Food Court
Ambulatory mannequins aligned like a marching band. Ron Stoppable and the other humans could not believe their eyes. He stood on the defensive. Suddenly, they all effortlessly leapt high, so Ron sprinted to where they were. He flung a metal dining chair at the group, striking only one dummy.
"How do we stop them?" Ron urgently asked Wade.
"They function individually but are concurrently powered," Wade answered.
"Don't care! Can't you handle it with a tap of your keyboard?" Ron could have sworn he saw anger in the eyes of the animated mannequins.
"I have to deactivate them simultaneously. Buy me some time," Wade answered.
"I can't afford it! Move faster!" Ron bounded over dining tables while the plastic, humanoid swarm pursued. He snatched up large condiment dispensers and slathered their ketchup and mustard on the floor. Several mannequins landed on the contents and lost footing. More dummies bumped into each other and crashed hard to the floor. Ron cheered, but noticed how the sizeable, plastic army meandered around that gooey disaster. "I know ladies find me irresistible but this is ridiculous! Hurry the fuck up, Wade!"
"Give me another minute!" Wade's fervent keyboard tapping was also heard over the radio.
"You're asking a lot from me today!" Ron sprinted in the opposite direction but the mannequins matched the move. Suddenly, they leapt at him one at a time. Ron dodged and parried them, but one cut a deep gash in his shoulder. Ron grunted in pain and acrobatically leapt away, even kicked a few out of his path in the process. One mannequin tackled him from behind.
Rufus ejected from Ron's pocket and rolled ahead from him. The mole rat shook his head and could only helplessly, sadly stare at him being violently pummeled.
No sooner than Ron stood up to vigilantly punch a couple of mannequins away, more slugged him to the floor. All of his self defense was useless against unrelenting, artificial women. As blood flowed down his face, Ron's panic increased. "Rufus, run, help the hostages!"
Opposite end of the mall
The cold shower indeed washed Kim clean and cleared her head somewhat. So the teen redhead used it to her advantage. Shego, momentarily in shock, covered the orifice that was exposed when her ear cartilage was severed by Kim Possible's wrist laser.
"You can dish it out but you can't take it." Kim sent her abraded left fist straight into her mouth.
"You piece of shit!" Shego hollered while covering her face.
Kim grabbed a metal folding chair and repeatedly slammed it on her skull.
"You're going down!" Kim imitated Ron's favorite wrestler.
After the chair strikes reached a half dozen, Kim plowed the top of it into her ribcage. Loud snaps were heard. Shego coughed up red fluids, but then maniacally laughed with a blood stained smile.
"I also have a laser, Kimmie." Shego answered, casually pointed her right index finger and shot a narrow beam of green flame, struck the watch laser and exploded it. This was the least injured part of Kim's body but now a steaming crevice was on her wrist. Kim shrieked, dropped the chair, and grasped the wound.
The evil woman impaled Kim's right shoulder with a second green beam. Kim thrust back from its impact and retreated towards the corpse laden section of the mall. Somehow, Shego somersaulted and landed two boots into Kim's jellied back. The strike caused a loud squish and caused Kim to fall on her torn breast.
Shego stepped inward, but the crimefighter kicked her crotch then executed a break-dance spin to upend her. Kim quickly straddled Shego and pushed her left thumb into Shego's right eye and plowed her ribs with her thumb-less fist. Tho Shego wailed like a trapped coyote, she clutched Kim's injured wrist with a flamed hand. Kim's teeth could have become powdered with clenching, but continued to pound.
Ultimately, Kim had to release. Shego quickly grabbed a fistful of Kim's red tresses, spun her limp body like a lasso and released. Kim's trajectory arched high and she boisterously landed thru a kiosk. Several of her bones broke. As she groaned among the splintered wood, she had become aware her jaw was one of the breaks.
"I wanna hear you scream for mercy." Shego pulled Kim up by her ripped shirts, punched her jaw, pulled her up again, and back-handed her.
At this point Kim's face was cut, bruised, swollen, and bore a wet, crimson mask that splattered from every Shego thunder-punch. Kim was in the tunnel, where the light begged her for a permanent residence. These beatings, this abuse, should not have been. They are not how we identified with Kim Possible, a cheerleader and a savior, not a warrior or soldier. The teen then whispered something inaudible to her attacker.
"What?" Shego asked.
"Go fuck yourself!" Then Kim spit a wad of red saliva on her face.
"I do that all the time, Kimmie," she said after a chuckle, and traced Kim's lips with her claw. "My vibrator is named Marc. I'd loan it to you if I weren't gonna kill you." All of a sudden, Shego's head jolted up as if she were alerted. She discarded Kim like a used candy-wrapper, turned away from her. "You've gotta be kidding me!"
END OF ROUND 9
