Ron's Groovy Sitch
By:Senaraft
Chapter Two
Disclaimer: I do not own the right to the characters of Kim Possible as they belong to Disney.
This chapter will feature some mild drug references. It was the 70s, boys and girls. What would you expect?
It felt as though he was trapped in a large wind tunnel. This roar of sound around him was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted it to stop. He would give anything for it all to just stop. Then, as though someone had been listening to his brain, Ron slammed into something hard. He could taste blood in his mouth.
He was laying sprawled on his back, somewhere.
Ron opened his eyes, slowly. He was looking up at a crystal clear, bright blue, sky. There did not seem to be a cloud in the sky, from the looks of it. He raised his hand to his mouth and wiped away a trickle of his own blood. A sudden surge of cold air washed over him and he sat bolt up right peering around at his surrounds. Snow littered the ground in great white heaps. Wherever he was now, it was obviously winter. He shivered slightly as he tried to get to his feet. His legs did not seem to want to work properly. He had been wearing his usual jeans and shirt when the accident had occurred.
The accident!
Ron spun around on his heels.
Everything was slowly starting to come back to him.
He let out a sigh of despair. It had been he, Ron's fault. The coffee mug he had knocked out of one of the laboratory technicians hands accidentally had triggered everything. If Dr. James Timothy Possible had not wanted to jettison him into a black-hole before, he was quite sure he would now. Then Kim's face swam into his minds eye. He hoped she was alright. He also knew that if anyone would get him out of the mess he had just landed himself into, it would be her, with a little help from Wade, no doubt.
The cold air swirling around him sent another chill down the back of his neck. He was going to need to change soon, or he would freeze to death. Once he was somewhere a little less cold he would need to find out just where he was and figure out some kind of plan.
He was about to start looking around for any sign of the Sloth when a sharp voice cut through the air like a bullwhip.
"Stop right there!"
Ron froze.
He knew that voice.
"Put your hands into the air now, and walk back to me, slowly."
Ron did as he was instructed. Within seconds he could feel the cold steel of handcuffs being applied. Then he was turned roughly around to face the newcomer. His eyes grew wide as he looked up into the face of Steve Barkin. The Mr. Barkin standing in front of him wore a scowl that Ron was all too familiar with. He was wearing a light blue buttondown that was tucked neatly into his trousers. Over the buttondown, he wore a thick brown jacket with a shiny badge pinned to his chest. Ron could make out the words Middleton Sheriffs Department emblazoned upon it. It shined brightly in the sunlight.
"Look, Mr. Barkin, this is just some big misunderstanding. If you let me give Kim a call—" began Ron, but Mr. Barkin overrode him.
"Have we met before?" asked Mr. Barkin in a suspicious tone.
"It's me, Ron Stoppable. I'm one of your students at—"
Again Mr. Barkin cut him off.
"Do you mind explaining to me what in the world you are doing here, sonny?" This here is private property, and it is most certainly off limits to air heads your age." said Mr. Barkin.
"Air heads?" said Ron, sounding confused.
"The boys and I down at the station are always getting calls about you knuckle heads sneaking up her win the middle of the night to light up. Why some chump like you thought it was a smart idea to give it a go in broad daylight without any means of keeping yourself warm is a mystery to me." said Mr. Barkin.
"Light up? Look, Mr. B, I have no idea what you are talking about. Kim and I come up here all the time to—"
"You can zip it with whatever it is you and your chick get up to unsupervised." said Mr. Barkin in a grave voice.
"Her father works for the Space Center. And she isn't my chick." said Ron trying his best to talk over Mr. Barkin.
"Works here?"
It was now Mr. Barkin's turn to look confused.
"All that grass you've been smoking must be giving you the spins. They just broke ground on the space center a few weeks ago. It will not be finished for quite some time." said Mr. Barkin, shrewdly.
Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Not finished yet?" he asked.
"Don't be a bunny, that is what I just said, isn't it?" barked Mr. Barkin.
"What do you mean? What day is it?" asked Ron.
Mr. Barkin seemed to think that Ron was trying to be funny. He gave Ron a little shake.
"It is January 18th." said Mr. Barkin.
"And the year?" asked Ron as fear leaped at his insides.
"1977. Seriously, you need to drop those doobies like a bad habit." said Mr. Barkin.
Ron's insides began to squirm uncomfortably. It felt as though a large ice cube had slipped down into his stomach. His legs seemed to not want to support his weight. He was finding it difficult to stand still. If what Mr. Barkin had said was true, then he, Ron, had just traveled almost thirty years into the past. And that would mean that —
"Wait a minute. If it really is 1977, then you're not Mr. Barkin. You can't be." said Ron in an accusatory tone of voice.
Mr. Barkin's eyes narrowed.
"Son, I can assure you that I am." he said, fingering at the badge pinned to his chest.
Sure enough the words Sheriff Barkin flashed across the badge.
"But how is that even possible? You're a substitute teacher at Middleton High School. When did you become a law enforcement officer?" asked Ron, who was starting to sound hysterical.
Barkin's face changed. He looked as though he thought Ron was completely out of his mind.
"Look, son. I have never been a substitute teacher. I have been a sheriff for this county longer that you have been alive." said Mr. Barkin.
"Yes, you have. You're Steve Barkin. You're one of my teachers!" said Ron loudly.
"Steve Barkin is my son. You mind telling how my son would know some drug addled troublemaker such as yourself?" said Mr. Barkin slowly.
He sounded angry.
"Wait, you're not Steve Barkin?" said Ron.
His head began to win again like a heat haze.
"I am Sheriff Franklin Barkin, Steve's father. He is currently off at military school and has been for some time. How do you know my son? Did the two of you go to school together or something. It's hanging out with the likes of delinquents that found him needing to attend military school in the first place!" said Franklin Barkin angrily.
"Uh, no — I mean, yes. Yes, we did. We both went to school together. He sat behind me in world history." said Ron, inventing wildly.
Franklin Barkin looked at Ron for a moment before he spoke.
"I am going to need to see your license, kid. Do you have any identification on you?" he said.
Ron nodded.
"My wallet is in my back pocket." he said.
"Sir." he added, trying to be polite to the officer.
Barkin turned him around and reached into his back pocket and extracted his wallet. Franklin rummaged through the wallet and pulled out a small plastic card.
"Is this your driver's license?" he asked.
"Yes, sir." said Ron.
Then he realized all too soon what was about to transpire. Barkin was going to look at his driver's license and it was only going to take a few seconds to realize something was up. Ron's date of birth was some thirty years in the future. He gulped, waiting for the bomb to drop. Barkin examined the card back to front and then looked back at Ron, his eyes narrowed.
"This is your driver's license?" he asked again, sounding suspicious.
"Yes, sir."
"So, your name is Timothy North?"
"I — uh, what?" said Ron.
"Are you, or are you not, Timothy North?" barked Barkin, holding out the piece of plastic for Ron to see.
Ron looked at the card in Barkin's hand and felt his knees wobble. Barkin was not holding out his driver's license. It was the Fearless Ferret Identification card that Ron had accidentally given to Monica when he and Kim had first arrived at Middleton Space Center. Sure it had a picture on it, though it was a terrible one at that. There was no way Barkin was going to fall for that.
"Uh, yeah, that's me, Mr. B. Good 'ol Timothy North." stammered Ron with a weak grin.
There was a long pause before Barkin spoke again.
"Alright, well, you are coming back to the station with me. We are going to have a few questions we would like to ask you, Timothy North." said Barkin gruffly as he grabbed Ron by the shoulder and frog marched him towards his patrol car parked a little ways away. From the looks of it, the Sloth had gone completely unnoticed. In Ron's opinion this was a good thing. It meant awkward questions would not need to be answered just yet.
Barkin pushed past Ron and opened the car door.
"In you get." said Barkin.
Ron did as he was told, climbing into the backseat has best he could with his hands cuffed behind his back. He had to admit to himself that it was at least a tad bit warmer inside the car. Ron peered around at the inside of the police cruiser. It smelled like stale tobacco. Franklin Barkin pulled open the driver side car door and climbed in while reaching for a pair of gun glasses that he had obviously left up on the dashboard. He then leaned over and picked up his mic from his police radio.
"Station, this is Sheriff Barkin. I have picked up another kid up by the construction site. I am bringing him back to the station, over." said Barkin as he observed Ron through his rear view mirror.
From the backseat all Ron could do was stare at his shoes. He wished he had Kim with him. She would know how to get out of this mess, she always did. Ron gave his head a shake as if trying to scare off an irksome fly. What was he thinking? Kim was hopefully safe back in the present. While he was scared and worried about being stuck in such a mess, the only thing that mattered was that Kim was safe. Poor Kim. Ron rested his head against the car window and his mind wondered, wondering what she was going through. Nobody back in the present would have any idea if he was alive and well, or as well as he could be in this situation.
It was then that he could feel something in his back pocket other than his wallet. Suddenly, Ron remembered. The Kimmunicator. It had been in his back pocket during the accident. He was very lucky that Barkin had not asked him to pull everything out of his pockets. He was quite sure he would not have been able to explain away the Kimmunicator. He was positive that in the current time period, the device would outstrip just about everything else on the planet. Ron gave a soft sigh of relief. At least he knew he had a way of getting in touch with Kim, he hoped.
Covering up the Kimmunicator would be one thing. If someone found the Sloth while he was—
The Sloth!
Ron's head whipped around in his seat to took out the back window of the patrol car. What would happen if someone found it, or worse, tinkered with it and some how sent it back to the present. If that were to happen he would be trapped here forever. By the time he would be able to see Kim again he would be well into his forties. Ron laughed a little against his will. He couldn't help himself. What would Kim say if her best friend in the world was now almost the same age as both her parents?
Her parents.
If he really was in Middleton then that would mean that both James and Anne Possible were somewhere around there too. Maybe they could help him out some how. He made a mental note to try and track them both down when he had the opportunity.
"Um, Mr. Barkin?" Ron asked.
"What?"
"What's going to happen — to — uh, my car?"
Barkin looked at him again through the rear view mirror.
"If there is a car up there I will have someone from the sheriff's office send a tow truck to collect it. Once we get you sorted out down at the station you can pick it up at the lot." said Barkin.
Ron groaned.
That sounded like it would cost him a bit of money. Ron had some cash in his wallet, he knew. It was the cash he was planning to spend to buy Zombie Mayhem. He wasn't sure that was going to be enough to get his car out of an impound lot.
At the bottom of the hill, Ron was able to make out the main road ahead. The police cruiser pulled out and turned left. A large white billboard had been put up along the side of the road, and as they passed it, Ron was able to read what it said.
Look to the future!
Future site of the Middleton Space Center
Currently under construction
PRIVATE PROPERTY
Ron swallowed hard. How much trouble had he gotten himself into by being caught up there by Barkin?
"So, Tim, if that is indeed your real name. Do you have anyone that can pick you up once we finish up at the station?" asked Barkin.
"Well, uh," began Ron, trying to think of a good cover story on the fly.
Barkin raised an eyebrow at him.
"Well, you see, my parents are out of town for a week. It's just me at home." said Ron.
"When we get back to the station we will need to run your finger prints and figure out what to do from there. We will probably want to sit you down and run some questions by you. Just keep your nose clean and you might be able to head home soon. If we see that you have a clean record, I'll let you off with a warning, this time. I have never seen you up there before so I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say you're a good kid." grumbled Barkin.
"Thank you, sir." said Ron, even though his heart sank a little bit further.
"Lieutenant Barkin, this is the station. Over" crackled a voice over the CB radio on Barkin's dashboard.
Barkin picked up his walkie receiver.
"This is Lieutenant Barkin. Over" answered Barkin.
"Sir, there is a Harold Director here to see you when you get back to the station. He is currently waiting in your office. Over." came the voice over the radio.
Ron could see that Barkin was sporting a rather confused look on his face.
"And just who in the hell is this person? Over." asked Barkin rather rudely.
There was a brief moment of silence before the voice spoke over the radio again.
"He said his name is Harold Director. He has papers and documents claiming that we are to turn the boy in your police cruiser over to them as soon as you reach the station. Over." said the voice.
Barkin snorted.
"And under who's jurisdiction, I ask you?" yelled Barkin, forgetting to say, over, which would let the latter know that he was done talking.
"He said his, sir. Over"
The voice on the radio sounded some what nervous and off-putting.
"Well, you just tell this Harold person that he can talk to me directly about this boy when we arrive at the station! Over and out!" yelled Lieutenant Barkin in a furious voice, slamming the receiver down and glaring at Ron through the rear view mirror.
Ron could seem vein throbbing in Barkin's neck.
"Do you know this Harold?" asked Barkin.
"Um, no, sir." said Ron.
"You sure that you're not wanted by the police, boy?" demanded Barkin.
"No sir!" said Ron doing his best to sound sure of himself.
His eyes suddenly grew wide as his brain began to work at top speed. He suddenly remembered that the current head of Global Justice was Betty Director. Could they some how be related in a way? If they were, Ron's hope that he would find a way out of this horrible mess grew ever o slightly. He began to wonder how this Harold person had found out about him so quickly. The accident had taken place less than an hour ago. That being said, Global Justice was a top-secret worldwide espionage organization. They had ways of figuring things out, Ron thought to himself.
Ron had to admit to himself that all this time travel business was starting to give him a headache.
As they drove through Middleton, Ron peered out the window at all buildings and people they passed. Everyone was dressed so differently. Ron was going to need a change of clothes if he wanted to blend in with the crowd. His eyes suddenly lit up.
"You guys have a Bueno Nacho?!" he blurted out without thinking.
"Kid, we have had that Bueno Nacho for almost ten years." said Barkin suspiciously.
"Right." said Ron.
"Are you sure you're not from out of town?" asked Barkin.
"No, sir. I guess I don't get out much." said Ron with a nervous laugh.
A few minutes later they had pulled into the Middleton Police Station. Another officer was waiting outside the front doors for them. Barkin pulled the police cruiser into an empty parking spot and turned to face Ron.
"Alright, you're to come inside with me and sit with one of the other officers while I talk to this Harold person in my office, and figure things out." said Barking, turning back around and opening the car door.
Barkin walked over and opened the car door for Ron, allowing him to shimmy out as best he could with his hands still cuffed behind his back. Once Ron was out and on his feet, Barkin frog marched him up the steps and inside, the fellow officer talking to Barkin as they went.
"He arrived at the station about twenty minutes ago, sir." began the officer.
Ron had never been inside the police station before. There were a few office desks dotted around the room where some of the other officers sat conversing with each other, and what looked like a haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air like battle fumes. Ron assumed that smoking as a lot more common in this day and age.
"Alright, you can sit over here. Reiger will keep an eye on you while I am in my office." said Barkin, pointing to an empty chair.
Ron did as he was told and took a seat, noting how uncomfortable it was.
Barkin turned and was almost to his office door when it flew open.
"You must be Lieutenant Barkin. A pleasure to meet you." said a voice from inside the room.
Out walked a man that Ron could only assume was Harold Director. Ron noticed that this man to sported an eye patch similar to Dr. Director, the only difference being that this man's eye patch covered his left eye instead of his right one. He was tall and muscular with dark brown hair. He also had a scrubby brown beard that he seemed to keep well-groomed. He walked up to Franklin Barkin and stuck out a hand. The newcomer seemed to be a few inches taller than Barkin.
Barkin did not immediately reciprocate the handshake. He glowered up at Harold with a defiant look on his face for a brief moment before extending his own hand.
"That would be correct. I am guessing that you are Harold Director?" asked Barkin, stiffly, shaking the letters hand in a firm handshake.
"You would be quite right, my good man. I am sure you know why I am here? We have come to take the boy you just brought in off your hands." said Harold.
"And just why should I do that?" asked Barkin.
"Well, I work for a company that has been overseeing the construction of the site where he was picked up. With the tight security surrounding the area we have some questions of our own that we want to ask him." said Harold.
"Some of your own questions? Why do you need to integrate him?" asked Barkin.
"That's my own business." said Harold, cooly, but still managing to keep a calm face.
"So I am just supposed to release the boy to you because you said so?" said Barkin through gritted teeth.
Behind his desk, the deputy named Reiger let out a snort of laughter that he tried to play off as a cough.
Ron fidgeted in his chair. He was watching the two men standing before him as though he was watching a tennis match, his head turning one way, then the other.
"Yes, you are." replied Harold, as he rummaged around in his coat pocket.
Seconds later he pulled out a badge even larger than the one pinned to Barkin's jacket.
"Well you see, this right here is what some of the boys down at our office like to call an I can do what I want and get away with it, badge." said Harold, flashing the badge in Barkin's face before stowing it back into his coat pocket.
"And just who is it that you work for?" said Barkin, his eyes flashing dangerously.
"I work for an origination known to the world as Global Justice. We deal with matters all over the globe, and right now we are attending to one right here in Middleton with the construction of this state of the art space center. When it is finished, as I am sure you know it will be one of the leading facilities in both space exploration and scientific research." explain Harold.
Barkin did not speak. He had heard of Global Justice before during his years in the military. He knew they were similar to the CIA, carrying out missions and tasks deemed too dangerous for your usual man. When the world needed saving, Global Justice was ready to storm the gates and get the job done.
The knot in Ron's stomach seemed to loosen slightly at Harold's words. His hunch had been correct after all.
"And just what does Global Justice want with this boy?" asked Barkin, jabbing a finger in Ron's direction
"As I said before, we have a few questions to ask him about what he was doing on such heavy guarded private property." said Harold.
"You get kids up there all time time. They sneak up there to smoke grass, and lord knows what else." said Barkin.
"If you need to look over any paper work I have brought with me about the transfer of the boy into our custody, I have left a stack on your desk." said Harold.
For what seemed like forever, Barkin stood rooted to the spot. Ron half expected him to reply with a boastful no, that he would need to see more identification and paperwork that what Harold had provided him. It was then, that in the silence, that Ron's heart slowly began to sink again, that Barkin acted. His eyes were still narrow slits of anger as he walked over to Ron and motioned for him to stand. Ron did as he was told while Barkin fished a pair of keys from his belt loop and took off the cuffs binding Ron's hands together. Ron rubbed his wrists where they had dug into his flesh.
"Thanks, Mr. B." said Ron.
'That feels loads better."
Ron took the glowering look that Barkin was now giving him as his cue to make his way towards the double doors out of the station.
"Excellent." said Harold, clapping his hands together.
He waved cheerfully to Franklin Barkin and then turned on his feels to follow Ron out of the station.
"Come now, Ron." said Harold, placing a firm hand on Ron's shoulders and steering him through the constant haze of cigarette smoke and out of the station.
Barkin watched as the doors closed behind him before turning to the deputy to which Ron had been sitting by.
"Reiger, I want you to keep an eye on that boy as best you can. There is something funny going on here if Global Justice is trying to hush it all up." said Barkin.
The man behind the desk, who looked to be in his early twenties, pushed back his red hair to look up at Barkin
"You got it, boss."
Once they were outside, and out of earshot of any Middleton police officers, Ron began to stammer his thanks to the stranger. He was so thrilled to be out of such a pickle that he did not even notice the bitter cold whipping at his ears again.
"Um — Mr. Director?"
Harold turned towards Ron.
"Call me Harold."
"Sure, uh, Harold. Aside from getting me out of that mess back there, how did you know I was there in the first place." asked Ron with a quizzical look on his face.
Harold made a shushing noise and put his finger to his lips.
"Not here, my young man. You will know everything soon enough, I assure you.
"But the Sloth!" said Ron, unable to contain himself.
"Do not worry. We have already seen to it that it has been relocated before Middleton police and the obscenest Franklin Barkin could get their hands on it. As I have said before, we will discuss everything once we have reached a secure location. This is not something that should be spoken about with prying ears about." said Harold.
Both man, and boy walked a few more blocks. Ron was still in awe with his surroundings. He had no idea where he was being taken. He could only guess that it was some top-secret Global Justice facility. It was as they passed First Middleton Bank that Harold grabbed Ron around the elbow and led him down a side street.
"This way." said Harold, importantly.
Harold led Ron to what appeared to be nothing more than an old dumpster that was over flowing with trash bags. Ron noticed that it was heavily covered in graffiti.
"Alright, in we get." said Harold.
"Excuse me? You can't be serious." said Ron, perplexed.
"It is perfectly alright, I assure you." said Harold, leaning forward to press his palm against the side of the dumpster.
There was a loud popping noise that made Ron jump. A small portion of the duper had shifted aside to reveal a handprint scanner. Ron noticed the letters GJ stamped above it. Harold pressed his hand to the scanner and with another loud hissing noise, the dumpster seemed to split in two, revealing a small hole in the ground just large enough for them to fit in.
"In you get. In you get!" said Harold, giving Ron a swift push between the shoulder blades.
Ron let out an audible scream as he tumbled forward into darkness. He felt as though he was sliding through a large metal tube that was pulling him onward. He had only a few seconds to wonder where on earth it was taking him when the tunnel dipped downward and he shot forward like a speeding bullet. He felt grateful that all he had eaten that morning was a bowl of cereal. He felt as if he might be sick, had he eaten anything else that day. He began to wonder just how long he was going to be slipping and sliding around when the shoot began to level out. He slide out into a brightly lit room.
"Hello." came a voice as he got to his feet, his knees shaking as if they might not support his weight.
A tall woman in a skin-tight black suit was standing before him.
"Move aside, please." she said, kindly.
Ron did as he was told and within seconds Harold had shot out and was on his feet standing right behind Ron.
"Hello Dr. Director." said the woman, nodding towards Harold.
"Hello, Agent S. Any news?" asked Harold as they set off at a brisk walk down the hallway and through a set of doors at the opposite end. Ron followed.
"No sir." said the woman.
Ron's mouth fell open as he trotted along behind the two adults and into a new, much larger room filled with people. They were all busy at work behind large bulky computers. At one end of the room was an even larger screen with what looked like every continent of the world on it. Lights flashed on different parts of the world, while messages ran along the bottom of the screen.
"I am sure everything looks a tad outdated to you, son." said Harold over his shoulder to Ron.
"Yes, but — wait a minute. How did you know that? Did you put probes in my mind, or something" asked Ron stopping dead in his tracks.
"You totally probed my mind, didn't you."
Harold stopped and turned towards the blonde haired boy.
"No, we did not probe your mind." said Harold surprising a laugh.
"Well then—" began Ron.
"I would, however, like to know your name." said Harold.
"Um — I'm Ron, sir. Ron Stoppable."
Harold motioned for Ron to follow him. He led the way out of the large computer filled room and into another hallway. They soon entered another much smaller room with just a desk and a few chairs occupying it. Harold pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. Ron figured that he should do the same.
"Well, if any new messages pop up for me will you bring them along, Agent S?" asked Harold, turning back to the tall woman.
"Yes, sir." she said before leaving the room.
"It is nice to meet you, Ron Stoppable. I am Harold Dir—"
'"I know who you are, sir." said Ron cutting across him.
"I know you work for Global Justice. My friend Kim and I have helped you guys out before. Well, in the future we have. This time-traveling thing is a bit confusing." said Ron.
"Your time-traveling escapade is the reason why I had to go collect you. We cannot risk you accidentally altering the future by changing the past. I have a team of GJ operatives working as we speak to get this, Sloth, as you call it, back up and running. The sooner we get you back to whatever year you came from the better." explained Harold.
"Yeah, I really don't want to be stuck here. How did you even know that I was here?" asked Ron.
"We received a huge energy spike when you arrived at the Middleton Space Center construction site. I had sent a few operatives to pick you up, but as you saw back there, Barkin beat us to you." said Harold.
Ron frowned.
"From the looks of it, the energy cells in your Sloth have been greatly depleted. We currently do not have the ability to generate such sheer, raw power that would be needed to send you back to the future. The only thing that we have been able to come up with would be something like a bolt of lightening striking your Sloth. The chances of that must be one in a million though. I can assure you that we are making this a top priority." said Harold.
Ron's face fell ever so slightly. Then something he had heard Kim's dad mention came floating to his brain.
"Before I got here, Kim's dad had said something about lightening striking a scoreboard at a football game at Upperton University. I think he said it had been a championship game or something." said Ron.
A broad grin spread across Harold's face.
"My dear boy, you might be onto something here! We cannot keep you here forever!" he said joyfully.
Then, it seemed all of a sudden as though the happiness that had started to well up inside Harold had gotten a puncture.
"What is it?" asked Ron, worried.
"Well, Upperton University has been to the Nation Championship for the past two years. They lost both games of course. The dates of those games were not until mid-June, right before school was wrapped up. If we do intend to go about this route you will be here for quite some time." said Harold sadly.
"Mid June? That's, like, five whole months! yelled Ron in indignation.
How on earth was he going to last five months in a completely different time period then what he was used to? How would he blend in?
"This is heavy." said Ron burying his face in his hands.
"You look hungry." said Harold, speaking up.
"When did you last eat?"
"Almost thirty years from now." said Ron.
He laughed weakly.
"Well, there is nothing that we can do at the moment. I have a place where you can stay for the time being. If we are going to have to wait for mother nature to strike it might be best to keep you near the University. Global Justice will arrange for some on-campus housing, and you can stay there while we sort this out. We will get you a spare change of clothes before you go. It's much too cold outside to be dressed the way you currently are. Not to mention, you stick out like a swore thumb." said Harold.
"I could go for some Bueno Nacho." said Ron.
"That settles the matter." said Harold.
"We will contact you later this afternoon, and get you settled in." said Harold.
"You might be able to contact me through this." began Ron, pulling the Kimmunicator out of his back pocket.
"Kim would use it when we were on missions." finished Ron.
Harold looked at the device in Ron's hand.
"I am sure I can have that arranged." said Harold, who seemed fascinated by the device.
"Alright, let's get you those clothes."
Twenty minutes, and one wild tube ride later, Ron found himself standing in the bright sunlight outside Bueno Nacho. The freezing air was still attempting to attack his face but, by adjusting his scarf he was able to keep the cold at bay until he was in the warmth of the fast-food restaurant. Everything Harold Director was still swarming around his brain like angry bees. The Global Justice director had told him that he would contact him later that day to discuss what they were doing to do about the predicament that Ron currently found himself in.
"We cannot keep you here forever!"
Ron would worry about that when the time came. Right now all he wanted was some food, and a way to let Kim know that he was safe from harm for the time being. Ron looked around the restaurant as he approached the counter. He was a bit surprised to see that it looked almost exactly the same as it did in the present. Everything from the booths to the menu behind the counter looked just as it had the last time he had dined in with Kim some thirty years in the future, though they did look a bit newer. There were a few people here and there throughout the restaurant. Ron could tell they were college kids a few years older than he was.
He reached the front counter and placed his order. Harold had given him some money as the bills that had been in his wallet during the accident would have brought up awkward questions and unwanted attention.
While Ron waited for his order number to be called he took a seat in one of the empty booths and looked around some more. A few feet away in a booth across from his own sat a group of people. It was a bit bizarre to see people dressed so differently than what he was custom too. This group seemed to be gossiping away happily about something. One of the girls wore a pair of high waisted bell jeans, while a boy next to her sported a thick gold chain and large glasses. Ron noticed that the boy's hair was almost longer than the girl he was sitting next to.
Ron sat and wondered how Rufus and the rest of his family would take the news of what had happened.
"Order up!" came a woman's voice from behind the counter.
Ron collected his food and went back to his lone booth. There was another group of college kids sitting in the booth behind his. He noticed as he took his seat that they were all dressed completely different than that of the group sitting a few feet away. Their clothing hit the eye like fireworks. They looked very out of place with their grungy attire and wild hair styles. The '80s were just around the corner, Ron guessed.
Ron sat down and ate, gratefully. The shock of landing himself in 1977 had started to wear off slightly, A belly full of Bueno Nacho could only lift his spirts. Ron glanced over at the group sitting behind him. None of them paid him the slightest attention which was lucky. It was hard not to stare. A girl with messy, flaming red hair, that looked as though she could have been Kim's older sister was wearing a thick, black, leather jacket over a t-shirt of some band Ron was not too familiar with. It looked as though the jacket had been artistically ripped in places and was adorned with many different patches. She was also wearing a black studded skirt over what seemed to be leggings. Her boots almost crept up to just below her knees. She had thick black eye liner that made her bright blue eyes stand out.
"Right on, Anne!" said a boy at the table, sitting next to her.
"Yeah, personally I don't see what the deal was. My parents can be a bit of a trip." said the red head.
"Far out." said another girl.
"So, are your folks till up in a twist?" asked the boy.
"I am sure they will get off my back once I finish up with my schooling. They still badger me a lot. I'll show them, once I finish up my schooling. They don't think I am cut out to be, like, a doctor, and all that, you know. Being a neurosurgeon sounds wild though doesn't it? You don't see a lot of women in that field of work these days." said the girl.
Ron choked on his nachos.
He turned to crane his neck and look back at the girl. The stranger did have a striking resemblance to Kim. The only difference was the lack of emerald green eyes. But wait— Kim's mom did not have the same eye color as her daughters. They were—
Ron began to cough and hack louder. His eyes bulged as he tried to gasp for air.
"Hey, man. Are you, like, alright?" asked one of the grungy, punk boys who was sitting in the opposite booth.
"I think he is choking." said Anne hurrying to her feet.
She pulled Ron out of the booth and began to preform the Heimlich maneuver on him. Within a few seconds, Ron coughed up the bits of cheese and nacho. He felt dazed, and a little dizzy.
"You okay? Maybe try eating a little slower." she said, a slight grin forming at the edge of her lips.
She placed a hand on Ron's shoulder.
It was scary to see Kim's mother in miniature. Ron guessed that she had to be about the same height as Kim, even of she was a few years older than her daughter. They would look almost identical side by side. Ron tried to speak but he couldn't. This was just too much to deal with on top of everything else that had transpired that morning. His vision began to go slightly hazy. His legs, it seemed, had turned to jelly once more. Ron's eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and everything went black.
:TO BE CONTINUED:
Author's Notes: Well, that wraps up chapter two and Ron has met one of Kim's parents. I am sure we can all agree that nobody would think Anne Possible was once a misfit to society. If you like the story so far, please leave a review. I would love to hear from everyone! Till next time…
Peace Out