Disclaimer--- I very much don't own these characters. They are owned by disney and dc comics, have a nice day

A/N: The title for this chapter is taken from a song by blind guardian. I don't know if the song has anything to do with the story, the title just fit. Also I just realized a mistake I made earlier on. Access's first name is axel, last name is not foely... cause I don't remember his real name I'm just gonna call him access.

On another note: This chapter isn't betaed, sorry but for some reason hotmail didn't want to email my beta. Sorry for any reading inconviance this may have caused.

As always please review. And this is really important for this fic: Please review. If you want the whole spiel check out my author page. But shortened version. I'm having a crisis of faith on these fanfics. So please let me know what you think, even if it's not positive news. I'd rather hear a bad review than no feedback at all. Oh and if I continue wriing these fics, I may start suggesting music to listen to while reading certain sections in lew of putting in song quotes. Hope ya'll enjoy this.

Chapter Four: Journey Through the Dark

It was the twenty fifth day of Solack in the year of the Primagoatia. The sun rose steadily in the sky, as if upon greased rails. To one man though this progress was no where near steady enough. He wanted the sun to reach its apex now, before anything could go wrong. Not that anything could. This was to be his time. And nothing would stop him, not even the pretender and his little friend.

The man thinking these thoughts greatly resembled an evolutionary throwback. His body and face were manlike, although more than a tad hairier than they should have been. The rest of him was not so normal. Resting at the bottom of his long, hairy, and thickly muscled legs was an appendage not found on any other human being. At first glance it might have been possible to mistake them for human feet, if you were drunk and blind. His feet were longer, wider than a typical human's. The five toes were longer as well, containing an extra joint that allowed them to bend and curl, acting like another set of hands. The pads of his feet were thick, toughened by his continuing refusal to where any kind of shoe, lest his odd feet bee unable to fulfill their functions as a second set of hands. His hands were also different. They were far larger than any humans had a right to be. Hands like his had not adorned human bodies for centuries. Not since humans had evolved in fact. The same was true of his feet. The only place one could find hands and feet such as his would be attached to a monkey, like the ones dressed from head to ankle in dark fabric that surrounded him. The horde of them stood dispersed throughout the rather large room.

The room the monkeys inhabited was quit different from the rest of the museum. For one thing it had just recently been assembled. The paint was still fresh on the sign reading: New Exhibit. Each and every brick that lined the perimeter of the room had been removed with careful precision from the exact room in a mysterious temple that the idol that sat in the center of the exhibit had been found. The interior of the room itself was dark. This was because the only light that entered the room was through the small slit of a missing brick in the ceiling. Currently the light fell well short of the idol of Simiar. It illuminated only the bricks lining the floor. Under these bricks was a thick layer of the soil attained at the same moment

Monkey Fist was impressed, as well as pleased. Some curator had obviously spent time making sure every detail was right. And that was what assured him of his victory. As soon as the thin strip of light struck the center of the stone idol the power would be his. And nothing would be able to take it way.

It was too bad he didn't notice the flashing red box in the upper left hand corner of the hallway that connected the new exhibit to the rest of the museum. Or the one difference in the exhibit and the temple it was supposed to mimic: a grate covering the entrance to the air vent in the room's ceiling.

In a room in Middleton there is a bed. By the sheets covering it, one could easily tell that it belonged to a girl. The rest of the room was much like that, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that the owner was a seventeen year old girl. Her name was Kim Possible. It said so on her backpack. It was said she could do anything. Right now anything consisted of curling up into a ball and crying.

Four familiar tones broke the silence of her bedroom. It was the first time in days. Technically she was still off duty. With Ron gone she'd retreated to the safety of her room, of the memories trapped inside. It wasn't like her, she was well aware of that. She should just try to get on with her life, but staying in her room was so much easier.

The kimmunicator didn't give up. Its incessant beeping continued, quickly eroding what little restraint she currently possessed. The beeping that had started only heartbeats before came to a sudden, final termination as the small blue device shattered against the wall. Tears rolled down her soft face as she curled up inside her self.

Small clicks filled the room. A distant hum became louder as the seconds ticked by. After thirty had passed her computer flared to life. The deep blackness of the screen faded in a flash of color, leaving the small, dumpy form of Wade Load. The young tech wizard's eyes quickly found her.

"Kim, we've got a hit."

Her reply was muffled by the fact that her head was buried in-between her legs.

"Uh, what was that?"

The fiery tresses hovered in the air, just enough so that he could make out her mumblings.

They kinda sounded like, "'m not interested." But there was no way to be sure. Regardless he pressed on.

"Kim, it's Monkey Fist. He's stolen an idol. It's said to be highly dangerous. The collector that owned it had it kept under lock and key in an high security vault, well until his son had it transferred to the Middleton Museum of Culture."

She didn't responded, the despair that filled her left no room for her to suck in the air she would need to reply.

"Come on KP, what would Ron say?"

Her tear stained face broke away from the protective shell of her knees.

"He's not here."

"Would he want Monkey Fist ruling the world?"

Several tense heartbeats passed as Wade waited for Kim's response. Finally a single syllable broke past her lips.

"No."

A smile spread across Wade's digital countenance. It faded slightly as he realized that she was no longer looking at him. Her eyes were pointedly fixed on an image on her night table. It was of a dopey looking blonde youth wearing a classic red jersey and a pair of cargo pants. Despair tainted Wade's features as he assumed the worst. The redhead's lips kept moving, oblivious to her friend's concern.

"He wouldn't."

Kim stood, her hands reaching to clear the saltwater trails from her cheeks.

"What's the sitch Wade."

The pudgy boy smiled, as the cloud of despair surrounding them both thinned.

This hurt, was the one thought Ron Stoppable was currently capable of having. It was three hours after Slade had given him the first injection of the serum that would increase his physical and mental potentials beyond that of a normal human. The pain was an unmentioned side effect. Currently he was strapped to a gurney in an isolated, white, sterile room that looked quite out of place in the homey house Slade had taken him to. But he wasn't focused on his surroundings. He was too busy feeling pain. His body felt bad, like he had a very severe fever. The world spun at random intervals, even when he did not move. His eyes constantly watered even as his throat felt parched. His muscles felt surprisingly sore and weaker than he would have ever thought possible. A few times he'd tried to stand, every attempt ended with him falling unceremoniously to the floor and Slade putting him back onto the lab's bed.

The worst thing though, was what was happening inside his skull. Every new thought sent bolts of pain streaming through his skull. Whenever he tried opening his eyes all that appeared were swirls of color. And somehow they burned. Strangely enough his cock stood erect, as if it were some form of perverse monolith. It pushed at the gown covering the boy, making an obvious tent. Slade politely ignored it.

Amidst the waves of pain inside Ron's mind, phantom hands caressed him. The pale yellow hands moved across his body with a sureness that could only have belonged to a girl he'd spent many nights with. Her delicate voice rang in his years, repeating her favorite nickname for him, the one he'd earned the first time they'd met: Ron-san. He tried to latch onto her as the pain continued. He couldn't though. Every time he came close, his own phantom hands stretching out towards her, coming inches from holding her sweet soft flesh again, she would dance away only coming back when his hands fell to his sides in disappointment. And then the cycle would begin again.

Above Ron's sweating form Slade merely checked his watch as Rufus chittered nervously.

The vent was cramped. She fit, but just barely. Apparently the men in charge of redesigning the museum, were a tad more up on security details. She'd had to disable several traps as she'd crawled along the narrow passage. And she'd had to resort to sneaking through the air ducts because, for some strange reason, they'd installed a lock down mode complete with several foot thick titanium shudders. The idea had been to lock a thief inside with whatever artifact they'd come for until the head of security arrived. Unfortunately Monkey Fist needed to be in that room for the ritual to work, and all the shutters were doing was keeping the calvary out. The tech geek in charge were on their way, but it'd take them a few hours to flew in, and it was their thumb prints that they needed. According to Wade, and the research paper the curator who had assembled the exhibit had written, they didn't have hours. So she was stuck crawling through a tight air vent all alone.

As she moved, she repeated a silent mantra. She was doing this for him, for Ron. She just had to keep reminding her self of that fact. It made it easier to crawl through ventilation ducts without him. She had always known she'd needed him, even if she'd been too proud to admit it at times. He was her best friend and her confidant, well on most things. She trusted him with a side of herself that noone else even got a glimpse of. She'd cried herself to sleep in his arms, trembled out her nightmares safe in those warm, limp limbs. He was a sanctuary for her. And she'd been deprived that. She was aware of how selfish that sounded, but she didn't mean it that way. She wasn't angry with him. She knew he needed to do what he felt was right, no matter how much it hurt. She just wished he was by her side, where he belonged.

The sound of voices, inhuman ones at that, pulled her focus from what was missing. She had a job in front of her and she was going to get it done. She could feel sorry for herself later. In front of her was exactly what she needed. The vent widened a bit and there was a grate just begging to be knocked free. Well, who was she to look such a gift in the mouth?

She easily made her way to the grate and, after that, quickly dislodged it. It fell through the air, hitting the floor with a resounding clang a few seconds later.

Kim thrust herself through the opening left after she'd knocked the grate free. Like it she fell straight down. Her lithe form rolled with the impact, letting none of it actually harm her. As she brought her head back up to gaze once more at the surrounding area a harsh gasp met her ears. A few inches in front of her, within easy striking distance, was monkey fist. Unfortunately he wasn't alone. Clustered around both him and the pedestal he'd been standing in front of was a large group of monkeys clad in black cloths. The little simians did not leap about or make noise. Instead they focused intently on Kim as she met their stare. Without breaking her eye contact with the group of ninjas, Kim tried to take stock of her surroundings. She tried to remember what she'd seen of the room as she'd fallen through the grate. Unfortuantly Monkey Fist did not give her the time to recover the information on the room she required. Instead he spoke, prompting her to switch her gaze to look at him, even as her brain took stock of him.

"Kim Possible." He more whispered the name in shock than actually spoke it.

Monkey Fist. Her eyes narrowed as they latched onto the genetically altered villain.

For his part, Fist recovered quickly. Heartbeats before a look of shock had coated his face. Now that expression had faded, leaving one that reeked of contempt and self assurance.

"Ah Miss Possible. And where is your sidekick? Too broken up about the loss of his beloved Yamanouchi to show his face?"

Kim's face tightened. Her usual expression had hardened, containing none of the amused mirth that often showed itself on her ventures when she bantered. This time only rock hard determination met Fist's jibe. Her tone was much the same when she responded seconds after he had spoken.

"Her name was Yori."

The simian villain gave a twisted laugh.

"Foolish child. I referred not to a girl, but to the school where the imposter was training. Or did he not mention it to you?"

The girl's face gave nothing away, not even under the intensity of the Englishman's gaze. Her fist did give away something though. The message was a tad obvious and even the ranting villain understood.

Monkey fist wiped at his face, removing the thin trail of blood leaking from his lips.

"I see Ms. Possible. Very well we shall do it your way. Monkey ninjas attack!"

And suddenly the monkeys that had been remaining so placidly still became alive, jumping at leaping with incredible speed. It was all Kim could do to fend off the first wave of furry attackers, throwing punches when ever she had a breather from countless attacks of the squad of ninjas. Such respites were rare, resulting mostly when two ninjas interfered with each others attacks. The sheer volume of attackers made such a thing possible. Every second monkey hands would shoot out, attempting to sneak past her guard. For every punch she managed to block another monkey waited, ready to make its move. A system that protected them from exhaustion, A protection that Kim did not possess.

As the fight dragged on, seconds becoming agonizing minutes, more and more of the nimble monkey's attacks snuck through, leaving her battered, and weakening her defense even more, letting more blows through.

Despite the slow pounding she was steadily receiving Kim was launching her own attacks as well. A monkey kicked out. She managed to grab its tiny foot. She yanked with all her might, causing the small simian to continue on past her, until it crashed into the ninja attempting to sneak up on her. After blocking yet another punch she threw one herself. She connected, knocking one monkey back, only for another to slam its fist into her rib cage. It was the fifth such hit and her ribs hurt immensely. This had never been this hard and during the deluge of attacks her pain addled mind came to a dark conclusion. She really did need Ron, despite what global justice thought these days. Without him she was just another teenager in over her head. With him she could be unstoppable. Another fist slammed into her ribcage, sending more tendrils of pain through her, and focusing her mind just a tad more. She was starting to get very tired. She'd been fighting the monkeys for a least fifteen minutes now and she was at the very end of her stamina. Despite the consequences she lashed out again, swinging randomly at the collected monkeys, whose ranks she had managed to thin a little. Her foot slammed into one's head, knocking it down. Another's skull met her fist and it too slumped beneath the power of her attacks. She unleashed a third strike and then a forth, each time knocking a monkey back and down. On what was to be her fifth strike a hairy hand encircled her wrist. It was larger than that of a monkey ninja. Monkey Fist. She'd almost forgotten about him. He grinned evilly as he held her.

"Not as tough without the imposter are you?"

With that he tugged throwing her into the wall several feet behind her. Pain shot through her body as flesh met brick. Her world spun slightly as she looked up at the slowly spinning view of monkey fist, even as he grinned that unpleasant grin of his. A sick feeling washed over her as he spoke.

"My how I've waited for this day."

Ron Stoppable was trying not to die. He was still trapped inside the fever the injection had caused. Every second had been agony until he'd passed out, or at least that's what his observers thought had happened. Instead his heart beat slowly and his brain waves were barely there, but he did not wake. Inside his head, though, where neither Rufus nor Slade could see his mind raced.

Why had he agreed to this? There was absolutely no reason he should trust this random guy. And yes he was pissed off, his parents were dead, but for all he knew this guy had something to do with it. And Yori... He was being hysterical. The thought bubbled up from somewhere deep inside him. He knew it was true. That train of thought ended there. Of course he was hysterical he'd just lost his entire family, his girl-friend, and now he was in the middle of he didn't know where with some raving super-villain lunatic who was looking to train him.

He should just leave, but if he did... His thoughts trailed off, leaving him alone with the faces plaguing his mind. They danced, mockingly, in front of his tired eyes, chanting a silent mantra as they did so. He couldn't hear them, but the he could see their lips moving. Somehow that was vivid enough for him to make the words. Their lips moved in lurid, frightening patterns, accusing him of failing, or being worthless. Then three appeared strongly out of the melee of random faces. The first two he'd grown up with, they smiled slightly, even as their lips moved. The silent, well what could we expect, tore at him even more than the hundreds of affirmations of his worthlessness had.

And then he heard it, bounding inside his head, warped by the fever. It was a voice, and despite the alterations to it caused by his state of mind he thought he could recognize it. It sounded so familiar, it was on the tip of his tongue, but the fever kept the knowledge dancing just out of his reach. He thought he could feel his hands reach across the endless mixture of black and red that had become the world around him. Just out of their reach was the knowledge he needed. If he could get it everything would makes sense. He strained hard, even as Yori's face danced in front of his eyes. Her lips begged him to respond, to tell her why he'd let her die, let them all die. He was the chosen one wasn't he? Had he lied to her, was he a liar? Or was it that her Ron-san simply didn't care enough? Why hadn't he saved her from being raped, from being tortured. Had the nights they'd spent together meant nothing to him? Perhaps they should have meant nothing to her. He was a loser, a pitiful excuse for a lover and a hero.

His fingers stopped questing as the harsh truth of Yori's soundless words caused tears to well inside his eyes. The sea of red and black blurred, and the truth flew away, leaving him desperate and alone. Save for the voice. It wasn't cackling, but within it contained a note of warning that it might just do that at any time. He knew it was laughing at him. Who wouldn't. He couldn't even make it through a simple enhancement treatment. He was going to die here and the world would be a better place.

"Maybe, but that wouldn't be nearly as interesting. Least not for me."

His eyes cleared, and his perspective shifted, as the world seemed to swirl around him, spinning in the kind of circle that only occurred in odd animes. What he was faced with would definitely occur in the odd animes he'd watched when he was a kid.

In front of him, smirking, was himself. The same and yet different. He hadn't aged, but his face was harder, harsher, as if he had been a fighter. Small scars stained his face, along with a larger one. It stretched in a diagonal across his right eye, starting in the middle of his forehead and going until it reached his cheek bone. Inside the side was a blank orb. It stared ahead as Ron watched himself intently. A smile was on his duplicate's face. It was one Ron had not seen before. It wasn't exactly evil, though the closest thing he had ever seen had been on Shego's face. It held confidence, and more than a hint of strength. It was the smile of a predator, more than confident that it could handle its pray. It was the smile of a man completely comfortable in his own abilities. Floating beside him was a severed monkey head. The one eyed Ron glanced at it and shrugged, and it disappeared, only to be replaced by a massive ape. Once again the one eyed Ron shrugged and the ape vanished. The one eyed Ron smiled, turned to focus fully on Ron, nodded his head, turned around and faded backwards, slowly oozing into the real Ron Stoppable's body.

And then he was in front of a mirror, inside a very blue space. The image in front of him flickered slightly. At first it was himself, but as he stared hues of orange and black worked themselves in, transposing themselves onto his red jersey and brown pants.

His youthful face flickered in and out of the image in front of him, becoming a mask of golden and black hues, upon its was painted a mouth that was not yet a grin. Two slits allowed his eyes to pear out. In the waking world false memories would have told him whose costume he wore, but here in side the realm of his true mind he had no clue and merely watched in fascination as the dream wore on. Under his steady gaze the image flickered on last time before settling upon an image. He was wearing a costume, one he could not recognize. Gold and deep blue were interspersed throughout the costume, each taking over random sections of the outfit. It formed an elaborate pattern that he had no idea as to the meaning of. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a monkey clap.

Kim's back was against the wall and she had nowhere to go. Fist had her overpowered and out numbered. For a second she thought about giving up. She didn't know it was only a second, it felt much slower, as if everything else had stopped while desperation flicked inside her mind. Monkey Fist's stinking breath filled her nostrils and his ugly, hairy face filled her vision. He didn't seem to move for an eternity. During the short period he filled all available space around her, seemingly pushing time out as well. He filled her every thought. How could she have hoped to win against something as disgusting as him. The odds were completely in his favor too. She was exhausted beyond belief and he was in perfect condition. Victory was impossible. The excuses stopped there. Impossible was nothing. She'd been doing the impossible for years. It was impossible for a teenager to constantly thwart dangerous criminals that even trained professionals had issues with. It was also impossible for her to operate as she did without a single personal attack. It was impossible for her to juggle school, cheerleading, and saving the world. It was impossible for her to continually escape death traps. It was impossible for her to do any of this without any superpowers and only a touch of formal training. She'd proved time and time again that nothing was impossible for a Possible. This time would be no different, despite the fact that she was alone and Monkey fist was holding her pressed up against a wall, one of his massive hands holding her wrists above her head. It was no big and she was going to prove the family motto right again.

Her brief confidence was shattered when Fist's hand tore through her blouse/top, leaving her nearly topless in front of him, with only her bra protecting her modesty. Her breasts bounced a bit as she shook in shock. She tried to marshal a retort, but it died unspoken as Fist cracked her across the face. The blow made her head spin and blood well up inside her mouth. His leer died upon his face when her booted foot said what her mouth couldn't. It sprang up between his legs, slamming into his tightening balls with everything Kim possessed. Fist's face scrunched up into a mask of absolute agony. The hand gripping Kim's wrists did so no longer as Fist brought it back to cup his wounded pride. Kim would have none of it though. Her confidence returned as a warm rage suffused her system. It flowed into every pore, muscle, and bone giving her strength were a moment ago there was none. She took advantage of it. She lashed out, this time with a recently freed arm. She punched Fist much the same was he had done to her only seconds before. A grim smile passed over her lips at the cracking sound that echoed through the air. Blood dribbled down Fist's chin. Kim didn't let that deter her though. She swung her booted foot through the air once more and smiled as her foot connected with Fist's face in a sweeping out to in crescent kick. She didn't let up, landing blow after blow while his monkey followers stood mutely aside, none foolish enough to tangle with the angry woman. Not without a direct order at least. When Kim finished her brutal pounding of him, Fist squeaked out a quick order.

"Monkey ninjas attack."

None did. Nor did they make a move to prevent Kim from striking Fist again. Her fists set up another brutal rhythm upon Fist's body. Knuckle met quickly bruising flesh again and again, as the anger born of what he'd planned to do to her drove her on. She was so wrapped up on bloodying Monkey Fist some more she completely failed to notice the single ray of light illuminating the room strike the idol dead center.

A few hundred miles away the true monkey master opened his eyes and a naked mole-rat sighed in relief. His servants just watched Kim Possible carefully, waiting for another order from their master. One more punch sent Monkey Fist into the peaceful throes of sleep. She wanted to just collapse and sleep, but there was still things to do. First she would need to deactivate the security system, allowing the cops in. Wade had said he'd be able to do so if she plugged the kimmunicator into the main security terminal. After all this time she'd assumed as much. Maybe after that she'd have time to worry about why Fist's monkey ninjas were all sitting around staring at her. But first off, she really needed to find some thing that could be used as a shirt. She briefly considered using Monkey Fist's black gi top, but didn't want to see him topless under any circumstance. She gave up the search after a few minutes. Modesty was all well and good, but it could wait until she was safe and sound at home. Sighing she walked out of the sparsely decorated room, moving towards the museum's security control room.

A surge of energy shot through Ron Stoppable. The very hairs upon his young, lanky body stood up. His deep brown eyes changed, first taking on a tinge of yellow and then becoming deeper. The end result was a brown color that had not been a part of a human's eye since man out evolved his ape cousins. But it did not last. As soon as Slade turned his head, even the slightest fraction of an inch, the mysterious color vanished leaving the chocolate brown that was all to normal. The change in color had been a trick of the light, nothing more. And just as Ron's eyes hadn't truly changed, neither did the rest of him. His hands did not elongate. His feet did not twist and bend until they resembled those of his archnemesis. In fact not a single hair fell out of place as Ron practically leapt out of the uncomfortable lab bed he'd been placed in. The electrodes reading his vital signs snapped off him as his back arched as he bolted into a sitting position, thrusting his chest high into the air. Little red circles were the only trace of the devices as Ron sat up panting. An image of a smiling monkey had been the last thing he'd seen before he'd been freed from the fever dream.
Far away in another state, at an old abandoned hotel near a beautiful green forest a youth with black hair was sitting bored upon a couch. His muscular back pressed against the thick, beige, backrest. Without thinking he stretched, his arms, thick with muscles, rising up till they were level with his shoulders before resting upon the top of the couch. His head supported by his thick neck hung back, the fluffy thick foam hidden beneath the mustard yellow swirl that Wonder Girl found so charming, supporting it. Superboy lifted his head as a sound reached his ears. He recognized the delicate gasp of approval and it sent shivers rippling down his well built chest. When his eyes found its owner all he could do was stare.

Cassie Sandsmark, or Wonder Girl, stood a few feet away, enjoying her unexpected view. Her blond hair was damp. Occasionally, about once a second, a bead of water would form upon a tip, and wait another second before falling. On the third second it would strike the plush rug that covered the enormous room that held the t.v., Superboy, and the entrance in from the pool. His eyes found her form almost immediately, staring intently at her body. The tight red one piece bathing suit she wore highlighted her features much more effectively than it hid them. He could see the six pack she possessed, the muscles making their impression in the clinging fabric. Her nice sized breasts pushed up against the fabric covering her chest, rasing something within him. Normally she'd blush and look away. Her blond hair would whip around as she tried to escape his gaze. That didn't happen this time though. She had already begun her own visual exploration of his body and would not be distracted. Her eyes traveled over his uniform, the only clothing he wore most days. The blue and red spandex looked as if it was form fitting. There didn't seem to be any space between it and his skin. She could make out just about every line of muscle he possessed. When she had almost reached his legs, she saw just how tight his costume was. Straining against the fabric was something that stole her breath and made her flush with pleasure.

They remained like that each staring at the other, neither capable of speaking until a blur of red moving at hypersonic speeds burst into the room.

"Hi! Whatcha guys doing?"

Bart Allen, Impulse, was not the tallest kid, but his mass of shaggy brown hair helped to compensate for his perceived lack of height. And as the hair would lead one to believe Impulse was no ordinary teen, even for a super hero. Technically he was only five years old. He'd been born with the gift of super speed, and a metabolism to match. He'd aged rapidly and completely uncontrolled until his grandmother had brought him back in time so that his cousin could help him. And help him Wally did. Now Impulse was aging normally and was no longer confined to the virtual world his rapid aging had forced him to grow up in. But because mentally he lacked awareness of anything but a fictional dream scape he'd been left in the care of the mentor of heroes, and a hero himself, Max Mercury. And though his ability to grasp and understand reality had improved significantly in his time with Max, he still hadn't mastered the concept of flirting, or good timing for that matter. So he simply stood smiling at the now disgruntled and embarrassed teens. Superboy's glare doubled, perhaps tripled once Cassie ran off, blushing profusely and stammering the entire time. They'd come so close to actually saying something to each other, despite neither's mouth being ready at all to move.