xxXXxx
Chapter 11: To bring the pieces back together

His eyes wide and his hair dishevelled, Ron Stoppable screamed as he swung the side door to Middleton High shut. It closed with a pneumatic sigh and a muted clank as the latch clicked against the receiver inset into the door frame, but that reassuring noise was insufficient surety for the frightened teen. He leaned against the door, bracing his legs against the dusty tile floor for better leverage, seeking to hold the door more securely than the simple locking mechanism could.

A few people in the hallway at this hour of the morning - bare minutes after the doors had been unlocked at 7:30 - watched Ron's inexplicable behavior (most attributing it simply to Ron being Ron) curiously, but Ron ignored them and all other distractions as he panted for breath, his pale complexion flushed and blotchy from his exertions. He braced himself more securely, wincing as the sound of talons scratching against the concrete walkway slowly grew louder and louder... and closer and closer...

Claws skittered across the doorjamb, seeking purchase on the brick, polished stone, and metal surrounding the doorway to no avail. As though enraged at being stymied by the unyielding barrier Ron held closed, a dull thump resounded as a heavy body was flung against the exterior.

The door pushed against Ron's back as the barrier was tested. With the aid of Ron's reinforcement, the entry proved sturdy enough to resist the impact without yielding to the assault.

Ron could hear a snuffling sound, as of inhuman nostrils scenting the air, through the dubious protection offered by the sealed door. Hearing this, his panting breath grew even more ragged as the thudding of his heartbeat echoed hollowly in his ears.

With the sound of his beating heart and the blood rushing madly through his veins filling his ears, Ron's panic grew. His bodily noises were not nearly loud enough to drown out the small sounds made by the creature that continued to lurk beyond the walls of the school, seeking a manner of entry - and a way to reach the frightened teen cowering within.

Flinching, Ron closed his eyes as he braced himself more forcefully as another impact thudded against the door. With his body braced at a sharper angle, the leverage was greater, and the door barely moved at the new assault upon the doorway.

For a moment, there was silence, both within and without, and Ron dared to hope that the attack was finally over. Maybe the creature that had hounded him, dogging his steps all the way from home, had finally given up the chase - or so he silently hoped and prayed.

"Rarf! Arf! Yark!" Snarling and snapping, the white- flecked black muzzle of a German shepherd dripped with saliva and froth as it suddenly appeared in the window above Ron's flinching form. The terrifying avatar of canine ferocity was followed almost immediately by the rest of the animal's front half as it rose onto its hind legs to peer into the school.

The dog was massive, its head nearly level with Ron's as he jerked upright and away from the vision of rage. The animal's liquid brown eyes glinted menacingly even as the forepaws slid down the window glass as it lost its precarious balance. The dog dropped from sight beneath the door's window, but Ron knew the disappearance was only an illusion.

"No... no... no..." Ron pleaded quietly, more as an unconscious prayer than from any real hope of the dog's obedience to his instructions. "Nice puppy... You don't want to eat me... Good puppy. Nice puppy..."

"What are you doing Ron?" Kim asked as she walked up beside her cringing friend. Peering through the window, she blinked as the dog continued to work itself into a frenzy outside the door. "Is that Mr. Mathers' dog?"

"I'm not doing anything - except running for my life! And I didn't do anything to make it mad, either!" Ron protested, torn between the conflicting urges to flee down the hallway and brace himself against the door once more. "Mom got me up, gave me this speech about how proud she was of me, then said to hurry so I wouldn't be late for school." Ron pointed through the window with one trembling finger, "I didn't even make it to the end of the block before Fido there was all over me. I barely got away with my life! I knew I should have ridden my scooter this morning..." he mumbled.

"Weird," Kim admitted, peering down at an angle through the door's window in attempt to see the dog. The canine's hind end was barely visible as it moved back and forth along the threshold, seeking entry. It showed no sign of leaving - nor of even moving away from the door, though it must have been clear that the prey had successfully found a safe haven. "He really doesn't like you for some reason."

"Yeah," Ron flinched as the dog howled mournfully outside the door, the lifted muzzle rising into visual range and showing every one of the fangs it possessed through the window. "I kind of noticed that when he jumped that fence and started chasing me." Ron still looked frazzled, but he was visibly calming as he caught his breath and the door continued to hold - securing the school (and him) against the dog's frenzy. "I don't get it, though - he likes me... or at least he used to."

"Well, at least you're safe now," Kim soothed. She squeezed his shoulder where the black of his sleeve joined with the faded white fabric of the trunk of his shirt as he slowly straightened.

Still peering fearfully at the door that was all that protected him from the maddened canine, Ron didn't appear reassured by her attempt at comforting. "Yeah," he muttered under his breath.

Kim smiled as she let her hand fall away from his shoulder. She was still so thrilled by the fact of her Mad Dog's survival that not even a real mad dog could dampen her good mood this morning.

The shepherd abruptly leaped up onto the door again, claws scrabbling against the glass as the powerful jaws snapped inches away from Ron's face. Ron yelped and fell back a few steps, retreating from the door and the crazed canine lurking beyond the doorway.

"Come on," Kim instructed, as she took Ron by the hand and drew him further away from the door. "We can get Wade to call animal control when we hit the lockers."

"Sure thing, K.P." Ron agreed, reluctant to turn his gaze away from the smear of slobber that now defaced the glass. The sounds the dog's nails continued to make while it was clawing at the door trying to get in weren't very reassuring either. "I'm right behind you."

Ron let her pull him backwards for a few steps, then finally turned and walked beside her as the animal noises faded behind them. Kim's hand released his as they passed a knot of gossiping students and he fell into step with her, easily keeping pace with her despite his moseying amble.

"So your mom woke you early, too?" Kim asked curiously as she glanced over her shoulder at her friend.

Ron sank his fingers into his hair and scratched furiously for a moment, messing his hairdo even more than it had previously been as he readjusted his mental state, trying to convince himself that he was really safe. "Yep. She said Dr. Director said I should get back to a normal schedule ASAP, and mom took her way too seriously. After what I went through with all those doctors last night, I should have at least been able to sleep in for one morning."

"Mom said pretty much the same to me," Kim nodded. She reached out, and gently touched his forearm, unconsciously reassuring herself that he was really here.

"What's with the touchy thing again?" Ron asked, stepping away from her as he looked at her with an odd expression on his face. "I thought you got over that last night."

Kim chuckled at the look on his face, struck by the fact that his expression was even weirder than the file photo the national news had used this morning while announcing his survival. "Not... entirely. You were sleeping on my lap, so it wasn't like... But really, it's no big. I just... It's good that you're here," she blushed slightly as she hesitantly tried to explain herself. After the long hours of believing him dead, she felt like the warmth of his skin, and the reassurance of flesh on flesh was the only way to really feel confident - no matter how much her logic insisted that he was safe and she was being silly - that his survival wasn't some kind of comforting dream or delusion created by her stressed mind to ease her grief. Not that she could clarify her emotions and thoughts well enough to summarize or explain them that simply to him, but in the solitude of her own mind, she knew how she felt... Sort of.

Ron shrugged, then he flinched back as Tara sighed in his direction before ducking back into a classroom, her pale cheeks infused with a delicate rose. "Did you see that?" he asked, turning to walk backwards so he could watch the door Tara had fled through.

"See what?" Kim replied.

After a beat, Ron shook his head as the doorway remained empty. "Nothing. I must have been seeing things."

Ron's eyes widened in shock after he'd walked barely a score more steps past the spot of the strange encounter. Amelia's younger sister Amber - who was not nearly as dominant in the social hierarchy despite being nearly as pretty as her now graduated sister had been - sighed deeply in his direction. She then rushed off down the hallway, clutching her schoolbooks to her chest and keeping her face averted to avoid meeting his gaze. Ron rubbed his eyes, and when he looked up, Amber was nowhere to be seen. "I'm imagining things. Gotta be."

"What?" Kim asked again, her pace slowing as she looked over her shoulder at Ron.

"I..." Ron began, then fell silent as he tried to think of how to explain the weirdness. "Nah, it's no big," Ron finally mumbled, grinning nervously.

"Hmm..." Kim frowned slightly, but let it pass. She started walking again and Ron hurried to catch up. "Did you happen to catch the news this morning?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Nope," Ron denied, sauntering along in her wake. "Mom rushed me too much. Why?"

Kim's lips creased into a teasing smile. "No big. They just happened to mention you, that's all."

"Cool," Ron grinned, then his smile faded as a thought struck him. "Did they get my name right?"

Shrugging, Kim had to concede, "Well, one of the networks did. Once. But then they corrected themselves with a different name. But it's the thought that counts," she pointed out, smiling reassuringly.

Ron shrugged in return as Kim opened her locker. He leaned against the nearby bank of lockers as he replied, "I guess. It's not that difficult a name. Ron. Ron Stoppable. I don't know why nobody ever seems to get it right. Well, except for Señor Senior, Senior. He may be a villain, but he definitely has class."

Kim's smile was a testament of her agreement with him, but she continued in her original vein, not letting Ron divert her from her original intent. "Well, all of the networks did get the part about you being a hero right," she pointed out, "even if the name wasn't spot on. Partner."

Ron blinked. "I didn't do anything you don't do... did... have done... daily did... didn't not do... didn't done..." he stammered, trying to untangle both his thought and the knot in his tongue.

He might have continued twisting and contorting his words, but a blonde cheerleader - Jennifer - chose that moment to walk up to the loitering duo. "Hi, Kim," she paused to smile cheerily, then walked away.

The incident might have been mistaken for a simple greeting to the captain of the squad, but for one thing. As she left, Jennifer let her fingers trail lightly across Ron's forearm where it peeked from beneath the cover of his sleeve. "Ron..." she drawled, letting her touch linger on his arm as his name lingered on her lips.

His eyes widening, Ron fell silent as he watched the blonde saunter away, her hips swaying hypnotically. "Tell me I didn't just imagine that?" he asked intently. His gaze was attracted to the swishing motion of her skirt like iron filings to a lodestone.

After a moment's enraptured study, Ron turned away, and despite his general immunity to embarrassment, his cheeks held a hint of pink as he looked at the ceiling, at the bank of lockers, at Kim... Pretty much everywhere except after the retreating cheerleader, really.

"You didn't imagine that," Kim agreed quietly, watching Jennifer's retreating form with a bit of a frown. After she passed from sight, Kim turned back to her locker and finished selecting her books for the morning classes.

"But... but..." Ron stammered.

"Maybe she's just now seeing in you something I've seen all along," Kim informed him with a small grin.

Ron's brow furrowed as he tried to unravel the meaning of her words. Finally deciding it was too complicated for this early in the morning, he let it pass from his thoughts.

He watched Kim as she dug through her bag before pulling out a folder that looked vaguely familiar. "So what's that?" he asked.

Kim's grin held more than a hint of teasing. "Not much. Just an addition to my 'Most Wanted' collection," she answered.

As Ron watched, Kim opened the folder and withdrew a white, rectangular ("Paper? Picture? Card?" he wondered) something before closing the folder and stowing it behind the darkened monitor of the computer Wade had installed in her locker. "Collection?" he asked. Dropping his voice so he couldn't be overheard, he whispered, "Is it the new CuddleBuddy catalog from Dy?"

Unable to suppress a giggle, Kim didn't answer as she tore off four strips of tape from a dispenser located in the bottom of her locker, arranging them in a fluttering row along the lower edge of the open door in preparation for their impending use. "Don't be silly," she admonished with a teasing grin.

She held the rectangular thing against the inside of her locker door, her hand shielding it from sight so that it remained unidentifiable. With her free hand, Kim used the tape strips she'd readied to secure it to the inside of the door.

"So... If it's not that, what is it?" Ron wondered aloud, waiting for Kim to reveal the new addition to her locker décor.

Kim pulled her hand away from the rectangle, and Ron suddenly found himself staring into his own eyes - his dazed, unfocused, glassy eyes. "Wha...?" he stammered. Ron's booking photo - an 8 by 10 color glossy photo of him in all his incoherent glory from Florida - now shared pride of place on Kim's locker door right next to Shego's, mounted directly below Doctor Drakken's.

"Aw, Kim," Ron protested, glancing around to make sure no one else could see the new decoration.

"I think it looks good," Kim chuckled. "Now I'll always remember Ron's Big Day Take 2. I couldn't save the world without you, hero - and I don't want you to ever forget that, either."

Ron blanched. "Don't even joke about that, K.P. Ix-nay on the on-Ray's ig-bay ay-day... ay... ing... thay..." Ron blinked as he tried to convert the next word into pig Latin, but then changed his mind when the syllables sounded incoherent even to him. "Thing," he finished instead. "My street cred took a serious nose dive after that film festival."

"What street cred?" Kim wondered briefly, then shook off the moment of distraction. "Never mind. Now come along. We don't want to be late for class," she grinned as she swung the locker closed and headed down the hall.

"Aww," Ron whined, but obediently followed along behind her. "Are we forgetting something?" he wondered aloud as he walked, but quickly abandoned the idle thought.

xxxXXXxxx

Ron plopped down onto his unpadded chair and sighed as he pulled his history book out of the shadowed depths of his backpack. "This is turning out to be a majorly freaky day," he announced to the world in general.

He didn't anticipate a response, so when he actually received one it tossed his equilibrium straight out of the window. "Why?"

Startled, Ron jumped in his chair, thumping his knees against the underside of his desk. "Ouch," he complained, then turned to face the source of the response that had taken him completely by surprise. "Zita?" he asked, his eyes widening.

"Hi, Rron," Zita Flores grinned as she gave his name a Spanish trill.

For some reason, a muscle beneath his left eye began to twitch at her pronunciation of his name. "What are you doing sitting way back here? Don't you sit behind Jim?" he asked, gesturing vaguely in the appropriate direction.

He found something about the smile she wore on her face to be deeply disturbing. Even though they'd sort of remained friends after their ill-omened dating days, Ron felt the day was already shaping up to be more than weird enough without voluntarily adding to it. "No need to dive into those waters again."

"I thought I'd sit behind you today," she answered with a smile. "You don't mind, do you Rron?" she asked, as her grin broadened and her eyes gleamed.

"You'd never guess she plays a she-warrior," Ron thought silently. "Oh, no, not at all," Ron nervously held up his hands in a posture of surrender as he slowly turned in his seat back towards the front of the class. "Today's not just freaky - it's way diffreaky," Ron amended his earlier comment silently.

Kim slid into her usual seat beside Ron and beamed cheerfully at him for a moment before pulling out her school books. Unconsciously, she reached over and patted his arm before arranging her papers on her desk.

Ron twitched as Zita leaned forward in her seat and whispered in his ear, "I heard about what you did on the news this morning, Rron. I'm so very proud of you." Her breath caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up as it washed over his skin. "It was an action worthy of the Tunnel Lord himself."

Ron shuddered, but instead of calming down, the situation quickly grew even more bizarre. When Mrs. Barkin - no relation - came into the classroom, she beamed proudly at Ron. She even patted his shoulder before returning to the front of the class to start the day's lecture.

Ron hadn't done the homework, but Mrs. Barkin waved off his feeble attempts to excuse himself when she asked the class to hand their assignments in - despite the frequent lectures about his "irresponsibility" that she'd given him in the past for that very behavior. "What's up with her?" he wondered. "Has the world gone insane when I wasn't looking?"

Between the teacher's weirdly forgiving mood, Kim's infrequent but recurring touches to his arm (invariably accompanied by a proud smile), and Zita's just as recurring whispers in his ear (her lips brushing against his skin in what was almost a kiss), Ron was thoroughly frazzled by the time the bell rang. He visibly twitched at each weird happening, and his eyes grew progressively wider and wilder.

As soon as the class ended, Ron was out of his seat like a shot and running for the door with books in hand - not sparing even the few seconds needed to stow them in his backpack before leaving. He dashed out the door and was gone in a flash before the tintinnabulation of the bells had faded.

"Ron!" Kim and Zita both protested his sudden disappearance, but Ron was already long gone, vanished into the swirling tide of students heading for the next class period.

xxxXXXxxx

"Stoppable!"

Startled, Ron jumped, and his head crashed into a lightbulb dangling from the bare cement ceiling of the service corridor, causing it to explode with a fizzling pop and sending the cord it had been suspended from swinging back and forth. "Gah, Mr. B!" Ron yelped, frantically brushing fragments of heated glass out of his hair as he landed poorly and stumbled backwards - away from both the crazily swinging fixture and Mr. Barkin.

A tiny chorus of tinkling crunching arose as the debris fell to the floor, and Ron danced awkwardly as he tried both to keep the shattered fragments of bulb out of his eyes, and to keep from stepping on the fallen pieces. He stepped awkwardly back a few more paces, out of the debris field and away from the fluttering cord that showed no signs of stopping its wild and random reverberations.

Steve Barkin scowled as he stepped forward, his boots crushing the debris uncaringly underfoot with a muffled crunch. He rested his fists on his hips and leaned menacingly forward, bringing his face close to his most problematic student's. "This is a restricted area, Stoppable. And you've not only violated this space, you've both willfully damaged school property and compromised the lighting."

"It was just a light bulb," Ron protested, shrinking back from the looming administrator. "And you startled me."

"Are you questioning my authority, Stoppable?" Mr. Barkin asked, his voice suspiciously calm and even.

"Oh, no, Mr. Barkin," Ron lifted his hands and shook his head furiously, leaning away from the air of menace that surrounded the older man. "I would never even think of doing that."

"How did you get in here, anyway?" Mr. Barkin demanded. "The doors lock automatically, and only the faculty have keys." He eyed Ron suspiciously, but received no answer.

Ron chuckled nervously and tried not to look towards the dust stains on his pants that he'd acquired while infiltrating the ventilation system. "Um..." he stammered, trying to think of an answer that wouldn't inflame Barkin's ire any further.

Mr. Barkin sniffed exaggeratedly, then noted, "I don't smell smoke. It's a filthy habit, but if you're willing to eat at Bueno Nacho, I wouldn't put any pollution of your body past you."

"Mr. B, I can't believe you'd think so poorly of me," Ron protested. "I wouldn't do something like that."

"Then why are you in here?" Mr. Barkin asked smoothly, a smile creasing his lips as Ron fell into his trap.

"I just... had to get away from everyone," Ron winced as Mr. Barkin leaned still closer - close enough for Ron to see the pores in his skin, and for his eyes to cross as they tried to meet his burning gaze.

"Get away, Stoppable?" he demanded, his voice growing louder with every syllable. "From what? Why?"

"..." Ron mumbled, far too quietly to be heard as he shrank back.

"Speak up, man!" Mr. Barkin barked.

"... looking at me funny..." Ron mumbled a little louder.

"I won't ask you again," Mr. Barkin warned. "Answer me!" he insisted.

"Girls are looking at me funny!" Ron shouted. "And it's freaking me out!"

Mr. Barkin blinked in surprise. "You're the last one who should be casting aspersions at people for giving funny looks, Stoppable," he pointed out, and his tone was almost mild. It rapidly regained its heat as he added, "And what's the sudden problem with girls, Stoppable? I know for a fact you watched the district mandated filmstrips, and after your last collision with district policy, I'd have thought..."

"You don't understand, Mr. B," Ron moaned, cutting off Barkin's commentary. "You just don't get it. For the love of Cheese, man," Ron wailed, "Bonnie Rockwaller smiled at me. She smiled. At me!"

Raising an eyebrow, Mr. Barkin gauged Ron's paranoia and confusion. "I watch the news, Stoppable. Did you or did you not save Possible's life on your last mission, at what was most likely to be the expense of your own?" he asked mildly.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Ron asked, confused by the seeming non sequitur.

Shaking his head in dismay, Mr. Barkin straightened his back as he bemoaned, "Stoppable, for as long as I've known you - and even as far back as your permanent record goes - there's been one consistent comment from every faculty member and administrator you've had dealings with. Do you know what it is?"

"'Prone to sleeping in class' ?" Ron scratched his head, dislodging a small splinter of glass from against his scalp.

"Nice try. But that one's a distant second to: 'Fails to live up to his potential,'" Mr. Barkin explained evenly.

"Oh. Yeah. Potential Boy; that's me," Ron admitted. "I've heard that one before."

"And yet, here we are," Mr. Barkin pointed out. "You see, Stoppable, it's moments like this, those rare moments when you reveal how you could be, that are one of the few times that people actually reassess how you are - or how they perceive you," he explained.

Ron frowned in obvious confusion. "I don't get it," Ron confessed.

Mr. Barkin sighed heavily. "It's almost time for the bell to ring. If you weren't going to be late for class, I'd try to make it sink through that thick skull of yours. But believe me, you'll have plenty of time in detention to think about it later."

"But I don't have..." Ron trailed off. "Detention?" he whimpered.

"Oh yes," Mr. Barkin smiled slowly. "Detention, extra homework... And that's just the beginning."

"C'mon, Mr. B," Ron pleaded. "Have a heart."

"Violation of a restricted area, flagrant desecration of school district property," his hand swept horizontally, indicating the debris field as he continued, "...littering, vandalism..." he trailed off as his smile grew almost beatific. "Need I continue?"

"No," Ron hung his head.

"Good. I'll see you in room 12 after school," Mr. Barkin noted with satisfaction. "And I'll have hours to think of a suitable punishment for your... infractions. Now get to class!" he barked.

Ron fled down the service tunnel, dodging conduits and cabling as he fled the administrator's wrath. Oddly, he felt reassured by the encounter. "In a world gone mad, you can rely on Mr. Barkin to be a constant."

"I'll deal with him later. I have to see if there's any truth about those reports of a mad dog prowling around outside," Mr. Barkin reminded himself as he eyed Ron's wild retreat balefully.

xxXXxx

A few hours later, Ron stared down at the contents of his lunch tray, despondently stirring the glop in the main compartment. "Why me?" he wondered silently as Penny - she of the beauteous eyes - smiled at him as she walked past. After four hours of the weirdness, he was almost desensitized to it - but only almost.

"It's the man of the hour."

Looking up from his uneaten - if not untouched - lunch, Ron grinned weakly at Felix as he rolled up to the end of the table. "Yo-ha, bro-ha."

Felix grinned as Kim and Monique joined Ron at the table. "Nice job, Ron," he added as they sat down. "I heard all about it on the news this morning."

"I don't know why everyone's making such a big deal out of this," Ron muttered under his breath.

Kim absent-mindedly patted Ron's forearm before opening her milk carton. "My hero," she praised, and while her voice was leavened with irony and good humor, there was also the simple acknowledgement of truth in her words.

Ron's answering grin was feeble, but heartfelt. "No big, K.P."

Monique beamed at Ron. "You did good, kid," she added her praise before starting to peel an orange.

Ron twitched as a girl he didn't even know waved at him from across the cafeteria. "I..." he began, but broke off as the Kimmunicator caroled from Kim's pocket.

Kim pulled out the beeping device, and hit a button. "What's the sitch, Wade?" she asked.

"No sitch," Wade admitted with a yawn as he appeared on the viewscreen. "Just checking in. I just woke up and wanted to see how you guys were doing after everything that happened yesterday."

"Other than some ferocious jet lag? I'm not doing too bad," Kim admitted. Looking over the top of the device, she asked, "How about you, Ron?"

Ron slumped in his seat as the captain of the girls' basketball team - an amazonian brunette that was nearly as tall as Big Mike - ruffled his hair as she walked by. "Hi, Ron," she giggled before retreating with her friends.

"I'm a little freaked out," he admitted, his head falling to rest on the table beside his lunch tray. "Girls are looking at me funny, Kim won't stop touching me..."

Kim chuckled embarrassedly as she awkwardly drew her hand away from Ron before her fingers could reach him. "It's really no big," she muttered to herself.

"... then there was that weird stuff about my 'potential' Mr. B was talking about..." The twitch beneath his eye was back in force as he cried out to the heavens, "Why me?"

"I don't know about the Kim touching you thing," Monique answered calmly, "but the rest is easy enough to understand."

"Oh?" Wade's comment was echoed by everyone else at the table - aside from Kim, who was too distracted by all the talk about "touching" to really follow the thread of the conversation.

"Sure," Monique slowly chewed a wedge of her orange, then smiled angelically as she swallowed. "Ron? You're Dusty," she explained elliptically before popping another piece of her orange into her mouth.

"I'm... dusty?" Ron wondered aloud, glancing down at the streaks of dirt on his pants. "But all this started before I ever crawled into the vents." Regardless, he took a napkin and scrubbed desultorily at his cheeks in an attempt to remove some of the grime.

As the others at the table looked back and forth, trying to see if anyone had been enlightened by her comment, Monique simply continued to eat her lunch. She was obviously enjoying the confusion sown by her explanation.

"Dirty? Often. Dishevelled? Absolutely. Dramatic? Probably," Kim slowly announced, staring at Ron's confused face. "Dusty? Frankly I don't see how that explains anything," she asked, her eyes taking in the odd smears and streaks that covered Ron despite his attempted clean up, "even if it is true."

Monique shook her head. "Kim, Kim, Kim. You should know better. You and everybody else are just confusing poor Ron with your subtlety. It's wasted on the brave lad. Forget psychology. Forget sociology. Forget the smiles, touches, and everything else and just talk to the boy in a language he understands. He's Dusty," Monique confirmed, gesturing with a thumb towards the befuddled Ron. "I have an older brother. Trust me, I speak Gamer."

Kim remained confused, but a sudden gasp from the Kimmunicator drew her attention. "Gamer? Wha...? Wait, what is it, Wade?"

"Dusty..." Wade breathed, as though he had been granted the gift of divine enlightenment.

From the end of the table, Felix smacked the butt of his palm against his forehead. "Of course, Dusty..."

Kim remained unenlightened, but Ron suddenly sat up straight as though he'd been struck by lightning, his forgotten napkin abruptly falling from suddenly nerveless fingers. "Dusty... I'm Dusty! How cool is that?"

"If someone doesn't tell me what this is all about..." Kim began.

Before she could finish the thought - or the threat - Wade interjected reverently, "The final cut scene. Zombie Mayhem 2."

Felix picked up the explanation, "The hero, Dusty, jumps into the vortex leading to the Dimension of the Dead at the end of the game, closing it forever. He saves Victoria - and the world - from the undead menace."

"At least until Zombie Mayhem 3," Monique clarified, "when Victoria takes over the undead killing duties in a much skimpier outfit. Still, even I have to admit it was a ferociously cool moment. My brother says it's the best part of the series, and it does redeem some of the more gratuitous parts of the game: the hero sacrificing himself to save her without hope of survival or reward in an act of utter selflessness. It even won a couple of industry awards."

Ron was twitching, rocking up and down in a moment of sheer, unadulterated gamer bliss. "Who cares if I'm freaked out?" he realized, his eyes glazing over as he pictured himself as the star of the scene as it played out before his mind's eye. "I'm Dusty..." After being struck by a thought, he snapped out of his moment of introspection. "Hey Wade, since I'm Dusty, can I get a chainsaw?"

"Sorry, Ron," Wade grinned. "I offered to make a laser chainsaw once after Rufus missed a mission and you guys couldn't get into a vent, but Kim vetoed the idea."

"What?" Ron spun and demanded, "Why?" he whined.

"Why do you think? Because you'd cut off a limb inside of a week," Kim answered, rolling her eyes. "Wade? In case you're wondering, the answer's still thanks, but no thanks."

"Aw, but I'm Dusty..." Ron grumped.

Kim chuckled, but didn't relent in her conviction. "I'll have to remember to thank Monique later," she thought. "Ron's looking a lot more normal now that he's distracted."

"Remind me later, and I'll mock one up for you for Halloween, Ron," Wade offered as a consolation prize. "You can go as a matching pair if you can convince Kim to dress as Vi..." he suddenly fell silent as he began typing on a keyboard. "We've got a hit on the website. GJ wants to know if you're up to taking down Frugal Lucre, Kim."

"Yes!" Ron cheered, one fist shooting high into the air in exultation.

"I guess so," Kim eyed Ron curiously as he continued to celebrate. "What's got you so excited?" she asked. "It's just Frugal Lucre."

"Being on a mission means I get to miss detention," Ron explained with a grin.

"Ron!" Kim demanded. "We've only been back at school for a few hours; how could you possibly have detention already?"

"Who cares?" Ron evaded. "Nothing can harsh this mellood! I'm Dusty!" he proclaimed. Abandoning his lunch, he stood, and after striking a "heroic" pose (one taken directly from the game) that sent Monique into a fit of giggles, he hurried across the lunch room.

"Uh oh," Felix muttered, dropping his face into the comforting shield of his hands. "I've got a bad feeling about this..."

"'Uh oh' what?" Kim asked.

"Ron's not actually doing the dialogue is he?" Monique asked. At Felix's weary nod, she joined him in burying her face in her hands. "That boy..." she muttered.

"Someone want to fill me in?" Kim asked, glancing between the two and the Kimmunicator, hoping to learn what was so disturbing.

"The Zombie Mayhem games were originally created and released in Japan," Wade explained, interlacing his fingers and cracking his knuckles. "The cinematics in the US releases are new, but the rest of the game is just a translation of the original."

"A bad translation," Monique clarified.

"How bad could it be?" Kim wondered aloud.

"'All your base are belong to us' bad," Felix added. "And some of the lines..." he winced as across the lunch room, Penny rose from her seat and slapped Ron, the retort audible even over the buzz of conversation in the cafeteria.

"He didn't use the 'King' line did he?" Monique asked rhetorically, wincing at Felix's affirmative shrug. "That boy needs a full time minder," Monique commented sadly.

"He's got one," Wade asserted. Kim started to smile, but it shifted to a frown as he added, "But Rufus must have slept in today. Anyway, your ride will be out front in about a half hour, Kim. Let 'Dusty' know, ok?"

"Will do, Wade." Kim thanked him and tucked away the Kimmunicator.

Undeterred by Penny's reaction to his attempt to emulate the hero of his favorite video game, Ron soon drove Jennifer, Bonnie, and a horde of others from the cafeteria. Kim winced as she watched Ron slowly walk back to the table, utterly and totally defeated on the lists of love, and bearing the pink silhouette of a hand print branded on one cheek like a scarlet letter. "Let's go, hero," she ordered, but with a soothing (she hoped) tone to her voice.

"I just don't understand girls," Ron bemoaned aloud as Kim dragged his unresisting form away from the site of his inglorious defeat.

"No kidding," Kim rolled her eyes. "Good thing Zita's not here; she'd probably enjoy Ron's act."

xxXXxx

Kim looked out the window of the small private jet and gazed upon the constellations of streetlights gleaming across the landscape far below. As the plane entered a cloudbank, hiding the scenery from view, she leaned back in her seat and tried to relax. "Long day," she noted to herself.

The plane - the personal conveyance of the CEO of Def Teen Records - was luxurious; the seats were plush, and the cabin air was climate conditioned so as to be perfect. Despite the comfort of the travel, Kim still couldn't seem to relax. "I don't know what's wrong with me lately."

She clicked a button on a small remote control unit, and a plasma TV mounted on the bulkhead at the front of the cabin hummed into life. Block green letters appeared across the bottom of the blank, black screen, proclaiming, "Scanning." After a moment's delay, a man in a red shirt and a white hat appeared on the television as the system locked onto a broadcast coming from the city below. "Skipper!" he cried out.

Wincing, Kim hit another button. "...my men were ordered to surrender." "War movie. So not in the mood tonight." CLICK

"...there is no spoon..." CLICK

"Keep watching the skies!" CLICK

"We'll be right back with 'More Stuff on Fire' after these..." CLICK

"...indecent exposure, lewd conduct, and suspicion of public intoxication." Kim flinched as she watched the late night talk show host's monologue, then winced as Ron's mug shot was unveiled on the national broadcast. "I have to remember to take that picture down," she promised herself. "I'm his friend. It's okay for me to tease Ron about that, but not if... Well, at least they got his name wrong again." She didn't find the thought especially comforting.

Sighing, she turned off the TV, and leaned back in the seat. Closing her eyes, she resumed her struggle to relax.

A series of beeps emanating from inside her pants broke her attempt at concentrating on nothing. Kim drew the Kimmunicator from her pocket and activated the screen with her thumb. "Hi, Wade."

"Hi, Kim. I just got a call from GJ. Want me to put it through?"

Kim briefly considered refusing the call, but what Ron referred to as her innate Kim-ness prevented the idle thought from really taking root. "Go ahead," she smiled an apology for her foul mood.

Wade flashed a thumbs up as he vanished from the screen.

"Greetings, Kimberly Possible."

"Hi, Doctor Director. Where's the mission?" Kim asked.

Dr. Director smiled. "Nowhere, to the best of my knowledge. This is a social call. More or less."

Kim blinked, unsure how to handle that information. "Does she ever just call?" "O...kay," she replied uncertainly.

"I wanted to extend my apologies for calling upon your services so soon after the recent," she paused delicately, "difficulties. But as you might expect, GJ's resources have been rather thoroughly tied up with WEE, and rather than jeopardize that operation, calling you in to handle the unrelated threat seemed to be the optimum solution. I appreciate your willingness to assist in this matter."

"It was no big," Kim shrugged off the praise.

Dr. Director's eye glinted as she asked, seemingly off- handedly, "And... Ronald?"

"Of course," Kim's lip quirked up in a half smile. "She's checking up on Ron again. That explains everything." Oddly, with the ulterior motive revealed, Kim felt much more at ease with the call. "He did just fine. He kept Mrs. Luhrman busy by exchanging dessert recipes while I disabled Lucre's internet connection. Result? One evil plot foiled, and one low budget supervillain in custody. Ron smells like beef bouillon, but at least he didn't lose his pants. He's asleep back by the galley; I could wake him up if you wanted to talk to him?"

"No, let him sleep," Dr. Director smiled, and it appeared to be a much more natural and genuine expression than her previous attempt. "Just convey my appreciation of his efforts once he awakens."

Kim nodded, and after a moment's thought, she asked, "So how is the crackdown on WEE going?"

"At this point... slowly," Dr. Director admitted. "We're running into some obstacles tracing the previous activity on the accounts we've frozen. I've been in negotiations for most of the day with a number of officials in regards to the unlocking of the banking records, but they've been dragging their feet - understandably, but regrettably.

"We do know Sheldon has to have at least one more account we haven't located since none of his activities in Bermuda have been drawn against the frozen accounts. Still, we're doing what we can with the information we have. Frankly, keeping Sheldon ignorant of our tightening dragnet as we dismantle his empire by leaving him alone and unobstructed is very much the lesser evil at this point."

Kim nodded her agreement. "I hope Gemini returns from his vacation to find himself all alone and utterly bankrupt. He deserves far worse for what he did to Ron," she thought, but limited her response to a simple, "Yeah."

"Well," Dr. Director continued when the silence had stretched uncomfortably, "As I said, this was largely a social call. I'll let you get some rest. Thank you again, Kim Possible." Her image vanished from the Kimmunicator's screen as it powered down, and Kim was left alone with her thoughts once more.

"What a day... Ron gained a flock of female admirers for his selfless act, then promptly alienated them. We caught the bad guy, but Ron got squirted by a Smarty Mart reject. Seems like everything's pretty much back to normal," Kim smiled to herself, comforted at the thought, then suddenly shuddered as a chill ran up her spine.

"What on Earth was that?" she wondered with a shiver, still more than slightly freaked by the odd feeling that had utterly extinguished the brief moment of comfort she'd felt. "It felt like someone just walked across my grave..."

xxxXXXxxx
To be continued...