All-Purpose Disclaimer
Kim Possible is a registered trademark of Disney Incorporated, its subsidiaries, and anyone else smart enough to cut into a piece of that pie on the ground floor. All characters, locations, trademarks and themes are used without permission. The following is a fan-driven work of puerile refuse, eloquently woven and masterfully executed though it might be. No money was accepted, given, or exchanged. Though, if it comes up, I prefer small bills.
Kim Possible The Power of Trust
by Cyberwraith Nine
Peace. Harmony. Tranquility. Despite the hectic and often dangerous life of a martial artist, these were the three goals of such an existence. Countless hours of training the body, honing the mind, and forging the spirit, all for the purpose of combat, led toward the ultimate and misleading goal of supreme, sublime serenity, both spiritually and secularly. And it was within the sanctuary of his meditation chambers, the most isolated spot atop Yamanouchi, that the Sensei sought such serenity.
He was seated atop a simple mat of woven river reeds, his legs crossed in the lotus position with his hands resting comfortably on his knees. The wizen, wispy moustache and beard hiding his features rose and fell atop his chest in a steady beat set to silent drums. The universe revealed itself to him in new and exciting ways as he came closer and closer to nirvana. Senses apparent in every human, yet known only to a handful, opened themselves to a new stream of sensations. The cosmos sang to him, and he listened, both appreciative and humble that they might bestow their gifts upon him.
Then, softly at first, but with greater urgency, he felt a slight disturbance. It came from the shadows, cloaked in the dark, but attempting to reach him nonetheless. Through his new senses, he could see a black claw reaching for him...a claw covered in fur, with jagged nails and rough, leathery skin. It stretched, undulated, clawed its way toward the Sensei...
No. Not to him. To something nearby.
Cracking a single eye, the Sensei allowed light to seep into his still sharp eyes. The only other object in the room, save for a small bowl of incense burning near his feet, was a pedestal erected in the corner of the tiny space. A long case of glass and polished wood sat atop the lone pedestal, containing their ultimate treasure. And at the moment, the box was quivering at the hands of an unseen force.
At once, the presence became familiar to the Sensei. "Hello, my student," he spoke aloud to the empty room, knowing full well that the presence could hear him.
'Silence, old fool,' the shadows whispered back to him. 'You are powerless to stop me. The Blade will be mine!'
"I will agree with the former, my student," the Sensei nodded agreeably, "But it would seem that the latter has yet to be decided, yes?"
A frustrated howl reverberated in the tiny space as the box began to shake more violently. The pedestal tilted to and fro, threatening to tip and fall if just an ounce more of power was to come into each invisible push. 'You miserable wretch!' the shadows cursed Sensei. He could almost hear them spitting at his name, though obviously there was nothing to see. 'Always, you stand in my path to righteousness! ALWAYS!'
"I did nothing of the sort," Sensei retorted calmly. He had yet to move, though his school's treasure was teetering on the edge of its platform. "I merely allowed destiny to take its course. You could yet serve your own destiny, should you choose."
'To hell with destiny, and to hell with you, old man!' Sensei could hear a terrible strain in the shadows' voice as, flying in the face of Sir Isaac Newton, the wooden box lifted into the air, hovering several inches above its pedestal. 'I will possess the powers of the Master! I WILL be the Chosen One!'
"The Jade Monkeys are gone. Their power belongs only to three, now." As if to prove Sensei's point, the box took a dangerous dip before the unseen force holding it aloft yanked it back into the air. "Your fruitless quest will destroy you."
'Do I detect a hint of fear in your voice, Sensei?' Though grunting and heaving, the voice still mocked the old man mercilessly. 'You fear my success, just as you always have.'
The Sensei's head drooped to his chest as his heart flooded with sadness. "No, child," he sighed. "I fear only that I have failed to teach you properly. I have failed my own d-"
'NO!'
At first, Sensei simply thought the shadows were disagreeing with him. Then he saw the cause of their distress; the box held in the air finally gave way to gravity, and plunged the several feet onto the cold stone floor. Glass and wood shattered into a thousand different pieces and scattered in as many directions, leaving only their contents intact. The sound of metal on stone scraped loudly in Sensei's ears as a simple, silvery blade slid to rest at his feet. Reaching out, he sought the presence he had felt, but it was now gone. He was one again alone.
A moment of quiet contemplation later, Sensei's domicile was invaded by a large, broad-chested warrior in a black gi. He sported an abnormally trendy haircut and narrow, dark eyes that were usually half-lidded with arrogance that Sensei sometimes found disturbing. However, his eyes were now wide with distress as he entered the room. His wooden sandals crunched against the broken glass as he skidded to a halt, taking only a brief moment to bow in deference to his master.
"Sensei, are you harmed?" he panted in a panic. "I heard a crash, and then..." His voice trailed off as he examined the remains of the case, and its contents sitting at Sensei's feet. His quickened breath immediately ended in a gasp as he murmured, "The Lotus Blade!"
Sensei held a hand up to keep the boy from doing anything rash. "Peace, Hirotaka. All is well...for the moment." His twinkling eyes soon turned downward in a deep scowl. With wrinkled hands, he scooped the mystic blade up and held it tenderly, examining its crisp, flawless lines. "However, all will not remain well if we do not take action."
With another bow, Hirotaka silenced his hysterics. "What would you ask of me, my master?"
"Announce to the Elders that I wish to hold a council." With a moment's thought, he added, "And inform Ms. Akamatsu that I wish to see her in private." He looked into his reflection's eyes with deep thought as the beginnings of a plan formulated in his mind. "I believe it is time we had a chat with an old friend of ours."
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A lumpy, pasty smile composed of a soggy burrito and a pair of salsa dollops gazed dully at Kimberly Anne Possible from her Bueno Nacho tray as she stared sullenly into the puke brown tabletop. Rain spattered onto the greasy window next to her booth, streaking the campus surroundings of Upperton's State University campus into a mishmash of dark colors. Abnormally warm for a mid-December afternoon, the pelting precipitation was nonetheless freezing to the touch, so much so that she could feel the cold radiating from the glass near her bare, strapless shoulder.
"Girlfriend!" A spry, sly and stylish young vision of beauty slid into the booth bench opposite the redhead, wearing a broad white smile rimmed with sultry red that stood out from her chocolate complexion. Despite the season and the weather, she was dressed in a short burgundy skirt and a black baby-doll that showcased a figure renowned for turning more than a couple of heads. "What are you doing here so early? You were supposed to meet me for debriefing an hour and a half from now!"
Kim's jade gaze rose from the smirking burrito and locked in on Monique. She had been rehearsing this encounter ever since the 'unpleasantness' almost an hour ago; in many scenarios, she had leapt across the table and proceeded to beat the tar out of her best girlfriend. In others, she burst into tearful confession. But now that it had come up, Kim was a little surprised to find herself taking a more straightforward approach. "Hey Mon..." she grunted.
Monique's smile immediately flipped. She leaned in, examining Kim carefully. The teen heroine was dressed for success in a deep green halter top that matched her eyes, with a light blue button-down sweater (unbuttoned at the moment) and a dark, long navy skirt. Kim's lips were painted up with a color of Monique's own choosing, from her private stock no less, and her eyes were lightly shadowed with a trace of sparkling emerald to give her a mysterious air. At the moment, though, there was no mystery about her; she was down in the dumps, so far down it was a wonder she didn't stink. "You okay?"
Taking a deep breath, Kim said, "Mon, you know I love you, right?"
"Friends 'til the end, girl." Monique agreed readily.
"Then don't take this the wrong way when I say that you will never," she sliced a decisive hand through the air, "Ever, ever set me up on a date again."
"Kim, what happened?"
"Under no circumstances."
"Kim-"
She wasn't even listening. "If the gods came down and said, 'Kim Possible, we hereby commandeth thee to high thee hence unto a date of Monique's choosething,' I would look them right in their godly eyes and say 'No sir!'."
"Kim!"
Kim looked up, her rant brought to a halt by Monique's snappish tone. "Yes?"
"Tell me. What. Happened." Monique brushed back a stray lock of hair from her eyes as she leaned in with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. "I swear, you're as bad as Ron sometimes with the melodrama."
"Number one, I am so not." Kim waved her off. "And number two, after what happened, I have the right to put on a whole production, complete with special effects' budget and a cast of Hollywood's finest."
"WHAT HAPPENED?!" Monique leaned forward and grabbed the lapels of Kim's sweater, stretching the fabric as she shook the redhead furiously. Once she had gotten Kim's attention, she seemed to settle down a little. She wanted the dish on Kim's date, but there was obviously something wrong. "Did everything...?"
"Oh, it was fine at first," Kim spilled with a sardonic roll of her eyes. "He was a perfect, charming gentleman all through dinner. Then we got to the movie theater. After the previews started rolling, he decides to play 'David Copperfield'."
Monique frowned, confused. "I...don't follow."
Kim waggled the digits of one hand as she tugged at the hem of her halter top with the other. "He thought he had 'magic fingers'."
"He didn't." Monique deadpanned.
"Sure as hell tried." A pinkish embarrassment seeped into Kim's ivory cheeks at the memory. She wasn't exactly fresh from the apple cart, but nothing like this had ever happened to her before. Previously, she had only imagined her reaction to such an advance. Now that it had happened, Kim was at least pleased to discover that no matter the situation, her instincts wouldn't let her be taken advantage of.
Monique pulled back with a snort. "Ooh, when I get my hands on that boy..."
Kim blew on her reddened knuckles. "Been there. Clobbered that." A large bite out of her burrito helped to quell the churning anger plaguing her innards. Thanks to a decade and a half of subtle culinary influence from a certain fiesta-fanatical friend, Mexican food had become an intense source of comfort for her. And a date that bad called for no less than two injections of spicy, beefy consoling.
"Well," Monique intoned glumly as she unwrapped a Cheesy-Changa, "Maybe your next date'll be better."
A small moan worked past the mass of cheese and beans dominating Kim's mouth. She slapped her burrito onto the bland brown tray with a grunt of disgust. "I don't want another date, Monique. I don't want to play the field. I just..." With a sigh, she poked at the food, no longer hungry. "I just want to meet the right guy, that's all."
Monique's eyebrow quirked as she swallowed her bite. "So, you want the perfect guy, but you don't want to go looking for him?"
"He doesn't have to be perfect!" Kim protested defensively. "Just...almost perfect, is all." Even Kim had to admit that she sounded lame. Super-lame, even.
"Enlighten me, please." Offered a generous and very amused Monique.
Kim fidgeted at the query, lowering her eyes and flushing at the cheeks. "Well," she started uneasily, "He has to be kind. And brave, too." Nervous at first, Kim found the words more easily as she gained momentum. She leaned her chin on her palm as an image began forming in her mind. "He can make me laugh no matter how cruddy my day's been. And he has a great smile."
"Is he a looker?" Monique did nothing to hide the smirk on her face. She grinned openly at Kim's dreamy expression. It wasn't every day she saw the world's greatest teen hero this vulnerable or honest.
"Monique!" Kim tried her best to sound offended. "Looks aren't important, you know that!"
"...and?"
Kim's face broke into a defeated smile. "He doesn't have to be a model," she admitted. "I sorta see him with kind of...subtle good looks. Like you'd have to look more than once to see just how special he is. A real diamond in the rough."
"Won't that halo muss up his hair?" her friend teased.
Monique received a withering glare for a response. "Hardy-har-har. I'm serious!" Kim's green eyes flashed, then dulled as she sunk toward the table. Her chin bumped a burrito as she gloomed, "But you're probably right. Where'm I gonna find a guy like that?"
"RON!"
A glorious cheer rose up in Bueno Nacho as the door jangled open, admitting the most popular patron renowned at Upperton U's location. His tussled golden hair was matted down with rain and his tattered red sweater hung heavily on his wiry frame. But despite his sogginess, the dazzling radiance of his smile seemed almost enough to chase the freezing rain from the sky. "Hey everybody!" he greeted the other regulars with a wave. It didn't take long for his sharp eyes to spot a certain pair of lovely young ladies sitting in his favorite corner booth.
Monique rolled her eyes, looking up at the ceiling with grave irritation. "God, you are such a hack." Muttered she.
"Hmm?" Kim asked, clearly distracted.
"Nothing."
Ron approached the girls with a ready grin. "Hey hey! He said. "Man, is it miserable out there." A tiny, whiskered head popped out of his cargo pocket and burbled softly in agreement. As soon as its luminous eyes spotted the leftover bounty sitting unprotected between Mon and Kim, it leapt up with a joyous squeal and attacked the greasy wrappers.
Monique glanced underneath the table, where Ron quietly created his own personal pond of rainwater imported from outdoors. Above the tabletop, his naked mole rat made short work of their lunch. "Feelin' a little wet, Chet?" she asked with a bemused smirk.
"The humidity sucks." Reaching down, he pulled at the hem of his sweater and took the offending garment up and over his head. A sticky white beater tanktop clung to his frame, revealing the taut lines of his torso and very nearly dropping Monique's jaw. Ron tossed his sweater into the seat next to Kim and chucked his thumb in the counter's direction. "Gonna grab some eats. Want anything?" They shook their heads numbly, and he toddled off.
"Mmm," Monique watched hungrily as Ron walked off, letting her gaze linger and drop. "Forget the tacos. I want some Midwestern Beefcake. How about you, Kim?"
Kim's face turned beet red as Monique waggled her eyebrows. "Whatever," mumbled the mortified teen.
"What's with the blush, girl?" The redhead turned away, trying to avoid Monique's inquisitive gaze. At first, Mon could hardly help but laugh aloud. But when Kim grew redder still and began to fidget, her humor turned to suspicion, and finally, realization. "You're crushing on Ron!" she gasped aloud.
The reaction was immediate and violent as Kim slammed her fist down onto a packet of Diablo sauce. Monique could have sworn she saw the tabletop begin to smoke where the spilled sauce struck before the redhead captured her attention. "I'm not!"
"You 'so' are!" laughed Monique.
"I am 'so' not!" she insisted once more. Her arms folded across her chest as she concocted her best irritated glare and threw it at Monique. The fierce look had all the effect of the torrential winds from a butterfly's wings. "Cut it out!"
"Since when did you have the hots for Ron?" Monique leaned in closer with an ever-growing smile. Even Rufus had stopped eating long enough to focus all his attention on Kim. Now she was really under the spotlight. "I mean, not that I blame you. He 'is' major hotness now, isn't he?"
"It isn't because he's hot!" Kim exclaimed, throwing up her arms in hysterics.
"So you admit it." She smirked victoriously. "AND you think he's hot."
Rufus wagged his tail and laughed, "Ha!"
Kim's arms crossed once again as she wrinkled with a discouraged pout. "Can we please talk about something more interesting than my defunct love life?"
"That depends. Are aliens invading?"
"Not today."
Leaning back in the booth, Monique couldn't hold the smug look on her face back. "Then there's nothing more interesting."
The feisty, fiery redhead exploded in a hail of beans and curses as her fist struck the lonely remains of her burrito. "Cut it out! I am not crushing on him!"
"Crushing on who?"
Kim's rage nearly turned into a stroke once Ron revealed himself standing next to the table. He plopped down, oblivious to Kim's growing fluster as he unwrapped a Grande Chimmarito with a growing smile. "R-Ron!"
"Waf duh deal?" he asked around a mouthful. "C'mon, schpill."
The blathering stream of stutters and half-words that flowed out of Kim's mouth and reddening cheeks was blissfully cut short by a quartet of musical tones emanating from her cargo pocket. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks as she dug out the smooth blue device and flicked the screen on. "What's the sitch, Wade?"
Team Possible's portly techno-geek grinned from his end of their satellite link-up. "You're looking rosy-cheeked, Kim. What up?"
Monique leaned over, putting herself over Kim's shoulder and in the camera's field. "Kim's got a secret crush," she said with a conspiratorial wink.
"Yeah!" Ron added between chews. "And she's not giving up any names."
"Seriously?" Now Wade's interest was piqued, giving him a dangerous gleam in his eye. "I've got this truth serum I've been itching to try out, and-"
"Hi, guys?" The redhead sighed impatiently, "Remember me? The world-saving crime fighter? I'd like to know what the sitch is, please." Her face pruned up with irritation as her entourage shifted away from her.
"Tou-chy!" Wade teased. "Must be juicy, then."
"Wade. Sitch. Now."
Wade grinned readily, settling down to business. With a few keystrokes, he produced a tiny map in the corner of her Kimmunicator, starting with an overhead view of Europe, zooming in to Great Britain, and finally to London. "The London Museum of Natural History reported a theft last night."
Monique shrugged. "So? Isn't that why they have Scotland Yard?"
"I thought Scotland Yard was in...y'know, Scotland." Ron looked more confused than ever. "Don't they have London Yard?"
Ignoring the peanut gallery, Kim instead focused on the tiny screen. "Why call me?"
"The theft occurred in their new Cults and Religion Exhibit. The item: A monkey idol." Another few keystrokes altered the screen once more, this time into a photo of a small simian statue with a somber expression frozen on its stone features. Its face held a pair of ruby eyes, and cradled in its paws was an emerald the size of an egg. "Totally priceless. One of a kind."
"Black market?" Kim asked.
"Cult ritual?" suggested Monique.
Ron swallowed and grew pale. "Monkeys?" he squeaked.
"Ho..." Rufus moaned as he hid inside of Ron's Grande Burritaco Supreme, quivering at the mere mention of monkeys. Had Ron been able to, he would have done the same.
Wade continued, "Not sure. The thieves knocked out the cameras. Real professional job."
"Then it's time to send in the professionals to catch them." Kim's confidence returned as she grew more into her element. Gone was the embarrassed teenager, and come to stay was the fierce force for justice.
And, of course, Ron was on-hand to do just what he did best; ruin the drama of the moment and break the tension all at once. "Technically, we're still amateurs since nobody pays us."
Kim blinked at this for a moment before looking back at the Kimmunicator screen without comment. "Ride?"
"On the way." Wade assured her. "You can meet them at the U's Courtyard. V-TOL transport jet courtesy of Uncle Sam."
"I'll drive." Ron added eagerly. He squeezed Rufus out of the burrito and paused only long enough to wipe the beans from his naked mole blob before picketing the former rodent turned amorphous creature.
As she rose, Kim cast a questioning look at the odd-girl-out. "Wanna come? We could get some real fish and chips."
"Though if you ask for real chips," Ron lamented with a scratch of his head, "They get all indignant about it."
Monique smiled. Ever since her involvement in bringing down LoVE, Kim and Ron had been encouraging her to take a more active role in their escapades. But truthfully, she didn't need the excitement. It was a full-time job just managing her social life. There wasn't time for globetrotting. But there was always time for mind games. "You guys go on ahead. You know what they say; two's company, three's a crowd."
"I thought that was just for dates," commented Ron.
"Silly me." Monique cooed coyly. As she picked at the remains of Ron's food, she savored the look of awkward embarrassment flushing across Kim's retreating features. "Good luck!" she called out after them.
To Be Continued
Kim Possible is a registered trademark of Disney Incorporated, its subsidiaries, and anyone else smart enough to cut into a piece of that pie on the ground floor. All characters, locations, trademarks and themes are used without permission. The following is a fan-driven work of puerile refuse, eloquently woven and masterfully executed though it might be. No money was accepted, given, or exchanged. Though, if it comes up, I prefer small bills.
Kim Possible The Power of Trust
by Cyberwraith Nine
Peace. Harmony. Tranquility. Despite the hectic and often dangerous life of a martial artist, these were the three goals of such an existence. Countless hours of training the body, honing the mind, and forging the spirit, all for the purpose of combat, led toward the ultimate and misleading goal of supreme, sublime serenity, both spiritually and secularly. And it was within the sanctuary of his meditation chambers, the most isolated spot atop Yamanouchi, that the Sensei sought such serenity.
He was seated atop a simple mat of woven river reeds, his legs crossed in the lotus position with his hands resting comfortably on his knees. The wizen, wispy moustache and beard hiding his features rose and fell atop his chest in a steady beat set to silent drums. The universe revealed itself to him in new and exciting ways as he came closer and closer to nirvana. Senses apparent in every human, yet known only to a handful, opened themselves to a new stream of sensations. The cosmos sang to him, and he listened, both appreciative and humble that they might bestow their gifts upon him.
Then, softly at first, but with greater urgency, he felt a slight disturbance. It came from the shadows, cloaked in the dark, but attempting to reach him nonetheless. Through his new senses, he could see a black claw reaching for him...a claw covered in fur, with jagged nails and rough, leathery skin. It stretched, undulated, clawed its way toward the Sensei...
No. Not to him. To something nearby.
Cracking a single eye, the Sensei allowed light to seep into his still sharp eyes. The only other object in the room, save for a small bowl of incense burning near his feet, was a pedestal erected in the corner of the tiny space. A long case of glass and polished wood sat atop the lone pedestal, containing their ultimate treasure. And at the moment, the box was quivering at the hands of an unseen force.
At once, the presence became familiar to the Sensei. "Hello, my student," he spoke aloud to the empty room, knowing full well that the presence could hear him.
'Silence, old fool,' the shadows whispered back to him. 'You are powerless to stop me. The Blade will be mine!'
"I will agree with the former, my student," the Sensei nodded agreeably, "But it would seem that the latter has yet to be decided, yes?"
A frustrated howl reverberated in the tiny space as the box began to shake more violently. The pedestal tilted to and fro, threatening to tip and fall if just an ounce more of power was to come into each invisible push. 'You miserable wretch!' the shadows cursed Sensei. He could almost hear them spitting at his name, though obviously there was nothing to see. 'Always, you stand in my path to righteousness! ALWAYS!'
"I did nothing of the sort," Sensei retorted calmly. He had yet to move, though his school's treasure was teetering on the edge of its platform. "I merely allowed destiny to take its course. You could yet serve your own destiny, should you choose."
'To hell with destiny, and to hell with you, old man!' Sensei could hear a terrible strain in the shadows' voice as, flying in the face of Sir Isaac Newton, the wooden box lifted into the air, hovering several inches above its pedestal. 'I will possess the powers of the Master! I WILL be the Chosen One!'
"The Jade Monkeys are gone. Their power belongs only to three, now." As if to prove Sensei's point, the box took a dangerous dip before the unseen force holding it aloft yanked it back into the air. "Your fruitless quest will destroy you."
'Do I detect a hint of fear in your voice, Sensei?' Though grunting and heaving, the voice still mocked the old man mercilessly. 'You fear my success, just as you always have.'
The Sensei's head drooped to his chest as his heart flooded with sadness. "No, child," he sighed. "I fear only that I have failed to teach you properly. I have failed my own d-"
'NO!'
At first, Sensei simply thought the shadows were disagreeing with him. Then he saw the cause of their distress; the box held in the air finally gave way to gravity, and plunged the several feet onto the cold stone floor. Glass and wood shattered into a thousand different pieces and scattered in as many directions, leaving only their contents intact. The sound of metal on stone scraped loudly in Sensei's ears as a simple, silvery blade slid to rest at his feet. Reaching out, he sought the presence he had felt, but it was now gone. He was one again alone.
A moment of quiet contemplation later, Sensei's domicile was invaded by a large, broad-chested warrior in a black gi. He sported an abnormally trendy haircut and narrow, dark eyes that were usually half-lidded with arrogance that Sensei sometimes found disturbing. However, his eyes were now wide with distress as he entered the room. His wooden sandals crunched against the broken glass as he skidded to a halt, taking only a brief moment to bow in deference to his master.
"Sensei, are you harmed?" he panted in a panic. "I heard a crash, and then..." His voice trailed off as he examined the remains of the case, and its contents sitting at Sensei's feet. His quickened breath immediately ended in a gasp as he murmured, "The Lotus Blade!"
Sensei held a hand up to keep the boy from doing anything rash. "Peace, Hirotaka. All is well...for the moment." His twinkling eyes soon turned downward in a deep scowl. With wrinkled hands, he scooped the mystic blade up and held it tenderly, examining its crisp, flawless lines. "However, all will not remain well if we do not take action."
With another bow, Hirotaka silenced his hysterics. "What would you ask of me, my master?"
"Announce to the Elders that I wish to hold a council." With a moment's thought, he added, "And inform Ms. Akamatsu that I wish to see her in private." He looked into his reflection's eyes with deep thought as the beginnings of a plan formulated in his mind. "I believe it is time we had a chat with an old friend of ours."
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A lumpy, pasty smile composed of a soggy burrito and a pair of salsa dollops gazed dully at Kimberly Anne Possible from her Bueno Nacho tray as she stared sullenly into the puke brown tabletop. Rain spattered onto the greasy window next to her booth, streaking the campus surroundings of Upperton's State University campus into a mishmash of dark colors. Abnormally warm for a mid-December afternoon, the pelting precipitation was nonetheless freezing to the touch, so much so that she could feel the cold radiating from the glass near her bare, strapless shoulder.
"Girlfriend!" A spry, sly and stylish young vision of beauty slid into the booth bench opposite the redhead, wearing a broad white smile rimmed with sultry red that stood out from her chocolate complexion. Despite the season and the weather, she was dressed in a short burgundy skirt and a black baby-doll that showcased a figure renowned for turning more than a couple of heads. "What are you doing here so early? You were supposed to meet me for debriefing an hour and a half from now!"
Kim's jade gaze rose from the smirking burrito and locked in on Monique. She had been rehearsing this encounter ever since the 'unpleasantness' almost an hour ago; in many scenarios, she had leapt across the table and proceeded to beat the tar out of her best girlfriend. In others, she burst into tearful confession. But now that it had come up, Kim was a little surprised to find herself taking a more straightforward approach. "Hey Mon..." she grunted.
Monique's smile immediately flipped. She leaned in, examining Kim carefully. The teen heroine was dressed for success in a deep green halter top that matched her eyes, with a light blue button-down sweater (unbuttoned at the moment) and a dark, long navy skirt. Kim's lips were painted up with a color of Monique's own choosing, from her private stock no less, and her eyes were lightly shadowed with a trace of sparkling emerald to give her a mysterious air. At the moment, though, there was no mystery about her; she was down in the dumps, so far down it was a wonder she didn't stink. "You okay?"
Taking a deep breath, Kim said, "Mon, you know I love you, right?"
"Friends 'til the end, girl." Monique agreed readily.
"Then don't take this the wrong way when I say that you will never," she sliced a decisive hand through the air, "Ever, ever set me up on a date again."
"Kim, what happened?"
"Under no circumstances."
"Kim-"
She wasn't even listening. "If the gods came down and said, 'Kim Possible, we hereby commandeth thee to high thee hence unto a date of Monique's choosething,' I would look them right in their godly eyes and say 'No sir!'."
"Kim!"
Kim looked up, her rant brought to a halt by Monique's snappish tone. "Yes?"
"Tell me. What. Happened." Monique brushed back a stray lock of hair from her eyes as she leaned in with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. "I swear, you're as bad as Ron sometimes with the melodrama."
"Number one, I am so not." Kim waved her off. "And number two, after what happened, I have the right to put on a whole production, complete with special effects' budget and a cast of Hollywood's finest."
"WHAT HAPPENED?!" Monique leaned forward and grabbed the lapels of Kim's sweater, stretching the fabric as she shook the redhead furiously. Once she had gotten Kim's attention, she seemed to settle down a little. She wanted the dish on Kim's date, but there was obviously something wrong. "Did everything...?"
"Oh, it was fine at first," Kim spilled with a sardonic roll of her eyes. "He was a perfect, charming gentleman all through dinner. Then we got to the movie theater. After the previews started rolling, he decides to play 'David Copperfield'."
Monique frowned, confused. "I...don't follow."
Kim waggled the digits of one hand as she tugged at the hem of her halter top with the other. "He thought he had 'magic fingers'."
"He didn't." Monique deadpanned.
"Sure as hell tried." A pinkish embarrassment seeped into Kim's ivory cheeks at the memory. She wasn't exactly fresh from the apple cart, but nothing like this had ever happened to her before. Previously, she had only imagined her reaction to such an advance. Now that it had happened, Kim was at least pleased to discover that no matter the situation, her instincts wouldn't let her be taken advantage of.
Monique pulled back with a snort. "Ooh, when I get my hands on that boy..."
Kim blew on her reddened knuckles. "Been there. Clobbered that." A large bite out of her burrito helped to quell the churning anger plaguing her innards. Thanks to a decade and a half of subtle culinary influence from a certain fiesta-fanatical friend, Mexican food had become an intense source of comfort for her. And a date that bad called for no less than two injections of spicy, beefy consoling.
"Well," Monique intoned glumly as she unwrapped a Cheesy-Changa, "Maybe your next date'll be better."
A small moan worked past the mass of cheese and beans dominating Kim's mouth. She slapped her burrito onto the bland brown tray with a grunt of disgust. "I don't want another date, Monique. I don't want to play the field. I just..." With a sigh, she poked at the food, no longer hungry. "I just want to meet the right guy, that's all."
Monique's eyebrow quirked as she swallowed her bite. "So, you want the perfect guy, but you don't want to go looking for him?"
"He doesn't have to be perfect!" Kim protested defensively. "Just...almost perfect, is all." Even Kim had to admit that she sounded lame. Super-lame, even.
"Enlighten me, please." Offered a generous and very amused Monique.
Kim fidgeted at the query, lowering her eyes and flushing at the cheeks. "Well," she started uneasily, "He has to be kind. And brave, too." Nervous at first, Kim found the words more easily as she gained momentum. She leaned her chin on her palm as an image began forming in her mind. "He can make me laugh no matter how cruddy my day's been. And he has a great smile."
"Is he a looker?" Monique did nothing to hide the smirk on her face. She grinned openly at Kim's dreamy expression. It wasn't every day she saw the world's greatest teen hero this vulnerable or honest.
"Monique!" Kim tried her best to sound offended. "Looks aren't important, you know that!"
"...and?"
Kim's face broke into a defeated smile. "He doesn't have to be a model," she admitted. "I sorta see him with kind of...subtle good looks. Like you'd have to look more than once to see just how special he is. A real diamond in the rough."
"Won't that halo muss up his hair?" her friend teased.
Monique received a withering glare for a response. "Hardy-har-har. I'm serious!" Kim's green eyes flashed, then dulled as she sunk toward the table. Her chin bumped a burrito as she gloomed, "But you're probably right. Where'm I gonna find a guy like that?"
"RON!"
A glorious cheer rose up in Bueno Nacho as the door jangled open, admitting the most popular patron renowned at Upperton U's location. His tussled golden hair was matted down with rain and his tattered red sweater hung heavily on his wiry frame. But despite his sogginess, the dazzling radiance of his smile seemed almost enough to chase the freezing rain from the sky. "Hey everybody!" he greeted the other regulars with a wave. It didn't take long for his sharp eyes to spot a certain pair of lovely young ladies sitting in his favorite corner booth.
Monique rolled her eyes, looking up at the ceiling with grave irritation. "God, you are such a hack." Muttered she.
"Hmm?" Kim asked, clearly distracted.
"Nothing."
Ron approached the girls with a ready grin. "Hey hey! He said. "Man, is it miserable out there." A tiny, whiskered head popped out of his cargo pocket and burbled softly in agreement. As soon as its luminous eyes spotted the leftover bounty sitting unprotected between Mon and Kim, it leapt up with a joyous squeal and attacked the greasy wrappers.
Monique glanced underneath the table, where Ron quietly created his own personal pond of rainwater imported from outdoors. Above the tabletop, his naked mole rat made short work of their lunch. "Feelin' a little wet, Chet?" she asked with a bemused smirk.
"The humidity sucks." Reaching down, he pulled at the hem of his sweater and took the offending garment up and over his head. A sticky white beater tanktop clung to his frame, revealing the taut lines of his torso and very nearly dropping Monique's jaw. Ron tossed his sweater into the seat next to Kim and chucked his thumb in the counter's direction. "Gonna grab some eats. Want anything?" They shook their heads numbly, and he toddled off.
"Mmm," Monique watched hungrily as Ron walked off, letting her gaze linger and drop. "Forget the tacos. I want some Midwestern Beefcake. How about you, Kim?"
Kim's face turned beet red as Monique waggled her eyebrows. "Whatever," mumbled the mortified teen.
"What's with the blush, girl?" The redhead turned away, trying to avoid Monique's inquisitive gaze. At first, Mon could hardly help but laugh aloud. But when Kim grew redder still and began to fidget, her humor turned to suspicion, and finally, realization. "You're crushing on Ron!" she gasped aloud.
The reaction was immediate and violent as Kim slammed her fist down onto a packet of Diablo sauce. Monique could have sworn she saw the tabletop begin to smoke where the spilled sauce struck before the redhead captured her attention. "I'm not!"
"You 'so' are!" laughed Monique.
"I am 'so' not!" she insisted once more. Her arms folded across her chest as she concocted her best irritated glare and threw it at Monique. The fierce look had all the effect of the torrential winds from a butterfly's wings. "Cut it out!"
"Since when did you have the hots for Ron?" Monique leaned in closer with an ever-growing smile. Even Rufus had stopped eating long enough to focus all his attention on Kim. Now she was really under the spotlight. "I mean, not that I blame you. He 'is' major hotness now, isn't he?"
"It isn't because he's hot!" Kim exclaimed, throwing up her arms in hysterics.
"So you admit it." She smirked victoriously. "AND you think he's hot."
Rufus wagged his tail and laughed, "Ha!"
Kim's arms crossed once again as she wrinkled with a discouraged pout. "Can we please talk about something more interesting than my defunct love life?"
"That depends. Are aliens invading?"
"Not today."
Leaning back in the booth, Monique couldn't hold the smug look on her face back. "Then there's nothing more interesting."
The feisty, fiery redhead exploded in a hail of beans and curses as her fist struck the lonely remains of her burrito. "Cut it out! I am not crushing on him!"
"Crushing on who?"
Kim's rage nearly turned into a stroke once Ron revealed himself standing next to the table. He plopped down, oblivious to Kim's growing fluster as he unwrapped a Grande Chimmarito with a growing smile. "R-Ron!"
"Waf duh deal?" he asked around a mouthful. "C'mon, schpill."
The blathering stream of stutters and half-words that flowed out of Kim's mouth and reddening cheeks was blissfully cut short by a quartet of musical tones emanating from her cargo pocket. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks as she dug out the smooth blue device and flicked the screen on. "What's the sitch, Wade?"
Team Possible's portly techno-geek grinned from his end of their satellite link-up. "You're looking rosy-cheeked, Kim. What up?"
Monique leaned over, putting herself over Kim's shoulder and in the camera's field. "Kim's got a secret crush," she said with a conspiratorial wink.
"Yeah!" Ron added between chews. "And she's not giving up any names."
"Seriously?" Now Wade's interest was piqued, giving him a dangerous gleam in his eye. "I've got this truth serum I've been itching to try out, and-"
"Hi, guys?" The redhead sighed impatiently, "Remember me? The world-saving crime fighter? I'd like to know what the sitch is, please." Her face pruned up with irritation as her entourage shifted away from her.
"Tou-chy!" Wade teased. "Must be juicy, then."
"Wade. Sitch. Now."
Wade grinned readily, settling down to business. With a few keystrokes, he produced a tiny map in the corner of her Kimmunicator, starting with an overhead view of Europe, zooming in to Great Britain, and finally to London. "The London Museum of Natural History reported a theft last night."
Monique shrugged. "So? Isn't that why they have Scotland Yard?"
"I thought Scotland Yard was in...y'know, Scotland." Ron looked more confused than ever. "Don't they have London Yard?"
Ignoring the peanut gallery, Kim instead focused on the tiny screen. "Why call me?"
"The theft occurred in their new Cults and Religion Exhibit. The item: A monkey idol." Another few keystrokes altered the screen once more, this time into a photo of a small simian statue with a somber expression frozen on its stone features. Its face held a pair of ruby eyes, and cradled in its paws was an emerald the size of an egg. "Totally priceless. One of a kind."
"Black market?" Kim asked.
"Cult ritual?" suggested Monique.
Ron swallowed and grew pale. "Monkeys?" he squeaked.
"Ho..." Rufus moaned as he hid inside of Ron's Grande Burritaco Supreme, quivering at the mere mention of monkeys. Had Ron been able to, he would have done the same.
Wade continued, "Not sure. The thieves knocked out the cameras. Real professional job."
"Then it's time to send in the professionals to catch them." Kim's confidence returned as she grew more into her element. Gone was the embarrassed teenager, and come to stay was the fierce force for justice.
And, of course, Ron was on-hand to do just what he did best; ruin the drama of the moment and break the tension all at once. "Technically, we're still amateurs since nobody pays us."
Kim blinked at this for a moment before looking back at the Kimmunicator screen without comment. "Ride?"
"On the way." Wade assured her. "You can meet them at the U's Courtyard. V-TOL transport jet courtesy of Uncle Sam."
"I'll drive." Ron added eagerly. He squeezed Rufus out of the burrito and paused only long enough to wipe the beans from his naked mole blob before picketing the former rodent turned amorphous creature.
As she rose, Kim cast a questioning look at the odd-girl-out. "Wanna come? We could get some real fish and chips."
"Though if you ask for real chips," Ron lamented with a scratch of his head, "They get all indignant about it."
Monique smiled. Ever since her involvement in bringing down LoVE, Kim and Ron had been encouraging her to take a more active role in their escapades. But truthfully, she didn't need the excitement. It was a full-time job just managing her social life. There wasn't time for globetrotting. But there was always time for mind games. "You guys go on ahead. You know what they say; two's company, three's a crowd."
"I thought that was just for dates," commented Ron.
"Silly me." Monique cooed coyly. As she picked at the remains of Ron's food, she savored the look of awkward embarrassment flushing across Kim's retreating features. "Good luck!" she called out after them.
To Be Continued
