He stirs a little against the decorative wall he's bolted to by large metal bands wrapped around his ankles and wrists. As his vision slowly clears, his surroundings come into focus.
"Where am I?" he softly asks to himself.
Scanning the large, well lit room, he sees shelves and shelves filled with various books. A large wooden table with a glossy finish sits in the middle of the room as the bodies of various books lie upon it. Two decorative chairs with elaborate red cushions stand at attention at either end of the table while a few more stand diligently throughout the room just waiting to be occupied. Two large, stained glass oval shaped windows quietly stand watch on the wall across from him as the storm clouds begin to gather behind them.
"A library?" he exclaims. "I'm imprisoned in a library!" He shifts his eyes back and forth. "Ms. Hackett? Ummm…if this is about that time with the phantom monkeys, listen…"
A loud familiar chattering to his right grabs his attention. Turning his head, he sees a naked mole rat restrained in a similar matter as he is. "Rufus!" he exclaims overjoyed to see his friend. "So, what's hanging… besides you?"
Rufus nods his head toward Ron, chattering up a storm. "Look over there."
Bewildered, Ron turns his head to the left and sees the unconscious form of Mrs. Possible next to him bound to the wall in a similar manner as he and Rufus are.
"Mrs. P!" Ron exclaims before noticing the other forms just beyond her. Straining his head, he catches glimpses of them. "Mr. P! Jim! Tim!"
Their unconscious forms offer no response. Just then the two decorative, wooden doors, with brass knobs and hinges, at the far end of the library fly open and the man in the black duster saunters in. He glides across the library's crimson carpet and in a blink of an eye, stands a few feet before Ron and Rufus smirking confidently at them. Ron just narrows his eyes at the man in some unconscious attempt to inflict some injury at him.
The man barely notices or cares. "So, sleeping buffoon finally wakes."
"Sleeping buffoon? So lame. I hope you didn't take too long to come up with that."
With a blank expression, the man replies, "If you must know, it took a while." He then takes a step toward them. "You are probably wondering why…"
"You're using us as bait to lure Kim here. The old standard bait and lure technique. Please, like I haven't been a part of this. How many does this make it, Rufus, sixteen or seventeen? I've lost count."
Pondering for a moment, Rufus replies "Hmm, twenty."
"Really?" says a shocked Ron. "That many? Are you sure because I thought…"
"A yeah… hi," interrupts the man.
"What? Oh sorry, you were starting your rant. Please continue."
"Thank you," the man replies. He pauses to look at his other captives. "You know, I think I would like to have the entire audience's participation before I really get under way."
He reaches into his inside duster pocket and pulls out an ammonia capsule. He breaks it and places it under the nose of Mrs. Possible. Instantly, she wakes up coughing because of the strong ammonia odor. The man repeats this action with the Possible men, who respond in the same matter as Mrs. Possible.
After a few moments, Mrs. Possible regains her composure and looks up to see the last face she saw before she lost consciousness. "You!" she exclaims trying to move and quickly realizing the metal bands pinning her wrist and ankles to the wall.
"Honey?" Mr. Possible calls out as his head clears. He too realizes his wrist and ankles are bound. "What's going on here?"
"My head hurts," says Jim.
"Not as much as mine," replies Tim.
Before Jim can counter his brother's reply, he realizes his predicament. Tim quickly follows. "Hey," they cry in unison.
"What do you want with us?" asks Mrs. Possible.
"Well…" He pauses as he glances at Ron, who just innocently turns his head away. "I'm using you as bait so I can continue what I started."
"And to think I let you use our phone," says an angry and hurt Mr. Possible. "Wait a minute, what do you mean continue what you started?"
The man steps toward Mr. Possible and stops inches from his face. "Breaking… your… daughter."
"You're the Artist!" exclaims Mrs. Possible.
"The Artist?" replies Jim.
"How lame is that?" asks Tim.
"Extremely," answers the man. "But I didn't come up with it."
"Suuuure," replies Jim.
"Whatever you say," says Tim. Both snicker. The man just stares at the twins with an annoyed expression.
"What have you done with Kim?" demands Mr. Possible.
"Last time I saw your daughter she was laying on your dining room floor unconscious… you know… right after I drove the back of her hard against the wall and then the floor."
"You monster!" exclaims Mrs. Possible. "Why are you doing this to her… to us?"
"First, your involvement is nothing more than a means to an end and most likely in the end will be just… collateral damage. Second, I'll wait to tell you why because I'm probably going to have to tell the same thing to Kim when she gets here… well, first she'll have to wake up then get here. Anyway, I don't really want to repeat myself. Once is enough for me. And finally… a monster? Isn't that a bit harsh?"
"Not really," remarks Ron.
"Yeah you're right, but let's switch the focus away from me and focus it on the protagonist of this story," the man says after a pausing for contemplation.
"Protagonist…" Ron ponders for a moment. "Isn't that…"
"Oh, don't even start that," interrupts the man.
"… the main character of a story," Ron finishes his sentence. The man stares slightly dumbfounded at him. "What? Is it a big shock I know some school words? Lessons accidentally stick in, you know."
"Wait," Tim calls out. "You're after Kim, right?"
"I thought that fact was obvious," answers the man. "Was it not obvious?"
"And you knocked her out," points out Jim.
"So, why did I go through this impractical, elaborate means to get to her than I could have just simply taking her when she was defenseless again?"
"Yeah," reply Jim and Tim in unison.
"After my lair imploded, I just couldn't let it end there. All the planning and the waiting, I couldn't let that go down the toilet. So I wanted to act fast. Now, normally I like to live out my college slogan, defy convention, but I decided to use the tried and true villain plan of capturing the hero's loved ones in an obvious attempt to lure the hero into a final, climatic showdown. Plus, this is more exciting then the other way."
"The other way in which you would win," says Tim in a matter of fact tone.
"Well… when you put it that way," says their captor. "But there are other ways to win."
"If you hurt my daughter, I swear…" threatens an irate Mr. Possible.
"News flash, rocket man, I already have. In fact, I brought a little audio to… liven up this party."
He reaches into his right, outside duster pocket and pulls out a tape recorder. He pushes play. Instantly, Kim's pain filled screams dance throughout the library and in their heads, shattering her loved ones hearts and unleashing an unforgiving anger at the man. Each tries to break their bonds, not to get away, but to tear apart the man who had inflicted so much on her in such a way as to make her scream relentlessly in agony, who smiles at them as they try to break their unyielding bonds, and who wants to continue to make her suffer for reasons known only to him. All soon tire themselves out, but lash out at the man in other ways.
"You're worst than a monster!" screams Mrs. Possible. "You're a… a…"
"…sick freak!" exclaims Jim.
The man pushes stop on the tape recorder. "Oh, come on. Now that's harsh. Okay, I'll give you the sick part. Can't really argue against that. But freak. It's not like I dip my French fries in my milkshake before eating them or put marshmallows on… on… hot dogs. Now that's scary."
"Not as scary as I'm going to be once I get out of these bands," growls Mr. Possible.
The man chuckles as Mr. Possible's threat only adds to his amusement. "Promises… promises… promises, Mr. Possible. Don't make them unless you can keep them. In fact, I'll promise you one thing. When Kim makes her dramatic entrance, and we all know she will, what will happen next won't be dull." He takes a few steps back, smiling at his captives and allows his words to sink in. "Now, I think I'll prepare myself for the climatic showdown between the lovely and beautiful heroine." Striding toward the two doors he used to enter the library, he stops and looks at his captives, who each throw death glares at him. Smiling, he continues walking, leaving the library and its occupants alone.
Outside, the storm clouds continue to gather. A short bluff stands proudly on top of a small peninsula sticking out onto a large C shaped lake named Colbert. It reeks with American pride and patriotism and, looking down from above, resembles an amoeba ready to engulf its food. A legion of pines and other conifers stand and watch, waiting for something to come.
High on the bluff, the darken figure of a old, brick and stone mansion stands above them and the stirring surface of Lake Colbert while its two lit, large, and oval windows looking out toward the lake resemble eyes peering straight into the ever darkening night like an expectant lover waiting for her lost love to return from a distance journey. Slashing through the lake's restless surface, a small motor boat, guided by the light from those large eyes, makes its way toward the bluff. On board, two figures clad in orange life vests sit and rock up and down as the boat crashes into the slowly growing waves. One, a middle age, man with thinning hair, sits at the back and mans the motor. He looks worriedly up at the blacken sky as the first whispers of thunder begin to tickle his ears.
Soon they would become screams.
The other passenger sits and stares up and back at those yellowish, white eyes with her green ones. Within that house wait the ones dearest to her and her present antagonist. She looks down at her kimmunicator as a strong wind gust rocks the boat a little and blows through her red hair. On the kimmunicator's screen, a small pulse continues to intensify.
Hang on guys! I'm coming!
Suddenly the kimmunicator beeps, prompting Kim, dressed in mission gear, to press the answer button. Instantly, Wade's face appears on the screen. "Go, Wade," says Kim.
"The signal from Ron's chip is coming from that house. I've used the thermal scans to confirm that there are six people and one naked mole rat in there. The majority are isolated in a large room facing the lake."
"And the minority?"
"One heat signature is, at the moment, stationary and alone in a nearby room."
"That's got to be him. Contact GJ, Wade."
"Right away Kim but they're going to be a while."
"The storm."
"Yeah, it's moving pretty fast. It might hold them up for a few minutes. You're going to be on your own for…I'll say… twenty minutes."
"Perfect."
"Kim, there's another problem. From my calculations, you won't make it to the other side of the lake and to the house before this storm hits. You would be fifty yards from shore when the storm hits. I don't think your small boat can survive this storm in the open."
"I agree," says the middle aged man, who raises his voice over the strengthening howls of the wind.
"If Mr. Shaw turns back now, Wade, would he make it back to shore before the storm hits?" Kim asks with concern.
"Yeah, he would," answers Wade.
"Good," Kim says. She turns to Mr. Shaw. "I guess this is where we part company. Thanks again, Mr. Shaw, for the lift."
"Miss. Possible, it's the least I could do after you saved me from becoming shark chum."
"No big!" She removes her lift vest and reaches down for her backpack sitting next to her. "Just make sure the next time you square off against a twenty-five foot, three ton Great White terrorizing a small coastal town, you do it in a bigger boat."
"I will," says Mr. Shaw. "Goodspeed, Miss Possible."
"Thanks," Kim says putting on her backpack.
"Same here," says Wade.
Kim smiles and nods at Wade's image before it tunes out. She stands at the boats bow and presses her belt buckle. Instantly, her backpack bursts apart as her jetpack's confined wings spread out and stretch to their designed fullness. A small robotic arm places her blue helmet on her head. Placing both hands on the jetpack's handles, she presses the ignition buttons with her thumbs, starting up the jetpack's booster rocket. Within seconds, the jetpack rockets her into the dark, night sky. Through her helmet's yellow tinted visor, she sets her sights and flight path toward the two yellowish, white oval eyes high on the bluff.
"When is Kim coming?" whines Tim.
"Yeah, I mean now would be a good time to make one of her heroic entrances," responds Jim.
"Now, boys," Mr. Possible says. "Kimmie will be here. We just have to be patient." He writhes slightly as he experiences some discomfort.
Mrs. Possible notices immediately. "Honey, what's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing dear, it's just… it's just these darn bands. My wrists and ankles are starting to chafe."
"Yeah, wrist and ankles do that when they're you know… bound," Ron says. "After the first couple of times I was captured and bound, man my wrist would not stop itching for days. Pretty soon though, I got use to it. Now my wrists can be bound for days without chafing."
Suddenly, one of the oval stain glass windows shatters with a loud crash as Kim flies through it. Glass rains onto the crimson carpeted floor.
"Finally," Jim and Tim say in unison.
Kim flies once around the library before landing near the shattered window. Rain begins to pour into the library as lightning dances across the sky. Kim removes her jetpack, which drops dully to the floor behind her. She removes her helmet and throws it aside as she rushes over to her family.
"Oh, Kim," cries Mrs. Possible.
"Nice entrance Kimmie," Mr. Possible says.
"Thanks, dad. Are you guys all right?"
"Except for some chafing, we're fine," Mr. Possible answers.
"I'll have you guys out in a few seconds," Kim says as she reaches into her pant pocket, pulling out her laser pen light.
"What's the rush?" asks a voice from the far end of the library. Everyone turns to see the man in the duster watching them from library entrance. "You just got here."
With that, the man steps into the library. Still keeping his eyes on them, he gently pushes the door closed with his foot. A loud click echoes throughout the library.