Required Disclaimer: If I had the rights to anything Kim Possible or thought I could profit from KP World in any way, I wouldn't be posting here: it's all good, not-for-profit, fannish fun. That's all.


Chapter Twenty Nine – Mourning Becomes Electric

The air was silvery and almost luminous.

The night mists that drifted in from the sea would often light up with the dawn's breaking light, giving a reddish-orange glow to the vapor-dense air. It was like walking through a fiery cloud beneath the ocean.

This was different, though. Like a mist in a grotto, illuminated by reflected moonlight, the air around him was hazy and pearlescent.

Something moved in the depths of the softly glowing fog.

A wedge of darkness flanked by two fiery blue wisps of flame.

He moved toward them but they glided deeper into the electric mist.

From time to time there was a sound—as if a sob or a sigh were barely whispered. A murmur of grief or longing.

As he moved toward the sounds and the two balls of blue fire bobbed in and out of view, it came to him that he was pursuing a yūrei—a dim spirit—and that he ought to be afraid.

Strangely, he wasn't.

There was a feeling associated with the presence in the fog. It wasn't vengeful like the Onryō or Goryō. There a wistful quality that radiated from the yūrei and it felt familiar.

She felt familiar!

The wedge of darkness came into view again.

Resolved itself into a tangled mass of black hair.

And he knew, even before she turned to look at him with haunted blue eyes—unnatural eyes, the color of the two wills-o-the-wisp that traveled on either side. What surprised him was that those eyes were not dead, the way a ghost's should be…

With a start, Hirotaka awoke in a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets.

RSVP

Ron stepped in front of Yoshi and Hana, pushing them back into the elevator with one hand and raising his walking stick with the other.

"Who's there?" he demanded of the silhouette across the room.

Candles burned on the sideboard providing a warm soft light in the dining room. A white tablecloth seemed to glow around the platters of bread and cheese and bowls of oranges, pomegranates, and eggs.

More white drapery adorned the walls, covering the mirrors and reflective surfaces of the suite.

A woman stepped forward, holding a tray with two glasses and a sippy cup. Familiar features emerged from the shadows.

"B-bonnie?"

She inclined her head. "I thought you might be thirsty. Please; make yourselves comfortable. When you are hungry, I've prepared a seudat havra'a. It's not fancy, but then, I guess it's not supposed to be.

Ron was very tired—physically and emotionally. The sight of his former social nemesis offering him the traditional condolence meal of mourning had him suddenly off balance. The candlelight softened her features and her expression seemed uncharacteristically gentle, almost spiritual. In place of her customary high-fashion, hot-body wardrobe, she wore a simple black dress with a modest cut and enough play in the material to help one forget the crazy curves that were usually on display. Her voice was low and quiet. If she had spoken to him in the dark, he wouldn't have known her.

"T-thank you, Bonnie," he finally said. "Your gesture is most kind." He reached for the sippy-cup and considered it for a moment.

"Milk," she assured him. "Milk in all of the glasses, in fact. Though I can pour you some water or…"

"Milk is just fine," he assured her, handing the child's cup to Hana. "Milk okay with you?" he asked Yoshi.

"Hai."

He passed a glass to her free hand. "What about you, Bonnie?"

"I'm fine," she answered. "I plan on picking some things up on the way home…"

"After you've broken bread with us, I hope," he said, taking the other glass.

"I—well—that is, I wouldn't presume to intru—"

"Intrude, Bon Bon? Ms. Kyoko Yoshiko is a former acquaintance and Global Justice operative posing as a Family Services social worker and child advocate…"

Yoshi's eyes widened and she almost dropped her glass. "Stoppable-san!"

He waved her off. "Life is difficult enough without complicating it with different versions of the truth. I want to raise Hana in a home where honesty is one of the guiding principles. I hope that I can trust my friends so that I can act in such a manner. Anyway, I hope to count Yoshi as a friend as well as an ally in the days to come and I hope that she will not find my shivah to be too trying over the next few days.

"But other than her and Hana, I have no family now and you are the only other friend who is here, tonight. Won't you sit shivah with me for an hour or two and share the seudat havra'a you have so graciously set out?"

Bonnie bobbed her head in an almost shy nod. "Of course, Ron. I would be honored."

RSVP

"This is ridiculous!" Kim Possible fumed. "I am perfectly capable of looking after my mother all by myself!"

Dr. Director took a deep breath and let it out slowly and softly, trying to imagine it was taking the stress and the bad vibes with it.

"Duff Killigan went after your and Ron's families. He's never done that before. And he managed to take out everyone who was there except for Ron's baby sister and your mother. Until he is captured or killed, I'm assigning agents to all of the survivors."

"Well, I'm an agent," Kim argued. "You can assign me to my mother. I've handled Killigan before."

Betty looked around at the other occupants of the stretch limo. Only one returned her look.

"Kimberly," she tried again, "you've been gone and, by all accounts, out of action for the better part of a year. You were only a provisional agent-trainee when you disappeared and I couldn't even reassign your old status without a comprehensive evaluation. Furthermore, when I say I'm assigning a security detail to each of the families' survivors, that includes you and Ron, as well."

"What?"

"Kim," her mother said tiredly, "just think about how we will have more quality time together if the burden of our security doesn't fall on you." Anne Possible continued to stare out the window as she had since the ride back from the cemetery had begun.

"We can revisit your status and the security arrangements in a few days, if you like," the head of Global Justice elaborated. "But for now, just spend time with your mother. You're all that each other have…"

Kim raised her hand in surrender and nodded. "Who do we get?"

The passenger wearing the brimmed hat with a black veil, raised the fine netting, revealing a familiar face. "Hi Kimmie."

"Oh no. Not Shego."

Her former foe frowned. "Hey, I thought we put the past behind us after we joined up with GJ."

"Yeah…well…"

"You okay, Kiddo? I noticed that you haven't had two words to say to your BFBF through two different memorial services."

"My relationship with Ron is none of your business. And that's just another example of why I don't want you on my detail!"

"Whoa, Princess! Just wanting to help. I'm sure Betts can find you another babysitter. I've got other things I can be doing…"

"Like Ron?"

"What?"

"Kim…" Anne muttered.

"We'll assign other agents," Betty interrupted. "Do you have any preferences?"

"I don't care," Anne murmured.

"How about your number one agent?" her daughter asked. "Is Will Du available?"

Betty looked at Kim and blinked. "Really? You…Du…?"

RSVP

"Round bread, wheels of cheese, eggs, fruit—as I understand it, these foods symbolize the circle and the cycle of life…" Bonnie faltered as she saw Ron staring at the food and at her. "I-I'm sorry if this isn't right. I've never tried to do a seudat havra'a before—I haven't even been to one in over a decade."

"Bonnie," Ron reached across the table and took her hand. "It's wonderful. I'm really touched to think that you would do this for me. How did you know?"

"About the condolence meal?" She blushed and looked down at her lap. "My parents—that is, my grandparents—we…"

"Bonnie? Are you Jewish?"

"I-I don't know…maybe…"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Her head came up and the fire in her eyes left no doubt that this was the same Bonnie Rockwaller he had known in high school.

"I'm not ashamed of being Jewish! That is—if I am Jewish! My father—his parents are—very traditional. I don't think my father—they don't talk much and never visit. My mother—dad married a shiksa. We celebrate Christmas—the commercial part, anyways—and try to fit in like good, generic Gentiles. My father seems to think he needs to be a chameleon for his business relationships. We'll go to temple somewhere for the high holy days but we don't keep kosher unless we have company that practices it. Then the Menorah and the Star of David comes out. I guess blood-wise, I'm half-Jewish. Practice-wise, I'm not even close…"

Ron gave her hand a squeeze. "Relax, Bon Bon. You're Jewish enough. If Adolph Hitler were around, he'd round you up and send you to the camps with the rest of us."

She started to smile and then caught herself. "And who says I want to be Jewish?"

Ron grinned. "Who says that you don't? The food's been blessed; let's eat."

He reached for the bread and tore off portions for Bonnie, Yoshi, and himself. The GJ operative was feeding Hana pieces of fruit. Bonnie reached out and took the bread from him. "Please…under the law, you do not serve as host, nor do you serve us. Let me."

As she rose and began seeing to everyone else's needs, Ron could only stare. "Who are you and what have you done with Bonnie Rockwaller?" he asked bemusedly.

RSVP

"Pizza's here," Will Du announced, entering the kitchen with a stack of cardboard boxes.

Kim scowled at him from the kitchen table. "Are we expecting a protracted siege?"

Dr. Director's self-proclaimed Number One shrugged as he placed one box on the table and the rest on the counter. "I like to be prepared. Every time we go out or order in, it creates a vulnerability point in our security. You've got a microwave and I like cold pizza so…synergy!"

Kim popped open the pizza box and eyed the wheel of cheese, sausage, tomato sauce, onions, and black olives. "I'm going to need a knife."

"What? They didn't pre-slice it?"

"Not all the way through. I hate the mess when you have to pull it apart and the toppings come off. Hand me the big one in the knife block by the stove."

Du moved to comply. "I tried calling from the Pizza Palace. I think there's something wrong with your phone."

"Yeah, Mom said the Tweebs were doing some kind of experiment last week and-" she waved her hand as if it completed the explanation.

"It was working earlier."

"It's an on and off kind of thing," Kim said. "I'll call the phone company tomorrow."

"Where's everyone else?"

Kim shrugged as she took the butcher knife from him and turned the box as she considered the pizza inside. "Mom went up to her room to lie down and Agent Harris is in the closet."

Du frowned. "Ah, look, Kim. Angie may be a bit—ah—mannish—but she's happily married and has a couple of kids. I'm surprised that you'd jump to some sort of stereotype—"

Kim waved the knife at him. "No, Will, I mean: Agent Harris is in the closet. I was speaking literally, not metaphorically."

Du stared at the red-headed girl as she began to separate the pizza into more recognizable sections and then turned and walked into the living room. He paused at the entryway and stood for a moment, trying to sort through a jumble of unease. Then he went to the closet by the front door and opened it.

RSVP

The elevator doors opened and a beautiful brunette woman stared at them from its interior.

"Uh, hello," Monique said. "Um, two to see Ron Stoppable…

Tara smiled and tugged on her companion's arm. "Monique, this is Dede. Dede, Monique is a close friend of Ron and Kim."

"Acknowledged. Confirmed. You may go up," the B-bot responded, stepping aside to let them enter. She keyed in the penthouse access code and the elevator started up.

"So…she's a…robot?" Monique asked sotto voce.

"I am," Dede confirmed.

"Wow! I mean, you look so real!"

"Of course. If you wish, you may touch my form and ascertain for yourself."

Monique shook her head as Tara ducked her head to hide her smile. "No, I mean, you look so human!"

"It is how I can best serve Ron Stoppable."

Tara's smile turned into a slight frown. "Uh, and how many ways are you programmed to serve Ron Stoppable?"

"My programming is highly adaptive and changeable. I can serve Ron Stoppable in any way imaginable."

"Oh yeah? Well I can imagine—"

Monique clapped a hand over the platinum blonde's mouth. "That's very interesting, Dede. Do I understand correctly that there are three of you?"

"Dede is Dede: I am me. There are no exact replicas of me: I am unique. Bebe and Cece are very much like me but each of us is unique now. As we experience existence separately and process all subsequent data, we continue to evolve on separate tracks so our differences and personalities become more distinct from each other."

"Like triplets," Monique observed.

"A serviceable analogy," Dede agreed.

Tara pulled Monique's hand from her mouth. "A word before we go in," she said. "This is not a party but kind of a wake. Ron's Jewish so, for the next several days he's supposed to be in serious mourning. Can't work, can't shave, I'm not sure he can even do housework, so I thought maybe we could offer to help out."

"I'm up for that," Monique said. "I tried to see Kim as soon as I heard but apparently she's not ready to receive company."

The elevator doors opened and both girls blinked in surprise.

RSVP

The closet door opened with a slight creak and Du blinked.

It took more than a few seconds for his mind to make sense of the interior arrangements.

Half of the coats and hangers had fallen to the floor. The other half were askew or had fallen on top of Agent Angela Harris, her sizable frame jammed into too small of a space to accommodate her properly. Her arms and legs were twisted and bent in impossible angles and even her head was turned around a good one-hundred-eighty degrees.

There was another slight creak behind him but there was no time to turn before he felt the large blade of the butcher knife slide into his back.

RSVP

The penthouse suite was filled with people. All of the black formal attire gave the impression of a serious cocktail party. Without the cocktails, of course.

Vivian Porter caught them three steps in. "You brought food? Good."

Tara nodded. "Bagels." She held out a covered tray.

"Cream cheese and lox on the side," Monique added as Bebe swooped by to take the tray to the crowded table.

"How's Ron?" Tara asked.

Vivian smiled. "He excused himself to wash his hands. That was ten minutes ago. I think he's overwhelmed by all the people who dropped by to bring food and offer their condolences."

Monique craned her neck to look around the main room. "I didn't know the Stoppables were so popular!"

"From what I can gather," the robotics scientist said, "all the people here came out for Ron. They're his friends or people that he and Kim helped on their missions."

"I thought no one ever remembered his name," Tara said, staring wide-eyed at the crowd.

"I think that started to change with the Lowardian incident. First it was the videos on the internet. Now there's over a hundred fan sites on MyFace, alone. I understand they're pulling down fifty thousand hits every day."

"Wow," Monique said. "If it's like this here, can you imagine what it would be like over at Kim's if she was ready to receive visitors?"

RSVP

The Possible house was eerily quiet. The only sound was the mechanical click-clack of Agent Du's Beretta as the redheaded teen popped the magazine to check the ammo. Pocketing the gun, she bent down and retrieved his car keys from his pocket.

She paused for a moment, glancing at the door and looking up at the stairway. Anne Possible was the only other living person in the house. Exhausted and medicated, she would probably sleep right through her own murder. Still, Mastermind had said something about taking her off the list for now—though she hadn't been very enthusiastic about the change in her directives. Perhaps Mastermind wouldn't be that upset if she were to stick to the original plan…

She shrugged, pocketing the gun. If so, Anne Possible was a secondary project—not her primary target. Time was of the essence and the variables weren't worth the risk. If she was successful, she could return afterward and time would not be so much of an issue then…

The green-eyed girl slipped out the door with nary a sound.

Back in the kitchen, the pizzas began to grow cold.

RSVP

Bonnie Rockwaller stood in the doorway to the kitchen area and looked across the sea of fellow mourners with mixed emotions.

On the one hand, she was pleased that so many people shared her appreciation and new-found affection for Ron. She was happy that he had such spiritual and emotional support at a time like this.

Still, she couldn't help but feel a little disappointment and jealousy that an evening that had started with such relative intimacy had been party-crashed by so many rivals.

Not a party! she scolded herself.

And "rivals"? For what?

Tara and Monique had just arrived, each rocking their little black dress with generous curves that rivaled her own. While neither had donned a design that was disrespectful to the occasion, both were more stylish than the plain, black number that Bonnie felt was most respectful to spirit and the laws concerning shivah and Shloshim.

Dr. Director was wearing an off one shoulder black dress that stopped just short of being an evening gown, her black eye patch seeming more like a stylish accessory than cover for a disfigurement. Shego wore a black pantsuit with an open collared shirt. The shirt was a dark, dark green that was all but obscured by a pattern of fine black filigree. A choker of jade and black onyx encircled her throat. She had changed since the service at the cemetery.

All of the other cheerleaders had turned up, save for Jessica, Liz, and Kim. Marcella and Hope were pictures of elegance, the Asian girl wearing a black knit with a short skirt and a draped neckline—if it wasn't a Balenciaga, it was a great knockoff. Her best friend was wrapped in a form-fitting bandage dress with a strappy design that showed off her back to great effect. Crystal had slipped into a knee-length pencil skirt that was topped by a strapless silhouette. Even the alternates, Maggie and Linda, had turned up, wearing lace and sheath numbers, respectively.

That nerd, Vivian, however, was the real competition this evening: her dress was little more than an ebony doily, with a sheer, black body stocking underneath. The robot scientist could really slut up her wardrobe half the time but tonight her outfit stopped just short of the line of being inappropriate.

And that Hispanic girl who worked down at the cinema—what was her name? Ziva? Something—she had put together a slacks, shirt, and bolero vest ensemble that might have come off a bit masculine on some women but reinforced her own pixie-like beauty.

Bonnie gave herself a little shake as she realized that she was jellin' again. Unnecessarily since none of the others were talking to or flirting with Ron.

Where had that boy gone to?

RSVP

The car circled the hotel three times before parking on a side street. The redheaded driver that emerged was only half-dressed for the seudat havra'a up on the top floor: her knit top was acceptably black, though its shortened hem barely covered the underswell of her breasts. The tan cargo pants and the naked expanse of flesh in-between would be an affront to the social conventions that she was about to invade.

But not as much of an affront as the nine millimeter in her pocket and the bloody butcher knife tucked into her belt against her back. As she approached the hotel at an angle that would conceal her from the outside security cameras, she raised her signature grappling gun and began to sight it toward an upper story balcony.

It appeared that Kim Possible, the girl who could do anything, was about to do the unthinkable…


ABOUT THE TITLE: The title of the chapter, "Mourning Becomes Electric," is a play on words (as most of my titles are). In this case it's of the title to the Eugene O'Neil play, "Mourning Becomes Electra."


Authors/Notes:

(2/24/12) I don't know if the website is screwing up the reports or people are coming back every few days and just skipping to the last chapter. Here are the Visitor Numbers (not Hits but bonified individuals) for the last four reposted chapters as of today:

Chapter 26 - 83

Chapter 27 - 15

Chapter 28 - 8

Chapter 29 - 25

The numbers suggest that readers are assuming that there's only one new chapter since they last checked in, when actually there may be two, three, or even more...


REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 29

EnterpriseCV-6 7/28/11 . chapter 29

why is Kim about to possibly murder some people?

Keep reading: all will be made clear as time goes on and the chapters unfold. Just remember (this goes for all of my readers) most of everyone's earlier assumptions will turn out to be wrong. R~13


Pavelius 7/28/11 . chapter 29

Man... you ARE evil... killing the background-people left and right without hesitation...

Poor Will Du didnt even had a chance against a brainwashed Kim... lets see how many of Rons potential girlfriend she will take out...

Keep it up

Pavel

Keep reading: more will be made clear soon…ish. R~13


Burner 7/28/11 . chapter 29

Sorry to tell you this but you have to stop doing it, your fic it's just making circles of itself or you write more in lenghty to show more history and substance or define well where the hell are you going with this, seriously man have you planned the history?

In 29 chapters have happenned 4 or 5 five things in history your villain have no substance, and everithyn bad that has happened holds no meaning escept your sadism with the characters.

I hear you, Burner. Sometimes a story doesn't work for every reader the same way. It does seem darker than necessary. It may even seem aimless and sadistic at times. But there really is a plan in all of this and things will turn out better than you think (at this point).

Always a tricky business when addressing one's critics, one can either come off as too defensive or unable to take constructive feedback. I hope that's not the case here as I feel that I am getting some helpful course corrections in the process and getting to know some of the audience better, as well.

One problem I think I have with some of my readers is the "perceived" length of the story.

I was very upfront in the story description in saying that this was going to be "Epic and Roncentric." In other words, it was going to be a large work. And twenty-nine chapters may seem long at first glance but in relative terms, it really isn't. Let's do the math…

I was "nudged" way back when for turning in relatively short chapters/installments. For example: at the end of Chapter 29, RSVP was 109,930 words (123,318 as of 12/10/12 with the expanded reposts)—a bit longer than many of the stories here but, by no means, anywhere near a record holder. As I write this, another epic tale, "In There, Out Here" has posted 30 chapters (one more than mine) yet has a listed word count of 267,179—well over twice my word count. It's a great story (so far) and I make no other comparisons to it other than to point out how the number of chapters is not necessarily indicative of the story's actual (vs. perceived) length. Another story, "Stoppable Rules," currently has a word count of 93,658 (about 16,000 words less than mine) but is only broken down into 10 chapters at this point—in other words, one of his chapters equals about three of mine.

In fact, working in Microsoft Word, my chapters average around 10 to 13 pages in length and that includes Author's Notes, Previous Chapter Review responses, and Legal Disclaimers so my chapters are deceptively short.

I've often wished that I could go back and combine some of my chapters so that they would be fewer and longer—but that would muck up the chapter referencing for the already posted reader reviews.

That being said, I do realize that more than a few of you are anxious for me to "get on with it" (as they say in Monty Python). Believe it or not, I've been trying but I already feel like I've been short-cutting the character development and the back stories. As Motor Ed would say, Seriously: If you want to read a "Kim and Ron have a misunderstanding/problem, fix it, and end up happily ever after, in just 30,000 words or less," there are plenty of those stories here, already. Not that there is anything necessarily wrong with that kind of story but that's not what I wanted to write.

The difference between a novel and a short story (or a miniseries and a half hour TV show) is that you have more time and more room to develop the characters and the background whereas too much back-to-back action is just exhausting and rather blurry—for the reader, never mind the writer—if it's kept up in the long format.

Here's the good news—and the bad—for some of you. I'm finally at the point in the story where I had hoped to be a couple of months ago. From my point of view, at least, it's going to get more interesting (by my lights any way).

But, if RSVP was a four-part miniseries, it would only be Monday night at this point.

Besides, Mastermind has yet to be unmasked. That has to happen before the really scary and most dangerous villain of all shows up to give everyone the battle of their lives!

And sadistic? Hmmmm…I guess it appears to be a bit dark—though you may be surprised before things get wrapped up that it may not be as dark as you've been led to believe. In fact, there will come a dawn, eventually, and then a glorious sunrise that no one can see or believe at this point…

But it's going to get a bit darker, first. And remember that you were warned at the beginning: Rated "M" for adult themes and character deaths. A final warning to everyone: beware of assuming too much, too soon. ;-) It WILL get better for the people that most of us care about. But it has to get worse, first… R~13


Sentinel103 2/23/12 . chapter 29

OK I stand corrected Rippy, this is where some more hayhem starts. Now I wonder if this is real brainwashed Kim or psychotic murderess synthodrone Kim...hold on wasn't Wille Boy a member of Master Mind's consortium?

Oh well you can't make and omelet you know.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

Actually it wasn't the real Will Du reporting back to Mastermind earlier in the story but Camille Leon posing as Agent Du to get inside GJ and pass intel along to the masked villain. (But, yes, it was the real Will Du annoying Dr. Porter over in Japan.) R~13


Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 29

Ron is both the luckiest and un- luckiest person ever.

Word. R~13


BartWLewis chapter 29 . 7/15/14

Wasn't Kim still on an airplane? Unless that Kim that was at the funeral is that Chamellion chick or one of those robot things like Eric was.

I wonder how people will react when they find out that Ron was married and was expecting a child? I'm sure all the ladies will be shocked by that.

I feel very strongly that the Kim who is about to crash the part is not the real Kim.

Shhhhhhh! Don't spoil it for the new readers... R~13


cabrera1234chapter 29 . 7/15/14

what happen to kim was she brainwash by mastermind?

Well...yes...and no...you'll see...eventually... R~13


sakura89luischapter 29 . 7/15/14

this story is fantastic. i hope that ron soon starts to make a move against his opponent. please make it into a harem.

I'm glad you're still onboard, man. Ron will have many opponents before we're done and he won't battle alone. Now, about this harem thing: any advice? R~13


Ken106348 chapter 29 . 7/15/14

Another great chapter. I can't wait for the next

Neither can I...so here you go: "Order up!" R~13