Chapter Thirteen
Kim lies asleep on top of her bed in her darken bedroom. She has changed into her teal long sleeve shirt, black jeans, and black sneakers before disconnecting her phone. She just wants to be alone. She has not felt alone for quite sometime, at least for enough time to gather her thoughts and really come to grips with what happened to her the night before.
Suddenly, her kimmunicator beeps. She hesitates for a moment before picking it up and answering it.
"Hey, Wade," she answers as she sits up and turns on the lamp on her lampstand.
"Hey, Kim," Wade says with a smile, "I just wanted to see how you were doing." He noticed her slightly standoffish demeanor. "Is this a bad time?"
"Wade," Kim says, "don't take this the wrong way but…"
"Say no more. I understand." He shoots her a comforting smile. "You've been through a lot. You need some time by yourself."
"Thanks, Wade," Kim says offering a weak smile back.
She ends their transmission with the press of a button and places the kimmunicator on top of the nightstand next to her before turning off her lamp and lying back down onto her bed. Staring up at the ceiling, she reaches for her panderoo sitting beside her and hugs it close to her chest.
Why? Why me? Is it because I'm a hero or something more? Could it be revenge like Ron suggested? I've busted so many bad guys besides my regular foes that maybe one took it very personally or someone associated with them took it a little harsh. But he had me. Why no grand revelation about why he did it or who he is? No. This can't be about revenge. Then what? Does he want to just make a name for himself? Take me down, show to all the villains he did it, and bang, instant villain fame.
She turns on her side, still hugging her plush little friend to her chest, and closes her eyes from unknown exhaustion.
Or can it be that he wants to prove something to himself or to someone else, not caring for fame but some twisted sense of accomplishment? Whatever. It doesn't matter… at least not right now.
She hugs her panderoo tighter.
I just want to move on and forget about this.
She slowly drifts to sleep.
Outside, in the early evening, a navy blue sedan pulls up a few houses away from the Possible residence.
"How does it look?" asks the driver to his companion sitting in the passenger's seat.
"Quiet," answers the companion as he stares at a small screen inside his black hand-held monitor. It shows an overhead view of the Possible house. After a few silent moments, the companion turns to his partner. "Do you really think he'll show up? I mean this soon."
"You heard Dr. Director," the driver says still facing forward, "no body was found at the site, which means he's still out there."
"If he's still after Possible, then shouldn't we have more agents around?"
"It might cause some suspicion. This is our best… second… chance to get this creep. You know what he did to Susan, Charlie, and Noah. This guy's got to be stopped and put away."
"Haven't we tried this before? I mean the whole using Possible as bait thing. The last time we did… not that successfully."
"Last time we weren't in position. This time we are. Anything seems out of the ordinary, we call HQ and this place will be swarmed in minutes. Besides, HQ has the satellites honed in on this neighborhood. If we miss something, they'll sure to catch it. We'll get this…"
A gentle tapping close to his ear interrupts the driver. He turns to his left to see a dark haired man smiling back at him through the automatic windows, which he rolls down.
"Hi," the man cordially says offering his hand, which the driver accepts hesitantly, "I'm Norm, from a few houses down, and I couldn't help but notice you boys sitting in your car for a while." Norm places his hands in his duster pockets. "Just wanted to know what's up."
The driver turns to his companion. Both exchange perplexed looks before the driver turns back to the man. "We've only been parked here for a few minutes. We're just waiting for a friend who lives here." He points to the nearest house.
"Hmmm," replies Norm. He slowly pulls out something in his pocket. "Really? I just thought you two were GJ agents on a pathetic stakeout in a futile attempt to capture the Artist." He throws a small circular, metallic object in the sedan. "My mistake."
Instantly, a blue gas explodes out of the device choking the two men. They cough and gag painfully for a few minutes before falling forward in their seats. The man stares at their unconscious forms and shakes his head, "You guys might as well be holding signs reading 'We're GJ agents. Come and incapacitate us please.'"
He reaches into his pant pocket and pulls out a small remote. Pressing a button, his white van instantly materializes a few feet behind the sedan. He climbs inside and reaches over to his laptop computer sitting on the passenger side of the seat. A small, portable satellite dish, attached to the laptop, rests on top of the dashboard. Opening the laptop, an image of the Possible residence from overhead fills its screen.
Have to make this trip quick, no way to know how long it will take GJ to figure out that I've tapped into their satellite frequency and they're watching a feedback loop of images taken twenty minutes ago or the fact that their two agents' lights are out. Whichever one comes first. Either way I have to hurry.
He inserts the key into the ignition and starts the van. "I just love pressure," he softly exclaims sarcastically to himself as he drives toward the Possible house.
"Honey, I'm concerned about Kim?" Mrs. Possible says to her husband as they and their twin sons, Jim and Tim, gather at the dinner table. "She's been in her room all day."
"Kimmie's been through something horrible. Maybe, we should give her some space before we push her to talk." says Mr. Possible.
"I'm also worried about Ron. He hasn't been back yet. I hope his parents weren't too hard on him."
"They know about the risk involved in Kim's missions. Normally, if Kimmie wasn't held hostage by some mad man, I would be glad Ron's not here."
"What!" Mrs. Possible almost shouts in shock at what her husband has just said. "I thought you got over your issues about Ron."
"Oh, I have come to grips that he's a boy… who's dating my little girl. I trust him with her… most of the time. You know come to think of it, they do spend…" He stops as he sees the unpleasant look his wife throws at him. The boys just stare at him. "Ah… what I meant was that now he and Kimmie have deepen their friendship, he just spends a lot of his time over here… a lot… as in everyday."
"As opposed to when they weren't exchanging cooties," Jim chimes in.
"Jim, there will be no talk of cooties at the dinner table," Mr. Possible chides him. "And good point."
"I'm going to see if she wants to come down for dinner," Mrs. Possible tells her boys. She gets up and exits the dinning room. She climbs the stairs to the second floor and walks toward the few stairs leading to Kim's bedroom in the attic.
Upon entering Kim's darken, moon lit bedroom, she sees her daughter's sleeping form lying on top of the bed. Mrs. Possible silently approaches the bed. She can barely hear Kim's gentle breathing. Mrs. Possible reaches over and softly places her hand on Kim's shoulder.
"Kim," she says as she gently rocks her daughter's sleeping form awake. "Kim?"
Suddenly, she feels a hand quickly grab her wrist, applying a painful wristlock. Mrs. Possible falls forward on the edge of the bed with a slight grimace of pain. The light on the nightstand near Kim's bed turns on. "Mom?" Kim exclaims in shock and immediately releases her mother's wrist. "Are you all right?" Kim asks with concern and guilt. "I'm so sorry I…"
"It's all right Kim," Mrs. Possible says comforting her daughter as she rubs her recently released wrist. The pain subsides and soon dissipates. Mrs. Possible sits down on Kim's bed and faces Kim, who sits Indian style while hugging her panderoo. Mrs. Possible reaches over to Kim's right hand and places it in hers.
Their eyes meet. Kim's eyes tell of an immense yearning to divulge something. Mrs. Possible's eyes coax her daughter to let it out. Within seconds, Kim eyes tear up releasing what she has been pent up. Her mother immediately embraces her in a hug, sandwiching panderoo between them. Mrs. Possible rubs circles on Kim's back with her hand while coaxing her to continue releasing what needs to be released. "Shhhh," Mrs. Possible says softly and soothingly into her daughter's ear. "It's all right, baby. It's all right." She gently kisses Kim's temple as her daughter continues to cry.
"Can we eat now?" the boys whine in unison.
"Not until your mother and or sister come back," Mr. Possible tells them. Have to preoccupy them. "So, what did you boys do today?"
"We made some modifications to the Jimminator. This time it'll stay in the air… before exploding," Jim says to his father.
"Yeah," agrees Tim, "except it's the Timminator."
"As if," replies Jim.
"So if," shoots back Tim.
"So if? What does that even mean?"
"It means… it's called the Timminator okay."
Mr. Possible smiles. That did it. Suddenly, the door bell rings. "I'll get it," Mr. Possible says to no one in particular. He leaves the dinning room and his arguing boys and heads for the front door. Opening it, he finds a pleasant face staring right at him. "Hello. May I help you?"
"Yes," says the dark haired man wearing a black duster. "I was wondering if I could use your phone to call in a tow truck." He steps aside in order for Mr. Possible to clearly see a white van parked outside. Its hood is up and a small amount of smoke shoots up from the engine. The man turns back to Mr. Possible.
"Sure," Mr. Possible says stepping aside and allowing the man to come in. He closes the front door while the man places his right hand in his duster pocket. "The phone's right there and the phonebook is…" He pauses pensively for a second.
"Thanks," the man says turning to Mr. Possible. "You are so kind."
"Oh, don't think anything of it," Mr. Possible says with a wave. "If you have the power to help someone, then help them."
The man sighs almost regretfully. "Actually, I almost feel guilty," the man says.
"Guilty of what?" asks a perplexed Mr. Possible.
"About this," the man says quickly pulling out a handgun tranquillizer and firing a dart into Mr. Possible's stomach.
Mr. Possible looks down at the dart protruding from his stomach. Instantly, the man places one of his hands on Mr. Possible's mouth while pinning him against the wall. Mr. Possible struggles to free himself but the tranquillizer quickly takes effect and he soon weakens and falls into unconsciousness. The man slowly lowers Mr. Possible's limp body and gently places him on the floor, being carefully not to make a sound.
He hears the boys' voices emanating from the dinning room and silently makes his way to them. He peers inside and sees the twins, who are still arguing, sitting at the dinning table. With the tranquillizer gun in hand, he quickly enters the dining room and shoots the twins in their arms.
"Ahhhh!" Jim and Tim utter in pain before slumping unconsciously in their chairs.
Kim, her eyes now red, gently pulls away from her mother, who looks back down at the entrance on the floor.
"That sounded like Jim and Tim," Mrs. Possible says. "It can be too serious. The house is still standing. Still, I'd better see what this is all about… and check if your father is all right." She looks back at Kim, who wipes her eyes with her right hand and smiles. "I'll be right back, Kim." Kim nods sniffling and Mrs. Possible leaves heading downstairs and to the dinning room.
Kim continues wiping the few remaining tears from her eyes when the kimmunicator beeps. Taking a deep breath, she reaches over, picks up the kimmunicator and answers it. "What's the sitch, Wade?"
Wade notices the evidence of Kim's recent activity plastered clearly on her face. "Sorry. Definitely the wrong time but I'm worried about Ron."
"Why? Has something happened to him?"
"I don't know. I tried calling him on his cell phone, but no answer. I figured he was probably still tired because of last night. So I tried later and…"
"No answer," Kim says as worry begins to develop within her.
"Right. So I decided to scan for his microchip and I found its signal heading straight for your house."
Kim becomes perplexed. "So he's heading for my house. I don't see the problem."
"That scan was ten minutes ago. He should be there now."
"But he's not here," Kim says as her concern continues to grow. "Wade, scan for him again."
"I did."
"Where is he?"
"Outside your house," Wade says. "He's not moving."
Kim begins to get up from her bed and head outside to check on Ron. I hope he's all right.
"Kim, wait," Wade calls out. Kim stops. "There more. I checked on the GPS satellites and there is a white van parked outside your house." Kim listens attentively. "Ron's signal is coming from inside the van."
"Nooo!" Mrs. Possible screams from below.
It immediately catches Kim's attention. "Wade," Kim says still staring in the direction of her mother's scream, "call GJ and tell them their boy is here."
"Doing it now," Wade says as he rapidly assaults his keyboard with his fingers.
"Please and thank you," Kim says in a soft, steady, and cold tone as she quietly heads out of her room and down the stairs to the second floor. She ends the transmission as she stops at the top of the main stairs and puts the kimmunicator into her pocket. She cautiously makes her way down the stairs, keeping her guard up. Quietly, she checks the living room.
Nothing.
Then she silently heads for the dinning room. Peering inside, she sees the motionless forms of her family lying on their backs on the dinning room floor. "Mom! Dad! Jim! Tim!" She quickly dashes toward them and stoops down along side each, checking to see if they're all right. They're still breathing. Thank goodness. Then, scanning her mother's body, she sees something protruding out of her mother's stomach. Reaching over, she pulls it out and brings it up to her face. A tranquillizer dart!
"Tell me," a male voice says behind her, "what do you see?"
Dropping the dart on the floor, Kim slowly stands up as she recognizes the voice that she may never forget instantly. She turns around setting her now hard, cold narrowed eyes on her recent captor for the first time.
"I'll tell you," the man says smiling, "It's me."
"You made a big mistake coming here," Kim says staring him down with those hard eyes. She balls both hands, hanging along her sides, into tight fists. "This so isn't your MO. So, what's with the change? Tired of hanging in the shadows and jumping people from behind."
"Oh no, I still like that," the man says as he walks toward the dinning table and closer to Kim. She brings her fists up and gets into a fighting stance. "I just decided to make our game a little more interesting with a more direct approach."
Instantly, he picks up a plate of food and flings it toward Kim's head. As she ducks, the man charges right at her pinning her against the wall behind her and driving his shoulder into her gut. Momentarily stunned, Kim retaliates by driving her elbow straight down on the back of his head. She quickly follows that by placing both her hands on the back of his head and pushing his face down toward her rising knee. The man stumbles backward losing his balance and falling on his back.
"You are so lucky that wasn't my mom's fine china," she says as she moves toward him.
The man slowly picks himself up and adopts a fighting stance. Now I remember why I don't go the direct approach too often.
Kim again adopts her fighting stance. "I'll give you this," she says to him, "you're not as fashion challenged as some of my other foes."
"Thanks," he says, "I try."
He quickly throws a punch, which Kim easily avoids. Kim quickly follows with an uppercut but the man side steps and she only connects with empty space. He quickly grabs her arm and wrist, pulling her toward him, and driving his knee into her gut. Air escapes her, as she again is stunned. Instantly, he grabs her head and shoulder driving the back of her head into the wall again. The impact, which creates a reasonably sized hole in the drywall, disorients her, and she stumbles forward. Not letting up, the man places one hand on her forehead and the other on her upper arm while simultaneously sweeping her legs out from underneath her and, with all his weight, drives her head down on the dinning room floor as they both crash to the floor. The impact knocks Kim out.
The man slowly pushes himself off the floor. Taking a cleansing breath, he looks down at the unconscious Kim. "You know, I thought this would have lasted longer. I'm slightly disappointed." He feels the throbbing pain of his face slowly intensifies. He gently touches his nose and a grimace of pain slowly escapes him. "Well, most of me is anyway." He stoops down next to her and delicately brushes a strand of her hair from her face. "But don't worry," he says reaching into his inside duster pocket, "we still have one more round to go."