Double Entendre
Part One: Summer's End
Author's Notes: This story is already finished and published on AO3, so there will be no alterations as regards pairings or plot-those things are set in neutronium and will not be changed. I am going back through the parts published on AO3 and editing to fix grammatical errors and the inevitable continuity errors that accompany a story of over 300,000 words-yep, you read right-this story is over 300,000 words long. The good news is that it IS complete-so you will see it all posted here in fairly short order. That being said, I admit to more than a little curiosity to see how it is received here as in this alternate universe which mixes in comedy, drama, adventure, suspense, romance, and more than a little innuendo, as well as other things that you will see as the story progresses. There's a lot of strong language-as in use of F and S bombs by many of the characters, sexual situations, and other adult elements such as drinking and smoking. In other words, this story is most definitely NOT for the kiddies. I hope you enjoy this mammoth project of mine, but I do understand if it's not your cup of Possible tea.
Moscow—the Iranian Embassy near the Kremlin
Crouching under the cover of a ventilation shaft, a lithe, blonde-haired female figure wearing a black matte skin-tight cat suit muttered softly to herself as she put on the matching hood that completely covered her head and then glanced down at her watch. Her lips turned up in a slight smile as she witnessed two figures descending from a rope ladder from a hovercar on to the roof of the building not too far from her, she muttered in a low posh-English accented voice as she switched the display on her watch to stopwatch mode, "On the clock."
Opening the carry bag next to her, she took out an electronic device. Her lips inside the mask turning up into a sly grin, the woman next took out another device and, opening it, pressed a button. Checking the first device again and nodding her head in satisfaction, she then silently and smoothly pried open the cover. Then, after carefully setting her grapple, she dropped a rope down. "Ten minutes." She whispered as she descended down the rope into the building.
Dropping to the floor without making a sound, the cat-burglar moved gracefully down the carpeted hallway, pausing as she reached an intersection. Taking out an aerosol can, she sprayed the space ahead, her lips again turning up in a sly grin as the crisscross of laser beams. Taking a deep breath, she smoothly slipped past the obstacle without breaking the beams. Coming to a stop immediately after reaching the other side, she spied a concealed access panel on the right wall. "Careful girl…" She whispered as her electronic device detected the motion sensor just half a meter from her. "Move the wrong way and if we're lucky, we're on our way to Lubyanka Prison. If unlucky, then in a diplomatic pouch to Iran." Opening the access panel and taking out a set of fine tools, she quipped in a whisper, "I think I'd prefer Lubyanka."
Smirking as she spied the red and black wires, the second-story artist joked under her breath, "The old cliché: Do I cut the red wire or the black wire." Her smirk becoming a wide smile as she spotted her real objective, the thief snapped a green wire with her cutters. Checking her device, she nodded her head in satisfaction, "Motion sensors down." Glancing down at her watch, her lips turned down in a frown. "Seven minutes. Gotta shake a leg." Moving gracefully down the corridor, the burglar turned left at a T-section after taking a moment to admire the original Sirak Melkonian painting hanging on the wall. "Down girl." She chided herself, "No time for shopping."
Reluctantly passing over the rare piece of art, the cat-burglar paused as she reached a corner. Taking out a small periscope, the thief peered through it, spying two guards standing watch at the door, both men in black business suits with white shirts and ties. Body armor under the shirts I'll wager. Better go with the knockout gas. Taking out what looked like a flare gun from her bag, the burglar loaded a small yellow cartridge into it and striking quickly, fired it, the cartridge landing in between the two guards, exploded in a cloud of green smoke. Waiting patiently as the two men choked briefly, the thief nodded her head in satisfaction as she heard two thuds. Taking her periscope out again, she looked, a sly grin appearing on her masked face as she saw the two unconscious men slumped down on the floor.
Moving quickly, she grabbed a keycard from each of the two guards and, taking out a reaching aid slid the two cards through their slots on either side of the door simultaneously. Hearing the door lock click open, the thief opened the door. Spotting her prize in a display case on a pedestal in the center of the room. Taking out her aerosol can from her bag, she sprayed the area in front of her, revealing a crisscrossing network of laser beams. "Damn…this is going to be tricky." She muttered as she fixed a cartridge to her air gun and fired, nodding her head in satisfaction as the spike hit home on the wall and attached it to a wire that was affixed to a spike that she had shot at the opposite wall. Working quickly, she rigged a harness and, after testing the wire to be sure that it could hold her weight, pulled herself until she hovered above the glass display. "Hello, Lovely." She purred as she looked fondly on the blood-red ruby in the case. Taking out a cutter, she smoothly cut a circular opening into the case. Then, taking a duplicate of the jewel in the case, she dropped that down using an extended arm while at the same time extending another reaching grip into the case. "Careful…careful…this has to be simultaneous." She murmured as she took a deep breath. "Three…two…one…now." Moving quickly, she grappled and pulled up the gem while at the same time setting its substitute in its place. Breathing again, she quickly retrieved the gem, slipping it into her handbag. Glancing down at her watch, she gritted her teeth, "Three minutes…gotta move."
As she slid back on the wire, misfortune, in the form of a slipping spike, struck, dropping her to the floor and immediately setting off the alarm. "Fuck!" She growled as an iron portcullis dropped in the doorway blocking her exit while at the same time a secondary door slid shut, sealing her in. She then heard the hissing of gas. Glancing down at the device in her hand, she gritted her teeth. "Remifentinal. Filter won't keep it out long. Gotta move fast. Grabbing blocks of C-4 and thermite from her bag, she quickly set the explosives on one of the iron-barred windows. Taking cover, she heard the sound of shouts and boots growing louder as she pushed the button on the detonator, setting off the plastic explosive with a loud boom. Dashing quickly, her heart racing as adrenaline coursed through her system, she leaped out the window just as the door opened. Doing a tuck and roll as she hit the ground, the thief wasted no time zigzagging into the shadows as the sound of sirens pierced the air.
Ducking into a dark alley, the burglar quickly stripped out of her catsuit and slipped on a green miniskirt. Quickly putting on earrings and a necklace, she slung her carry bag over her shoulder and strode out on to the street where police cars were already on scene in front of the embassy. Spying a tour group, she unobtrusively joined it, taking out her cellphone as she did so, imitating the other tourists taking pictures of the lit up Kremlin. Taking a seat on the bus, the blonde smiled at the attractive young man sitting next to her as she texted a quick message: On my way home. Love you, Uncle and tell Mother I haven't forgotten her souvenir.
Smirking as the answering text, Be a good girl and come straight home. Mother wants to see your souvenir.
Middleton
Shaking her head in bemused wonder as her best friend, Ron Stoppable, wolfed down yet another diablo taco, Kim Possible let out a breath of air, "How many does this make, Ron?"
"NomNomNomNomNomNom…Huh? Whatcha say, KP?" The freckle-faced blond haired young teen replied, his mouth still full as he dumped another packet of diablo sauce on yet another taco while his naked mole rat companion emerged from the bag with a nacho chip in hand, munching on it.
"I said how many does this make for you?" Kim repeated with a laugh.
"Ummm…six…no…" He said as he wolfed down yet another taco, "Seven."
"You know school starts soon." Kim said as she applied a packet of mild sauce to her taco salad before taking a sip of soda.
"Don't remind me." Ron said in a glum voice as he chugged down his soda. "I'm so not looking forward to orientation in a couple of weeks."
"Oh, it won't be so bad." Kim consoled. "Don't forget, after orientation, we're going to the mall. Club Banana's having a back to school sale and I want to get there before Bonnie snatches that outfit I've been eyeing."
"And then we're going to JP Bearymore's!" Ron exclaimed in glee as his redheaded friend, lowering her head, covered her face with her palm.
"I was hoping you'd have forgotten." Kim muttered as she dipped her chip in a bowl of salsa and nibbled on it.
"Huh? What did you say, Kim?" Ron queried as he drenched his nachos with diablo cheese sauce before diving into it with very happy—and hungry—Rufus.
"I better check in with Wade." Kim answered back, quickly recovering from her earlier slipup as she reached into her purse and took out her Kimmunicator.
"Good idea, KP." Ron agreed, "It's been what…a month…since the last mission."
"Yeah." Kim nodded her head, her face not concealing her disappointment at the lack of action, "At least." Her lips turning up in a grin at the face of the dark-skinned boy on her screen, the teenage hero almost begged, "What's the sitch, Wade? Got us anything?"
"Sorry, Kim" The Team Possible techie shook his head, "All's quiet."
Heaving a dejected sigh, the redhead responded, "Thanks, Wade. Keep us posted."
"Will do, Kim. Take it easy."
"Cheer up, KP!" Ron exclaimed as he and his mole rat companion finished off the last of the nachos. "You know the bad guys are probably all on vacation too. Give it time, we'll be neck deep in supervillains and mad scientists before you know it."
Hedonism Resort—Aruba
Shego, wearing a skimpy white with green trim bikini and white sunglasses, luxuriated on her beach towel, idly listening to the waves lapping on to the shore as she sipped her tropical sunrise drink. "This is nice, but it's starting to get a little boring." The supervillainess remarked to no one in particular as her eyes caught sight of a pod of dolphins frolicking in the shallows. "I need to find something to spice things up." She said as she picked up her tablet and checked her email. Finding an encrypted message with the header, Need Qualified Assistant, the raven-haired villain after running it through a virus checker that she had specially installed on all her electronic devices, opened it and read the message:
Ms. Go: I am in need of someone with your unique skills and abilities to aid me in my quest for world domination. Should you accept this offer of employment, the pay and benefits will be most rewarding, I assure you. If you are willing to accept this offer of employment, please reply to this email and we will meet to discuss terms of employment.
Sincerely, Dr. Drakken.
Chuckling, Shego, after weighing her options, typed her acceptance and pressed send. "This might be worth a few laughs if nothing else." She took another sip of her drink as her eyes fell on a well-muscled young man toting a surfboard, "One more fling before going back to work."
Drakken's Secret Mountain Lair
Dr. Drakken shook his head as he gazed down at the blueprints lying on his desk. "There is no way I can get in there, get the production line, and get out without an adequate assistant." He moaned as he took a sip of his Coco-Moo. Hearing the beep coming from his tablet, the blue-skinned mad scientist checked his email. As he read the encrypted message that had just come in, his lips turned up in a wide grin, "She accepted! The world is in my grasp!"
Essex Countryside, United Kingdom
The charming blonde pulled her Alfa Romeo Spyder convertible into the driveway of a lovely English cottage. Exiting the car, she made her way to the door and knocked. After only a minute or so, the door opened to reveal a dapperly dressed elderly gentleman with a twinkle in his eyes and broad grin on his face.
"Tar-Ra-Ra-Boom-De-Ay!" He exclaimed in a precise public-school English accent as he ushered the blonde girl into his home.
Chuckling, the blonde replied in her posh accented lyrical voice, "Uncle John!" Tara grinned widely as she hugged the older man. "Wasn't that the first thing you said to Grandmama?"
"Yes." The old man responded fondly as both of their eyes fell on a picture on the wall of a young, attractive woman wearing a miniskirt and mod hat standing in front of an antique Aston-Martin convertible. Underneath the photo was a caption: Tara King, 1969 "I believe it was."
Breaking from her embrace, Tara inquired as she glanced at the bowler hat hanging on the coatrack and umbrella on the floor beside it, "So how are Grandmama and Auntie Emma?"
"Fine…Fine. They give you their love." John Steed replied as the pair entered the parlor. Walking to the bar as his niece, fixing a Sobranie Black Russian cigarette to her cigarette holder sat down on a plush chair, the retired spy fixed two drinks. Approaching Tara, he handed one of the drinks to her, then fished in his pocket for a lighter. "As I recall, you prefer gin and tonic." He said as he lit the blonde woman's cigarette.
"Thanks, Uncle." Tara grinned as she first took a drag from her cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke before sipping her drink. "Just how I like it." Reaching into her purse, she pulled out an object wrapped in velvet cloth. "Mother's souvenir." She said as she handed the package to her uncle.
"Ah…" Steed's eyes lit up as he unfolded the velvet to reveal the ruby within it. "The Eye of Xerxes. And to think…the Iranians were going to sell this lovely gem to the Russian mafia for some plutonium they stole from the Ukrainians who in turn stole it from the Kazakhs. Dreadfully dangerous business—this trade in nuclear materials."
"How much plutonium are we talking about?" Tara asked as she took another drag from her cigarette, following it up with a sip from her drink.
"Enough to make several nuclear warheads." Steed responded in a grim voice. "Now they'll have to find some other way to get their plutonium. This won't stop them." The retired spy cautioned, "But it will slow them down a little. And as for this little jewel…Mother will keep it safe until a more…shall we say agreeable…government resides in Teheran." His lips turning up in a grin, he refreshed both their drinks, "If you'll check your Swiss bank account, you'll also find that Mother was very grateful to you for your services."
Taking out her cell phone and glancing down at it, the blonde adventuress grinned, "So I see. You must thank Mother for me."
"So…where are you off to now, my dear?" Steed inquired as he lit a new cigarette for his niece, handing it to her.
Placing the cigarette in her holder, Tara responded with a wicked grin, "The Kitty-Kat Club to wind down for a bit and then a couple of weeks at St. Tropez to work on my tan and…"
"I have many fond memories of St. Tropez." Steed chuckled. Then, his laughter fading, he propositioned, "Mother and a friend of Mother's would like to ask another favor of you…one that you might find quite rewarding…but it will be a long-term project, I'm afraid."
"You know I don't work directly for Mother, Uncle John." Tara protested as she took a drag from her cigarette. "I don't mind doing her or her friends the odd favor, but I don't like being tied down."
"You won't be tied down…at least not all the time." Steed explained, "You'll have plenty of opportunities to freelance and Mother and her friend might have some outside projects for someone with your special skill sets that you might find quite…profitable. And…" He added, sounding a note of caution and concern, "It will give you a chance to lie low…or lower. You've made some people very cross with this caper—even though you've done a good job in making sure you couldn't be tied to it. Best to put some time and distance between you and them for a while."
"All right…" Tara sighed as she sipped her cocktail. "I'm listening."
"First, let me introduce you to Mother's friend." At the old man's prompt, a door opened and an attractive, if stern faced, dark-haired woman wearing a business suit and with one eye covered by an eye patch emerged. Gesturing to the bar, John encouraged, "Name your poison, Betty."
"No thanks, Mr. Steed." The woman responded as she joined Tara and her uncle in the parlor.
Letting out a brief chuckle, the old man quipped, "Oh Betty…you were such the live wire once. What happened?"
"Becoming director of Global Justice." The other woman replied, her lips turning up in a fond smile as she regarded the older man. Glancing again at the bar, her slight grin turned into a full blown smile, "Very well…I'll have my usual."
"One scotch and soda coming up." Steed grinned. After fixing the drink and handing it to the dark-haired woman, the retired spy made introductions, "This is Betty Director, Tara. She's in charge of Global Justice. And Betty…this is…"
"Tara King." Betty interrupted, "Con artist…"
"Charmer." Tara interjected with a smirk.
"Thief." Betty snapped back.
"Rogue." Tara riposted.
"Betty…" Steed gently chided, "You're looking at the last of a dying breed. My Tara is what we in the day used to call an adventuress." Smiling fondly at his niece, he remarked, "She's cut from the same cloth as us, Simon Templar, Emma, her grandmother, Modesty and a few others—including your little problem child and her friends. You'll never get her to formally join your or any other agency's ranks. Work with…yes. Work for…never."
"What Uncle said." Tara declared as she blew a smoke ring in the direction of the Director.
"I get the picture, Mr. Steed." Betty interjected, cutting the old man off. "First…" The GJ director requested, "Could you stand up, please, Ms. King?"
Tilting her head slightly to the left in slight confusion, Tara recognized the almost imperceptible nod of her uncle's head. "All right." The blonde replied as she rose to her feet.
"She looks the part." Betty nodded her head in satisfaction, "But can she act the part?"
"Can you act as a typical teenage girl—approximately age sixteen to seventeen, my dear?" Steed requested.
Shrugging her shoulders, Tara complied, "I'll give it a go." After a few moments to get into character, she went into her act, "Ummm…Isn't Frankie Weston soooo hot!? I mean…really! She then grinned at her uncle, "Uncle John…" Tara pleaded with a puppy dog pout, "Can I stay out after my curfew? Molly and Frankie's orgy's tonight and I don't want to miss a minute of it."
"But of course, Sweetums." Steed bantered back, "Just don't forget your undies like you did last time."
"Okay…okay!" Dr. Director threw up her hands in a seeming gesture of exasperation to hide the grin threatening to appear on her face. "She can pull it off. The question is…" The GJ chief stated, turning her attention on the blonde woman, "Do you want the job, Ms. King."
"It depends." Tara replied as she resumed her seat and lit a fresh cigarette, "On what's involved…the terms of employment and…of course…compensation."
"You'll be extremely well compensated for your time." Betty replied, "With plenty of outside projects to provide even more reward plus whatever you can earn freelancing—provided…" She cautioned, "You exercise due discretion."
"In other words…don't get caught." Tara interjected with an amused grin.
"Correct." The Director nodded her head.
"Right then." Tara sipped her drink, "Let's hear the particulars."
Taking a photo out of her valise, Betty handed it to the young blonde. Picking up the photo, Tara saw a young teenage girl with olive green eyes, a brilliant smile, and red hair. "Pretty in that 'girl next door' sort of manner I suppose." Tara commented as she examined another picture, this one of a young man with blond hair and freckles wearing an oversized hockey jersey with what appeared to be a rodent perched on his shoulder. "Who's the twerp? Red's boyfriend? And what is…" She squinted her eyes as she carefully examined the photo, "That hairless rodent doing there?"
Betty shook her head. "The girl is your primary objective. Her name is Kim Possible. The boy is her best friend…Ron Stoppable and his pet naked mole rat, Rufus."
"Possible? Stoppable?" Tara giggled. "Are those their real names?"
"I'm afraid so, my dear." Steed chuckled. "I'm not sure how they got them."
"There's a story there somewhere." Betty agreed, this time not even bothering to hide her grin, "But we haven't found it yet." Her serious demeanor returning, the director continued her briefing. "Possible is also what your uncle calls an…adventuress…just like you."
"Now…now, Betty." Steed gently teased, "You were quite the wild oat sower in your day, lest you forget. Why, I recall that time in Milan when you and…"
"Ummm…yes…" A furiously blushing Betty Director quickly interrupted, resuming her briefing, "While mostly staying within the area of Middleton, some of her…adventures…have been further afield." The director handed a folder to the young blonde.
"When did she get her start?" Tara asked as she opened the folder and perused its contents.
"In middle school." Betty answered back. "She started a website to make money babysitting and was accidentally contacted to rescue a billionaire because the person who contacted her made a typo." She further explained as a disbelieving Tara began to laugh, "The man…a Mr. McHenry…wanted to contact this group called Team Impossible, but instead of typing in on his browser he typed in…"
" ." Tara interjected, her laughter growing louder. Turning her attention back to the information contained in the folder in her hands, the young blonde's eyebrows raised, "Not a bad skill set. Where did she get her training?"
"While she's had marital arts and gymnastics training." Betty replied, "She's had no formal operations training."
"You don't get formal training in this line of work." Tara countered, "You learn from someone who's good at their craft as I did from my grandmother and Uncle John and Aunt Emma, and then make it up as you go. It appears to me that she's a pretty good improvisor—maybe a bit hasty at times, but a good arse kicking or two should take care of that." Her attention returning to the boy, she asked, "What about him? How does he fit in…as her backup?"
"Yes." Betty nodded her head, "And no." Seeing the confused look on the blonde's face, she explained, "Mr. Stoppable accompanies Ms. Possible on their…missions and acts as her…I guess you could say sidekick. However, while Ms. Possible has had some training and does possess more than a little natural talent, none of that is true as regards Mr. Stoppable."
"And yet he's still alive and in possession of all his body parts." Tara mused. "Which means that he's either not as dumb and clumsy as he appears or he is an incredibly lucky boy."
"Or both." Steed interjected.
"What are you expecting me to do?" Tara inquired, "Work my way on to their team? They don't seem to be the sort who'll welcome an extra body on impulse—especially an unknown quantity. Besides, a newcomer would throw off whatever rhythm or dynamic they have going with each other. Potentially fatal in our line of work."
"No…" Betty shook her head. "Nothing like that. Just try to stay close to them. Get to know them. Try to become part of their circle—even if it is nothing more than a peripheral part. Keep an eye on them, but don't let them know that you're doing that. Keep your ear to the ground and your eyes open and appraise us of anything unusual that you discover."
"And if they find themselves in a bind?"
"If they find themselves in a situation where you believe that you have to directly intervene to save them from serious harm or death, then you are authorized to blow your cover. Otherwise, you're just a normal teenage sophomore girl starting her first semester at Middleton High in a couple of weeks."
"Right then." Tara nodded her head as she gestured for her uncle to freshen her drink. "Now to logistics and cover."
"You've been fostered by an American couple after your parents were killed in a plane crash a year ago." Betty explained, only to be interrupted by the lovely blonde.
"Nice touch…slipping in the half truth." Tara noted, "As my natural parents did die in a plane crash shortly after I was born. I still know next to nothing about them." She also commented, this time with an accusatory frown aimed at her uncle.
"I'm sorry, my dear." Steed interjected with a sincere note of apology in his voice, "I truly wish that your Grandmother and I could tell you more, but now is not the time. I know it's asking a lot, but please believe me when I tell you that when the time is right, we'll tell you everything."
Nodding her head once, Tara sipped her gin and tonic and took a draw from her cigarette, "All right, Uncle. I'll wait—for a bit. But I want full disclosure and I'd prefer sooner rather than later." Turning her attention to Betty, The lovely blonde gestured with her cigarette, "Go on."
"We've purchased a house for you and have assigned two Global Justice agents to act as your cover foster parents."
"We will not be residing together unless strictly necessary." Tara declared, staking out her position. "I prefer to live alone except for the occasional overnight or weekend guest."
"You'll only see your 'foster parents' when it is necessary to maintain your cover." Betty vowed, further reassuring, "The foster parent cover is strictly short term—only a month or two at most. Then, you will be granted legal emancipation and will no longer need to maintain the foster parent fiction."
"That works." Tara replied, taking a sip of her drink before bringing the next item of business. "Now…as to my compensation…"
"You'll receive a weekly stipend of…" Betty handed a tablet to Tara who then shook her head and entered in another set of numbers. Betty, gritting her teeth on seeing the blonde's counter, reluctantly agreed. "Very well."
"Excellent." Tara grinned, adding, "And anything I get from outside projects or freelance work is mine."
"That is acceptable." The Global Justice chief responded. "Do we have an arrangement."
"We do. I guess I can go back to high school for a while. So…when do I begin? I was hoping to get at least one week of down time at St. Tropez."
"You'll have that week." Betty replied, "But you'll need to be in Middleton by the beginning of the week after to get set up and attend orientation. School starts in a few weeks and you've got a lot to do to get ready for your first day."
"Well…" Tara sighed as she finished her drink and put out her cigarette. "Looks like I get to be sixteen again. Pity you can only lose your virginity once."
Drakken's Secret Mountain Lair
"Everything appears to be in order." Dr. Drakken declared as he perused his prospective assistant's cv. "Weekends off? Overtime? But what if we're in the middle of my scheme to take over the world? I can't put a halt to it because the weekend comes."
"Then I get double-time." Shego replied with a sneer. "Plus hazard pay if the opposition includes any of the following…"
"MI-6…the CIA…the FSB…Mossad…" Drakken read down the list of elite intelligence and special operations units, not to mention super teams such as Team Go. "I can understand the intelligence agencies and special operations teams as well as super teams like the Offenders and Team Impossible, but Team Go?" Drakken queried, "Is there a reason you included those…amateurs…in your list."
"I have reasons." Shego flatly replied.
"I'm also curious as to why you didn't add Kim Possible to your list." Drakken noted.
Her lips turning up in an evil grin, the green-skinned supervillainess licked her lips in anticipation, "She's a freebie. I want to find out how much I've heard about her is real and how much bullshit."
"All right." The blue-skinned mad scientist grinned, "You're hired. Now…" He said as he pointed to the blueprints on his desk, "This is how you're going to help me conquer the world."
Possible Household
"Thanks for letting me stay over for dinner, Doctor and Missus Doctor Possible." Ron grinned as he helped himself to a second helping of Mrs. Possible's pot roast and potatoes.
"You know you're always welcome here, Ron." Anne Possible smiled warmly at her daughter's best friend.
"Yeah, Ron." Doctor Possible interjected as Kim's Kimmunicator beeped.
"Hey Wade." Kim quickly answered, "What's the sitch?"
"Have you caught the news yet?" The African-American Team Possible tech genius inquired.
"No." Kim responded, "We're at the dinner table right now."
"Well…turn it on." Wade insisted. After receiving a nod of permission from her mother, Kim went into the living room and turned on the television set, tuning it on to the news channel.
"And there are still no comments from either the Iranian or Russian governments regarding the recent theft of the Eye of Xerxes from the Iranian Embassy in Moscow." The picture transitioned from the news anchor to a still photo of a large blood red ruby.
"Wow!" Kim gasped, "That's a big jewel." Turning her attention back to her Kimmunicator, the redheaded hero stated in a dubious tone of voice, "Don't tell me the Iranian or Russian governments are asking for our help."
"Even if they did." James Possible declared in a flat voice, "This would be one time your mother and I would not grant you permission to go. We don't mind you going out to save the world provided you're back home by curfew or have a very good reason for staying out late, but to help people like…"
"They didn't ask for our help anyway." Kim interjected with a sigh of relief as her techie filled her in on the details. "Wade was just keeping us updated. He also said that he wants to meet the person who broke into that embassy and stole that ruby. Whoever did it had to know their way around some very advanced security systems."
"That's good that they didn't ask for your help." Mrs. Possible sighed in relief as she ushered her family and their guest back to the dinner table, "And as regards the person who stole that ruby, I don't think we'll ever get to meet that thief—at least I hope not. I'm not sure I'd want someone like that living too close to us."
"Yeah." Ron agreed, "Middleton's got enough to keep us busy. We don't need a professional jewel thief adding to our problems."
St. Tropez
While lounging by the pool of the St. Tropez beach resort she was staying at, Tara thumbed through a copy of the Middleton High Student Handbook Doctor Director had given her before she began her vacation. Shaking her head at the list of rules and infractions, the young blonde took a sip from her pina colada. "What the bloody hell did I get myself into."