All-Purpose Disclaimer
Kim Possible is a registered trademark of the Disney Empire. Its forces march even now ever onward toward victory and conquest.
Oh. And Eisner is a putz for putting the kibosh on Season 3.
Kim Possible
The Power of Trust
by Cyberwraith Nine
Jealousy. Hatred. Seething, burning, undulating like dancing maggots festering in the stomach. Mistrust. Scandal. Bitterness. Anger. How dare she look at him like that. She doesn't know him. What gives her the right. Sadness. Outrage. Misery. Spend fourteen years with him. Then you can look at him like that. Only you won't. I won't let you. Horror. Un-
"Kim?"
Kim shook her head back into reality. Beneath their uncomfortable seats, the loaned government Black Ops supersonic transport shook ever so gently. The United States had been all too happy to lend Team Possible the transatlantic ride after Kim single-handedly spotted the design flaw (which was no big, really) in the very craft they now rode in. She and Ron sat on one side of the cavernous passenger compartment; she in the window seat, and he, next to the aisle. A pretty attendant dressed in drab grays hovered patiently at their side with a small cart of complimentary snacks. And beyond the attendant...Her.
Jealousy. Hatred. Seething, burni-
Ron jabbed her with his elbow, jarring her back to reality again. "KP, do you want any peanuts or anything?" A tiny bag of honey-roasted peanuts jangled between his fingers, with a pile of them waiting for him in his lap. Yori had managed to steal one for herself, and between Rufus and Ron, she was lucky to have returned from the maelstrom with her fingers intact. Seeing the black-clad girl sitting there, with her ninja hood pushed back and her short, lustrous hair swinging free, licking her full, pouting lips as she ate, staring longingly at Kim's sidekick...
God, what a bitch.
Yori's almond eyes rose questioningly at Kim's glare. The redhead immediately forced a smile. "No thank you," she caramelized, "I seem to have lost my appetite."
The attendant kept a similar smile on her own features. "Will there be anything else?"
"I don't suppose you'd tell me when you get off-duty, would you?" Ron asked with a grin. He grew somber as her smile remained frozen and deathly silent. "You could garrote me with your bow tie, couldn't you?"
"Eight seconds maximum, Junior." She tossed him a wink as she wheeled her cart into the back. Now there was only the three teens, a pile of peanuts, and an intense drop in temperature.
"So, Yori, was it?" Kim patted Ron on the arm as he and Rufus dug into the peanuts like feral creatures. There was more than a hint of possessiveness in Kim's grip that only the ladies saw. "How do you and Ron know each other?"
Yori favored Kim with such a dazzling smile that Kim almost flinched. "Ron-san and I initially met during his brief tenure as an exchange student at Yamanouchi in high school."
"Oh." So that's where the little harlot crawled out from; some fancy, spoiled-kid prep school in Japan. Kim had read pamphlets on the school years ago, when Ron had been selected for a weeklong exchange during their Junior year. All the finest facilities, teachers, textbooks and equipment money could by was the norm for Yamanouchi. Sure, Yori had busted out some mediocre moves back at the museum. That didn't make her part of the team or anything. The ninja get-up was probably some rich kid fantasy game.
Ron nodded vigorously. "Yep," he agreed, munching merrily on is snacks. "Yori pulled me through some pretty lonely days away from home."
Creaking metal moaned beneath Kim's whitened knuckles. "Ron didn't tell me about any girlfriends he had in Japan." She tried to sound casual about it, and failed miserably.
"Oh no. Ron-san and I were merely friends in high school." Kim relaxed a fraction at this, until Yori added, "We did not become lovers until he returned this previous summer."
The plastic casing on Kim's armrest snapped off in her hand as Ron gagged ferociously on his honey-roasted snack. Her green eyes, murky with suspicion before, now burned with accusation intense enough to light the brilliantly blushing Ron aflame. Kim grabbed Ron by his shoulder and practically shouted in his ear, "Lover? And you never told me?" She looked ready to tear him apart, when another's tinkling laughter stayed her hand.
Both Kim and Ron turned to witness Yori in tears of laughter. "Oh Ron-san," she shook, "Kimberly-san is just as you described her." She swept her wet cheeks dry and bowed her head, stuffing the guffaws away. "Forgive me, please, Kimberly-san. Ron-san described you at such great lengths, I feel as though I know you myself."
"Yeah," Ron laughed uneasily beneath Kim's glare. "Yori's got a wacky sense of humor."
"Do tell." It was a wonder any words could escape Kim's clenched jaw. It was also very lucky Ron sat between her and Yori. "And what exactly were you doing in London anyway? Awful big coincidence, running into us like that."
Ron seemed uncomfortable with the question, but Yori didn't bat an eye. "Quite," she replied coolly. "One of the school's governors donated certain items to the exhibit. When he learned of the theft at the museum, I was dispatched to investigate."
"And Yamanouchi usually sends its students across the globe to investigate crime?" There were a few too many holes in Yori's tale for Kim's liking. For some reason, the girl set off blaring klaxons beneath Kim's red hair. "Seems a little unusual."
Yori countered, "No more so than two teenagers taking it upon themselves to do the same." Kim huffed as she added, "But truthfully, I am no longer a student. I graduated the previous semester, and now remain as a semi-autonomous attaché to my school."
"Super." There existed a mounting storm between the two women as Kim spoke. Its force crackled with force enough to pierce even Ron's oblivious nature. "Can we drop you off somewhere?"
"I would prefer to remain with Ron-san if it is all the same to you." Though respectful, Yori's polite request was wrapped in velvet steel. "I have some knowledge of the item that was stolen, and wish to provide whatever assistance I can."
Ron was certain the brewing tension would dissolve into a shouting match in a matter of seconds. That's why, when Kim's pocket sang its familiar four notes, he was ready to get down on his knees and thank God for small miracles.
"WHAT, Wade?" Kim snapped into her Kimmunicator.
Even a thousand miles away, Wade recoiled at Kim's nasty tone. "Sheesh. I just wanted to tell you that I finished the analysis on that sample you sent me."
There was no need for Wade to finish. Kim could read the answer on his face as she said, "It wasn't human."
If Wade was surprised, he was too professional to let it show. "Bang-on. The data matches up with that of Simius Bello, the Brawler Monkey. Very rare. They used to be bred for fights, kind of like roosters or dogs. Some still are."
Next to her, Ron began ticking off on his fingers. "Monkey idol, monkey thieves...Monkey Fist." He exchanged pointed glances with Kim, who nodded in agreement. "Looks like this mystery is in the bag."
"Lord Montgomery Fiske?" Yori spoke up from the sidelines, leaning over as if to see the Kimmunicator's screen. "The Englishman?"
"You've heard of him?" Kim sounded surprised.
"Only in passing."
"Well, you're going to meet in face-to-face soon enough." Yori could handle a few hired goons all right, but the nasty, bitter part of Kim reveled at the thought of the amateur ninja taking on a full-fledged supervillain. She allowed for a second to indulge in the unbecoming feeling, and then returned her attention to her conversation with Wade. "Can you start compiling reports? We need to track down-"
"Already found him."
Now it was Kim's turn to be caught flatfooted. "That was fast."
"Not really." The techie shrugged. "He's right where we left him."
CLANGThick, aged grease caked the bulletproof glass that separated hero and villain from their eternal struggle. It warped the twisted and hairy features of a once stately gentleman into that of the grotesque monster Kim Possible knew lied beneath the surface. A question rose in her mind, namely that of what she might look like to him, but the notion passed quickly enough. Her thoughts didn't linger long as she watched him pick up the receiver on the other side and stare back at her expectantly.
Kim stole a glance at Ron. Really, he had more to be anxious about than she. After all, Monkey Fist was his arch-nemesis, not hers. To the untrained eye, Ron seemed as calm as still waters. But the way he clutched the phone, the way his other hand cradled Rufus protectively, said otherwise. At once Kim was inspired to mirror his outward confidence. She whisked the receiver from its cradle and brought it to her ear.
"Kim Possible." Fist's rich baritone voice sounded tinny through the receiver. She watched his beady eyes dart next to her and narrow fearsomely. "I see you still refuse to leash your pet rodent. Or his hairless companion," he added with a snide smile.
A similar smile passed Ron's lips. "You owe me lunch, KP."
Monkey Fist seemed confused at both Kim's irritation and Ron's apparent glee. "Have I missed something?"
With a brief groan, Kim explained, "Ron bet me that you would insult him before you did me. I lost."
"And she knows just how much it takes to fill up the Roninator!" Ron performed a brief victory dance in his folding metal chair beneath the agitated glare of their imprisoned foe.
"Charming," Fist said dryly. "May I return to my cell now?"
Kim reassumed command of the conversation. "We need information."
"Oh, that's right. How silly of me." Fist leaned back, examining the cuticles on his hairy toes with utter disdain painted across his wide features. "I'd be delighted to help the pubescent, pathetic do-gooders for whom I can thank for my incarceration. Please, if there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate to ask."
"An idol was taken from a British museum yesterday," Kim pressed. "A monkey idol. Right up your alley."
"You caught me. I confess." Monkey Fist raised his hands as if to be cuffed. "Take me away."
Kim's eyes rolled. "So not the humor." Her gaze never left Fist's hairy face as she pulled the Kimmunicator from her pocket and placed it on the counter between them.
Through the glass, the Monkey Master watched a small blue mock-up of a familiar idol shimmer into the air. It rotated slowly, flashing a frown so similar to Kim's that it brought him a silent chuckle before he recognized the idol itself. A brief burst of horror slipped past his indifferent mask as he leaned back in his chair. "Adorable bauble. Are you redecorating?"
"The Idol of Simor." Kim would not let Fist joke his way around the issue. She slid the Kimmunicator and its hologram closer, practically against the glass. No trace of humor remained within her as she demanded, "We need to know what it can do and who would want to use it."
"Why do you assume it's magic?" countered Fist.
Ron snorted. "Dude, we are nowhere near that lucky."
For a moment, Monkey Fist stared into Ron's eyes without comment. There was no malice in his gaze, but instead, a deep sense of camaraderie. Loathe though he was to believe it, Ron could have sworn there was even some sympathy buried in those beady eyes. Somehow, this upset Ron more than any words on his foe's behalf could ever inflict.
"The Monkey's Tale," he said at last. "It's a night club in downtown Tokyo. Very ritzy. Very exclusive. There's a well-known collector of all things mystical and monkey there. He owns the club, among other things, and he might be able to tell you something about your missing trinket."
That was all they would get out of him, and Kim knew it. She collected her device and rose, giving Fist a mild look of gratitude. "We'll tell the warden you cooperated," she assured him, "But considering your rap sheet, I don't know how much good it'll do."
"You needn't trouble yourself." Monkey Fist's assurance was much colder than Kim's had been. "I'll be out of here soon enough." He glared at Ron, baring long, vicious fangs at the sidekick. "The thought of crushing the life from this pretender's miserable throat with my own teeth is more than enough to drive me onward."
Ron winked at his nemesis as he stood up. "Watch your corn chute, Monty," he advised Fist cheerily.
The two heroes walked out of the visitation room and into the adjoining hallway. The long corridor was empty save for Yori and the prison guard who awaited the meeting's end to return Fist to his cell. Yori looked questioningly between the duo, silently inquiring.
"We got a lead." Kim turned to the guard and nodded gratefully. "You can toss him back in his hole. Thanks a lot, Morey."
The middle-aged guard snuffled his large moustache. "Why, it was the least we could do after you single-handedly brought prison riot rates down across the nation, Miz Possible."
She waved the praise away, claiming, "No big. Anyone could have put together those 'Good Behavior and You' seminars."
"Excuse me." Yori tilted her head to the door as she cut into Kim's humility as politely as possible. "May I speak with the prisoner? It is not every day that one receives an opportunity such as this."
Kim scowled. Yori's presence had already deepened her bad mood. Being asked to satisfy some amateur ninja's supervillain curiosity didn't sit well with her either, but there was no real reason to say no. A forced indifference lifted her shoulders. "Sure. We'll head back to the jet."
"Wait." Ron stopped both women in their tracks as they turned to leave in opposite directions. "Do you want someone to wait with you?" By 'someone', Ron clearly meant himself. For no reason she could discern, the offer shoved a barb deep under Kim's skin. It only went deeper as Yori took Ron's hand.
She smiled. "Thank you, Ron-san. But I can find my own way back to the transport." A little quieter, she added, "Do not concern yourself. I shall not be long."
As Kim and Ron started down the hall, Yori took one last moment to gather herself. An encouraging smile from Morey saw her into the comparatively chilly room, nipping at her thin stealth suit as she approached the glass wall and table. Beady black eyes clung to her as she calmly took her seat. At first, all she did was examine him and compare the wretch before her to the powerful memory of the unstoppable madman who had overpowered her with such ease years ago.
Finally, she bowed slightly at the waist from her seat. "Lord Monkey Fist."
"I remember you." It was not a snarl so much as it was an amused realization. "you helped the buffoon foil my grab for the Lotus Blade." He paused, and added, "You honor me with the use of my full title, child."
"Merely expressing my respect." Luckily, respect was not equivalent to admiration.
"As such," he continued, "I think you want me to divulge something more." His own detective skills evidently amused him as he leaned back with a smirk. Mona Lisa could not have looked more smug or mysterious. "And what makes you think I'll tell you anything?"
Yori waited a beat. "Someone seeks the Lotus Blade."
"I know." The smile broadened. "Your old master senses it too, didn't he?" At her nod, he said, "The buffoon felt it as well. He simply does not understand."
"This lead you have provided them: Do you trust it?" If anything but the truth parted his lips, she would know it instantly.
"Trust him?" Monkey Fist chuckled. "No. But I'm relatively certain the trip won't be an entire waste of time."
Eyes, voice, skin tone, all remained stable. It was as close to the truth as Monkey Fist had ever uttered in his life. Whether or not that was any kind of truth at all remained to be seen, a thought that chilled Yori to the core as she rose to leave. She bowed to the man-ape one last time, then started toward the door.
"Oh, and child?" Monkey Fist drew some satisfaction from watching Yori stiffen. "Take good care of the buffoon and my blade. As far as I'm concerned, both are mine to do with as I see fit."
SEATBACKS IN THEIR UPRIGHT POSITIONS, PLEASEThe taxi pulled off in a streak of yellow, leaving its former occupants to choke on a cloud of exhaust in the heart of Dreidleton. Middleton's Jewish block was deathly silent at the late hour (or early, rather), which let Kim's sugary voice carry much farther than she intended.
"Wow, it sure is late." Kim stretched and feigned a yawn as they stopped in front of their tiny apartment building. The December chill bit fiercely into her grimy skin and clothes. She longed to rid herself of the black and khaki, and the makeup still caked on from her crappy date. But there was still one small problem to deal with first. "We can give you a list of hotels. Most of them owe us favors, so money won't be a problem."
A small heart attack drew Ron into a fit of hysterics. "Kim, are you livin' la vida loca? She's not staying at a hotel!" He took Yori's hand and gestured grandly to the aging, run-down building. "It's not a lot," he said, "But it's cozy, and there's plenty of room. You're welcome to stay as long as you like."
"Heh. Yeah...How long is that going to be, anyway?" The question hadn't sounded half as rude in Kim's head as it did coming out of her mouth.
"Kim!"
Yori bowed slightly and clapped her hands together. "I do not wish to be a burden," she said. Her features were calm and unreadable; Ron had more than enough mortification for the both of them. "I must see this investigation through to its conclusion."
A strong arm encircled her shoulders and led her up the stairs. "And until you do," Ron told her, "You stay with us. No arguments." There was a protest on Kim's tongue that Ron's firm tone skewered preemptively. The matter was closed: Yori stayed with them.
They conquered the stairs to their door in silence. It wasn't until they reached the yellowing paint of Apartment Twenty-Six that Ron broke the silence with a grand gesture and homespun fanfare. The tomfoolery almost made Kim smile, until she remembered whom it was for.
He struggled with the lock a moment before throwing the door wide open. Rufus leapt to his shoulder and squeaked a 'Ta-Da' as Run ushered her in. "C'mon. Su casa es mi casa."
The tiny home stared Yori in the face. It was relatively clean, and haunted by garlic and cilantro. A single light buzzed softly overhead, bathing the room in yellow. Yori allowed herself a moment, immersed in Team Possible's living quarters, and then spoke with total conviction. "It is just as I imagined it," she said softly.
Ron scampered about as Rufus settled into his bowl on the kitchen counter for the night. There seemed to be a thousand things Ron had forgotten about that now spat in his face. He quickly swept last night's dinner from its perch on the back of a chair as his foot helped a forgotten pair of boxers hide beneath the futon. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?" he asked.
"No." Yori looked down at her skintight suit and the bundle of robes draped in her arm. The sweaty, clingy spandex was wearing thin on her tired nerves as well as her knees. "But I could use a change of clothes, if-"
"Great." Kim grasped the young ninja by the shoulders and propelled her into a bedroom, speaking instructions in a clipped tone. "You just dig around and find something comfortable that fits."
"But-"
One last shove saw their guest into the room. Kim slammed the door shut, then whirled upon Ron like a hurricane in Florida. "What the hell is going on, Ron?"
A decade of Kim's self-righteous huffing and puffing had immunized Ron to her terrible wrath. He squared his shoulders and shot back, "I could say the same thing to you, KP. You practically threw her out onto the street!"
"Yuh-huh!" Exasperated, she gestured at the ceiling. "That's what you do with strangers who invite themselves in."
"Yori's not a stranger." Scarlet began seeping into Ron's cheeks, though his voice remained low so as not to be overheard. "She's my friend. We met in Japan."
Hands on hips, lips pursed, it was clear that Kim still wasn't satisfied. She closed the gap between them and lowered her tone. "That's odd," she said sarcastically, "I don't seem to recall anything about a geisha in the little bit I've pried out of you about Japan."
That shot seemed to strike home, for Ron's voice rose sharply. "Yori's is not a geisha!"
"See, I'm a little confused about this new policy of ours," Kim continued. "When did we decide it was okay to bring unqualified outsiders on missions?"
"Oh, and Monkey Boy was vital to that trip to New York?"
Kim's argument floundered a moment. "That was different," she insisted. "We were raising awareness on traffic violations, and...Look, the two situations are completely opposite."
"Yeah," he replied smugly, "Yori's actually useful in a fight."
The entire point of the argument spiraled down the tubes, carried away by a flood of mutual anger. "I can't believe you never told me about your little girlfriend. How could you keep something this major from me?"
"I told you already," he said with growing volume, "We're just friends. And since when do I report to you? Do I have to tell you everything?"
The demand struck Kim like a slap in the face. All her anger siphoned away, making way for the sharp anguish that followed. "You used to," she reminded him in a small voice.
A creaking groan froze their heated argument and heralded Yori's return. Kim turned to face the newcomer with words-an apology or another biting remark, she wasn't sure which-already on her lips. But the sight of Yori stole her very breath away, words and all. Instead, she felt her anger returning anew, along with a snappish self-loathing. Ron was speechless as well, but for different reasons; both had been so anxious to yell at each other that neither realized it hadn't been Kim's room Yori was forced into.
"I hope I am not interrupting anything." Yori brushed a stray lock of raven hair behind her ear. As a result, the oversized red pullover hanging from her willowy frame slipped off of one shoulder and revealed flawlessly smooth bronzed skin beneath. The hem of Ron's favorite shirt hung at mid-thigh, letting Yori's tantalizing legs taper the rest of the way to the floor bare. Upon Ron's stare, she blushed lightly, a feat Kim had not seen up to that point. "Is this choice of attire inappropriate?"
Ron did not wait for Kim to speak. He knew too well of his friend's eloquence, and did not give her a chance to launch the tirade he knew lurked beneath her shocked exterior. "Gosh it's late why don't I get you settled in my room I'll take the couch no don't worry I insist." He wheeled forward, merging his thoughts into frantic strips of speech as he bulldozed Yori back into his room as gently as he could. "What a day you should get to bed night Kim!"
The door, in its infinite mercy, saw fit to slam shut behind Ron's retreat before Kim could produce so much as an utterance. Safe within the squalor of his own room, Ron at last relaxed, and let free the rest of his breath held fast in his tight, twisted innards. As with so many other times, Ron pondered the double-faced nature of his luck; once again, he had survived another day of danger and intrigue, only to bring home with him a situation three thousand and twelve times more hazardous than any mere museum heist.
Soft, tittering laughter drew him back to the present with a start. He turned around and immediately regretted it. His eyes rolled this way and that, any direction that didn't take them to the enticing young woman boxed in his room. "Yori," he groaned, once again growing red-faced, "That was totally uncalled for."
Yori's laughter continued as she slunk over to Ron. "I disagree," she said. Much to his relief, her advance halted a few feet away. She stood with arms clasped before her, combining with her exposed skin to form one hell of a pose. "The results were most informative. I do believe there were some aspects of Kimberly-san you neglected to mention. Willfully, perhaps?" The tone carried with it more than a little accusation.
"Kim is...well, she's Kim." There was no explaining it, really, so he didn't try. Even he was somewhat surprised at the force of her reaction. "Besides, that's not the point."
"No." The remaining distance between them vanished, enticing Ron's sweat glands into overdrive. "The point is, we have yet to finish the discussion we began when you last left Yamanouchi."
Suddenly all of Yori's bizarre behavior snapped into context. "The kiss, the jokes, the...outfit," he swallowed hard as Yori smiled, and forced his wandering gaze northward. "You were testing Kim."
"You are correct regarding the jests and attire," she confirmed for him. A light blush arced across her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Almond met amber as she stared into his nervous eyes. The tension she felt between them tasted sweet to Yori, exactly the flavor she sought to generate. Now she needed more. "The kiss," she admitted, "Was for me."
Ron saddened, but he remained somber and steadfast. "I'm in love with Kim, Yori. Sometimes I wish I wasn't." He stopped, feeling the heat of her body generate all manner of reactions from his treacherous frame. "Times like now," he added. "But there's nothing I can do about it."
"She does not love you," challenged Yori, "Not in the same way."
"It doesn't matter."
Yori held fast as he tried to break her grip. She pressed herself against him, pushing their union back against the door. "It matters to me," she insisted. "You have stated your case. Now I shall state mine."
"Yori..."
"I intend to observe Kimberly-san carefully." Raw determination steamrolled over the sultry, teasing tone in her voice. "And through my observations, I shall determine whether or not she is worthy of your affections. If she is, then so be it. If she is not," and a glimmer entered her eyes at this, "Then I shall stop at nothing until you are mine."
The bold statement hammered into Ron. "I, uh...I don't...wow."
She smiled. "A ninja does not hesitate: She strikes swiftly, thrusting to the heart of the matter." Her fingers teased the tip of his nose as she added in a coy tone, "You would do well to remember that."
The comment hung between their reddened faces before both of them broke into giggles. Ron allowed his arms to encircle her shapely, slender waist. He rested his forehead against hers, letting their noses touch as he closed his eyes and drank in her scent. "I remember a girl in Japan who could barely crack a pun. Whatever happened to her?"
Yori's smile tripled. "She had an excellent sensei who showed her the true power of humor." Her lips touched against his nose before she said, "I missed you, Ron-kun."
"I missed you to, Yo-chan." For a brief moment, the two teens pushed the rest of the planet away and celebrated their reunion. But it wasn't long before the pressure of the world collapsed their joyous bubble. "Yori," he murmured, "I need to know why you're here. And don't feed me that line you gave Kim. I don't believe it for a minute."
All the joy in Yori's beauty vanished in the space of a breath. She disentangled herself from Ron and instead folded her arms around herself, chasing away an intangible chill. "It is a mission most foul, I fear." Ron had never seen her so upset, and they had been in life-or-death situations together. "Sensei is in need of your assistance."
"Anything for the S-Man." Ron approached her and placed a reassuring hand on her trembling frame. "It has something to do with this case, doesn't it?"
She nodded. "Our way of life is in danger of being extinguished. An outsider seeks the Lotus Blade."
Ron's eyes exploded and his jaw went slack. "You're shitting me."
"I am not." Her whole body trembled as she threw herself to Ron once more. This time, her embrace was a desperate one, as if Ron would vanish were she to let go. "Ron, the Sensei believes that you are the key...and as a result, your very life is in grave peril." A single tear disappeared into the dark fabric of his shirt as she said, "If we do not succeed, you could die."
His arms moved mechanically across Yori's back. Ron desperately wished he could comfort Yori somehow. Seeing the strong, proud warrior reduced to shaking tears broke his heart, but what he really needed was some comfort of his own. There must have been some perfect words, a turn of phrase that could have calmed Yori instantly while restoring his own frayed nerves at the same time. Sadly, Ron's was not an eloquent mindset. Only one thing escaped the jumble of fear and confusion, and like all his other thoughts, he vocalized it immediately.
"Aw, snap."
To Be Continued