Author's Note: Promised a quick follow-up. Here it is. As you may have guessed, 37 & 38 were originally one horrendously long chapter that I broke along theme lines. Oh, and while I was doing the final typing of this, ATCOTS broke the 50,000 hit mark. Do I get an FFN t-shirt for that? NO? Man… this place is cold. As a side note, just went back and fixed ep. 17 after someone pointed out that cell was spelled cel across the board. Doy! It's no secret that I work in the animation biz and the computer I do a lot of the posting from is also the one where I do a lot of the scheduling work, so cel – short for animation cel – is actually the default spelling on that spell checker. I do my own proofing, I miss a lot and I take the blame for it… but that cell/cel thing has been up there for weeks and thousands of hits. Please, if you see anything else like that, let me know via a PM. Beyond that, thanks for reading as always and love the reviews. Ye Old Legal stuff: Kim Possible, Shego, Doctor Director, Big Daddy Brotherson, Monique, Senor Senior Jr., Senor Senior, Sr., Summer Gale, Aviarius, Gill and all other characters borrowed from the wonderful KP Universe are the creations of Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley, and those names are all trademarks of the Disney media organizations. Although use in this context may be considered fair under parody law, just in case: this work was not created for profit, no money changed hands etc. Anna Stein, Cyn Rushing and Peter Laska are original to this document and free for re-use with a nod. Hell-O-Gram is NOT available. Also, this story takes place at a time at which all characters shown should be considered to be over the legal age of 18… except, obviously Wade and the Tweebs.

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AT THE CENTERFOLD OF THE STORM

Chapter 38

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The Hell-O-Gram courier looked up as Senor Senior Sr. came back into the room carrying a grotesque yellow and purple sportsbag. Where had the man been for so long?

"I'm sorry," Senior spoke with great apparent embarrassment. "But Junior seems to have left here unexpectedly as well. Are you sure you can't just deliver the package to me?"

"I'm afraid I can't, sir," the Hell-O-Gram man replied courteously and with a great degree of sympathy. He'd made frequent deliveries to the older Senor Senior and had always felt both well treated and well tipped. His deliveries to Junior had been more furtive, usually in the middle of the night, and the only tip he'd ever received was not to wear yellow shoes with plaid pants. "And if you don't know where he is, I'll just have to wait here until he returns or you do know where he is."

The elderly villain looked at the man's shiny red outfit with its ridiculous pointed tail and horns and sighed. Though he had great respect for the service he provided, he REALLY didn't want the man loitering around his hotels and resorts in that costume. People tended to get a bit upset when they saw the spawn of Satan strolling past the steam baths.

"Would it be alright if I just called you..?"

"Nope, sorry again. The sender checked the box for our 'The Devil Will Wait' option. And no, I can't change clothing either. Against company policy to be on duty without horns."

Senor looked at the man, torn between admiration and vexation. If only Junior had half of the commitment this young demon had. Oh, what a wonderful career in evil they could have! But instead, the fool boy was still obsessed with Hollywood and…

Senior Sr. looked down at the bag he was carrying. The bag with that script and the OTHER thing in it.

For all that he practiced Evil, Senor Senior Sr. was actually a very moral and respectable man. Evil was really a hobby and he found it convenient to retain his ethics. Those, along with the lengthy deathbed recant of all his sins that he'd committed to memory, were his ticket to getting into Heaven when the time came.

But as his hand slid into the open zipper of the bag, his hand found the Attitudinator. Yes, it was unethical and immoral but... it WAS his son.

And when pressed between his son and what was ethical, moral or even logical, he inevitably chose the former. That made him a very good father but ultimately a tragically flawed villain.

So be it.

Removing the device, he aimed it at the obstinate delivery man and pressed the red activate button.

"Don't you really want to just leave that package here and go out to play... uh..." He fumbled for an appropriate suggestion and finally came up with "canasta?"

"Why... Canasta sounds great!" The Devil laughed, looking like he'd just eaten an especially tasty soul. "And maybe some badminton! Yeah, here, take the package! I've got a life to live! Oooo, maybe the signboard museum will be open!" Almost tossing the package at the stunned Senior, the courier went skipping out the door, twirling his pointed tail like girl with a skipping rope.

And with that, Senor Senior Sr. had defeated the Devil.

It rather depressed him that it had been so easy.

But now he had to deal with a more difficult task… figuring out what kind of nonsense Junior had got himself involved in this time.

Opening the box, he found a small silver phone with a postee-note on it, one that read simply: SPEED DIAL 6.

Very well. He'd committed mail theft already today, so why not follow it up with listening to someone else's phone conversations? That was… sort of evil, was it not?

He opened the phone and pressed the number.

"Greetings, Senor Senior Junior," A filtered electronic voice spoke. "Or should I call you the Carribean Slasher? If you don't want your father to know what you've been up to, you need to listen to the rest of this message very carefully. But don't worry, I think you'll find that what I'm going to propose fits in nicely with your current plans. And your father will never need to know about those dead girls in the lagoon."

#####

The one thing the reporters were sure of was that something really big was about to happen. Exactly what, they didn't know, but it almost certainly had something to do with the bizarre news story that had broken yesterday regarding a contract on national heroine Kim Possible. From the amount of amped-up security in evidence everywhere at Global Justice Central Administration, it was obvious that the secretive agency was taking no chances… and for the reporters who'd actually made it in through the security screening, it looked like following up on the enigmatic e-letters sent to the major media combines this morning, promising a 'Briefing on the Current Situation' was going to provide some serious pay dirt. But what? Was Possible already dead? Both Global Rescue and Global Justice had remained ominously silent.

The knowledge that an answer might finally be at hand almost made waiting in the already over-packed and overheating GJ Press room bearable. Almost. Of course, the lack of comfort was directly due to the overzealous press corps themselves, who had turned up in unanticipated numbers. While many simply bitched, the more gracious among them acknowledged that it must have taken a lot of quick improvisation to handle the problems caused by the people who nominally spread information professionally suddenly becoming unable to read the clearly lettered words on the security passes that had been sent to the media giants this morning. Apparently the word and number 'ONE(1)' in mass market journalism now represented one reporter, one to three camera operators and frequently a personal make-up artist as well. What so many of those worthies simply didn't seem to understand was that GJ's secure press facility was small. Really small. In the course of a normal year, Global Justice handled at most a hundred press briefings, usually less; and normally for every 30-40 passes issued, GJ saw 5-7 reporters actually show up, the rest choosing to copy the information from the official press release instead. However, this time, when GJ had sent out 70 passes expecting 70 confirmations, they instead had instead received nearly 250 members of the very massed 'media' at the main gate demanding entrance. After first being directed around to the SECURITY gate, where all visitors were required to check in... as noted on the passes... the great horde joined the ten reporters who had actually shown up in the right place and the entire group was checked for proper credentials and matching copies of the e-invite before being passed through the exterior gate into the isolated security building inside the so-called buffer zone. Once there, the remaining 130 were then checked for weapons and allowed through the inner gate and into the Press Zone waiting area, where at the last second a third pass suddenly targeted all the photographers and camera men with a stern "You can go in, but your equipment can't."

"Sorry guys," The GJ screener in charge had shrugged. "There's going to be evidence shown they don't want public just yet. However, there will be some time set aside for interviews out here afterwards, so you can either stow your gear in the lockers back in the bunker or wait with it out here."

No cameras? Evidence? Now emotions really were escalating. Everyone wanted to get the news first, but anyone who checked their gear would get scooped on the visuals by those who waited. After sixty to eighty quick and furious huddles simultaneously determined which part of which news teams would wait and which would go in... by means as various as seniority, pay level, relationship to the station owners and more than a few frantic games of 'One Potato, Two Potato,' and 'Rock, Paper, Scissors,' the final 86 reporters were allowed into the Press Room, where they just barely fit in alongside with the two dozen armed GJ Troopers in the back of the room, the two GJ Techs who would handle the lights, the audio visual and the small camera that was recording the panel itself for posterity, and the panel group which... judging from the number of chairs set up behind the incredibly thin table in front of the 10 foot video screen, would include five people, all of whom would be on the OTHER side of a series of 6 foot high bullet-proof glass partitions.

And then ANOTHER kicker! The announcement that PDAs, pads, phones with internet and texting, etc., COULD be used to take notes during the panel, BUT the entire room was shielded so heavily that no outside signal could get through. Those who'd thought to check in the outer area, however, knew that it was clear, so there would no doubt be a stampede to get out and transmit as soon as the briefing… whatever it was about… was over.

By this point, the reporters had been stewing in the room for about twenty minutes, and judging by the odor that was starting to build, they were just about cooked.

All eyes snapped forward as a small door behind the bullet-proof screen opened and seven people entered. The press corps let out a collective sigh of relief/aha! as, after the first of two additional GJ Troopers, the second and third individuals in the group were immediately recognizable to just about anyone who'd been living on the planet for the past three years: Shego and Kim Possible… still very obviously very much alive. More than just alive, in fact! Both women were wearing the previously unseen new uniforms of the new Global Rescue organization... and every single member of the press made an immediate note to get their picture/video taken with them after the briefing... holey Jehoshaphat, WERE those uniforms or were they spray paint? Talk about ratings bait! Next up, came the nearly as recognizable Dr. Director, GJ's Head of operations, also decked out in a full cerulean-blue GJ dress uniform that would normally be considered hot stuff, but now looked almost dowdy in comparison. Finally, there were two apparent civilians, an attractive young blond woman in jeans and a red T-shirt with the words 'I'm a Professional, Trust Me. Now Take Off Your Clothes.' printed across the chest in white letters and a tall, brown-haired man in a tailored blue jacket with grey slacks.

It took only seconds for the group to find their seats, the new troopers setting up at either end and effectively becoming standing bookends.

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen of the Media," The one-eyed woman in the center spoke smoothly, her voice picked up and amplified by some kind of hidden microphone. "Our time today is limited, but there WILL be a question and answer period afterwards in addition to the photo and video opportunities after that."

"For those of you who are not aware, I'm Dr. Elizabeth Director, Operational Head Of Global Justice. To my right… your left… are Shego and Kimberly Anne Possible, co-directors of our new affiliate organization, Global Rescue. To my left are Cynthia Rushing and Peter Laska, whose purpose here we'll be explaining momentarily."

"Now, I imagine many of you have questions regarding recent news reports, most stemming from a rather outrageous claim made yesterday by Ms. Summer Gale of WTFN," Betty nodded cooly at the woman sitting in the front row, just three seats from the far right wall of the room and almost directly opposite Kim, who was doing a magnificent job of pretending not to even notice her. Betty still couldn't believe that WTFN had sent Gale, of all people, and as a former felon they could have refused to allow her into the GJ Administrative section where the briefing was to be held, but that would have caused yet another tempest in a teapot. As it was, they'd anticipated this possibility and made sure that it played into their hands. "And part of our purpose in conducting this briefing is to confirm that, to the best of our knowledge, the details of Ms. Gale's story that have been released so far seem to be accurate."

"To be precise, sometime yesterday morning, a ten million dollar bounty for the head of Kim Possible, on a standing contract previously placed by an unknown underworld source, was raised by a multiplier of fifty to half a billion U.S. Dollars."

There was a soft buzz at that as half the reporters in the room made sounds that could have been gasps or sounds of glee, or both, and as one they began entering data on their devices at a furious rate. What were the lyrics in that old song? 'It's interesting when people die?' Dr. Director looked briefly sideways but saw that Kim still appeared as cool as a cucumber.

"In fact, at this point in time, we believe we have now identified no less than FOUR Class A Supervillains that have been specifically contracted to kill Kim Possible." Another buzz, this time of true shock. FOUR? SUPERVILLAINS? Betty blitzed on through the noise and hit the next pertinent point while the iron was hot.

"In addition," She added, "We also believe that Ms. Gale, as a former convicted supervillain herself, may unknowingly be in possession of information leading to the identity of at least two more potential assassins. However, as she is currently withholding both that information and its source, despite the danger engendered to both Ms. Possible and the general public, we cannot confirm that at this time."

Gale flushed a deep purple as the reporters on either side of her slowly slid their butt cheeks to the far sides of the chairs, as if she had just emitted the most odious of farts. Betty smiled as if she had not just essentially said 'we know you know what you know because we know you were approached about doing the hit yourself' and continued on brightly. Everything she had said WAS completely true and completely legal to say. She was surprised to see that there were apparently quite a few reporters who weren't aware that they had a 'supervillain' in their midst... well, besides Shego, but she was reformed. Summer Gale was a much less certain commodity. "It is, of course, our hope that as a conscientious member of the broadcasting community, Ms. Gale will soon reveal more information in a fashion that benefits the greater good."

"That said," Betty continued, "Our main purpose in holding this briefing is to document and explain the events of yesterday afternoon, when the first team of two Super-Assassins was completely neutralized while attempting to make a surprise attack on Ms. Possible on the outskirts of Middleton."

At that point the buzz and typing that had been building in the room instantly escalated into chaos, reporters forgetting that they were supposed to wait and screaming out questions. Kim, Betty and Shego exchanged frustrated glances. Realizing that no one was going to shut up if they didn't get something, Betty pointed at reporter in the second row who stood out by the dual virtues of being someone who had been here before and was NOT waving like a lunatic. Parker Bernstein from the Middleton Monitor.

"Doctor Director!" The man spoke quickly, stunned at having been picked. "Are you saying that Global Justice intercepted these assassins?"

"No sir, I am not. The neutralization was carried out by Ms. Possible herself."

MORE hubbub, typing and shouted questions "What?" "TWO Villains?" "SUPER Villains?" "Dr. Director!" Gah! What part of wait 'til later did these people NOT understand?

"ORDER!" Screamed Shego, firing a bolt of green plasma into the ceiling.

And suddenly there was order.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Betty used her voice of 'patient authority,' though it was perhaps a bit weak on the 'patient' part. "I have told you that there will be time allotted for questions afterwards. In addition, we have a media presentation that will answer many of your questions better than I ever could. So if you will please allow us to proceed...?"

For once, everyone in the room actually listened. They were also all, very discretely, keeping at least one eye on Shego and her still smoldering digits.

"Thank you," Betty smiled. "I refer you once again to Ms. Rushing and Mr. Laska. For those of you unfamiliar with Ms. Rushing's name, she was one of the two videographers who documented Global Rescue's recent operation on the twin volcanic islands of Māhanga Puia. At the time of yesterday's attack, Ms. Rushing and Ms. Possible were shooting a public service video and Ms. Rushing had the rare courage and initiative to continue filming and documenting the entire attack, despite having been incapacitated by one of the supervillains herself in the process."

"At this point, however," Betty looked past the furiously blushing Cyn to Peter. "There are a few points that need to be made about the video you are about to see. Mr. Laska?"

"Yes," Peter smiled with the grace born of a thousand fundraisers. "As Dr. Director has indicated, Ms. Possible had agreed to shoot a video sequence for my organization, and she had recruited Ms. Rushing to be the photographer. What she hasn't explained was the purpose of the video. To be frank, this was intended to be part of a larger body of videos contributed by a large number of celebrities regarding a subject of a sensitive nature, and it wasn't intended to be revealed until the entire collection was completed. Under the circumstances, however, it may be impossible to complete the shoot as intended... so, with Ms. Possible's permission, we've agreed to release the footage PROVIDED that each network or station signs a contract agreeing to show the entire video a requisite number of times. The use of excerpts WILL be allowed, but we do reserve the right to pull the video from broadcasters that we feel have dealt with us in bad faith. That said, as representatives of those stations, we're allowing you to see the same footage that will be offered to your network within the hour."

Questions started to burble forth again, but Peter cut them off quickly with a smile.

"No, no questions now. Save them for afterward. I think the video speaks for itself."

######

Kim looked quickly at Shego as the lights dimmed and the video screen flickered to life; and was relieved to find the green woman's hand waiting below the table, where it quickly grabbed hers in a reassuring squeeze. They were getting ready to play a very complex psychological game and they were using her… and Shego's… life as part of the opening salvo. Because the best way to manipulate the way the media handled one news story was to use another.

The blue screen blacked out, then was replaced by her own image, standing in front of the woods that had seemed so tranquil yesterday morning. There was a peaceful, almost serene look on her features, her calm face hiding more nerves then she'd dared show. She'd been trying to project concern and sincerity. Looking at it now, Kim thought she'd managed concern.

"Hi. I'm Kim Possible," Her image said… it was always weird hearing her own recorded voice. It was so much higher than what she heard in her own head. "And I'm... just your basic average girl. If you've heard anything about me... and there's no reason you should have..."

The reporters tittered at that for some reason. Shego's hand squeeze kept her focused as her on-screen self grinned in self-depreciation.

"…you might have heard that I used to be a cheerleader or that I've done a little modeling. Mostly, though, what I've done is spent a good portion of my life trying to help others and to save the world. It's no big, it's just part of who I am."

"And another part of me," She smiled softly, more seriously, "One that you probably haven't heard about, is that I'm gay."

An audible gasp from 86 throats engulfed the room. Fingers that had been slowly typing exploded in furies of activity. She was out. Out out.

It was as if her screen image actually heard the response in the room. "Whoa. Did I just grow a third eye?"

"Of course not," Her video avatar's smile grew more knowing. "I'm the same person I've always been. In fact, although it took a long time to realize who I was sexually, current scientific research indicates that a person's sexual orientation itself is something that may be set as early as in the womb." Another wry grin. "A bit late to change that now. Nor is it all that unusual... depending on the survey, up to 10% of the U.S. population identifies itself as Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual or Transgendered... that's versus two percent of the population who are natural redheads. And um... yeah, I'm that too. You may have heard."

The typing had never stopped, but now there were one or two laughs at her little reference to the internet blow-ups. Well, hell Possible. Maybe you should start posting your gyn exams next?

"But in the end, so what? Those are just statistics. What's important is how you feel about yourself. Because whatever your sexuality, you're the one who has to live within your own skin, and experience your own life."

The message must be getting through, where this was going, because the typing was dying down. More just listening. Good.

"And if you're a GLBT teen, or think you may be, you may often feel as though you're caught in a crossfire, pressured to do things that don't feel right for you. Personally, I don't think it's anyone's business except yours and your consenting partner's. But let's be honest. There will be those who try to impose their own views and lifestyles on you. From both sides. But it's not their life you're leading, it's yours. And if we agree that telling lies to others is wrong, then isn't telling lies to yourself the greatest lie of all?"

Now she was getting to the meat of the message, and even as the Kim-onscreen grew more serious, the real Kim felt the first twinges of a smile come to her own lips. She hadn't screwed this up.

"I can't tell you how to handle your developing sexual identity, because I'm not you and only you know who you really are. However, as someone who's always been... a little different... I can tell you that simply being different doesn't make you wrong, it just makes you you. And there's nothing wrong with that. You are here for a reason. And you ARE important. Everyone is. Never, ever doubt that. A world without you would be a darker, sadder place."

If there was anyone who hadn't figured out that this was in response to the recent stories about teen suicides, they had put it together now.

"If you are having problems, if you've hit a moment of crisis and need help… have faith in yourself, have faith in your friends and family, and have faith in the higher powers that made you who you are. And if you need someone to talk to… someone from a background similar to yours, someone who's been where you are now, someone who understands, there are networks of people who can help... confidentially. With no strings attached. It's your life we're talking about. Please, make the call."

Yes… that was the message that she wanted to get out. And even if the special never came together, if Peter never found another non-entertainment personality to come forward, the message was about to hit the national airwaves in a bigger way than they could have ever anticipated. But now the real roller coaster began.

As her onscreen persona finished listening to what Peter was saying, was puzzling over the mysterious silence she'd noticed, Aviarius struck.

Now the reporters recoiled and watched in horror as that entire desperate fight unraveled on the screen. Kim couldn't look. It had been too close, too many places where, now that she had time to watch without the benefits of firing adrenaline, she SHOULD have died. And she couldn't let herself seem fazed now. Because everything they were doing, that they were about to do, was designed to push as many buttons as they could, to make whoever was behind this so mad that they'd make rash, unplanned moves in response and expose themselves.

And then, when they knew which son or daughter of a bitch they were after, they were going to take the battle back to them. With interest.

As if she had read her mind, Shego squeezed her hand once more in confirmation, then lifted their joined hands together up onto the narrow desk. Now that Kim was out, that's all the press would need to get the last bit of the story.

The room lights came back on.

And Kim Possible and Shego, united, turned to face the nation.

#####

The reporters were in shock overload. Two major stories, one on top of the other. Which went first? And BY GOD! Their network HAD to have that video! YES! That was the first priority! Get the damn video!

And Holy Cripes! The reality of what they had just seen was only now really sinking in. That hadn't been a movie or a reenactment. They'd literally seen a fight to the death… two of them at once! And the only reason they HADN'T seen a slaying on camera was because Kim Possible had chosen not to commit one. There was no doubt about that. The small redhead sitting in front of them holding… OH DAMN! She was holding SHEGO's hand! Then they were…. Gah! The story kept getting bigger! That wisp of a girl had become a human chainsaw, taking apart two impossibly powerful villains who'd had the twin advantages of weapons AND surprise! And HAD she wanted to take lethal action against them, which she would have been entirely justified in doing, she could have done it easily.

That was a message that especially hit home for one Summer Gale, who alone of all the reporters wasn't typing or making notes or screaming out questions. Because Summer Gale was looking into the eyes of Kim Possible. And she now knew that it didn't matter WHO was behind the death contract or WHAT they might do to her if she talked. Because whoever or whatever they were, they weren't a fraction as scary as the small redhead sitting only feet away from her was… let alone her GIRLFRIEND Shego!

Summer Gale's lips mouthed two words.

"I'll talk."

And Kim Possible smiled a thin, satisfied smile.

Objective one had been met. Things were going exactly as planned. She caught Dr. Director's eye, then Shego's, and there was no need to say a single word. They were ready to play out the next card and the extra aces were already in the deck.

Phase two was go.