Chapter III
Ron struggled desperately to keep his eyelids from closing. Rufus had refused to let him sleep, constantly awakening him whenever he started to doze off. The little rodent was determined to ensure his owner and friend finished the reading, no matter what.
Ron stretched out his arms, yawning loudly before grasping the next folder and pulling it open. He tore the seal that kept the folder shut and pulled out the contents. He then leaned back, closed his eyes, and was out cold in seconds.
Rufus, moaning, ran up to Ron's ear and screeched loudly. Ron stirred slightly, but did not awaken. Rufus decided another course of action was needed. Jumping onto the floor, he searched for and found the bag of potato chips, grabbing one of the few remaining chips and taking it back to Ron. He jammed the chip into Ron's open mouth, causing Ron's eyes to pop open in surprise.
"RUFUS!" he yelled, inadvertently spitting the chip across the room in the process. "What is wrong with you, I need to sleep!"
"Still work" the rat chirped, pointing at the folders.
"I can deal with it some other time. It's three in the morning Rufus. You know I need my sleep!"
"Uh-huh"
"Then don't wake me up!" Ron said, annoyance seeping into his voice. Rufus took a step backward, not used to being talked to in this irritated tone.
Ron dropped his head back on the pillow and within a few minutes was snoring loudly.
******
"So, Kim Possible, you just couldn't mind your own business. You need to know what diabolic plan I had this time in quest for world conquest!" Drakken bellowed, laughing maniacally.
"You know, this is getting so yesterday. When are you going to get the hint this isn't going to work?" Kim had her ankles chained together by a device that was firmly attached to the floor, and her hands were still in the cuffs that had been slipped on her at the bottom of the dry dock.
"I know the restraints are not what you're used to," Drakken said quietly, "but this is only a temporary base. In two weeks, we set sail, and then, I will rule the world!" Again he laughed.
"You and what army, Drakken? You can't rule the world from a submarine."
"Ahh, but my dear KP, that's why we put on the satellite dishes and antennas. Once we set sail, I can transmit subliminal messages into TV programming all over the world! My message will travel through the world like wildfire, and then I will be the supreme ruler of earth!"
"And what's your message?" Kim asked.
"Ah, well, I haven't come up with that yet," Drakken muttered, sounding somewhat embarrassed, "but rest assured, Kim Possible, that it will cause everyone to support me, to follow me, to love me as their supreme ruler!"
"I hope your broadcasting on the comedy channel, because this whole thing sounds like a joke."
"Maybe to the limited mind of a teenage girl, but I am an evil genius, Miss Possible, and I will rule the world!" He broke out in another bout of evil laughter before turning and leaving the room.
******
The phone was ringing again. Obviously whoever was on the other end wasn't getting the hint. Ron finally rolled over, grabbing the receiver and pulling it to his ear.
"What," he said weakly, eyelids heavy.
"Good morning sir, concierge with your wakeup call. It's 4:45."
"Dude, I didn't call in a wake up call."
"Actually, it's at the request of a Mr. Brigsby. He said he'll meet you in the lounge at 5:30 sharp."
"This just keeps getting better."
"Have a good day, sir," the man on the line said, then disconnected.
"Rufus! You kept me up all night, and now I've gotten what, less then two hours of sleep. Come on!"
"Work!" Rufus chirped, pointing to the folders.
Ron ignored him and slipped on his favorite shirt and a pair of comfortable cargo pants. No tuxedo garbage today.
He was late getting downstairs, and Brigsby was not happy.
"I can't believe this... you waltz down here late, in these... these street clothes, looking like death warmed over," Brigsby yelled, drawing glances from a number of the other guests passing through the lounge, which was luckily still fairly quiet due to the early hour. "And you have cheese in your hair. I... I don't know where to begin! What do you have to say for yourself!"
"I... I," Ron mumbled softly, "I think I'm going to pass out." His eyes closed as he leaned down on the table, and then swung himself around to a seat. His head dropped down hard and with a resounding thud.
******
It had taken nearly twenty minutes, but Kim had finally managed to maneuver the handcuffs into a position that gave her at least some use of her hands. She bent over, trying to unclip the tiny laser cutter attached to a band around her ankle. In thirty seconds it was free.
Kim checked to make sure the area was clear and then used the cutter to carefully slice away her restraints. When she was free, she quietly walked around the side of the room, silently opening the door and slipping through.
All attention seemed to be focused on the submarine. In his typical fashion, Drakken had neglected to put sufficient security around Kim, failing to realize that she really could do anything, including escape from relatively primitive restraints.
After a quick survey of the situation, Kim decided the best course of action was to head for the nearest door and make her exit. She saw the door she wanted and bolted towards it, grasping the handle with such force it was nearly torn loose. Kim pushed herself through the door into the bright morning sun.
******
"Alright, Stoppable, let's see how well you memorized your cover, Brigsby said casually as Ron continued to indulge himself with the complimentary trail mix provided by the hotel. "What's your name?"
"Ron Stoppable."
"No," Brigsby scowled, "Your cover name."
"Ron Stoppable."
"Are you trying to cause me grief?"
"No, but if I do I did do that which I did."
******
Dr. Drakken looked at the cut restraints, able to tell from the precision of the cuts exactly how Kim Possible had escaped.
"Laser cutter!" he bellowed, extending his right arm towards a group of assembled henchmen, "You let her keep laser cutter after you caught her? I told you to search her!"
"You said to search her pockets," called out one of the red-clad men.
"Yes," Drakken replied sourly, "Indeed I did. No matter. So long as our project remains on track, Kim Possible is little more than a nuisance."
******
"John Evans! Your cover name is John Evans!" Brigsby bellowed, grabbing Ron's wrists, one in each hand, and shaking the young man violently.
"John Evans," Ron repeated shyly. His eyes were still drooping, but he was more alert than earlier, due primarily to Brigsby's mental and physical abuse. "So I'm John Evans, age 18, Secret Service Agent, born in Austin, Texas."
"By George, you got it!" Brigsby exclaimed. "And in only four hors," he added sarcastically.
"Who's da man Rufus," Ron asked, giving the pink mole rat and Brigsby his trademark grin. "So, are we done?"
"We haven't started. We still have a list of likes, dislikes, family history, and much more."
"Dang... you guys are thorough."
******
The day had finally arrived. Jena Kilmen, Princess of Parmea, would arrive in only minutes. The press was arrayed around the gate at Los Angeles International Airport, waiting anxiously for the first sign of the Princess.
Ron stood with three Secret Service agents and Mr. Brigsby directly before the jetway, his mouth wide with a toothy grin. He was wearing a formal tuxedo and had carefully removed the dried cheese of the other day from his hair.
The announcement that the princess's private jet had landed sent a wave of excitement through the crowd. Ron felt his hear beating faster, waiting for the moment to come. The big airplane rolled up to the gate, and after what seemed like an eternity, the Princess strode through the gateway door, causing Ron to take in a gasp of air.
Flash bulbs around the terminal went off as the press struggled to gather as many pictures as possible. There she was, far more beautiful than in the picture. Her long hair wrapped down around her neck, her deep green eyes gleamed like emeralds. Her body was slender and perfectly proportioned.
"Booyah," Ron mouthed silently.
Brigsby led Ron towards the young princess, extending his hand and bowing slightly before her.
"Madame Princess, I am Jack Brigsby, special assistant to Deputy Director Melbourne at the CIA. I'll be coordinating your security affairs while you are in the country."
"A pleasure, Mr. Brigsby," the princess said in a voice so smooth and rich it sent chill down Ron's spine. "And you are?" she asked, turning towards Ron.
"Ron Stop-OW!" Ron flinched in pain as Brigsby's elbow hit him in the side.
"This is John Evans, he's with the Secret Service... he just spent a while under cover and it's not completely out of his system yet."
"I was under- oh yeah... yeah."
"Well, a pleasure to meet you Mr. Evans. If you'll excuse me, I need to meet with another CIA director who is bringing me an escort for social events."
Brigsby walked up to the princess and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Ah, Madame Princess, Mr. Evans is your escort."
Princess Jenna Kilmen's eyes surveyed the young blonde man, and her mouth dropped open in surprise. "Him?" She whispered back angrily, "That goofy-looking guy?"
"Yes."
The Princess took a deep breath and strode forward. "Mr. Evans, if you're ready, would you care to accompany me?"
"Sure would baby," Ron yelped, drawing surprised look from the princess and a glance from Brigsby that would have stopped a more self- conscious person in their tracks.
"Mom, I don't know what to do. Everything is going nuts this week. My eighteenth birthday is tomorrow. I'm supposed to be happy!" Kim brushed tears away from her eyes.
"What exactly is bothering you honey?" asked Mrs. (Dr.) Possible, sitting down on the sofa next to her daughter.
"I've, never felt so helpless. I've never walked into a situation where from the start I knew I couldn't do anything but go down fighting. It's so frustrating."
"Kimmie, you still have plenty of time to foil Drakken's plans."
"Your right mom," Kim said between sniffles, "He's not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed himself."
"Amazing him and Ron don't get along better." Mrs. Possible was surprised to see her lighthearted quip met with renewed sobbing. "Is there something else, Kim?"
"It's Ron... I don't know where he is. He disappeared a few days ago with some CIA guy and I haven't heard from him since. I don't know if he's ok, and even if he is, he's going to miss my birthday!"
"Kim, you know Ron wouldn't miss your birthday intentionally, he-" She was cut off by a beep from Kim's Communicator.
Kim took a second to wipe her tears again before answering. "What's up wade?"
"I think I got a lead on Ron," the young genius responded. "Take a look at this!" A copy of the CNN news web page flashed onto the screen. The headline read "18 Year Old Foreign Princess Visits US for Conference with World Leaders". Kim's eyes then snapped to the photo, where she saw something that made her eyes widen in surprise: standing next to the young Princess was a sharply dressed Ron Stoppable. She read the caption: "Princess Jenna Kilmen of Parmea flanked by Assistant Deputy Director Jake Brigsby of the CIA and Special Agent Josh Evans of the Secret Service, who is serving as the Princess' Escort."
Kim couldn't help but laugh. "Ron, a secret service agent? Do they really think that anyone is going to believe he's a secret service agent?"
"No reason they wouldn't, Kim," Wade replied. "He's not in the news everyday like you. And when he is, the normally call him by the wrong name."
"True. I sure hope he knows what he's doing."
"This is Ron we're talking about Kim. There is no way he knows what he's doing."
******
"Most interesting," mumbled Lord Monkey Fist, "It appears our Monkey Phobic friend has somehow gotten involved in our plan."
A chimp next to him squeaked its consent.
"I don't know if that is a concern or not. It is an interesting question to ponder. He is a buffoon, yet he seems to have a knack for causing foiling my plans, yet he is probably less competent than any agent the secret service could have used."
Monkey Fist reached out for a cup of tea with his right foot, bringing it slowly up to his mouth.
"Perhaps it is best to move him aside..." Monkey Fist said, smiling broadly. "A few quick phone calls should do the trick."
******
"Mr. Melbourne, it's all over the news." Brigsby's face was bright red as he laid a stack of papers on Melbourne's desk. The top one had two photos on the front: one of Ron Stoppable and the princess from the previous day, and another dated from a year ago of Kim Possible with Ron visible behind her. The headline read "CIA and SS Guard Foreign Princess with Fake Agent."
"It's 7am, and guess what's going to be the leading story on the morning news," Brigsby said, turning on the small TV in Melbourne's Los Angeles Office.
"Good morning," the anchor began, "And welcome to Los Angeles, Today! Leading the news today, the CIA and Secret Service have assigned a fake agent to protect Princess Jenna Kilmen of Parmea during her visit to the US. Princess Jenna was said to be assigned a Special Agent from the secret service by the name of John Evans, an experienced agent who had excelled at all tasks. However, an anonymous tip received by several news agencies including this one suggested this young man was no agent at all."
A split screen came up, showing the picture of Ron greeting the Princess and another picture of Ron standing next to and slightly behind Kim Possible."
"As you can see, Agent Evans is actually Ron Stoppable, a high school student with no formal training who has nearly failed four different classes. He has worked with teen hero Kim Possible for several years, but is still described by fellow students as "Aloof," "Stupid," "A looser," and "Lazy." The question on most people's minds now is who put this kid in a slot that needed a responsible agent?"
"I did," Melbourne mumbled at the TV, using the remote on his desk to turn it off. "It still doesn't change the reason we put him there. He is an expert on Monty Fisque. The question is, can we justify the media nightmare of keeping him in there?"
"He has constantly proven to be a disappointment throughout training. I would of given him the boot a long time ago."
"Alright," Melbourne said, standing up. "Let's go let them know. They are probably at the hotel now."
******
"You lied to me" the Princess screamed, throwing the magazine in her hand at Ron. "I knew you were a lunatic the moment I saw you!"
"That's pretty good," Ron said, "Normally it takes people at least a few hours to figure out I'm a lunatic."
"You're missing the point," the Princess growled. "You said you were a special agent, that you had been trained as one, and that you were experienced!"
"I am experienced!"
"What? One or two times playing decoy for Kim Possible... hah!"
"I've done more then that. I mean, how many special agents have taken on Monkey Fist?
The Princess started to yell "I don't c-" Instantly, she was quiet, then quietly asked, "Did you say Monkey Fist?"
"The one and only... I hope he's the only."
The princess titled her head thoughtfully, causing her hair to unfurl from around her neck. "Really? So that's why you're here?"
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked.
"Monkey Fist, Lord Monty Fisque, is a distant relative of mine. Distant enough that I hardly know him. However, he is in the Royal Bloodline of Parmea, the only living person other than me that I know of. And he's not happy that I'm between him and the throne. I've received a number of letters from him, asking me to give up the throne or face serious consequences."
"Why would he want to take over Parmea?"
"Probably the legend of the King. Long before Parmea was taken over by Britain, the first King of the Chast Dynasty developed Tai Shing Pek Kwar.
"Monkey Kung Fu!" Ron blurted out.
"That's correct. Ever since, the King of Parmea has held the title Supreme Master of Tai Shing Pek Kwar."
"Are you a master of Tai Shing Pek Kwar?"
"I've done my share of training, but as I'm not male, I cannot hold the title of Supreme Master. King Chast the First trained men in the art of Tai Shing Pek Kwar in return for the sworn obedience of them and their families. Thus, all the descendents of those whom King Chast trained owe obedience to the King of Parmea. Most of the descendents are well versed in the art of Tai Shing Pek Kwar, as it has been passed down from generation to generation."
"So you can't lead them?"
"No... at the time of the Chast Dynasty, women were considered inferior to men. No man would ever be willing to accept orders from a woman, even the Queen."
"I take orders from a woman all the time," Ron responded bluntly.
"Things are different today, but what matters is what was decreed by the first King of the Chast dynasty."
"So if Monkey fist becomes the ruler of Parmea," Ron said, his eyes widening, "He would control all the descendents of the original guys who learned Monkey Kung Fu?"
"That's right."
"About how many guys is that?"
"Four thousand."
******
The Communicator beeped quite unfairly in the middle of the composition test. Kim clicked the mute quickly, looking over to see if Mr. Barkin, who was substituting for the normal teacher, had noticed the noise. He was staring straight ahead, evidently oblivious to the minor disruption.
She stood up and walked quietly up to Barkin's Desk.
"Mr. Barkin, I need to go make a run to the restroom."
Barkin's eyes narrowed. "All right, Miss Possible," he grumbled, "but remember, this is a timed test, and don't you come crying to me later if you need more time later."
"Alright, Mr. Barkin," Kim said, already on her way to the door.
It was a short walk to her locker, which she flung open.
"Ok, Wade, what's the sitch?"
"It's Ron, he's in hot water. You see the newspaper today?"
"No, but I-"
Before she could finish her sentence the printer shot out a copy of the front page of the Los Angeles Times.
"Secret Serivce Agent a Fake," she read, "A source, speaking on the condition of anonymity, contacted various media outlets with information that the agent guarding tasked to serve as the Princess's escort has no formal training. Identified as Ron Stoppable, the young man is described as--- Ooo... they are harsh!"
"Yeah, they are. Now, as you know, I'm always curious, so I managed to work with a guy I know at CNN and trace the phone call the tip came back on."
"And?"
"Monkey Fist."
"Why would he even care about this?"
"I don't know."
"Well," Kim said, "I think it's time I head to Los Angeles."
Ron struggled desperately to keep his eyelids from closing. Rufus had refused to let him sleep, constantly awakening him whenever he started to doze off. The little rodent was determined to ensure his owner and friend finished the reading, no matter what.
Ron stretched out his arms, yawning loudly before grasping the next folder and pulling it open. He tore the seal that kept the folder shut and pulled out the contents. He then leaned back, closed his eyes, and was out cold in seconds.
Rufus, moaning, ran up to Ron's ear and screeched loudly. Ron stirred slightly, but did not awaken. Rufus decided another course of action was needed. Jumping onto the floor, he searched for and found the bag of potato chips, grabbing one of the few remaining chips and taking it back to Ron. He jammed the chip into Ron's open mouth, causing Ron's eyes to pop open in surprise.
"RUFUS!" he yelled, inadvertently spitting the chip across the room in the process. "What is wrong with you, I need to sleep!"
"Still work" the rat chirped, pointing at the folders.
"I can deal with it some other time. It's three in the morning Rufus. You know I need my sleep!"
"Uh-huh"
"Then don't wake me up!" Ron said, annoyance seeping into his voice. Rufus took a step backward, not used to being talked to in this irritated tone.
Ron dropped his head back on the pillow and within a few minutes was snoring loudly.
******
"So, Kim Possible, you just couldn't mind your own business. You need to know what diabolic plan I had this time in quest for world conquest!" Drakken bellowed, laughing maniacally.
"You know, this is getting so yesterday. When are you going to get the hint this isn't going to work?" Kim had her ankles chained together by a device that was firmly attached to the floor, and her hands were still in the cuffs that had been slipped on her at the bottom of the dry dock.
"I know the restraints are not what you're used to," Drakken said quietly, "but this is only a temporary base. In two weeks, we set sail, and then, I will rule the world!" Again he laughed.
"You and what army, Drakken? You can't rule the world from a submarine."
"Ahh, but my dear KP, that's why we put on the satellite dishes and antennas. Once we set sail, I can transmit subliminal messages into TV programming all over the world! My message will travel through the world like wildfire, and then I will be the supreme ruler of earth!"
"And what's your message?" Kim asked.
"Ah, well, I haven't come up with that yet," Drakken muttered, sounding somewhat embarrassed, "but rest assured, Kim Possible, that it will cause everyone to support me, to follow me, to love me as their supreme ruler!"
"I hope your broadcasting on the comedy channel, because this whole thing sounds like a joke."
"Maybe to the limited mind of a teenage girl, but I am an evil genius, Miss Possible, and I will rule the world!" He broke out in another bout of evil laughter before turning and leaving the room.
******
The phone was ringing again. Obviously whoever was on the other end wasn't getting the hint. Ron finally rolled over, grabbing the receiver and pulling it to his ear.
"What," he said weakly, eyelids heavy.
"Good morning sir, concierge with your wakeup call. It's 4:45."
"Dude, I didn't call in a wake up call."
"Actually, it's at the request of a Mr. Brigsby. He said he'll meet you in the lounge at 5:30 sharp."
"This just keeps getting better."
"Have a good day, sir," the man on the line said, then disconnected.
"Rufus! You kept me up all night, and now I've gotten what, less then two hours of sleep. Come on!"
"Work!" Rufus chirped, pointing to the folders.
Ron ignored him and slipped on his favorite shirt and a pair of comfortable cargo pants. No tuxedo garbage today.
He was late getting downstairs, and Brigsby was not happy.
"I can't believe this... you waltz down here late, in these... these street clothes, looking like death warmed over," Brigsby yelled, drawing glances from a number of the other guests passing through the lounge, which was luckily still fairly quiet due to the early hour. "And you have cheese in your hair. I... I don't know where to begin! What do you have to say for yourself!"
"I... I," Ron mumbled softly, "I think I'm going to pass out." His eyes closed as he leaned down on the table, and then swung himself around to a seat. His head dropped down hard and with a resounding thud.
******
It had taken nearly twenty minutes, but Kim had finally managed to maneuver the handcuffs into a position that gave her at least some use of her hands. She bent over, trying to unclip the tiny laser cutter attached to a band around her ankle. In thirty seconds it was free.
Kim checked to make sure the area was clear and then used the cutter to carefully slice away her restraints. When she was free, she quietly walked around the side of the room, silently opening the door and slipping through.
All attention seemed to be focused on the submarine. In his typical fashion, Drakken had neglected to put sufficient security around Kim, failing to realize that she really could do anything, including escape from relatively primitive restraints.
After a quick survey of the situation, Kim decided the best course of action was to head for the nearest door and make her exit. She saw the door she wanted and bolted towards it, grasping the handle with such force it was nearly torn loose. Kim pushed herself through the door into the bright morning sun.
******
"Alright, Stoppable, let's see how well you memorized your cover, Brigsby said casually as Ron continued to indulge himself with the complimentary trail mix provided by the hotel. "What's your name?"
"Ron Stoppable."
"No," Brigsby scowled, "Your cover name."
"Ron Stoppable."
"Are you trying to cause me grief?"
"No, but if I do I did do that which I did."
******
Dr. Drakken looked at the cut restraints, able to tell from the precision of the cuts exactly how Kim Possible had escaped.
"Laser cutter!" he bellowed, extending his right arm towards a group of assembled henchmen, "You let her keep laser cutter after you caught her? I told you to search her!"
"You said to search her pockets," called out one of the red-clad men.
"Yes," Drakken replied sourly, "Indeed I did. No matter. So long as our project remains on track, Kim Possible is little more than a nuisance."
******
"John Evans! Your cover name is John Evans!" Brigsby bellowed, grabbing Ron's wrists, one in each hand, and shaking the young man violently.
"John Evans," Ron repeated shyly. His eyes were still drooping, but he was more alert than earlier, due primarily to Brigsby's mental and physical abuse. "So I'm John Evans, age 18, Secret Service Agent, born in Austin, Texas."
"By George, you got it!" Brigsby exclaimed. "And in only four hors," he added sarcastically.
"Who's da man Rufus," Ron asked, giving the pink mole rat and Brigsby his trademark grin. "So, are we done?"
"We haven't started. We still have a list of likes, dislikes, family history, and much more."
"Dang... you guys are thorough."
******
The day had finally arrived. Jena Kilmen, Princess of Parmea, would arrive in only minutes. The press was arrayed around the gate at Los Angeles International Airport, waiting anxiously for the first sign of the Princess.
Ron stood with three Secret Service agents and Mr. Brigsby directly before the jetway, his mouth wide with a toothy grin. He was wearing a formal tuxedo and had carefully removed the dried cheese of the other day from his hair.
The announcement that the princess's private jet had landed sent a wave of excitement through the crowd. Ron felt his hear beating faster, waiting for the moment to come. The big airplane rolled up to the gate, and after what seemed like an eternity, the Princess strode through the gateway door, causing Ron to take in a gasp of air.
Flash bulbs around the terminal went off as the press struggled to gather as many pictures as possible. There she was, far more beautiful than in the picture. Her long hair wrapped down around her neck, her deep green eyes gleamed like emeralds. Her body was slender and perfectly proportioned.
"Booyah," Ron mouthed silently.
Brigsby led Ron towards the young princess, extending his hand and bowing slightly before her.
"Madame Princess, I am Jack Brigsby, special assistant to Deputy Director Melbourne at the CIA. I'll be coordinating your security affairs while you are in the country."
"A pleasure, Mr. Brigsby," the princess said in a voice so smooth and rich it sent chill down Ron's spine. "And you are?" she asked, turning towards Ron.
"Ron Stop-OW!" Ron flinched in pain as Brigsby's elbow hit him in the side.
"This is John Evans, he's with the Secret Service... he just spent a while under cover and it's not completely out of his system yet."
"I was under- oh yeah... yeah."
"Well, a pleasure to meet you Mr. Evans. If you'll excuse me, I need to meet with another CIA director who is bringing me an escort for social events."
Brigsby walked up to the princess and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Ah, Madame Princess, Mr. Evans is your escort."
Princess Jenna Kilmen's eyes surveyed the young blonde man, and her mouth dropped open in surprise. "Him?" She whispered back angrily, "That goofy-looking guy?"
"Yes."
The Princess took a deep breath and strode forward. "Mr. Evans, if you're ready, would you care to accompany me?"
"Sure would baby," Ron yelped, drawing surprised look from the princess and a glance from Brigsby that would have stopped a more self- conscious person in their tracks.
"Mom, I don't know what to do. Everything is going nuts this week. My eighteenth birthday is tomorrow. I'm supposed to be happy!" Kim brushed tears away from her eyes.
"What exactly is bothering you honey?" asked Mrs. (Dr.) Possible, sitting down on the sofa next to her daughter.
"I've, never felt so helpless. I've never walked into a situation where from the start I knew I couldn't do anything but go down fighting. It's so frustrating."
"Kimmie, you still have plenty of time to foil Drakken's plans."
"Your right mom," Kim said between sniffles, "He's not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed himself."
"Amazing him and Ron don't get along better." Mrs. Possible was surprised to see her lighthearted quip met with renewed sobbing. "Is there something else, Kim?"
"It's Ron... I don't know where he is. He disappeared a few days ago with some CIA guy and I haven't heard from him since. I don't know if he's ok, and even if he is, he's going to miss my birthday!"
"Kim, you know Ron wouldn't miss your birthday intentionally, he-" She was cut off by a beep from Kim's Communicator.
Kim took a second to wipe her tears again before answering. "What's up wade?"
"I think I got a lead on Ron," the young genius responded. "Take a look at this!" A copy of the CNN news web page flashed onto the screen. The headline read "18 Year Old Foreign Princess Visits US for Conference with World Leaders". Kim's eyes then snapped to the photo, where she saw something that made her eyes widen in surprise: standing next to the young Princess was a sharply dressed Ron Stoppable. She read the caption: "Princess Jenna Kilmen of Parmea flanked by Assistant Deputy Director Jake Brigsby of the CIA and Special Agent Josh Evans of the Secret Service, who is serving as the Princess' Escort."
Kim couldn't help but laugh. "Ron, a secret service agent? Do they really think that anyone is going to believe he's a secret service agent?"
"No reason they wouldn't, Kim," Wade replied. "He's not in the news everyday like you. And when he is, the normally call him by the wrong name."
"True. I sure hope he knows what he's doing."
"This is Ron we're talking about Kim. There is no way he knows what he's doing."
******
"Most interesting," mumbled Lord Monkey Fist, "It appears our Monkey Phobic friend has somehow gotten involved in our plan."
A chimp next to him squeaked its consent.
"I don't know if that is a concern or not. It is an interesting question to ponder. He is a buffoon, yet he seems to have a knack for causing foiling my plans, yet he is probably less competent than any agent the secret service could have used."
Monkey Fist reached out for a cup of tea with his right foot, bringing it slowly up to his mouth.
"Perhaps it is best to move him aside..." Monkey Fist said, smiling broadly. "A few quick phone calls should do the trick."
******
"Mr. Melbourne, it's all over the news." Brigsby's face was bright red as he laid a stack of papers on Melbourne's desk. The top one had two photos on the front: one of Ron Stoppable and the princess from the previous day, and another dated from a year ago of Kim Possible with Ron visible behind her. The headline read "CIA and SS Guard Foreign Princess with Fake Agent."
"It's 7am, and guess what's going to be the leading story on the morning news," Brigsby said, turning on the small TV in Melbourne's Los Angeles Office.
"Good morning," the anchor began, "And welcome to Los Angeles, Today! Leading the news today, the CIA and Secret Service have assigned a fake agent to protect Princess Jenna Kilmen of Parmea during her visit to the US. Princess Jenna was said to be assigned a Special Agent from the secret service by the name of John Evans, an experienced agent who had excelled at all tasks. However, an anonymous tip received by several news agencies including this one suggested this young man was no agent at all."
A split screen came up, showing the picture of Ron greeting the Princess and another picture of Ron standing next to and slightly behind Kim Possible."
"As you can see, Agent Evans is actually Ron Stoppable, a high school student with no formal training who has nearly failed four different classes. He has worked with teen hero Kim Possible for several years, but is still described by fellow students as "Aloof," "Stupid," "A looser," and "Lazy." The question on most people's minds now is who put this kid in a slot that needed a responsible agent?"
"I did," Melbourne mumbled at the TV, using the remote on his desk to turn it off. "It still doesn't change the reason we put him there. He is an expert on Monty Fisque. The question is, can we justify the media nightmare of keeping him in there?"
"He has constantly proven to be a disappointment throughout training. I would of given him the boot a long time ago."
"Alright," Melbourne said, standing up. "Let's go let them know. They are probably at the hotel now."
******
"You lied to me" the Princess screamed, throwing the magazine in her hand at Ron. "I knew you were a lunatic the moment I saw you!"
"That's pretty good," Ron said, "Normally it takes people at least a few hours to figure out I'm a lunatic."
"You're missing the point," the Princess growled. "You said you were a special agent, that you had been trained as one, and that you were experienced!"
"I am experienced!"
"What? One or two times playing decoy for Kim Possible... hah!"
"I've done more then that. I mean, how many special agents have taken on Monkey Fist?
The Princess started to yell "I don't c-" Instantly, she was quiet, then quietly asked, "Did you say Monkey Fist?"
"The one and only... I hope he's the only."
The princess titled her head thoughtfully, causing her hair to unfurl from around her neck. "Really? So that's why you're here?"
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked.
"Monkey Fist, Lord Monty Fisque, is a distant relative of mine. Distant enough that I hardly know him. However, he is in the Royal Bloodline of Parmea, the only living person other than me that I know of. And he's not happy that I'm between him and the throne. I've received a number of letters from him, asking me to give up the throne or face serious consequences."
"Why would he want to take over Parmea?"
"Probably the legend of the King. Long before Parmea was taken over by Britain, the first King of the Chast Dynasty developed Tai Shing Pek Kwar.
"Monkey Kung Fu!" Ron blurted out.
"That's correct. Ever since, the King of Parmea has held the title Supreme Master of Tai Shing Pek Kwar."
"Are you a master of Tai Shing Pek Kwar?"
"I've done my share of training, but as I'm not male, I cannot hold the title of Supreme Master. King Chast the First trained men in the art of Tai Shing Pek Kwar in return for the sworn obedience of them and their families. Thus, all the descendents of those whom King Chast trained owe obedience to the King of Parmea. Most of the descendents are well versed in the art of Tai Shing Pek Kwar, as it has been passed down from generation to generation."
"So you can't lead them?"
"No... at the time of the Chast Dynasty, women were considered inferior to men. No man would ever be willing to accept orders from a woman, even the Queen."
"I take orders from a woman all the time," Ron responded bluntly.
"Things are different today, but what matters is what was decreed by the first King of the Chast dynasty."
"So if Monkey fist becomes the ruler of Parmea," Ron said, his eyes widening, "He would control all the descendents of the original guys who learned Monkey Kung Fu?"
"That's right."
"About how many guys is that?"
"Four thousand."
******
The Communicator beeped quite unfairly in the middle of the composition test. Kim clicked the mute quickly, looking over to see if Mr. Barkin, who was substituting for the normal teacher, had noticed the noise. He was staring straight ahead, evidently oblivious to the minor disruption.
She stood up and walked quietly up to Barkin's Desk.
"Mr. Barkin, I need to go make a run to the restroom."
Barkin's eyes narrowed. "All right, Miss Possible," he grumbled, "but remember, this is a timed test, and don't you come crying to me later if you need more time later."
"Alright, Mr. Barkin," Kim said, already on her way to the door.
It was a short walk to her locker, which she flung open.
"Ok, Wade, what's the sitch?"
"It's Ron, he's in hot water. You see the newspaper today?"
"No, but I-"
Before she could finish her sentence the printer shot out a copy of the front page of the Los Angeles Times.
"Secret Serivce Agent a Fake," she read, "A source, speaking on the condition of anonymity, contacted various media outlets with information that the agent guarding tasked to serve as the Princess's escort has no formal training. Identified as Ron Stoppable, the young man is described as--- Ooo... they are harsh!"
"Yeah, they are. Now, as you know, I'm always curious, so I managed to work with a guy I know at CNN and trace the phone call the tip came back on."
"And?"
"Monkey Fist."
"Why would he even care about this?"
"I don't know."
"Well," Kim said, "I think it's time I head to Los Angeles."