Before we get started here, the lawyers need to have their fun:
As usual, I don't own jack scratch. When it comes to money, I'm flat busted, so don't even bother trying to sue me. The characters belong to Disney, the software belongs to Bill Gates, my kidneys belong to my bookie, and all your base belong to us!
Chapter Two
As fast-food joints tend to go, Bueno Nacho really wasn't anything worth writing home about. It was your typical Tex-Mex style franchise eatery, offering up a fare, which would be thoroughly unrecognizable to anyone of Mexican ancestry. In fact, its entire menu bore about as much resemblance to authentic Mexican cuisine as a lilac bush does to a Buick.
This discrepancy, however, did nothing to curb the enthusiasm of a certain blonde-haired seventeen-year-old, with a seemingly cast-iron stomach. Nor did it discourage his unusual pet, as the over-anxious pink blob bouncing on his shoulder would gladly attest to.
"Let's see…" Ron sighed as he pondered the illuminated overhead menu. "So many choices, so little hot sauce."
Kim simply rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh of her own. "C'mon, Ron. Other people want to order too, you know. Besides, you always order the same thing anyway."
"Well maybe I felt like trying something different today, you ever think of that? You know… maybe mix it up a little bit."
"Well, were you?"
"Hmmm… Not really."
The icy glare that Kim shot him at that point spoke volumes to Ron. He quickly placed his standard "Naco-Nite" order and stepped to the side. A few minutes later, and the young couple was seated at their usual booth, preparing to partake of the over-processed, MSG-laced cuisine.
"Ahhhhh, after a tough day at school, there's nothing like the taste of a fresh naco to soothe the soul." Ron pined.
"I don't think anything that goes into a naco could be called fresh," Kim countered. "and this is only our lunch period. There's still three more periods to go."
"And besides," a voice from behind them suddenly called out. "The words 'naco' and 'taste' don't even belong in the same sentence together."
Kim and Ron both spun around to meet the familiar figure of Bonnie staring back at them, an equally familiar smug grin plastered across her face.
Ron didn't miss a beat…
"Bonnie, I wouldn't be talking about taste if I were wearing an orange tank top." He shot back.
Kim spit her soda across the table, thoroughly drenching Rufus, who had been intently devouring an entire tray of Nachos.
Bonnie just stood there stunned. Normally, Ron would shrink under her withering insults, but lately he had been standing his ground. Occasionally he would even launch a counter attack, as the case in point just proved. Perhaps being Possible's boyfriend had given his confidence a much-needed boost, but Bonnie didn't know for sure. What she was sure about, however, was that she didn't care.
Recovering quickly, Bonnie pressed on.
"I just wanted to let you know, Stoppable, that I'm holding you personally responsible for the integrity of my family honor." She said loftily, glancing upward and placing her hand reverently over her heart. "You'd better not do anything stupid to tarnish the Rockwaller name."
Ron snorted his indifference to Bonnie's dramatics. "Don't worry, Bon-Bon. Your family name is in good hands. Now, how do you spell that again?"
"Arrrrrrrugh!" Bonnie growled as she turned and stomped away. A sly smile creased Ron's face. A victory over Bonnie was a rare treat for him, and this was certainly something that he was going to savor.
"Anyway," Kim said, quickly recovering from the shock of Ron's performance against her arch-rival. "What's the 4-1-1 on your family background? Anything juicy I should know about?"
Ron held a contemplative look in his eyes as he paused for a moment to swallow the oversized mouthful of burrito he was chewing, then replied with a slight sigh. "To be honest, KP, I don't think there's really that much of a story to tell when it comes to my fam. We're a pretty boring lot, when you get down to it."
Kim raised an incredulous eyebrow toward her boyfriend. "Oh c'mon, Ron. Surely you must have some famous relative or interesting branch on your family tree."
"Sorry KP, but I got nothing… and don't call me Shirley." He said with a snicker.
With this remark, Kim rolled her eyes and sighed once again. "What was it about guys and dumb movies, anyway." There were some things about the "Y" chromosome that she felt she would never understand.
"So, what… You're saying that I'm stuck with using the internet as my primary research tool? Thanks for the help, friend."
"Sorry KP, but I'm stuck with some very limited resources of my own here. If you find out anything at all, it'll probably be news to me."
"Swell and peachy." Kim replied sarcastically, lowering her head down onto the table.
BEEP-BEEP-de-BEEP
The familiar four-pulse tone of the Kimmunicator suddenly collected the attention of everyone at the table. Kim quickly pulled the small, aquamarine-colored device from the pocket of her jeans and pushed the receive button. The screen instantly flashed to life, displaying the cherubic face of Kim's webmaster, Wade Load.
"What's the sitch, Wade?" she inquired with her usual catch phrase.
"Trouble." Wade replied, taking a pull from his ever-present soda. "I'm picking-up a break-in in progress at a top-secret lab."
"Eh… Been there, saved that, got the tee-shirt to show for it." Ron quipped, voicing his boredom with what he deemed to be an all-to-familiar scenario.
"So who do we think is involved here?" Kim asked, ignoring Ron's snide remark. "Drakken again?"
"Actually, this time it's Dementor." Wade responded.
"Well, that's a refreshing change of pace." Ron observed, earning another non-reaction from Kim.
"So what's the ride sitch?" Kim continued.
"Already got you guys hooked up. They should be there in five."
"Spankin'! Wade, you continue to ROCK!"
"Heh… I do the best I can with the tools I got. Wade out!" With this, the screen went blank once again.
"Mission mode, Ron!" Kim called out as she got up from the table. "Better make that a to-go order." indicating the food still in front of him.
"Awwwww… man!" Ron whined. "Cold nacos just aren't the same. And don't even get me started on what happens when you try to re-heat them in the micro… YAHHHHH!"
Before he could finish his sentence, Kim had grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and was dragging him toward the front door. He barely had enough time to call out for a "doggie-bag" before the doors slammed closed once again.
---------
The man standing before the large, steel, security door did not cut an imposing figure by any stretch of the imagination. Dwarfed by the two henchmen flanking him, he was short, somewhat stocky, had a yellowish complexion that bordered on jaundice, seemed to prefer a more garish style of dress, and don't even get me started on the helmet.
All in all, he looked like the kid you used to beat-up all the time in elementary school.
But looks can be deceiving, and if anyone was going to be beating anyone up, it was going to be him. (Or, at the very least, the henchmen.)
Professor Dementor may have stood only Five-foot-one and been 130 pounds soaking wet, but it was 130 pounds of pure mean. The diminutive German scientist had a hair-trigger temper with aim to match. Add to this an ego as big as all outdoors and a wide streak of natural genius, and you were left with a person who you really wouldn't want to cross paths with in a dark laboratory at midnight.
He stood before the oversized doorway with one hand on his chin and a contemplative look on his face, regarding the door as if it were a piece of modern artwork. His gaze drifted down to point about eye-level, (at least for him), and then right, coming to rest on the security keypad along side.
He incredulously shook his head as he observed the scene. "Vhy do ze fools always put ze security panels in such an obvious location?" he asked himself silently. "Vhy do zey not camouflage zem somehow?"
He already knew the answer to this question: The so-called experts who designed these systems had too much faith in their own abilities. He snapped his fingers, and one of the henchmen obediently strode to the panel and attached a small, rectangular device.
Most other villains would rely on code generators, which used a complex set of algorithmic programs to deduce the lock's combination, but this was time consuming and notoriously unreliable. Others tended to take the direct approach and go straight to high explosives. Aside from being extremely messy, this method was often somewhat less than effective, not to mention dangerous.
The small box, now attached to the keypad and merrily beeping away, was different. Rather than attempting to decipher the code which the system contained, it simply re-wrote it, replacing the system's program with its own.
Dementor couldn't help but chuckle as he reveled in his own genius. Security designers were so obsessed with fortifying their systems against hackers, safe-crackers and anyone else who would seek to defeat their precious handiwork. They never thought to guard against someone wishing to simply commandeer the system, rather than bring it down entirely.
A sudden change in tone indicated that the device had successfully completed its task, and the gargantuan doors slowly parted to reveal the laboratory beyond.
It was a typical hi-tech, hi-security installation, with computer terminals and worktables scattered throughout in a roughly circular formation. The focal point of it all, however, was a pedestal in the center of the room. There, behind a security field, sat a small, cylindrical, metallic object.
"Ahhhhh…" Dementor cried out with barely-concealed glee. "Ze Positronic Power Modulator!" This was what he had traveled so far to retrieve.
Although he was still separated from his prize by the security field, he remained un-deterred. His Crypto-Compliance Unit had overcome the locks on the lab door. It would certainly make quick work of the force field.
Placing the small unit once again on a ferociously obvious panel, it was mere seconds before the field suddenly flickered, then blinked from existence.
"It iz mine, all mine!" he cackled as he reached for the object of his ambitions. "Und it vas all so easy!"
"Total elapsed time: two minutes-fourteen seconds!" a voice suddenly called out from behind them. "We may have a new record here!"
The three men spun around at once to face the all-to-familiar sight of emerald-green eyes beneath auburn-red hair staring back at them.
"It'z not difficult vhen you are a gifted intellect, such as myself." Dementor growled in response.
"Plus, it's not like they're making it really hard or anything." Ron added, striding up from behind Kim. "I mean, look at how conspicuous all the security panels are. They should at least try to hide them behind something. What the heck do they think potted plants are for, anyway?"
"We can discuss your views on interior decoration later, Ron." Kim said, cutting him off. "Trying to focus here."
Dementor simply sneered at the two teens. "Vhile ve appreciate ze effort, hero thieves, my henchmen und I vere just leaving."
"Oh, I wouldn't be to sure of that, old foe." Ron said, taking a couple more steps forward. "The way I'm seeing things right now, you've got four things to worry about." He thrust a thumb back over his shoulder toward Kim.
"She's three of them." he concluded with a sly smile, causing Kim to blush ever so slightly.
At this, Dementor only sneered again. "Really? Und vhat iz ze fourth thing?" he inquired.
"Your fly is open." Ron quipped, matter-of-factly.
"EEEEK!" Dementor shrieked, quickly turning around to zip himself as Kim and the henchmen laughed almost uncontrollably.
"HALTET EUERE MAULER!" Dementor roared, turning to the still snickering henchmen. "Und I pay you goot money so that you vill TELL ME DEEZ THINGS!"
"So, Dementor," Kim broke in, lowering herself into a fighting stance. "Your move." She quickly sized up the two hulking henchmen. They were big, but she'd fought more impressive specimens on several occasions. "Betcha' wish you'd brought more bodies" she added, slightly worried by the coy smile which had suddenly appeared on Dementor's face.
"Deez men," he chuckled, indicating the henchmen beside him. "Vhy they're just here to do ze heavy lifting. Ze fighting I vill leave to ze experts."
With these words, he snapped his fingers, and Kim and Ron suddenly found themselves surrounded by a dozen synthodrones, which had appeared from the shadows ringing the large chamber.
"Interesting move, professor." Kim said dryly as she backed into a defensive position against Ron. "You're working with Drakken now, are you?"
Dementor simply laughed at this. "Oh please fraulein, vhy vould I ever stoop to verking vith such an incompetent dummkopf. I purchased the blueprints for deez specimens on evil-bay."
"Evil-bay?" Kim asked quizzically with a raised eyebrow. "Bad guys have their own on-line auction site?"
"Wow… You really can get anything on the internet." Ron observed. "You know, just the other day I heard that somebody put the O' Boyz's artistic integrity up for bid."
"Who put whose what up for bid?"
"Yeah, weird huh? Some guy did it as a protest. The dude claimed that they had sold out to big business and that they're now just another marketing tool of corporate America."
"Ron, they're a stylized, bubble-gum boy band with canned music, and they're marketed like a breakfast cereal. They've been a corporate tool since the day they were created."
"I know, KP. That was pretty much the consensus of the two dozen guys who jumped on the dude and flamed him for the post."
"And you were one of the flame patrol, I take it."
"What can I say? The Ronster likes a good digital dog-pile."
"EXCUSE ME!" Dementor suddenly bellowed from the background. "But could ve please get back to ze topic at hand? Some of us have a schedule to keep!"
With that, the drones began to advance.
Kim crouched down like a tiger, ready to pounce.
Ron tried to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't the most heroic of tactics, but it had served him well in the past.
Suddenly two drones, armed with laser swords, charged Kim from opposite directions. Years of martial arts training taking over, she dropped low to the ground, allowing the glowing blades to pass harmlessly over her, and into the chests of the drones. They both melted to the ground in familiar puddles of green goo, having successfully gutted each other like so many dead fish.
Now two more drones attacked in similar fashion. Kim rose up into a handstand and launched a perfect butterfly kick that sent the drones flying, taking down a quartet of other drones as they went.
Meanwhile, Ron's attempt to become invisible was proving to be somewhat less successful. Facing four drones of his own, his eyes darted nervously about the room, desperately looking for an opening, (preferably an emergency exit of some kind).
One drone lunged at him, sword at the ready. He screamed effeminately and ducked, the blade narrowly missing him. The drone quickly recovered and attacked again, this time bringing the sword down from above its head. In a panic, Ron somersaulted forward, trying desperately to remove himself from the blade's path. As he did so, he accidentally knocked into the drone's leg, sending the synthetic being into a somersault of it own, the laser sword flying free from its hand. Ron shook his head, trying to clear the dizziness which had been placed there by the sudden tumble, when he was startled by the flash of the sword as it embedded itself into the floor beside him.
"Booyah!" he crowed, quickly picking himself up and grabbing the now available weapon. "Let's hear it for dumb skills!" Now this was making things interesting.
The other three drones attacked in unison, but a quick, arcing sweep of the blade felled them all. The one drawback to synthodrones, (besides the whole "melting into goo" thing), was that they were exceedingly stupid. What little intelligence they did possess obviously wasn't enough to grasp concepts such as battle tactics and coordinated assaults. They usually employed wave attacks, charging an enemy en mass, and relying on sheer force of numbers to carry the day. It usually worked, but when used against an opponent who was either highly-skilled or well-armed, the tactic was somewhat less than effective.
In this situation, the opponents facing the drones were both. Kim's training with sixteen styles of kung-fu, coupled with Ron's accidental acquisition of the laser sword added up to a formidable opponent which the drones simply couldn't beat.
Unfortunately for the two teen heroes, they didn't have to.
Moments later, as Kim pitched the last drone over her shoulder and onto a pile of debris, Ron looked around to see the two of them standing in an empty laboratory. Dementor and the henchmen had fled during the course of the battle, and they'd taken the Positronic Power Module with them.
"Awwwwwww… Fudge!" Kim exclaimed upon noticing the missing mad scientist.
"Yeah, I hate it when they get away." Ron concurred.
"Well, let's get a' move on." Kim commanded, picking up her backpack and taking a final look around. "It's a school night and my 'rents will be tweaked if we're late."
"No kidding." Ron said. "Think about how I feel. For you, being late means being grounded. For me, being out after curfew with you means a one way trip down a black hole."
Inwardly, Kim had to laugh at this. Since she and Ron had been dating, the "black-hole" scenario had been a standing threat from her father, should Ron ever step out of line. Although Kim had repeatedly assured Ron that no rocket currently existed that could ever reach that far into space, he never seemed convinced. It was, after all, his nature to play things on the safe side.
For now, however, the eminent threat of groundation was motivation enough, and the two teens were soon on their way to the extraction point, which Wade had sent them. Maybe he could track down Dementor and piece together just what he was up to, although "no good" seemed to be pretty much a certainty here. In any case, there was nothing more they could do from their current position, so they walked, the uncertainty of this new sitch weighing on both their minds.
Author's Notes:
"Haltet euere mauler" is a German phrase, which loosely translates to "shut up your mouths." It just seemed appropriate, I thought. Special thanks to CastaS for helping me with my grammar here. I'm afraid that I don't really know much German. What little bit I do know is just what I've managed to pick up from watching old World War Two movies on late-night television.