Chapter Six - A Fax from Paris
Neither Kim nor Ron were awoken the next morning, since Shego too did not stir the entire day. Doctors worried she had slipped into a coma, but the resident neurologist assured her colleagues that the woman's brain waves were not those a comatose patient. And so, knowing that they would having nothing to do until Shego woke up, the security officials stationed outside the two teens' room allowed their charges to sleep in. Which was a good thing since their charges hadn't had more than five hours of sleep in the past fourty-eight.
Not once did either of them stir, even with nurses constantly visiting the room to grab a towel or roll of gauze from a cabinet, though Ron wondered later how he managed to stay asleep in such an awkward position. At around four that afternoon, Kim's eyelids finally lifted as she drifted out of the land of Nod and back into reality. Having fallen asleep on the hard plastic seat of the hospital hallway, the fairly soft mattress and warm blanket came as a shock. She knew her hotel room was much better decorated than this drab, unimaginative chamber, and wondered how, and when, she'd been taken here. But when she saw Ron's sleeping form sprawled out on a large armchair with a blanket draped over his torso, her surprise faded. Kim guessed Finch had returned with a room after she'd fallen asleep, and Ron had carried her to the bed.
She was already off the bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes when she remembered she was in a reasonably public place, and so should check if she were properly dressed. Glancing down, she was relieved to see that she was still fully dressed - in one of her favorite outfits that was now crisscrossed in wrinkles, which she knew would be hell to remove. Though the idea of Ron undressing her wasn't the end of the world, it was still a little disturbing. They might be friends, but not the kind that often see each other naked.
Putting those thoughts to the back of her mind, Kim went into the bathroom and splashed some water on her face to fully wake up. Wiping her face off, she heard the door to the hallway open, and someone enter their room.
"Ms. Possible? Are you here?" she heard Hackney call out.
"In the bathroom," she replied, hanging the towel up and stepping into the bedroom. "What's up?"
"There's just been a bomb explosion in Paris," he pronounced gravely. "We think it has something to do with the sightings in the city."
"Was anyone hurt?" Kim asked; concern evident in her voice.
"We think so, but the reports are just coming in now," Hackney answered, looking over to see a snoring Ron turn over in his improvised bed and mumble something in his sleep.
Knowing they needed to get moving, Kim pulled back the shades in front of the room's single window. Ron groaned in displeasure as the light streamed in from the clear, halcyon sky outside, and tried to cover his face with his blanket. Kim jerked the bedspread away from his body, hoping as she did that he too had kept his clothes on during the night, to keep him from falling back asleep. Fortunately - for both of them - he was still fully dressed, but a little ticked off at being so rudely awoken.
"Kim!" he complained. "I was just getting to the good part!"
"Sorry Ron," she apologized. "There's been an attack in Paris - they need us."
"Who? The French?" Ron asked, still half asleep. "Les Franciais - wait, I think that's Spanish. Maybe it's -."
"No, the British," Kim interrupted. "They think it might have something to do with the bad guys in London."
"What kind of something?"
"This kind," Hackney replied, and handed them a sheet of paper. "This was faxed to the British Embassy there moments after the attack. We can't trace the number, but analysts say there's a very strong connection between the letter and the bombing. They assure us it is authentic."
"Where was the bombing?" Kim asked, not bothering to read the note until she had the facts straight from Hackney.
"Paris, the Eiffel Tower," he answered. "Here, I'll show you," he turned around and grabbed the remote for the television suspended from the ceiling in a corner of the room. He turned it on, and flicked through the channels to the BBC, where he rested and cranked up the volume for the two teens to hear the newscaster speak:
"We've just received reports of an explosion beneath the Eiffel Tower in Paris," the woman was saying, holding a hand to her ear as she listened in to the words coming in through the microphone. "Police officials are reporting twenty-two dead, and countless injured by the blast, which occurred at. three-forty-two, Greenwich Mean Time. Eyewitnesses are saying a backpack was seen lying on the steps to one of the Tower's entrances a few minutes before the bomb went off. We don't know yet if it was actually a terrorist attack - nothing conclusive has been said yet by rescue officials or the city's mayor. Nothing yet has been said concerning the structural integrity of the Tower, but there is will be a press conference in the next half hour at the police headquarters."
Hackney turned the volume down once he was sure the woman had no more new information, and turned to Kim and Ron.
"You'll want to look at the note again now," he advised, giving them a moment to re-examine the fax, which read as follows:
THIS MESSAGE IS TO BE DELIVERED TO THE UNITED NATIONS SECRETARY GENERAL:
WE CLAIM ALL RESPONSIBILITY FOT THE ATTACK THIS AFTERNOON, MARCH 13TH, 2003, IN PARIS. WE HAVE DONE THIS TO DEMONSTRATE THE POWER WE HAVE AT OUR FINGERTIPS - AND THAT WE WILL NOT HESITATE TO USE SAID POWER IF NECESSARY. I AND MY TEN OTHER ASSOCIATES HAVE ONLY ONE DEMAND: SEND A MESSAGE TO THE ADDRESS BELOW MAKING ASSURANCES THAT 25 METRIC TONNES OF GOLD BULLION WILL BE HANDED OVER TO US AT A TIME OF OUR CHOOSING.
IF WE DO NOT RECEIVE A REPLY TO THIS MESSAGE BY 3:45 AM, ZULU TIME, WE WILL BE FORCED TO RELEASE CARRIERS OF THE SMALLPOX VIRUS IN 6 MAJOR CITIES AROUND THE WORLD. THESE CARRIERS ARE HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS, AND COMPLETELY INVISIBLE. IF NO MESSAGE ARRIVES, THEY WILL BE RELEASED.
TIME IS SLIPPING AWAY MR. SECRETARY - MAKE USE OF THAT WHICH YOU STILL HAVE.
MR. GRIM
"How do you know it's connected with the sightings?" Kim asked, once she was done with the note.
"The letter mentions ten associates. Save for Shego, there were ten other villains that had been spotted in London," Hackney responded.
"You think they're behind this?" asked Kim doubtfully. "Seems a little unlike their style."
"Yes," Hackney agreed. "Finch thought so too. But this 'Mr. Grim' might be the reason for this unorthodox operation. He could be the reason for the entire thing."
"You mean he's masterminding the whole thing? And the other villains are listening to him?" Kim said, even more skeptical than before. Villains, in her experience, were some of the most independent people she knew. Listening to other's commands was not something they did often - correction: ever. "Not likely - these people don't listen to anyone except the voices in their heads."
"That's what I said too. But Finch is back at the Yard working on a profile, trying to see how something like that could happen," Hackney explained his partner's absence.
"Where's the address?" Kim moved on quickly to her next point of uncertainty about the letter.
"We blanked it out for security reasons," the man replied, shrugging his shoulders to indicate it was someone higher up who'd ordered the deletion. "It's a numbered web address owned by a ghost company. Completely untraceable and risk-free for the criminals."
"So what do we do?" the red haired adolescent said, knowing there was nothing else they could deduce from the letter until they knew more.
"We have no idea at the moment - we're still waiting for orders to come from higher up," the MI5 man admitted.
"What do you think's gonna happen?" Ron asked.
"The Secretary General will probably accept the demand unless we can locate the source and neutralize it. If we can't, then the intelligence organizations will probably start a global search for the terrorists. Either we catch them, or hand over the gold," Hackney answered heavily.
"You don't think this might be a bluff?" Kim cut in.
"If it is - it's a very good one," Hackney responded.
"But how do we know this group even has the disease? What if they really are bluffing?" Kim pressed on, hoping there was some way to prove the criminals really were faking it. The thought of a group of - at the least - mentally unstable individuals having a weapon that powerful was a scary one indeed.
"We don't know. But we can't afford to take a chance - if they aren't, then we'll all be responsible for starting a pandemic," answered Hackney gravely.
"Sounds like hot fun," Ron commented glumly.
"Tell me something I don't know," Kim remarked in sympathy. "Can we get some breakfast, or lunch, or whatever sent up here?" she asked Hackney, who was leafing through some files from his briefcase.
"I'll have some sent up," he replied, snapping the case shut and making for the door. "I've just got to go and check in with my colleague back at HQ. He'll be able to give us a better idea of out plan of action for the next few hours."
"Cool," said Kim and he left the room. "You wanna take a shower or something?" she asked Ron, who smelt a little ripe after two days without having washed.
"Yeah, thanks." Ron grabbed a change of clothes from his bag - which had been conveniently been brought over by an MI5 agent earlier that day - and headed to the bathroom. Kim heard a high pitched yawn coming from his bag, and looked over to see Rufus rising from a makeshift burrow in his owner's clothes.
"Hey Rufus, you sleep alright?" she asked the naked mole rat - who was, like she had done earlier on, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
He nodded in reply, and proceeded to hop out of bed and scurry around the room, searching for something. Finally he stopped, and cried out in despair: "Cheese!"
Kim bent down and picked him up, raising him to her eye height. "Aww, you're hungry," she observed, her voice softening for the rodent like it would for a small child. "You want me to get you some cheese?"
"Yup, yup. Cheese!" the pink rat replied happily. Kim set him down on the bed and glanced outside their room, looking for a likely location for cheese. Seeing none, she decided to ask Hackney when he returned.
"I'll get it for you as soon as Mr. Hackney gets back," she promised, sitting down on the bed next to him. She heard Ron's - off tune - singing from the bathroom as she pulled out last month's Style magazine from his bag and began to page through it. She wondered why in God's name would Ron carry around such a blatantly, well, feminine magazine in his bag. Kim usually put him down for the macho, racecar, dirty joke kind of periodical. Then she reached the main section of that issue, and realized why Ron carried it around in his bag. It was a twenty-four page section on lingerie, and from the looks of the torn and bent pages, he'd looked at it more than a few times.
Kim rolled her eyes, trying not to imagine why Ron kept the magazine with him. But then she remembered the nine hour flight they'd been on the day before, and how boring it had become trying to concentrate on a movie she'd already seen six times. Though she could see why he might have brought it along as something to keep him occupied with, it was still pretty wrong. 'Hey, at least it's not porn,' a voice in the back of her head reminded her. 'You don't even want to think about what he'd need that for.'
"Hey Kim, you need the shower," Ron called out, opening the door to let a giant cloud of steam billow out into the bedroom.
"Sure, be there in a second," she replied hurriedly, jamming the magazine back in her friend's backpack and zipping it shut. She grabbed a pair of black jeans and a long sleeved burgundy shirt from her bag and headed for the still steaming bathroom. Ron was still inside combing his hair, but as soon as Kim began taking off her socks, and prepared to pull of her shirt, he quickly left.
She was completely undressed, and reaching for the shower's tap, when she heard voices outside. Hackney was talking to Ron, and he sounded anxious.
"KP - we gotta go!" her friend called through the door. "Can I come in and get my watch?"
"Wait a moment," she called back, grabbing her clean clothes and throwing them on as quickly as possible. Once she was fully dressed and had given her face a more thorough wash, she opened the door and allowed Ron to enter. Hackney was standing outside, looking restless as he leafed through a new sheet of papers, making notes on some of them.
"What's the sitch?" she asked, sensing something was up.
"We've got to go to number 10," he replied, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"What's that?" Ron inquired as he exited the bathroom and picked up his backpack.
"It's the Prime Minister's house," Kim told him, grabbing her own bag.
"Why does he want to see us?" Ron asked, confused.
"We've just received messages from sources around the world - we're sure it's this Grim person and the ten other villains," Hackney said, motioning for them to follow him into the corridor. "There've been rumors circulating for weeks about some kind of 'villain's conference' for weeks, but no one in MI5 thought it was a credible threat. But a Ukrainian man has just confirmed it - he worked with one of them, and heard it mentioned about two weeks ago. So the PM wants to speak with us; get our take on the situation, before he talks with the Secretary General about what to do."
"Why just the Prime Minister?" said Kim as they walked down the hallway to the hospital's main entrance. "Isn't this a global decision - shouldn't the Secretary talk to other leaders too?"
"He has - but since the villains are probably in Britain at the moment, it's mainly Britain's problem," Hackney explained. "We can request help from other countries, but it's up to us to deal with it."
"Ahh," was all Kim said as they turned a corner and passed through a pair of sliding doors to the atrium of the hospital. Outside, Kim could see a government issue sedan waiting with a driver by the passenger's door to pick them up.
"Ms. Possible!" a voice called out behind them as the trio reached the main doors. It was Dr. Chung.
"Ms. Possible, wait!" he heaved, stopping in front of them after having run from his station near one of the main operating theaters to reach them.
"What is it?" said Kim, waiting for the reply as he caught his breath.
"It's Shego. She's awake, and she wants to talk to you."
Author's Note: Sorry for the HUGE delay in updates, I'll try to do better from now on.
Neither Kim nor Ron were awoken the next morning, since Shego too did not stir the entire day. Doctors worried she had slipped into a coma, but the resident neurologist assured her colleagues that the woman's brain waves were not those a comatose patient. And so, knowing that they would having nothing to do until Shego woke up, the security officials stationed outside the two teens' room allowed their charges to sleep in. Which was a good thing since their charges hadn't had more than five hours of sleep in the past fourty-eight.
Not once did either of them stir, even with nurses constantly visiting the room to grab a towel or roll of gauze from a cabinet, though Ron wondered later how he managed to stay asleep in such an awkward position. At around four that afternoon, Kim's eyelids finally lifted as she drifted out of the land of Nod and back into reality. Having fallen asleep on the hard plastic seat of the hospital hallway, the fairly soft mattress and warm blanket came as a shock. She knew her hotel room was much better decorated than this drab, unimaginative chamber, and wondered how, and when, she'd been taken here. But when she saw Ron's sleeping form sprawled out on a large armchair with a blanket draped over his torso, her surprise faded. Kim guessed Finch had returned with a room after she'd fallen asleep, and Ron had carried her to the bed.
She was already off the bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes when she remembered she was in a reasonably public place, and so should check if she were properly dressed. Glancing down, she was relieved to see that she was still fully dressed - in one of her favorite outfits that was now crisscrossed in wrinkles, which she knew would be hell to remove. Though the idea of Ron undressing her wasn't the end of the world, it was still a little disturbing. They might be friends, but not the kind that often see each other naked.
Putting those thoughts to the back of her mind, Kim went into the bathroom and splashed some water on her face to fully wake up. Wiping her face off, she heard the door to the hallway open, and someone enter their room.
"Ms. Possible? Are you here?" she heard Hackney call out.
"In the bathroom," she replied, hanging the towel up and stepping into the bedroom. "What's up?"
"There's just been a bomb explosion in Paris," he pronounced gravely. "We think it has something to do with the sightings in the city."
"Was anyone hurt?" Kim asked; concern evident in her voice.
"We think so, but the reports are just coming in now," Hackney answered, looking over to see a snoring Ron turn over in his improvised bed and mumble something in his sleep.
Knowing they needed to get moving, Kim pulled back the shades in front of the room's single window. Ron groaned in displeasure as the light streamed in from the clear, halcyon sky outside, and tried to cover his face with his blanket. Kim jerked the bedspread away from his body, hoping as she did that he too had kept his clothes on during the night, to keep him from falling back asleep. Fortunately - for both of them - he was still fully dressed, but a little ticked off at being so rudely awoken.
"Kim!" he complained. "I was just getting to the good part!"
"Sorry Ron," she apologized. "There's been an attack in Paris - they need us."
"Who? The French?" Ron asked, still half asleep. "Les Franciais - wait, I think that's Spanish. Maybe it's -."
"No, the British," Kim interrupted. "They think it might have something to do with the bad guys in London."
"What kind of something?"
"This kind," Hackney replied, and handed them a sheet of paper. "This was faxed to the British Embassy there moments after the attack. We can't trace the number, but analysts say there's a very strong connection between the letter and the bombing. They assure us it is authentic."
"Where was the bombing?" Kim asked, not bothering to read the note until she had the facts straight from Hackney.
"Paris, the Eiffel Tower," he answered. "Here, I'll show you," he turned around and grabbed the remote for the television suspended from the ceiling in a corner of the room. He turned it on, and flicked through the channels to the BBC, where he rested and cranked up the volume for the two teens to hear the newscaster speak:
"We've just received reports of an explosion beneath the Eiffel Tower in Paris," the woman was saying, holding a hand to her ear as she listened in to the words coming in through the microphone. "Police officials are reporting twenty-two dead, and countless injured by the blast, which occurred at. three-forty-two, Greenwich Mean Time. Eyewitnesses are saying a backpack was seen lying on the steps to one of the Tower's entrances a few minutes before the bomb went off. We don't know yet if it was actually a terrorist attack - nothing conclusive has been said yet by rescue officials or the city's mayor. Nothing yet has been said concerning the structural integrity of the Tower, but there is will be a press conference in the next half hour at the police headquarters."
Hackney turned the volume down once he was sure the woman had no more new information, and turned to Kim and Ron.
"You'll want to look at the note again now," he advised, giving them a moment to re-examine the fax, which read as follows:
THIS MESSAGE IS TO BE DELIVERED TO THE UNITED NATIONS SECRETARY GENERAL:
WE CLAIM ALL RESPONSIBILITY FOT THE ATTACK THIS AFTERNOON, MARCH 13TH, 2003, IN PARIS. WE HAVE DONE THIS TO DEMONSTRATE THE POWER WE HAVE AT OUR FINGERTIPS - AND THAT WE WILL NOT HESITATE TO USE SAID POWER IF NECESSARY. I AND MY TEN OTHER ASSOCIATES HAVE ONLY ONE DEMAND: SEND A MESSAGE TO THE ADDRESS BELOW MAKING ASSURANCES THAT 25 METRIC TONNES OF GOLD BULLION WILL BE HANDED OVER TO US AT A TIME OF OUR CHOOSING.
IF WE DO NOT RECEIVE A REPLY TO THIS MESSAGE BY 3:45 AM, ZULU TIME, WE WILL BE FORCED TO RELEASE CARRIERS OF THE SMALLPOX VIRUS IN 6 MAJOR CITIES AROUND THE WORLD. THESE CARRIERS ARE HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS, AND COMPLETELY INVISIBLE. IF NO MESSAGE ARRIVES, THEY WILL BE RELEASED.
TIME IS SLIPPING AWAY MR. SECRETARY - MAKE USE OF THAT WHICH YOU STILL HAVE.
MR. GRIM
"How do you know it's connected with the sightings?" Kim asked, once she was done with the note.
"The letter mentions ten associates. Save for Shego, there were ten other villains that had been spotted in London," Hackney responded.
"You think they're behind this?" asked Kim doubtfully. "Seems a little unlike their style."
"Yes," Hackney agreed. "Finch thought so too. But this 'Mr. Grim' might be the reason for this unorthodox operation. He could be the reason for the entire thing."
"You mean he's masterminding the whole thing? And the other villains are listening to him?" Kim said, even more skeptical than before. Villains, in her experience, were some of the most independent people she knew. Listening to other's commands was not something they did often - correction: ever. "Not likely - these people don't listen to anyone except the voices in their heads."
"That's what I said too. But Finch is back at the Yard working on a profile, trying to see how something like that could happen," Hackney explained his partner's absence.
"Where's the address?" Kim moved on quickly to her next point of uncertainty about the letter.
"We blanked it out for security reasons," the man replied, shrugging his shoulders to indicate it was someone higher up who'd ordered the deletion. "It's a numbered web address owned by a ghost company. Completely untraceable and risk-free for the criminals."
"So what do we do?" the red haired adolescent said, knowing there was nothing else they could deduce from the letter until they knew more.
"We have no idea at the moment - we're still waiting for orders to come from higher up," the MI5 man admitted.
"What do you think's gonna happen?" Ron asked.
"The Secretary General will probably accept the demand unless we can locate the source and neutralize it. If we can't, then the intelligence organizations will probably start a global search for the terrorists. Either we catch them, or hand over the gold," Hackney answered heavily.
"You don't think this might be a bluff?" Kim cut in.
"If it is - it's a very good one," Hackney responded.
"But how do we know this group even has the disease? What if they really are bluffing?" Kim pressed on, hoping there was some way to prove the criminals really were faking it. The thought of a group of - at the least - mentally unstable individuals having a weapon that powerful was a scary one indeed.
"We don't know. But we can't afford to take a chance - if they aren't, then we'll all be responsible for starting a pandemic," answered Hackney gravely.
"Sounds like hot fun," Ron commented glumly.
"Tell me something I don't know," Kim remarked in sympathy. "Can we get some breakfast, or lunch, or whatever sent up here?" she asked Hackney, who was leafing through some files from his briefcase.
"I'll have some sent up," he replied, snapping the case shut and making for the door. "I've just got to go and check in with my colleague back at HQ. He'll be able to give us a better idea of out plan of action for the next few hours."
"Cool," said Kim and he left the room. "You wanna take a shower or something?" she asked Ron, who smelt a little ripe after two days without having washed.
"Yeah, thanks." Ron grabbed a change of clothes from his bag - which had been conveniently been brought over by an MI5 agent earlier that day - and headed to the bathroom. Kim heard a high pitched yawn coming from his bag, and looked over to see Rufus rising from a makeshift burrow in his owner's clothes.
"Hey Rufus, you sleep alright?" she asked the naked mole rat - who was, like she had done earlier on, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
He nodded in reply, and proceeded to hop out of bed and scurry around the room, searching for something. Finally he stopped, and cried out in despair: "Cheese!"
Kim bent down and picked him up, raising him to her eye height. "Aww, you're hungry," she observed, her voice softening for the rodent like it would for a small child. "You want me to get you some cheese?"
"Yup, yup. Cheese!" the pink rat replied happily. Kim set him down on the bed and glanced outside their room, looking for a likely location for cheese. Seeing none, she decided to ask Hackney when he returned.
"I'll get it for you as soon as Mr. Hackney gets back," she promised, sitting down on the bed next to him. She heard Ron's - off tune - singing from the bathroom as she pulled out last month's Style magazine from his bag and began to page through it. She wondered why in God's name would Ron carry around such a blatantly, well, feminine magazine in his bag. Kim usually put him down for the macho, racecar, dirty joke kind of periodical. Then she reached the main section of that issue, and realized why Ron carried it around in his bag. It was a twenty-four page section on lingerie, and from the looks of the torn and bent pages, he'd looked at it more than a few times.
Kim rolled her eyes, trying not to imagine why Ron kept the magazine with him. But then she remembered the nine hour flight they'd been on the day before, and how boring it had become trying to concentrate on a movie she'd already seen six times. Though she could see why he might have brought it along as something to keep him occupied with, it was still pretty wrong. 'Hey, at least it's not porn,' a voice in the back of her head reminded her. 'You don't even want to think about what he'd need that for.'
"Hey Kim, you need the shower," Ron called out, opening the door to let a giant cloud of steam billow out into the bedroom.
"Sure, be there in a second," she replied hurriedly, jamming the magazine back in her friend's backpack and zipping it shut. She grabbed a pair of black jeans and a long sleeved burgundy shirt from her bag and headed for the still steaming bathroom. Ron was still inside combing his hair, but as soon as Kim began taking off her socks, and prepared to pull of her shirt, he quickly left.
She was completely undressed, and reaching for the shower's tap, when she heard voices outside. Hackney was talking to Ron, and he sounded anxious.
"KP - we gotta go!" her friend called through the door. "Can I come in and get my watch?"
"Wait a moment," she called back, grabbing her clean clothes and throwing them on as quickly as possible. Once she was fully dressed and had given her face a more thorough wash, she opened the door and allowed Ron to enter. Hackney was standing outside, looking restless as he leafed through a new sheet of papers, making notes on some of them.
"What's the sitch?" she asked, sensing something was up.
"We've got to go to number 10," he replied, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"What's that?" Ron inquired as he exited the bathroom and picked up his backpack.
"It's the Prime Minister's house," Kim told him, grabbing her own bag.
"Why does he want to see us?" Ron asked, confused.
"We've just received messages from sources around the world - we're sure it's this Grim person and the ten other villains," Hackney said, motioning for them to follow him into the corridor. "There've been rumors circulating for weeks about some kind of 'villain's conference' for weeks, but no one in MI5 thought it was a credible threat. But a Ukrainian man has just confirmed it - he worked with one of them, and heard it mentioned about two weeks ago. So the PM wants to speak with us; get our take on the situation, before he talks with the Secretary General about what to do."
"Why just the Prime Minister?" said Kim as they walked down the hallway to the hospital's main entrance. "Isn't this a global decision - shouldn't the Secretary talk to other leaders too?"
"He has - but since the villains are probably in Britain at the moment, it's mainly Britain's problem," Hackney explained. "We can request help from other countries, but it's up to us to deal with it."
"Ahh," was all Kim said as they turned a corner and passed through a pair of sliding doors to the atrium of the hospital. Outside, Kim could see a government issue sedan waiting with a driver by the passenger's door to pick them up.
"Ms. Possible!" a voice called out behind them as the trio reached the main doors. It was Dr. Chung.
"Ms. Possible, wait!" he heaved, stopping in front of them after having run from his station near one of the main operating theaters to reach them.
"What is it?" said Kim, waiting for the reply as he caught his breath.
"It's Shego. She's awake, and she wants to talk to you."
Author's Note: Sorry for the HUGE delay in updates, I'll try to do better from now on.