Kim Possible, its characters, locations, and original concepts are all registered trademarks of Disney Inc. The use of the abovementioned is without permission and of a strictly non-profit nature for entertainment purposes only. This fic, applied with a moderate amount of American currency (ex. 2.50) will obtain its operator a cup of coffee at a local beanery. Don't that beat all?
Kim Possible
The Power of Love
by Cyberwraith9
"So, gentlemen," Drakken opened his arms wide, grinning broadly as he looked around the circular table, "Are there any questions?"
There was silence from the eight other chairs in the dark, ominous ovoid room. Sixteen large, confused eyes blinked slowly at the withering rose and strange, bubbling vial of deadly green liquid sitting in front of the blue-hued host. Nearby, Shego leaned against a wall in the shadows, her pale skin illuminated by the single light situated above the table as she filed nonchalantly at her nails.
Señor Senior Junior was the first to speak. He scratched his tilted head, gazing mournfully at the flower in its vase, now little more than dust. "I do not understand," he said after a moment. "Why have you destroyed such a beautiful blossom? You said you grew it yourself…"
His father scowled, turning to Drakken with concern. "My son raises a valid, if somewhat misguided, point. What does your 'Bio-Terminator' have to do with any of us?" The elder Senior gestured around the table to the other guests, who nodded in agreement.
It was just the opening Drakken had been waiting for. "Gentlemen," he addressed them graciously, "I have asked you here today because I have a vision of the future the likes of which the world has never seen before." He looked from person to person, giving them each a nod. "You are the best at what you do. As such, I have generously chosen to share that vision with you, and you alone."
"Monkey Fist," he greeted the lanky, hairy man directly to his left, "Your martial arts prowess is unmatched, and your simian forces are feared across the land."
"Careful, Drakken," The English nobleman's lips twisted into a sneer beneath his wild, animalistic eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere, fast." His warning escaped sharp, pointed fangs, the results of years of genetic manipulation that had given him his agility, speed, strength, and opposable digits on each foot, effectively making him the missing link that nature had never intended.
With a nod, Drakken continued on to a squat, glaring man with fiery red hair and beard. The surly, unkempt man wore red and green in a plaid pattern swathed around him on kilt and clothes. A small bag of golf clubs sat behind him, resting within easy reach should something happen. "Duff Killigan," he acknowledged the rogue golfer, "Undefeated on the golf course, and a world-class munitions dealer." Killigan offered him a curt nod, but nothing vocal for the moment.
"The Knights of Roddigan." Drakken next illuminated a trio of gentlemen tightly clustered at the far end of his gathering. "Captains of the military technological development industry."
The Knights' de facto leader, a man introduced only as Long, leaned in. His hair and eyes were dark, his expression perpetually brooding. His companions possessed features similar to his own, save for their blonde and red hair flanking Long's black locks on either side. Men of few words, they had given the names as Falchion and Claymore (respectively), and nothing more.
"Roddigan Industries is interested in your plans, Doctor Drakken." Long informed him curtly. "However, we will not commit to anything until satisfied that the return will adequately compensate for the risk."
"Naturally." Next in Drakken's hit parade was an individual most out of place. He possessed thinning brown hair, and wore a plastic orange smock with colorful buttons pinned to the front. "And Mr. Lucre…A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Frugal Lucre glanced at the conglomeration of international cutthroats and miscreants, trembling slightly. "I, uh…I'm not sure why I'm here." he admitted nervously.
"In a minute." Drakken assured the Smarty Mart clerk. "And of course," he at last gave a nod to the remaining two occupants, "My friends, the Seniors."
"Please, Drakken," Senior insisted impatiently, "Get to the point."
Smiling, Drakken reached beneath the black velvet tablecloth sprawled out before them. His other hand swept aside the rose vase and oozing vial, both of which shattered dramatically on the floor with a terrific crash that got everyone's attention quickly. Before the glass had even settled, he removed a tiny model rocket from beneath the table and set it atop the soft velvet. "My friends," he gloated, "Allow me to present Drak Force Five!"
Monkey Fist eyed the tiny blue-and-black model contemptuously. "So?" he sneered, already sensing this whole endeavor to be a great waste of his time.
The scientist's smile flipped into a frown at the general disinterest around the table. "The point, my simple simian, is that, with proper modifications, the rocket we will steal can-"
"'Will' steal?" Long looked skeptical. "You haven't even secured the main component of your 'plan,' of which you've shared little with us. I must say, this does not bode well." There was a general nod of consensus about the table, which only deepened Drakken's scowl.
"Aye," Killigan nodded with a grunt. "Yer plannin' yer game oot b'fore ye have yer ball on th' tee, lad."
Drakken blinked for a moment. "I don't know what Killigan said," he admitted, "But as for the rest of you, let me assure you; This plan is foolproof!"
"Said the fool…" Shego muttered quietly from the sidelines, blowing on her nails.
"No," Drakken said firmly, "I don't have the hardware required for this endeavor. That is why I have gathered you here. You see, Drak Force Five is merely the delivery method for my Bio-Terminator, and the first part of my master plan. The second part…" he paused with a grand flourish, reaching for a hidden control beneath the table.
"Here it comes," Shego sighed.
"Is this!" With a flick of his finger, Drakken activated a hidden holo-projector. A large, dome-like image flickered into existence over the table, rotating slowly in front of the gathered forces of darkness. "I give you," Drakken huffed, "The Drakken Sub-Oceanic Hydroponics Sustenance Production Facility!"
There were more blank stares around the table as Drakken puffed noisily, his breathing the only sound to be heard. Lucre broke first, however, and said what everyone else had been thinking. "What?"
Drakken's good cheer vanished in a series of hushed grumblings as his claws scraped against the soft black table cover. "It's a farm." he growled through his teeth. "A hydroponic farm capable of accelerated food growth." He tapped the hidden control once more, and suddenly the holographic Hydro Farm was sitting on the bottom of a holographic ocean floor. "It's designed to operate at the bottom of the sea, far from prying eyes or possible attacks."
Senior seemed intrigued. He leaned forward, resting his wrinkled, bejeweled hands on his cane. "I see." he said simply. "And what is it you intend to do with these farms of yours, might I inquire?"
"You may." The smile returned to Drakken's face as he reworked the holo-controls. Suddenly the farm was replaced with a map of the Midwest, once again rotating to that each of them got a chance to view the colorful layout of America's ho-hum midsection.
"Drak Force Five…once constructed," he added with a sneer in Long's direction. The businessman seemed hardly perturbed. "-will launch from this very facility." A tiny dot bearing Drakken's gruesome likeness appeared in the corner of the map, blinking merrily across the countryside until it came to rest in the middle of Nebraska. "From there, we will strike at America's heartland, spreading my Bio-Terminator across the countryside and wiping out millions of acres of crops."
"And with the crops out of the way," Long spoke up, "You intend to corner the market on foodstuffs, using it as leverage for a hostile takeover of the US, and then the world."
"Brilliant." Falchion quipped.
Claymore raised a brow. "Quite."
Drakken seemed pleased that his most vocal opponents thus far were paying him compliment. "Exactly," he crowed, slamming a fist into his open palm.
"Then the question remains," Long interjected again, "Is what do you need with us?"
"Supplies." Drakken said, tucking one hand behind his back as he began gesturing with the other. "Resources. Labor." He shut the hologram down, settling back into his seat. "I have a vision. Without your help, that's all it will remain." Drakken went around the table to each of them, bolstering their egos; "The Seniors have the bank to finance the project. Roddigan Industries has some of the technology I require."
"What about me?" Lucre, who had been relatively quiet up until now, dared to raise his hand, albeit tentatively. "Why am I here?"
"With a project of this magnitude?" Drakken smiled at the small-time villain. "I want the best budget-man on the planet. You'll ensure that we get the most bang for the Seniors' buck."
"What of us?" Monkey Fist demanded, indicating Killigan and himself. "You've said nothing about us…much less what we would all stand to gain, assuming this asinine plan of yours worked."
"Aye, we're no' exactly scientists, are we?"
"Simple," Drakken glanced back at Shego, who returned his contemptuous look in kind. "A recent 'development' with the Kim Possible situation has caused me to reconsider the muscle on my team." He leaned over the table, looking both of them squarely. "Your job is going to be simple: Should Kim Possible interfere…" He drew a finger across his throat, letting the action speak louder than any words he could have mustered.
"And should we succeed?" Senior asked cautiously, drawing Drakken's attention back to the truly important.
"Even split." Drakken assured him. "We'll divide up the world, and go our separate ways, if that's what everyone wants."
"Hmm…" Monkey Fist exchanged glances with the man to his left. He and Killigan shared a function on the team, creating an unspoken (and rather odd) bond between the two. The gleam reflected in the mad golfer's eyes was more than enough confirmation for him. "Crushing Kim Possible 'and' ruling the world?"
"Aye," Killigan's malodeous grin split wide across yellowing teeth. "Sounds goo' to me!"
Long conversed with his comrades for a moment before answering. "Your plan meets with our approval, Drakken," he said, "Provided we may stay on to supervise Roddigan Industry's interests."
"Yes," Senior nodded, "A most ingenious plan, Doctor Drakken."
"I liked the part with the rocket ship." Junior agreed, examining the scientist's model of Drak Force Five. He caught sight of his father's ire as the rocket whooshed around in his hands in a most un-villain-like manner. "What?"
"And you, Lucre?" Drakken asked with bated breath.
"Well," the low-budget baddie considered, tapping his false goatee, "I 'do' like ruling things. Okay," he exclaimed, "I'm in!"
"Excellent!" This was the moment Drakken had been waiting for. He reached out, grabbing fistfuls of the velvet table cover. "Then together, we shall become an invincible armada of pain and torment unleashed upon this pitiful, unsuspecting world. We are…the LEGION OF VILLAINOUS EVIL!" He tore the cloth away, revealing fresh engraving on the metallic surface beneath.
The eight villains present at Drakken's invitation stared incredulously at the lettering etched into the metal table. The mad scientist waited expectantly with a smile, expecting a cheer or a congratulatory pat on the back at any moment. But that smile quickly faded at the crushing silence that met him and his lettering instead.
"What," Junior eyeballed the table skeptically, "Is this?"
"Why, our evil team signature, of course." Drakken insisted, puffing with pride. "The place I had it done at charges by the letter, and I thought something short would sound more evil, so I had it shortened to an acronym. Look!"
He pressed another of his hidden controls, calling his henchmen in with a loud buzz. Three of the hulking, dumpy brutes at his command entered sheepishly, looking miserable in their new crimson jumpsuits, which featured the new lettering in bold, black block across the front.
"Even the henchmen are excited to be part of the Legion of Villainous Evil!" Drakken insisted. "Aren't you?" A couple of mutters were their only replies, which drew a furious glare from him. Fearful, they faked further enthusiasm until he was satisfied, leaning back with a smug smirk on his twisted, scarred features. "Darn right!"
The quiet about the table dissolved into disgusted sighs and grunts as the collected rogues groaned. "Drakken, you fool," Senior rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly, feeling a headache coming on.
Drakken seemed confused. "What?"
Killigan slammed his fist onto the monogram, glaring at their chief organizer. "Are ye daft, man?" he demanded. "I'm no' going into battle with 'LoVE' printed on me kilt!"
"Oh please," Monkey Fist groaned, "Let's not think about your kilt, Killigan."
Drakken blinked several times, taking another look at his brilliant moniker's shortened form. It had never occurred to him to actually 'spell' the letters out…he had always just spoken the full name aloud or in his head whenever he looked upon it. "SHEGO!"
"You bellowed?" she asked, still playing with her nails as she leaned against the far wall.
"Why didn't you WARN me?" he demanded in a whining voice, waving a hand over the Legion's unfortunate logo. "I've already replaced ALL of the henchmen's uniforms!"
"I did." she responded irritably. "Twice. But you were too busy ranting and raving about 'Legion this', and 'Drak Force that', or whatever…"
"No wonder you didn't want one of the new uniforms…" Drakken muttered crossly, folding his arms and turning away from his lippy henchwoman in a huff.
Senior stood, quieting the erupted chaos of protests with a pair of calm, raised hands. "Drakken," he said smoothly, "I suggest we adjourn to more important matters." He caught his son returning to his games with the model rocket, and snatched it from Junior's disappointed hands.
"Agreed." Long stood, prompting his comrades to follow suit. "If we are to succeed, then we still have much to do."
One by one, the rest of them rose from their seats. Drakken's embarrassed henchmen led the way at the scientist's request, leaving him alone with Shego a moment later. She sauntered over to her employer, who was still lamenting his grievous error with the unfortunate dubbing of his League. "So," she said casually, holstering her nail file, "I didn't see Amy anywhere?"
Drakken's thoughts emerged from his self-recriminations long enough to call forth the lovely visage of DNAmy, his unrequented…well, he wouldn't call it love, but it was something at least passably close to it. "She, uh…didn't return my calls." he said sheepishly.
-
"KP…I don't know how much longer I can hold it…" Ron grunted.
Kim moaned as she was shoved up against the inside of the stainless steel elevator. In such a tiny space, even Ron's slightest movement could push her over the edge. The constant, soft thrum of the lift's motor was nearly drowned out by their grunting and panting. "Come on, Ron." Kim coaxed, "Just a little longer…Almost there…"
Ron felt beads of sweat dripping down his face from the sheer exertion. "I'm…I'm gonna lose it!"
"Just a little more," Kim pleaded. "We've almost…"
"Kim!"
The doors of the elevator slid open with a tiny, polite 'ding' just in time for Ron to topple over, sending the box that he and Kim had been carrying across the shiny steel floor. He rose to his wobbly hands and knees, puffing and making a big scene. Then again, Ron never did anything halfway…
Still, she was grateful for his help. After all, he had gotten her out of that pit of a dorm room…in more ways than one. They had waited the rest of the week, until Saturday had rolled around, to move Kim in. It had been a long week, so a few classic 'Ron-Antics' weren't going to spoil her mood in the least.
Kim sighed, helping him to his feet in the gleaming metallic corridor. "Maybe we should have set it down in the elevator…" she said, praying that nothing in their box was broken. She did a double-take, marveling at the space around them as the elevator door slid closed.
On the exterior, the Global Justice building (located conveniently near campus, but in the opposite direction of Ron's apartment) seemed nothing more than an abandoned warehouse. Inside, however, was a completely different story; everything was made of stainless steel, buffed to a high gloss and lit with quiet, efficient florescent lights that lined the ceiling. The hallway stretched down for nearly thirty meters, but had only a handful of doors on either side.
"Whoa…" Ron whistled appreciatively, checking his reflection in the wall. He ran a hand over his cowlick as his visual inspection circled the tiny corridor. "It's like affordable housing meets Star Trek."
Rufus popped out of Ron's pocket, chattering excitedly. He, too, saw his flawless reflection in the metallic mirror, and began preening as the two teens retrieved their box. After a quick inspection, Kim was greatly relieved to find that nothing had been broken. When GJ offered to move her in, she jumped at the chance, but had opted to take all of her near-and-dear valuables—pictures, knick-knacks, and the like—by herself.
With another grunt, she and Ron hefted the box once more, walking down the hall. Kim balanced her half of the box in one arm and removed a small slip of paper from her pocket. "It says my room's here on the top floor." she said, putting the paper on top of the box and resuming a two-handed carry before she lost her grip. "Should be around here somewhere."
Of course, since they were hauling a heavy box, it 'had' to be the last door in the hallway. They soon came across it, thankful to find a door with the word 'Possible' printed across. Kim tapped the tiny red panel to the side, and the door whooshed upward into the ceiling. Exchanging bemused glances with her boys, she led the way into the room.
If the hallway had impressed them, the actual room left both of the teens absolutely flabbergasted. As soon as Kim turned her head, she lost her grip on the box, leaving Ron with the entire weight. "Hey!" he cried, struggling to lower the hefty package to the floor with care, "How about a little warning…next…time…" he trailed off as he too saw Kim's new home.
If Ron's room had made Kim's dorm look like a sty, then GJ's housing facilities did the same to the blonde's apartment. It was an enormous split-level affair, with soft grey carpeting that extended all the way to Kim's full, open-air kitchen. Most of the apartment was open, in fact; apparently, a global spy network concerned with security didn't think much of walls when it came to home life.
Next to the kitchen was a spacious living room, complete with leather couches and a full entertainment system, complete with a big-screen TV. Further into the apartment, on the upper level a few steps above, was a series of small, comfortable chairs that matched her living room set, arranged around a gigantic bay window that allowed the cold September sunlight to stream in. A metallic spiral staircase was set in the far corner of the room, leading up to a door that Kim could only assume led to her bedroom.
Even Rufus gaped at the enormity and grandeur of Kim's new pad. The rodent immediately leapt forward, streaking for the television remote resting on one of the leather easy chairs. In the meantime, Ron had abandoned the box at the door and was now stumbling into the room. "Now this is living." he declared, spinning in a slow circle with arms outstretched.
Kim was still speechless with joy. She walked into the kitchen…'her' kitchen, and ran a hand over the sleek black marble countertop. She could almost feel tears welling up in her eyes, but held them back somehow. It was more than she could have ever dreamed of.
Ron noticed his friend's silence, and was at her side in a flash. "KP?" he asked, coming up behind her and reaching for her shoulder. "You okay?"
She felt Ron's gentle embrace from behind, and turned to smile at him. "Mm-hmm!" was the best she could muster, her eyes shining like brilliant beacons. She knew she had Ron to thank for encouraging her to take GJ's offer, and just the sight of the room made it all worthwhile.
Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. The quiet noise drew Kim and Ron from their inspection from the room as Will Du's somber face poked in from the hallway with an inquiring look. "May I come in?"
"Absolutely!" Kim waved the agent in excitedly, missing the sour look on Ron's face. Will obediently strode in, carrying another of his infamous folders beneath his arm. His other hand was tucked away behind him. "Come to welcome me to the neighborhood?" she asked with a playful grin.
"Partly." he admitted, and withdrew his hand from behind his back. Kim gasped at the sight of a small basket, filled to the brim with fruit, chocolates and flowers. She took the gift from him, sniffing at the exotic blossoms as Will set his folder on the counter. "I wanted to see how you were settling in. Your possessions are all up in your room, and as you can see," he gestured to the rest of the place, "Global Justice has seen to all your other needs."
"So," Ron said, "Where are all the neighbors?"
"You're looking at them." Will replied coolly.
"Say hah?"
Kim had to admit, she was perplexed as well; the building was several stories from the outside, and took up the better part of a square block. Just from the elevator ride, she knew that it also extended several levels beneath the ground. "What about all the other rooms?"
"Currently," he explained, "GJ's program here in Upperton is limited to you, and me. We're hoping to expand, but until then the entire facility has only two official occupants."
Even with the training gym situated on the first floor, the computer rooms below that, and all of the other GJ work to keep her busy, Kim couldn't help but think about how lonely it would be away from the hustle and bustle of regular life. "Kinda isolated, huh?"
"Don't worry, KP," Ron threw an arm around her shoulder, waving a hand across Kim's new place. "With a pad like this, you know you'll never get rid of me and Rufus!"
"Uh-huh!" Rufus called from across the room, already surfing through Kim's eight hundred channels (and finding nothing to watch, of course).
Like a storm cloud that wouldn't leave, Will once again rained on Ron's parade. "Actually, that won't be possible."
"Say hah?" Ron asked again.
Will folded his arms, becoming even more serious than usual. "Because of the nature of our operation here, Global Justice keeps a Level Five alert status as standard operation procedure. Thus," he added, glaring at Ron, "Means no unauthorized personnel."
Kim could see the flash of anger building in Ron's eyes as he stalked towards the agent, his finger already up and pointing. "So, first I can't be in your club," Ron fumed, "And now I can't come to your clubhouse?"
She quickly interposed herself between the two, holding Ron at bay. "Cool it, Ron!" she eased him down until he was merely glaring at Will. Looking at her fellow agent, she said, "Look, there's got to be some way of getting Ron clearance to visit."
"Naturally." Will picked his folder up, handing it to Ron with a trace of humor in his eyes. "If you had let me finish," he said to the glowering teen, "All you have to do is fill out the proper forms and requisitions, and we can get you a guest pass that will allow you into the building during normal visiting hours."
Ron leafed through the folder, staring at the incomprehensible gibberish laid out before him. "So, which one is it?" he asked.
"All of them."
Ron nearly dropped the folder. "All of THIS to get a guest pass?" he exclaimed, waving the folder in Will's face.
"Don't be silly," Will assured him with a tiny smirk. He waited a beat for Ron to calm down a bit, and then added, "Those are the forms you need to fill out to requisition the proper forms and background checks for the guest pass."
His head tilted, his eyes narrowed, Ron could only glare at Will as he forced his anger back down. It wouldn't do to beat the living snot out of Kim's new partner right in front of her on her first day. "You get off on this, don't you?" he demanded instead.
Will was about to respond when his wristwatch began beeping. Frowning, he turned away from the duo for a moment, apparently reading something that scrolled by on his display. He shut the communication down, turning back to Kim. "We have to go."
"What's the sitch?" Kim asked, pushing aside the fight between Will and Ron for the moment.
"There's a situation in Siberia." Will said quickly. "A nuclear silo is apparently under attack."
Kim frowned. "Isn't that a job for their own military?"
"The primary assailant," he retorted calmly, "Was reported as having 'green glowing hands'."
"Shego." Her hands clenched into fists at the thought of a rematch with Doctor Drakken's forces after their less-than-sterling record from the week before. "I just need to change."
"Your mission suit is upstairs in your closet. I will prep the hoverjet in the vehicular bay. Ten minutes, Subbasement Level C."
"Got it." Kim watched him go, and didn't miss the pointed glance he gave Ron and Rufus. She turned to her best friend, who wore a heartbreaking look on his face. "I…"
He waved her explanation off, calling for Rufus. "You have to go." he said simply. "No big."
It looked like he was going to start crying at any moment, and she would have given anything to make him feel better about being left behind. Ultimately, though, Ron 'was' the one who had told her to do this. "Bueno Nacho when I get back?" she asked instead, with a small, humoring smile on her face.
"You know it," he said hollowly.
Kim suddenly remembered something. She reached into her pocket, digging out her trusty blue omni-device. "Here," she said, handing it to Ron, "I want you to have this."
"Your…your Kimmunicator?" he asked incredulously, taking the device from her. It rested in his hands like the holy grail of twenty-first century technology. "Are you sure?"
"You can call me, beep me…Well, you get the idea." she smiled, this time to mask her own sadness. It was just now beginning to sink in that Ron wouldn't be there with her on the mission. "If you ever need anything," she said, grasping him by the shoulders.
"I know," he nodded, patting her hand. Then he gently removed himself from her touch, shooing her away. "You'd better get going before Will somehow manages to get that stick even further up his butt and starts 'really' spazzing."
Ron watched Kim run up the spiral staircase to her room, slamming the door shut behind her. As soon as Rufus had made it across the floor, Ron scooped him up and headed out of Kim's apartment. It didn't take him long to retrace his steps, and soon he was back out onto the street, standing in front of the enormous grey warehouse that served as Kim's new home.
Whereas his face had betrayed sadness before, now it was all business as he pulled the Kimmunicator out of his pocket. He was glad Kim had given it to him; it made what he had planned that much easier. Flicking the switch, he was immediately greeted by Wade's smiling face. "'Bout time, Ron," the techie grinned.
"You know?" Ron had a hunch that, as usual, Wade was already three steps ahead of him.
Of course, he wasn't disappointed. "I have a live, hacked stream of all major GJ communications up on one of my tertiary screens," Wade chucked his thumb towards the back of his mysterious, monitor-filled room. "If they're on it, so am I."
"And now so are we." Ron quickened his pace, heading back towards Dreidleton, where his mission clothes awaited. "Are you ready?"
"Give me twenty minutes." the younger boy told him. Then he frowned, as if having second thoughts. "Ron, are you sure about this? I mean, this might not be a great idea…"
"Double sure, Wade." Ron assured him. Just because he had told Kim to take the Global Justice position didn't mean he trusted them to watch out for her the way he would. He didn't trust 'anyone' with that job, save for his other best friend in his pocket. It wouldn't be easy, but he didn't have any other choice.
Besides, just seeing the look on Will's and Kim's faces would make it all worthwhile.
-