35
Ron felt dirty, like he needed a long shower back home.
While order surrounded him, everything had a place and everything had been placed appropriately, the commandant's décor reflected otherwise. Articles and clippings from periodicals and newspapers were glued to the walls, pertinent somewhat to little Drazen and his "family". Pictures were even on the ceiling, plastered haphazardly in no particular order. Most were a nasty yellow, crisp to the touch, while a few were as fresh as a couple of days ago.
It didn't bother him that much, but those pictures… so many, how they dappled so randomly on the ceiling and the walls that you couldn't miss them. He wasn't sure what the photographer was looking at or what he was trying to capture the essence of. On one, floating in a transparent pool was a blob of something, formless and purposeless; bad film, probably. Another photo depicted form more eloquently. It had a lengthy tail, a fat head, a beady eye, and two tiny sticks for arms poking out of its tiny-
-Is that what I think it is…-
-Body.
It didn't take him long to put two and two together. Fetuses, all of those tiny square slips of paper pictured fetuses! Some picturing them back when they looked like malformed lizards while the rest featured full term babies! The latter had thick, nasty tubes and wires piercing at each orifice on some while the rest were…. He couldn't say it; it was simply too unnerving to even think about, and those disgusting pictures deserved not the respect of even being thought about in the slightest. The most prudent question could not be answered. Certainly not by him by any means, and he wasn't sure that Mrs. Dr. Possible would fare any better.
Why? What was the purpose of it all, what purpose did those little imperfect squares of Polaroid hold below the color? The photos were purposely vague. Or were they? Maybe the answer was staring him in the face, just like old man Drazen when he slid open a desk drawer. That old bastard scowled rather vengefully at him when he picked up the frame too.
"I'm wasting time." He frowned. The desk banged when he shoved the drawer back inside. "It could be Uzi's baby pictures for all I know. I'm still not any closer to Kim, but I have to say that old Drazen raised such a strange little man!"
The radio chirped at him. He sighed while its uncomfortable clip snapped off his belt. Just when he got the blasted thing to fit in a small space between two pockets of his utility belt too. Oh well.
"Nacho Man." The set spoke to him in Yune's unmistakable voice. "This is -Kimchi! Do you read me? Over."
"-Kimchi-" he thumbed the button, "this is Nacho Man, because I like to be-a Nacho Man! It's good to hear your voice again. Over."
"Likewise." Yune agreed. "What's your status?"
"In the bad Major's quarters," he replied, "towards the rear of this facility, I think! How should I know? It wouldn't be the first time I got turned around and mixed up in this strange joint, I'll tell you what! But did you ever know bad old Uzi personally? He's rather twisted, isn't he?"
"No I didn't. But I've heard my share of stories. He's nothing but bad news. I've heard rumors about a twin or some kind of failed clone, but nothing paned out well. I might have seen it earlier today, that freak on wheels but who knows!"
"Goody." He sighed. "But how about you? What's your twenty?"
"Everything's okay on this end-Nacho Man-." The Asian replied. "Except one thing."
"What's that?"
"It's Shia." Yune said soberly. "He's dead, wouldn't take his medicine like he should have. I tried to give him some, but…. No, I'd rather not get into the details right now. But at least he told us or gave us some sort of hint on your location."
"Oh really?"
"Nacho Man," Yune asked seriously, "does King Solomon's Mine mean anything to you?"
"That old copper mine?" he blinked incredulously. "Are you sure you heard him right?"
"Affirmative." The man replied. "It was the only clue we managed to sweat out of him. Some place called the 'Organ Grinder'."
"What?" he blinked again.
"Nacho Man," Yune asked, "does any of those words mean anything to you, anything at all? Think carefully now; think about any conversation you've overheard or file you skimmed over, or anything!"
"Not a damn thing when it comes to organ grinders, except when it comes to pipe organs and such." He shrugged. "But King Solomon's Mine, that's clear at the southern point of Israel, a short drive from the town of Semar. There the locals call it -Mikhrot Shelomo Hamelekh-. I remember going there when I was still living in Israel, back when I was a little kid, but I wasn't that impressed. But just remembering, it'd be improbable to fit a whole instillation there!"
"I know." The Korean affirmed. "That's what I thought, but we're not counting anything out-not this late in the game! I just called Hershel about it. She's skeptical too, but she's not taking any chances. Expect some serious backup soon. How's your equipment?"
"You mean this revolver?" he gave that cold lump a gentle pat. Thankfully he didn't have to use it just yet. "Still taking up space in my pants. Haven't had to use it; this whole place looks like a ghost town. Predictable though. Everybody's clustered around what a map called the 'docking bay'."
"Just like I thought for the most part." Yune said. "How's your fail-safe?"
Ah… his fail-safe, that little ball of warmth that took up his burrow in another pocket. Gently, he gave him a pat as well.
"He's good, overall." He nodded. "Though it's a little too cold for his tastes. I told him to pack a sweater, but does he listen to me? No…! But there's one more thing I have to ask you-Kimchi-."
"Make it quick." -Kimchi- replied. "You've got a little over an hour before midnight."
"I know, but how's Robin doing?" he asked seriously. "About Shia…? She's okay, right? She's not going to kill herself, is she?"
"Nope." Yune said. "We weren't sure at first, just when he crossed over, but she's handling it fairly well. She hasn't come after me with a butcher knife, but I wouldn't be surprised if she did."
"And what about you?" he asked. "What are you guys going to do?"
"Nothing much." The Asian replied. "Hershel's probably going to take it from here. This might be the last time we talk for a while, Nacho Man, so watch yourself."
"And why's that?"
"We've… got a bar to clean up!"
He blinked. "What?"
"Take care now, Nacho Man." Yune said. "-Kimchi, over and out."
"Great…." He sighed, parting his pouches enough so that the belt clip could snap on. "Just great…!"
He yanked the flap crowning the pocket flanking his foreleg, Velcro parting from each other with a hearty rip. His leg finally had the chance to warm again as he dragged that revolver out. Cold steel in his hand, he drew the hammer back a couple clicks, letting that fat cylinder swivel swiftly in the frame-
"Okay Uzi," he said, "you want to play…?"
-Seizing instantly as he drew that claw hammer all the way.
"Let's play…!"
-
Never before had Uzi noticed how cold the Organ Grinder could be, especially at night. His breath revealed itself before him with every breath that passed out his lips, pluming up and away from him like smoke from a smoke stack. It was his only indicator ever since he had the displeasure of his -makeover, courtesy of Kim Possible and that blonde witch.
The halogens shined down upon him brightly as he sat upon the good doc's table, naked from the pistol belt up. His jacket, shirt, even that cape was piled at his feet, dropped indifferently on the pavement. His delivery system had been completed just a few minutes ago, ready for a fitting at the behest of his medically trained tailor. Simply thinking of the snowy-haired, tin-eyed man, he couldn't help but ponder.
-Have we truly never met before-
Footsteps tapped out from the other side of the room, in the shade where the doc disappeared moments before, close to a workstation dimly lit by a naked bulb. The uncertainty melted off of him in thick globs when he caught site of those two loafers, walking out from the shadow. There was no time for it now, not a second to second guess. It was too late in the game for it, his resolve cool and firm, sharp like those needles-those lengthy, pointy needles, slanting out at painful angles from a piece of curved tarp the doc held like a tray.
"Oh Major Drazen…." The good doctor called for him.
The light shined off that slicked back cap of white brilliantly as he strolled completely out of the shade… just like those needles. Though the burden of all proximal feeling had been lifted off him completely, the knot in his stomach couldn't help but tighten at the very sight of them. So thin, so sharp, and pointy; it was unnerving. Something so sinister should not be inserted into the flesh-EVER!
"Major Drazen, are you ready for your fitting?" the doc asked.
"I am…." He nodded slowly…. The motion sickness held him tight in its sickening grasp-AGAIN! "-Oh…- But… we don't have a whole lot of time! We're moving out in a few hours tops."
"I know that, Sir." The doctor replied. "But you cannot rush this! One screw up could mean instant death for you."
"Instant death?" he sighed. "Certain death has been tailing me for a long time, Doc, ever since I met my real father and joined up with him. Its been hunting me since that botched job on the American coast, and I was sure it had me when that goddamn bitch put the grapple in my neck!"
"A miracle you survived, Sir." The doc noted. "You should have been dead."
"I guess I wasn't ready to go yet…." He shrugged barely. "-Oh…-"
"The motion sickness again?"
"Yes…."
"I've been expecting this!" the doc smirked though his eyes did not. "Since I caught your-err-trip- on the television, I've been busy in the temperature control lab when I wasn't working on your suit. I've created a variant of your drug, Sir. A two-for-one package, if you will. I've taken the anabolic steroids and combined it with the active properties of your scopolamine supplements."
"That means…."
"That's right, Major Drazen." He nodded contently. "At the slightest hint of weakness or nausea, just push a button and all will be right with your world."
The gray doctor flipped the curved tarp around, letting the weight of those two hefty tanks sweep the nasty side upside down. In the light, the shine of the metal was nowhere near as brilliant as the sheen on the glass. From the tanks, black tubes, both thick, thin, and every girth in between, ran along the area of the tarp and beyond; ending nastily with lengthy, thin needles. A pale green substance barely jiggled inside. He wasn't sure if it were frozen or gelatin. Between the two reservoirs sat the crowning touch, familiar Hebrew characters stitched thickly in red.
"And what if I need a refill?" he asked.
"Simple plug and play, Major." The doc said. "These reservoirs are removable, and think of the braces that hold them can act like a guide. Just pop them out from over head, and slip a fresh one home. Each have a valve, so don't worry about spilling all over. Each weigh less than half a pound empty, and weigh just less than two pounds. I've taken the liberty to construct special pouches in this vest for two extra reservoirs."
"Sounds easy enough." He shrugged.
"Plus I stashed a few in Rex's telemetry tower, by your seat, should you need them." The doc said. "But just like regular Goliath, I warn you not to be a so generous with your doses. The drug will keep flowing into you as long as you hold the button down, so be careful."
"And if that happens?"
"It's a psychotropic." The doc's lips pressed into a grim line. "Insanity and extreme aggression till the drug wears off. But by then, it might be too late if you know what I mean."
"Just like I thought." He nodded. "Anything else?"
"Well, there is the matter that brought you here in the first place, Major Drazen." The doc's smile was sharp as a knife, those nasty needles flipping right side up.
"Oh boy…!" he swallowed.
"Come now, Uzi." The doc chuckled so sadistically, so devilishly that he ought to have the doc reprimanded. "This won't hurt a bit. Now I need you to lay on your belly."
"Yeah right." He sighed.
He kicked his leg up; sweeping it onto the table while his tin leg needed his helping hand. His lips pushed uncomfortably against his teeth, and his belly flattened against the table as he rolled prone. The thick, heavy mat of spiky unnerving fell on his back, flopping onto his flesh like a towel-a crusty, nasty towel. It didn't get to him too much when that nasty mat got heavier in separate places, pushing into him awkwardly… deeply. It was only for his good.
"See?" the doc said. "Is it really so bad?"
He shook his head.
Then came a steady hum. "Thought not. And you're almost done, Major Drazen. But let me get the pizza paddle really quick. Got to make sure those needles are in!"
For the first time, he actually squeaked.
-
Stick man shifted before Kimberly swiftly, from left to right although those dark, imposing boots of his didn't twitch at all. Yet that lean piece of excrement did swing position, from left to right every time she felt that strange fist smash into her face, into her body. Yet those thin switches of his were kept squarely behind his back. It didn't take a genius to show her what was happening.
Since the stet Drazen said his goodbyes, the younger one kept that terrible jaw closed, letting its good hand do the screeching and the growling for it. She snorted strongly at Tank Man, feeling something more than what should have trickled out her nostril. Cool, sticky, a very metallic taste when it dripped between her lips, almost like copper.
"Nothing like having a cherry popped, is there?" Eli smirked weakly. "Don't worry though, your button nose would have surely gotten used to it if I didn't have my orders."
That strange fist punched against her side again. She could have sworn she felt a free rib bend further than what it was supposed to.
"-GAH-" She yelped. "Why-are you doing this…?"
"Don't be so dense, 96." The stick man said. "Is it really so hard to comprehend?"
-She gagged. The fist found her belly for the first time, driving itself in, the blocky knuckles were right at home when it gave them a twist.
"YES!" she yelled. "GOD…!"
"Your mother cooks meat back at your house, does she not?" the stick man asked irrelevantly-yet she couldn't help how apt her haunting suspicion was.
"Yes…." She nodded. "A couple times…. She can make a mean sirloin that will knock you sideways and then some."
"Good." Stick face nodded. That face, it was so stiff, so wooden she was amazed gravity didn't yank him to the ground. "Before you can throw it on the grill or marinate it, you have to tenderize the meat first. Have you ever had tough meat before, 96? Because I can tell you that it's not fun!"
"Gee-thanks…!" she sneered weakly. It pained her even to grin. Strength drained from her muscles, dripping onto the glittering pavement below, pooling next to scarlet-her very own scarlet while it dried-baked in the harsh light. "NOT!"
"Now," Eli said, boots squelching wetly as he truly turned for the door, "I will be back in a minute. I need a couple things from the mess hall. This is going to get messy. Galil and I so want to enjoy this. Not that you'll be around when I come back, that is!"
Tank Man growled greedily… hungrily… eagerly.
"Goodbye, WKD4496." Eli threw her a half salute as he strolled through the open door… and out the next one. "We won't meet again!"
The steady, whining drone of Tank Man's tracks sealed her fate like the hot wax on the final letter of her life, Galil's hideous face staring back, grinning as it pressed its proverbial stamp into the wax. Its few lengthy strands of hair, natural hair waved at her dismissively while the rest of it rolled for the door, closing the door with its ridiculous talon as it spun around. It wanted privacy for its gruesome, damnable deed.
Its little tongue peeked at her at one corner of its twisted mouth, slipping from one corner to the other. A thin line of crimson was drawn, growing thicker as its blood oozed down the belly of that mandible blade. Its hazel eyes opened wider, its odd nostrils flared, and the falling and rising of its scarred chest quickened. It was excited; its own blood excited it!
The timed player in her mind fired up, flashing her life before her eyes. Scenes she had long forgotten about, ones just recently; her life completely. It wasn't the first time it played; her nemeses often handled it lackadaisically enough for her to weasel out. Her family, her friends, even Bonnie; there were so many missed opportunities, missed chances to come clean with everyone. And Ron… Ronald Stoppable, the man whom she probably was going to marry. She was never going to see any of them again.
She wanted to cry-
-"Blah…!" -
-But didn't as she felt something wet touch upon the small of her back, just above the waistband of her panties. It drew slowly up her spine, savoring the flesh of her s-curve where soft skin and metal touched together. Her bra strap snapped back into place as that wet, nasty thing slid up to her shoulders. Her breath fouled by the stench of its own. Its very stink felt as though it were beginning to condensate, dripping onto her neck in nasty dribbles.
They both gasped shallowly. This was it!
-KA-BANG-
Tank Man growled terribly at the ephemerally pitched sound of cracking glass-and a familiar touch of cool and sticky splashed onto her neck and shoulder. A racket banged out behind her, clattering like a bunch of large pieces of metal had hit the nasty ground all at once. A neat, clean hole had been punched in the one-way pane before her, about the size of a dime-and there was movement behind it!
Her savior hurried into view through the open door before her, closing the one that led to the rest of the facility. That door snapped as a black glove pushed the button on the knob. A small revolver shined brilliantly its nickel plating, a stern contrast to the darkness of the other glove. Blond hair, messy hair capped his head, freckles just below those two chocolate eyes dotting his boyish face squarely.
"Kim!" he squealed blaringly.
"R-Ron…?" she gasped.
-
It may have taken him a while to find the right room, but the good Lord made sure that he found Kim just in the nick of time. A drawn, lanky man had walked out of the observation room, his thin face cold and emotionless and set in stone-concrete perhaps. Thankfully Ron took to the underside of the nearby table flanking the door mere moments before the lanky man turned on a screeching heel. The man called back, not bothering to turn around as he stalked down the hall.
Carefully, he peeked over the edge of the table, just over the sill of the window!
-Uzi…-
The shape of the head, the nose, how his cheekbones barely peeked through the flesh of his face, and those eyes dotted with hazel. It had to be Drazen… or was it? An abused twin maybe, or even some sort of failed attempt at a clone perhaps? Its strange chest sat upon a tray that was flanked by four thick straps that rolled as it saw fit. A huge terrible claw of metal was fastened to it at the left shoulder. It growled strangely as turned around, somehow pushed the door beside him to a close.
His brain found purpose for that piece of cold steel clenched in his hand. He recognized it instantly as he thumbed the hammer all the way. His legs steadied him as he sprung to his feet, his free hand taking up the load of the dead weight as he brought it level to that strange melon as the rest of it rolled for Kim.
Kim hanged there helplessly as the tank person rolled behind her, chained at her wrists by two heavy-duty manacles, nasty looking, raw and crudely formed like ones he'd seen in many a dungeon. Stripped of her clothes and the dignity she held, he could have sworn a little drop sparkle at her eye. She was going to die; she knew it, though he couldn't be bothered to acknowledge it-he wouldn't. He strangled that plastic grip as though it were Drazen's own throat.
Then did he catch the terrible sight of that thing's jaw, cold and hard just like his revolver, simply unpolished though the light didn't seem to mind. It gleamed off the crude mandible brightly like it was on the finest polished surface in the land… sinking below the peak of Kim's small shoulder though the upper teeth dropped not. In fact, they came forward a couple of inches, casting a thin shadow upon her shoulder, shifting closer while the shade slipped up her neck. He'd never seen her face, so soft, so angelic; twist so painfully as a couple drops-thick and cloudy, nasty drops-fell upon her flesh.
He couldn't take it anymore.
A small cloud of dust puffed in his face as he sent that freak a message, forged in a slug with a damaging flat nose when it blew out of its greasy cocoon, crashing-smashing though the glass. The pairs of eyes in the next room popped open wide, wider even at that thundering sound. The freak's shriek terrible, but he jumped not as its blood splashed out its horrible mouth, slapping the nasty floor while some splashed on the girl. The Drazen wannabe fell over backwards; carried by its own damn claw-and it hit the ground in a terrible crash as though someone dropped all the silverware at once-and then some.
Unless one was deaf, then nobody within an earshot could have missed the racket. Quickly, he rushed over to the door flanking him, swinging it shut with boot and popping the privacy set locked with a slam of that little button on the knob. He seized the knob beside him then, turning it, his spine rolling in his body as the hinges' shriek hit his ears. Though he knew, only witnessing her moments before when he sneaked into the room, it wouldn't click in his brain-it simply wouldn't. He had actually saved her!
-But how's that different from any other mission…-
He shrugged it off as he set foot in the nasty room, feeling his short lunch work its way back up his throat as he took a short glance around. The room, wide and lengthy, speckled and dappled with crusty black and browns, strewn about with organic nastiness on the floor that sloped gently to a crusty, bloodied drain at the center. The freak on the upturned wheels loved to get his hands dirty, all right…!
"Kim!" he squeaked nervously.
"R-Ron…?" she blinked. "Is that really you…?"
"Yeah." He nodded, hurrying himself toward her. "I've come to save the day…. I hope…!"
His arms wrapped around her chest tightly, squeezing all the joy and happiness he felt into her. But out her mouth came a strained groan, thick with the ache and the pain she must have endured.
"-OH-" She barked. "Ron, please…! Not now…."
"Oh…." His arms dropped from her completely. "I'm sorry."
"Forget about it, Ron." She forced herself to smirk just the slightest. "Just get me down!"
"Right."
He nodded complacently, the length of her chest up falling below him as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling. Those crude restraints were mere manacles, just the ancient form of handcuffs he'd read about back in history, during the infamous inquisition, with a very thick, imposing chain in between. A thick hook that dangled from the ceiling held that chain firmly, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. It really wasn't as his arms wrapped around the girl just above her hips, hoisting her up. The chain made a racket, jangling loudly-and it slapped him on the back firmly when Kim did the rest.
"Sorry 'bout that!" she apologized.
"Forget it." He shook it off as he set her down upon her feet. "My back though…!"
"Like I said before." She said. Her chains jangled as she yanked them taut. "But we don't have much time. Do you know how to get these things off quickly?"
"Glad you asked, KP!" he smirked, giving the pocket on his pants a hearty pat. The warm blob inside wiggled predictably. "And you said I should get a normal pet…!"
"Not -now, Ron…!" she frowned.
"Of course!" he nodded. "Rufus, you're on little buddy!"
His pocket flattened against his leg, the soft weight lifting up off him as his little buddy wormed his way out. Those little claws of his tapped on the grimy pavement just after he leapt off, clicking metrically as he scampered for Kim's feet. Her toes curled a little when the rodent clambered up her instep, lifting himself to his hind legs, those huge buckteeth arcing when he opened his little mouth-
-And down those teeth came swiftly, slicing through the accessory cord like it were threadbare. The freshly cut ends whipped around her ankles as she put her feet back to good use, rolling off into a lengthy ovoid around her feet. Time for those nasty chains but Rufus was way ahead of him, scampering carefully up the length of her legs, her torso, and up her arms. Kim cringed as he clawed his way up her forearms. Again those buckteeth rocked back slowly-
-And down them came, again and again and again, so swiftly, too many times to even try to count. Sparks flew; lines of yellow shot out from the pet in a bright fountain, hissing as each of them vanished on the ground below in a wisp of gray, all the way down the length of the manacle till-
-CHINK-
-The soft color of her flesh blossomed through the raw steel like a patch dandelions on concrete. The heavy chain jangled like a leather strap full of Christmas bells, sweeping low off her wrist, swaying like a pendulum on a grandfather clock. Rufus took a leap of faith, jumping from one wrist to the other. Kim bared her teeth, growling, as the rat caught on by a claw.
"Rufus!" she ungratefully whined.
A drop of red fattened there, smearing while Rufus scampered its way up her other forearm. Another haze of bright yellow poured onto the pavement, shifting down the length of her wrist and then some when the rodent put its teeth to work. The chain dropped at his feet with a heavy -clank-.
"Thanks…." She smirked, thumbing that little smear of red. "I think."
"You think…?" he blinked. "I just saved you from impending doom, and all you can do is think?"
"We're not out of the woods yet, Ron!" she took a knee briefly, scooping up that heavy chain with a hands. She let out a grunt-and the chain rolled over her shoulder like a common rope, nearly clipping him in the face in the process. "And from the way things look, the numbers aren't on our side! How's the trip over?"
"Deserted, practically." He shrugged. "A guard here and there pulling guard duty, but I didn't take any chances. Something big is about to go down; everybody on site's about to move out!"
"Just like I thought." She shook her head.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
"I've just been 'tenderized', Ron." She said bitterly. "My shoulder sucks, and my leg felt better days, but it's not as bad as it was Saturday afternoon! I can handle myself. But we have to get out of here, quickly! If freak-head here gets a clear head, then we're as good as dead!"
"What are you talking about, KP?" he blinked. "I put one through his mouth! There's no way he could have survived that!"
A strange noise rang through the nasty room, a buzzing, crackling sound and a terrible squawk like a crow that landed on a threadbare power line. Metal shrieked nearby, moaning and groaning painfully as though someone was ripping it, tearing it a new one.
"Guess he did!" Kim exclaimed barely over the rattling chain.
The end of it fell to the floor with a clanging -THUNK, dragging, scratching at the pavement as Kim stormed right for the creature as it twitched, writhing in a small puddle of its own reddish fluids. Standing beside its head, just out of its reach, she reared that chain behind her-then above her-and then over her deflated mane! Out came from the freak a noise he had never heard before nor did he wish to ever hear it again-but he did when Kim brought it down again… and again… and again…. Its blood had splashed against her shins, oozing down her forelegs in thin trails.
Kim finally rolled that chain onto her shoulder again, drips of its blood oozing onto her shoulder and the floor. Her chest heaved dramatically; her breath drew inside her through bared teeth and snarled lips, and her eyes were locked, frozen into a terrible, quivering rage. It was terrifying, like their botched date all over again.
"That should keep it… for a while…!" she panted.
"-Blah…-" Rufus brought himself to gag, scurrying back up to his burrow.
"Feel better now, Kim?" he asked firmly. "Hope so, 'cause we got a lot of ground to cover!"
"I've been tenderized, Ron…!" She hunched, an arm wrapping around her waist tightly like a constricting snake. Her teeth were bared through widely parted lips, sneering and twitching. "God, it hurts…!"
"Tenderized…?" he blinked.
"Don't ask." She shook her head violently, cringing. "Just… don't! But-do you have some painkillers or something?"
"Sure." he sighed, folding his arms irritably. "I'm just a walking chemist! Let me whip the magic bottle of ibuprofen out of my ass! But whoops-sorry! My trunk is fresh out!"
"Shit, Ron!" she growled back. "You don't have to be an ass about it!"
"We're practically out of time!" He exclaimed. "Everybody's leaving, and Drazen expects you dead by now! And just where do we fish for painkillers-that laboratory I saw? Hello-that's clear on the other side of the complex, AKA fifteen minutes out of the way!"
"Yes!" she exclaimed back. "It's a start, anyway…!"
"What?" he blinked.
"Just take me there, Ron!" she made her way for the door the best she could, hobbling while she angled most of her weight through one leg. "We don't have much time!"
"That's what I've been saying!" he threw up his hands. "And what do you say to the man who rescued you, huh? A thank you wouldn't kill you, you know!"
"Come -ON, Ron!" she growled back.
"Back to normal, all right…!" he sighed. "I give up."