"Wow, I never realized what people would dump into the harbor," Ron
murmured, looking over the array of appliances, car parts, and other
assorted junk that littered the water's edge. "Shouldn't be a problem to
clog this sucker."
"Let's start hauling," Kim announced as she began dragging a refrigerator door towards the storm drain.
"Right behind you, KP... ah, actually, remember, the doctor said no heavy lifting."
Kim dropped the door and turned around to glare at Ron. "He also said no high-sugar foods for two weeks."
"Point taken, but..." Ron paused for a moment. "I got nothin'." He grabbed something that resembled a piece of oven and heaved it over his shoulder.
Thirty minutes later, the barrier was completed. The pile of refuse totally blocked the storm drain, forming a barrier nearly impenetrable to water. Ron and Rufus had headed off towards the transformer, and Kim was staring at the surprisingly small device Wade claimed could pump several thousand gallons of water a minute.
"You have the input hose in the harbor and the output down the stormdrain, right?" Wade asked over the communicator.
"Check."
"Ok, time to power up. If my schematics are right, the nearest building, that shoe store, has some external outlets on it. Just plug in the pump and press the 'run' button."
"Any reason we don't just use the communicator's battery?"
"Actually, yes... these pumps can form a feedback field that could knock out something as delicate is the communicator's power cell. It isn't a problem with the power grid."
"K'," Kim responded, dashing towards the darkened shoe store to set up the plug. She was back at the small pump seconds later. "Here goes."
She carefully pushed the small red button with her forefinger, causing the pump to gasp and gurgle as it struggled to purge the air from its system. As the small device filled with water, the sounds died down. Kim picked up her communicator and configured it so she could contact Ron via his cell phone.
"Ron, set your watch for eight minutes, thirty seconds starting now."
"Can do, KP," Ron answered cheerfully over the communicator.
The process seemed to take forever. Kim started to wonder if she should call Ron and make sure he hadn't forgotten to pull the plug, but a quick glance at her watch showed that it was not yet time.
The timer on her watch continued to count down at an agonizingly slow pace. Kim's heart beat faster as she watched the numbers trickle past ten seconds. At last, the display showed only zeros. Three seconds later, everything went dark.
There was a massive whoosh as the water in the drydock was released into the harbor. The contents of the drydock floated out freely as well, and Kim felt her heart skip a beat when she saw it.
A single, small tugboat slipped out into the dark harbor, dimly illuminated by distant city lights. The uncontrolled boat's momentum keeping it moving at a surprisingly fast clip. It continued its trek, the boat's stern leading it in a wide, right-handed arc- an arc which ended at a marina.
The noise was horrendous. The stern of the tugboat sliced through a huge, multi-million dollar yacht, tearing a gaping hole in its fiberglass hull. The tug itself was stuck, and was forced downward as the yacht, rapidly filling with water, began to roll over on top of it. Glass on both ships shattered as their structures were twisted by the incredible forces the water was applying on them.
The force of the impact had broken the yachts bow mooring lines, allowing it to swing freely into the ship next to it, an even larger yacht. Then despite its bulk, the second yacht's hull also gave way, allowing a torrent of water into its bow. It seemed to take only seconds for the giant yacht's bow to drop beneath the waves, shearing off a section of the smaller vessel as it submerged. Kim's eyes were so focused on the disaster before her, she didn't notice the men behind her until they were practically on top of her.
"Baltimore Police!" the taller of the men yelled, "put your hands on your head and get down to your knees."
Kim gasped, but did as she was told. As much as she knew time was of the essence, running from the police was not an option.
"You have the right to remain silent," the shorter police officer said as the taller one placed her hands in cuffs. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." The officer continued, but Kim was lost in her own thoughts.
If the submarine isn't here... where is it?
Kim was forced into the back of the squad car, where she was surprised to see Ron, also cuffed.
"What are you doing here?" Kim asked.
"They just happened to be driving by while I was chopping through power cables," Ron said.
"You two know each other?" The shorter cop asked as he slid into the driver's seat.
"Yeah, Kim's my best friend," Ron replied.
"That's good, because it looks like the two of you might be spending quite a bit of time together... in the slammer," the taller cop said mockingly as he closed his door.
"Kim," Ron said, turning to his friend, "how do we-"
"Cut the chatter back there. I don't want to hear another word."
Mrs. Dr. Possible slowly replaced the phone receiver, turning to Dr. Possible who had already realized by his wife's stunned expression that something was terribly wrong.
"Honey, you are not going to believe this," Mrs. Possible began, "but Kim and Ron are... in jail."
"In jail?" Dr. Possible asked incredulously, his eyes widening in surprise. "My Kimmie-cub? In jail?"
"Kim's been charged with three counts of vandalism, willful destruction of property, operating heavy equipment without a permit, and a whole bunch of others charges are pending. Ron is in for vandalism and destruction of public services."
"Where are they?" Dr. Possible questioned.
"Baltimore."
"I'll get ahold of the space center's jet, you get the twins ready to move out. I doubt we could find a babysitter on such short notice."
Mrs. Dr. Possible smiled thinly. "We can't get a babysitter for them with a month's notice. They just aren't willing to try anymore." She had hoped her joke would cheer up her husband, but he continued to look strangely pale, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for the phone.
"So, you're telling me that you had seen a submarine in that building?" the detective asked Kim, leaning across the table. "A Russian submarine?"
"That's right," Kim replied, returning his cold glare with one of her own.
"And this submarine, what was it doing there?"
"It was being retrofitted with advanced communications equipment."
"Who is doing this?" the detective pushed.
Kim's eyes were burning from the bright light that was placed over her, and she blinked several times before answering. "Dr. Drakken... also known as Drew Lipsky. He's a mad scientist who wants to conquer the world."
"And why is Dr. Drakken putting communications equipment on a Russian submarine?" The detective's tone was almost mocking.
"He plans to beam subliminal messages into television programs around the world and use them to control people."
The detective was not impressed. "That's the biggest load of hogwash I've heard in my time with the force. Most people at least try to make a story believable. You might as well tell me he's programming people with a mind control chip... or he has a legion of robot warriors." The detective chuckled lightly.
Kim worked hard to suppress a smile. Retelling past stories would probably not boost her credibility. Kim groaned. "I don't know how to prove this to you, but if I can, I will."
"So, this Stoppable character, was he with you?"
"Well, duh," Kim said, instantly regretting the condescending tone.
"So, do you two work together often?"
"All the time."
"So," the detective said slowly, "you're serial vandals."
"No! You've never heard of me... Kim Possible, teen hero? Doesn't ring a bell?"
"Don't try to fool me missy... I saw Kim Possible on TV once, and you are no Kim Possible.
Kim let her head drop hard against the table and moaned.
In the room next door, Ron was faring only slightly better.
"For the record," the detective, a short young woman, began, "state your name and date of birth."
"I'm Ron Stoppable."
"Date of birth?"
"August 30th."
"Of?"
"August."
"No," the detective said angrily, "of what year!"
"Oh... hmm... well I'm 18 now," Ron said, folding his hands behind his head, "so you can do the maths."
The detective rolled her eyes, but decided to take Ron's suggestion and do the calculation herself.
"Alright, Mr. Stoppable, can you briefly describe the events that transpired early this morning."
"Well, we were trying to get Dr. Drakken's submarine into the harbor, but somehow Dr. D. managed to switch it with the tugboat, and when the tugboat came out, it-"
"We know what the tugboat did," the short woman interrupted. "We want to know what you did."
"That's easy. I just cut the power cable so the doors would pop open."
"Alright, fair enough. What was your motivation for doing this?"
Ron straightened up a bit in his chair. "Dr. Drakken wants to take over the world... is there something else I need?"
"This Dr. Drakken... can you tell me more about him?"
Ron shrugged. "Well, I don't know if he's really a doctor or not... I've never actually seen a certificate or anything. I really dunno if he's smart or not... he's always making these machines and contraptions and stuff to take over the world, but he never seems to get that it never works. The dude needs to just give it up."
The detective raised one eyebrow a bit. "So, you've dealt with Dr. Drakken before?"
"Oh, yeah! Lots of times. KP and I are always stoppin' him from taking over the world."
"Could you describe him?"
"Well... he's taller than me... and he has freakishly large eyes... and a big scar on his face. And he got this dorky little ponytail."
The detective was scratching down some notes on her pad now. "Any specifics like height, weight, ethnicity?"
"Well... maybe he's like around six feet... he is kinda tall. And, uh... I'm not sure about weight. And eth-what?"
"Ethnicity... um... is he, you know, White, Asian, African American, and so on."
"I really don't know."
"Can you at least tell me his skin color, at least?"
"Blue."
"Let's start hauling," Kim announced as she began dragging a refrigerator door towards the storm drain.
"Right behind you, KP... ah, actually, remember, the doctor said no heavy lifting."
Kim dropped the door and turned around to glare at Ron. "He also said no high-sugar foods for two weeks."
"Point taken, but..." Ron paused for a moment. "I got nothin'." He grabbed something that resembled a piece of oven and heaved it over his shoulder.
Thirty minutes later, the barrier was completed. The pile of refuse totally blocked the storm drain, forming a barrier nearly impenetrable to water. Ron and Rufus had headed off towards the transformer, and Kim was staring at the surprisingly small device Wade claimed could pump several thousand gallons of water a minute.
"You have the input hose in the harbor and the output down the stormdrain, right?" Wade asked over the communicator.
"Check."
"Ok, time to power up. If my schematics are right, the nearest building, that shoe store, has some external outlets on it. Just plug in the pump and press the 'run' button."
"Any reason we don't just use the communicator's battery?"
"Actually, yes... these pumps can form a feedback field that could knock out something as delicate is the communicator's power cell. It isn't a problem with the power grid."
"K'," Kim responded, dashing towards the darkened shoe store to set up the plug. She was back at the small pump seconds later. "Here goes."
She carefully pushed the small red button with her forefinger, causing the pump to gasp and gurgle as it struggled to purge the air from its system. As the small device filled with water, the sounds died down. Kim picked up her communicator and configured it so she could contact Ron via his cell phone.
"Ron, set your watch for eight minutes, thirty seconds starting now."
"Can do, KP," Ron answered cheerfully over the communicator.
The process seemed to take forever. Kim started to wonder if she should call Ron and make sure he hadn't forgotten to pull the plug, but a quick glance at her watch showed that it was not yet time.
The timer on her watch continued to count down at an agonizingly slow pace. Kim's heart beat faster as she watched the numbers trickle past ten seconds. At last, the display showed only zeros. Three seconds later, everything went dark.
There was a massive whoosh as the water in the drydock was released into the harbor. The contents of the drydock floated out freely as well, and Kim felt her heart skip a beat when she saw it.
A single, small tugboat slipped out into the dark harbor, dimly illuminated by distant city lights. The uncontrolled boat's momentum keeping it moving at a surprisingly fast clip. It continued its trek, the boat's stern leading it in a wide, right-handed arc- an arc which ended at a marina.
The noise was horrendous. The stern of the tugboat sliced through a huge, multi-million dollar yacht, tearing a gaping hole in its fiberglass hull. The tug itself was stuck, and was forced downward as the yacht, rapidly filling with water, began to roll over on top of it. Glass on both ships shattered as their structures were twisted by the incredible forces the water was applying on them.
The force of the impact had broken the yachts bow mooring lines, allowing it to swing freely into the ship next to it, an even larger yacht. Then despite its bulk, the second yacht's hull also gave way, allowing a torrent of water into its bow. It seemed to take only seconds for the giant yacht's bow to drop beneath the waves, shearing off a section of the smaller vessel as it submerged. Kim's eyes were so focused on the disaster before her, she didn't notice the men behind her until they were practically on top of her.
"Baltimore Police!" the taller of the men yelled, "put your hands on your head and get down to your knees."
Kim gasped, but did as she was told. As much as she knew time was of the essence, running from the police was not an option.
"You have the right to remain silent," the shorter police officer said as the taller one placed her hands in cuffs. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." The officer continued, but Kim was lost in her own thoughts.
If the submarine isn't here... where is it?
Kim was forced into the back of the squad car, where she was surprised to see Ron, also cuffed.
"What are you doing here?" Kim asked.
"They just happened to be driving by while I was chopping through power cables," Ron said.
"You two know each other?" The shorter cop asked as he slid into the driver's seat.
"Yeah, Kim's my best friend," Ron replied.
"That's good, because it looks like the two of you might be spending quite a bit of time together... in the slammer," the taller cop said mockingly as he closed his door.
"Kim," Ron said, turning to his friend, "how do we-"
"Cut the chatter back there. I don't want to hear another word."
Mrs. Dr. Possible slowly replaced the phone receiver, turning to Dr. Possible who had already realized by his wife's stunned expression that something was terribly wrong.
"Honey, you are not going to believe this," Mrs. Possible began, "but Kim and Ron are... in jail."
"In jail?" Dr. Possible asked incredulously, his eyes widening in surprise. "My Kimmie-cub? In jail?"
"Kim's been charged with three counts of vandalism, willful destruction of property, operating heavy equipment without a permit, and a whole bunch of others charges are pending. Ron is in for vandalism and destruction of public services."
"Where are they?" Dr. Possible questioned.
"Baltimore."
"I'll get ahold of the space center's jet, you get the twins ready to move out. I doubt we could find a babysitter on such short notice."
Mrs. Dr. Possible smiled thinly. "We can't get a babysitter for them with a month's notice. They just aren't willing to try anymore." She had hoped her joke would cheer up her husband, but he continued to look strangely pale, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for the phone.
"So, you're telling me that you had seen a submarine in that building?" the detective asked Kim, leaning across the table. "A Russian submarine?"
"That's right," Kim replied, returning his cold glare with one of her own.
"And this submarine, what was it doing there?"
"It was being retrofitted with advanced communications equipment."
"Who is doing this?" the detective pushed.
Kim's eyes were burning from the bright light that was placed over her, and she blinked several times before answering. "Dr. Drakken... also known as Drew Lipsky. He's a mad scientist who wants to conquer the world."
"And why is Dr. Drakken putting communications equipment on a Russian submarine?" The detective's tone was almost mocking.
"He plans to beam subliminal messages into television programs around the world and use them to control people."
The detective was not impressed. "That's the biggest load of hogwash I've heard in my time with the force. Most people at least try to make a story believable. You might as well tell me he's programming people with a mind control chip... or he has a legion of robot warriors." The detective chuckled lightly.
Kim worked hard to suppress a smile. Retelling past stories would probably not boost her credibility. Kim groaned. "I don't know how to prove this to you, but if I can, I will."
"So, this Stoppable character, was he with you?"
"Well, duh," Kim said, instantly regretting the condescending tone.
"So, do you two work together often?"
"All the time."
"So," the detective said slowly, "you're serial vandals."
"No! You've never heard of me... Kim Possible, teen hero? Doesn't ring a bell?"
"Don't try to fool me missy... I saw Kim Possible on TV once, and you are no Kim Possible.
Kim let her head drop hard against the table and moaned.
In the room next door, Ron was faring only slightly better.
"For the record," the detective, a short young woman, began, "state your name and date of birth."
"I'm Ron Stoppable."
"Date of birth?"
"August 30th."
"Of?"
"August."
"No," the detective said angrily, "of what year!"
"Oh... hmm... well I'm 18 now," Ron said, folding his hands behind his head, "so you can do the maths."
The detective rolled her eyes, but decided to take Ron's suggestion and do the calculation herself.
"Alright, Mr. Stoppable, can you briefly describe the events that transpired early this morning."
"Well, we were trying to get Dr. Drakken's submarine into the harbor, but somehow Dr. D. managed to switch it with the tugboat, and when the tugboat came out, it-"
"We know what the tugboat did," the short woman interrupted. "We want to know what you did."
"That's easy. I just cut the power cable so the doors would pop open."
"Alright, fair enough. What was your motivation for doing this?"
Ron straightened up a bit in his chair. "Dr. Drakken wants to take over the world... is there something else I need?"
"This Dr. Drakken... can you tell me more about him?"
Ron shrugged. "Well, I don't know if he's really a doctor or not... I've never actually seen a certificate or anything. I really dunno if he's smart or not... he's always making these machines and contraptions and stuff to take over the world, but he never seems to get that it never works. The dude needs to just give it up."
The detective raised one eyebrow a bit. "So, you've dealt with Dr. Drakken before?"
"Oh, yeah! Lots of times. KP and I are always stoppin' him from taking over the world."
"Could you describe him?"
"Well... he's taller than me... and he has freakishly large eyes... and a big scar on his face. And he got this dorky little ponytail."
The detective was scratching down some notes on her pad now. "Any specifics like height, weight, ethnicity?"
"Well... maybe he's like around six feet... he is kinda tall. And, uh... I'm not sure about weight. And eth-what?"
"Ethnicity... um... is he, you know, White, Asian, African American, and so on."
"I really don't know."
"Can you at least tell me his skin color, at least?"
"Blue."