attempt at a smile. He was staring down at the motionless figure of Ron Stoppable, who's own face was set in an agonized frozen grimace while his eyes stared upwards, unblinking, lifelessly.
If I still had a connection to my body, I'd cover my ears, turn my head away, or better yet, just go running off in another direction - any other direction. But when you're dead, it can really limit your options.
Yet another memory crashed into Ron's consciousness. He was five years old at his Aunt Esther's funeral and his Cousin Reuben was insisting he pay his final respects. 'Just one kiss on her cheek, to show your love for her.'
The recollection of straining futilely against the larger boy's grip on his jacket, and the scuff marks his shoes made on the linoleum as he was dragged over to the open casket, were more clear and vivid in his mind than any recent life experience.
Even as he again stared down at the desiccated, heavily painted features of the deceased woman, a new recollection emerged from just a year ago. After months of virtually no contact at all, Zita had called him. Initially apprehensive, his responses became more animated as their conversation ranged from teachers, to on-line games, to movies they both enjoyed, and he was about to invite her to check out a new ice cream parlor that had opened in town when she asked with feigned casualness, "So, Ron, is Felix seeing anyone?"
Then, ten years before that, while playing hide and seek at Kim's house, he had knocked a plaster cast of her baby feet off of a shelf and it had shattered into countless pieces. Confessing this to her mother was excruciating enough, and then, when he finally forced himself to look up at her as he stammered out his apology he saw not anger, but a tear run slowly down the side of her nose...
He was propelled forward once more to his Freshman Year of High School and the bitter, bitter taste of the lunch Kim had shared with him a few hours after he had cravenly handed over all the money he possessed to the so-called 'Kings of D Hall'.
Next came the time when Kim's father, out of sight but unfortunately not completely out of earshot, had said, "Anne, you know I like the boy, but he needs to spend more time at his own house."
This was followed by the much earlier memory of his mother's voice, weary and irritated at the same time, saying, "No, I will not accept any more collect calls from him, and I wish you people would stop enabling this ridiculous behavior." And the weight of the collected stares of all the camp counselors packed into the Administration Office threatened to grind him into the carpet he stood upon.
Then he got to relive every one of those thirty-nine rain-soaked minutes he had spent crouched down in the thorny, bug-infested shrubbery of the house across the street from Josh Mankey's home. For thirty-nine minutes Kim was alone with the boy, no, the young man, until Monkey's father had finally shown up. Kim and Josh were supposed to be organizing an Art Fair for Middleton High, but Ron knew what the real story was. His imagination had supplied a very graphic answer to the question of what really went on behind that closed door.
Next, or actually a few years earlier, came another overheard conversation, this time between his own parents. His father started off. "You know, even leaving aside my allergies for the moment, I don't think he's responsible enough to take care of a pet."
"I'm painfully aware of that," snapped back his mother. "But we have to consider it."
"Why?"
"Elliot, have you looked at Kimmie recently? I mean really looked at her? Well, I was at their school on Tuesday and the boys her age are starting to do just that. She's going to be a beauty and we have to prepare for the possibility that this friendship may be in its final days. So you tell me what else Ronnie has in his life right now to fill that void?"
The only answer was an oppressive silence.
Okay, so now I understand why people try to avoid the whole dying thing for as long as possible. For some of us at least, having your life flash before your eyes is just adding insult to fatal injury.
But none of these memories is as painful as knowing that when Kim needed me most, I failed her. I thought the magic of the Silver Key could be a secret weapon to use in the fight against Whateley. Yeah, well, it got used all right. On me. And now Kim's probably getting her own taste of it. First, the death ray that Whateley can make shoot out of the key, then the memories. But I'm guessing the only bad experience KP will have to relive is meeting me on the first day of Pre-school.
Life is - was - so much better when you don't think, Stoppable! For everybody!
Yeah, but on the bright side, a screw up this major can only happen once, since I have now pretty much guaranteed that Whateley wins and the World ends.
Ron was lamenting the irony that the dead were denied the mercy of suicide when suddenly he found himself back in his body, lying on the floor of the Analysis Section, his eyes focused on the broken light fixtures many feet above him.
I'm alive? Well, sort of. And now I know what it feels like to be puréed, or at least have all my muscles turn to jelly.
Although he felt as sluggish as if he was at the bottom of a fondue pot, the teen managed to raise himself onto one knee and stare blankly around him.
Rufus was close by, on his back, legs limp and quivering. "Boots... Heavy boots," he squeaked softly. "Stomping... Crushing... And nobody has any cheese!" About a foot away from the mole rat, the Silver Key sparkled a bit too brightly given the reduced lighting.
Man, talk about taking one for the Team... But where's Kim? If I'm not dead, maybe she isn't either.
In slow motion, he turned his head to the left and then the right, locating Kim Possible on the other side of the room. Whateley had her backed up against one of the Section's curved walls, his hands poised menacing in front of her. But even across this distance, Ron could see she wore a look of grim satisfaction.
He tried to call out but a low gurgling noise was the only result. Ron struggled to stand up, fell twice, then decided crawling would be more efficient. By marshaling every bit of resolve he possessed, Ron managed to get his hands and feet into position to begin edging forward.
Move, Stoppable! For once in your life do something fast!
Whateley's outstretched fingers slashed at Kim's face. She knocked his arm to one side and kicked him with each shoe in turn landing on a place where a dark stain showed through his frock coat. A trembling seemed to go through his body, but he did not back away.
His left hand stretched out for her next. She grabbed his wrist and used his own momentum to draw his arm forward so that his fingers collided with the wall behind her. His nails scraped away layers of paint as they traveled along the curved surface, and some of the fingers now pointed out at unnatural angles.
Whateley then aimed a kick of his own, but Kim evaded it by dodging to one side. His shoe punched effortlessly through fiberboard and then produced a distinct clanging noise as it made contact with the five-inch thick metal barrier that formed the outer shell of the Analysis Section.
Pain, surprise, or both caused Whateley to become statue rigid. But not Kim. She pushed off from the wall with her hands and feet, and her knees struck the bigger man's chest while his weight still rested on one leg.
Whateley toppled over like a axed tree. Ron winced at the noise the man's head made when it struck the floor, but his best friend seemed less charitably inclined. Still poised on his chest, she grabbed fist fulls of hair and slammed his skull against the floor four more times almost quicker than the eye could follow.
Scrambling to her feet, the teen kicked down on that spot on his torso that had already received so much attention from her. She put both strength and mass into the blow, but before it could be repeated, Whateley brought an arm up and clamped his uninjured hand onto her ankle.
Instantly, Kim threw herself to one side, which caused Whateley to experience the sensation of having his arm suddenly twist at a 90-degree angle while an unpleasant grating noise filled the air.
Both opponents regained their footing at the same time. They faced toward each other and both seemed obvious to anything else. From Ron's perspective Kim was standing directly in front of Whateley, but the huge difference in their heights meant his face was still visible.
Man, I didn't think there was any more room for ugly there, but I was wrong. It looks like Whateley had been run over by a convoy of bulldozers, and yet, he's still on his feet and seems ready to go another couple of dozen rounds. He's got alien DNA in him, which means he can take punishment that would put any regular guy -any five regular guys - out of commission for a long time.
But after all she's suffered through this weekend, what's Kim got left inside of her to tap into?
His best friend started moving backward, and for a moment Ron believed she had finally reached the limit of human endurance.
Then when nearly twenty feet separated the two, she halted and placed her right hand against the small of her back. The fingers flexed once before forming a tight fist.
Kim started running forward, faster and faster, her borrowed shoes drumming along the floor tiles.
Whateley saw it coming but took no defensive action. Perhaps the injuries to his arm and hand were too severe. Maybe he misjudged just how quickly she could cover the distance between them. Then again, it might have been something in Kim's expression that made him hesitate. Certainly there was a strange look on his face as she approached.
When Kim was still three paces away, her fist shot forward as if launched by a catapult. When it struck Whateley's chin, he suddenly developed the power of flight. His body hurtled through the air for a 180-degree revolution before striking the wall face first. He stayed in place for a moment, as if held in place by something sticky, and then rest of his body seemed to flow along the curved surface until coming to rest on the floor.
He remained motionless until the redhead kicked his upper arm, the one that covered his face from view. The blow shifted Whateley up to one side, but he sank back onto his stomach an instant later.
"Get up," snarled Kim, as she kicked him twice more. When he didn't stir, she bent over and grabbed hold of his coat labels. Raising him up caused his head to strike the wall once more, and Ron decided that was not a mistake on the part of his best friend.
Kim wasn't tall enough to lift Whateley completely off the floor, but the shaking she gave his upper torso made his head loll spasmodically. When that didn't cause his eyes to open, she knocked him against the wall twice more.
"Wake up! I'm not done with you yet."
Ron had managed to return to a standing position, and was close enough now to place a hand on her shoulder. She whirled, her face contorted with a murderous ferocity that almost caused him to back away. She had to stare at him for several seconds before her features softened. Her eyes flicked over to the place where Ron had lain unconscious, then back to him.
Her mouth opened but nothing emerged except exhaled breath.
"Let him go," said Ron quietly. "It's over."
As if in a daze, Kim looked slowly from his face to Whateley's, or at least to what was visible there beneath the splashes of green liquid. She slammed him against the wall one last time, and then tossed him onto the floor.
Kim turned back to Ron, her expression showing defiance. Then that melted away and in a barely audible tone she said, "I thought you were dead."
"I thought so, too, for a while there," he replied, his volume matching hers.
"And I came so very, very close to joining you." A shudder made her shoulders twitch. "But you know what held me back, the second time I mean? What made me... delay things was that I didn't just want him to... "
Her lower lip started to quiver and she had to breathe in and out very deeply before she could speak again. "It wasn't enough just to kill Whateley, even though I absolutely knew I was going to do that." She closed her eyes tightly before concluding, "I wanted him to suffer first... "
She seemed to force herself to meet his gaze, as if afraid of seeing disapproval there. But concern quickly replaced apprehension on her features. "You don't look... I... What did he do to you?"
He was struggling to come up with a flippant reply when, out of nowhere, a sob burst out of him. Her arms were around him in an instant, her hand on the back of his head. With his face pressed against her hair, he gasped out, "I thought I... I had messed up... So bad... Not even you... "
She hugged, and caressed, and shushed him until he fell silent again, but even in the ecstasy of that moment he was aware that she had swiveled the two of them a few degrees to one side so she could keep better watch on Whateley.
With willpower he didn't know he possessed, Ron gently but insistently broke the embrace. Kim was crying, too, now, but her eyes were focused intently upon him and there was an expectant look on her face.
He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes with a sleeve. "I don't know about you, KP. But I'm thinking it might be time to ask for a raise."
When she had finally returned a small portion of his smile, he asked, "So what number is this one anyway? Nine? Ten?"
Her brows moved together until she could decipher his question. "The save-the-world thing? Seven, I think. Or maybe eight." She took another look in Whateley's direction before asking, "What happened to Rufus?"
"He's over here. C'mon."
"Is he all right?" But even as Kim asked the question, Rufus turned his head weakly in their direction.
Ron gently lifted him off the floor, and cradled him in his arms. "How you doing, buddy? You okay?"
The mole rat raised a paw and rotated his wrist in one direction, then the other. "So so."
"But why is he so dirty?" asked Kim. "And how did he get here?"
"Well, he said something before about a plane ride with no in-flight movie or meal."
"It would have to be a rocket to get him out here from Middleton this fast."
Ron considered this. "Then Spode was behind it. I heard he had arranged for a supersonic plane to be turned over to GJ."
She frowned. "The man loves his little surprises, doesn't he?" Caressing her stomach again she added, "And believes in achieving victory by any means necessary."
"Hey buddy, you must be whipped if you had to dig all the way down here. We're miles underground."
"Eight hundred feet," corrected Kim. "And he wouldn't have to dig all the way. Remember they told us they had borrowed some excavation machines. I'd guess they took him to the outer edge of the Section's sensor range, and he dug over from there. Apparently he's too small to set off any alarms."
"Small, but a big, big help when I needed it most. Man, am I glad you showed up when you did, buddy!"
"Not anymore than me," insisted Kim. "Believe me, Rufus. After this weekend, I will never, ever, take you for granted again."
As she stroked the top of the mole rat's head, Ron asked, "So, now do I get to hear about the gadget Spode set you up with?"
"Huh. Yeah." She looked back toward Whateley once again, then over at the mystical key, before making a low, humorless laughing noise. "It's, ahh... I'm sure we're going to think it's sort of funny someday... Some far off day..." Her smile died a premature death. "Well, anyway, two days ago I did promise I'd tell you what an emetic was.
"Wait a minute, though. If Rufus brought you the key, then what was the plan you tried to tell me about before we came down here?"
Ron knew she was attempting to change the subject but her reason to do so was unclear to him. Before he could challenge her on it, however, unexpected things began to happen.
The painted symbols and letters on the walls suddenly burst into flame and yet conversely, the temperature of the air around them began to drop with incredible speed.
"KP, what is it? What's going on?"
Her head moved in various directions, clearly as puzzled as he. She started to shake her head and muttered, "I don't... I... "
Then her eyes got bigger and he followed her line of sight upwards to see that a welter of swirling purple grey mist was forming into an oval some ten feet across. At its center the haze began to clear to reveal a large stone-walled chamber fashioned in a thoroughly alien architectural style. Within that room were scores of beings of all sizes and shapes and colors, none of which were human in appearance.
"I guess we really shouldn't be surprised about this," said Kim, raising her voice to be heard over the whooshing noise coming from the opening. "We were warned."
"We were?"
"Yeah. The brainwashed scientists told us about it."
"They did?"
"Uh huh. I believe the exact words were, 'They're coming for you.' "
(More author notes:
At the end of my last posting I said Chapter Twenty Five "should wrap up the mission and the weekend for Kim and Ron," but once again I had underestimated the time (and word count) required to tell the story. I apologize for that, but adding another installment to the total seems more considerate to readers than asking them to suffer through a chapter that would otherwise far exceed ten thousand words.
Wilbur Whateley (father of Gideon), the Dreamlands, the Yithians, and the Silver Key all first appeared in the writings of H. P. Lovecraft.
Most of Lovecraft's Cthulhu Mythos stories were published in the Weird Tales pulp magazine, which also featured the adventures of Seabury Quinn's occult adventurer, Jules DeGrandin.
Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable, and Rufus (!) 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.)