Chapter 17 – The trap opens

Thirteen days to Junior Prom

The half-man half-simian Lord Montgomery Fiske, now calling himself Monkey Fist, stared at Team Possible as they burst out of the jungle into the clearing where he was sitting in a circle with his monkey ninjas, surrounding an ancient statue.

"Oh look it's the cheer squad," Monty jeered, greeting them with a fake grin as his companions jumped up ready for whatever instructions their master would give them. "You turn up so tediously to schedule. We were just about to start the ceremony to reanimate the Lorisinae Maximus. And you're not going to interfere. Mystical Monkey Power will be mine and mine alone!"

A screeching circled the altar, as the ninjas hooted at each other.

Ron scrutinized the statue. "It's a bit small isn't it?" he asked. "I mean, for something called maximus?"

The object in question was a stone representation of a loris – a creature similar to a lemur – and stood about six inches high and ten inches long.

Monkey Fist looked petulantly at the boy. "It's not my fault that lorises are that size!"

"And is it even a monkey?" Ron challenged.

Monty looked ready to explode. "Of course it's a monkey," he yelled. "It's a primate. And it's going to kill you in a minute!"

Kim watched the exchange with growing impatience.

"Okay Fiske, where is Dementor?" she demanded.

Ron stopped and shut his eyes in concentration as the villain stared at the girl in surprise.

"How should I know?" Monkey Fist glared at her. "Do you think he shares his calendar with me?"

Ron's eyes opened again. "Just because it's a primate doesn't mean that it's a monkey," he pointed out.

"Ron, focus, now," Kim scolded as Fiske's face darkened in anger.

Kim returned her attention to Monty. "We have information that Dementor is here. Now tell us where he's hiding."

The villain chuckled. "Someone sent you on a wild goose chase, cheerleader. He's not here and I haven't seen him for months."

"You're lying," Kim snarled, her fists closing as she assumed a fighting pose. Fiske snapped his fingers and his monkey ninjas started advancing toward the girl.

"He's telling the truth, Kim." Two faces turned to face Ron. Her sidekick looked apologetic. "I know he's not lying – it's a monkey thing."

Kim had not been present when Ron had been struck by Mystical Monkey Power and Ron had given her a sanitized version.

Monkey Fist was about to instruct his monkey ninjas to attack but hesitated when he caught sight of a flash of blue in his antagonist's eyes.

Ron addressed Fiske. "Call them off, Monty. We're leaving. We have no argument with you today." He looked over at the statue. "And you can stop wasting your time with that thing – it's not a monkey. Look it up."

The villain stared back at him. "Alright, leave now and don't come back," he said menacingly. "But next time we meet, Stoppable, I will be prepared for you. I will take back what you stole from me and claim my destiny."

"Sure, sure," Ron had already turned away.

Kim held her ground, until Ron took her by the arm and pulled her away into the cover of the jungle.

"Why did you do that Ron?" she hissed at him.

"You know why, Kim. Someone at GJ screwed up. Let's get home before it gets any later."

Kim looked at him then sighed. "I guess you're right," she allowed as the pair retraced their steps towards the pick-up zone.

Same time – Tibet

Dementor and Manfred watched as the first batch of fifty fully-processed synthodrones emerged from the tank in which they had maturated. Each synthodrone had taken the best part of a week to create from scratch, and there were nineteen tanks in the room, with synthodrones at varying stages of development. The technique would not have been possible were it not for Dementor having found a way to stabilize the voracious synthoplasm that would otherwise have swallowed up everything in the lab and beyond. All nine hundred would emerge within ten days from eighteen of the tanks, giving the team time to relocate them to Middleton in readiness for the final stage of the plot.

There was nothing to distinguish one of the vaguely-humanoid synthodrones from another. They had identical body shape (muscular), color (red and black henchman outfits that were formed as part of their skin) and facial appearance (each appeared to be wearing welder's glasses over identikit oval heads). The other factor that all the synthodrones had in common was an almost-invisible translucent dot, about the size of a contact lens, that was attached to the back of their necks.

Dementor had solved another problem, but this time he had not shared the information. Despite his public confidence when the matter had been raised at a meeting, the pint-sized villain had left the meeting determined to find a solution to the problem that the synthodrones were highly vulnerable to a knife attack or even a puncture. This was a feature of the carapace, or skin, that coated a synthodrone. Dementor and Manfred had found that the synthesized skin, the sole substance that could retain the synthoplasm, only functioned effectively as a thin layer barely an eighth of an inch thick.

Working nights without Manfred present, Dementor had found a way to bond the stabilizing material with a much tougher Kevlar skin layer. This enabled him to provide the growing androids with a two-inch thick carapace that left them all but invulnerable, both to blast and to knife attack. Even if a knife thrust were to pierce the thick skin, the synthoplasm within would set almost immediately and seal the wound. The thick skin made the androids' appearance even less humanlike, but for shock troops this was hardly an issue. Indeed, the sight of these burly attackers would put fear into the hearts of any opposition. He had taken some small pleasure in introducing the red and black pattern to the Kevlar, something he would have been unable to do with the original skin.

There remained a risk that in extremis, synthoplasm might be spilt in quantities that would allow it to replicate uncontrollably. Dementor had dealt with this by reprogramming the nanites to self-destruct as soon as their density dropped below a level consistent with a wound.

Neither Manfred not Drakken were aware of the new status of his synthodrones. As far as they knew, the androids remained vulnerable to puncture. Dementor was keeping this useful information to himself. He was already thinking ahead to the moment that he launched his plan to regain control of his lair and the plot. Having some muscle which his opponents mistakenly thought could be taken down by a sharp implement would give him an element of surprise.

Dementor glanced at the nineteenth tank. This contained just a single maturing synthodrone. Number 901 was different from the others. He (for it was impossible to describe such a life-like creature as an it) was already showing signs of a fully-human look. His build reflected the athleticism of his templates Bobby Johnson and Hirotaka. His face remained unformed except for some freckles, but brown hair was already growing. And the body itself was flesh-colored, with no trace of the red and black coating of the other synthodrones. Unlike them, he would need to be provided with clothing when he emerged. Dementor noticed with some amusement that Synthodrone #901 was anatomically correct. Just how close to Kim Possible is Drakken expecting his synthodrone to get? he mused.

The absence of a red and black carapace was a clue to another difference between #901 and the rest. In order to mold the face and body to teenage boy proportions, and to accurately replicate hair, the carapace had to be much more supple and therefore much thinner than that of the other androids. Dementor could not make use of his Kevlar skin for this one. While in most other respects, including the presence of the enhanced Moodulator chip, this android was the same as the others, #901 would retain a vulnerability to sharp objects. He also had a radio receiver embedded in his skull. This would enable his controllers to instruct him remotely without being detected.

"Ok, let's zee vat zees things are capable off," Dementor ordered. "Synthodrone numbers 1 and 2, come forward."

The first two androids to emerge from the tank walked towards them from the group and stopped a few yards away. This was in fact the first test. Dementor's nanite programming made sure that no synthodrone would ever approach him or Manfred too closely, let alone attack them. This was a necessary precaution in case an opponent got hold of a programming device and tried to turn the synthodrones on their creators. This particular directive was in effect hard-wired into the creatures.

Satisfied that the First Directive was in place, Dementor ordered them to fight each other. The two synthodrones squared up to each other and threw tentative punches that the other easily deflected. After watching the stalemate for several minutes, Dementor signaled to Manfred. The other man picked up a remote control with colored buttons and pressed the red button, at the same time speaking to the androids, "You hate each other." The previously hesitant sparring suddenly gave way to a furious flurry of blows that tore through each other's guards and landed one by one on their opponent. Stunned by the sheer violence, Dementor and Manfred watched with awe as the two synthodrones continued to batter each other with no signs of letting up and no perceptible damage caused to either.

After they had seen enough, Manfred pressed a white button on the remote control and the two assailants stopped in their tracks, looking bewildered.

The Second Directive had been effectively demonstrated.

For the next hour or so, Manfred and Dementor put the batch of synthodrones through their paces, starting with expanding their hand-to-hand fighting repertoire and ending with firearms training. In each case, gradually improving but human-like fighting skills were transformed by the press of a red button into an awesome display of berserker aggression. No soldiers, however well-trained, would be able to stand up against even a small number of synthodrones once activated.

Finally, Dementor took out a surgical syringe that had been coated in the stabilizing agent and carried out the equivalent of drawing a blood sample from one of the synthodrones. The agent meant that the tiny pinprick would not leak at all and the sample would not absorb the syringe.

The sample – really some synthoplasm – was set aside to be used to impregnate the next batch of synthodrones with the learning that this batch had acquired.

Manfred gave Dementor a look of satisfaction as he left the room to brief Drakken. The German villain waited until he was out of earshot before handing a knife to one of the synthodrones and telling it to attack one of the others, simultaneously pressing the red button. After five minutes, the defending synthodrone was bloodied but unbowed, with stab wounds healing and only a small loss of synthoplasm. Dementor nodded in satisfaction as he ordered the synthodrones back to their storage pods.

Eleven days to Junior Prom

"Killigan?" Kim cried as the Scotsman turned to face the intruders in his lair below the eighteenth hole at Gleneagles Golf Club. "What are you doing here?"

She looked helplessly at Ron, who shrugged.

"What d'ya think lassie?" the golfing villain retorted. "Hoots man this is ma hoose." His sporran shook with his rage at having his privacy violated by Team Possible.

"So, where is Professor Dementor?" she insisted.

"Ah dinnae ken. He's noot here. Why would I let tha' dalek into ma hame? Tha' numptie only plays off of a fifteen handicap. I need someone a bit handier wi' a putter!"

Kim was losing patience. "No more tricks, Duff. Where are you hiding Dementor?" Her face was red with frustration.

The golfer stared at her. "Yer oot yer face, lassie. Na' go back t' ya maw and paw an' let me get back to ma bed before I decide to practice ma swing. " He picked up a five-iron threateningly.

Kim turned on her heel and stomped away. Ron grimaced apologetically at Duff Killigan as he followed the furious redhead out of the front door.

Same time – Tibet

Whiteness fills my vision. A humming sound fills my ears.

What is white? What is sound? How do I know what these are?

Need to sleep.

Time passes.

A voice.

"Hello, son welcome to the world."

Who is this? Who am I?

I struggle in my bonds.

"Don't fight it, son. The bonds are for your own protection. We'll remove them soon."

Another voice. Mine?

"What is happening? Where am I?"

A soothing touch across my forehead. I feel … loved?

"Don't worry, get some sleep now. Everything will be clearer when you wake."

Darkness.

I open my eyes.

The bonds are gone.

A … man? … looks at me and then leaves the room.

I try to sit up but feel nauseous and I lie back down.

A blue-skinned man, accompanied by a short man with a helmet, look down on him.

"Wh … wh … where am I?"

"You're home, son. You live here."

Confusion.

"I don't remember anything!"

"Don't worry. You're just being rebooted. It'll all be clear shortly."

Images flashing through my head.

A growing sense of self.

"How do you feel now?"

I sit up. No nausea this time.

"You're Dad, aren't you?"

"That's right! And who are you?"

An image comes to me. I am a student. I am about to transfer to a new school. I have to find someone there. Why?

"My name is Eric!"

A woman – with green skin! – hands Dad a photograph and a handheld device with colored buttons.

Dad shows the picture to me.

"This is Kim Possible. You love her. You will make her love you."

He depresses the pink button.

Nine days to Junior Prom

I have a bad feeling about this, Ron thought as they burst into a television studio on the outskirts of Go City.

"What the freaky … " gasped the blonde woman standing in front of the solitary camera.

Kim scowled at Adrena Lynn who cowered under her gimlet stare.

"Where's … "she began, before stamping her foot in disgust.

"Never mind. Come on Ron we're leaving!" Her face was black with rage as she paced out of the building. It was all Ron could do to keep up with her.

"We're being played," the angry girl spat out as she walked back to the road to hail a cab. "And whoever's doing this is sooo going to regret it."

She pulled out her Kimmunicator and paged her techie. Wade's face appeared almost immediately.

"How did it g … " the boy asked, trailing off as he saw the look of thunder on her face.

"Another false alarm, Wade. What is Betty playing at?"

Wade looked concerned. "All of these missions were triggered by anonymous tip-offs, Kim. Looks like someone wants to keep you running around as a distraction from Dementor's real location."

After his meeting with Dr. Director and Will Du, Wade had briefed Kim and Ron on GJ's concerns about what Dementor might be up to. The villain might well have got his hands on a hugely dangerous weapon which, when combined with Cyrus Bortel's enhanced Moodulator, would pose a serious threat. Kim and Ron had been forced to cut short their vacation and return to active service.

And now, three anonymous sightings of Dementor in a week had proved to be fruitless. It was hard to avoid the conclusion that he was deliberately laying a false trail.

Which could only mean that whatever nefarious plan Dementor had was close to realization.

Kim looked back at the image on her screen. "Can you track down the IP address of the tip-offs?"

"Been trying to do that since the second false alarm, Kim. Whoever sent those messages knows how to conceal their origin. They seem to be bouncing the packets through the Bueno Nacho server. The trail goes cold at that point."

Ron looked shocked. "What kind of evil corrupts the essential purity of Bueno Nacho? That is just plain wrongsick!"

Kim seethed. "Dementor is deliberately taunting us, Wade. He's trying to make us a laughing stock. Or distract us from what's really going on."

"I'll keep trying to find the original source of the tip-offs, but whoever is doing this knows what they are doing." Wade looked preoccupied as he glanced at his terminal.

"Ok Wade," Kim exhaled. "At least we haven't got too long a journey home tonight. Come on Ron, I'll treat you to a corrupted naco at the root of all evil, the Mucho Grande Bueno Nacho. "

"Not funny, Kim," came the reply, but he couldn't stop a loud burp erupting from his stomach at the thought of a naco. Kim giggled at the sound. A warm feeling went through Ron as he saw his friend relaxing. "No, let's head back to Middleton and eat there. The one here is too impersonal."

At least she can still laugh about it, Ron thought. Let's hope there's no villain-hunting planned for tomorrow.

Ninety minutes later

"What do you mean, no curly straws?" Ron demanded as Ned brought his naco and her salad to their table together with two sodas.

Ned grimaced. "Sorry, Ron. New management. They're cutting back on everything non-essential."

Kim rolled her eyes apologetically at Ned. "He's a little stressed at the moment. We had a wasted journey this evening."

Ned looked shifty. "Can't chat I'm afraid. The new boss is a stickler. He's taking the fun out of the place." He indicated a burly Eurasian man standing in the shadows.

"I'll sort him out," Ron reassured him. Getting up from his seat he walked towards the silent man. Kim started to stand up to pull him back, but Ned shook his head.

"Hey mister BN manager, what's with the no curly straws? And not letting your employees fraternize with the customers – that is just sick and wrong! The whole foundation of this franchise's success is the quintessential esprit de corpse between Tex-Mex maker and Tex-Mex consumer!"

Lars looked at him. "Those are the rules, punk. And if you don't like them you can leave right now!" The man indicated the exit.

Ron was shocked. "Hey, do you know who I am? I'm the inventor of the naco, which pays your wages my good man."

Lars stared at him. "And I'm the President of the United States. Now shut up or get out!"

Ron stumbled back to his seat. Kim looked up sympathetically as he slumped down.

"I think I've just lost my appetite." His stomach rumbled. "Well maybe not quite."

The pair ate their meal in near-silence, watched from a distance by the manager.

As they were leaving, Ned picked up a flyer from a pile by the door and handed it to Ron. "Hey, this may interest Kim's brothers."

Ron took one look at the headline, New from Bueno Nacho - Kid's Meals, and snorted in disgust as he stuffed the flyer into his pocket.

Is nothing sacred anymore?

Stoppable residence

Ron Stoppable came to a decision while he was preparing for bed after returning from Bueno Nacho. He was not going to get a date for the Junior Prom. Tara King was the only girl in Middleton High School who would have even considered a request for a date from him. And thanks to that blasted Moodulator, he had lost his best chance ever to ask her out. He thought back to those few precious hours when he actually knew that Tara wanted him to ask her. Heck, he'd even done his homework on time. And he was so close! Just a few undisturbed minutes more and if Monique was to be believed – and he didn't doubt her – he would have been pushing at an open door.

Until his best friend inadvertently ruined everything by pulling him into a heart-stopping kiss in full view of half the school, and in particular – as Bonnie had taken such pleasure in sharing with him the next day – in front of Tara. His tormentor had somehow come to learn of his interest in the blonde cheerleader, and had made it clear that he stood no chance with her. Ron had had no chance to explain and make amends before his dream girl had turned to Josh Mankey for a beau at the Middleton Days Parade and the Prom instead of him.

Ron looked at his soap-covered face in the mirror and shook his head. Too easy to blame others, Stoppable! No, it wasn't fair to blame anyone but himself for this situation. Firstly, Kim was not on control of her actions that day. That Moodulator thingy must have packed a powerful punch to cause Kim to behave as out of control as she did that afternoon and evening. She was fortunate that he was the one on which her artificially-stimulated hormones happened to latch onto. He shuddered to think what might have happened if she had come on like that to some stranger, who might so easily have taken advantage of her. No, Kim was definitely not to blame for the wasteland that was his dating life.

And if he were honest, he might have been able to salvage the situation with Tara had he explained straight away that he hadn't intended to be in a clinch with Kim when she saw him. But instead he let his hormones get the better of him. He could have pulled away when Kim grabbed him, but he didn't. He could have stopped her when she paraded him through the school to her locker. But he didn't. He could have gently put her right about his feelings and gone off to find Tara. But he didn't. And most of all, he could have pulled out of attending the Parade with her. He thought back to his reaction to that dress and felt a sense of shame sweep over him. How dare he have such thoughts about his best friend since Pre-K!

He had to admit it, Ron Stoppable was the architect of his own misfortune. And to make things worse, he took Kim too much for granted. He could almost see the face in the mirror staring back at him accusingly more in sorrow than in anger. His face drooped as he rinsed away the soap

One of Ron's unremarked-on strengths was his ability to find the silver lining in even the most thundery of clouds. Despite the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that battered the good ship Stoppable throughout his adolescence, he was one of nature's optimists and simply could not remain in a state of self-induced misery for any length of time.

And so it was that when Rufus popped out of his pocket and squeaked Kim, Ron came to a decision.

They'd accompanied each other to parties many times before as friends – not for a while admittedly – but could a Prom be very different from Bernie Custer's fourteenth birthday party? Not that he could remember anything about that occasion.

He wasn't going to get a date for the Prom. But that was no reason not to go. It was supposed to be fun. And Kim didn't have a date either. So the two of them could go together, not as dates of course (of course!), but as best friends. Very best friends. He owed it to her and he would focus on making sure that she felt appreciated. And both of them would have a great night.

Ron grinned at his reflection, cheered by his reflection grinning back. Who needs a date when you've got your BFF by your side! I can't wait to ask Kim tomorrow!

Possible residence

Kim Possible came to a decision while she was preparing for bed the same night. She was not going to get a date for the Junior Prom. Monique's plans for a double-date were just not going to happen. As Bonnie had made it crystal clear some days earlier, all the suitable talent was spoken for. And had there been anyone halfway-decent left who might have been tempted to leap the food chain and ask her for a date, her credibility had been completely shot thanks to that blasted Moodulator. Anyone else at school would simply assume that she still had the hots for Ron after the spectacle they made in the dining hall that day.

And with the thoughts of her best friend, her mind finally got around to the concept that she had been trying to ignore ever since she had spoken to her mother a couple of nights ago.

"Mum? So Bonnie's with Brick and she's all high horse, and then there's the food chain and I haven't got a date for the stinkin' Prom and I'm going to end up with the captain of the chess club and …."

Kim paused for breath then looked plaintively at the older redhead. "What do I do, Mum?"

Anne appraised her daughter. Sometimes the girl's need for peer approval blinded her to the obvious.

"I don't see the crisis, honey. Kevin is a very nice guy. But what about Ron? I'll bet he's free to escort you."

"Muum," Kim wailed. "After that Moodulator thing I couldn't possibly ask Ron. What if he thinks I like-like him after all?"

"And that would be so terrible?" her mother teased.

Kim looked askance at Anne. "No Mum. I've made enough of a mess of his life. He's really keen on Tara and I blew his chance with her."

The older woman gazed sympathetically at her daughter. "So as a friend, Ron is okay. But he's not boyfriend material?"

"No. Yes. Well kind of. I mean, he probably is but not for me."

His mother considered. "So why don't you ask him as a friend only? If he's not going with Tara, he'll understand. Then both you and he can have an enjoyable night."

Kim stared moodily into the mirror. I wish it were that simple, she thought. What Mum doesn't realize is that the person you go with, it makes a statement.

Her doppelganger seemed to fade from the mirror to be replaced by a sneering brunette cheerleader.

"Exactly," the face in the mirror reminded her, "and there's nothing so sad as going to a Prom with your just a friend."

The image changed to that of a dark-skinned beauty scowling at her.

"You do know there's one guy who's never been weirded out by your activities, don't you?"

Monique disappeared only to be replaced by Bonnie again.

"Do you remember what happened last time you went to a party with Ron?"

Bernie Custer's fourteenth birthday party. Boys and girls eyeing each other uncomfortably across the sitting room. The young men in smart pants matched with a shirt – blue or red. The young women in party frocks and coiffured hair. Kim – dressed similarly to the other girls – standing alone in the hall, waiting for her friend to show up after Ron's mother had rung to say they were running late and could Kim meet Ron there. The ring of the doorbell. The host, followed by a group of friends, coming out into the hall to see who had arrived. The door opening. Ron Stoppable, wearing a clown costume, steps in with a grin, eyes searching the room for Kim. His gaze meets hers. His smile falters as he sees the embarrassed look on her face. He looks around the room, noticing for the first time the absence of any other guest in fancy dress. A titter circles the room, rapidly becoming full-throated laughter. Ron looks at Kim again, crestfallen. Sorry, KP he mouths. She looks away.

For the first time since they met in Pre-K, Kim Possible pretends not to know her best friend.

Kim closed her eyes in shame at the uncomfortable memory.

But that was nearly three years ago. We've both grown up since then. He won't embarrass me at Prom!

Her eyes popped open.

After all, we've had other dances since, haven't we?

A memory of Josh Mankey taking her arm and leading her off to the Spirit Dance as she kicked shut the cupboard door on a suddenly-forgotten Ron.

Oh god, I never truly apologized for that. Did I?

Rufus tugging frantically at the hem of her skirt, pointing toward the rapidly receding cupboard. A tut of annoyance as she extricated herself from him and swept away with her crush.

Was I really that shallow?

Selfishly sneaking out of her bedroom to meet Josh, while Ron was away risking his life in the Amazon seeking the cure to Drakken's embarrassment pollen that threatened to make her disappear.

Ron has always been my best friend. Have I always been his?

She could almost see his face in the mirror staring accusingly more in sorrow than in anger.

"Never be normal!"

Kim made up her mind. Ron deserves better than that. She wasn't going to get a date for the Prom. But that was no reason not to go. It was supposed to be fun. And Ron didn't have a date either. So the two of them would go together, not as dates of course, but as best friends. Very best friends. She owed it to him and she would focus on making sure that he felt appreciated. And both of them would have a great night. Who cares about the stinkin' food chain anyway?

Kim beamed at her reflection, cheered as her reflection smiled back. Who needs a date when you've got your BFF by your side! I can't wait to tell Ron tomorrow!

The next morning

Kim had only a single thought in her mind as she approached the school gate. On this occasion she and Ron were not walking together. Ron had been asked by his father to run an errand on his way to school so he had arranged to meet her at school. Her determination to ask Ron to the Prom had not abated and she scanned the crowd of students in the hope of spotting the blonde. Her shoulders drooped slightly as she saw no sign of him.

Okay, I'll have to find him at break time. I really don't want to leave it any longer than that.

She looked up as she heard her name called. Monique was waving at her to attract her attention.

"Hey girl, how did the freak-hunt go last night?" Kim had confided to Monique that her period of downtime was now officially over and that she was going to have to get used to being pulled In by Global Justice at short notice again. And the previous night was only the latest example.

"Another bust. That's the third in a week. At least this time we only had to go as far as Go City."

Monique looked troubled. "Isn't that a bit unusual?" she asked.

"More than a bit, Mon," Kim responded. "It looks as though someone is deliberately misdirecting us. GJ think that Dementor is up to something big, but Wade just can't get any sort of a handle on it."

The dark-skinned girl studied the dark rings under her friend's eyes. "Seems like you could do with a bit more of a break too. Can't you leave it to the professionals for once?"

Kim cast her eyes down. "No, this Dementor search is a big deal and it's all hands to the deck. But hopefully when they've found him …" her voice trailed away.

"Well, so long as you don't miss the Prom," her friend said brightly. "You are coming to the Prom aren't you?"

Kim smiled. "Yes, and I will be accompanied." Monique's eyes opened wide.

"So who's the lucky if totally undeserving young man?"

The teen hero grinned. "I'll let you know as soon as he agrees. Now I need to get to class."

Monique grinned as her friend walked away down the corridor towards her locker.

ooOooOoo

Ron was equally determined to speak to Kim as soon as he could, but at that moment he had just left the pharmacy after one of the most embarrassing times of his life, and that for Ron Stoppable was saying a great deal.

Ron had only just been made aware that his parents were trying for another child and he squirmed in embarrassment at the request to pick up some pregnancy test kits for his mother.

"Too much information, Dad," he grumbled to himself as he left the house. Especially as he had only found out about his parents' plans the previous evening after returning home from Bueno Nacho when he walked in on them in his room with a palette of pink paints splashed over the walls.

"What's going on, Dad?" he demanded of the older man who was holding up wallpaper samples for his wife to consider. "What are you doing in my room?"

His mother smiled at him. "You're having a baby sister," she giggled. "We need your room for her nursery."

Ron gaped at the pair. "And you were going to tell me about this when?" he demanded.

Dean Stoppable looked at his wife then returned Ron's gaze.

"This is our way of telling you, son," the father answered, though he could not help a look of discomfiture flit across his countenance. He glanced at his wife. "Can you leave us for a moment, dear?" he asked quietly.

His wife gave him an odd look as she left the room. The elder Stoppable turned to the younger man.

"Ron, your mother thinks she's pregnant with a baby girl. Maybe she is, but she hasn't had a pregnancy test yet. Meanwhile, please humor her." Ron could not fail to see the troubled look on his father's face.

"And I'm sorry about your room. By tomorrow, your mother will have forgotten about this and you can move back in after school. I'll help you with removing the paint."

His father walked through the door, closing it quietly behind him, leaving Ron to ponder his words.

The next morning his father had taken him aside and handed him what looked like a flat pen. "Can you go to Massey's and pick up some more of these please?"

His face turned bright red when his father explained the purpose of the device.

Now on his way to school, test kit safely hidden in his rucksack, Ron's thoughts returned to his mission. He would find Kim at the mid-morning break and ask her to accompany him to the Prom. He would have to be subtle – he didn't want to make her feel bad that she didn't have a proper date for the party. But he had to make it clear to her that he owed it to her to make sure she had a great evening.

He also wanted to ask Kim's advice about the strange events at his house. He understood that his parents wanted another child – though he could not imagine having a baby brother or sister at his age. But what had happened the previous night was just weird.

Why did Mum think that she was pregnant already? And what made her think it was a girl?

He thought about his father's words and actions.

Was everything okay with Mum? And with Dad too?

He didn't really know what to think, but he was sure that his best friend would figure it out for him. She, after all, was the smart one.

Ron was lost in his own thoughts as he walked through the school gate, the other last-minute arrivals running ahead of him so as not to be given late detention. He failed to notice someone approaching him from the side.

"Excuse me," came a melodious male voice that roused him from his reverie. "But could you tell me where the Principal's office is? I'm new here."

Author's Note

And so the synthohottie finally makes an appearance!

Bernie Custer is an invention of mine – he is supposed to be Arnie's cousin who is a similar age, but remained friends with Kim and Ron despite the slingshot episode with Arnie (Arnie himself is only mentioned in passing in one scene during So the Drama but some writers have made use of him in their fanfics).

Esprit de corpse isn't a typo, it's a Ronism.

Ron couldn't wait to ask Kim to go with him to the Prom, while Kim couldn't wait to tell Ron they were going together. That's what a Type A personality does for you.

Oh, and a reminder that the Stoppables don't adopt Hana until the following year, in Season 4. Now you know why they did it.