Chapter II
6:00 am had been bad, but when the phone rang at 5:00, things were just getting ridiculous. Ron didn't bother to open his eyes, simply feeling around the unfamiliar surface of the hotel room desk until his hand came in contact with the receiver. He yanked it out of its holster with force, pulling it towards him as he rolled over. Unfortunately, the pull had set the phone's cradle in motion, and it landed squarely on Ron's head.
"OW!" he screeched, bolting upright and smacking his head against the reading light the protruded from the ceiling above the bed, "Ouch! Oh... oh."
A voice rang out of the phone, "Hello? Hello, is everything ok?"
"Ah, yeah," Ron replied, holding the phone tightly to his ear with his right hand while he caressed his newly formed bruises with his left. "Just some phone trouble."
"Alright, then," Brigsby answered, sighing noticeably. "Let me shoot it to you straight, Mr. Stoppable. I don't know how you got picked for this assignment, and I don't know what in your life caused your brain to get wired the way it did, but as long as I'm in charge of getting you ready for this mission, you are going to start listening to me. We are not going to chat about nachos; we are not going to stop to feed the rat. We are going to work until you can somehow manage to do the insanely simple tasks I'm asking of you."
"And you called me at five to tell me all this?"
"You better believe it. I've spent two days trying to teach you how to behave at a formal function and be an appropriate escort for the Princess, but it seems if I look away for two seconds you either asleep or eating something. You're not just a body guard, you are under cover! You need to look and act the part!"
Ron yawned and lay back down in his bed. "Hey, I'm the guy I am, I can work with ya, but I got my own limits."
"Well, you better hope that those limits conform to your obligations."
"I don't conform to anything."
"So I noticed. I expect you to meet me in the hotel ballroom, wearing your tuxedo in 30 minutes. You got me?" Brigsby asked sternly.
"Gotcha," Ron replied weakly, "when does she get here anyway?"
"Four more days."
"Four Days!" Ron exclaimed, again sitting upright and hitting his skull on the light fixture above the bed. "Ooooh."
"I'll see you in half an hour."
******
Kim Possible was surprised by the loneliness she felt. Things just were not the same without Ron there. It wasn't that she loved him... at least not as a boyfriend. He was almost family to her, a strange creature that was closer than a friend but not a romance. And with him gone for three days, she was beginning to feel like a piece of her was missing.
****** The beeping of her Communicator broke her thoughts. "Hey, Wade, what's the sitch?" "Kim, we got a problem. A big problem. Drakken is up to something. I don't know exactly what he plans to do with it, but he just bought a submarine."
"He did what?" Kim asked.
"Bought a submarine. A Russian Kilo class to be exact. I don't know how he got that kind of money, those things are hundred's of millions-"
"And that's all we know?"
"Pretty much. Except we do know where it is. He's hiding it in a covered dry dock outside of Baltimore. I don't know what he's doing, but I'd guess he's modifying it for some crazy scheme.
"Ok, so Ron and I need to get in there, figure out what's going on, and then take whatever he is building out?"
"Where is Ron anyway," Wade asked, "I haven't heard from him for a couple days?"
"And that upsets you why?"
"Good point... but, where is he?"
"Uh, well, something to do with the CIA."
"The CIA? As in the agency?" Wade asked, eyes widening in surprise.
"Yeah... he didn't seem to have a clue what was going on when I talked to him. Not that that is surprising, but..."
"They must have lowered their hiring standards or something. I'll let you know if I can dig anything up. Until then, see what you can do about Drakken."
******
"So this fork is for the salad only. What a waste." Ron glanced at the array of silverware before him. "You don't suppose we could just stick with that one big fork?"
"We have the rest of today, tomorrow, and the two following days to get this figured out. You need to stop doodling around and focus," Brigsby announced over the ringing of his cell phone. Excuse me, I need to take this."
He put the small phone to his ear, and nodded, repeating "Uh-huh" a number of times before saying "Good, he can be your problem for a while. Thanks." With that, Brigsby hung-up and dropped the phone back into his pocket.
"Looks like we're going to need to cut this short... Princess has moved her arrival time up a day, so we need to conduct the mission briefing now rather than tonight."
"Whew. I could use a break."
******
Deputy Director Melbourne stood at the podium in the conference room, which though built to seat 45, contained only himself, Ron, Richard Brigsby, and Rufus, who was sitting comfortably on Ron's lap.
"Sorry for the change," Melbourne began, "but I figured it's best to get this over with as soon as possible."
"Ok, well, let's roll," Ron announced, crossing his legs. "Anyone got popcorn?"
Brigsby jammed his elbow into Ron's ribs, making the blonde teen gasp.
"What was that for?"
"Popcorn, at a secret briefing?"
"Actually, Mr. Brigsby, we could always give it a try. But Ron, I'd appreciate if we can continue without popcorn for now," Melbourne said, smiling slightly.
"That'll do."
"Good, let's begin. As I explained, Ron, you will be Special Protective Agent to Princess Jenna Kilmen during her visit to the US. As such, you will be posing as an escort. Not a boyfriend, an escort. I need to stress that point," Melbourne said, clicking a remote that turned on a slid projector.
A picture of a young blonde girl, with smooth skin, beautiful brown eyes, and an enchanting smile appeared on the screen.
"Purtty," announced Rufus.
"You got that right little guy!" Ron exclaimed.
Melbourne was not amused by Ron's enthusiasm. "Again, an escort. A male who fills in at social events since she does not have a boyfriend. Not a lover, not a boyfriend, not a soul mate. You are undercover as an escort."
:"I know," Ron said, his voice thick with disappointment.
"The Princess is 18 years old, and was born to Queen Jarona and King Bilt. She is quite intelligent, earning high marks in private school before she left to become the ruler of the country. We believe that she loves the formal occasions and royal attention she gets being the Princess, so we'll be counting on Mr. Brigsby to teach you the proper way to behave in her presence.
"I can't escape my doom, can I?" Brigsby muttered.
Melbourne ignored him. "I have a file of more information for you to read up on during your spare time that should ensure everything goes smoothly," Melbourne said, handing Ron a two-inch thick folder which he accepted with a bit more than mild trepidation.
"Gah! Look at the size of this thing. Is it at least double spaced?"
"No, we are trying to cut down on paper usage." Melbourne replied.
"Any pictures?"
"No"
"Graphs?"
"No"
"Charts"
"No"
"And you want me to read it?"
"Yes."
"You better move on before his head explodes," Brigsby snickered, earning a nasty glance from his boss.
"Seriously, he's right," Ron added.
"OK," Melbourne said, a bit confused himself. "The itinerary is listed here, as are the various security precautions," he said, holding out another thick pile of documents."
Ron accepted the pile with a small amount of hesitation. "That's it, right?"
"Just a bit more. Here are technical diagrams of the hotel you both will be staying in as well as the various buildings you'll be visiting. Here are a number of abbreviated bios on some other dignitaries you may encounter, and here's some information about the agents you may encounter."
Ron watched in horror as the stack of paperwork continued to grow, his jaw dropping in shock. Rufus, finding the whole thing amusing, rolled onto his back and started cackling.
"...and here is a file on the estranged relative who is causing all the concern in the first place." Melbourne dropped this file squarely on Ron's lap. Ron flipped the cover and started to stammer, his eyes growing wider and his mouth opening in complete shock and surprise.
"Ah... ah... ah... ah.. ah..."
"What is it, boy, he knock the wind out of you when he dropped the book," Brigsby said sarcastically.
"Is something wrong, Ron, do you recognize him or something?"
"I... ah... I... ah... well...," Ron was hyperventilating, and pulled the photo out of the file, shoving it into Melbourne's face. "Ma-ma-ma-Monkey! That's Lord Monkey Fist, dude!"
"Lord Monty Fisque," Melbourne corrected, "is that a problem?"
Ron finally started to get himself under control. "I, ah, well, he's sort of my personal arch nemesis."
"What?"
"He, ah, we, Rufus and I that is, have something that he wants."
"And that would be?" Melbourne asked.
" "MYSTICAL MONKEY POWERS," Ron screamed. Rufus stood up and his hind legs and chirped his agreement.
"I've been telling you this kid's a nut," Brigsby began, "and now you can see the sort of stuff I've been dealing with. It's time to get in a real agent... they might not be able to go undercover as an escort, but one of our guys can certainly be a body guard."
"No," Melbourne yelled, irritated that Brigsby would openly question his judgment and insult an agent at the same time. "We will proceed as planned," he added in a calmer voice.
******
By the time Kim got to Baltimore, the moon was high in the evening sky, its rays diffracting slightly in the misty sky. The trip from the airport to downtown was short, the rush hour long since being over. The dry dock was on the edge of the city, covered by a building that looked like an old warehouse.
Kim scouted around the exterior walls, looking for the best means of entrance. No windows and very few doors meant very few options. Then she saw her way in. She didn't like it, but it was the best option she had.
Carefully, she pulled back a manhole cover and dropped into a storm drain. Based on the schematics Wade had shown her, the storm drain connected to an overflow used to empty the dry dock. If she could get through the overflow, she would come out right next to the submarine, without anyone the wiser.
******
"Can you believe it Rufus... we're up against Monkey Fist again. That guy never quits," Ron said, sitting down on the hotel room bed and looking at the pink rodent relaxing on the chair next to it.
"Uh-huh," Rufus squeaked, jumping from the chair to the bed and sitting down next to Ron. "Monkey."
"I guess I better start reading some of this stuff. How bad could it be anyway," Ron asked aloud as he swung his legs up onto the bed, laying down with the files stacked sloppily on his left.
"Read me," Rufus squeaked. Ron didn't know why the rodent was interested in the papers, but figured it was best not to argue.
"Alright, let's see. Here we go, page one: Notification of Classification, Releases for Operational Purposes, Designation of Appointed Classifying Authorities and index of pertinent parties," he read. "Doesn't sound too bad," he told Rufus, smiling weakly. The mole rat was paying close attention and seemed enthralled with the technical language.
"Section 1.1, Notification and Restrictions of Classification," Ron continued. "The material contained here in is collected from various sources of the United States Government and is the sole property and responsibility of the Central Intelligence Agency. It will not be shared with any person or party, foreign nor domestic, without the expressed consent of a classifying authority or designee of the President of the United States. See section 1.4, subpart C, for a list of current classifying authorities."
Ron yawned. "This is heavy stuff. I think we could use a snack. I got a bag of chips in my backpack over there; you want to go grab em' Rufus. And cheese dip in the suitcase, next to the chocolates."
Rufus squeaked in compliance and ran across the room, eagerly grabbing the bag of chips in his mouth and towing it across the room back to Ron before repeating a similar procedure with the dip.
"Thanks, boy," Ron said, tearing open the bag and shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. "Let's see what else we got. Why don't we skip the babble," Ron said, throwing the first dozen pages on the floor, "and cut to the good stuff."
******
Kim stepped quietly out of the massive pipe that served as the primary means to empty the dry dock, feeling grimy after wading waste deep through salt water. The submarine was directly in front of her, and the scene was hardly quiet.
Workers were busy installing massive antennas on the top of the vessel, as well as a number of satellite dishes. It looked like a mobile television station, and Kim immediately had a sinking feeling. The situation was unlike anything she had faced before. There were far too many workers for her to just walk in, and she had no idea what she could do even if she had free reign. Nothing she had would do any permanent damage to the submarine.
Her train of thought was abruptly halted as a voice behind her called out: "Kim Possible!"
Kim spun around, seeing a tall blue man looking down on her from the deck of the submarine above her. Work had ground to a halt as all eyes focused on her.
"How dare you!" exclaimed Dr. Drakken, holding up his fist for emphasis. "Get her!"
In an instant, she was surrounded. A guard walked towards her, holding out a pair of handcuffs. She knew there was no way she could stand up against them all, but she was going to go down fighting.
Kim launched herself straight ahead, pushing the guard with the handcuffs back into the man behind him. Both of them toppled to the ground. She then felt a hand on her back and quickly swung around, raising her leg and delivering a devastating side kick to the henchman's rib case. Two more of Drakken's red-clad cronies came at her, one form each side. Kim jumped, extending both legs and hitting both men squarely in the chest with her heels. She dropped down to the ground in a split, but quickly recovered. Another guard was on top of her, and she swung her right leg down beneath him, catching his ankles and sending her wheeling. Then she realized, to late, he had been a distraction.
The weight of three large guards came down on top of her almost instantly, and Kim felt herself forced to the ground, the air forcibly expelled from her lungs. A twinge of pain ran through her spine. She tried to roll over, but the men held her firmly to the ground. She then felt the cool metal of handcuffs being slipped around her wrists.
6:00 am had been bad, but when the phone rang at 5:00, things were just getting ridiculous. Ron didn't bother to open his eyes, simply feeling around the unfamiliar surface of the hotel room desk until his hand came in contact with the receiver. He yanked it out of its holster with force, pulling it towards him as he rolled over. Unfortunately, the pull had set the phone's cradle in motion, and it landed squarely on Ron's head.
"OW!" he screeched, bolting upright and smacking his head against the reading light the protruded from the ceiling above the bed, "Ouch! Oh... oh."
A voice rang out of the phone, "Hello? Hello, is everything ok?"
"Ah, yeah," Ron replied, holding the phone tightly to his ear with his right hand while he caressed his newly formed bruises with his left. "Just some phone trouble."
"Alright, then," Brigsby answered, sighing noticeably. "Let me shoot it to you straight, Mr. Stoppable. I don't know how you got picked for this assignment, and I don't know what in your life caused your brain to get wired the way it did, but as long as I'm in charge of getting you ready for this mission, you are going to start listening to me. We are not going to chat about nachos; we are not going to stop to feed the rat. We are going to work until you can somehow manage to do the insanely simple tasks I'm asking of you."
"And you called me at five to tell me all this?"
"You better believe it. I've spent two days trying to teach you how to behave at a formal function and be an appropriate escort for the Princess, but it seems if I look away for two seconds you either asleep or eating something. You're not just a body guard, you are under cover! You need to look and act the part!"
Ron yawned and lay back down in his bed. "Hey, I'm the guy I am, I can work with ya, but I got my own limits."
"Well, you better hope that those limits conform to your obligations."
"I don't conform to anything."
"So I noticed. I expect you to meet me in the hotel ballroom, wearing your tuxedo in 30 minutes. You got me?" Brigsby asked sternly.
"Gotcha," Ron replied weakly, "when does she get here anyway?"
"Four more days."
"Four Days!" Ron exclaimed, again sitting upright and hitting his skull on the light fixture above the bed. "Ooooh."
"I'll see you in half an hour."
******
Kim Possible was surprised by the loneliness she felt. Things just were not the same without Ron there. It wasn't that she loved him... at least not as a boyfriend. He was almost family to her, a strange creature that was closer than a friend but not a romance. And with him gone for three days, she was beginning to feel like a piece of her was missing.
****** The beeping of her Communicator broke her thoughts. "Hey, Wade, what's the sitch?" "Kim, we got a problem. A big problem. Drakken is up to something. I don't know exactly what he plans to do with it, but he just bought a submarine."
"He did what?" Kim asked.
"Bought a submarine. A Russian Kilo class to be exact. I don't know how he got that kind of money, those things are hundred's of millions-"
"And that's all we know?"
"Pretty much. Except we do know where it is. He's hiding it in a covered dry dock outside of Baltimore. I don't know what he's doing, but I'd guess he's modifying it for some crazy scheme.
"Ok, so Ron and I need to get in there, figure out what's going on, and then take whatever he is building out?"
"Where is Ron anyway," Wade asked, "I haven't heard from him for a couple days?"
"And that upsets you why?"
"Good point... but, where is he?"
"Uh, well, something to do with the CIA."
"The CIA? As in the agency?" Wade asked, eyes widening in surprise.
"Yeah... he didn't seem to have a clue what was going on when I talked to him. Not that that is surprising, but..."
"They must have lowered their hiring standards or something. I'll let you know if I can dig anything up. Until then, see what you can do about Drakken."
******
"So this fork is for the salad only. What a waste." Ron glanced at the array of silverware before him. "You don't suppose we could just stick with that one big fork?"
"We have the rest of today, tomorrow, and the two following days to get this figured out. You need to stop doodling around and focus," Brigsby announced over the ringing of his cell phone. Excuse me, I need to take this."
He put the small phone to his ear, and nodded, repeating "Uh-huh" a number of times before saying "Good, he can be your problem for a while. Thanks." With that, Brigsby hung-up and dropped the phone back into his pocket.
"Looks like we're going to need to cut this short... Princess has moved her arrival time up a day, so we need to conduct the mission briefing now rather than tonight."
"Whew. I could use a break."
******
Deputy Director Melbourne stood at the podium in the conference room, which though built to seat 45, contained only himself, Ron, Richard Brigsby, and Rufus, who was sitting comfortably on Ron's lap.
"Sorry for the change," Melbourne began, "but I figured it's best to get this over with as soon as possible."
"Ok, well, let's roll," Ron announced, crossing his legs. "Anyone got popcorn?"
Brigsby jammed his elbow into Ron's ribs, making the blonde teen gasp.
"What was that for?"
"Popcorn, at a secret briefing?"
"Actually, Mr. Brigsby, we could always give it a try. But Ron, I'd appreciate if we can continue without popcorn for now," Melbourne said, smiling slightly.
"That'll do."
"Good, let's begin. As I explained, Ron, you will be Special Protective Agent to Princess Jenna Kilmen during her visit to the US. As such, you will be posing as an escort. Not a boyfriend, an escort. I need to stress that point," Melbourne said, clicking a remote that turned on a slid projector.
A picture of a young blonde girl, with smooth skin, beautiful brown eyes, and an enchanting smile appeared on the screen.
"Purtty," announced Rufus.
"You got that right little guy!" Ron exclaimed.
Melbourne was not amused by Ron's enthusiasm. "Again, an escort. A male who fills in at social events since she does not have a boyfriend. Not a lover, not a boyfriend, not a soul mate. You are undercover as an escort."
:"I know," Ron said, his voice thick with disappointment.
"The Princess is 18 years old, and was born to Queen Jarona and King Bilt. She is quite intelligent, earning high marks in private school before she left to become the ruler of the country. We believe that she loves the formal occasions and royal attention she gets being the Princess, so we'll be counting on Mr. Brigsby to teach you the proper way to behave in her presence.
"I can't escape my doom, can I?" Brigsby muttered.
Melbourne ignored him. "I have a file of more information for you to read up on during your spare time that should ensure everything goes smoothly," Melbourne said, handing Ron a two-inch thick folder which he accepted with a bit more than mild trepidation.
"Gah! Look at the size of this thing. Is it at least double spaced?"
"No, we are trying to cut down on paper usage." Melbourne replied.
"Any pictures?"
"No"
"Graphs?"
"No"
"Charts"
"No"
"And you want me to read it?"
"Yes."
"You better move on before his head explodes," Brigsby snickered, earning a nasty glance from his boss.
"Seriously, he's right," Ron added.
"OK," Melbourne said, a bit confused himself. "The itinerary is listed here, as are the various security precautions," he said, holding out another thick pile of documents."
Ron accepted the pile with a small amount of hesitation. "That's it, right?"
"Just a bit more. Here are technical diagrams of the hotel you both will be staying in as well as the various buildings you'll be visiting. Here are a number of abbreviated bios on some other dignitaries you may encounter, and here's some information about the agents you may encounter."
Ron watched in horror as the stack of paperwork continued to grow, his jaw dropping in shock. Rufus, finding the whole thing amusing, rolled onto his back and started cackling.
"...and here is a file on the estranged relative who is causing all the concern in the first place." Melbourne dropped this file squarely on Ron's lap. Ron flipped the cover and started to stammer, his eyes growing wider and his mouth opening in complete shock and surprise.
"Ah... ah... ah... ah.. ah..."
"What is it, boy, he knock the wind out of you when he dropped the book," Brigsby said sarcastically.
"Is something wrong, Ron, do you recognize him or something?"
"I... ah... I... ah... well...," Ron was hyperventilating, and pulled the photo out of the file, shoving it into Melbourne's face. "Ma-ma-ma-Monkey! That's Lord Monkey Fist, dude!"
"Lord Monty Fisque," Melbourne corrected, "is that a problem?"
Ron finally started to get himself under control. "I, ah, well, he's sort of my personal arch nemesis."
"What?"
"He, ah, we, Rufus and I that is, have something that he wants."
"And that would be?" Melbourne asked.
" "MYSTICAL MONKEY POWERS," Ron screamed. Rufus stood up and his hind legs and chirped his agreement.
"I've been telling you this kid's a nut," Brigsby began, "and now you can see the sort of stuff I've been dealing with. It's time to get in a real agent... they might not be able to go undercover as an escort, but one of our guys can certainly be a body guard."
"No," Melbourne yelled, irritated that Brigsby would openly question his judgment and insult an agent at the same time. "We will proceed as planned," he added in a calmer voice.
******
By the time Kim got to Baltimore, the moon was high in the evening sky, its rays diffracting slightly in the misty sky. The trip from the airport to downtown was short, the rush hour long since being over. The dry dock was on the edge of the city, covered by a building that looked like an old warehouse.
Kim scouted around the exterior walls, looking for the best means of entrance. No windows and very few doors meant very few options. Then she saw her way in. She didn't like it, but it was the best option she had.
Carefully, she pulled back a manhole cover and dropped into a storm drain. Based on the schematics Wade had shown her, the storm drain connected to an overflow used to empty the dry dock. If she could get through the overflow, she would come out right next to the submarine, without anyone the wiser.
******
"Can you believe it Rufus... we're up against Monkey Fist again. That guy never quits," Ron said, sitting down on the hotel room bed and looking at the pink rodent relaxing on the chair next to it.
"Uh-huh," Rufus squeaked, jumping from the chair to the bed and sitting down next to Ron. "Monkey."
"I guess I better start reading some of this stuff. How bad could it be anyway," Ron asked aloud as he swung his legs up onto the bed, laying down with the files stacked sloppily on his left.
"Read me," Rufus squeaked. Ron didn't know why the rodent was interested in the papers, but figured it was best not to argue.
"Alright, let's see. Here we go, page one: Notification of Classification, Releases for Operational Purposes, Designation of Appointed Classifying Authorities and index of pertinent parties," he read. "Doesn't sound too bad," he told Rufus, smiling weakly. The mole rat was paying close attention and seemed enthralled with the technical language.
"Section 1.1, Notification and Restrictions of Classification," Ron continued. "The material contained here in is collected from various sources of the United States Government and is the sole property and responsibility of the Central Intelligence Agency. It will not be shared with any person or party, foreign nor domestic, without the expressed consent of a classifying authority or designee of the President of the United States. See section 1.4, subpart C, for a list of current classifying authorities."
Ron yawned. "This is heavy stuff. I think we could use a snack. I got a bag of chips in my backpack over there; you want to go grab em' Rufus. And cheese dip in the suitcase, next to the chocolates."
Rufus squeaked in compliance and ran across the room, eagerly grabbing the bag of chips in his mouth and towing it across the room back to Ron before repeating a similar procedure with the dip.
"Thanks, boy," Ron said, tearing open the bag and shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. "Let's see what else we got. Why don't we skip the babble," Ron said, throwing the first dozen pages on the floor, "and cut to the good stuff."
******
Kim stepped quietly out of the massive pipe that served as the primary means to empty the dry dock, feeling grimy after wading waste deep through salt water. The submarine was directly in front of her, and the scene was hardly quiet.
Workers were busy installing massive antennas on the top of the vessel, as well as a number of satellite dishes. It looked like a mobile television station, and Kim immediately had a sinking feeling. The situation was unlike anything she had faced before. There were far too many workers for her to just walk in, and she had no idea what she could do even if she had free reign. Nothing she had would do any permanent damage to the submarine.
Her train of thought was abruptly halted as a voice behind her called out: "Kim Possible!"
Kim spun around, seeing a tall blue man looking down on her from the deck of the submarine above her. Work had ground to a halt as all eyes focused on her.
"How dare you!" exclaimed Dr. Drakken, holding up his fist for emphasis. "Get her!"
In an instant, she was surrounded. A guard walked towards her, holding out a pair of handcuffs. She knew there was no way she could stand up against them all, but she was going to go down fighting.
Kim launched herself straight ahead, pushing the guard with the handcuffs back into the man behind him. Both of them toppled to the ground. She then felt a hand on her back and quickly swung around, raising her leg and delivering a devastating side kick to the henchman's rib case. Two more of Drakken's red-clad cronies came at her, one form each side. Kim jumped, extending both legs and hitting both men squarely in the chest with her heels. She dropped down to the ground in a split, but quickly recovered. Another guard was on top of her, and she swung her right leg down beneath him, catching his ankles and sending her wheeling. Then she realized, to late, he had been a distraction.
The weight of three large guards came down on top of her almost instantly, and Kim felt herself forced to the ground, the air forcibly expelled from her lungs. A twinge of pain ran through her spine. She tried to roll over, but the men held her firmly to the ground. She then felt the cool metal of handcuffs being slipped around her wrists.