Upon opening her eyes, a blinding light from above blinds her, and she reflexively closes them again as a grimace of pain fills her countenance. She attempts to grab her slightly throbbing head with her hand, but something holds it down.
What?
She looks down and sees a leather strap wrapped around her wrist. She quickly feels a hard surface pressed against her back.
I'm lying on a metal slab!
She tries to move her legs and other arm only to find out that they too are strapped to the metal slab with leather straps. Wearing her blue sweats, and tank top with the yellow smiling face, she struggles to free herself.
"You know, it's useless to struggle," a voice from overhead says.
She stops her struggling as she quickly recognizes the voice. "You!" she exclaims with widen eyes.
"Yes me. Did you really think I was gone? I thought you were smarter than that. Then again you probably just convinced yourself that I was gone. Deep down, you knew better. You knew better then to think you were safe in your home, tucked nice and cozy in your bed, surrounded by your loved ones. Yes, you knew better."
"What do you want with me?" she yells in frustration. "Why are you doing this to me?" She continues to struggle against her constraints. Desperation starts to grow within her. I have to get out! I have to get out!
"You know the rules. I ask the questions. You answer. Now, who are you?"
"I'm not playing this game!" Something in her, something she rarely experiences in her life, begins to grow. It shoots out its tentacles from her mind's darkness and slowly wraps them around her soul. She can feel it squeezing the peace, the calm, and the hope right out of her. She feels it begin to worm its way into the void, spread throughout her being, and take a relentless, unyielding hold on her. She knows what it is. It's fear.
"Oh, Kimmie… you chose to play this game a long time ago. This is just a consequence of that choice. Now, I'll take your last comment as your answer to my question. And guess what… not the answer I was looking for."
Instantly, an intense, excruciating pain shoots throughout her entire body like rabid electricity. She does what she can only do. She screams.
"Ahhhhhh!" Kim screams as she abruptly sits up in her bed breathing heavily.
It was all a dream, the standard cliché nightmare after an intense ordeal.
With her head pulsing, she tries to calm herself but her heart continues to beat rapidly, almost on the verge of exploding in her chest. She closes her eyes and controls her breathing. Taking deep, calming breaths, her heart begins to slow down. The pulsing in her head soon fades and, after a few moments, she opens her eyes.
The light from the early afternoon sun pours in through her bedroom window, resting upon her telescope, her computer, her chest, and her bed. She stares at her window before throwing off her blanket and walking to it. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stands there and allows the sunlight to warm herself.
"Kim, are you awake?" asks her mother, who sticks her head up into Kim's bedroom door located in the floor and notices her daughter standing at her window. "Kim, are you all right?" Mrs. Possible climbs up the remaining stairs entering her daughter's bedroom and making her way to Kim. She stands beside her daughter, who seems to not have noticed her mother's presence, with a worried expression on her face. "Kim?" calls Mrs. Possible as she places her hand on Kim's shoulder. Kim, now fully aware of her mother's presence, slowly turns to her mother with a blank look. "Do you want to talk about it, Kim?"
"I'm fine," Kim replies.
"That isn't what I asked dear," Mrs. Possible says.
"What? Oh… ah… no, no I don't." She sees her mom's worried expression and offers a weak smile. "Not right now."
"Okay, Kim," says Mrs. Possible, who does not want to push her daughter. When she's ready. "Come on, lunch is ready."
"Is Ron still here?" asks Kim.
"No, he left a few minutes ago. He asked me to tell you that he will be back as soon as he can. He then remarked that it may be a while, depending on his parents' reaction. I told him not to worry. I'm sure they understand that he had other things on his mind and forgot to call them." She pauses. "Oh and he asked me to give you this." Mrs. Possible then gives her daughter a huge hug. Kim gladly reciprocates it.
After a few moments, they pull apart. "He's so sweet," remarks Kim.
"Yes, he is," confirms Mrs. Possible.
"So… lunch."
Smiling, Mrs. Possible wraps her arm around her daughter's shoulders and walks her down toward the kitchen.
"Man, Kim's parents should really replace that couch in the den," Ron says to Rufus, who's perched on Ron's shoulder, while holding his lower back as he walks home. "That lump of springs… yeah more like a rock… a hard rock… pressed against my back the entire night. If I wasn't so tired, I would have move to the more comfortable place such as the floor… or maybe the stairs."
"Poor Ron," Rufus says patting Ron's cheek.
"When we get home, I'm going to apply the heating pad for a while… like a week." Ron continues to walk home, which now is only a few minutes away. "Maybe two."
Ron soon reaches his house and quickly enters it, failing to notice the white van parked across the street.
"Mom… Dad, I'm home," Ron calls to his parents as he walks into the living room and immediately sees his parents sitting motionless on the couch. "Oh, there you are." Ron quietly approaches them and sees them peacefully sleeping. That's weird! It's one in the afternoon and Mom and Dad are asleep. Looking around, a strange circular, metallic object on the coffee table catches his attention. He reaches over to and brings it up so that he and Rufus can examine it more closely. "What do you think this is?"
"It's a gas dispersion device," says a voice behind Ron.
"Really," Ron remarks, "I would have guessed it was some sort of funky looking paper weight…" Ron stops and, realizing he is not alone, turns around to see a dark haired man in a long sleeve red polo shirt, black pants, black sports boots, and a black duster. The man leans against the wall eating some pudding. "Who are you?" Ron demands. "And is that my pudding?"
The man takes one last spoonful of pudding before nonchalantly tossing the spoon and empty pudding cup over his shoulder as he takes a step toward Ron and Rufus. "Oh, I think you know who I am. And yes that was your pudding."
"What did you do to my parents?"
"Well, in regards to your parents, who are very nice by the way, you can just call me the sandman and that device you're holding was my treat for them. But don't worry I have a treat for you too."
"Normally, I would be overjoyed to know I was getting a treat but in this case…" Ron says to the man as he moves slowly away from the couch to a more spacious area of the living room, "I'll have to decline but thanks any way."
The man in the duster locks his eyes with Ron's as he matches Ron's movements, keeping the distance between them constant. "Oh I think you'll like this treat. It involves you getting a front row seat as I continue what I started last night."
"So you're the Artist!" Ron exclaims. "I imagined you being taller."
"Hey at least I'm taller than… wait… what? The Artist? That's what GJ so cleverly calls me."
"Ah, hello," Ron says as he readies himself for anything. "Reality check coming. Do you really think you can beat KP? You are so done for. She's so going to beat you. That is, if there is anything left of you when I'm done." Ron then assumes a fighting stance.
"Oooo, I'm shaking in my boots here." The man feigns fear. "And regarding KP, I'm not going to beat her," the man says reaching into his duster pocket, "I'm going to break her." Instantly he pulls out his small hand tranquillizer gun and aims it at Ron. "Now, I know this is going to be hard for you but don't do anything stupid. Otherwise, regrettable things will ensue."
Ron turns to Rufus perched on his shoulder and locks eyes with him for a few seconds before turning his attention back to the man in the duster. He steals a glance at his incapacitated parents. Can't do anything without putting my parents at risk here. "All right," Ron says as he slowly raises his hands in surrender. Rufus reluctantly follows suit. Both throw angry, dirty looks at the man.
"If looks could kill," the man says throwing a mischievous grin back at them. "But they don't." He reaches into another of his duster's pocket and pulls out a small shackle with a short metal chain attached to it. "Here, for your little buddy there," the man says tossing the shackle toward Ron.
Ron stares at the shackle for a few moments before he gently grabs Rufus off his shoulder and reluctantly places him into the shackle, locking him in. "Sorry, buddy"
"It's okay," Rufus reassures him.
"Now, place him slowly on the floor," orders the man still aiming the tranquillizer gun at Ron. Ron does as ordered before slowly returning to his previous position of surrender. The man smiles. "I must confess. I didn't really have a plan to deal with the scenario of you calling my bluff about regrettable things happening if you tried to be a hero."
"Then what did you plan?" asks a slightly perplexed Ron.
"This," says the man before pulling the trigger.
Instantly, Ron feels a sharp pain in his stomach. Looking down he sees a small embedded dart. He pulls it out just before the dizziness starts. He quickly loses his balance as his legs weaken and shortly buckle underneath him. On his knees, he looks at the man, now just a blur to him, before his eyelids close and he falls forward, hitting the floor with his chin.
Rufus, because of the shackle engulfing him, can only watch in horror at the ensuing events. A concerned and panic look crosses his face, but relief quickly replaces it as he sees Ron still breathing. The man walks quietly to Rufus, stoops down, and grabs the attached chain roughly, yanking Rufus off his feet. The man stares at Ron's motionless form before looking at Rufus, who is suspended in mid air and throws an angry look at the man. The man responds with a smirk before placing his finger on Rufus and spinning him.
"Whoa," Rufus exclaims as he spins for a short time before the man grabs him gently, stopping his momentum. A dizzy, sick look develops on Rufus as he tries not to throw up.
Looking directly at Rufus, the man says with satisfaction, "Well, my little friend, one down… well actually two if I count you." A sinister smile forms on his face. "A couple more guests to round up and then theparty can begin."