Chapter Three
"So, what's the sitch?"
"Could you speak up please?" the policeman called back at Kim over the roar of the snow-cat's engine. They were bouncing along what had been taxiway Juliet - now hidden beneath almost four feet of snow - from their aircraft to the terminal area. Ron sat beside her in the cab of the first of three snow-cats that constituted their welcome party. Next to Kim sat Mark Benning; the airport's police chief, and next to him their driver.
"I said: what's the sitch!" Kim repeated, yelling so the man could hear her. The drivers were really putting the pedal to the metal as they sped across the vast expanses of JFK's taxiway system towards the terminal area. When their ride had finally slid to a halt, it was almost two thousand feet from the nearest terminal building, and the delay in getting the snow-cats to their position was now making every second all the more crucial. Kim knew they didn't have long until Drakken and Shego started killing hostages, and so understood why the driver was really putting the pedal to the metal.
"Dr. Drakken and his partner are still waiting with around thirty hostages in Terminal Two," Benning told them, speaking loud enough for both teenagers to hear. "We've got around twenty minutes now until the deadline."
"What deadline?" Ron asked, practically screaming it in Kim's ear.
"If we don't have a plane fueled up and ready to go outside the terminal by then, they begin executing hostages." Benning pointed to his watch in case Ron misheard him.
"So what do you need us to do?" Kim said as they neared the jumble of parked aircraft surrounding the terminal area.
"We're still not sure," the policeman admitted. "I've got a team back at our operations center still getting the details down on our attack plan."
"Let me guess - we're the surprise attack and everyone else's backup.
"That's the long and short of it," Benning confessed apologetically. "I'm really sorry you two have to do this, and I know we're putting you in some real danger. But frankly, you're the only people who can."
"Why?" Ron asked; a little annoyed that the entire New York police force couldn't handle two criminals.
"Well, the plan is for a team to sneak in through the ventilation system. Once over the criminals, they drop down and deal with Drakken and Shego. Then they bust open the jet-bridge door and the backup team comes rushing in. Problem is the ventilation system is so small no one on the force can fit inside without going in unarmed. Plus, they're nowhere near as well versed as you are on dealing with a man like Drakken," Benning concluded.
"Oh, Drakken's so not a big deal," Kim blew it off nonchalantly. "It's Shego I'm worried about."
"Will you be able to handle her?" a concerned Benning pressed her.
"Sure. It'll be fine," Kim reassured him; "though I would like to at least look at a plan of the building before we storm the place."
"No problem, we've got an operations center set up in the baggage sorting hall," he said, as they passed the first few rows of aircraft parked on overnight stands. "It's got everything you'll need."
"Sounds great," said Kim as she looked out as they passed another row of static airliners. Weaving through those alloyed behemoths, she noticed none of them were occupied; each of their engines covered with plastic sheeting to birds from nesting inside and all doors locked tight. The harsh lighting from towers high above the aircraft gave them an eerie appearance, with their wings creating huge, distorted shadows beneath them and the snow piling on their bodies glimmering in the fierce brightness. It was like a ghost town with everything ground to a standstill by the blizzard, which had yet to depart. Though the sun had only been setting when the first flurries of snow began to arrive in Middleton, Kim could tell this storm had been hanging over the East Coast for the better part of a day. The deep hollows in the snow underneath fuselages and three foot long icicles hanging from noses were a testament to the fact that these planes had not moved for over eight hours.
"Kim, don't you think we need to check with Wade on this one?" Ron asked skeptically.
"I don't think so," she replied. "They've got a pretty good setup here - and what can Wade do that they can't?"
"You've got a point," Ron conceded after a moment of thought.
Suddenly the headlights winked off and the convoy slowed as the snow-cat rounded a corner. Clearly the drivers were trying to go unnoticed as they hugged the red brick walls of one of the terminal buildings, inching past rows of unoccupied baggage carts with great care.
"That's Terminal Two over there," the chief pointed out the left side of the cab, past the parked aircraft to a large grey building across the tarmac from them. It's strictly utilitarian design, with sharp corners and small windows, made it resemble more of a large warehouse than the anything else. It was one of those buildings that had been definitely designed during a time of architectural history when the term 'pleasing to the eye' was not included in the criteria for quality designs. Only the brilliant yellow glow radiating from every window gave the building a sense of habitation, and Kim thought she saw a figure pacing back and forth in front of one, but put it down to an overly active imagination.
"Hmm, looks cozy," she commented.
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "I'd bet good money the designers were on drugs," he paused for a moment. "Or maybe they weren't getting enough..."
"We're here," the chief announced as they pulled up to the side of Terminal Two.
"Thanks for the lift," Kim told the driver as they stepped out into the bitter cold winter night. He nodded in welcome, and then drove off to park his vehicle somewhere unseen. They were standing in front of a downward sloping ramp - evidently leading to the baggage sorting hall. They followed Benning down through the heavy snowfall - staying low to keep Drakken from spotting them in their orange suits - to a small door at the end of the ramp. There a pair of guards encased in fur lined parkas carrying sub-machine guns waved them inside, recognizing Kim even when dressed in her MSC flight-suit. Unlike what some would think, the baggage sorting hall was well lit and almost spotless - the floors were virtually dirt free, except for large puddles from melted snow. A team of what Kim guessed to be policemen and FBI agents were crowed around a series of tables near the doors, evidently trying to devise a plan of action.
"All right everybody," the police chief's voice boomed out over the hall, "Kim Possible is here, so let's get ready to roll."
They all crowded around both Kim and Ron, expressing their gratitude for their speedy journey. While Benning had been off in the snow-cats, it appeared the team of twenty or so men had come up with a plan to take down Drakken. They proceeded, first all at once and then slowly in turns, to explain the plan using maps, diagrams and fancy laser pointers - all of which were unnecessary. The entire thing was almost identical to what Kim and Benning had discussed on the ride over to the terminal. What had taken them a minute, these people were still 'fine tuning' - but it sounded all right to Kim. And luckily she got a chance to look at some blueprints, which one agent kindly handed to her. Though at moments a little overbearing and clumsy, she could tell that these men knew what they were doing. That didn't mean they were the most professional people she'd ever met - she found herself having to remind some of the younger FBI agents to stop staring at her chest.
"Hey buddy," she said to one who looked to be about fifteen, "I'm up here."
"Sorry," the man apologized, his face turning beet red. "Just thinking for a moment."
"Sure ya were," Ron said evilly, enjoying the man's moment of humiliation.
"Hey, don't think I didn't catch you looking. I saw those 'wandering eyes' back at the Space Center," Kim whispered in his ear. "You think I didn't notice it when I was changing."
"What!" Ron exclaimed, feigning indignation. "I liked your shirt."
"Sure ya did," she imitated him. He was about to shoot back a witty rejoinder when a senior FBI agent turned to them.
"So what do you think?" he asked them both.
"Hmm?" Kim asked, nudging Ron to keep him quiet, and also to remind him that they were on a mission. He could be perverted whenever he wanted to, just as long as it wasn't when other people's lives were at stake.
"What do you think of the operation?" the man asked, a little annoyed with these adolescents apparent lack of respect toward him and his colleagues.
"Looks good," Kim told him, glad she'd been paying attention during the briefing. They didn't have time to go over anything a second time. "We'll be ready to go as soon as we find somewhere to change."
"Uh. I'm not sure if there's a place." replied the agent, glancing around the room. Kim groaned inwardly when she realized that she was the only female in the room and, from the looks of it, everyone save Ron was a single guy - and probably not very hot on the dating scene. The result: if she took off the flight-suit, she would be surrounded by every man in the hall - all trying to 'help her' get undressed. Luckily, shifting under her suit uneasily, she felt the familiar feel of her black tank top she always wore on missions. Somehow she'd forgotten that she had changed at the Space Centre before they'd left - and that she did actually have more than skimpy lingerie under her suit.
"You know what," she told the agent, a mischievous thought creeping into her mind. "I'll just change here, okay?"
The man's eyes widened in surprise as she and Ron - he having seen the sly wink she passed him - simultaneously began unzipping their suits, and shrugging them off. "Um, you know, I think there's a screen behind the." the agent ventured halfheartedly, his mind occupied with what might be under Kim's clothing. His eyes, along with those of practically every other man in the room, were focused on the slowly dropping zipper as Kim pulled it down from her collar to her hips. She smiled innocently at everyone before reaching up and pulling the heavy garment off.
Kim watched in amusement as every single face dropped, when she shrugged off the heavy fabric to reveal clothing underneath - contrary to the bare skin everyone was hoping for. She was tempted to say something, and comment on how sad this crowd was to be hoping to see an underage teenager naked, but decided there were more pressing matters than that. Standing still for a moment, she placed a hand on her hip in impatience, until one by one the men snapped out of their own dirty little worlds.
"Ready Ms. Possible?" the SWAT team captain asked, one of the few who had turned his head away politely when she had begun to strip.
"Sure hope so," Kim replied lightheartedly.
"Good enough for me. Let's lock and load boys!" he called back to his team, sounding like every trigger-happy policemen she'd seen on TV. She hoped this was just an act in front of visitors, but had a sinking feeling that it wasn't. Kim, Ron and twelve SWAT agents walked down the baggage hall into the gloom, calls of good luck following them. They walked down to one of the terminal's many service entrances - this one being near the check-in area. The captain unlocked the door, and motioned for Kim and Ron to step inside.
"The ventilation shaft is right behind counter 106, on your left side when you enter the departures hall," the captain said, pointing in the direction of the counter. "It should travel straight for about 10 feet before intersecting with a vertical air duct. Take that up approximately 15 feet and you should run into another duct on your left. That's the main ventilation pipe for the southern side of the building - where Dr. Drakken is waiting at Gate 23."
"Got it," Kim replied, turning to climb the stairs. "We'll call you when the place is secure."
"We'll be waiting," the captain promised before closing the door, leaving them in the dark. Kim fished a flashlight out of her utility belt and switched it on, bathing the stairwell in a stark white glow. The harsh light of the halogen bulb created strange shadows against the stairs as they ascended them, and Ron stuck close to Kim in case Drakken had decided to wire the entrance with booby traps. He was so preoccupied with watching the shadows that he ran straight into her when she stopped to unlock the door to the check-in area.
"Ron!" she exclaimed, grabbing the doorframe for support.
"Sorry," he apologized, backing off to let her burn the lock off.
"They'll pay for that, right?" Kim hoped as she gently pushed the door in case someone heard them.
"We can blame it on Drakken," Ron reminded her as they stepped out of the dark service entrance into the equally dim departures hall. He guessed the gate area was the only place lit in the terminal because there was no one else in the building. The terminal had probably been evacuated when Drakken and Shego had taken the hostages.
The ventilation duct was easy to find; a large metal grille set in the wall is hard to miss. Soon they were crawling on their stomachs - the duct being too small for them to even raise their heads more than a few inches off the floor - along the metal tunnel. Kim attached her flashlight to her right backpack strap so they could move faster, since having only one hand to pull her body along was getting a little tiring. Ron just followed her lead, trying as hard as he could not to stare at her ass as it shifted back and forth in front of him.
He couldn't tell if it was that he and Kim hadn't seen each other much over the past few days, or that for some reason she looked unbelievably hot this evening. But it was wreaking havoc on his hormones and he feared that when the time came, he would be too preoccupied with Kim to keep from getting captured by Drakken. And then there was the whole Josh thing; how Ron had no idea if Kim still had feelings for him. Ron was still unsure of whether Kim had wanted to kiss him (and not Josh) at the party. It was driving him crazy, especially since half of his brain was telling him that Kim would never mess with his mind that way, while the other half was screaming that all girls love to do that. 'Whoever says that teenagers have it easy should be taken outside and hung from the nearest strong branch,' he grumbled to himself moments before again planting his face in Kim's butt.
"Ron! Pay attention!" Kim exclaimed angrily, trying to keep her balance and not fall into the vertical ventilation shaft in front of her.
"Sorry," he mumbled again, mentally kicking himself for being so stupid. Twice.
"S'ok," she forgave him before reaching back into her belt for hair dryer cum grappling hook and firing it up into the dark recesses of the vent. A dull thud signaled the all clear for Kim to swing out into the shaft. Once the launcher was clipped to her belt, she swung back to the vent, and grabbed Ron's shoulders to pull him out with her.
"Maybe you should warn me next time," he suggested once he had stopped screaming.
"Just maybe?" Kim asked sarcastically, and made sure Ron was holding onto her tightly before pressing the 'Retract' button on the launcher. They rose rapidly for a few seconds before Kim spotted the south-side duct.
After a few tries, they managed to swing into the cylindrical tunnel, detaching the cable from the launcher as they swung in. Kim somehow managed to land on Ron, her legs straddling him - definitely not what she had planned to do.
"Well," joked Ron, "this is nice.'
"Be quiet," she ordered, trying to keep the perverted comments to a minimum in case Drakken and Shego were listening. Kim could think of a hundred better reasons for being captured than Ron talking about her tits.
They began to crawl slowly along the pipe; which luckily was much bigger than its predecessor and so they didn't have to lie flat. Making sure to avoid the grilles which looked down onto rows of blue plastic seats and airline desks, they quickly moved down the vent. At one grille, Kim managed to shift her head enough to read the sign above a desk and turned back to Ron to report her findings.
"That's Gate 21, and Drakken's at 23. So we're almost there," she said to him before moving on. Now within fifty or so feet of the villains, they tried to keep their movements as silent as possible, which proved to be difficult in an aluminum tube. Kim's ears began to pick up irregular vibrations as they approached the next grille, and these soon transformed into voices - those of Dr. Drakken and Shego. As they approached the source of the noise, the conversation became clear, and it wasn't a happy one.
"It's not like we wouldn't've had a place to stay," they heard Shego say below them.
"Yes, but trying to stay hidden when the entire police force is looking for you ain't a piece of cake," Drakken retorted.
"With me it is," Shego grumbled.
"Shego!" Drakken exclaimed, losing his temper. "Just stop sulking - we're here now, so you can either leave now or stay and help me. And I think we know what the former will lead to."
"What, prison?" Shego asked mockingly. "Like we're not going to wind up there anyways."
"What's that supposed to mean?" interrogated Drakken warily.
"Dr. D, name for me five hostage taking operations where the terrorists have gotten away," challenged Shego as she lay back on a row of seats, flipping through a New Yorker.
"Um. ahh. well." Drakken stumbled, taking a break from his back and forth pacing to think.
"Thought so," she said smugly.
"Let me think Shego!" complained Drakken, pulling at his hair in frustration. "Geez, why bother complaining. You had a chance to talk me out of it. Why didn't you?"
"Between the time we checked in to the time the airline guy told you the flight was delayed," she reminded him. "What was that, like three seconds? Oh yeah, I had time - not."
"Fine Shego, fine. If you think this is such a bad idea then just go," Drakken suggested. "See if I care."
"But that's the problem," she replied wearily. "If I leave, then in two days I'm gonna be at some maximum security prison breaking you out. And I gotta tell ya, they're getting better at the maximum security part."
"So are you staying or not?" he asked, equally tired with the argument.
"Sure, whatever," she conceded. While Drakken resumed his pacing, Kim watched as Shego rose from her seat and walked over to the collection of hostages huddled up against a wall. She scanned the group, each set of eyes watching in fear, hoping she wouldn't pull out a gun and start decimating their group. Once she was sure none of them had snuck off without the guards knowing - which wasn't difficult, since they were Drakken's run-of- the-mill, utterly clueless henchmen - she returned to her seat. Other than Drakken and Shego, Kim only counted four of Drakken's red-suited henchmen watching over the hostages. Though that term could only be applied loosely, since one was leafing through an issue of Hustler, while another leaned against the wall playing a Gameboy.
"You clear on what we've gotta do?" Kim asked her partner, who was trying not to look through the grille - lest he realize how high up they were.
"Yeah - you loosen the grille with your laser pointer while I hold it steady. Then you jump down and distract the 'odd couple' while I run over and unlock the jet-bridge door for the SWAT team," he recited quietly, wishing that for once he actually was the distraction. Though at times it meant getting captured - correction: most times - it involved a lot less work. All you had to do was run away and make a lot of noise - two things he was an expert at.
"Remember to use the radio to give them the all clear," Kim pointed to the small Motorola two-way radio now clipped to his belt that Benning had handed him before they departed. "So you're ready?"
"No, but that doesn't really matter," he whispered in reply.
"Tell me something I don't know," Kim sympathized quietly, reaching back into her belt for the laser pen. Ron leaned forward and gripped the grille at two corners, holding it in place while Kim melted through sections of its frame. It was an acquired art; to be able to slice through the metal without completely breaking it off while keeping the bright amber beam hidden. Holding the pen at an awkward angle, Kim felt her hand shake slightly from the tension, and partly from adrenaline.
She wondered why all night she had been surprisingly tense, something that had been annoying while trying to keep the MRBT on a straight flight-path. Her hand had been slightly unstable then, and now the tremors were returning - just when she needed them the most. For some reason the thought 'I really need to get laid' popped into her head, something that seldom happened. She paused for a moment, confused as to why her brain would bring up the subject of sex at such a moment. Though her brain did point out that for the past week she had been unbelievably horny - she'd even resorted to the internet to relieve the. pressure - she couldn't make the connection with the vibrations in her hand. Plus, she didn't have the time right now, and so willed her hand to be steady for the time being. Now was not the time for thoughts of jumping some guy's bones.
Once the cutting was complete Kim placed the pen back in her belt and moved away from the grille Ron, already on the opposite side of the metal mesh, leaned back and extended one foot in preparation for kicking the grille out. The plan was for him to kick it out, and Kim to jump through once the opening was clear. But, as she rose up out of her crouch into a standing position - the duct being big enough for an adult to stand up in - she leaned too far forward.
In one of the clumsier moments of her life, Kim had overbalanced and begun to topple down onto the grille. Fortunately she reached out and steadied herself against the wall of the duct, saving herself from a loud crash against the aluminum floor of the pipe. But the walls were also thin, sheet metal - and her hand made a loud clang as it impacted with the tunnel's side. She froze in terror, hoping it had been quiet enough to go unnoticed by Drakken and Shego below - otherwise they were as good as captured. If the element of surprise was lost, the entire operation would fail.
Somehow her prayers were answered, and they heard no sound from below. Ron looked up in alarm when he heard the noise, and motioned for Kim to wait as he checked if the coast was clear. Regrettably he was at just the right angle so that the edge of the grille blocked his view of Drakken and Shego, making it impossible for him to see their reaction to the sound. Kim too had no way of seeing if they had heard it or not, and so the two slowly tried to shuffle around to get a better view.
Meanwhile, both the villains below had heard the sound, and were silently planning what to do. They suspected it was a rescue team dumb enough to try and sneak in through the ventilation ducts, and Drakken hastily motioned for his henchmen to watch the surrounding gates for any sign of a backup team. He then turned to Shego and, as they had planned earlier on, hummed the first few bars of 'Angels We Have Heard on High'. She nodded, and pulled a small transmitter out of her coat pocket. Without a moment's hesitation she pressed down on the large button in the center, marked 'Detonate' and dived under the nearest row of chairs.
Up above, a pair of charges placed about ten feet to either side of where Kim and Ron were hiding exploded. They were small balls of Plastique, and so there was no fireball racing down the vent to roast them alive. But Shego had designed them to be small, and had thrown them up on the duct once Drakken decided to use other methods to get a flight home. Magnetically attached to the vents, they were designed only to weaken the pipe, not to completely destroy it. The villains wanted the vent to simply crash to the floor, leaving their enemies stunned but alive. And it did just that.
Drakken and Shego both had the presence of mind and forewarning to keep them from being hit by falling debris - and the hostages were already a good four feet from where the duct hung - so no one on the ground was hurt. The two inside the duct were, however, not so lucky, as a ten foot section of the pipe detached from its supports and came tumbling to the floor. Being thin and brittle (from years in a moist, warm environment) the pipe crumpled on impact with the carpeted floor. Neither Kim nor Ron had a chance to escape, or the time to even protect their heads before the ceiling and floor contracted in on them.
Both were immediately knocked out.
Author's Note: I know it's short and there are probably lots of mistakes (spelling and plot-wise) but proofreading is really un-fun. Will make up for it in the next chapter, I promise. Next update on December 24th, the big climax!
"So, what's the sitch?"
"Could you speak up please?" the policeman called back at Kim over the roar of the snow-cat's engine. They were bouncing along what had been taxiway Juliet - now hidden beneath almost four feet of snow - from their aircraft to the terminal area. Ron sat beside her in the cab of the first of three snow-cats that constituted their welcome party. Next to Kim sat Mark Benning; the airport's police chief, and next to him their driver.
"I said: what's the sitch!" Kim repeated, yelling so the man could hear her. The drivers were really putting the pedal to the metal as they sped across the vast expanses of JFK's taxiway system towards the terminal area. When their ride had finally slid to a halt, it was almost two thousand feet from the nearest terminal building, and the delay in getting the snow-cats to their position was now making every second all the more crucial. Kim knew they didn't have long until Drakken and Shego started killing hostages, and so understood why the driver was really putting the pedal to the metal.
"Dr. Drakken and his partner are still waiting with around thirty hostages in Terminal Two," Benning told them, speaking loud enough for both teenagers to hear. "We've got around twenty minutes now until the deadline."
"What deadline?" Ron asked, practically screaming it in Kim's ear.
"If we don't have a plane fueled up and ready to go outside the terminal by then, they begin executing hostages." Benning pointed to his watch in case Ron misheard him.
"So what do you need us to do?" Kim said as they neared the jumble of parked aircraft surrounding the terminal area.
"We're still not sure," the policeman admitted. "I've got a team back at our operations center still getting the details down on our attack plan."
"Let me guess - we're the surprise attack and everyone else's backup.
"That's the long and short of it," Benning confessed apologetically. "I'm really sorry you two have to do this, and I know we're putting you in some real danger. But frankly, you're the only people who can."
"Why?" Ron asked; a little annoyed that the entire New York police force couldn't handle two criminals.
"Well, the plan is for a team to sneak in through the ventilation system. Once over the criminals, they drop down and deal with Drakken and Shego. Then they bust open the jet-bridge door and the backup team comes rushing in. Problem is the ventilation system is so small no one on the force can fit inside without going in unarmed. Plus, they're nowhere near as well versed as you are on dealing with a man like Drakken," Benning concluded.
"Oh, Drakken's so not a big deal," Kim blew it off nonchalantly. "It's Shego I'm worried about."
"Will you be able to handle her?" a concerned Benning pressed her.
"Sure. It'll be fine," Kim reassured him; "though I would like to at least look at a plan of the building before we storm the place."
"No problem, we've got an operations center set up in the baggage sorting hall," he said, as they passed the first few rows of aircraft parked on overnight stands. "It's got everything you'll need."
"Sounds great," said Kim as she looked out as they passed another row of static airliners. Weaving through those alloyed behemoths, she noticed none of them were occupied; each of their engines covered with plastic sheeting to birds from nesting inside and all doors locked tight. The harsh lighting from towers high above the aircraft gave them an eerie appearance, with their wings creating huge, distorted shadows beneath them and the snow piling on their bodies glimmering in the fierce brightness. It was like a ghost town with everything ground to a standstill by the blizzard, which had yet to depart. Though the sun had only been setting when the first flurries of snow began to arrive in Middleton, Kim could tell this storm had been hanging over the East Coast for the better part of a day. The deep hollows in the snow underneath fuselages and three foot long icicles hanging from noses were a testament to the fact that these planes had not moved for over eight hours.
"Kim, don't you think we need to check with Wade on this one?" Ron asked skeptically.
"I don't think so," she replied. "They've got a pretty good setup here - and what can Wade do that they can't?"
"You've got a point," Ron conceded after a moment of thought.
Suddenly the headlights winked off and the convoy slowed as the snow-cat rounded a corner. Clearly the drivers were trying to go unnoticed as they hugged the red brick walls of one of the terminal buildings, inching past rows of unoccupied baggage carts with great care.
"That's Terminal Two over there," the chief pointed out the left side of the cab, past the parked aircraft to a large grey building across the tarmac from them. It's strictly utilitarian design, with sharp corners and small windows, made it resemble more of a large warehouse than the anything else. It was one of those buildings that had been definitely designed during a time of architectural history when the term 'pleasing to the eye' was not included in the criteria for quality designs. Only the brilliant yellow glow radiating from every window gave the building a sense of habitation, and Kim thought she saw a figure pacing back and forth in front of one, but put it down to an overly active imagination.
"Hmm, looks cozy," she commented.
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "I'd bet good money the designers were on drugs," he paused for a moment. "Or maybe they weren't getting enough..."
"We're here," the chief announced as they pulled up to the side of Terminal Two.
"Thanks for the lift," Kim told the driver as they stepped out into the bitter cold winter night. He nodded in welcome, and then drove off to park his vehicle somewhere unseen. They were standing in front of a downward sloping ramp - evidently leading to the baggage sorting hall. They followed Benning down through the heavy snowfall - staying low to keep Drakken from spotting them in their orange suits - to a small door at the end of the ramp. There a pair of guards encased in fur lined parkas carrying sub-machine guns waved them inside, recognizing Kim even when dressed in her MSC flight-suit. Unlike what some would think, the baggage sorting hall was well lit and almost spotless - the floors were virtually dirt free, except for large puddles from melted snow. A team of what Kim guessed to be policemen and FBI agents were crowed around a series of tables near the doors, evidently trying to devise a plan of action.
"All right everybody," the police chief's voice boomed out over the hall, "Kim Possible is here, so let's get ready to roll."
They all crowded around both Kim and Ron, expressing their gratitude for their speedy journey. While Benning had been off in the snow-cats, it appeared the team of twenty or so men had come up with a plan to take down Drakken. They proceeded, first all at once and then slowly in turns, to explain the plan using maps, diagrams and fancy laser pointers - all of which were unnecessary. The entire thing was almost identical to what Kim and Benning had discussed on the ride over to the terminal. What had taken them a minute, these people were still 'fine tuning' - but it sounded all right to Kim. And luckily she got a chance to look at some blueprints, which one agent kindly handed to her. Though at moments a little overbearing and clumsy, she could tell that these men knew what they were doing. That didn't mean they were the most professional people she'd ever met - she found herself having to remind some of the younger FBI agents to stop staring at her chest.
"Hey buddy," she said to one who looked to be about fifteen, "I'm up here."
"Sorry," the man apologized, his face turning beet red. "Just thinking for a moment."
"Sure ya were," Ron said evilly, enjoying the man's moment of humiliation.
"Hey, don't think I didn't catch you looking. I saw those 'wandering eyes' back at the Space Center," Kim whispered in his ear. "You think I didn't notice it when I was changing."
"What!" Ron exclaimed, feigning indignation. "I liked your shirt."
"Sure ya did," she imitated him. He was about to shoot back a witty rejoinder when a senior FBI agent turned to them.
"So what do you think?" he asked them both.
"Hmm?" Kim asked, nudging Ron to keep him quiet, and also to remind him that they were on a mission. He could be perverted whenever he wanted to, just as long as it wasn't when other people's lives were at stake.
"What do you think of the operation?" the man asked, a little annoyed with these adolescents apparent lack of respect toward him and his colleagues.
"Looks good," Kim told him, glad she'd been paying attention during the briefing. They didn't have time to go over anything a second time. "We'll be ready to go as soon as we find somewhere to change."
"Uh. I'm not sure if there's a place." replied the agent, glancing around the room. Kim groaned inwardly when she realized that she was the only female in the room and, from the looks of it, everyone save Ron was a single guy - and probably not very hot on the dating scene. The result: if she took off the flight-suit, she would be surrounded by every man in the hall - all trying to 'help her' get undressed. Luckily, shifting under her suit uneasily, she felt the familiar feel of her black tank top she always wore on missions. Somehow she'd forgotten that she had changed at the Space Centre before they'd left - and that she did actually have more than skimpy lingerie under her suit.
"You know what," she told the agent, a mischievous thought creeping into her mind. "I'll just change here, okay?"
The man's eyes widened in surprise as she and Ron - he having seen the sly wink she passed him - simultaneously began unzipping their suits, and shrugging them off. "Um, you know, I think there's a screen behind the." the agent ventured halfheartedly, his mind occupied with what might be under Kim's clothing. His eyes, along with those of practically every other man in the room, were focused on the slowly dropping zipper as Kim pulled it down from her collar to her hips. She smiled innocently at everyone before reaching up and pulling the heavy garment off.
Kim watched in amusement as every single face dropped, when she shrugged off the heavy fabric to reveal clothing underneath - contrary to the bare skin everyone was hoping for. She was tempted to say something, and comment on how sad this crowd was to be hoping to see an underage teenager naked, but decided there were more pressing matters than that. Standing still for a moment, she placed a hand on her hip in impatience, until one by one the men snapped out of their own dirty little worlds.
"Ready Ms. Possible?" the SWAT team captain asked, one of the few who had turned his head away politely when she had begun to strip.
"Sure hope so," Kim replied lightheartedly.
"Good enough for me. Let's lock and load boys!" he called back to his team, sounding like every trigger-happy policemen she'd seen on TV. She hoped this was just an act in front of visitors, but had a sinking feeling that it wasn't. Kim, Ron and twelve SWAT agents walked down the baggage hall into the gloom, calls of good luck following them. They walked down to one of the terminal's many service entrances - this one being near the check-in area. The captain unlocked the door, and motioned for Kim and Ron to step inside.
"The ventilation shaft is right behind counter 106, on your left side when you enter the departures hall," the captain said, pointing in the direction of the counter. "It should travel straight for about 10 feet before intersecting with a vertical air duct. Take that up approximately 15 feet and you should run into another duct on your left. That's the main ventilation pipe for the southern side of the building - where Dr. Drakken is waiting at Gate 23."
"Got it," Kim replied, turning to climb the stairs. "We'll call you when the place is secure."
"We'll be waiting," the captain promised before closing the door, leaving them in the dark. Kim fished a flashlight out of her utility belt and switched it on, bathing the stairwell in a stark white glow. The harsh light of the halogen bulb created strange shadows against the stairs as they ascended them, and Ron stuck close to Kim in case Drakken had decided to wire the entrance with booby traps. He was so preoccupied with watching the shadows that he ran straight into her when she stopped to unlock the door to the check-in area.
"Ron!" she exclaimed, grabbing the doorframe for support.
"Sorry," he apologized, backing off to let her burn the lock off.
"They'll pay for that, right?" Kim hoped as she gently pushed the door in case someone heard them.
"We can blame it on Drakken," Ron reminded her as they stepped out of the dark service entrance into the equally dim departures hall. He guessed the gate area was the only place lit in the terminal because there was no one else in the building. The terminal had probably been evacuated when Drakken and Shego had taken the hostages.
The ventilation duct was easy to find; a large metal grille set in the wall is hard to miss. Soon they were crawling on their stomachs - the duct being too small for them to even raise their heads more than a few inches off the floor - along the metal tunnel. Kim attached her flashlight to her right backpack strap so they could move faster, since having only one hand to pull her body along was getting a little tiring. Ron just followed her lead, trying as hard as he could not to stare at her ass as it shifted back and forth in front of him.
He couldn't tell if it was that he and Kim hadn't seen each other much over the past few days, or that for some reason she looked unbelievably hot this evening. But it was wreaking havoc on his hormones and he feared that when the time came, he would be too preoccupied with Kim to keep from getting captured by Drakken. And then there was the whole Josh thing; how Ron had no idea if Kim still had feelings for him. Ron was still unsure of whether Kim had wanted to kiss him (and not Josh) at the party. It was driving him crazy, especially since half of his brain was telling him that Kim would never mess with his mind that way, while the other half was screaming that all girls love to do that. 'Whoever says that teenagers have it easy should be taken outside and hung from the nearest strong branch,' he grumbled to himself moments before again planting his face in Kim's butt.
"Ron! Pay attention!" Kim exclaimed angrily, trying to keep her balance and not fall into the vertical ventilation shaft in front of her.
"Sorry," he mumbled again, mentally kicking himself for being so stupid. Twice.
"S'ok," she forgave him before reaching back into her belt for hair dryer cum grappling hook and firing it up into the dark recesses of the vent. A dull thud signaled the all clear for Kim to swing out into the shaft. Once the launcher was clipped to her belt, she swung back to the vent, and grabbed Ron's shoulders to pull him out with her.
"Maybe you should warn me next time," he suggested once he had stopped screaming.
"Just maybe?" Kim asked sarcastically, and made sure Ron was holding onto her tightly before pressing the 'Retract' button on the launcher. They rose rapidly for a few seconds before Kim spotted the south-side duct.
After a few tries, they managed to swing into the cylindrical tunnel, detaching the cable from the launcher as they swung in. Kim somehow managed to land on Ron, her legs straddling him - definitely not what she had planned to do.
"Well," joked Ron, "this is nice.'
"Be quiet," she ordered, trying to keep the perverted comments to a minimum in case Drakken and Shego were listening. Kim could think of a hundred better reasons for being captured than Ron talking about her tits.
They began to crawl slowly along the pipe; which luckily was much bigger than its predecessor and so they didn't have to lie flat. Making sure to avoid the grilles which looked down onto rows of blue plastic seats and airline desks, they quickly moved down the vent. At one grille, Kim managed to shift her head enough to read the sign above a desk and turned back to Ron to report her findings.
"That's Gate 21, and Drakken's at 23. So we're almost there," she said to him before moving on. Now within fifty or so feet of the villains, they tried to keep their movements as silent as possible, which proved to be difficult in an aluminum tube. Kim's ears began to pick up irregular vibrations as they approached the next grille, and these soon transformed into voices - those of Dr. Drakken and Shego. As they approached the source of the noise, the conversation became clear, and it wasn't a happy one.
"It's not like we wouldn't've had a place to stay," they heard Shego say below them.
"Yes, but trying to stay hidden when the entire police force is looking for you ain't a piece of cake," Drakken retorted.
"With me it is," Shego grumbled.
"Shego!" Drakken exclaimed, losing his temper. "Just stop sulking - we're here now, so you can either leave now or stay and help me. And I think we know what the former will lead to."
"What, prison?" Shego asked mockingly. "Like we're not going to wind up there anyways."
"What's that supposed to mean?" interrogated Drakken warily.
"Dr. D, name for me five hostage taking operations where the terrorists have gotten away," challenged Shego as she lay back on a row of seats, flipping through a New Yorker.
"Um. ahh. well." Drakken stumbled, taking a break from his back and forth pacing to think.
"Thought so," she said smugly.
"Let me think Shego!" complained Drakken, pulling at his hair in frustration. "Geez, why bother complaining. You had a chance to talk me out of it. Why didn't you?"
"Between the time we checked in to the time the airline guy told you the flight was delayed," she reminded him. "What was that, like three seconds? Oh yeah, I had time - not."
"Fine Shego, fine. If you think this is such a bad idea then just go," Drakken suggested. "See if I care."
"But that's the problem," she replied wearily. "If I leave, then in two days I'm gonna be at some maximum security prison breaking you out. And I gotta tell ya, they're getting better at the maximum security part."
"So are you staying or not?" he asked, equally tired with the argument.
"Sure, whatever," she conceded. While Drakken resumed his pacing, Kim watched as Shego rose from her seat and walked over to the collection of hostages huddled up against a wall. She scanned the group, each set of eyes watching in fear, hoping she wouldn't pull out a gun and start decimating their group. Once she was sure none of them had snuck off without the guards knowing - which wasn't difficult, since they were Drakken's run-of- the-mill, utterly clueless henchmen - she returned to her seat. Other than Drakken and Shego, Kim only counted four of Drakken's red-suited henchmen watching over the hostages. Though that term could only be applied loosely, since one was leafing through an issue of Hustler, while another leaned against the wall playing a Gameboy.
"You clear on what we've gotta do?" Kim asked her partner, who was trying not to look through the grille - lest he realize how high up they were.
"Yeah - you loosen the grille with your laser pointer while I hold it steady. Then you jump down and distract the 'odd couple' while I run over and unlock the jet-bridge door for the SWAT team," he recited quietly, wishing that for once he actually was the distraction. Though at times it meant getting captured - correction: most times - it involved a lot less work. All you had to do was run away and make a lot of noise - two things he was an expert at.
"Remember to use the radio to give them the all clear," Kim pointed to the small Motorola two-way radio now clipped to his belt that Benning had handed him before they departed. "So you're ready?"
"No, but that doesn't really matter," he whispered in reply.
"Tell me something I don't know," Kim sympathized quietly, reaching back into her belt for the laser pen. Ron leaned forward and gripped the grille at two corners, holding it in place while Kim melted through sections of its frame. It was an acquired art; to be able to slice through the metal without completely breaking it off while keeping the bright amber beam hidden. Holding the pen at an awkward angle, Kim felt her hand shake slightly from the tension, and partly from adrenaline.
She wondered why all night she had been surprisingly tense, something that had been annoying while trying to keep the MRBT on a straight flight-path. Her hand had been slightly unstable then, and now the tremors were returning - just when she needed them the most. For some reason the thought 'I really need to get laid' popped into her head, something that seldom happened. She paused for a moment, confused as to why her brain would bring up the subject of sex at such a moment. Though her brain did point out that for the past week she had been unbelievably horny - she'd even resorted to the internet to relieve the. pressure - she couldn't make the connection with the vibrations in her hand. Plus, she didn't have the time right now, and so willed her hand to be steady for the time being. Now was not the time for thoughts of jumping some guy's bones.
Once the cutting was complete Kim placed the pen back in her belt and moved away from the grille Ron, already on the opposite side of the metal mesh, leaned back and extended one foot in preparation for kicking the grille out. The plan was for him to kick it out, and Kim to jump through once the opening was clear. But, as she rose up out of her crouch into a standing position - the duct being big enough for an adult to stand up in - she leaned too far forward.
In one of the clumsier moments of her life, Kim had overbalanced and begun to topple down onto the grille. Fortunately she reached out and steadied herself against the wall of the duct, saving herself from a loud crash against the aluminum floor of the pipe. But the walls were also thin, sheet metal - and her hand made a loud clang as it impacted with the tunnel's side. She froze in terror, hoping it had been quiet enough to go unnoticed by Drakken and Shego below - otherwise they were as good as captured. If the element of surprise was lost, the entire operation would fail.
Somehow her prayers were answered, and they heard no sound from below. Ron looked up in alarm when he heard the noise, and motioned for Kim to wait as he checked if the coast was clear. Regrettably he was at just the right angle so that the edge of the grille blocked his view of Drakken and Shego, making it impossible for him to see their reaction to the sound. Kim too had no way of seeing if they had heard it or not, and so the two slowly tried to shuffle around to get a better view.
Meanwhile, both the villains below had heard the sound, and were silently planning what to do. They suspected it was a rescue team dumb enough to try and sneak in through the ventilation ducts, and Drakken hastily motioned for his henchmen to watch the surrounding gates for any sign of a backup team. He then turned to Shego and, as they had planned earlier on, hummed the first few bars of 'Angels We Have Heard on High'. She nodded, and pulled a small transmitter out of her coat pocket. Without a moment's hesitation she pressed down on the large button in the center, marked 'Detonate' and dived under the nearest row of chairs.
Up above, a pair of charges placed about ten feet to either side of where Kim and Ron were hiding exploded. They were small balls of Plastique, and so there was no fireball racing down the vent to roast them alive. But Shego had designed them to be small, and had thrown them up on the duct once Drakken decided to use other methods to get a flight home. Magnetically attached to the vents, they were designed only to weaken the pipe, not to completely destroy it. The villains wanted the vent to simply crash to the floor, leaving their enemies stunned but alive. And it did just that.
Drakken and Shego both had the presence of mind and forewarning to keep them from being hit by falling debris - and the hostages were already a good four feet from where the duct hung - so no one on the ground was hurt. The two inside the duct were, however, not so lucky, as a ten foot section of the pipe detached from its supports and came tumbling to the floor. Being thin and brittle (from years in a moist, warm environment) the pipe crumpled on impact with the carpeted floor. Neither Kim nor Ron had a chance to escape, or the time to even protect their heads before the ceiling and floor contracted in on them.
Both were immediately knocked out.
Author's Note: I know it's short and there are probably lots of mistakes (spelling and plot-wise) but proofreading is really un-fun. Will make up for it in the next chapter, I promise. Next update on December 24th, the big climax!