Summary: Continuation of "Bad Girl" - Kim's evil, and Ron's still her sidekick.
Warning: There's some partial nudity and reference to some not-nice behavior in this - Kim is evil, after all - but nothing really nasty happens on camera.
A scene is potentially disturbing, but doesn't meet the criteria for "M" - in my opinion. If folks think it's necessary, I'll move this into its own story frame to up the rating, but remember - things still aren't necessarily as they seem.
Ron Stoppable paused on the catwalk overlooking the sunken workshop and let his eyes roam. The subterranean workroom was bustling with subdued activity; a few men were welding near one wall, sending a shower of sparks cascading across the stony floor, a few more were eating lunch, their tools lying scattered around them on the crates they were using as an improvised table, and in the center of the room, beneath the bulk of a massive hand-tooled engine block, a short man with a greasy pompadour was making adjustments to the machined connections to the component with a grimy wrench.
As he descended a skeletal steel stairway, Ron's eyes passed over the activity without interest. But upon reaching the bottom of the steps, Ron found what he had been seeking. Crouched atop the rusted, disembodied leg of a Drakken-constructed and Kim- salvaged Destructo Bot, a muscular blonde man in a blue T-shirt eyed the engine block through the frame of his outstretched hands, visualizing it in its eventual completed state.
"Ed," Ron noted.
"Yo, skinny dude!" the villain known as Motor Ed grinned cheerily. Hopping down from his perch, Ed fluffed out the back of his mullet, freeing its length from the black metal collar locked around his neck. "How's it hanging, bro? Seriously?"
Ignoring the greeting, Ron simply asked, "Status?"
"Dude, tell Red this motor will be totally righteous. I dunno where you got the power plant..."
"Münich," Ron interjected without changing his expression.
"... but this thing will rock, and rock hard when it's done!" Overcome by his emotions, Ed broke into a spontaneous display of air guitar virtuosity, playing a wild Skynyrd riff as he thrashed his head up and down, waving his hair wildly until it floated around his head like a bleached halo.
Ron waited patiently until the performance was complete and Ed was back on his feet, carefully combing his disordered locks back into place. "Any requests or problems?"
"Nah," Ed grinned, rubbing his hands together until his biceps bulged, flushing the skin around his tattoo. "Chops was right on with what he told Red we'd need when she 'hired' us. Aside from that, we've got good brew, righteous toys to play with, tasty grub... I should have gone to work for Red years ago. Seriously. It's a sweet gig, better than the government labs - except for, you know, the whole collar thing."
Although he nodded, Ron's expression was unrevealing. "I'll convey your... satisfaction."
"Sure," Ed shrugged, grinning over at some of his boys who'd turned to watch their quiet conversation, before adding, "plus she doesn't mess with the mullet so it's all good. Have her come on down. We'd love to show her..." he trailed off as Ron's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Whoa, dude," Ed backed off both physically and verbally, his jovial attitude cooling as he stepped back, shaking his hands calmingly. It would almost have been comical - given the sheer difference in size between the two - if Ed wasn't so clearly frightened.
"Didn't mean nothing by it," Ed insisted. "Dude, Red's blue - like Drew. It'd be like kissing my cousin. It's not happening. Seriously."
Ron slowly nodded, and Ed exhaled as the moment of tension eased. "Plus, bro, I love a chick who can scrap, but seriously... These days, she plays a little rough for my tastes." He gestured to the brand on Ron's shoulder as proof. "Me and the boys just wanted to show off for the boss a little."
"I understand," Ron relaxed slightly further.
Ed eyed the teen, and despite the circumstances, his eyes filled with a hint of concern. "Dude, you've always been skinny, but man... you need to eat. C'mon, the boys have some hoagies - we'll eat, toss back some brews..."
"Thank you for the offer," Ron responded emotionlessly, "but I'm not hungry."
Shrugging, Ed dared to reach out and ruffle Ron's hair. "No problem, man. And keep growing it out; you've got the makings of a righteous mullet here."
Ron's lip twisted in what might have been the prelude to a smile, but he remained silent, and after a moment, his expression smoothed out once more. He eventually simply nodded in both acknowledgment and farewell, and without further words, retreated back up the stairs.
"Everything okay, boss?" Ed's diminutive sidekick asked as he crawled from beneath the engine block.
"Yeah, sure, Chops, " Ed answered, his eyes lingering on Ron's retreating back. "I guess Red's riding him hard."
"I'll just bet she is..." Chops' chuckle was faintly lecherous until Ed cuffed him powerfully on the shoulder. "Ow," the sidekick whined, rubbing his sore arm. "What'd you go and do that for?"
"Keep your big yap shut. Dude, do you want to make Red mad?" Ed pointed out.
The sidekick blanched beneath his pompadour. He awkwardly ran his gloved finger along the inside edge of the metal collar he wore around his neck. "No."
"Then play nice, bro. Let him keep Red happy. We do our jobs, we get these collars off - and we get gone. Way gone," he shuddered.
"Yeah," the sidekick muttered in agreement. "Better him than me," he fervently added.
Ron ignored the parting conversation the acoustics in the workshop brought to his ears as he sealed the door behind him. "I can't really blame them for thinking that," he silently reminded himself as he began walking down the corridor. "It's not like I've explained anything that's happened to them."
He paused as an indicator on the wall began to glow amber. After a moment, heralded by a wavefront of air pushed in front of it, a mag-lev train loaded with raw ore rocketed across the passage in front of him. Fresh from the mine levels located far below even the deeply subterranean level Ron was currently walking through, the carts still retained a hint of the smell of brimstone and a bit of the infernal heat of the depths it had been wrested from.
After the train had passed, and the indicator glowed green to indicate the path was clear, Ron resumed his walk, stepping over the smoothly polished track inset into the floor to continue on his way. After descending two levels and traversing several corridors, Ron paused again as a doorway opened in the wall ahead.
Two man-sized automatons strode forth from the assembly line and into the corridor. Although created using technology appropriated from one of Dr. Drakken's former lairs, Kim's version of the robots were controlled by the limited AI Dr. Freeman had "voluntarily" adapted for the mad scientist, and that she had then modified in turn. They were smart enough to be useful, but not self-aware enough to revolt like the Bebes - nor to potentially refuse their orders, like SADI might.
The robots walked into the corridor, their knees flexing the opposite direction from a human's - "Like Aviarius' Flamingo of Doom," Ron couldn't help but think - and paused as they scanned the intruder. A glowing red slit inset into the armor like a visor pulsed as the sensors identified Ron. They hastily saluted their creator's sidekick in unison, raising the energy weapon mounted where a human's right arm would be to the pod that served them as both head and body.
When Ron didn't issue new orders, simply standing idle and mute while returning their level gaze, they followed their original programming. They marched past him in single file, the newly constructed machines heading for their first posting as perimeter guards for Kim's ever-expanding fortress complex.
Ron watched the pair of robots retreat until they vanished around a curve in the passage. "I haven't seen that model before," he thought as he continued on. "She must have a dozen different varieties of them by now."
Unlike people, robots could be trusted - once the appropriate safeguards had been installed, anyway - and they were far easier to control. Consequently, machines formed the vast majority of Kim's ever expanding army and workforce, and the depths of her lair were always humming with activity as robots went forth to collect raw materials, shaped new sections, installed Kim's newly constructed equipment, or simply patrolled, watching for intruders.
Only a few actual humans were in Kim's "employ," and they had all been fitted with the control collars - devices capable of inducing excruciating pain via direct nerve stimulation, or death by a number of unpleasant methods. Although only Kim could know for sure, Ron was reasonably confident that he was the only human in the lair - now grown far larger than the relatively modest sized one of Professor Dementor's that had been its beginnings - without a control collar. "But it's not like she doesn't already have control of me."
While lost in his ruminations, Ron's feet had carried him to his destination. He nodded to the robotic turret beside the doorway, and at the gesture, the door retracted with a solid "whoosh."
Stepping through and into the room beyond, he halted well out of reach of the cage that filled most of the interior - even the reach of the inhumanly proportioned mutant within. "Monty," Ron greeted him, his expression unreadable.
"Ron Stoppable," Monkey Fist drawled as he lowered himself from the light fixture in his cage and dropped to the floor. "My old... friend. What brings you here to my... new estate?" he wondered aloud. "Come to gloat?"
"Kim Possible requested that I convey her thanks," Ron replied, his expression carefully blank.
"Oh, really?" Monkey fist scowled. "For what, pray tell?"
"For the skill and training that you imparted to the monkey ninjas," Ron answered. "She tells me they are proving to be... most useful in her current plan."
His composure cracking, the mutated English lord momentarily looked as though he was going to lunge for the bars. He visibly strained as he forced himself to regain his equilibrium. "How... delightful. You've become a most... faithful servant. Tell me, how do you find your position as Miss Possible's lapdog?"
Seemingly unmoved by the biting sarcasm, Ron ignored the taunts. "In her mercy, and in recognition of your skills, she has decided to offer you the opportunity to continue training my monkey ninjas..."
"My monkey ninjas!" Fiske barked. "They are mine!" he insisted. "I found them, I trained them, and they are loyal to me!"
Ron continued speaking as though the captive hadn't spoken, "... to better serve her needs since my own duties preclude a high level of personal involvement in their training." Elliptically, he added, "Following your defeat, your former servants abandoned your cause. They serve Kim now."
"Defeat?" Monkey Fist snarled, baring his artificially elongated fangs in unbridled rage. "You rang serenity chimes, then shot me with a tranquilizer gun when I sought to meditate!"
"The essence of the ninja is deception," Ron noted, and there was an echo of an older, calmer voice in his words, "and mastery of Tai Shing Pek Kwar is half mental. To one who is out of harmony, defeat is inevitable."
"Mastery? You?" Monkey Fist sneered.
Ron's pointed glance over his shoulder towards the door - that he was free to use, but Monkey Fist was not - was greeted with a snort of disgust from the caged master of the martial forms of Tai Shing Pek Kwar. "Fine. I'll continue to train the monkey ninjas." Glancing around his cell, he made an elaborate show of his vast boredom and ennui as he added, "Anything is better than rotting in this... cage."
Despite the naked calculation in Monkey Fist's expression, and the blatant deceit in his eyes, Ron simply nodded. "I will convey your acceptance of Kim's offer. Be dutiful, and you will prosper; be disobedient, and you will suffer."
Ron turned to leave, but was brought up short as the caged Fiske called out to him, "Stoppable! This too shall pass," he stroked his collar, grimacing in distaste, then added, "You know that I will be the Ultimate Monkey Master. It is my destiny."
"Destiny," Ron commented, carefully not looking over his shoulder, "is a cruel taskmaster, and fate has a sick sense of humor. Tempt them at your peril."
A snort of laughter came from the cage, and just for a moment, Monkey Fist felt a faint feeling of solidarity with his nemesis. "You have no idea," he chuckled. "How well I know..." he snickered, the volume of his outburst of mirth slowly growing until he was erupting with peals of barking simian laughter.
As Ron left the room, the door sealed behind him, cutting off the crazed English lord's mirthful mocking. He briefly shuddered, alone in the corridor, then wrapped himself once more in his cloak of emotionlessness.
"Chippy," Ron abruptly said aloud.
From behind the robotic turret guarding the entrance to Monkey Fist's prison, the small form of a black-clad monkey ninja melted from the shadows. The masked simian knelt respectfully before the true destined Monkey Master and lowered her head, waiting to receive his orders.
"None of that," Ron gently chided, "Remember? You serve Kim. 'The Kim Squad.'"
Chippy simply shrugged, remaining in the respectful posture.
"Whatever," Ron rolled his eyes, momentarily breaching his facade of indifference. "Monkey Fist is treacherous and dangerous, but Kim seeks to use him anyway. Watch him carefully. Please. For me, since I can't always be there."
At Chippy's nod, Ron reached into a pocket and pulled out a small remote, similar in size and function to a car's unlocking keychain. "This is tuned to his collar alone, and the safety switch at the bottom will prevent accidents. If Monkey Fist attempts to plot against Kim or seeks to escape, use the left button as a reminder of his... motivation. However, if he ever seeks to attack or harm Kim directly, use the right button."
The monkey ninja looked down at the remote, examining the buttons and the safety switch. After her examination, she nodded in understanding and carefully tucked it away inside her gi.
A brief hiss of static came from the robotic turret before Kim's voice spoke through the intermediary. "Intruder alert - sections 37 Alpha and 42 Gamma. Ron, proceed to section 42 gamma and deal with our... guest."
"Acknowledged," Ron said. Turning back to Chippy, Ron ordered, "Get the others. Protect Kim."
Ron watched Chippy scamper obediently off to follow his orders, then began to run towards section 42 Gamma - a section just beyond Professor Dementor's former lair, but still well outside the lair's true inner perimeter. "It's begun."
Agent Will Du, one of the top agents for Global Justice, scowled ferociously at the sealed hatch that bedeviled him, so close, and yet much too far away, as a computer analysis of the distance and angles involved appeared on the lenses of his sunglasses as though to mock his inability to reach the portal. He turned his eyes upwards, turning his scowl on the ventilation duct that had fallen away so ignominiously beneath him, dumping him into his current... situation before the trapped floor swung shut once more, sealing him in this tiny room.
"Dr. Director will be most displeased," he noted silently. He attempted to be dispassionate about the matter, but found the thought too terrifying to do it very effectively. "A broken leg," he thought with disgust. He tried to think of a word adequate to summarize his feelings about the situation but drew a blank. "Ignoble comes close. Or Ignominious. Or..." his thoughts trailed off as the hatchway abruptly opened, the whoosh of its retraction loud in the confined space.
"Hi, Will."
Agent Du blinked in surprise as, despite the colossal foul up that his mission had become, his target - against all odds - presented itself. Quickly reaching into his side pocket, he pulled out a device that GJ's top scientists had spent both years of research and development time, and millions of federal dollars developing, and pressed the simple red button mounted near the bottom.
"Oh, hey... A silicon phase disrupter. Haven't seen one of those in ages - Kim's brothers made one a couple years ago. Who knew it was such a big thing to make one portable?"
Glancing back and forth between his target and the device in his hand, Will pressed the button again, but there was no visible reaction from Ron Stoppable. "The scientists said there would be a reaction - smoke from the destroyed mind control device as it overloaded, a seizure as his central nervous system is restored to control of his faculties... possibly a visible electrical discharge as the beam synchronizes with the circuitry... Why isn't it working? I put the battery in the right way, didn't I?"
"That looks painful," Ron commented, crouching by Will's side. "Broken leg... a few broken ribs... and what do they call 'em... fancy name for bruises? Soft tissue something."
"Why aren't you twitching?" Will demanded, his composure cracking as he repeatedly pushed the button on the disrupter.
Ron pulled his shirt off over his head and calmly began tearing it into strips. When he had accumulated a sufficient supply, he plucked the disrupter from Will's limp hand, then began to rifle through the injured agent's pockets and began taking away his gear.
"What are you doing?" Will demanded. Cocking his wrist at just the right angle, Agent Du aimed his Stop Watch as Ron's hand delved into his pants' pocket.
A sudden crackle caused Will to look down, and to his shock, found a throwing spike embedded in the watch face. "Wha - ?" he began, then shivered as he felt - either psychosomatically or in actuality - the voltage drain harmlessly from the incapacitating mechanism as the spike short-circuited its battery.
"That wasn't very nice, Will," Ron noted with another spike held at the ready. After a moment, when the injured agent made no more threatening moves, the elongated needle of sharpened steel seemed to vanish from his hand as Ron asked, "And what are you doing here, anyway?"
"Dr. Director sent me," Will grated from between clenched teeth as Ron resumed the invasive and unpleasant process of search and confiscation. "I'm here to rescue you."
Ron glanced over at the silicon phase disrupter he'd taken and set aside. "Right now, I'm awfully tempted to say something about you being a little short to be a rescuer."
When Will looked blank, Ron simply shook his head dismissively. "Never mind. Kim sent me here, so you're obviously the reason why."
"You still call her 'Kim,'" Will noted.
Ron shrugged and replied conversationally, "She hasn't told me what else to call her yet. I thought 'The Supreme One' had a nice ring to it, but she didn't like it for some reason." He reached for Will's sunglasses, then paused as he visibly reconsidered the move. "You can keep those. Kim's already got some - and probably more already from your friends - and none of your transmissions have gone through since you got through the outer defensive perimeter, anyway."
With Will divested of anything useful or remotely dangerous, Ron began tending his wounds. As he used the torn strips of his shirt and a pair of telescoping tonfa he'd confiscated from the agent to form a makeshift splint on his broken leg, Ron had to ask, "The vents? Seriously? Did you really think you could get in through the vents?" His disbelief was plain, even through his muted and largely unemotional demeanor.
Agent Du winced as his broken bone was expertly - but not painlessly - realigned. "It seemed... the appropriate route," he whispered, his face blanching from the pain.
Ron shook his head as he knotted the makeshift splint together tightly. "Kim and I have been infiltrating lairs for years. If you really thought she wouldn't know what to look for when building her own..."
"Look, Stoppable," Agent Du rallied his reserves and interrupted Ron's lecture. "Come with me; Dr. Director wants you safe. Global Justice can protect you."
Ron's snort was vaguely contemptuous. "GJ hasn't been very effective lately. Not to mention that Kim hasn't implanted anything in me without telling me about it - something I can't say about GJ." Ron's scratch at the back of his neck was pointed.
"Don't you want your freedom?" Will demanded.
"Freedom?" Ron's sudden bark of laughter was bitter, and utterly without humor as his eyes didn't quite meet the agent's. "Right now, thanks to Kim, I am probably the freest person in the history of the planet."
Will blinked in confusion. "I know you're young," he began tentatively, "and probably don't have much experience with such things. And I know that it probably seems..." He trailed awkwardly off, before manfully continuing, "... like the pain is worth it, thanks to your teenage hormones. But surely even you have to admit that branding and blood play isn't exactly vanilla. Do you even have a safe word?" he asked.
"Safe word?" Ron paused in his ministrations and looked curiously at the prone agent. "What's that?"
"It's something that's supposed to keep deviant sexual practices from getting out of control," Will uncomfortably explained, quoting nearly verbatim from the lecture Dr. Director had required him to attend before embarking on the mission. "That was the strangest briefing ever," he unconsciously shuddered at the memory - especially of the visual aids.
Ron snorted again. "Why does everyone seem to think Kim and I are having sex?" he asked rhetorically. "The only time we've even really kissed was when she was under the control of the Moodulator."
Will's expression twisted uncomfortably as Ron resumed bandaging his injuries. "Not important; let the higher ups think about it. Even if it's not sexual, he's still obviously suffering from a severe case of Stockholm Syndrome."
"I can't believe you guys are so off-base about things. Isn't it obvious?"
"Obviously not," Will gritted from between clenched teeth as Ron probed his broken ribs.
Ron glanced down. "Rufus could tell you. She does stuff to me for the same reason you made it so far in - not that you're even close to anything important. Kim did say I 'respond well to negative reinforcement' - whatever that means."
Will's confusion was obvious.
"Don't you get it? They're not punishments so much as loyalty tests. You wouldn't have made it any further than the others if Kim didn't want to use you as another test for me."
"She branded you with her initials as a loyalty test?" Will asked, aghast at the possibility it might be true.
Ron reached over his shoulder and stroked one of the raised scars, rubbing the curve of the "P" meditatively. "That... was meant as more of a reminder. We were stealing a shipload of bauxite and I disobeyed one of her orders."
Will slowly blinked, still not understanding the situation. "Look, just come with me. Talk to Dr. Director. I know we can get this cleared up, get you some help... get you both some help."
"It's been... what, about three years since Kim and I first fought Drakken, right?" Ron interrupted the agent's not very impassioned plea.
"What are you...?" Will began, but Ron resumed speaking before he could complete the thought.
"In those years," Ron continued, "we've caught Drakken a bunch of times. But Drakken's still blue, still evil, and all that, right?"
"So what?" Will asked.
"So it's obvious that Kim has whatever Drakken has, right? Blue skin, tendency towards lair building, a taste for robotic lackeys, sidekick she sends out to steal for her... Surely even you haven't missed the pattern, even if she's much, much smarter than Drakken ever was?"
Despite the unveiled sarcasm, Will retorted, "Again: so what?"
"So if you think I'm going to turn on her, just so that you can throw her in prison and forget about her, you're even nuttier than I thought." Ron didn't quite meet Will's eyes as he added, "Change her mind. Convince Kim to surrender, and I will, too. Otherwise, don't waste either her or my time with these half- baked infiltration schemes. I guarantee they'll fail, and next time she may not be so merciful."
"Merciful?"
Ron leaned down and helped Will to his feet after brushing dust and bits of his destroyed shirt from his hands. "Yep. I'm throwing you back. You're too small, and Kim's probably already caught the limit."
As Will staggered through the doorway, leaning heavily against Ron as he tried not to move his broken leg, he panted, "Not that I'm not grateful, but won't this fail your 'test'?"
"Nah," Ron grinned - for the first time that Will could recall in the entire conversation, and the difference in his expression, both from how he remembered Ron from before, and from earlier in the conversation, was both striking and dramatic. "By throwing you back, GJ has to pay your medical bills. And I'm sure you'll come after her again, so better the devil you know, and all that."
Ron watched Will's escape pod as it receded from view, heading west towards the setting sun, the flashing distress beacon on top lighting its way. "No laser fire; Kim must agree with me." Ron felt satisfied about that - for a number of reasons, not least of which was the agent's survival.
"Ron, come to the control room," Kim's voice came from a hidden speaker, distracting him from his first view of the world beyond the walls of Kim's lair in over a week.
"On my way," Ron announced to the empty air.
Ron's steps faltered as he entered the control room. Kim was as shirtless as he, and her lacy bra was shockingly white against the smooth blue backdrop of her chest.
"Nicely handled Ron - Ed, Monkey Fist, and Will," Kim praised him with a smile. "Not exactly how I would have dealt with them, but well done nonetheless. And you made good time, too; I was still changing." Stepping closer, she gestured towards the bulging remnants of his shirt he clutched in one hand. "What's that?"
Unconcerned that Kim affected to not know the answer, despite otherwise knowing his every move, Ron set the makeshift bag atop a console and let the contents spill in front of a keyboard. "Will's toys." He kept his face expressionless as Kim walked past him to examine the booty, even when she "accidentally" brushed one lace-encased breast against his arm.
Kim stirred the various devices with one hand, then paused with a finger resting on the silicon phase disrupter. "They think I'm controlling your mind with an implant or a chip," she snorted in amused disbelief. "GJ is full of fools. Just because it's what they would do, they assume... I never fully grasped the idea before, but for all their budget and pretension, they are just as worthless and ineffective as everyone else in the world. Aside from you..."
She turned and ran her hand gently across his shoulder, ending with her fingers cupped possessively across her initials branded into his skin. "I should have known you'd understand what I was doing." She sounded thoroughly pleased with that fact. "You should have told me sooner," she mock scolded, gently tracing a series of scars on his back left by her clawed gloves. "I wouldn't have bothered with such... crude techniques."
Kim stroked his cheek gently with her other hand. "Since I made you start realizing your potential, more and more I'm learning what a gift you are to me."
Ron's eyes dipped, and he found himself looking at her all but naked chest. He closed his eyes tightly, willing himself not to see or think about the darker bits of flesh that had been visible through the fine mesh of the lace.
"Should I offer again?" Kim teased, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his. "Everyone already thinks we are..." she breathed against his lips.
Ron simply shook his head in negation, keeping his eyes tightly closed.
"You really are mine, aren't you? The extension of my will, my strong right arm, my dagger in the night," Kim breathed, the pleasure in her voice plain as she waxed eloquent. Despite the way she nuzzled his cheek, he maintained his composure and left his arms hanging limply at his sides. "I could order you," she told him, enjoying the attempt to crack his mask of indifference too much to care that she wasn't more successful in her seduction as she tugged gently on his studded collar.
Ron didn't respond to either the verbal or nonverbal invitations.
"I need to give Dr. Director a call, or I would order you, I think. Especially since I have some errands for you to run in Middleton, and it will be some time before we're together again. But the anticipation will surely add spice when it does happen."
Ron's eyes opened as he blinked. Stepping back, away from her touch, he carefully told her, "Anything you want. You know that."
"Yes..." Kim lingeringly replied, savoring the word. "Eventually."
Still smiling, but in a much more businesslike tone of voice, she instructed, "The Middleton Space Center will be launching a resupply rocket for the space station in two days. Before then, put these," she gestured towards a trio of featureless metallic orbs resting on a counter, "aboard the rocket, in the access space between the tertiary and final stages."
"Frederick is on the space station," Ron noted to himself, so quietly as to be almost inaudible.
"I know," Kim casually responded. "Once that task is complete," she continued, "there is a lab near Mount Middleton with some materials I need you to collect. Some are for Ed's project, some for other matters. It shouldn't be very difficult, and I've gathered all the supplies you'll need for these and a few other, minor missions. I've also written down all your instructions so you won't forget anything. You can read them over while you're on the way. Do you have any questions?"
As he sank to his knees, Ron slowly shook his head, his face impassive despite his churning emotions.
Kim gently hugged Ron, holding his face snugly against her chest. "You are mine," she told him firmly, "Never forget it."
Ruffling his hair while holding him against her, Kim told him, "Your hair's getting so long. You need to take better care of yourself. And you deserve a treat - since you won't accept the one I really want to give you," she teased, running her thumb up and down the length of his brand.
Behind Kim, a door whooshed open to admit a humanoid robot carrying a familiarly decorated paper bag, steaming and emitting the smell of meat, cheese, and grease. "I had this flown in from the Bueno Nacho in Casablanca just for you. You need to eat more - keep your strength up," she told him.
With his face pressed against her, Ron vaguely wondered if she could feel his tears as they soaked into the soft fabric of her brassiere. "I've got... freedom." "Anything for you, Kim," he mumbled against the warmth of her blue skin, as tears continued leaking from his eyes. "Anything."
With Kim's watchful eye on him, Ron dried his tears before raising his head. He managed to swallow a few bites of the naco while she approvingly watched him eat, but the food tasted of ash in his mouth.
As soon as Kim's attention was diverted, as she finished dressing for her call, Ron stealthily slipped away, leaving the remainder of the food congealing on the floor.
Author's Notes: In case you couldn't tell by now, I'm treating this one a little differently from some of my other works. Part of it is simply lack of time - if I wrote this with the level of detail of TSOM or KP:STD, it'd take forever - and part is a stylistic choice - after all, minutiae of lair construction or bot design (which is a large part of the beginning of Kim's plan to this point) may be nifty, but it would be fairly tedious to read - and write - about. This approach shows glimpses of the developments in evil Kim's plans, and what's happening in Ron's mind in broad terms, without explicitly spelling anything out - and there's a reason why it isn't being detailed... yet, but glimpses of motivations should be visible.
Let me know what you think, and R&R!
And because I'm feeling evil, here's a segment from about part 4 or 5...
Bonnie Rockwaller awoke with a start as a chill breeze washed across her face. "I thought I closed the window before I went to bed," she sleepily thought.
After rubbing her eyes, Bonnie blinked as the wind caused the filmy material of her curtains to billow inward. She shivered as the cold air played across her arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
She sat up, then shivered as more of her was exposed to the cold air through her thin nightdress. Before Bonnie could slip from her bed to close the window, some sixth sense tickled at the edge of her consciousness, and she abruptly realized she was not alone in her bedroom.
Bonnie turned her head, somehow sensing the presence of the shadowed figure standing in the corner. Before her swiftly indrawn breath could be released in a scream of terror, Bonnie found herself pinned to the bed, a powerful hand sealing her mouth shut and trapping her screams behind a muffling barrier.
Hyperventilating through her nose, Bonnie's eyes widened in fear as she thrashed beneath the intruder, hampered by the bedclothes entangled around her lower half. Despite her athleticism and years of both ballet and cheerleading to lend her strength, flexibility, and grace, she could neither displace the weight from atop her, nor land a blow - he (and she assumed it was a he, though she still could only see a shadowy shape) seemed to slip away from her every attempt, and hold her ever more tightly while trapping her more securely.
A sliver of moonlight reflecting from her vanity mirror briefly bathed the intruder's face in pale silvery-blue light, illuminating chocolate-brown eyes. The fight drained from Bonnie with a jarring abruptness as profound relief flooded her.
"Oh... It's just Stoppable. Stupid jerk - scaring me like that... What's he think he's doing? And what's with the collar? He must be taking the whole 'mad dog' thing to heart."
But after her initial rush of confused thoughts had run its course, her moment of relief was swiftly replaced by renewed worry as she wondered, "Wait... What's the froob doing in my room? Is one of Kim's freaks after me?"
With Bonnie stilled, Ron swiftly contained her, entangling her legs tightly in her blanket and trapping her arms beneath the weight of his knees, immobilizing her beneath him. When she showed signs of resuming her struggles, he leaned close so she could see him - however dimly - and held one finger up to his lips to tell her to be silent.
Although confusion and worry were plain in her eyes, Bonnie slowly nodded. Ron's grip on her mouth eased slightly, but he didn't release his hold entirely, nor did he relent in keeping her pinned.
With her eyes following his every move, Ron lightly tapped the metal bracelet encircling the wrist above the hand covering her mouth. With the faintest crackle of static, a small hologram hummed into life floating in the air above Bonnie's face.
Kim's smirking face appeared to look down across Bonnie's. Even with how dim the holographic illumination was, she was readily identifiable.
The image was barely larger than a doll or a Cuddle-Buddy, about a foot in height, and replicated Kim in miniature - although she was garbed in some black outfit Bonnie had never seen her wear before. "Not to mention the blue skin. You'd think if they'd be willing to spend all that money on the fancy gizmo they'd make sure the color balance was tuned."
"Hello, Bonnie," Kim's voice came to Bonnie, but she couldn't seem to place where it was coming from. "Don't bother looking for a speaker," Kim's voice held more than a hint of smug superiority as she explained, "You and Ron are hearing me via bone induction. I'd tell you how it works, but you wouldn't understand me, anyway."
"Arrogant cow," Bonnie thought to herself, somehow resisting the urge to spit into Kim's pet's palm.
"Save the insults," the hologram continued. "And no, I can't read your mind - but I know you, and you're very predictable. It's pitifully easy to predict your responses.
"If Ron's followed his instructions, and I don't doubt he has, you're all alone in your room, he's holding you down, and his hands are on your body, enabling you to hear me. Do you like it? Were you frightened?"
"So not," Bonnie snorted against Ron's palm, recovering her composure as she mustered her instinctive animosity towards her cheerleading nemesis and her hanger-on.
"Don't lie," Kim's image grinned. "Because, frankly, you should be frightened. Ron's been very good lately, and he deserves a reward. And, Bonnie... that reward... is you."
Bonnie's eyes widened in shock. Ron's weight shifted slightly atop her, but before Kim's words could really sink in, her voice continued.
"At least in part," the holo-Kim smirked, "but you don't need to know the rest, Bon-Bon. You've always been a pain, and to be blunt, you're also self-centered, self-serving, conniving, a liar, a cheat, a malicious gossip, a boyfriend stealer, and a tease. The world would be a better place if you'd never been born - and considering the people living in the world right now, that's really saying something. I'd tell Ron where the belt buckle he bought you is, by the way. It's mine now. You don't deserve a gift from him."
Too frightened and confused to muster a word or thought of protest, Bonnie simply stared up at the hologram of Kim's evilly grinning blue face and the shadowed shape of Ron's face that was dimly visible through the holographic projection. Trapped beneath the weight of Ron's body, with Kim's taunts echoing through her skull, Bonnie's lungs heaved as her fear began to spiral out of control.
"Ron," Kim's voice continued. "Enjoy yourself. She owes you. For years of torment, mockery, and pain." She smiled, the expression incongruously loving as she added, "You'll have to show me everything you learn from the experience when you've completed your missions - and be sure to bring me a souvenir. I can't wait for you to come back to me. Hurry back... I'll be waiting for you," she finished, a none-too-subtle promise heating her words.
Bonnie struggled, briefly, as the hologram flickered out and Kim's voice went silent. Then she felt a touch against the side of her neck, and after a moment everything went dark.
Ron checked to be sure the pressure point had worked, and that Bonnie was truly unconscious, then cautiously lifted himself from atop her. "Maybe there's something to those books Kim took from Monty's library after all."
Ron waited a moment, listening for the faintest hint of awareness of his presence from the other residents of the house. When all remained still, he began his search.
The ruby belt buckle he'd bought for Bonnie while in a frenzy of sudden wealth he found concealed at the bottom of her jewelry box, under a camouflaging handful of cheap costume jewelry. Ron felt a moment's hesitation when he found Bonnie's diary in a dresser drawer, but quickly swallowed his initial reaction and claimed it - as well as a few other items that Bonnie would undoubtedly rather keep private.
Although he was reluctant to take the revenge any further, he doubted Kim would be satisfied with his meager collection. From a sheath at the back of his belt, he drew a slim-bladed knife. The blade flashed brightly in the moonlight as Ron gazed down on Bonnie's unconscious face, sending shards of silver dancing across her prone form. "She looks so innocent... so peaceful like this..."
"Forgive me, Bon-Bon," Ron whispered, leaning down.
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