CHAPTER 19 – Kimmie's Got a Boyfriend!
Toronto – 6 days to Junior Prom
The dark-haired thief opened her eyes slowly, her head feeling like it was filled with Jello. She closed her eyes again as they were stabbed by the light from an unshaded bulb hanging from the ceiling. With her eyes closed she experimentally turned her head backwards and then again forwards. The movement gave her a feeling of seasickness and she stopped.
What am I doing here? And why do I feel so weak?
For the next few minutes she fought the urge to vomit. As the nausea receded she carefully opened her eyes again, taking care not to look upwards when she did. This time she was able to squint at her surroundings without ill-effect. She was secured by leather straps to a padded chair in the center of a nondescript room that appeared to be a ground floor office but which had no desks or other office furniture save a second leather-bound chair facing her with a small table beside it. The straps were firm but not painfully tight, securing her torso, legs and upper arms but leaving her hands relatively free, and therefore available to strike when the moment came. Either her captor was not very competent or he/she was very confident that she would not slip her bonds. She had more than a suspicion that her nausea pointed to the latter.
She risked a glance towards the daylight streaming through the front window. She could just see her parked car and, on the other side of the road, an office building that looked familiar.
As her head started to clear, some of her memories began to return. She had been in that building over the road! She could recollect nothing of the building itself but she was sure that she had left it by the rear door and found something (but what exactly?) in the trash can. After that, nothing.
How long had she been out?
The light was fading, indicating that she had been unconscious for at least eight hours. But it could have been days for all she knew.
She experimentally tugged at the straps securing her. Despite their appearance, they were clearly no ordinary straps as they did not immediately succumb to her strength. Concerned, she realized that it was not the straps that inhibited her movement - she was simply unable to exert very much force at all – no more in fact than a normal human.
Her alarm grew when she tried and failed to generate a plasma ball at either hand.
A painful ache – actually two - in her lower back and torso drew themselves to her attention, feeling for all the world like someone or something had hit her with a sharp instrument. The chair padding had cushioned the injuries thus far but her struggles threatened to unleash increasing discomfort.
The pain had the side-effect of clearing the remaining fuzziness from her head, and most of her remaining missing memories returned. She had been stung by something – probably a dart – as she left the building. She remembered stumbling to her car and then the unmistakable sensation of being struck by bullets. Fortunately for her, her assailant appeared to have stopped at two shots, neither of which were immediately lethal. Her comet-powers could deal simultaneously with a small number of shots provided that they did not irreparably damage a vital organ. And the bullets themselves would soon have been vaporized by her internal heat.
It was as though the perpetrator knew who she was and of her healing ability and had shot only to immobilize. The wounds still hurt like hell though despite the apparent effort made by her captors to protect them while they healed.
Didn't look like they wanted her dead, at least.
A face came into her mind, and a voice speaking her name.
She groaned quietly as she sought to get into a comfortable position while bound to the chair. She now remembered that she had found something in the trash can from HenchCo. It was clear that someone – presumably Global Justice – had spotted her entering their (abandoned?) office and had decided to take her down before she could respond.
But the shots alone could not explain her continuing weakness or the lack of a plasma capability. Could this be a result of the toxin she had been attacked with initially? Or had something been administered to her after the shooting? Likely the latter – the original attack had slowed her down but had not put her under. But whatever that something was, she had never encountered anything before that could shut down her powers.
Could this be some nasty little invention of the do-gooding GJ designed for her? But if it were them, why was she still tied to a chair like some damsel in distress? Surely Global Justice would have had her picked up and taken to a secure site by now?
So many questions! Shego was certain that she would get answers in due course. Someone was certain to come to see her in due course. Meanwhile there was nothing to do but to wait and try to minimize the pressure on her wounds.
ooOooOoo
The pain was just beginning to recede when behind her she heard a door open and the sound of footsteps as someone entered the room quietly.
"Who are you and what am I doing here?" she snarled. "You have ten seconds to answer before I torch this place."
"Now Shego, there is no need for any unpleasantness." The voice from behind her was calm and relaxed. "I shall reveal all in due course." He was walking around the chair as he spoke.
She opened her mouth to respond while once again willing her plasma to power up.
"Oh, and I think you've found that your plasma does not work. Just like your strength. Lucky for you that your healing powers are unaffected. Your wounds will heal by tomorrow morning."
The new arrival was now standing in front of the thief, carrying over his shoulder a kitbag that she recognized as her own, and in both hand a glass of water, one of which he placed on the table beside him and the second, close enough for her to reach, indicating that he was fully aware of her free hands. The stranger was a tall man, about five-ten and weighing around 160 pounds, with blond hair and a small goatee beard. He was dressed in a three-piece suit with purple shirt and pink tie. She had no memory of the face and voice but there was no mistaking the outfit.
"What do you want, Jack?" she demanded.
Her captor grabbed his neck in both hands and slowly peeled off the skin-tight mask that had concealed his features. He reached into his mouth and pulled out from beneath his tongue a small plastic vocoder that was blinking faintly. The man revealed himself as dark-eyed, dark-haired with grey streaks and with a tough, craggy face.
Jack Hench, CEO of HenchCo, suppliers to the villain community, smiled at the thief. "You have a good memory, Shego. As I recall, we have only met on one occasion before. But then I guess that it is only fair that you recognized me as I was able to recognize you under that ludicrous outfit you were wearing when we spotted you earlier. And with you I have no need to hide my identity."
Well, that at least answers the question of how long I've been here. But what in heck is Jack Hench doing in a Global Justice office?
The villain supplier sat down in front of her, hands clasped together and oozing fake bonhomie.
"So what do you want from me?" Shego demanded. "You do realize that as soon as I get free from here, you and the rest of your people are dead men? I don't take kindly to being shot, kidnapped and bound."
Hench smiled silkily. "I think that when you have heard the whole story you will find that your homicidal tendencies have little role to play in our negotiation." He leaned back in his chair and drew a breath before continuing.
"I have some unfinished business with Professor Dementor that I would like you to take care of," Hench said breezily. "He stole something that belongs to me."
Shego snarled. "And I should care why?" She stared back at the wannabe villain.
"Because you know where it is." The voice was colder now.
Shego concealed her surprise at the unexpected statement. As far as she was aware, no-one had any idea where Dementor and his devices were now except for the inhabitants of his old lair in the Himalayan mountains and no-one outside could make a connection between Dementor and Shego. She wracked her brains for any suggestion that there had been a leak but nothing whatsoever came to mind. She decided that Hench was bluffing.
"I'd like to help you Jack, I'm sure, but I haven't seen Dementor in months," she smiled sweetly at him. "But I'll be sure to pass on your message if he appears." She made no attempt to conceal her insincerity.
Hench looked back at her with open contempt before his visage softened to a faint smile. He started to speak as though she was not in the room.
"HenchCo always prides itself on looking after the interests of its clients. And of course we have our own interests to consider. How bad would it be if Global Justice were to capture one of our customers' lairs and intercept the next delivery of HenchCo products? This would be a costly waste of our clients' money. And my shareholders would not be overjoyed to learn that expensive and in many cases proprietary weaponry had fallen into the hands of our common enemy?"
Shego wondered where Jack Hench was going with this as she considered who might be HenchCo's shareholders? And the reference to common enemy caused her to reconsider if Hench really had anything to do with Global Justice despite the location of their encounter.
Something told her that the only justice she was going to encounter that day was of the rough variety.
Hench took a sip of water and waved at her to do the same before continuing in an avuncular tone.
"In order to avoid such an undesirable eventuality, we instigated a verification arrangement for our more successful clients." The man looked disdainfully at Shego, making it clear that she and Drakken were not considered by HenchCo to fall into that category. She stared back at him, ignoring the implied insult.
"Our arrangement is simple. Once a month we make a dummy delivery to each lair several days before dispatching the main delivery. Each dispatch has a predetermined verification code which the recipients are required to transmit back securely to us on receipt of the dummy. If we receive the correct code we can be assured that the lair remains in the hands of its rightful owner and we can safely dispatch the real goods. If on the other hand we fail to receive a code, or receive the wrong code, then we can be equally certain that the lair has been compromised, and we immediately cut off all contact with the lair until we have more information.
Seven weeks ago we concluded that Dementor's lair in Tibet was no longer in his control, or it was unoccupied. At the same time, we ceased to receive any orders from the lair." He looked challengingly at the thief.
"We could not initially learn which organization now controls Dementor's lair and of course we don't know its exact location, only the delivery address which we assume is nearby. However we could not help but notice that Dr. Drakken had stopped placing orders from his lair in the Alps at about the same time and that both of you had dropped off the radar."
He did not bother to mention that this information had been confirmed through his Global Justice connections.
"Nonetheless, this supposition remained speculation until you fell into our lap this morning."
Shego tried not to show her shock at the news that Hench knew that something had happened in Tibet. She calmed herself.
He is still guessing. So long as I deny everything, he has no way of being sure that it is we who control Dementor's lair. I'll just avoid giving away too much information and wait for an opportunity to get out of here.
"That's a bit of a leap you're making, Jack," she ventured. "I'm not very sorry to hear that Demenz is out of commission, but you're completely wrong to think that Drakken and I have anything to do with it. We've been taking time out since Kim Possible blew up our alpine lair." She smiled innocently.
Hench stared at her. "Nice try Shego but we've been busy today since you were good enough to show up earlier. He picked up her kitbag which he had brought into the room.
"I had our forensics team here examine this bag of yours. The contents told us very little other than that you were the owner of a set of HenchCo lock-picks, which we knew about anyway. But the dust in the creases inside was much more revealing. We put a sample into a mass spectrometer and the results were most informative. Did you know that Himalayan rock has a unique fingerprint in a spectrometer?"
Hench looked down at Shego in a predatory manner, all traces of avuncularity gone.
"We were able to establish that you have been in the vicinity of Dementor's lair within the last 48 hours. Which puts a rather different complexion on your denial of any knowledge of him does it not?"
Shego realized that she was in serious trouble.
ooOooOoo
The atmosphere in the room had dropped several degrees since Jack Hench had revealed his hand. Shego was at a disadvantage. She didn't know what Hench knew. She decided to play it straight.
"Supposing that I have an idea where Dementor is," she said carefully, "why are you so keen to find him?"
Jack Hench smiled. He knew that he had the whip hand, but intended to keep Shego off-balance until he was ready to talk about her role.
"It's not Dementor I want, it's a device that he stole from Cyrus Bortel just before Bortel was due to deliver a working prototype to us and just before we lost contact with Dementor. I am referring to the Electron Magneto Accelerator. We paid Bortel half a million dollars in advance for the prototype and we want it back – from Dementor or from whoever is now in possession of it." He looked pointedly at the thief.
You, or Global Justice? she thought. She was still trying to get her head around the appearance, and in apparent control, of Jack Hench at a secret GJ black ops headquarters, if that is what this building was – and after the events of the day she was pretty certain that her original target opposite was no more than a delivery address for Bourne.
And she was still confused about the role that Hench expected her to play going forward.
She did not have long to wait for clarification.
"Shego, you will return to Tibet, retrieve the EMA and deliver it to us," Jack Hench instructed.
"And why should I do that?" she asked.
He laughed at her. "Because you have no choice. Let me spell out the options for you."
He counted on his fingers as he spoke. "If you refuse we can kill you here. We are aware that you are not easy to kill, but believe me we have the technology and drugs to do so if we wish to. The drug you were administered earlier to keep you under for the day is a case in point – in larger doses you would not like the consequence."
"And if you really rile me, we can ensure that you suffer considerable pain before succumbing." His matter of fact recital gave Shego the creeps. Rarely in her career had she come across an opponent who would not hesitate to use lethal force so casually.
"Or we could be merciful and simply drug you up until we are able to deliver you to Global Justice – this is after all one of their facilities. They will undoubtedly extract Dementor and Drakken's location from you and the three of you will be spending a goodly proportion of the rest of your lives in a secure facility. And don't think you'll be busting out of there any time soon – GJ will also be given the formula for the chemical that keeps you as weak and as depowered as you are now."
Shego shuddered at the prospect of losing her liberty.
"So that leaves option three," he continued. "You do as we ask and bring the EMA back here within 60 hours starting tomorrow morning. That's just enough time to return to Dementor's lair, grab the EMA and leave it in GJ's dead letter drop opposite."
But it seems too easy.
"And what is to stop me from just disappearing once you have released me?" she questioned.
He smiled at her. "Clearly I am not going to let you do that. My colleagues have not been idle during your stay with us." He took a remote control out of his pocket and pointed it at a seemingly innocuous wall. A panel slid open and a video screen was revealed. The image appeared to be a long-range close-up of an odd-shaped building that she could not immediately recognize until it suddenly struck her.
"That is the Go Tower in Go City. I think you are familiar with its occupants," Hench stated.
Shego looked up at Hench with hate in her eyes. "What are you planning to do with my brothers?" she demanded.
"Nothing … if you cooperate. However if you fail to deliver the EMA within 60 hours or you make any attempt to contact Team Go and any of your colleagues to warn them, we will blow up Go Tower. No doubt Hego will survive, and perhaps Mego can shrink to avoid being trapped by ailing masonry, but I wouldn't rate the Wegos' chances."
Shego could not suppress a look of horror. Whoever these people were, they definitely weren't standard Global Justice. Were they even HenchCo? For the first time she began to wonder just what she had got herself into.
Hench sensed that he was losing Shego and abruptly changed tactics.
"Come now, Shego. It's just a simple collection and delivery job we're asking for. Theft is your forte after all. And what do you really have to lose by cooperating? A couple of days out of your busy schedule?" he pointed out.
What indeed? she thought. Other than some of her self-respect and the threat to Drakken's world domination plan now that the lair has been compromised, and by someone with GJ connections?
"Okay I'll do it," she agreed. Her adversary looked pleased, but wary at her speedy capitulation.
I don't have any real choice. But if you harm a hair of my brothers' heads, you're dead meat. I may despise them but family is family. If anyone ever kills them it will be me and me only.
"One last thing," Hench interjected apologetically. "Before you go, we will be injecting you with a lethal toxin. You'll find the antidote waiting when you return the EMA."
Shego glared in anger.
"Just a precaution you know, in case you should decide that your brothers are expendable. Oh and you should also be aware that your strength and plasma generation will not return for several days more, in case you were thinking of retaliating after you've taken the antidote. We'll be long gone by the time you regain your strength."
The bastard has thought of everything, she grudgingly acknowledged. But he knows nothing of Drakken's plans. It will give me great pleasure to personally hurt him when we take over Canada. She offered a silent prayer that Drakken's plan was the real thing this time.
Hench got out of his chair and approached Shego. He pulled a syringe out of his pocket and pressed it to her neck. "Just something to make you sleep," he said reassuringly. "You have a long flight back to Tibet tomorrow." She slumped in her seat as he untied her bindings. The press of a wall button summoned two orderlies who carried the unconscious woman to a bedroom opposite and laid her gently down on the bed.
Jack Hench followed her into the room and looked down almost fondly at the sleeping thief as the orderlies departed. "I am not a cruel man, Shego," he murmured. "Do as we ask and you will have a crucial role in the new order, I promise you. Once I have the EMA I will be in reach of my goal."
He looked up as another man entered the room. "Our goal," Hench corrected himself.
The man who had helped Jack Hench to subvert the GJ Toronto operation smiled at him without warmth. "Don't ever forget that, Jack."
Hench watched uneasily as his partner left the room. The other man had enabled Jack to realize a long-held ambition to become a villain himself, and not merely a supplier to villains - after watching so many manqué villains crash and burn he just knew he could do better.
But Jason Farnaby still scared the living daylights out of him. And he would never forget the screams of the poor souls who had given their lives to perfect Farnaby's neurotoxins that had so proved their worth against Shego today.
Middleton – the same day
"Kim and Eric, sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s-i-n-g!"
"Tweebs …," the teen hero screamed at her brothers as they grinned at her before running out of her bedroom, straight into their mother who had started up the stairs as soon as she heard the boys singing.
"Jim, Tim …," she scolded angrily. "Leave your sister alone while she's getting ready!"
The tweebs looked at each other and lifted their heads to see their mother advancing with intent.
"Oh," said Jim.
"Oh," said Tim.
"Downstairs, immediately," the older redhead shouted. "And I'm telling Monique to put you both to bed at seven o'clock!"
Kim's best female friend had kindly agreed to babysit the tweebs while Kim was on her date with Eric as James and Anne had a formal Rocket Society dinner that evening. Well, kindly agreed was a bit of a stretch. Kim had had to call in several favors to persuade Monique to spend an evening supervising the twin terrors.
The terrors in question stared in horror.
"Only babies go to bed that early!" they said together.
Their mother was unmoved. "Behave like babies and be treated like babies," she admonished. Seeing the crestfallen looks on their faces, she partially relented. "You can watch TV until 8 o'clock so long as you remain in your bedroom."
Jim looked at Tim and they smiled. "Oh great, Captain Constellation reruns!" They ran downstairs past their mother and headed for the kitchen, where their mother had laid out a cold dinner for them and Monique.
Anne climbed up the rest of the stairs and knocked on the now-closed hatch to Kim's bedroom. "Hang on a moment, Mum," came a breathless voice from behind the hatch.
Kim let her mother in, hairbrush in one hand and a pair of blue pumps in her other. Anne was surprised to see that her daughter was wearing the same little black dress that she had worn the evening of the Middleton Days fair … and also wearing a glow on her face that Anne had only seen before at the beginning of that same evening.
"Kimmie, are you sure you want to wear that dress tonight?" she asked hesitantly. Especially after what happened last time.
Her daughter looked happily up at her. "It's okay, Mum," she soothed. "I know what I'm doing."
Yes, but do you know what Eric Drake will do when he sees you in that? Anne could not help a slight look of skepticism. Anne and James had known that they could trust Ron that evening, but the yet-to-be-properly-met Eric was an unknown quantity. On the other hand if any girl could look after themselves it was Kim Possible.
Kim read her mother's mind. "Mum, don't make a fuss – everything is going to be just fine. I never kiss on first dates anyway." A secret smile crossed her face as she contemplated a possible second date – hopefully the Prom. If only she can make a good impression tonight …
Anne backed off. "I'd better let you finish getting ready. Your Dad and I will need to leave in a few minutes so give our regards to Eric. And make sure you are back by ten o'clock. You know how strict your father is about curfews and you really don't want to get him and Eric off on the wrong foot."
Kim nodded. Then a thought crossed her mind.
"Mum, could I ask Eric over for dinner tomorrow night? It will give you and Dad a chance to meet him." And, she added to herself, to see how great he is.
"Sure, honey," her mother responded. "That sounds like a good idea. I'll make sure your father is home in good time – you know what he's like when he gets caught up in something."
Don't we just! Mother and daughter smiled at each other.
The doorbell rang. "That'll be Monique," Anne reacted as she strode to the hatch.
"Now brush your hair and have a lovely evening."
"You too, Mum. Bet you'll be the most glamorous Lady Rocketeer in the room!"
ooOooOoo
Kim Possible put down her spoon and fork with a feeling of having just eaten an exceptional meal. Eric had told her to dress up that evening but she had not expected to be taken to dinner at Chez Couteau, probably the best restaurant in the Tri-City area. The dessert especially – a lemon syllabub – was amazing. She had eaten nothing like it since she had tried Ron's Seven Layers of Heaven chocolate confection.
The thought of Ron reminded her that she had barely spoken to her friend that day. Well actually, the previous day too. In fact, now she came to think about it, the last time she had talked to Ron properly was at Bueno Nacho the day she met Eric. She felt a pang of guilt as she thought about how she had allowed Eric to monopolize her time since then. She'd even neglected Monique other than to twist her arm to babysit the tweebs that evening.
I really must find time to speak to them tomorrow.
"Is everything all right," a gentle voice broke into her thoughts. She looked up at the amber eyes that gazed so caringly into hers. A shiver of delight ran down her spine as he took her hand.
She smiled back at him. "Everything is just perfect, thanks to you."
Eric grinned at her as he signaled the waiter for the check.
They walked slowly up the street, her left arm resting in his right hand. It was a warm night, but in that Spring way where a touch of chill is never far away. Eric guided her gently but firmly, enjoying their closeness as much as she did. She allowed him to lead her, paying little attention to the direction they were walking. As far as she was concerned, any way was good so long as she had her date with her. She realized that she had almost called him her boyfriend to herself. But she was already his girlfriend in her mind. And the looks that he had been giving her all night suggested that it was only a matter of time before they officially upgraded their status.
Please let him ask me to the Prom!
As they crossed the road not five hundred yards from Kim's house, and with a good thirty minutes to go before the end of her curfew, Eric spotted a small park. He took Kim's hand in his and led her through the park towards the swings. She recognized it as the place where she and Ron had spent many happy hours as kids, climbing the frame, riding the seesaw and sitting side by side on the swings. It was the place where Ron had first told her that his motto was going to be "never be normal". He had certainly lived up to that.
A pang of nostalgia swept her as she thought about how simple life had been then. No villains, no missions just a young boy and a young girl enjoying each other's company in the playground. Adolescence and high school had proved to be a stormy period for both of them. And inevitably as they got interested in the opposite sex, their uncomplicated friendship began to suffer as time had to be made for significant others, or at least hoped-for significant others. But wasn't that always going to happen? Once they stopped being kids?
We're not in pre-K any more. Time to grow up.
Yes, she thought, I can still be friends with Ron even when I'm dating Eric.
And what about when we're married? The unbidden thought took her by surprise. Surely she wasn't thinking of Eric as a potential husband already?
Am I too young to know what true love is? Or have I met my soulmate at seventeen? How quickly did her mother know that her father was the one? Perhaps Ron will agree to be my best man? She smiled involuntarily at the thought of her goofy friend losing his pants as she walked up the aisle towards him and Eric.
Or am I just grasping at anyone who shows the slightest interest in me? Am I really that desperate?
Her smile turned to a frown as she contemplated the months of datelessness that had led up to today. Apart of course from that one embarrassing afternoon and evening when for a while she thought she was in love with Ron.
Eric saw her face change and drew her down onto a swing, taking the one next to her.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he said quietly.
She started, lost in her thoughts. She looked at him in the near-darkness, seeing every feature of his handsome face.
"Just thinking what a lucky girl I am to have had you take me out tonight," she responded softly.
Eric was surprised. "You must have boys clamoring to date you," he said graciously.
Kim smiled tightly. "No. Boys are intimidated by me, by what I do. By my missions."
She paused. "Will you laugh if I told you that I haven't had a date this year?"
Eric shook his head vigorously. That's impossible, surely?
A familiar wave of loneliness came over her. "Sometimes I feel like a freak." She turned away from him, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes. "Every other cheerleader is dating each weekend, Bonnie hates me and my best friend is seen as the school weirdo. What does that make me?"
Eric silently thanked his father for arranging for him to meet this girl and allow him to help her.
He took Kim's hand. "Kim, listen to me. You're no freak, you're a beautiful girl … the best-looking in the school," he added. "Your missions don't scare me. You deserve to be pampered, to be treated like a princess." To be loved, he added to himself.
He took her face in his hands. "And that's going to be my mission." He leaned forward and gently placed his lips on hers as her eyes fluttered before closing. Seconds later he raised his head and her eyes opened reluctantly as she felt the loss of the warmth of his lips.
"I don't normally kiss girls on a first date, even a peck like that, but you looked so gorgeous I couldn't resist. I hope you didn't mind me jumping the gun to next time."
First date? Next time? she thought. He wants more dates and proper kisses!
She looked up at him, eyes sparkling. "Eric, can you come for dinner tomorrow and meet my family?"
"I'd be delighted to meet your parents, Kim," he answered.
"I'm afraid it means meeting the tweebs too," she warned. She had shared details of her family the previous day. She grinned. "But Mum will try to ensure that they behave properly."
He decided there and then that he would ask her to the Prom over dinner the next day in order to reassure her parents of his good intentions. He was sure she would say yes if her heart rate just now was anything to go by.
He couldn't wait to tell Dad and Mum how lucky he was to be dating Kim Possible.