Evolution: Middleton Monster
Lost
By Noveler00
Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to the characters of Kim Possible or X-Men Evolution, so don't sue you won't get much. I write fanfics for the pure enjoyment for all, without any profit. Enjoy.
AN: Notes won't be that long this time. This part of my Fic wasn't too well thought out so thats why it took so long.
ron-sama: I wasn't going for pity when I was describing what Ron was going through. As for the nature of his powers, it is a morphing power, but its more along the lines Bloody Roar, in the way his morphed form looks like. Oh, and laser eyes are too good for Ron :)
Cold-Chaos: When I posted the last chapter I skip my normal editing routine; finish draft, wait one day, read over on monitor while checking for errors, print document, read document and mark errors, fix errors from hard copy, wait one day and reread document. This usually get most of my errors. I just finished the draft and posted it. I didn't do the same with this part. Oh its similes not syllables, and I'll try to use more of them. I appreciate the help.
"Monster Strikes Middleton," read the front-page head lines of the Middleton Gazette. With the headline were two portraits, one of Ron, with an ear-to-ear grin, the other a plain photo of Jeff. The article below goes on to explain how the monsters maliciously attack its victims; two photos accompanied it to help explain. The first showed a picture of a red head on her knees leaning against the doorframe leading into Ron's room. The note underneath the picture states, "Local teen hero Kim Possible arrived at the scene and became emotionally distraught at the destruction of young Stoppable's room." The other photo showed an old rust brown truck with its roof peeled open and the driver side door missing. The note for it stated, "Jeff Cotter was removed from his vehicle by the creature and brutally mauled."
A short man muscular man with wild black hair lowered the newspaper in his hand and looked at the Stoppable household. He folded up the paper, stuffed it into his suede leather jacket, and zipped it up. The morning was cool and wind was blowing over overcast. It didn't bother him much he's been through worse.
He walked over the home and rung the doorbell. There was a little time before the door was answered. A burly man with blonde hair and thin framed glasses answered the door. He didn't have much of a choice but to look up at the man. The blonde man had a gloom look on his face, but he tried to put up a smile out of courtesy
"Jonathan Stoppable?" addressed the man in the leather jacket with a gruff voice.
"Yes," replied the blonde.
"I'm here to investigate the disappearance of your son."
Mr. Stoppable looked at the man and watched him remove his shades and place them into over the zipper of his jacket. This man had hardened focused eyes, as if he had seen many things that were not too pleasant for any normal person. He drew his gaze back and examined the man more thoroughly. He didn't seem too inconspicuous wearing a brown leather jacket and some worn and faded blue jeans. Looking beyond the man and caught sight of a motorcycle with a red and yellow paint scheme. It was an older, classic looking vehicle, but it was long giving it a sleek image. He looked at him once again. He notice the odd way his hair was styled. It almost gave him the impression of a wolf.
"The police already investigated my son's disappearance," finally replied Mr. Stoppable.
"I am with a private organization, who has taken an interest in the case."
"Why?"
"We want to help John," his ruff voice suddenly carried a note of concern. "We want to figure out what happened and find your son."
"The police don't seem to believe that they will find him alive."
"Do you believe he's dead?"
Jonathan looked at the man before him. He stared at his eyes, trying to see beyond the hardened and focused gaze. It was a difficult task, but he found something, a sign of compassion buried underneath the harden exterior. He lowered his head and answered, "I believe my son is still alive, somewhere. He will return home, just like he always does. He's just on another mission."
The man laid a hand on Mr. Stoppable's shoulder and looked him in the eyes, "We will find him, I promise."
John Stoppable gave a lighthearted smile to the man before allowing him into his home.
"Where's the boy's room?"
"Up the stairs. The police tape is still over the door." The man nodded and head for the stairs. "Uhm, sir…"
"The name's Logan," he turned his head far enough so that he could Mr. Stoppable out the corner of his eye
"Logan, my son is the most important thing in my life. I will do anything to get him back."
"Pray."
"What?"
"Pray for your son Mr. Stoppable. That's all you can do now."
"I will."
Logan gave a reassuring smile before proceeding up the stairs to the upper level of the house.
"Pray?" questioned a voice from a radio earpiece embedded into Logan's ear.
"It helps sometimes," replied Logan.
"You put up a good show."
"I meant every word of it, Storm."
"Hopefully we can from the boy before he attacks again."
"Leave that up to me." Logan finally reached Ron's room. He looked past the police tape and gazed at the destruction.
"We don't want to hurt him."
"He might not give us much of a choice."
"And that worries me."
"I can take it."
"That's not what I'm worried about."
"Beep Beep-beep Beep!" Went off the Kimmunicator in Kim's bedroom.
"What's the sitch, Wade," replied Kim to her young technical genius. The expression on Kim's face spoke volumes. It was clear that she was sad and upset with attacks; still she managed to put up a smile.
"Are you ok, Kim," asked Wade? The happy front Kim was putting up failed miserably. Anyone that isn't blind could blatantly see how depress Kim was.
"I'm fine Wade. What do you got?"
"Well, I've been looking over the police reports on the attacks, and… Are you sure you're ok?"
"I'm fine, Wade."
"I was ten, two years ago Kim. I'm older and a bit wiser, and I can tell when something is up. And you look like you went ten rounds with Shego."
That took Kim by surprise. For as long as she known Wade he was always ten, it didn't even dawn to her that he was actually growing up like everyone else. As far as she was concerned, Wade would always be a ten-year-old genius. Of course, Wade being older meant that the tweebs were older too; they were roughly the same age. She digressed, "I'll be alright Wade. So what do you got?"
"As I was saying, I've been looking over the police reports, and from what I can tell we're are dealing with a genetically engineered creature. Eyewitnesses say it looked like some big ape, but it had a head of a tigers. Also evidence from the scene suggests that it also has claws like a tiger."
"So we are dealing with an engineered killing machine."
"Right. Obviously the first suspect responsible for this is…"
"DNAmy."
"Right. Police and government officials interrogated her thoroughly. It didn't take them long, and she isn't responsible."
"We knew that already."
"Right. The big question is, where did the creature come from and who created it? I have some new gear for you, check out your bag."
Kim reached over her bed, pulled up her backpack, and began rummaging through it. She pulled out a few of the known items; knock-out lip balm, laser lipstick, hairdryer grappling hook. She pulled out a large pen, a spray bottle and a metal sphere, "Ok Wade, what do we have?"
"First off, that bottle is nothing more than pepper spray."
"Kinda low tech there Wade."
"Eh, sometimes the simplest things work. Besides most animals' noses are much more sensitive than ours. Assuming that this creature has anything to do with animals it should be a good deterrent to fend it off."
"And the giant pen?"
"It launches a tracking beacon. It's coated in an adhesive that with stick to most organic substances. Oh and you better make your aim count, you'll only get one shot."
"You know I always do."
"The pen is just incase the ensnaring sphere doesn't work.
"You mean this thing," Kim held up the metal ball.
"Yah, that a prototype. Just press the button and throw it. The next thing is comes into contact with will be completely entangled by metal coils. It's designed to restrict movement, while doing little harm to the intended victim."
Kim stared aimlessly at the sphere," You know if Ron were here he probably would have set this off on himself."
Wade looked at Kim, her happy front was gone and her true feeling radiated out like the rising morning sun, blinding anyone unlucky to looking straight at it. "Kim, you've been on mission more dangerous than this, but it the first mission that has ever hit this close to home. You can get through this. You will win and you will move on. I think Ron would have wanted that." Wade sighed as he watched a great hero's emotion poured out. It was difficult to watch. "If you can't catch it Kim maybe you get a DNA sample. At least then we might figure out what we're up against."
Kim didn't look at Wade but she nodded slightly, message received. Wade signed off leaving Kim some privacy to cope with her feelings.
Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Jim and Tim both promptly answered it.
"Hi Monique," greeted Jim.
"What's up," added Tim.
"Hi Jim, hi Tim," replied Monique. "Just checking up on Kim. Is she here?"
"She's in her room."
"Been up there all morning."
"She hasn't even come down for breakfast."
"Mom was really mad when she didn't come down."
"Ok," chuckled Monique, "I don't need a life story." There was an awkward moment of silence between the three, before Monique spoke up again, "Can I come in?"
"Oh yah, sorry," the boys said in unison, before stepping out of the way.
Monique entered the home and made her way to Kim's room. She knocked once, "Kim, its Monique. Can I come in?" There was no answer.
She was about to let herself in when the door swung open. It didn't open far, just enough for someone to peek in. She saw Kim huddled over her knees on her bed. Before she did anything else, she heard some chatter from the floor. Monique looked down to find the pink wonder, "Rufus." He chatted away at her but she couldn't understand what he was saying. She picked up the hairless pet and walked in.
"I didn't say you could come in," said Kim coldly.
"Don't be moody," replied Monique, "It's not the end of the world."
"Ron is gone, Monique. He's not coming back, and I, I can't," Monique could see the tears swelling up in Kim's eyes. "I can't say I'm sorry."
Monique went over to Kim and clasped her shoulders. She held them tight trying to comfort her friend, "There's still a chance they might be alive, Kim."
"You didn't see what that thing did to his room. Everything was destroyed, broken up. Ron, he…"
"There is hope Kim, you just have to believe."
"I want to."
Rufus suddenly came up to the two girls a held up a piece a paper to them. There were two doodles on it; one looked like a monster, while the other gave a resemblance of Ron. Between the drawings was an arrow pointing from the monster to Ron.
"Rufus this is not the time for games," scolded Monique. The mole rat dejectedly lowered his head and the paper and walked off.
Just than another knock came at the door. "Open up Possible," came the unmistakable voice of Bonnie.
"What's she doing here," asked Monique. Kim and Monique gave questionable glances to each other.
"I don't have all day," barked Bonnie knocking on the door again.
"I'll take care of it," said Monique before leaving to answer the door. The door opened and there was Bonnie in her cheerleader uniform. Her hip swung out to one side with a hand place on it, her 'I am above the world' pose. "Look Bonnie, Kim's going through a tough time right now. She doesn't need your gripe right now."
"I don't need to come to her house to tell I'm better," snapped Bonnie.
"Then why are you here?"
"I've come to ask Kim to join the squad at the game, but if she's too glum to come…"
"Barkin suspended her, or have you forgotten."
"I didn't forget," replied Bonnie with a sinister smile. "But the squad wants her back, and I need her to make me look good out there."
"Does everything have to be about you?"
"Look, this isn't about me. We lost two people last night. Everyone's scared of depressed about it, or both. There is a game today and it will mean nothing if no one is there to enjoy it. The players can only do so much that's why they have cheerleaders. As cheer squad captain, it is my job to make sure everyone is upbeat and cheery. In order to do that I need every able body out there doing their best, that includes Possible." There was a moment of silence as Bonnie gave a cold hard stare toward Monique, but Monique looked almost confused. "You honestly don't believe that I or anyone for that matter can be that cold hearted. Look, Ron was a loser, and a jerk as of last night, but he didn't deserve what that thing did to him last night. No one does."
"Wow," said Monique with her expression opened up.
"What?"
"In a weird way that's like a compliment coming form you."
Bonnie felt insulted by that remark but continued on with her proposal, "Look, if Kim's not interested…"
"I'll come," said Kim drawing the attention of the other girls to her.
"Kim, are you sure," asked Monique?
Kim looked up at them and smiled, "Bonnie's right, people need to get away from their problems so that they can relax. I know I do. I can't feel sorry for the rest of my life. It's just…"
"Well, you better hurry up," interrupted Bonnie, "The game starts in thirty minutes."
Bonnie left leaving Monique staring at Kim. Kim fighting to hold back the tears.
"Kim," called out Monique.
"It's just hard to think he's gone after everything we've been through. Now I'll never get the chance to say I'm sorry…"
"Kim…"
"… to say I'm sorry for everything I've done. Not for what happened at practice, for putting him in danger with every mission we've been on."
"Kim…"
Kim looked up at her friend with a smile and began wiping the tears away. The happy face Kim put was a crude mask. Her sadness still shown in volumes, "If you would excuse me I have to get ready for a game."
Ron suddenly threw himself from his sleep. He gasped for air trying to calm down. The nightmares he had were vivid. They weren't like any other nightmare he's had before, nothing to do with bugs, monkeys, or mechanical horses. He wasn't the victim of the nightmare, he was the nightmare. An aggressor, attacker that coldly sought out a victim, waiting for the right time to… pounce.
His victim would cry out for help, pleading for his life, but it wouldn't stop until all debt was repaid. What debt? Debt for all the humiliation that was endured. That debt was paid in full within a few short moments, but it wouldn't stop.
"Aren't you cold there son," came a voice that was accompanied by a hand on Ron's shoulder.
Ron snapped out of his revisit of his nightmare. He just now noticed how cold it was and brought his arms up to warm himself. He soon discovered that he wasn't wearing over his chest. He was bare from the waist up except for the reminiscence of a black sleeve that hung off his left wrist. He still had his cargo pants, a relief for him, but they were torn up just below the knee. His feet were bare as well, covered in dirt and grim.
Ron looked up from his sitting position to find an elderly black man. He had a humble face and light smile that looked down upon him. He was old, his wiry hair and whiskers bared enough white hairs to give some indication of his age. It looked like he was wearing several layers of clothing. A green plaid cotton shit was all Ron could see under the thick tattered overcoat. He also had a pair of simple slacks on, but tears in the knees revealed another article underneath, much thicker than the slacks. Finally, Ron noticed the knitted gloves that protected the man's hands from the cold.
"What's you name son," asked the man.
Ron couldn't answer the question right away. He somewhat confused. Where was he? What happened? Who was this man? Why was he here and not at home?
"Are you alright?" asked the old man.
"I, I don't know. Where am I?" replied Ron still trying to make sense of his situation.
The man huffed once and smiled, "You haven't been homeless for long, have you?"
"I, I have a home."
"Then what are you doing out here?"
"I don't know." Suddenly an image flashed in his mind. He saw his father looking at him with the fear of god in his eyes, then a sneeze. "I can't go home."
"So you're a runaway?"
"I didn't runaway," snapped the blonde.
"Well now, I'm bit confused. You have a home but you didn't runaway. What are you doing here?"
"I don't know!" Ron got to his feet and bolted off.
"Ron, wait!" called out the man as Ron took off.
He was lost, confused, and a complete stranger wouldn't stop asking him question. His feet hurt with every step he took, running over loose debris. The cold didn't help amplifying the pain. He ran and ran until he collided into an old shopping chart filled with a homeless person odd and ends, spilling it all over the ground.
"What the hell do you think you're doing," shouted and old woman.
"I, I'm sorry. I…" Ron was at a complete loss of words. What could he say what could he do.
The young blonde boy panicked looking for another escape route, he found an alley took off into it. He managed to weave his way through the pathway. He got through with little difficulty until he stumbled over a trash bag near the end. Trying to maintain his balance knocked over a in a man in a suit. His impact with the man caused him to spin out of control. Ron was only able to stop only after slamming into a passing car.
Ron practically bounced off the car after slamming into it. He felt a light sting from where his body made contacted with the vehicle, but nothing much in real pain. He was startled when the driver blows his horn and began shouting at him. He was still in a lost daze so he didn't understand what the driver was saying, but he got the notion that he wasn't too happy. Ron slowly back away back on to the sidewalk with his hands up in defense to the driver.
After the driver left Ron propped himself against something. He couldn't stand on his leg for long, too much has happened, and too many things have gone wrong. He slowly eased himself down to his knees and let his emotions run.
Ron opened his eyes and found himself staring at a newspaper. The paper itself was behind some glass, but he didn't really notice that, the front page is what really got his attention.
"Monster Strikes Middleton," he read. He didn't read the article but glanced at the photos. The first ones he saw were to the portraits of him and Jeff, an image flashed in his mind of Jeff his face bloodied, crying out in pain. He looked down and found the photo of a truck that was torn open. In his mind, he saw the truck, its cab already torn open, just before a beast like hand reached out and ripped the door out. His eyes moved over the last photo. It showed his room from just outside in the hallway. His mind rolled back replaying the destruction that he caused to his room. Then the door opened he looked and saw Kim, leaning against the doorframe in here pajamas. Ron shook his head and looked at the photo again. Sure enough, there was Kim leaning against the door from in he pj's, "Kim."
"Hey are you ok over there," came a voice.
Ron looked finding a man in casual dress sitting at a bench holding a paper. The looked at each other for a moment before a look of surprise hit the man. He did a double take between his paper and Ron.
"You're Ron?" exclaimed the man grabbing the attention of a few passerby's'. They looked at Ron and began mumbling.
Ron went into a panic, suddenly being Ron Stoppable doesn't seem to be a good thing. He got up and took off down the sidewalk away from the man at the bench. He barreled down the sidewalk trying to avoid people.
"Get off the streets," came an anonymous voice to Ron causing him to stop. "The alley, now!" He looked and saw they alley the voice pointed out. Without hesitation, he bolted into it.
"Ron, stop," came the voice again, except it came from in front of him. Ron looked ahead and saw that homeless man from before. Ron wasn't going to stop thou; instead, he pumped harder to blow past him. He was getting ready to shove past him when just passed through him, like he going through a patch of fog. It threw Ron's balance off making tumble into some trashcans.
Ron shook away the daze he got from crashing into the cans. When he looked up that homeless man was standing above him.
"Ghost!" shouted Ron as he cowered in fear.
"I'm not a ghost," chuckled the man as he reached down and grabbing Ron's wrist. "I'm very much alive and very real."
Ron struggled trying to break the man's grip on him.
"Calm down Ron. I want to help you." Ron continued to struggle. "You can't runaway for ever. You're going to have to face the truth sooner or later."
'The truth,' thought Ron, 'What truth?'
"Your friends and family are worried about you. They think you're dead."
"Dead?" question Ron looking up at the man.
A roaring chopper came to a stop not too far from the home Devon Smith. Logan removed his helmet and left it on the seat of his bike. Before taking one-step he sniffed the air, there were many odors still lingering. Among the smells was alcohol. He smiled knowing that he could probably name off most of the different drink, if not all, that were present at the party, but he was on business.
"Think they had a good time here last night," said Logan.
"I don't consider having one of my teammates nearly mauled to death a good time," replied Storm over the radio.
"Well if they didn't like they had plenty of booze to drown it away."
"They're high school students."
"Since does that stop them from doing what they want? Come on Storm, we live with a pack of them."
"But none of them drink." Logan didn't reply, he was already at the scene where the truck use to be, thou he did smile to himself. The truck was long gone by now, towed away to be stored for evidence.
He sniffed the air again. He managed to get a hold of an array for scents, too many for him to pick out a specific one. He grunted cursing under his breath. This was the same problem he had at the boy's room. Too many people came in leaving their distinctive scent behind overlapping the scent he was looking for.
"No go here," replied Logan over the radio. "Too many damn people were walking all over the place."
"What are you going to do now?"
"Keep look'n."
At this point, Logan noticed a lot of greenery across the road. He walked over to the vegetation and began sniffing around.
"Logan," called Storm. Logan didn't respond, he was getting something. "Logan."
Logan found himself at a tree. There was a heavy scent around it. He looked up at the direction where the truck would have been. There were a lot bushes in the way, plenty of cover. "He was waiting."
"There's been a sighting. Someone's seen Ron Stoppable."
"Where?"
"Not far, I'll give you directions."